PERFECT CHEMISTRY meets SAVE THE LAST DANCE in this story of tragedy and hope, anger and forgiveness.
Last year, seventeen-year-old Natalya Pushkaya was attending the School of Performing Arts in New York City. Last year, she was well on her way to becoming a professional ballerina. Last year, her father was still alive.
But a car crash changed all that—and Natalya can’t stop blaming herself. Now, she goes to a regular high school in New Jersey; lives with her onetime prima ballerina, now alcoholic mother; and has no hope of a dance career.
At her new school, however, sexy soccer player Antonio sees a brighter future for Natalya, or at least a more pleasant present. Keeping him an arabesque away proves to be a challenge for Natalya and his patient charms eventually draw her out of her shell. When upsetting secrets come to light and Tonio’s own problems draw her in, Natalya shuts down again, this time turning to alcohol herself.
Can Natalya learn to trust Antonio before she loses him—and destroys herself?
One Two Three has 50 reviews on Amazon, for an average of 4.3. It's currently in the 500s in the teen fiction on Amazon US.
A few reviews...
"With compelling characters and sudden musings, this book is sure to break your heart and make you sing at the same time." Girl in the Woods
"One, Two, Three was everything that I hoped for, from the parts dealing with ballet, to Nata and Tonio and each of their families, to the romance that I just couldn't get enough of." Books Live Forever.
"Definitely give this one a read!" Cait from Royal Social Media.
"The ups and downs Natalya experiences were beautifully written and very realistic." Gabic reads.
"One, Two, Three is a beautiful novel which will definitely leave you in a "reading slump" for days." Bookaholic Reads.
1.
Chopin’s music is the soundtrack of my life.
Papa played his most heart-wrenching waltzes, Mama used his nocturnes as lullabies when I was little, and my legs itched to form an arabesque whenever I heard Polonaises op. 40. Chopin used to be my escape, a way to dream about the future, about everything I wanted—from finally not being scared of falling in love to dancing the role of Cinderella one day at the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow.
But that was before.
The somber melody of Chopin’s Prelude op. 28 oppresses me. That piece is also called “Suffocation.” How fitting. Mama listens to it on repeat. She’s slumped at the living room table in the far corner. Only one of the lights is working and the darkness almost settles around her as she pours herself one shot of vodka after the other.
“Mama, you need to go to sleep,” I tell her for the fifth time. She’s downing the bottle as if there’s no tomorrow, and maybe that’s what she’s hoping for. Her head wobbles from one side to another. She’s already far gone. I missed my doctor’s appointment today because she was too drunk to drive me. I had to lie for her again. Dr. Gibson bought it, and we rescheduled for two weeks. He agreed that as long as I followed his advice (wearing my knee brace, doing my strength exercises, and no jumps) I could volunteer at the community center to help little kids learn to dance. He even gave my name to the volunteer coordinator there. She was looking for a college student, but I convinced her during the interview that even though I was only seventeen, she should still give me a chance. If I do well with the kids this Saturday, I’ll get to help out every weekend for a few hours.
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German
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Translation in progress.
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