Because

Ilsa Madden-Mills fell in love with her beautifully flawed characters in Very Wicked Things, she penned Very Wicked Beginnings as a prequel

novella to the book, featuring the story of football star Cuba Hudson and

ballerina Dovey Beckham.

Since

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, all May proceeds from the sale of the

novella will be donated to The

Keith Milano Memorial Fund which benefits the American Foundation for Suicide

Prevention (AFSP).  www.afsp.org

Title: Very Wicked

Beginnings

Series: Briarcrest Academy

#1.5, a prequel novella to Very Wicked Things

Release: Both books will

release on May 13^th!

Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills

Cover: Photography by

Toski Covey

Graphics: Sommer Stein

at Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Model: Tanner Belcher

Book Description for

prequel Very Wicked Beginnings:

Girls

say I’m a walking, talking sex god.

Guys call me Hollywood because my life is golden.

It’s

not.

But,

ESPN did rank me as a four star recruit, calling me one of the best defensive

players since Briarcrest Academy opened its esteemed doors. So yeah, with

football and a stellar

GPA, my future

seemed good.

Then

Dovey Beckham shows up in her short skirts and ballet shoes. Driving me insane.

Making me want to beg for her attention.

But

that wouldn’t happen, because Cuba Hudson didn’t beg for anything.

She

walked around BA like she owned the place, and most days she looked right

through me…the one girl I couldn’t have.

So,

of course, I made it my mission to claim her, to put her notch on my bedpost.

Because

no girl can resist the Heartbreaker

of BA.

But

I never planned on destroying her.

I

never planned on wrecking the one thing that could save me.

Welcome

to Briarcrest Academy, where wicked

love begins…and ends.

Very Wicked Beginnings

Excerpt from Chapter

One

“Two things about me: I play

football—and girls.” –Cuba

Hudson

I wanted

the gorgeous girl in the window.

More

specifically, I wanted the dark-haired girl dancing inside the Symthe Arts

Building as I stood outside on the twenty yard line at football practice,

fixated on her when I should have been focused on the line of scrimmage. I

adjusted my helmet and squinted through the afternoon Dallas sun.

Did I know her?

Movement

from other players on the field pulled me back. Good thing. As defensive end,

it was my job to put the screws to or sack the quarterback as soon as the ball

snapped. But I was off today. Probably because I knew I had a shit ton of

homework waiting for me at home. With my dream of being a doctor and getting

into a good school, being on top of my game in class was important as well.

Briarcrest Academy was one of the top-rated private schools in the country,

making expectations here high.

Just like

every eighteen-year-old kid out there, I had stresses.

But I did

have more than the average. I had a sick mom.

But those

thoughts faded when I looked back at the window and watched the girl run and

then leap in the air, her body doing some kind of crazy

in-the-air-leg-split-thing. Damn.

She’d gotten at least four feet off the ground.

Then,

after landing on her feet light as a feather, she danced away from my view. I

waited for her to come back, wanting to check out her toned muscles again,

especially her tight ass. And then I randomly wondered if her tits were small.

Weren’t all dancers? Yeah. But still, she looked—

“Pay

attention, Hudson!” Coach Howe yelled at me.

Fuck.

Caught.

I

automatically stiffened and tightened my defensive stance, running my eyes

across the offensive line, waiting for the play. But the quarterback was

pussy-footing around still undecided if they were gonna run or pass. Whatever.

Matt the Quarterback was a complete jack ass. I ate guys like him for lunch

which wasn’t hard when you’re tall and fast like me.

I got

bored.

Out of my

peripheral vision, I caught a flash of pink dashing past the window.

She was

back.

And like

I was addicted to her, my eyes drifted to the building again, one part baffled

by the fascination, the other part wanting to get another glimpse of her long

legs. As I watched, she adjusted her ponytail as she laughed up at her ballet

partner—who was a dude. Crazzzy.

Yeah, you’d think he’d be all feminine and shit, but he wasn’t. Nope. Dude

looked buff, like he could bench press a school bus.

Something

about the girl called to me. Yeah, it was probably that short skirt she wore. I

pictured slipping my hand underneath it to her panties. Her core would be hot,

on fire for me, of course, and I’d ease my finger inside her wet—

Bam!  I took a hard hit from

Tank Carson, an All District offensive guard I routinely ran circles around in

practice. He might be big, but I was quick and smart and had more moves than a

freaking octopus. So the chance to plant my distracted ass on the turf was an

early Christmas present for him. That’s what I get for letting some piece of

ass get in my game, even if it was practice.

And so. My unprepared body flew through the air with 290

pounds of Tank on top of it. My head followed my body and hit the turf, the

contact reverberating inside my helmet and then everything went black…

Charity Information:

The

Keith Milano Memorial Fund was established to help raise awareness about the

devastating and deadly disease that is mental illness. Keith’s spirit and

laughter is kept alive through our efforts to increase awareness about mental

illness and to raise money for education and imperative research. Keith often

struggled with society’s perception of mental illness.  Our hope is that

by having the strength to say that Keith was “Bipolar” we can strip away the

stigma and help others to be more open about their disease. www.keithmilano.org

The

Keith Milano Memorial Fund benefits the American Foundation for Suicide

Prevention (AFSP).  www.afsp.org