It’s actually the first thought that flashes through my head the second I look up from the iced coffee drenching the front of my shirt into the dark, piercing eyes of Liam Martin. Liam Martin the best-selling novelist who’s book I devoured before I even came to Hardham. Professor Martin, I should say. Except there’s nothing “professor” about Liam Martin; nothing dry or stuffy or old like the title usually implies. Professor Martin with the sexy black glasses, the thick beard, and the sleeve of tattoos running up his arm. Professor Martin who barely adheres to any sort of professional dress code, wearing t-shirts and jeans to lecture most of the time - not that any member of the female student body or probably faculty objects, I’m sure. Professor Martin who’s gorgeous, in that dark, brooding writer way. Professor Martin who probably doesn’t even know who I am, even thought I sit at the front of his lecture three times a week, because he’s got every girl on campus gaga over him. Except right then, he’s staring at me like he’s hungry, his eyes devouring me in a way that sends a shiver down my back as I catch my breath and lose myself in those eyes, completely ignoring the iced coffee drenching the front of my shirt.
What do You think about Professor: A First Time Novel?
