Super Sweet Sixteenth Century Cover Reveal

Here’s the new cover for Super Sweet Sixteen Century. I got a sneak peek of what’s inside (actually, I got to read the whole novel) and the entire book was like a fun adventure that made me smile, laugh, and swoon.

Blurb: On the precipice of her
sixteenth birthday, the last thing lone wolf Cat Crawford wants is an
extravagant gala thrown by her bubbly stepmother and well-meaning father. So
even though Cat knows the family’s trip to Florence, Italy, is a peace
offering, she embraces the magical city and all it offers. But when her
curiosity leads her to an unusual gypsy tent, she exits . . . right into
Renaissance Firenze.

Thrust into the sixteenth century armed with only a backpack full of contraband
future items, Cat joins up with her ancestors, the sweet Alessandra and
protective Cipriano, and soon falls for the gorgeous aspiring artist Lorenzo.
But when the much-older Niccolo starts sniffing around, Cat realizes that an
unwanted birthday party is nothing compared to an unwanted suitor full of
creeptastic amore.

Can she find her way back to modern times before her Italian adventure turns
into an Italian forever?

            I
place my left hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and slip my right one into his. I
pause to listen to the music floating over the tinkling voices and bubbling
fountain, and begin counting the three-beat tempo. “One, two, three. One, two,
three.”
            I
stand still, only my head moving, slowly nodding with my words so he can hear
the rhythm.
            When
his head begins subtly bobbing with mine, I show him how to add his feet. He
takes a tentative step forward with his left while I step back with my right,
then we side step, close, and repeat the steps with our other feet, all while I
lightly whisper the beat count.
            The
breeze picks up, blowing my skirt and skimming my veil across the back of my
neck. Chills run down my spine, but the warmth coursing through my veins from
being in his arms provides a delicious contradiction.
            Lorenzo
continues nervously darting his eyes to our feet, but he is dancing. As
he relaxes into the movement, his shoulders rising and falling with the steps,
the confidence he always seems to exude creeps back on his face, and he
tightens the hold around me. Our faces are kissably close, our lips a hairs
breadth away from touching. I stare into the chocolate depths of his eyes and
the rest of the ball fades away. The only music guiding our steps is my light
whisper and the erratic rhythm of our breathing. Time slows. Lorenzo grins.
            “I
think you got it,” I say breathlessly, running my hand along the soft fabric of
his shoulder, feeling the rock-hard muscles underneath.
            My
body curls inward, pressing against his. The proper form for the waltz is a
straight spine and shoulders back, but if there was ever a time to break the
rules, this is it.

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