Diary of an Ageing Sexual Adolescent

All Shannon Black truly wanted was to be loved! Oh, and an abundance of seriously hot sex. What a pity she was utterly clueless – it was virgin on the ridiculous. 

In a quest to find the love of her life (or even just a boyfriend) she fumbles her way through her torturous first encounters as a sexual adolescent. From her very first kiss (with a side order of tongues) and many disastrous love-making attempts, Shannon is desperate to finally shed her virginal status and to learn first-hand all about the world of sex and love. But will she find the happily ever after that combines the two?

Diary of an Ageing Sexual Adolescent is the first book in a brand new contemporary romantic comedy series by Angelina Kennedy. It’s funny, embarrassing and nostalgic, yet at times – truly heart-breaking.

Immerse yourself in a copy of ‘Diary of an Ageing Sexual Adolescent’ today and relive your own rollercoaster of adolescence!

It is so quirky, raw and original. She has a talent to transport me to a time and place I have never experienced. A very funny and talented writer. ” Carol

Meet Angelina

I’m Angelina. And I am a writer! You have no idea how long I have waited to write those words and for it to actually be real! I have waited my whole life to share my imagination, ideals and humour with the planet (or at least the UK ……. would probably settle for Yorkshire actually).

While I have spent the last 20 odd years writing, I undertook such pleasure as a hobby. My occupation in Education meant that not only did I have little time available to indulge in the craft of writing, but the restrictions of my profession also meant that I was unable to publish some of my material. So, I took the plunge …… put my educational career on hold … and now 2017 will bring to you my debut novel: Diary of an Ageing Sexual Adolescent – The harsh and brutal truth of ‘Firsts’.

I can’t tell you how excited I am to have a chance to fill your shelves and electronic devices with the pourings of my heart and mind! I only hope you enjoy devouring it as much as I have penning it.
Love Angelina xx

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If only I could take this searing pain and fear that runs through my veins and cast it deep into the shadows that it pulls me into!
The very same shadows that quickly engulf my lungs forcing me to drown into them.
I gasp to fill my lungs with something other than the suffocating smog, but there is nothing there, nothing for me to breathe, for it’s all around, encompassing me physically, emotionally.
There is no escaping the fear, the thing, the nightmare, the anxiety, the phobia, the illness!
It pulls my eyes, sharp, forward, an inability to focus on anything but the fear.
My hands shake, my jaw quivers, my heart is sure to stop any moment.
The poor fragile, emotionally beat, organ won't be able to take this frantic pace.
It’s sure to give up, to refuse to be abused, pushed to its limit, like I have myself felt many times before.
It's the final feeling that takes me to that place of no return.
When the metaphorical plastic bag is placed tightly around my head and tied haphazardly at my nape.
The urgent fight for survival has begun!
My hands are no use to help me win my plight, they are tied behind my back by the mental disorder than renders me powerless to help myself.
I frantically scour the people gathered around me, unable to understand their lack of willingness to help.
The looks of disgust and taunting from the other humans tightens the bag around my head, heightening the panic.
I momentarily consider the strangeness of the situation.
Because even though the people fixated on me have the tools to remove the bag and save my life, they just glare. Angry! Bored! Irritated!
My eyes pleading with them to save my life, or at the very least, a drop of compassion.
Do they not see this means of suffocation over my head?
Many of the humans may not have the means to rescue me from the shadows, but they possess the arms of comfort to help me pass into the shadows more easily.
Yet they keep their arms folded, their glares focused and their compassion buried deep inside. For some much more worthier cause, no doubt.
Anxiety - pah! You are a panicker, a worry wort, a nervous wreck, annoying, irritating, a thorn in my side.
It's not an illness! Words spoken by people who have never been to the shadows, have managed to avoid abduction by the confidence wreckers.
They have never fought the plastic bag tied so tightly around their neck.
They have never had to swallow the projectile vomit that takes over your body or felt the trappings of the silent clear cage placed around your body, separating you from the 'others'.
'The others' - The normal ones - We are not like them.
We have an anxiety disorder!
Angelina Kennedy (2012)

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