Blog Tour: A Crown of Wishes Excerpt

Welcome to the next stop in A CROWN OF WISHES Blog Tour! It's the sequel to THE STAR-TOUCHED QUEEN, so if you haven't read that yet, STOP READING NOW!

Are we good? You okay there? Great! Today, I'll be sharing an excerpt from the novel, thanks to the fabulous people at St. Martin's Griffin. Y'all, I finally finished this book last night, and it's all that and a box of cookies. So, so good. Without further ado, here's the excerpt!


The guards unbound my wrists and shoved me into a red room.
I waited for them to go before pulling out a small silk bag of
pearl dust I had swiped from the cosmetics table. I repeated
the flimsy plan in my head: Throw the dust in his eyes, gag him, steal his
weapons. If the Prince made a sound, I’d hold the dagger to his throat
and hold him ransom. If he didn’t make a sound, I’d make him free me
for his own life. I knew I couldn’t get far on my own, but most people
could be bribed, and if bribery didn’t work, threats always did.

I was glad they hadn’t taken me to a throne room. The last time I
was in a throne room, Skanda had ripped away my hopes for the king-
dom and destroyed my future.

Arjun did not meet my eyes. And he refused to look up when his new bride
and my best friend was hauled into the room. Nalini sank to her knees. Her gaze
was frantic: leaping back and forth from me to Arjun and the dead on the ground.

Skanda’s knife was pressed to her throat, sharp and close enough that beads of
blood welled onto her skin.

“I know what you want,” said Skanda.

I closed my eyes, shuttering the memory. I looked around the
room, wondering which corner was the best position for attacking. At
one end, a trellis of roses covered the wall. My chest tightened. I used
to grow roses. One trellis for every victory. I had loved watching the
blood red petals unfurl around thorns. Looking at them reminded me
of my people’s love: red as life. A month before Skanda had me thrown
over the Ujijain border, he had set them on fire in a drunken stupor.

By the time I got there, it was too late. Every petal had curled and
blackened.

“You think these flowers are tokens of Bharata’s love for you,” he had slurred.

“I want you to see, little sister. I want you to see just how easy it is for everything
you plan and love and tend to go up in flames.”

I’ll never forget what burning roses look like. All those scarlet
petals turning incandescent and furious. Like the last flare of the sun
before an eclipse swallows it from the sky.

“You think they love you now, but it doesn’t last. You’re the rose. Not them.
They are the flames. And you’ll never see how quickly you’ll catch fire until you’re
engulfed. One step out of the line I draw, and they will set you on fire.”

I turned my back on the roses.

I chose a corner of the room, and then sank my teeth into the in-
sides of my cheek. It was a habit I’d picked up on the eve of my first
battle. Nerves had set my teeth chattering, so I brought out a mirror
and glowered at myself. The glowering didn’t help, but I liked the way
my face looked. The small movements made my cheekbones look as
sharp as scimitars. And when I tightened my lips, I felt dangerous, as if
I were hiding knives behind my teeth. Biting my cheeks became a battle
tradition. Today I went into battle.

A door in the distance creaked. I ran through what I knew about
the Prince of Ujijain. They called him the Fox Prince. And given the
way some of the soldiers had jealously said his name, it didn’t seem like
a name given because his face had animal features. He spent part of every
year at an ashram where all the nobility sent their sons. Reputedly
brilliant. Not good. Weak with weapons. Excellent. The guards were
fond of retelling the story of his trial with the council. Prince Vikram
had to submit to three tasks in order to be named heir of Ujijain—give
the dead new life, hold a flame that never burns, and deliver the stron-
gest weapon in the world. For the first task, he whittled a piece of bark
into a knife, proving that even discarded things could be given new life
in purpose. For the second task, he released a thousand jars of fireflies
and held the small insects in his hand, proving that he could hold a
flame that never burned. And for the last task, he said that he had poi-
soned the council. Desperate for the antidote, the council named him
heir. The Fox Prince then revealed that he had lied and proved how be-
lief itself was the strongest weapon in the world.

I rolled my eyes every time I heard the tale. It sounded like some-
thing that villagers with a restless imagination would spin beside a
fire. I’d heard another rumor about him. Something about his par-
entage. That he was an orphan who’d moved the Emperor to pity. But
I doubted the vicious Emperor would be moved in such a way. The
guards told me that the Emperor kept great beasts at his side that
could tear the throat out of anyone who dared to cross him.

Footsteps shuffled down the hall. I clutched the silk bag of pearl
dust. The Prince might be clever and eloquent, but you can’t talk your
way out of death and I wasn’t going to give him a chance to speak. All
my intelligence told me that he was no match for me. I’d have him on
his knees and begging for his life in a matter of moments.

A final door opened.

The Fox Prince was here.




What did you guys think? Was it everything you wanted and more? I hope so! It hit the shelves as of this past Tuesday, so be sure to check it out!

Roshani Chokshi proved herself an author to watch with her young adult fantasy debut last spring, The Star-Touched Queen. Debuting at #4 on the New York Times bestseller list, the novel received rave reviews from fans and critics alike and appeared on the most buzzed about lists of 2016. Chokshi once again writes a beautifully crafted story of adventure, love, and magic set in the Star-Touched world with her sophomore novel A CROWN OF WISHES (St. Martin’s Griffin; 3/28/17). Building on her intricate setting based on ancient India and Greek mythology, her follow-up is a novel spun from enchantment with a strong female heroine and a swoony worthy prince who team up to win back the thrones of their kingdoms.

Gauri, the princess of Bharata, has been taken as a prisoner of war by her kingdom’s enemies. Faced with a future of exile and scorn, Gauri has nothing left to lose. Hope unexpectedly comes in the form of Vikram, the cunning prince of a neighboring land and her sworn enemy kingdom. Unsatisfied with becoming a mere puppet king, Vikram offers Gauri a chance to win back her kingdom in exchange for her battle prowess. Together, they’ll have to set aside their differences and team up to win the Tournament of Wishes – a competition held in a mythical city where the Lord of Wealth promises a wish to the victor.
Reaching the tournament is just the beginning. Once they arrive, danger takes on new shapes: poisonous courtesans and mischievous story birds, a feast of fears and twisted fairy revels. Every which way they turn new trials will test their wit and strength. But what Gauri and Vikram will soon discover is that there’s nothing more dangerous than what they most desire.
Early reviews have all agreed that Chokshi has improved on her exquisite writing and lush narrative in her sophomore novel. With an ending that will make even the most cynical New Yorker heart believe in true love, A CROWN OF WISHES takes Chokshi’s talent to all new heights.

Amazon / Barnes and Noble / IndieBound / Book Depository / Goodreads

About The Author: Roshani Chokshi is the New York Times bestselling author of THE STAR-TOUCHED QUEEN. Her work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Shimmer, and Book Smugglers. Her short story, "The Star Maiden," was longlisted for the British Fantasy Science Award.

The One Real Thing Blog Tour: Review + Giveaway + Excerpt

Title: The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk #1)
Author: Samantha Young
Published: September 6th 2016 by Berkley
Source: Finished copy courtesy of the publisher in exchange for an honest review
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes and Noble / IndieBound / Book Depository

Welcome to Hartwell, a quiet seaside escape where uncovering old secrets could lead one woman to discover the meaning of a love that lasts…

While Doctor Jessica Huntington engages with the inmates at the women’s correctional facility where she works, she’s always careful to avoid emotional attachments in her personal life. Loss and betrayal taught her that lesson long ago. But when she comes across a set of old love letters in the prison’s library and visits the picturesque town of Hartwell to deliver them to their intended recipient, she finds herself unable to resist the town’s charm—and her attraction to the sexy owner of a local bar proves equally hard to deny.

Since his divorce from his unfaithful ex-wife, Cooper Lawson has focused on what really matters: his family and the boardwalk pub they’ve owned for generations. But the first time Jessica steps into his bar, Cooper is beyond tempted to risk his heart on her. Yet as their attraction grows hotter and Jessica remains stubbornly closed off, he begins to realize it will take more than just passion to convince her there’s only one real thing in life worth fighting for….

Review: There is absolutely nothing better than curling up with the latest book by one of your favorite authors. Samantha Young just has this incredible talent for sucking you into a story from the very page...Heck, first line! THE ONE REAL THING is not an exception to this. It's quirky, fun, sexy, and just downright good!

The two main characters are easy to love. Both find themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place. You have Jessica, a doctor at the Wilmington prison who stumbles across some letters that ultimately lead her to a life changing journey. If you've ever read THE LUCKY ONE by Nicholas Sparks, it kind of reminded me of Logan's journey sans angst. Then you have Cooper, a man whose ex-wife cheated on him, running his family bar (with angst!). When these two collide, as cliche as it sounds, sparks flew. Their chemistry is electric. You could feel the sexual tension and oh, when they finally got together...Wowsas! I loved them together more than I did when they were apart. I loved that the author chose to have them build that sexual tension rather than rush into an insta-love relationship. This made me devour the book even faster.

The novel is told through both Jessica's and Cooper's point of views. One thing I found odd was that Jessica's POV was written in first person and Cooper's in third. I wonder if the author did this so readers would relate more to Jessica than Cooper? Either way, it was a little odd to me, but it didn't necessarily take anything away from the overall story.

From the quaint beach town to the sizzling romance, I highly recommend everyone check out THE ONE REAL THING. If you live in an area where the weather still permits, take it to the beach or pool with you, drink a couple cocktails, lay back and enjoy. It really is the best way to savor this fabulous novel.

Rating:

4.5 Stars




Excerpt: Why did it feel like having sex had complicated things so much? Usually sex was complication-free for me.

But before that night I’d been completely sure that Cooper was interested in exploring something more with me, and now I was freaking out that his interest would wane now that he’d had me.

I shook my head slowly. “No. It was good.”

He scowled, his arms tightening around me so much there wasn’t an inch of space between us. “It was better than fucking good, Jessica.”

I scowled back and pushed at his chest for some breathing space. “Well, I’m sure you’d know all about that.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You use the word ‘fuck’ a lot.”

“It’s a good fucking word.”

I was tempted to laugh at how disgruntled he sounded and he seemed to catch my amusement because his hold on me eased.

“What’s going on in your head, Jess?”

I thought about evading this conversation. I’d never had to have an adult, open conversation with a man about sex. However, I realized, somewhat reluctantly, if I wanted something more with Cooper Lawson I was going to have to give him more than I was used to giving.

I couldn’t change his past, but I could figure out what it was he wanted in the future by just being honest and asking the question.

“You still want something with me, right? This”—I gestured behind me to the table—“it wasn’t just about sex.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not just about sex.”

As I heaved a sigh of relief, he let go of my waist to cup my face in his hands, dipping his head down to mine so our noses almost touched. He stared deep into my eyes and I shivered. I felt like he was trying to see right into my soul.

“I’m in this for the long haul, Doc. I was before you walked into my bar tonight, but now, after the best fucking sex of my life, after how wild that was, there’s no way I’m letting you walk out of here without me.”
And there he went doing it again.

His words resonated deep within me along with giving me that deep, sexual belly flip of arousal.

My fingers curled into the top of his biceps. “Best sex of my life, too,” I murmured. “It stunned me a little. Confused me . . . I thought maybe . . . you . . . this was old hat for you . . .”

He gave me a crooked grin. “You think I make a habit of fucking women in my bar.”

“You could,” I said. “You are definitely a man who could pull that off.”

Cooper threw his head back in laughter and I pressed my body deeper into his to feel his joy.

And then he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me.

Just as I’d suspected, he was a really good hugger.

When he pulled back he was smiling gently at me. “You’re the only woman I’ve had in my bar.” He let me go only to take my hand in his. “No one sits at that table anymore.” He gestured to the scene of the best sex we’d both ever had. “It’s now a shrine.”

“You can’t do that!” I was mortified at the possibility of people finding out why there was a table in Cooper Lawson’s bar that no one was allowed to sit at.

“I can. It’s my bar. I think I’ll even carve ‘Coop and Doc were here’ on it.”

Finally getting that he was joking, I made a face. “Funny.”

“You’re slow on the uptake tonight,” he teased.

“My brain was just frazzled by the orgasm to beat all orgasms.”

He squeezed my hand. “You up for more brain frazzling?”

I shivered at the thought. “Definitely.”

His eyes darkened. “Let’s go back to my place.”

Exhilarated by the prospect, I followed him, and it wasn’t until we’d stepped outside the bar into the cool night air that I said, “I don’t suppose you know where my panties are?”

“I do, actually.” He led me to the back of his bar to the parking lot. A dark-colored GMC was the only truck there.

“Um . . . could I have them, please?”

He stopped me at the passenger side of the truck, pressing me up against the car. “Why?” he whispered against my lips before he kissed me deeply. He came up for air a few seconds later. “You’re not going to need them where we’re going.”

The nagging pressure between my legs increased. “You are so very, very good at stringing the exact right words together.”

He kissed me again.

“You’re just good with your mouth in general,” I murmured.

Cooper grinned and brushed his lips over mine. “In the truck, Doc.”


Giveaway: Thanks to the fabulous people at Berkley, you can enter to win 1 of 5 copies of THE ONE REAL THING. Did I mention it's open to international participants as well? Just fill out the Rafflecopter form below!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You Blog Tour

Welcome to the next stop in The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You Blog Tour. Woohoo! Today, I will be sharing an excerpt from the novel but first, for those who haven't heard of this book yet, let's do a bit of a background check!

"Trixie Watson has two very important goals for senior year: to finally save enough to buy the set of Doctor Who figurines at the local comic books store, and to place third in her class and knock Ben West--and his horrendous new mustache that he spent all summer growing--down to number four.

Trixie will do anything to get her name ranked over Ben's, including give up sleep and comic books--well, maybe not comic books--but definitely sleep. After all, the war of Watson v. West is as vicious as the Doctor v. Daleks and Browncoats v. Alliance combined, and it goes all the way back to the infamous monkey bars incident in the first grade. Over a decade later, it's time to declare a champion once and for all.

The war is Trixie's for the winning, until her best friend starts dating Ben's best friend and the two are unceremoniously dumped together and told to play nice. Finding common ground is odious and tooth-pullingly-painful, but Trixie and Ben's cautious truce slowly transforms into a fandom-based tentative friendship. When Trixie's best friend gets expelled for cheating and Trixie cries foul play, however, they have to choose who to believe and which side they're on--and they might not pick the same side."

Published: May 17th 2016 by St. Martin's Griffin

There's a reason everyone is raving about this book, and I think all it'll take is for your to check out the first chapter to see why. Are you ready? Let's do it!


CHAPTER ONE

Ben West spent summer vacation growing a
handlebar mustache.

Seriously.

Hovering over his upper lip—possibly glued
there—was a bushy monstrosity that shouted, “Look out,
senior class, I’m gonna tie some chicks to the train tracks
and then go on safari with my good friend Teddy
Roosevelt. Bully!”

I blindly swatted at Harper with my comic book,
trying to alert her to the fact that there was a mustachioed
moron trying to blend in with the other people entering
campus.

“I know I should have made flash cards for the
poems that Cline assigned,” she said, elbowing me back
hard, both acknowledging that she wasn’t blind and that
she hated when I interrupted her monologues about the
summer reading list. “But I found Mrs. Bergman’s
social inguistics syllabus on the U of O website and I’m
sure she’ll use the same one here.”

The mustache twitched an attempt at freedom, edging
away from West's ferrety nose as he tried to shove past a
group of nervous looking freshmen. It might have been
looking at me and Harper, but its owner was doing
everything possible to ignore us, the planter box we were
sitting on, and anything else that might have been east of
the wrought iron gate.

“So,” Harper continued, louder than necessary
considering we were sitting two inches apart. “I thought
I’d get a head start. But now I’m afraid that we were
supposed to memorize the poems for Cline. He never
responded to my emails.”

Pushing my comic aside, I braced my hands against
the brick ledge. The mustache was daring me to say
something. Harper could hear it too, as evidenced by her
staring up at the sun and muttering, “Or you could, you
know, not do this.”

“Hey, West,” I called, ignoring the clucks of protest
coming from my left. “I’m pretty sure your milk mustache
curdled. Do you need a napkin?”

Ben West lurched to a stop, one foot inside of the
gate. Even on the first day of school, he hadn’t managed
to find a clean uniform. His polo was a series of baggy
wrinkles, half tucked into a pair of dingy khakis. He
turned his head. If the mustache had been able to give me
the finger, it would have. Instead, it stared back at me
with its curlicue fists raised on either side of West’s thin
mouth.

“Hey, Harper,” he said. He cut his eyes at me and
grumbled, “Trixie.”

I leaned back, offering the slowest of slow claps.

“Great job, West. You have correctly named us. I,
however, may need to change your mantle. Do you prefer
Yosemite Sam or Doc Holliday? I definitely think it
should be cowboy related.”

“Isn’t it cruel to make the freshmen walk past you?”
he asked me, pushing the ratty brown hair out of his eyes.

“Or is it some kind of ritual hazing?”

“Gotta scare them straight.” I gestured to my blonde
associate. “Besides, I’ve got Harper to soften the blow.
It’s like good cop, bad cop.”

“It is nothing like good cop, bad cop. We’re waiting
for Meg,” Harper said, flushing under the smattering of
freckles across her cheeks as she turned back to the
parking lot, undoubtedly trying to escape to the special
place in her head where pop quizzes—and student council
vice presidents—lived. She removed her headband,
pushing it back in place until she once again looked like
Sleeping Beauty in pink glasses and khakis. Whereas I
continued to look like I’d slept on my ponytail.

Which I had because it is cruel to start school on a
Wednesday.

“Is it heavy?” I asked Ben, waving at his mustache.

“Like weight training for your face? Or are you just trying
to compensate for your narrow shoulders?”
He gave a half-hearted leer at my polo. “I could ask
the same thing of your bra.”

My arms flew automatically to cover my chest, but I
seemed to be able to only conjure the consonants of the
curses I wanted to hurl at him. In his usual show of bad
form, West took this as some sort of victory.

“As you were,” he said, jumping back into the line of
uniforms on their way to the main building. He passed too
close to Kenneth Pollack, who shoved him hard into the
main gate, growling, “Watch it, nerd.”

“School for geniuses, Kenneth,” Harper called.

“We’re all nerds.”

Kenneth flipped her off absentmindedly as West
brushed himself off and darted past Mike Shepherd into
the main building.

“Brute,” Harper said under her breath.

I scuffed the planter box with the heels of my
mandatory Mary Janes. “I’m off my game. My brain is
still on summer vacation. I totally left myself open to that
cheap trick.”

“I was referring to Kenneth, not Ben,” she frowned.

“But, yes, you should have known better. Ben’s been
using that bra line since fourth grade.”

As a rule, I refused to admit when Harper was right
before eight in the morning. It would just lead to a full
day of her gloating. I hopped off of the planter and
scooped up my messenger bag, shoving my comic inside.

“Come on. I’m over waiting for Meg. She’s
undoubtedly choosing hair care over punctuality. Again.”
Harper slid bonelessly to her feet, sighing with
enough force to slump her shoulders as she followed me
through the front gate and up the stairs. The sunlight
refracted against her pale hair every time her neck
swiveled to look behind us. Without my massive aviator
sunglasses, I was sure I would have been blinded by the
glare.

“What’s with you?” I asked, kicking a stray pebble
out of the way.

“What? Nothing.” Her head snapped back to

attention, knocking her glasses askew. She quickly
straightened them with two trembling hands. “Nothing. I
was just thinking that maybe senior year might be a good
time for you to end your war with Ben. You’d have more
time to study and read comics and…”

Unlike the tardy Meg, Harper was tall enough that I
could look at her without craning my neck downward. It
made it easier to level her with a droll stare. Sometimes,
it’s better to save one’s wit and just let the stupidity of a
thought do the talking.

She rolled her eyes and clucked again, breezing past
me to open the door.

“Or not,” she said, swinging the door open and letting
me slip past her. “Year ten of Watson v. West starts now.
But if one of you brings up the day he pushed you off the
monkey bars, I am taking custody of Meg and we are
going to sit with the yearbook staff during lunch.”

“I accept those terms,” I grinned. “Now help me
think of historical figures with mustaches. Hitler and
Stalin are entirely too obvious. I need to brainstorm
before we get homework.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lily Anderson is an elementary school librarian and Melvil Dewey fangirl with an ever-growing collection of musical theater tattoos and Harry Potter ephemera. She lives in Northern California. THE ONLY THING WORSE THAN ME IS YOU is her debut novel.
AUTHOR LINKS:

Wesbite: http://mslilyanderson.com/about/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mslilyanderson
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ms_lilyanderson
Tumblr: http://mslilyanderson.tumblr.com/

PUBLISHER LINKS:

Website: www.griffinteen.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/GriffinTeen?fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/GriffinTeen
Tumblr: http://griffinteen.tumblr.com/

The Star-Touched Queen Blog Tour

Welcome to the next stop in The Star-Touched Queen Blog tour. Today I'll be sharing with you guys an excerpt from the book. For those who haven't heard of THE STAR-TOUCHED QUEEN yet...

"Fate and fortune. Power and passion. What does it take to be the queen of a kingdom when you're only seventeen?

Maya is cursed. With a horoscope that promises a marriage of Death and Destruction, she has earned only the scorn and fear of her father's kingdom. Content to follow more scholarly pursuits, her whole world is torn apart when her father, the Raja, arranges a wedding of political convenience to quell outside rebellions. Soon Maya becomes the queen of Akaran and wife of Amar. Neither roles are what she expected: As Akaran's queen, she finds her voice and power. As Amar's wife, she finds something else entirely: Compassion. Protection. Desire...

But Akaran has its own secrets -- thousands of locked doors, gardens of glass, and a tree that bears memories instead of fruit. Soon, Maya suspects her life is in danger. Yet who, besides her husband, can she trust? With the fate of the human and Otherworldly realms hanging in the balance, Maya must unravel an ancient mystery that spans reincarnated lives to save those she loves the most. . .including herself.

A lush and vivid story that is steeped in Indian folklore and mythology. The Star-Touched Queen is a novel that no reader will soon forget."

Excerpt:

“I don’t care for the ways of men and demons,” I hissed. “Your
lessons are lost on me.”

What ever darkness my mind had imagined melted. Parrots
singing. Fountains gurgling. The distant voice of a courtier dron-
ing about wars. Sound pushed up between those lost seconds,
blossoming into fi erce murmurs, hushed tones. What had I
imagined? I searched for the tutor’s shadow splayed against the
wall. I waited to see something slinking along the ground, darkness
stretched long and thin over tomes and cracked tiles, but there
was nothing.

“You,” he hissed in an exhale that ended in a whimper. He
backed into a corner. “It’s you. I thought . . .” He gulped down
the rest of his words. He looked lost.

I blinked at him, shaking off the fi nal remnants of that drows-
iness. I felt groggy, but not with sleep. A moment ago, I thought I
had seen horns limned in shadow. I thought something had coursed
through me in defense— a low note of music, the bass of a thun-
derclap, a pleat of light glinting through a bruised storm cloud. But
that couldn’t be right. The person before me was just . . . a person.
And if I had heard him say something else, saw him morph into
something else, it was all distant and the fi ngers of my memory
could do nothing but rummage through images, hold them to the
light and won der if I hadn’t slipped into a waking nightmare.

The tutor trembled. Gone was the blocky fi gure choking out
the light and lecturing me on silence. Or had he said something
else in those lost moments? Something about weakness and de-mons. I couldn’t remember. I clutched a table, my knuckles white.

“I must go,” he said, his face pale, like blood had drained from
him. “I didn’t know. Truly. I didn’t. I thought you were someone
else.”

I stared at him. What did he mean? How could he not know
who I was? Someone must have told him that I was the princess
he would be tutoring this after noon. But I was wasting time. He
was just another tutor scared by a reputation pronounced by far-
away lights in the sky. Curse the stars.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ROSHANI CHOKSHI comes from a small town in Georgia where she collected a Southern
accent, but does not use it unless under duress. She grew up in a blue house with a perpetually
napping bear-dog. At Emory University, she dabbled with journalism, attended some classes in
pajamas, forgot to buy winter boots and majored in 14th century British literature. She spent a
year after graduation working and traveling and writing. After that, she started law school at
the University of Georgia where she's learning a new kind of storytelling. More information on
the author can be found at www.roshanichokshi.com.

Links: Amazon / Barnes and Noble / Goodreads / IndieBound

Blog Tour: In Real Life- Playlist, Excerpt, and Giveaway

Welcome to the next stop in the IN REAL LIFE Blog Tour. Today I'll be sharing with you an excerpt, playlist, a few of my personal thoughts on this novel, and finally, a chance for you to win a copy of your very own. First, let's start with a bit of background information, shall we?

Title: In Real Life
Author: Jessica Love
Published: March 1st 2016 by St. Martin's Press

"Hannah Cho and Nick Cooper have been best friends since 8th grade. They talk for hours on the phone, regularly shower each other with presents, and know everything there is to know about one another.

There's just one problem: Hannah and Nick have never actually met.

Hannah has spent her entire life doing what she's supposed to, but when her senior year spring break plans get ruined by a rule-breaker, she decides to break a rule or two herself. She impulsively decides to road trip to Las Vegas, her older sister and BFF in tow, to surprise Nick and finally declare her more-than-friend feelings for him.

Hannah's surprise romantic gesture backfires when she gets to Vegas and finds out that Nick has been keeping some major secrets. Hannah knows the real Nick can't be that different from the online Nick she knows and loves, but now she only has night in Sin City to figure out what her feelings for Nick really are, all while discovering how life can change when you break the rules every now and then. "

Sounds amazing, right? Now it's time for an excerpt!

CREDIT: In Real Life by Jessica Love; Courtesy of Thomas Dunne Books


My best friend and I have never met.

We talk every day, on the phone or online, and he knows more about me than anyone. Like, deep into my soul. But we’ve never actually seen each other in real life.
Sometimes, when I’m talking to Nick, I wonder how we man- aged to get ourselves into such a bizarre, complicated friendship. At first glance, our relationship probably doesn’t seem all that odd. Like right now, it’s the Friday afternoon that kicks off the spring break of my senior year. I’m lying out next to my pool with my feet dangling in the chilly water, my back flat on concrete, and I’m talking to him on the phone. This is how I spend pretty much every Friday from 3:30 to 4:25-ish, before he goes off to band practice and I have one of my various school or family obligations. Sounds pretty normal.

But the thing is, Nick lives in a different state, 274 miles away. Yes, I looked it up.

“Ghost,” he says, because he never calls me Hannah, “you know I will do anything for my best friend, and this is no exception. I’ll have this girl killed for you without a second thought. Just give me twenty-four hours.”
I laugh as I swish my feet back and forth in the pool. “There’s no need to resort to murder. It’s just a stupid student government trip. I’ll be over it by the end of the week.”

As tempting as it is to plot Aditi Singh’s violent end, the only reason she applied to go to the national leadership conference when it should have been a given that the senior class president (aka me) was going was because I got into UCLA and she didn’t, so a big ol’ middle finger to her. But she can’t see my middle finger, because she’s in Washington, D.C., for spring break and I’m at home with no plans like a big loser.

“Well, if you change your mind,” Nick says, “just let me know. That’s how much our friendship means to me. The code word is ‘Platypus.’ Just say it, and—poof!—I’ll make her disappear.”

I sit up and pull my feet from the pool, crossing them in front of me. “And how can you do that?”

“Hey, I live in Vegas. I have connections to the mob. Everyone here does.”

“You’re a senior in high school, and you live in a tract home in Henderson. You’re not exactly Al Pacino.”

“You don’t know. Everything I’ve told you for the past four years could be a front. I need to have a cover. No one suspects the quiet, nondescript white boy.”

“You’re right. There is a lot I don’t know about you. I mean, there are any number of huge secrets you could be keeping from me.” I say it just because I’m playing along, but it’s not true at all. I’m pretty sure I know
everything there is to know about Nick Cooper.

I know when my sister met his brother at a concert four years ago and they told us we should start talking online, he thought I was one of his brother’s friends playing a joke on him until I e-mailed him a picture. I know in the middle of junior year, he shaved his head when his favorite English teacher started chemo. I know the gravelly scratch of his voice when he wakes up in the middle of the night to answer one of my random “I’m bored, talk to me” phone calls. I know the hole in the sleeve seam of the lucky Rage Against the Machine T-shirt he inherited from his brother, Alex, since I’ve seen so many pictures of it. I know his middle name (Anthony), the date and time he was born (September 24 at 3:58 A.M.), and his favorite color (gray). And he knows more about me than absolutely anyone else, even the über-embarrassing stuff. We’ve IM’d, texted, sent a million pictures, mailed each other packages, video-chatted, and talked on the phone.

We’ve just never been in the same place at the same time.

I don’t think it’s strange to be so close to someone I’ve never met. Yeah, he’s in Nevada and I’m in Southern California, but I talk to him more than to people I’ve been in classes with since kindergarten. I do wish we could go to the movies together or something normal like that, but we watch the same movies at the same time and mock them over video chat, which is pretty much the same thing.
On the other end of the phone, his laugh stops abruptly and his voice changes. “Secrets? What kind of secrets could I have?”

“Who knows!” I try to sound shocked and serious, but I can’t keep a laugh from creeping in. “For all I know, you do have a secret mob life. Do you have some sort of gangster name I’m supposed to call you?”

His voice lightens again when he realizes I’m joking. “Oh yeah. Knuckles Nick. Or, no. Wait. Nick the Click.”

“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. It rhymed. Don’t those names always rhyme?”

“I know nothing about mob names, Nick the Click. But rhyming names do make mobsters seem a bit less murder-y.”

There’s a shuffle, a thump, and a squeak on his end of the phone, and I imagine him collapsing backwards onto his twin bed. “I just hate that you’re still bummed over missing out on the trip.”

“It’s not that I’m bummed, it’s just . . . I followed all the rules, Nick. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. Serving four years as class president means I go on that trip, not Aditi Singh. Onetime vice-presidents don’t get to go! It’s supposed to be my year. She broke the rules, but she got picked. How do you break all the rules and get what you want like that? It isn’t fair.”

“Well, you know what they say. . . .” “Life’s not fair?”

“Well, that, too. But I was thinking rules are made to be broken.”


Playlist
Ah, don't you love it? With the cover and the way the story goes, you definitely want to be able to listen to the playlist, which can be found HERE on Spotify. Songs include ones like What If We Could by Blue October, Edge of Desire by John Mayer, Dizzy by Jimmy Eat World (LOVE this one!), and Anyone's Ghost by The National. There's Lorde, Cold War Kids, Weezer, and just a ton of different, great songs you'll definitely want to listen to when you're reading this book.

Mini Review: I personally loved this novel. I loved the fact that our heroine is Korean (diversity is always a plus), I loved the fact that Hannah's sister and Nick's brother hit it off at a concert and thought their siblings would hit it off as well, and I adored how sweet these two are. Did you know Nick's a Game of Thrones fan? Winter is Coming. I mean, how can you not fall for a guy like him? There's a road trip and Vegas, lovable awkward but wonderful characters, and a great build up to when Hannah and Nick finally meet. Seriously, it's an uber cute book, and I had a blast reading it. I rate this book 4 Stars.

Giveaway: Thanks to the amazing people at St Martin's Press, I am giving away a copy of IN REAL LIFE. All you have to do is fill out the Rafflecopter form below. This giveaway is only open to US participants and ends March 30th.

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Sanctuary Bay Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

You guys, I'm really excited to be a part of this fantastic blog tour. After reading the excerpt, you'll easily see why you need to get your hands on this book (And you might if you win the giveaway). First, for those who haven't heard of SANCTUARY BAY yet...

Title: Sanctuary Bay
Authors: Laura J. Burns & Melinda Metz
Published: January 19th 2016 by St. Martin's Griffin

"In this genre-bending YA thriller, will Sarah Merson's shiny new prep school change her life forever or bring it to a dark and sinister end?

When Sarah Merson receives the opportunity of a lifetime to attend the most elite prep school in the country-Sanctuary Bay Academy-it seems almost too good to be true. But, after years of bouncing from foster home to foster home, escaping to its tranquil setting, nestled deep in Swans Island, couldn't sound more appealing. Swiftly thrown into a world of privilege and secrets, Sarah quickly realizes finding herself noticed by class charmer, Nate, as well as her roommate's dangerously attentive boyfriend, Ethan, are the least of her worries. When her roommate suddenly goes missing, she finds herself in a race against time, not only to find her, but to save herself and discover the dark truth behind Sanctuary Bay's glossy reputation.

In this genre-bending YA thriller, Sanctuary Bay by Laura J. Burns and Melinda Metz, Sarah's new school may seem like an idyllic temple of learning, but as she unearths years of terrifying history and manipulation, she discovers this "school" is something much more sinister. "

Excerpt:

Daddy pressed his finger to his lips, shushing Sarah quiet as he slid the door to the tunnel back on. She wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and pressed her cheek against her arm, trying to pretend she was back in her own room. But it didn’t smell like her room. Even the spicy smell of Daddy’s cologne had faded now that the tunnel was closed. And grayness was all around her. She was almost four, and that was too old to be scared of the dark. But it wasn’t all dark. It was just gray dark.

She tried not to think of monsters crawling toward her. Daddy said there were no monsters. But monsters liked tunnels. They liked little girls.

Sometimes when she was scared she liked to sing the Maggie song. But that was against the rules. She had to be quiet. She had to be still. She had to wait until Daddy or Mommy opened the door and got her.
Thinking about the rules helped. She could almost hear Daddy saying them, as if he was hiding in the tunnel with her. Even though he was way too big. If something bad happens, wait until the room is safe. If you leave the tunnel, put the funny slit- ted door back on. Run fast. Find a lady with kids. Tell her your name is Sarah Merson. Merson. Merson. Merson. Merson. Ask for help.

Her nose started twitching, itching from the thick air. Mak- ing her want to sneeze. But she had to be quiet.

Then she heard Mommy screaming. Mommy never screamed. Were the monsters out there and not in the tunnel?

On hands and knees she started creeping toward the slits of light, heart pounding.

“Kt85L is our property,” a man said. “You had no right!”

Out there. Mommy on her knees facing the hotel room wall. Someone’s legs. A hand reaching down. A silver bird stared at Sarah from a ring on the finger. Stared with a horrible little black eye. The finger pulled the trigger of a gun.

A bang. Her ears filling with bees. Mommy collapsing on the floor. Red spilling out.

Sarah shoved her fingers into her mouth. Quiet. The rule was be quiet.

Shouting. Daddy’s legs running by, out of the room. The bird man chasing. The door banging closed.

Something bad happening.

The room was safe. The bird man was gone. So she had to get out. Mommy was on the floor. Daddy was gone.

She shoved the door and it fell out onto the floor. Near Mommy. Near the red. But the rule was to put the funny door back on. She picked it up and shoved it over the tunnel like Daddy had shown her.
Sarah didn’t want to look at Mommy. She looked out the window instead. The window was always open and there was never a screen. Daddy’s voice came from the hallway, yelling. Screaming.

Another bang.

Sarah pressing her hands over her eyes. Not looking. Not look- ing. Something bad happening.

Daddy was quiet now. Something bad. She had to run fast.

Sarah climbed on the chair under the window. The chair al- ways went under the window. She stuck her legs through the window and jumped down. Now run fast.

She ran fast, looking for a lady with a stroller or a kid her age. A mommy would help her. She would say she was Sarah Merson.

Sarah Merson, and something bad happened.

About The Authors: Laura J. Burns and Melinda Metz have written many books for teens and middle-grade readers, including the Edgar-nominated mystery series Wright and Wong and the YA novels Crave and Sacrifice. They have also written for the TV shows Roswell, 1-800-Missing, and The Dead Zone. Laura lives in New York and Melinda lives in North Carolina, but really they mostly live on email, where they do most of their work together.


Giveaway: Thanks to the fabulous people at St. Martin's Griffin, I am giving away one copy of SANCTUARY BAY to one very lucky winner. This giveaway is only open to US participants and ends 2/29 (Leap year, heeeey). Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

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Firsts Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

Welcome, welcome, to the next stop in the FIRSTS Blog Tour. I'm your host for today, and boy, do I have a lot of fun things planned today. First off, let's get to know FIRSTS a bit more, shall we?

"Seventeen-year-old Mercedes Ayres has an open-door policy when it comes to her bedroom, but only if the guy fulfills a specific criteria: he has to be a virgin. Mercedes lets the boys get their awkward, fumbling first times over with, and all she asks in return is that they give their girlfriends the perfect first time- the kind Mercedes never had herself.

Keeping what goes on in her bedroom a secret has been easy- so far. Her absentee mother isn’t home nearly enough to know about Mercedes’ extracurricular activities, and her uber-religious best friend, Angela, won’t even say the word “sex” until she gets married. But Mercedes doesn’t bank on Angela’s boyfriend finding out about her services and wanting a turn- or on Zach, who likes her for who she is instead of what she can do in bed.

When Mercedes’ perfect system falls apart, she has to find a way to salvage her reputation and figure out where her heart really belongs in the process. Funny, smart, and true-to-life, FIRSTS is a one-of-a-kind young adult novel about growing up. "

FIRSTS: A Novel
By Laurie Elizabeth Flynn
Thomas Dunne Books
Publication Date: January 5, 2015
Hardcover: 9781250075963 / $18.99
eBook: 9781466887329 / $9.99

Now, time for an excerpt!

Tonight, I’m doing Evan Brown’s girlfriend a favor. An awkward, sweaty, fumbling favor. Melanie, or whatever her name is, owes me big time.
Except she’ll never know it.

***


“You’re not staying over,” I say, fastening the robe around my waist. “You’ll get there. Girls care less about that than you think. Especially in the beginning. You can work up to it together.”
He grins. He looks different, more handsome somehow. In the softer light, his pimples aren’t as evident and his jawline seems more pronounced. One day, I think Evan Brown could even be a heartbreaker.
But that day isn’t today.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Eleven p.m. on a Tues- day. “It’s a school night, Evan. Time for you to go. Your mother will wonder where you are.” Or I assume she would. Most mothers do. Not mine, of course.
His grin turns into a frown. “Do I, you know, owe you some- thing? I don’t know how this works . . .” His voice trails off.

“You don’t owe me anything. Just be good to her, okay? Re- member everything we talked about.”

I know he will. He even took notes. Open her car door for her. Bring her flowers, not something generic like roses but her actual favorite flowers. Have dinner reservations in advance, not necessarily somewhere fancy but somewhere meaningful, like where you had your first kiss or where you realized you loved her. Kiss her, not just on her lips but in unexpected places. On the nape of her neck. On her forehead. On her wrist. Push her hair behind her ears gently. Take a picture. She’ll want to remember the night.

I swallow against a lump that has risen up suddenly in my throat. It’s not that Evan is different—he’s a nice guy, a kid who loves his girlfriend and wants to please her. Maybe I’m the one who’s different. Maybe this speech is starting to feel too familiar. I told myself five favors for five deserving virgins. Five was the line I drew in the sand, and I trampled over it like it wasn’t even there. Evan is the tenth, and ten is a line I can’t just trample past.

But I’m certainly not going to get into this with Evan, so I put on a fake smile. I gesture around the room at the chaise lounge and walk-in closet and floor-to-ceiling shoe rack. “Besides, I really don’t need your money. Spend it on Melody.”

He pulls his boxers and pants back on. His movements are more measured, not the bumbling, terrified movements of the Evan Brown who entered my bedroom an hour ago. Even his voice seems deeper, like he came here a boy and is leaving as a man. I suppose that’s not far from the truth. I allow myself a little smile, a real one this time. It’s easy to reaffirm what I do. What happened to Evan in my bedroom will change him, make him into a more consider- ate lover, even a better boyfriend. Moments like these are what made that line in the sand so easy to obliterate.

Moments like these, I could see an eleventh, even though I promised myself that’s not going to happen. I’m starting the second half of senior year with all of my good karma already under my belt.
“I don’t know where you came from, but you saved my life, Mercy. I mean, Mercedes. I don’t know what I would’ve done with- out you.”

“You would’ve ripped five condoms by accident, and you might’ve drowned the girl in saliva. But now, you’re going to nail it. Literally.”

He tugs his shirt over his head. “When Gus told me how you helped him, I didn’t believe it. But he was right—you’re an angel.” He pauses. “But can I ask you—”

I cut him off midsentence. “No, you can’t. Don’t spoil it.” “But you didn’t even let me finish,” he protests.

“Oh, I let you finish,” I say. “The one thing you can do for me is not ask me any questions.”

He nods. “Fair enough.” “Goodnight, Evan,” I say.

“Goodnight, Mercy. Uh, Mercedes.” He gets to my bedroom door and pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“This won’t be awkward at school tomorrow, will it?” he says, looking back at me.

“Of course not,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “It’s not going to be awkward at all, because what happened in this room becomes just a figment of your imagination the second you walk out that door.”

He gives me a tight-lipped smile and pulls the door shut after him. I can see his shoes underneath, can tell he’s lingering there, wondering if he said too much or not enough, not entirely convinced that his secret is safe with me.

But he has nothing to worry about. His secret, like those of nine of his fellow seniors, is safe with me. At Milton High, I’m my own statistic. People fail to see the great equalizer, the one thing the band geeks, the drama nerds, the jocks, and the preppies all have in common.

Me—Mercedes Ayres.

The girl who took their virginity.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laurie Elizabeth Flynn went to school for journalism and later worked as a model, a job that took her overseas to Tokyo, Athens, and Paris. She lives in London, Ontario, with her husband and her Chihuahua.

Giveaway: Thanks to the fabulous people at St. Martin's Griffin, I am giving away one copy of FIRSTS to one very lucky person. This giveaway is open to US participants and ends February 12th (just in time for Valentine's Day!).

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How To Be Brave Blog Tour

How To Be Brave: A Novel
By: E. Katherine Kottaras
St. Martin’s Griffin
Publication Date: November 3, 2015
Hardcover: 9781250072801 / $18.99 USD
eBook: 9781466884670 / $9.99 USD

"An emotional contemporary YA novel about love, loss, and having the courage to chase the life you truly want.

Reeling from her mother's death, Georgia has a choice: become lost in her own pain, or enjoy life right now, while she still can. She decides to start really living for the first time and makes a list of fifteen ways to be brave - all the things she's wanted to do but never had the courage to try. As she begins doing the things she's always been afraid to do - including pursuing her secret crush, she discovers that life doesn't always go according to plan. Sometimes friendships fall apart and love breaks your heart. But once in a while, the right person shows up just when you need them most - and you learn that you're stronger and braver than you ever imagined. "

Excerpt:


This is what it was like:

I didn’t want you to come. I didn’t want you there.
The day before school, the very first year,
we waited in line for my schedule.

They stared. Those in line around us—
the other girls and their moms,
the ones who were my year,
who were never my friends—
They saw how you were big, planetary, next to them.
Next to me.

The girl in pigtails, someone’s sister,
asked: Is there a baby inside?
Her mother, red now, whispered in her ear.

But the girl didn’t mind:
Oh, so she’s fat.

The other girls, the ones who were my year
who were never my friends—they laughed at you, quietly.
At me.

Her mother said she was sorry, so sorry,
And you said: It’s fine. It’s fine.
But it wasn’t.

You squeezed my hand, and then to the girl in pigtails,
you said: I am big, yes. But I am beautiful, too.
And so are you.

Her mother pulled her child away.
She left the line and let us go first.
I didn’t say: You shouldn’t have come.
I didn’t say: I don’t want you here.

But I also didn’t say: I love you.
Or: Thank you for being brave.

Later that night, I cried:
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to face them.
And every year after.

You’d look at me like I was that girl,
and you’d say, as though it were true:
You are possibility and change and beauty.
One day, you will have a life, a beautiful life.
You will shine.

I didn’t see it. I couldn’t see it,
not in myself,
not in you.

Now, it’s not like that anymore.
This is what it’s like:
It’s quiet in our house. Too quiet. Especially tonight. The day before my first day of
senior year.

The A/C hums, the fridge hums, the traffic hums.
I’m standing at my closet door, those old knots churning inside my stomach again.
I don’t want to go tomorrow. I need to talk to her.
Instead, I’ve done what she always did for me the night before the first day of the school
year. I’ve picked out three complete outfits, hung them on my closet door.

It’s a good start, I guess.

Outfit #1: Dark indigo skinny jeans (are they still considered skinny if they’re a size 16?),
drapey black shirt, long gold chain necklace that Liss gave me, and cheap ballet flats that hurt
my feet because they’re way too flat and I hate wearing shoes with no socks.

Outfit #2: Black leggings, dark blue drapey knee- length dress (draping is my thing), gold
hoop earrings that belonged to my mom, and open-toed black sandals, but that would mean a
last-minute half-assed pedicure tonight. A spedicure, if you will.

Outfit #3: A dress my mom bought for me two years ago. The Orange Dress. Well, really
more like coral. With embroidered ribbons etched in angular lines that camouflage my flab.
Knee-length (not too short/not too long). Three-quarter-length sleeves (to hide the sagging). It’s
perfectly retro. And just so beautiful. Especially with this utterly uncomfortable pair of canary-
colored peep-toe pumps that belonged to my mom.

I begged her for the dress. I made her pay the $125 for it. I knew my parents didn’t have
the money, but I couldn’t help crying when I saw myself in the mirror. It fit (it’s a size 14), and I
think she saw how pretty I felt because I did feel pretty for the first time, so she charged it.

But I’ve never worn it.
The day after, she went into the ER, her heart acting up again. She needed another
emergency stent, which meant more dye through her kidneys, which meant dialysis a few weeks
later, which meant the beginning of the end of everything.

I never put it on after that.
It’s just so bright. So unlike everything else I wear.
I could wear it tomorrow.
I could. And if she were here, she would tell me to.
I really need to talk to her.
It’s just so quiet in this house.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

E. Katherine Kottaras is originally from Chicago, but now she writes and teaches in the Los Angeles area. She holds an M.A. in English from the University of California, Irvine and teaches writing and literature at Pasadena City College. She is at her happiest when she is either 1) at the playground with her husband and daughter and their wonderful community of friends, 2) breathing deeply in a full handstand, or 3) writing. She now lives in Los Angeles where she's hard at work on her next book.
Giveaway: Thanks to the amazing people at St. Martin's Press, I am giving away a copy of HOW TO BE BRAVE. This giveaway is only open to US participants and ends 11/30. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

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Blog Tour: The Weight of Feathers (With Giveaway!)

Hey everyone! I'm really excited to be part of THE WEIGHT OF FEATHERS tour. Today, I'll be sharing an excerpt and quote from this novel as well as hosting a giveaway. First, for those who haven't heard of THE WEIGHT OF FEATHERS yet...

"For twenty years, the Palomas and the Corbeaus have been rivals and enemies, locked in an escalating feud for over a generation. Both families make their living as traveling performers in competing shows—the Palomas swimming in mermaid exhibitions, the Corbeaus, former tightrope walkers, performing in the tallest trees they can find.

Lace Paloma may be new to her family’s show, but she knows as well as anyone that the Corbeaus are pure magia negra, black magic from the devil himself. Simply touching one could mean death, and she's been taught from birth to keep away. But when disaster strikes the small town where both families are performing, it’s a Corbeau boy, Cluck, who saves Lace’s life. And his touch immerses her in the world of the Corbeaus, where falling for him could turn his own family against him, and one misstep can be just as dangerous on the ground as it is in the trees.

Beautifully written, and richly imaginative, The Weight of Feathers is an utterly captivating young adult novel by a talented new voice."

Published: September 15th 2015 by Thomas Dunne
Add it on Goodreads

Excerpt: THE WEIGHT OF FEATHERS by Anna-Marie McLemore. Copyright © 2015 by the author and reprinted by permission of Thomas Dunne Books / St. Martin’s Griffin.

The feathers were Lace’s first warning. They showed up between suitcases, in the trunk
of her father’s station wagon, on the handles of came-with-the-car first-aid kits so old the gauze
had yellowed. They snagged on antennas, turning the local stations to static.

Lace’s mother found a feather in with the family’s costumes the day they crossed into
Almendro, a town named for almond fields that once filled the air with the scent of sugary
blossoms and bitter wood. But over the last few decades an adhesive plant had bought out the
farms that could not survive the droughts, and the acres of almonds dwindled to a couple of
orchards on the edge of town.

The wisp of that black feather caught on a cluster of sequins. Lace knew from the set to
her mother’s eyes that she’d throw the whole mermaid tail in a bucket and burn it, elastane and
all.

Lace grabbed the tail and held on. If her mother burned it, it would take Lace and her
great-aunt at least a week to remake it. Tía Lora’s hands were growing stiff, and Lace’s were
new and slow.

Her mother tried to pull the tail from her grip, but Lace balled the fabric in her hands.

“Let go,” her mother warned.

“It’s one feather.” Lace dug in her fingers. “It’s not them.” Lace knew the danger of
touching a Corbeau. Her abuela said she’d be better off petting a rattlesnake. But these feathers
were not the Corbeaus’ skin. They didn’t hold the same poison as a Corbeau’s body.

“It’s cursed,” her mother said. One hard tug, and she won. She threw the costume tail into
a bucket and lit it. The metal pail grew hot as a stove. The fumes off the melting sequins stung
Lace’s throat.

“Did you have to burn the whole thing?” she asked.

“Better safe, mija,” her mother said, wetting down the undergrowth with day-old aguas
frescas so the brush wouldn’t catch.

They could have cleaned the tail, blessed it, stripped away the feather’s touch. Burning it
only gave the Corbeaus more power. Those feathers already had such weight. The fire in the pail
was an admission that, against them, Lace’s family had no guard.

Before Lace was born, the Palomas and the Corbeaus had just been competing acts, two
of the only shows left that bothered with the Central Valley’s smallest towns. Back then it was
just business, not hate. Even now Lace’s family sometimes ended up in the same town with a
band of traveling singers or acrobats, and there were no fights, no blood. Only the wordless
agreement that each of them were there to survive, and no grudges after. Every fall when the
show season ended, Lace’s aunts swapped hot-plate recipes with a trio of trapeze artists. Her
father traded homeschooling lesson plans with a troupe of Georgian folk dancers.

The Corbeaus never traded anything with anyone. They shared nothing, took nothing.

They kept to themselves, only straying from the cheapest motel in town to give one of Lace’s
cousins a black eye, or leave a dead fish at the riverbank. Lace and Martha found the last one, its
eye shining like a wet marble.

Before Lace was born, these were bloodless threats, ways the Corbeaus tried to rattle her
family before their shows. Now every Paloma knew there was nothing the Corbeaus wouldn’t
do.

Lace’s mother watched the elastane threads curl inside a shell of flame. “They’re
coming,” she said.

“Did you think they wouldn’t?” Lace asked. Her mother smiled. “I can hope, can’t I?”

She could hope all she wanted. The Corbeaus wouldn’t give up the crowds that came
with Almendro’s annual festival. So many tourists, all so eager to fill their scrapbooks. That
meant two weeks in Almendro. Two weeks when the younger Paloma men hardened their fists,
and their mothers prayed they didn’t come home with broken ribs.

Lace’s grandmother set the schedule each year, and no one spoke up against Abuela. If
they ever did, she’d pack their bags for them. Lace had watched Abuela cram her cousin Licha’s
things into a suitcase, clearing her perfumes and lipsticks off the motel dresser with one sweep of
her arm. When Lace visited her in Visalia and they went swimming, Licha’s two-piece showed
that her escamas, the birthmarks that branded her a Paloma, had disappeared.

Lace’s mother taught her that those birthmarks kept them safe from the Corbeaus’
feathers. That family was el Diablo on earth, with dark wings strapped to their bodies, French on
their tongues, a sprinkling of gypsy blood. When Lace slept, they went with her, living in
nightmares made of a thousand wings.

Another black feather swirled on a downdraft. Lace watched it spin and fall. It settled in
her hair, its slight weight like a moth’s feet.

Her mother snatched it off Lace’s head. “¡Madre mía!” she cried, and threw it into the
flames.

Lace’s cousins said the Corbeaus grew black feathers right out of their heads, like hair.

She never believed it. It was another rumor that strengthened the Corbeaus’ place in their
nightmares. But the truth, that wind pulled feathers off the wings they wore as costumes, wasn’t
a strong enough warning to keep Paloma children from the woods.

“La magia negra,” her mother said. She always called those feathers black magic.

The fire dimmed to embers. Lace’s mother gave the pail a hard kick. It tumbled down the
bank and into the river, the hot metal hissing and sinking.

“Let them drown,” her mother said, and the last of the rim vanished.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Anna-Marie McLemore was born in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains and grew up in a Mexican-American family. She attended University of Southern California on a Trustee Scholarship. A Lambda Literary Fellow, she has had work featured by the Huntington-USC Institute on California and the West, CRATE Literary Magazine's cratelit, Camera Obscura's Bridge the Gap Series, and The Portland Review. The Weight of Feathers is her first novel.
Giveaway: Thanks to the fabulous people at Thomas Dunne, I am giving away one copy of THE WEIGHT OF FEATHERS. This giveaway is only open to US and CA participants and ends October 3rd. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

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Blog Tour: Dream Things True (With Giveaway)

Title: Dream Things True
Author: Marie Marquardt
Published: September 1st 2015 by St. Martin's Griffin
Goodreads
Source: eARC courtesy of the publisher in exchange for an honest review

"A modern-day Romeo and Juliet story in which a wealthy Southern boy falls in love with an undocumented Mexican girl and together they face perils in their hostile Georgia town.

Evan, a soccer star and the nephew of a conservative Southern Senator, has never wanted for much -- except a functional family. Alma has lived in Georgia since she was two-years-old, excels in school, and has a large, warm Mexican family. Never mind their differences, the two fall in love, and they fall hard. But when ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) begins raids on their town, Alma knows that she needs to tell Evan her secret. There's too much at stake. But how to tell her country-club boyfriend that she’s an undocumented immigrant? That her whole family and most of her friends live in the country without permission. What follows is a beautiful, nuanced, well-paced exploration of the complications of immigration, young love, defying one’s family, and facing a tangled bureaucracy that threatens to completely upend two young lives."

Review: Two things I'm constantly seeking nowadays, in terms of YA novels, are originality and diversity. DREAM THINGS TRUE fits that bill. This is a novel that deals with current issues that will touch many hearts and leave readers wondering how many people must be going through this.

First off, this is a novel about Alma and Evan- two every people with incredibly different backgrounds. While Alma must keep her family and situation a secret, Evan's life is all about fulfilling expectations. Both characters are incredibly flawed yet somehow blend well together into what I can only describe as this sort of awry perfection. Evan lives a life of privileged and as he gets to know Alma, he begins questioning his beliefs and thoughts. His upbringing is nothing like hers. While this is occurring, Alma is dealing with her own struggles, one of which being how to become close to Evan without revealing that she's an undocumented immigrant.

What I loved about the novel is how it explored to very different classes and cultures. The Spanish included in the novel was a nice touch, though I often found myself google translating half of the dialogue (Hablo muy poco espanol- I think that's how you say it.). The writing was also another thing I adored. It felt flawless, so I found myself easily getting into the story and sticking with it. I actually finished this in one day.

Now, the romance itself can be categorized in the insta-love category. It felt all-consuming, which gave me mixed feelings. Typically, I prefer relationships to build, but I also think teenagers are very much all or nothing when it comes to romance. I understood it from that perspective. The downfall is I do think the story line took a backseat to the romance. I would've liked the novel to focus more on Alma's family and situation and slightly less on her relationship with Evan.

Overall, I really enjoyed this novel and recommend it to fans of Simone Elkeles. It's one I won't be forgetting anytime soon. I'm definitely look forward to seeing what the author has in store for us next.

Rating:

3.5 Stars

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marie Marquardt is a Scholar-in-Residence at Emory University's Candler School of Theology and the author of Living Illegal: The Human Face of Unauthorized Immigration. She is widely published on issues of Mexican immigrants in the U.S. South. Marquardt has also worked as an advocate among immigrants in Atlanta. She is a founder and co-chair of El Refugio, a hospitality house near the Stewart Detention Center in Georgia. Dream Things True is Marie's first young adult novel.
From Dream Things True (St. Martin's Griffin) by Marie Marquardt

Evan led her onto the dock, where a dozen people she didn’t know were climbing into ski boats. She watched as all of these strangers, presumably students at her new school, casually distributed themselves into boats.

Do teenagers own boats? Alma wondered. Evan led her onto his boat, where two other people were already rummaging around under the seats for life jackets. An athletic-looking girl with long brown hair threw her one.

“I’m Caroline,” she said, “and that’s Logan.” She motioned toward a short, muscular guy with a shaved head. He had his back to Alma, and was untying ropes from the boat. Hearing his name, he turned and grinned.

“¡Bienvenidos!” he said in terrible, Southern-accented Spanish.

“Just ignore him when he acts like an idiot,” Caroline said. “That’s what I do.”

Evan got behind the wheel and started the engine. Just as he was backing out, an amazingly beautiful girl came running down the dock.

“Evan, hon! Wait for me!” she called out.

The girl reached the edge of the dock and, without hesitating, leapt gracefully across the water and toward the boat. She was wearing nothing but a bright-red string bikini. Her sandy-blond hair bounced and shone like a model’s in a shampoo commercial.

Evan pulled her safely onto the boat, and she collapsed into the passenger seat.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she said to Evan.

“This is Alma,” Evan said, nodding in Alma’s direction. “She’ll be starting at Gilberton next week. And this is Mary Catherine,” he said, grabbing onto the beautiful girl’s shoulder and squeezing hard. “She’s my perpetually late neighbor.”

“But he loves me anyway!” Mary Catherine proclaimed. Then she smiled, revealing perfect teeth to match her perfect body. Were they flirting? Alma felt a tightness in her chest, knowing that she was no competition for this girl.

The engine rumbled, and the boat lurched forward from the dock. Evan grasped Alma’s arm to steady her and then pulled her toward him. “Ready to learn how to drive?”

“You’re mocking me,” she called out above the noise of the engine. “I don’t think you even need a license to drive a boat,” Evan said.

“Plus, no brakes, so we’re safe.”

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he wedged her body in front of his and guided her hand to the throttle. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No.” The wind pressed her back against him, and she felt the heat of his chest through the T-shirt.

“Are you scared?” His lip brushed her ear as he spoke.

“Yes,” she said. Her body was off balance, as if the floor of the boat were shifting under her.

“Get over it,” he replied, lifting her hand gently and placing it on the throttle.

Together, their hands guided the throttle forward. She tried looking across the lake, in the direction that he was steering, but all she noticed was his hand on hers. The floor kept shifting. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be drunk. He slipped out from behind her.

“I’m gonna dig out the skis. Just keep going straight, Alma. It’s easy.”

She grasped the wheel hard to avoid falling back. The boat skittered over the water, and the wind fused Evan’s T-shirt to her practically bare skin. Alma tried hard to ignore the dull ache spreading at the pit of her stomach.

After a few minutes, Evan took the wheel. Caroline and Logan both dived into the water and began to swim fast as Evan tossed a ski rope in their direction.

“This should be entertaining,” he said as they wrestled with their slalom skis.

“Entertaining?” Alma asked. “Yeah, they’ll both show off.” “Are they, uh, a couple?”

“Most of the time. They fight all the time and break up every couple of months.”

Evan shoved the throttle forward and the boat lurched.

“Logan gets bored easily,” he said. “He’s always looking for a rush.” Logan and Caroline both popped out of the water, crisscrossing each other as they leapt and dived over the wake. “So they just break up for fun?”

“Yeah, I think it runs in his blood. Everybody says his dad was the same, back in the day. He stole boats and stuff, just for the hell of it.” He shrugged and continued, “Which is weird, since he’s the sheriff now.” The sheriff. Evan said it like it was nothing, like he was describing the color of Logan’s dad’s car, or his height—not like he knew this man had the power to throw people in jail and keep them there.

Evan gestured toward Logan and Caroline and winced. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Caroline was spinning in rapid circles as Logan did strange contortions with his arm.

Maybe, Alma thought, they were all so used to being around powerful people that they didn’t even notice it anymore. Maybe they never had.

“Come back here, Alma!” Mary Catherine called from the back of the boat. “I can’t hear what y’all are saying and I’m lonely.”

Alma glanced at Evan and shrugged. She made her way back and settled into a bucket seat next to Mary Catherine.

Alma wasn’t sure how to make conversation with Mary Catherine. She seemed so unapproachable—this girl who wore a bikini confidently, like she was hanging in comfy sweats. But within moments, it became clear that Mary
Catherine—or M.C., as Evan called her—was not your typical Southern belle.

“So, when did you and Evan start hooking up?” she asked. For starters, she was excruciatingly blunt.

“Uh, we’re just sort of friends,” Alma replied, shrugging.

“Alma, honey,” she said, “I’ve known that boy forever, and the way he looks at you, he doesn’t wanna be your friend.”

M.C. let out a deep, bellowing howl that sounded like it should come from a balding white guy with a beer gut. Alma was so surprised by M.C.’s laugh that she forgot to be embarrassed.

“OK.” Alma shrugged. “Maybe we’re not exactly friends. But we’re not hooking up.”

“Makes sense,” Mary Catherine responded, sort of talking to herself. “Evan doesn’t really hook up. Plus, I would have known.”

Confused and desperate to change the subject, Alma asked, “So how did you two meet?”

“Meet?” M.C. asked. “We’ve been neighbors for as long as either of us can remember. I mean, we used to play doctor together! I was the doctor. I always made Evan be the nurse.”
Mary Catherine bellowed again.

“So when you and Evan do hook up,” she said, “you can thank me for his gentle, nurturing touch.”

Now Alma was blushing.

“You mean, you and Evan were, uh . . .”

“Together? Lord, no. He’s like a baby brother to me, Alma. I think I went through puberty something like four years before he did.”

Alma and Mary Catherine turned to look at Evan, his perfectly toned arms casually gripping the steering wheel, his broad shoulders gleaming in the sun.

“My baby’s all grown up,” Mary Catherine continued. “Now, he’s what my grandmomma calls a ‘tall drink of water.’ ”

They both laughed, catching Evan’s attention.

“What are you ladies talking about back there?” he asked.

“Nothing that concerns you, Ev, sweetheart,” Mary Catherine re- plied. “You just drive the boat.”

“Not unless Alma gets back up here to finish her driving lesson,” Evan said, reaching his arm out toward her.

Mary Catherine laughed and nudged her out of the seat.

“You heard him,” she called out. “You better get on up there, darlin’, because I’m sure as hell not driving.”

Alma closed her eyes and stood up slowly, her head spinning and her legs quivering.

He took her hand and pulled her body back toward the wheel, and she realized, finally, the meaning of the word “swoon.”



Giveaway: Thanks to the amazing team at St. Martin's Griffin, I am giving away one copy of DREAM THINGS TRUE. This giveaway is only open to US participants and ends September 30th. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

a Rafflecopter giveaway