https://www.amazon.com/Going-Out-novel-Nicola-Atherton-ebook/dp/B0B5C7C586
If buying this is difficult for you, get in touch here and we can work something out - there are other ways of buying it
Hi everyone, my book is up on Amazon to read, with a HUGE chunk for free in the 'Look Inside' section - just click on the Kindle book cover and you'll be able to read it.
..and here's the story from the back of the paperback:
Secrets are just that, aren’t they? Secrets?
Adam is staying in his sister’s house in Manchester while his parents take a trip of a lifetime to visit her in Australia. Alone for the first time in his life, he opens himself to the opportunities and freedoms he's dreamt of for far too long. In this gloriously erotic 400 page novel, Adam discovers new friends, new experiences, a new future and a new life as a girl–a new life that comes at a cost.
Join Amy on her adventures in her new life, from her first tentative steps outside, to nights out with new friends, parties with the girls, fancy-dress parties where her new friends get her into far too much trouble, a job she may always have dreamt of, shopping trips for a new life, and – shhh – one or two older men...
You can buy a paperback, download it to your Kindle o read it on Kindle Unlimited. If you don't want it on your bank statement, email me and we can work something out
I've pasted the Prologue below as a taster - it sets the tone beautifully, I think x
Prologue
I pick up the handbag I used the night before, and, unhurriedly, I put my lipstick, mascara and a mirrored compact powder case inside. I snap open my purse and drop in my bankcard, student ID and three ten-pound notes. I can get more money from a cash machine if I need it later.
Check the rooms are tidy. Shut the doors and go downstairs.
I check the downstairs rooms deliberately, making sure all of the windows and doors are locked before I pick my phone up off the kitchen table. I scroll through the address book, searching for the taxi company I used the last time I was here, then watch my red-nailed finger press the dial button. Three rings, then a voice, busy office sounds in the background.
'Red Line Taxi, where to?' says the man on the other end of the phone. I tell him the name of the street at the end of the lane by my back gate, and wait while he writes it down. I tell him that the driver will have to beep his horn when he arrives.
'No problem love, ten minutes,' he says, hanging up immediately.
The line between fantasy and reality sharpens again, and as much as I try to stay calm, I'm faint with the thought of what I've just done. I drop the phone on the table, and stare at it, aghast. There is a man coming to pick me up in a cab in ten minutes if I don't do something right now. I won't be able to stop myself, I know that, but I know somewhere inside of me that I have to, I have to call back and cancel. I'm alarmed to find that I'm shaking, but still leave my phone on the table. I don't know if–
—PICK IT UP—
—time is passing quickly or slowly, but I do know that the taxi driver is on his way, right now. Instead of picking the phone up, I walk into the hall and stand in front of the tall mirror on the wall. I'm horrified to feel my resistance fading. I feel gorgeous, and search for any sign that might give me away—
—CALL THEM AND CANCEL THE BLOODY TAXI!—
I take the mascara from my handbag and stroke my eyelashes a little more, my face close to the mirror, taking my time, checking my lipstick—
—CALL THE F—
—smiling sweetly at my reflection as I feel some part of me, deep inside, recoil in terror.
My mind is reeling now.
The taxi will be here any second. Ten minutes must have passed already. I've still got time though, loads of time to cancel. It's OK, I don't have to go anywhere.
I find myself thinking of all the things I won't be able to check later, worrying ideas, like whether my stockings are pulled up high enough, and I lift the hem of my dress and pull them straight on my smooth thighs.
Stop. JESUS, STOP!
I stare hard at the lace tops of my stockings. Reality sets in clearly when I see the ridiculous lace knickers I'm wearing, the straps from my suspender belt tugging my stockings gently as I teeter in front of the mirror in my heels. I'm going to leave the house looking like this, I'm really going to do it, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CALL THEM BACK, PICK YOUR PHONE UP AND DO IT!
'Oh, call them!' I say out loud, my voice pitiful, the girl in the mirror holding the hem of her dress looking back at me petulantly, pleading.
I hear the beep of the taxi at the end of the gravel lane, his engine revving quietly.
Frozen.
Then slow motion. Red nailed fingers still holding the hem of my skirt. Fussing with the lace of my knickers as I smile at my reflection. Letting the hem drop down, covering my underwear, smoothing my dress.
Quick makeup check. Perfect.
Calmer now.
I drop my phone into my handbag and let it hang from the crook of my arm. I set the alarm in the hall, the buttons difficult to press with my long nails. I cross the kitchen as the alarm beeps, my heels scraping on the floor. I open the back door and step outside.
I lock the door behind me. Walk across the patch of grass to the path. Unlock the back gate, locking it after me, dropping my key into my handbag with my lipstick and mascara. Take the steps to the waiting black cab, the driver on my side of the road, his engine running. He's looking at me squarely, and a final part of me gives in, swinging my hips, taking small pretty steps, one foot directly in front of the other, the breeze cool on my bare legs. Catching the driver's eye and smiling sweetly. A little wave. He steps out of the cab and opens the door for me.
I swing my legs in, crossing one over the other as I settle in.
'Roads are quiet, won't take long, love.'
We drive away.
A lovely review:
One thing the author did particularly well was to capture the incredible thrill of cross-dressing, particularly in its early stages (during transformations), which can be confusing, intoxicating and scary as hell, all at the same time. She also managed to convey that thrilling/terrifying feeling that you’re helpless in the grip of some powerful force, that comes from inside you, that is compelling you to feminize yourself—and to push the envelope just that little bit further each and every time you “dress”. That, indeed, is what Going Out is all about. Trust me, you won’t regret reading it.' Amanda's Reading Room (WELL worth a look!)