An Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway from A.E. Woodward!!

I few months back, I read a little gem called "Working Girl" by A.E. Woodward.  (Read the original review here.)  It was a heartbreaking book.  But I loved every second of it.  If you haven't heard of it, just check out this awesome video that explains it all.

Pretty cool, right?

Well I am THRILLED to tell you that A.E. Woodward has given us an exclusive, never before seen excerpt from "Working Girl"!

If you haven't read the book, this passage doesn't contain spoilers.  However, I HIGHLY recommend reading it first, because it will make more sense.

For those of you who have read "Working Girl", this is an extra scene as Emerson tries to deal with the loss of his father.  Enjoy!



     I'm sitting on the edge of his bed, alone.  Again.  Things haven't gotten any easier.  With each day that passes I feel like he slips further away from me.  The pain and conflict he must be feeling is unimaginable, but he needs to start fighting his way back to me.  Soon, or I'm afraid we might be lost forever.
     I can't take the not knowing anymore.  My life is forever changed and I need to know where I stand with him.  Emerson has clawed his way to my heart where his fingers had managed to squeeze their way around it, holding onto me with each beat.  But now it seems like his grip was growing lax.  Too much time has passed and the time has come for me to prove myself to him.  It was my turn.  Time for me to fight for him.
     With resolution in my heart, I jump to my feet and take off in the direction of the bathroom.  It has become habit for him to lock himself in there, alone, while he grieves the loss of the man he loved despite it all.  His father.  I don't know for sure what he does inside those doors, because much like my walls that I had surrounded myself with, he shuts me out.
     Without hesitation I reach out and place my hand on the cold metal of the handle, with one turn the door pops open allowing my ears to actually hear what I had known was going on all along.  His strangled sobs echo through the tiled room, the steam seeps out from the small crack in the door and I contemplate my next move.  The vulnerability of this moment is private.  I shouldn't be here, he doesn't want to let me in.  I should turn around and let him be alone, but my feet freeze with determination.  Instead of turning my back on him, I push through the doorframe and continue toward him.  He sniffles and I hear a loud thud come from within the shower, which causes me to jump within my own skin a bit.
     Concerned, I pull back the curtain, taking in the sight of him underneath the stream of water.  His hand continually pounding against the wall creating the reverberating thud that had frightened me moments ago.  He doesn't register my presence, instead his back heaves as the sobs continue to rip their way through his chest and straight into mine.  My heart aches for him, but for me as well.  Not knowing what's going on in his mind is greater torture than Big Earl could've ever inflicted on me.
     I carefully read out and touch him with my hand, he flinches and looks over his shoulder at me.  I long for his eyes to connect with me, but instead he looks right through me with dull eyes.  It lasts only a second and without a word he turns away from me again.  I push the curtain out of my way and step into the shower with him, the water is hot and instantly makes my clothes stick to my body which heightens my anxiety.  I quickly tug at the fabric, allowing a brief moment of relief to wash over my claustrophobic skin.  Emerson shies away from me and even though I feel dejected, I reach out and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him close to me.
     I lay my cheek against his back and he tries pulling away from me, but I squeeze harder, not allowing him to escape from this moment.  He needs this.  We need it.  His body goes lax, his face falling forward, the water droplets running down his skin like the tears streaming his face.  Using his forearm he props himself up against the shower wall and the sobs rip through his body causing us both to shake.  The tears start to free themselves from my own eyes as I take his grief on as my own.  His father may not have meant anything to me, but he was something to Emerson and that's enough for me.
     The water runs cold, and Emerson's cries turn to cold shudders.  I shut my eyes, focusing on the sound of the water hitting the tile to keep me from shivering.  Time passes and I keep on holding on for fear of losing him.  Eventually I hear the pipes groan as the water stops.  I open my eyes, praying that our bad times have gone down the drain along with the cold, dirty water. Emerson's hand superficially rests on top of mine, there's no fire, and I know we're not out of the woods yet.
     "I want to hear the spark in your voice when you say my name," I whisper quietly into his back.  "I need to feel the flames burning my skin as you touch me.  Come back to me Emerson."
     He turns in my arms so that he's facing me.  His reddened eyes looking down upon me as I look up to him with hope.  I want to put this behind us, to start moving forward with our future but the look in his eyes tells me that I'm not done fighting yet.  He's still not here with me.
     "I need to know you still love me, Emerson," I plead.
     The words fly from his mouth before any time passes.  "I love you," spills out but something deep inside me tells me that it's more reflex than his true feelings.
     Shaking my head, I sigh.  "No," I mutter quietly before dropping my arms from his waist.  "Hearing it said, and feeling it are two different things."  My eyes gaze into his once vibrant brown ones.  He continues looking through me.  "I need to feel it, Emerson.  Make me feel it," I plead.
     "It's so fucked up, Presley," he chokes out.
     My head falls forward, the familiar feeling of shame sweeping over every cell of my body.  "I know."
     I hear him sigh and watch his feet as they shift in unease.  With my eyes still glued to the bottom of the shower and my clothes stuck to my skin, Emerson wraps his arms around me fore the first time since his father's death.  He pulls me close and squeezes me tightly, his nose finding the crease of my neck before he takes a deep breath, breathing me in.  The tears roll down from his eyes now, my body goes limp in his arms as his lips press against my deprived skin.
     "I never stopped loving you," he whispers between kisses.  "You've got to understand that, Presley.  The guilt is killing me.  The guilt of knowing the terrible things that man did to you. It's too much."
     "You're not him, Emerson."
     "But to think of what he did to you..." his voice trails off and his lips leave my neck.
     I know I'm losing him again.  He's slipping back into the place where what happened is controlling him.  His grip around my waist loosens, and I know he's about to let me go...possibly forever.  My hands fly to his wrists, holding him in place and my eyes lock back into his.  "Then make us both forget," I plead.
     He shakes his head.  "I can't."
     I pull him closer so that our lower halves connect.  Feeling him through my wet clothes ignites the first deep within me that I worried was lost.  "You have to try."  I stand on my tip toes and lean in to kiss his lips, but he turns at the last second, shunning my fickle attempt and landing my kiss on his cheek.  "Please," I beg as I continue to kiss his face and back him against the wall.  I press my chest against him as my hands roam his body, seeking for some sort of response.  There's no shame as I feel the familiar burn deep within my belly.  I'm fighting to keep him, and I'll stop at nothing to make him come back.
     He groans as my hand finds its way between his legs and with every stroke and kiss I can feel him lose his resolution.  Before I realize what's happening, his hands are lifting me up, his mouth crashes onto mine and our tongues find their way to each other.  I gasp for air as the seal of our mouths break long enough for him to lift my shirt over my head.  The cold air hits my wet breasts just before his mouth warms them and I cry out in ecstasy.
     Emerson leans forward and struggles to pull my pants down, they continuously get stuck on my wet skin despite my feeble attempts at wiggling them down.  Once around my ankles I kick my left foot in order to free them before lifting my leg and wrapping myself around his hip.  He kisses my lips one final time before pushing himself into me.  His lips continue to cover every inch of my face before coming to rest in the crease of my neck.  With his lips pressed to the skin of my neck, he grunts with each thrust, my body welcoming him.  My head rolls to the side as a moan escapes from my parted lips, my body relaxes once relief washes over me.
     He's reclaiming me.  And I think God for it by screaming out His name.




WOW!  Thank you A.E.  That was intense!  

But that's not all.  She is also giving away and ecopy of "Working Girl" to those of you who haven't read it or would like to gift it to a friend.  Here's how you enter:

1)  "Like" A.E. Woodward's author page by clicking here.
2)  "Like" Author Stalker Chelle's blog page by clicking here.
3)  Comment below that both steps are done.

That's it!  Our winner will be chosen by Random.org on Friday.  Good luck and Happy Reading!