Big Ginormous thanks to Cover Me Darling for this cover!
ANNOUNCING – The Tutor
After a party gone wrong and in desperate need of money for the fall semester of college, twenty-year-old Nora Robertson needs to escape her hometown.
She accepts a summer long live-in tutoring job for a handsome man and his little sister at a secluded home deep in the mountains.
There is no running water.
No internet or cell service.
When her tutoring job ends she’s hit with a brutal turn of events … she’s not permitted to leave.
Writing from rainy Maine today.
So, I have a group on Facebook… you should probably join it. I share lots in there and interact. I give things away too! Come have fun with us! https://www.facebook.com/groups/klarsen/
Another little tid bit…
The Tutor releases June 5th. There are preorder links
Amazon ➜ COMING SOON
Here is the feedback I am getting so far regarding The Tutor… makes me think that perhaps you Jezebel fans will really dig this one too!
“You know when you’re nervous/panicked and your mouth fills with saliva and yet your stomach drops and you feel like you can’t swallow?! THAT’S how I felt reading The Tutor. Like omg. So. Freaking. Incredible.”
“A fascinating portrait into the minds of the captor and captive.”- Leylah Attar
“Holy. Effing. Tits. It knocked my socks off. The Tutor was the craziest and the biggest mind-fuck I’ve read in a long while. Wow. An amazing, captivating, enrapturing story.”
“The Tutor weaves a romantic tale that will tip you upside down, and smack the love right out of you.”
“Every last word grips you. Mind blowing.”
“Love, Lies, Corruption, Sex, Longing, Lust, Secrets. It’s all in there”
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“What’s your name?”“Nora,” I whisper. My throat feels sunburned. Sweat soaks the hair covering my neck. Wind gusts hair across my face. Something drips from my head. Or onto my head. I can’t tell which. A blurry face appears over mine. Too close. “Nora, we’re going to lift now.” I stare at the gray sky. I shudder and worry about what might be watching from the thicket of woods nearby. I can’t nod and my mouth makes no sound. For a moment I feel weightless. Free. I imagine it’s how birds feel soaring through the sky. Gravity quickly reminds me that something’s amiss. My leg feels like it’s on fire. I wince when I’m jostled into some kind of metal box. An ambulance. The sterile hygienic odor hits me like a brick in the face.Everything is a watery blur from behind the rain-streaked windows of the ambulance doors. People have a deep-seated craving for a sense of family, belonging, identity. I squeeze my eyes shut. Looking back, I realize that he probably interviewed lots of different girls for the job and picked the one he thought would be easiest. It wasn’t just the girl he chose but the life she came from as well. “Nora, stay with me.” The paramedic’s voice is deep and oddly soothing. It pulls me from my thoughts. I open my eyes, slide my gaze from the ceiling to him. I want to know what he looks like but my eyes won’t focus enough to get a good look. He pokes at me with something as if I am a large bug to be inspected. My body screams with pain. It feels like there’s a noose around my throat so tight stars dance in my eyes. I’ve experienced this before though. I can survive. Life’s made me numb. I squeeze my eyes shut again. “Nora, can you hear me?”“Nora…”I jolt awake—disoriented. Lotte? Tubes snake in and out of me. I’m covered in soft blue and don’t feel gritty with dirt anymore. The steady beeps of nearby monitors hurts my ears. So much white noise. A symphony of electronic background sound that’s headache inducing. I’ve been too used to the quiet of nature for too long. The door to the room is closed. I don’t like closed doors. Panic jumpstarts my heart. I’m trapped. Again. My leg is hoisted up and in a cast. I squint trying to recall the proper name for the contraption. My sternum aches and I have white lights dancing in my peripheral vision. The door opens. Please be Lotte. A man in a gray suit enters the room. I lift my head slightly. “Hello, Nora.” I don’t know who he is. I squint at him as he surveys me while chewing a nail. It’s strange to think of the unexpected turns a person’s life can take. “I’m detective Salve. And I need to ask you some questions.” I feel my face wrinkle in confusion. “Do you remember what happened?” he asks.I drop my head to the thin pillow; stare at the ceiling as he pulls a chair next to the bed. “I was in a car accident.” My voice is a raspy whisper. When I chance a look at him again, he’s nodding. “Yes. That’s good. Do you need anything?” he asks. Not from you.“Water,” I answer. And Lotte.“Sure thing. Hang on.” He stands, the chair legs scrape across the floor and I cringe at the noise. When he returns he holds a small cup of water out at me, a straw plunged into it. He’s younger than Holden by maybe a few years from the looks of it. I wonder how long he’s been a detective. His brown hair is close cropped and his nose has a bump in the bridge. He has nice eyes and an easy smile. A nice face, Angela would say. I take the cup from him and chance a small sip. It’s hard to swallow but I manage. I set the cup down on the table next to the bed.“So, Nora, what’s your last name?” he asks.I sigh and say, “Robertson.”Detective Salve lifts an eyebrow at me. “Really.”I lick my dry lips. “Really,” I mumble.“How old are you?” “Twenty.” He eyes me then. Takes me in. “What’s your date of birth?”“March 19th, 1996.” I know what he’s thinking- I look younger than I am. I always have. And I’m only just twenty-one.“Do you want me to call your parents?” I shake my head.“I don’t have any,” I answer. Like most people who grew up without parents, over the years I have collected little tidbits of life knowledge, scraps and bits from friends parents, teachers, and employers. Anyone who offered up a touch of wisdom and I kept them like fabric remnants so that I could someday crochet them into a nonsensical afghan that might somehow make my life better—easier. But that is the problem with crocheting-it’s full of holes. Right now I’d kill to have a parent. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where Lotte is. I don’t know if I’m close to home or close to the farm.“Is there other family I could call?” I stare at the ceiling again. A nurse comes in and explains that she’s taking my vitals, upping my fluids and asks if I need anything for my pain level. I want the detective to leave. He gives me an uneasy feeling. Men aren’t to be trusted. They have hidden dark needs they want filled. He wouldn’t want me talking to any men. Dara, the nurse, writes her name on a whiteboard and tells me to let her know if I need anything at all. She gives Detective Salve the side-eye as she leaves. I decide I like her.“Angela Clark,” I croak.“Sorry?” Detective Salve says.“Call Angela Clark.” I give him the phone number and wait for him to leave. We’re not done yet. He told me that. But at least the unidentified girl in the car wreck has been identified. I buzz the nurse. She’s quick.“My head is killing me.” Dara nods while simultaneously darting around. She reminds me of a butterfly with their erratic flight patterns. She’s dainty and delicate looking. Before I can blink twice she’s handing me pills and the cup of water from the table. I swallow them down quick.“You should really try and sleep. The Doctor will be around to fill you in soon.”I bite my bottom lip and try to make myself comfortable before I close my eyes. I shouldn’t close my eyes. I feel guilty for not getting up. For not finding Lotte or asking about her but if I’m here–safe, she’s probably here–safe. Scared but safe.When I sleep my brain doesn’t hurt. The world is quiet. At least it used to be that way. Sleep was a heavenly escape. I didn’t dream. Sleep provided me sweet escape for eight hours. It’s dark out when I wake. Rather, when I’m roused from sleep.“Ms. Robertson.” An unfamiliar voice. I blink a few times before rubbing away the sleep crusties. My mouth is dry again. My leg throbs. My chest aches. Is this a broken heart? I stuff the idea way deep down- for Lotte.“Nora,” I scratch out. He tucks my chart under his armpit and hands my water to me. I drink the remaining liquid. It’s not enough. I’m somnolent and feel desiccated.“Nora,” he says.“Yes.”“You’re aware of the car accident yes?”“Yes,” I answer. The road was uneven and icy. I remember screaming at Lotte to hang on as I yanked the wheel and slammed the brake pedal.“You’re lucky to be alive,” he says and a part of me wants to laugh but I don’t. “You shattered your femur and part of your patella. You sustained a nasty contusion on your sternum and a serious concussion. It was estimated that you were pinned under your truck for at least three hours before help arrived which is partly why you’re dehydrated and suffered moderate hypothermia.”“Okay. Where’s Lotte?” I ask.He stares at me a beat. “Who’s Lotte?”“Charlotte,” I say. “She was in the truck with me.”He pinches his lips closed. Swings his tongue around his teeth behind his bottom lip. “As far as I know, there was no one else recovered at the scene.” He looks everywhere but me. Recovered. The word doesn’t sit right with me.“That can’t be right. She was in the truck with me.” I close my eyes, recall what I can. I know she was with me.He stares at me intently now. Then, “Tell you what? I will ask around for you. Maybe I’m wrong.”“When can I leave?” I ask.“We need to do a couple more CAT scans, get your fluids up and monitor your break. But outside of that—soon.”Now I do laugh. “That doesn’t sound very soon.” “It’s all relative,” he says with an easy grin. “Also, the EMTs didn’t recover any personal effects. Do you have health insurance or an emergency contact you’d like on file?”I frown and shake my head. “I already spoke with a detective. He’s calling someone for me but I don’t have insurance,” I groan. “Is that a problem?”“Not at all. Just another step to take. I’ll send someone up to get you officially admitted and work out payment options with you. I expect you’ll be moved upstairs out of emergency shortly.”“How long have I been here?”“You arrived,” he looks at his watch. A big fancy one. One that looks expensive. I can hear the ticking from my bed. It’s amazing how much more you use your other senses after months living in the woods. “Fourteen hours ago. Most of that was spent in surgery to set your femur and get the screws in place.” “Oh.”“Do you have any questions for me, Nora?”My gut clenches. “No. I’m fine.” The better I begin to feel, the more rested I am, the worse my panic becomes. He’s still out there and Lotte is missing. I am in deep trouble.
In middle school, a few friends and I rode horses to school every morning. We held reigns. We trotted. On our PRETEND horses. As in… there was no actual horse. Sometimes I wonder how I survived middle school at all.
Now in all fairness, one of said friends actually took riding lessons. But me? Nope. I did not. I just pretend trotted. I kept a ‘stable’ of horses, complete with names, in my closet. It was a thing. I mean sure I wasn’t the coolest kid in 6th grade but really, who is at that age?
Why am I telling you this?
We all do weird things. So fly your weird flag and be proud of who you are. I mean, I don’t still ride pretend horses when walking around but… it happened. And surprisingly there is a new movement…where kids are competing in stick horse events.
Ok so moving on… The Tutor is nearing release and it’s cover reveal. The Tutor is weird–just like me. Just like you. It will push boundaries. Make you think hard about love and what it is. What it means. It is gritty and edgy and at times raw.
It’s a little dark. It’s sexy. It’s suspenseful and thrilling.
In honor of its impending release, I am giving away a Signed Copy of The Marriage Pact and an Audible copy of Imposter! ENTER GIVEAWAY Check out what people are saying about them here:
/\/\ that is not a typo. We adopted a new pup in January to give Doodles a friend. He was a stray street dog in Peurto Rico at six months old. Imagine his surprise being relocated to Maine!
Here is how that’s going.
Doodles is 6. He’s a beagle/basset mix (so awkward as fuck looking) and he is the best dog a girl could want. Until Biff. Yes, we named our new dog after Biff from Back to the Future. 🙂
Doodles is now suffering from a severe case of only child syndrome. Doodles is smart. Doodles is loyal. Doodles is chill. Doodles has been an only dog for too long apparently.
I give both Biff and Doodles rawhide bones to chew on. Doodles gently removes his from my hand like always and goes to lay down. Biff does the same. Doodles does not eat his bone. He watches Biff chew his. He quietly gets up and slowly, casually even, approaches Biff and gently removes Biff’s bone from his mouth. He then carries it back to his spot and drops it on the floor next to his bone. He lays down and ignores BOTH bones knowing they are securely out of reach from Biff.
Doodles will no longer eat from his bowl in the kitchen if Biff is in there eating. He doesn’t want to see Biff when he eats. He apparently has a no eye contact rule.
All Biff wants to do is whatever his older brother Doodles is doing and to play. If Doodles is on the couch sleeping, Biff must join him. He jumps up on the couch and snuggles right into Doodles awkward body to sleep. Doodles promptly jumps off the couch and into a chair where Biff can’t fit.
Instead of letting Biff know that he is doing something wrong. AKA chewing Daddy’s slipper. Doodles refuses to acknowledge Biff at all while in the act. I caught Doodles staring at the refrigerator unmoving while Biff destroys (insert any object really) right in front of his face. Doodles face says… No. I will not be a part of this. This is how one gets yelled at. By pretending you don’t exist, I will not get in trouble.
In short, my most loveable dog Doodles, is being a dick!
They play occasionally and there is no aggression between them. I don’t want PETA up my butt over this post. It is most closely relatable to an older sibling who is grievously irritated that their younger sibling exists. It is also worth mentioning that Doodles has like…no legs… so when they play Biff rears up and uses his front legs to bitch slap Doodles face. Hence, in our house, it’s now called being Biff slapped.