/, holly flynn, survey says, tempest series/Survey says: Want to read 009 Holly’s diary?

So, yeah, this is probably a bit odd and corny but 4 years ago I began writing entries for Holly Flynn, the apple of Tempest series MC, Jackson Meyer’s eye. It’s angsty, it’s sexy, it’s extremely detailed, and will let fans of the series in on a few secrets.

There are many reviews of Tempest series novels that mention not liking Holly or not understanding why she’s special or what Jackson sees in her. The plot of Tempest is so complex, not to mention having multiple versions of the same characters, that all these bits and pieces of the original 009 Holly didn’t make it into the novels.

I can’t guarantee that you’ll like her more after reading these entries, she’s got loads of secrets– seriously not kidding about this one–and let’s just say she does a bit of experimentation and growing prior to gettin’ with Jackson. And possibly has an aggressive agenda to lose her virginity.

I have over 300 pages written thus far and now the question is, should I release it into the world? Does anyone actually want to read this spin-off/bonus content gone wild? There are 2 ways to answer this question: publish it and find out or ask here in a survey.

Of course I won’t send you in blind, below the survey is a little snippet for your reading pleasure (disclaimer: pages are currently unedited or in pre-editorial phase):

March 10, 2009
Today’s song: Just Dance by Lady Gaga
Dear Dad,
WARNING–Don’t read this if you have issues with boyfriend TMI stuff. This entry includes a heavy dose of TMI.
I almost had sex. Again (wait, I mean almost again as in Holly is still a virgin). So last night, we’re all at Brian’s party. The whole my new job is starting in a few days and I’m hardly going to see David thing is starting to get to me and I hit the kool-aid and vodka mix a little harder than I should. The swirl of alcohol in my blood sends this subliminal message running through my head over and over: sex, Sex. It’s one way to open up a world of possibilities without having to go anywhere. Well, we had to go somewhere, I mean, we’re not putting on a show for the senior class. But nowhere far. 
So I just keep drinking because it feels good to have some kind of compromise. Five cups, six cups. And this tiny voice in the back of my head is whispering, “Seriously? Sex is a compromise? Since when?”
But after seven cups, the voice is passed out drunk and I drag David to the middle of the living room to dance. Which I do and David tries to look like he can (he can’t).
            “Let’s go to my house. My mom’s gone,” I shout over the music, not caring if anyone else hears. Honestly, most people assume we’re already doing it. It’s been nearly a year. It’s not like we’re sluts.
            David kisses me and smiles. “Twenty minutes, okay? I promised Toby I’d help set up the band equipment.”
            I let out a frustrated sigh and David picks me up around the waist and carries me over to the couch where Brian is sitting. His face is filled with amusement as he looks over my shoulder at Brian. “Keep an eye on my girlfriend for a few minutes? She’s been hitting the punch pretty hard.”
            Brian smiles big and I swear my knees go a little weak. He’s totally hot and totally not in high school anymore. When I turn to sit down, I nearly fall right onto his lap. David leaves us alone and Brian’s arm goes around the back of the couch so our shoulders aren’t bumping into each other. “You’re a light weight. No telling what too many cups of punch will do to you.”
            I rest my head back against the couch and feel Brian’s arm underneath it. “Brian the super jock, how’s college life and UCLA? I’ve always wanted to visit that campus.”
            His whole face lights up. “It’s fucking awesome. I mean football is hard as hell, especially when you’re on scholarship. It’s like they own me sometimes.”
“Do you like your classes?”
He nods eagerly and I have a feeling I’m the first one to ask him about something other than football or California girls.
“Right now, I’m taking this awesome Lit class. It’s, like, a lot of British books. You know Dickens and—” He stops suddenly and stares at me. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
“No,” I answer with a little more enthusiasm than I should.  
He shrugs. “Well, anyway, it’s cool.”
“I thought it was fucking awesome.”
He smiles again. And yeah, Brian is hot in a lethal way that’s impossible for any sane, straight girl not to notice. But I’m more attracted to what he’s seen, where he’s been and how it brings him to life. I’m suffocating here. I’m really suffocating.
The room’s spinning and I close my eyes and take in deep breathes. I can feel Brian getting closer, his breath on my neck. “Holly Flynn, are you still awake? I’m supposed to be watching you.”
I laugh to myself. “I don’t need anyone to watch me.”
“Now that I believe.” 
And for a second I’m sure he’s guessed every single doubt I have about David. Paranoia. Side effect of alcohol. Tomorrow I’ll join SADD or AA or something to make up for this night of moral corruption. “Damn, I am so wasted.”
“Word of advice, Holly. Don’t ever say that to any college guys.”
“Because they’ll know exactly what to do with you,” he warns. My eyes fly open to see Brian pointing toward David. “Now that dude, I have feeling he has no idea what to do with you.”
There is no way I’m giving him the yes answer he wants to hear. So I stay silent until David returns.
“I’m all done,” he says pulling me off the couch.
“Great, let’s go have sex,” I blurt out.
Yep. Totally signing up for AA tomorrow, my name is Holly and I’m a very bad drunk…
 Several heads turn in our direction. David smiles and claps a hand over my mouth. “You are so trashed.”
“She’s gonna puke all over your car,” Brian says.
“We’ll roll down the window,” David says, scooping me up off the ground.
My eyes are barely open when Brian puts a hand on my cheek and leans closer. “As the party host, I have to ask every drunk hottie, are you okay going home with this insanely wild young man?”
“Only if he has protection,” I mutter. I’m joking or maybe just wanting to say the most inappropriate thing possible because I never do that. Regardless, David looks embarrassed.
He pulls me closer so my face is against his chest. But I don’t miss Brian taking something from his wallet and tossing it into the front pocket of David’s shirt. And he doesn’t object.
“Nice talking to you again, Holly,” Brian says as David walks toward the door.
I expect David to say something about my uncharacteristic outbursts, but he’s all sweet as he carries me through my front door and then into my bedroom. That’s when I remind myself he’s a horny guy and doesn’t want to screw up his chance to get some tonight.
But I couldn’t be more wrong.
He lays me down in my bed and rummages through my dresser before pulling out a tank top and sweat pants. Then he’s sitting next to me, wiggling my dress over my head. I can feel his eyes on me. His fingertips lingering on my bare skin a second longer than needed. And I just want to feel something besides the overwhelming dread.
He picks up my tank top and starts to put it on me, but I shake my head. “Just leave it off.”
“Hol, you’re drunk. Let’s not do this now, okay?”
“Why not? I feel totally up for it.”
“If you need to get drunk to want to have sex with me, then you’re not really up for it.” His voice is soft, gentle, but I can see the hurt flicker in his eyes for a second.
And without thinking about it, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him down beside me. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
He holds my face with both hands and he’s smiling. “I’m not letting you persuade me.”
            “I’m the worst girlfriend ever.” My eyes close and my head flops back onto the pillow.
He laughs and I feel his fingers brushing the hair off my face. “I love you. Just like this, Hol. You are you and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”
The alcohol is planting irrational thoughts into my head and a few tears trickle down the side of my face. “We’re going to break up, aren’t we? That’s what happens to people like us, right?”
David pulls me into his arms. “I don’t know what happens.”
“This sucks,” I mumble. “I hate not knowing shit.”
He squeezes me tighter. “Just don’t get stupid and think everything is forever because most things aren’t.”
“But you love me?” I ask.
“You know I do.”
            “Then it’s okay. Everything is okay.” I throw myself into kissing David and pulling his clothes off.
            He lets me.
            Of course he lets me, he’s a freakin’ guy. Not a saint. Besides, he tried to do the right thing and say no.
But just when things start to get a little good, I shove him off me and run for the bathroom. I make it to the sink before puking up my many cups of red punch. This is only the second time in my life, I’ve drank so much I barfed. Which might mean that the AA people will reject my request for membership. Not quite at the rock bottom stage yet.
I hear David laughing and fight the urge to kick him in the nuts. But then he gets up and pulls my hair back with a rubber band. He doesn’t say anything and manages to remove the smirk from his face while I’m brushing my teeth.
            He starts to lay down with me again, but I stop him. “You should go. My mom will be home soon. Use the back door, okay?”
“I know the drill.”  He kisses my cheek. “Night, Hol.”
I have to say something meaningful. Like he said to me earlier. “David?”
He lowers his head so his eyes are lined with mine. And I have this moment where I sort of see him older—again—except not fat and bald, but pushing a little kid on a swing. Having a barbeque in his backyard, standing in front of a grill while kids run around, women sit and chat about neighborhood gossip. And I swallow a lump in my throat because that scene is so David. And so not me.
I can’t let him see me cry. He’ll stay and then my mom will catch us. I force a smile and close my eyes, patting his cheek. “I love you, just like this.”
“I know,” he whispers back before turning off my light and leaving me alone.
The second I hear the door shut, my face is pressed into my pillow and tears come out in loud sobs for no one to hear. I doubt David realizes what both of us just established in a few words. Maybe I’m underestimating him. He did surprise me tonight with what he said.
But me, crying into my pillow like some 13 year-old girl with a crush, is totally pathetic.
And that was the conclusion to yet another, “Almost sex” night for me. Described as well as I can muster. A retelling no father would ever want to hear.
Hope you don’t think less of me after reading this, but I don’t see how that’s possible since you probably don’t have any impression of me at all.  

Want to read more? Find the entry that follows this one right here


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