Longing to Be
About the book:
A wealthy girl from the Hamptons, Bree Van Tousen has known nothing but good fortune.
But a horrific encounter on her first night in college leaves her broken, confused, and scared.
Gradually, as Bree begins to heal, she finds solace in the arms of a forbidden man on campus. Knowing their infatuation with one another could cost him his job and her enrollment at the university, they are forced to keep their whirlwind romance a secret…from everyone.
That is, until someone decides that their happiness needs to be destroyed.
Unfortunately for Bree, she is also dealing with the police as they attempt to find the man who has terrorized numerous women on campuses throughout New York. As her wounds are reopened, Bree never sees the heartbreak coming and is crushed when the one person she needs in her life leaves her.
In Longing to Be, Bree has to make a decision. Walk away before anyone gets hurt or risk it all?
What will Bree decide?
Excerpt:
“Can I have a latte with skim milk, please?” I find myself dozing from time to time, particularly during those poorly written essays.
“Anything else?”
“Sorry, can you make two of those?” Why not try to make friends with the great professor who doesn’t seem to like me?
“Sure.”
It’s time to butter up Cooper a little. He has hardly spoken a word tome these past weeks, and honestly, if all he wanted was an essay reader, well, I’m sure he could have picked anyone off the street to do what I’ve been doing.
I take the lattes and hurry to the Draper building. As I pass my office, I can see his door open, and the light is on. I take a deep breath before I enter.
“A few minutes late,” he says, not glancing up from his paper.
I notice the clock on his wall, and it reads eight minutes past six. He has got to be kidding me.
“It’s a latte with skim milk,” I say as I put the cup on his desk.
I walk over to the shelf where I grab all my papers and my notebook.
Then, I turn and leave.
So much for making a friendly gesture.
I plop down in the desk chair and open my notebook to where I left off.
Two hours fly by, and I’m wide awake, thanks to my latte. I finish reading the last essay in that pile and finalize my notes before I stand up, put on my jacket, and head down to Cooper’s office to return my items.
I’m not surprised to see him sweaty and in his gym clothes. He peers up and smiles at me. I think he only smiled at me because he didn’t know it was me. He must be expecting someone else.
“Ms. Van Tousen.” He nods at me as I place my items on his shelf.
I notice the latte is untouched.
“Good night.”
“I’ll walk you. I’m just leaving myself.”
“Thank you, but you don’t have to go to any trouble for me.”
“I understand. Thought we might catch up.”
My cheeks are rosy. All of a sudden, he is friendlier toward me. I’m skeptical, to say the very least. He now has my full attention, and I can’t wait to see what this is all about. He has to have a motive for wanting to escort me home.
“Okay,” I respond slowly. I step out of his office and don’t look to see if he is following me.
“Mind if we go out this way?” he asks. “My bike is back here.”
“Sure,” I say as I turn and follow him.
I have a funny sensation I can’t seem to shake. I’m nervous, and I don’t know why.
We exit out the side door, and sure enough, his mountain bike is locked to the bike rack. He unlocks it and starts to mosey toward campus.
“ You know, if you just want to ride your bike home, we can catch up on Wednesday.”
“Ms. Van—”
“Please. Can I ask that you please call me Bree?” This time, I’m pleading. I hate being called Ms. anything.
He stops and gives me a pained expression. “Okay, I can do that.”
My God, he seems terribly uncomfortable at the thought of calling me by my name. So weird.
“Thank you.”
He continues to walk. “I assume you live across campus?”
Most of the freshman and sophomore dorms are on the opposite side of campus.
“Yes, I do. Willis Hall.”
“Wonderful.”
“You?”
“Um, I can tell you that I do not live on campus.” He is formal when he speaks.
I realize that, despite his age, he is still an authority at the university, and I should not have asked him that.
“I’m sorry. I’m so used to asking people on campus that I forgot, you know, that I should not have asked that. I apologize.”
His face softens. “No need to.”
I’m not sure if he is walking with me to talk about school or more get to-know-you type talk, so I wait for him to ask me a question.
We continue on in silence for a few minutes, and we cross the main road. I’m dying inside.
Finally, he speaks, “You enjoying the internship?”
Crap. “Yes, totally,” I lie.
He hesitates and then smiles. “What have you enjoyed the most thus far?”
Ugh. “Well, you know, reading the essays.” Because it’s the only damn thing I’ve done for over a month.
“One could say, that’s all that I have assigned to you.” His tone is slightly sarcastic.
I am annoyed. Thankfully, I can see Willis Hall up ahead.
“Coop—”
His eyes get wide.
“Assistant Professor Cooper,” I say in a huff, “since that is all you have allocated to me, then why ask me to tell you what I have done and what I like? Am I not performing to your standards? If that is the case, then I would like you to tell me, so I can try to improve.”
He stops and turns toward me, resting his hand on his handlebars. I am quickly regretting my words and, more importantly, my tone. “I was simply asking for specifics.”
Unwilling to apologize, I say, “I would specifically like to do more than read essays. I have enjoyed reading a few, but some of them are just crap and hard to even get through, to be honest.”
“You seem like the type of person who is,” he says with an edge. He continues forward.
“The type of person who is what exactly?”
“Straightforward.”
I hurry to catch up with him. “I never said straightforward.”
“Well, brutally honest might be too strong.”
I either want to burst into tears or claw his eyes out. I’m torn. He seems to speak in riddles, and I can’t figure out the meaning behind any of his words. I continue on and try not to let him get the best of me. I stare up at the night sky and observe the stars above as I think of happier thoughts—Claudia and Eva, swimming in the ocean, strolling along the beach. My shoulders begin to relax.
“Bree—”
“Well,” I quickly interrupt, “thank you for the escort home.” I don’t wait for him to respond and briskly approach the front of my dorm. I don’t turn around.
I enter the building and straight to the elevators. Once inside my room, I go over to my windows to draw my shade when I see him with his back to my dorm. He gets on his bike and rides back in the direction we just came.
“Well, that sucked,” I whisper.
About the Author:
Laurel (Kupillas) Ostiguy was born in Queensbury, New York—a town sandwiched between Lake George and Saratoga Springs—where she still visits with friends and family. She currently lives outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She attended Plymouth State University and graduated in 1997. She also received her master’s degree from Northeastern University in 2003. When she is not working in Boston, she loves to spend time with her family and friends enjoying the beautiful New England seasons.
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Book Credits:
Cover Designer: RBA Designs | Romantic Book Affairs
Cover model: Haley Jorden
Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing,