(I know it’s Thursday, but I’m too excited to wait until Friday for this post. I’m thankful that Mira is coming out. There! Hehe..)
Have you heard that Desire in Any Language is coming out next Friday from Blushing books? Yes, next Friday! It’s all happened very fast! Mira, our heroine, is a 20-something studying to be a translator. If you haven’t read the blurb already, here it is:
Desire in Any Language
Mira thought she wanted a spanking. What she got was love.
On her own for the first time, Mira is studying abroad for her translator’s certificate. Unfortunately, the heady excitement of dance clubs, late-night parties, and endless shopping quickly distracts her from her educational goals. Mira’s advisor offers her private tutoring, but the combined pressures of culture and language difference threaten Mira’s progress at school. She is unable to get her act together until she makes a discovery that horrifies and tantalizes her: in her new country, corporal punishment is a way of life. The secret to her academic success just might also fulfill her wildest, unspoken dreams.
Yesterday, I shared a few snippets about Mira’s struggle to learn a foreign language. Today, I’m sharing with you an excerpt that Patty Devlin posted the day of the release announcement. This is the scene where Mira learns that her bad-student ways will no longer be accepted by her kind but strict tutor.
(Kat is quite put out that she has been upstaged once again! She thinks it’s unfair that she will be the youngest when really she came to me first. I tell her that Vennie and Mira are helping to pave the way, but Kat’s still not happy. What can I say? Another oops baby? :D)
“Mira, look me in the eye and tell me that this isn’t some crazy ploy to get out of telling me that you haven’t done your homework for today.”
Oh crap. I thought she didn’t do interrogations. I thought she was Encouragement and Cheerleading and Meticulous Dedication, not some psychic mind reader suddenly seeming far more than four years older.
“Could you just sign it?” I mumble. Even though her tutoring is private, it is still an official registered class. It was, naturally, she who waded through the mounds of paperwork and red tape to give me transcript credit for her after-hours labor of love.
“I could sign it,” she says in a strange voice.
I involuntarily look up to see such vulnerability and hurt on her face that I again have to look down. Blinking the tears away.
“I could sign it and let you walk away from the months you’ve invested in this school—all because you couldn’t take one day to complete your work. I hope you’re not planning to attend another language institute in the near future because a drop-fail will hardly help your chances for admission. Is that what you want?”
I hadn’t thought about jeopardizing future school plans, but I have to admit that she is right. Suddenly this all seems a lot more serious than I thought. I thought I could just pick up and leave on a whim. After all, I’ve already done the college thing. This is just extra. But if I want to become a translator, at least some official credentials are needed.
“No,” I admit in a small voice.
“What do you want, Mira? Have you thought anything except just to run away?”
“Why are you scolding me?” I ask plaintively. I know it’s a mistake even before the words are out, and her voice stiffens.
“What do you want me to say? ‘Yes, go ahead. Walk away. Give up on yourself.’ Do you really want me to say that?”
The tears are becoming dangerously close now. This lecture might be a once-in-nine-months occurrence, but she’s certainly packing enough punch to make up for lost time.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. Her warm, sweet-smelling arm rests on my back and gently presses me to lean against her.
“Don’t be sorry,” she says in her familiar gentle voice. “Be persistent. You owe it to yourself to give it another try.” I can only nod as the tears slip noiselessly through my closed eyelids.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment. “I don’t really want to leave.”
“I know.” She lets me rest against her for a moment. I pull away, sniffling and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
“And I think we need to make some changes in our modus operandi.”
Her gaze wanders briefly to the “rod of love” lying horizontally across her desk. Her eyes search my face questioningly. I gulp. Me? Like a high-schooler? Finally, I give the smallest possible nod.