The Diary of a Late Bloomer; A quirky coming of age novel
L.M.L Gil
Publication date: June 29th 2020
Genres: Coming of Age, New Adult, Romance, Sports
Every wallflower blooms at their own perfect time, but some like quirky Lo, take longer than others.
Lo is a sheltered 20-year-old who loves baking, manga/anime, and octopi. When she spots her college swim team’s tryout flyer sporting her favorite sea creature, an octopus she knows it’s a sign that she must join the Flying Octopi.
The only things standing her way are her social awkward nature and the fact that she just learned to swim.
Will Lo find her place to shine or will her social anxiety DQ her dreams?
Late Bloomer is a new adult novel that is a cross between Bridget Jones’s Diary, Baywatch and Kuragehime.
Excerpt:
“I feel like the world is spinning around
me,” I said.
“That’s what it’s like to be drunk,” Nick commented.
“Yes, but I also mean in general, even before drinking. My mom and dad are arguing at night. They never argued before. My mom complains and my dad stays silent. That’s the norm.”
“I feel sorry for your dad,” Nick made a face.
“I guess. I’m worried that they’ll get divorced.” I hadn’t even acknowledged the fear to myself.
“It happens,” was all he said to comfort me.
“Not to my family,” I protested.
“If you say so,” he shrugged.
“I think my brother is lonely but I don’t know how to help him have friends.”
“He’ll be fine. Plus, he didn’t seem lonely to me,” Nick replied. “You’re a talkative drunk, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never been drunk before. And Martin’s mad at me because I said stupid things,” I complained.
“If Marlin knows you, he should know most of the stuff that comes out for mouth is dumb,” he grumbled.
“I’m scared,” I wasn’t sure if my fear was of being drunk or just in general.
“You won’t die so stop with the melodrama.”
“But I feel like I’m in a tunnel,” I was having tunnel vision.
“That’s because we are,” he sighed.
“Nick, can I ask you for a favor?”
“You want more from me than an escort home in a taxi?” he glared at me. “What favor do you want?”
“Can you hold my hand?” I looked at his hands, “I know you don’t like people touching you.”
He chuckled. “What makes you say that?”
“You always avoid hugs and handshakes,” I replied.
“You’re observant,” he scrunched up his nose. “People are dirty.”
He reached over and grabbed my sweaty and sticky hand.
His nose scrunched up even more, but he didn’t complain.
The warmth of his hand calmed the nausea. He held my hand the whole ride and only let go to pay the driver.
“That’s what it’s like to be drunk,” Nick commented.
“Yes, but I also mean in general, even before drinking. My mom and dad are arguing at night. They never argued before. My mom complains and my dad stays silent. That’s the norm.”
“I feel sorry for your dad,” Nick made a face.
“I guess. I’m worried that they’ll get divorced.” I hadn’t even acknowledged the fear to myself.
“It happens,” was all he said to comfort me.
“Not to my family,” I protested.
“If you say so,” he shrugged.
“I think my brother is lonely but I don’t know how to help him have friends.”
“He’ll be fine. Plus, he didn’t seem lonely to me,” Nick replied. “You’re a talkative drunk, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never been drunk before. And Martin’s mad at me because I said stupid things,” I complained.
“If Marlin knows you, he should know most of the stuff that comes out for mouth is dumb,” he grumbled.
“I’m scared,” I wasn’t sure if my fear was of being drunk or just in general.
“You won’t die so stop with the melodrama.”
“But I feel like I’m in a tunnel,” I was having tunnel vision.
“That’s because we are,” he sighed.
“Nick, can I ask you for a favor?”
“You want more from me than an escort home in a taxi?” he glared at me. “What favor do you want?”
“Can you hold my hand?” I looked at his hands, “I know you don’t like people touching you.”
He chuckled. “What makes you say that?”
“You always avoid hugs and handshakes,” I replied.
“You’re observant,” he scrunched up his nose. “People are dirty.”
He reached over and grabbed my sweaty and sticky hand.
His nose scrunched up even more, but he didn’t complain.
The warmth of his hand calmed the nausea. He held my hand the whole ride and only let go to pay the driver.
Author Bio:
L.M.L. Gil is a writer, a reader, and a dreamer.
When she is not writing, editing, or thinking about her next story, she is either in the kitchen testing out a new recipe or snuggling with her fur munchkins reading.
As a glutton, she equates a good novel to a scrumptious dessert, which leaves your heart a little lighter and a smile on your face.
She hopes her novels provide a sweet treat without the calories
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