Showing posts with label Xpresso Book Tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Xpresso Book Tours. Show all posts

Friday, February 9, 2018

"Baby Girl" by C. M. Stunich

Baby Girl
by C. M. Stunich

Baby Girl by C. M. Stunich

Baby Girl by C. M. Stunich is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well. Keep an eye out for my review, coming soon.

He died that night, alone, in the rain, in the dark, the boy that called me baby girl. I was only seventeen; we were going to be together forever.
On his way to pick me up for prom, he swerved. I’ll never know what made him do it, what killed the boy I’d loved my whole life. With roses clutched in his hand, he bled out in icy wetness all alone.
His best friend is here though, and I’m pretty sure he loves me. But after the accident, I left for a year and didn’t look back.
Now I’m back in town and my heart is like shattered glass. Do I pick up the pieces and risk getting cut? And do I let another boy call me baby girl?

“Almost there in your terms or almost there in mine?” I ask and he chuckles again, the warm, low sound sliding across my skin like hot fingertips.
“Forty-five minutes thereabouts,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.  “But we’ll have to venture off the road and into the water again.”  I groan but Phoenix bumps me playfully with his shoulder, scalding me with heat.  “It’s safe out dere, not like at the shop.”  His eyes darken and I can tell he thinks he made a mistake by letting me stay there.  “I’m sorry, Embry—”
I cut him off before he can keep going.
“Please don’t apologize.  The reason I stayed at the shop was to protect you.”
“You protect me?” he grumbles and then he’s licking his lips and glancing away sharply, curling his hands into fists.  “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, getting you dragged into this shit.  I shouldn’t have let you stay there.  It occurred to me, yeah, that they might come looking for me, but not like that.  And I didn’t think they’d recognize you none or even care.  Girls don’t have to show back up as long as they keep dere mouths shut.”
He rubs a hand over his face.
“Do we have a plan for after we get to the cabin?” I ask and Phoenix gives me this … look that I don’t know how to interpret.  My breath catches and I glance away sharply.
“What kinda plan you thinkin’ about?” he asks me, and his voice is so rumbly and low that I feel this tightening in my lower belly, this primal pull that I could almost swear Phoenix is in control of.  He gives a metaphorical tug and my body responds like it’s on a string.
“Not that sort of plan,” I whisper back, touching my fingers absently to my lips.  Phoenix notices and laughs again, that warm easy chuckle that cuts through the night and swirls around me.  “I’m not having sex with you.”
“We’re both naked and wet and aroused and you don’t know think we gonna fuck?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the road and just staring at me with that heavy-lidded gaze of his.  Phoenix’s eyes are the color of starlight through clouds, a soft, muted gray that draws me in even when I don’t want it to.
“I chose him, not you, Phoenix,” I say, and then I hate myself as soon as the words leave my mouth.  My stomach clenches tight, and with the extensive bruises, it hurts.
“I know dat,” he tells me, voice husky and thick.  “But I don’t care.”
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“I highly recommend this story. It’s a classic friends to lovers story, but with a slight twist. I don’t think you will regret reading this one bit. Just be prepared to cry.” ~ K.C. Pipkin
“Beautifully written story of loss, grieve, love and second chances that will have you glued to your kindle and not stop reading until the end.” ~ Kol79
“C.M does an outstanding job creating this world full of Raw emotions and forgiveness that just seeps into your very being. I just absolutely love the characters! They are broken, but manage to find that glimpse of peace to move forward. So much strength and depth. I love it!” ~ reggie367m
“If you have ever wondered what true grief felt like, all you have to do is read this story it was perfectly displayed in C.M's words! I love the gritty Cajun background and how it was prevalent through the whole story, and who doesn't love hot characters and MMA! So well done C.M.!!!!” ~ Stephanie D.
“Love the characters in this book, and the emotional connection between character and reader is absolutely fabulous. Another great book by this author.” ~ A. Muller

About the Author
C. M. Stunich
C. M. Stunich is a self-admitted bibliophile with a love for exotic teas and a whole host of characters who live full time inside the strange, swirling vortex of her thoughts. Some folks might call this crazy, but Caitlin Morgan doesn’t mind – especially considering she has to write biographies in the third person. Oh, and half the host of characters in her head are searing hot bad boys with dirty mouths and skillful hands (among other things). If being crazy means hanging out with them every day, C. M. has decided to have herself committed.
She hates tapioca pudding, loves to binge on cheesy horror movies, and is a slave to many cats. When she’s not vacuuming fur off of her couch, C. M. can be found with her nose buried in a book or her eyes glued to a computer screen. She’s the author of over thirty novels – romance, new adult, fantasy, and young adult included. Please, come and join her inside her crazy. There’s a heck of a lot to do there.
Oh, and Caitlin loves to chat (incessantly), so feel free to email her, send her a Facebook message, or put up smoke signals. She’s already looking forward to it.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win one of five ebook copies of Baby Girl by C. M. Stunich.


Friday, February 2, 2018

"What the Valley Knows" by Heather Christie

What the Valley Knows
by Heather Christie

What the Valley Knows  by Heather Christie

What the Valley Knows by Heather Christie is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for my review, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

Millington Valley is a quintessential small Pennsylvania town: families go back generations. Football rules. Kids drink while adults look the other way. High school is a whirlwind of aspiration and rivalry, friendship and jealousy.
When smart and pretty Molly Hanover moves to town and attracts the attention of the football team’s hero, Wade Thornton - a nice guy with a bad drinking habit - longtime friendships are threatened and a popular cheerleader tries to turn the school against Molly.
The young couple’s future is shattered when Wade, drunk, wrecks his truck and Molly is thrown through the windshield. She wakes from a coma to find her beauty marred and her memory full of holes. As she struggles to heal, she becomes sure that something terrible happened before the accident. And there is somebody in the valley who doesn’t want her to remember.

Book Video

Molly Hanover lifted her chin and the pain was so sharp her head slammed down onto the muddy gravel. Her teeth gashed her tongue and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. She closed her eyes and the thump of her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
This wasn’t happening. She had to get up and find him. She needed to tell him something—something important—and her mother, she had decided she would tell her mother, too. They would help her.
At the edge of the field where she had fallen, a few un-harvested corn stalks jutted skyward. Late autumn grass sprouted in the weedy undergrowth. She lay splayed facedown, her arm twisted behind her back, raw pain searing through her right shoulder.
Where was he?
Again, she tried to raise her head and tiny spurts of light exploded against the darkness. Chilly rain stung her cheek and blurred her vision. Her hair stuck to her neck matted with bits of glass, dirt, and blood. The ground smelled fresh and earthy.
Help, she whispered.
It was hard to concentrate, but she listened carefully and heard the soft ping of rain hitting her nylon jacket.
Stay awake, she warned herself.
Don’t sleep.
She rolled and saw the wet road sparkle in a vehicle’s headlights. Maybe it was a bad dream. But the pain, the pain was real. Hot blood burned through the cut in her cheek.
Her mind raced and the sharp edge of panic pierced her memory. There was a secret, a thing unspeakable.
But it was gone.
Whatever she wanted to tell them had vanished.
Then her world went black.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“A debut novel mixes high school drama, teen romance, and a strong thread of mystery and thriller ... With strong prose and pacing, the pages turn quickly and easily ... the central characters' story has plenty to make it worthwhile, and many readers are sure to feel at home with this intriguing book ... A taut, compelling family tale.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“A drama to pull at your heartstrings. Verdict: What the Valley Knows manages to straddle the line between YA and adult fiction in such a way that both categories of readers will appreciate the richness and high drama of the story.” ~ IndieReader
“I finished this book the night I got it! I could not stop reading and didn't want to put it down. There were twists and turns that I wasn't expecting as well as a sense of 'small town' familiarity - as if it could have all taken place at/around the high school I went to!” ~ brennan
“I loved this book. I had no idea what was going to happen and love that sort of suspense. It is categorized as YA but definitely can pass for a novel for adults. I highly recommend it.” ~ Aimee Nelson
“The author does seamless transformations between the adult and teenagers in the book. I don't want to give anything away, so I will recommend this book, it will keep you guessing and really takes you out of your reality into the lives of these characters.” ~ Gillian Felix

My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.

By Lynda Dickson
In her senior year in a new town, Molly attends a new school, moves into a new house, makes new friends, and even scores a cute new boyfriend. But she must also contend with the school bullies, her mother’s late nights, her guilt over her father’s death, and the creepy landlord who keeps showing up unexpectedly. Then something even worse happens but, before Molly has the chance to tell anyone, she and new boyfriend Wade are injured in a car accident, and Molly loses her memory. The fallout from the accident will tear this young couple apart and affect everyone around them. Can Molly heal both physically and emotionally and get the happy ending she deserves?
The story is told in alternating chapters from the points of view of Molly, her mother Ann, and Wade. The creepy atmosphere warns you that something bad is going to happen. And, when it does, it’s so sad that Molly doesn't feel like she can confide in anyone. However, after the accident, it’s nice to see how Ann, Wade, and her friend Lisa stick by her.
While this book deals with some serious issues, it is at its heart a story of friendship, family, and love, suitable for both teens and adults.
Warnings: coarse language, underage drinking, sexual references, rape (not graphic), drug use, bullying.

About the Author
Heather Christie
Heather Christie grew up in rural Pennsylvania and, at age seventeen, took off for New York City in hopes of becoming a movie star. Flash forward several decades, a couple degrees, a bunch of cats, two kids and one husband later, she’s back in Pennsylvania writing her heart out and chasing dreams again. She loves to read, run, drink tea, and make Sunday dinner.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a signed copy of What the Valley Knows, a 30-inch sterling silver necklace, and a What the Valley Knows mini book charm (US/Canada only).


Monday, January 29, 2018

"Smoke City" by Keith Rosson

Smoke City
by Keith Rosson

Smoke City by Keith Rosson

Smoke City by Keith Rosson is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for my review, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

Marvin Deitz has some serious problems. His mob-connected landlord is strong-arming him out of his storefront. His therapist has concerns about his stability. He’s compelled to volunteer at the local Children’s Hospital even though it breaks his heart every week.
Oh, and he’s also the guilt-ridden reincarnation of Geoffroy Thérage, the French executioner who lit Joan of Arc’s pyre in 1431. He’s just seen a woman on a Los Angeles talk show claiming to be Joan, and absolution seems closer than it’s ever been ... but how will he find her?
When Marvin heads to Los Angeles to locate the woman who may or may not be Joan, he’s picked up hitchhiking by Mike Vale, a self-destructive alcoholic painter traveling to his ex-wife’s funeral. As they move through a California landscape populated with “smokes” (ghostly apparitions that’ve inexplicably begun appearing throughout the southwestern US), each seeks absolution in his own way.
In Smoke City, Keith Rosson continues to blur genre and literary fiction in a way that is in turns surprising, heartfelt, brutal, relentlessly inventive, and entirely his own.

The years bled together. Each waking morning—or afternoon, truth be told, or evening—couched in a familiar bloom of panic. After that, after Vale realized where he was, who he was, came the rest: sickness, fear, assessment of damage, all of it stitched together with the fine red thread of guilt.
Art & Artists had once called him a “relentless avatar of our contemporary, post-nuclear unease.”
He woke to the alarm, studded in fresh bruises. New scabs on his knees and his teeth loose in his mouth. His lack of memory familiar in itself. Sunlight fell in the room in fierce, distinct bands.
He stood shivering in the shower, the water lancing against him while lava, hot and malicious, compressed itself behind his optic nerves. This pulsing thunder in the skull, and moments from the Ace High the night before came to him slowly, like something spied through a fun house mirror. He bent over to pick up a sliver of soap and with his trembling hand batted a rust-dotted razor lying on the rim of the bathtub. The razor slid down the tub, luge-like, and Vale reached down for it, trying not to gag as dark spots burst like stars in his periphery. He stumbled and stepped on the razor. The crack of plastic, and thin threads of blood began to snake toward the drain. It was painless.
“Oh, come on,” he croaked. “Shit’s sake.” He’d smoked nearly two packs of Camels the night before and sounded now like something pulled howling from a crypt. He tried to stand on his other foot to examine the cut and couldn’t manage it. He put his foot back down and stepped on the broken razor again, and now the floor of the tub was awash in an idiot’s Rorschach of red on white. He retched once and shut the water off, resigned to death—or at least collapse—at any second. The towel hanging from the back of the door reeked of mold, and he gagged against it and dropped it to the floor. He left bloody, shambling one-sided footprints to his bedroom.
Apart from the painting hanging above his bed (the sole Mike Vale original still in his possession), the fist-sized hole next to the light switch was the room’s only decoration. There was a dresser pitted with cigarette burns and topped with a constellation of empty beer bottles. An unmade bed ringed with dirty sheets. The alarm clock on the floor. Plastic blinds rattled against the open window.
He dressed slowly and stepped to the kitchen. Flies dive-bombed bottles mounded in the sink, on the counters. The light on the answering machine was blinking. He pressed the Play button, already knowing who it would be—who else called him?—and there was Candice’s voice.
“The only man in the country still using an answering machine,” she said. “Okay. This is me saying hi. Give me a ring when you discover, you know, fire and the wheel.” Her voice then became steeped in a cautious, thoughtful cadence, a measured quality he remembered more clearly from their marriage. “Richard and I should be heading up through there on tour for another Janey book soon. It’d be good to touch base, get dinner. Call me.”
It was September, the last gasp of summer. The apartment was explosive with trapped heat. A swath of sunlight fell across the countertop. Just looking at that glare hurt his eyes, his entire body, made him feel as if rancid dishwater was shooting straight into his guts. A nameless sadness, the sadness, the exact opposite of the Moment and so much more insistent, tore through him like a torrent. Like a rip of lightning, there and gone, and Vale sobbed. Just once. One ragged, graceless gasp. Pathetic. He stood sweating over the answering machine, ashamed of himself.
He was out the door five minutes later, blood wetting his sock, cold coffee and aspirin hammering a bitter waltz somewhere below his heart.
Time had once called him “a shaman of America’s apocalyptic incantations, one who catalogs our fears and thrusts them back at us in a ferocious Day-Glo palette.”
On his way to the bus stop Mike Vale, the shaman, the avatar—looking down in his shirt pocket for a cigarette—ran directly into a telephone pole, hard enough to give himself a nosebleed.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“Rosson is a talent to be watched.” ~ Jason Heller, NPR
“A brilliantly haunting tale of forgiveness and redemption even in the face of abject failure ... Depravity and grace meet in a powerful, profound, and lavish banquet for the soul.” ~ Foreword Reviews (starred review)
“Rosson's talent is staggering, his craft is meticulous, and his story is one of the quirkiest, but most heartfelt I have ever read.” ~ Dianah Hughley, Bookseller, Powell's
“A surreal road novel about misfits on a journey to Southern California ... An offbeat, strangely satisfying adventure through a land of (literal) ghosts.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“[A] story about hope, about love and about the essential decency of people ... hugely satisfying ... the literary quality of Keith Rosson’s writing is truly remarkable and, at times, quite breathtakingly beautiful.” ~ Linda Hepworth, Nudge-Book Magazine

My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.

By Lynda Dickson
Mike Vale is a brilliant artist who has fallen from grace into drunken obscurity. When his ex-wife dies suddenly, he feels compelled to travel to Los Angeles for her funeral. He picks up hitchhiker Marvin Deitz, who has been reincarnated and forced to die again and again as penance for executing Joan of Arc. Marvin is due to die again soon and is headed to Los Angeles in a last-ditch effort at redemption. Along the way, they pick up another hitchhiker - the ironically named Casper - a ghost hunter on his way to Los Angeles to make a reality show about “smokes”, the ghostly figures whose appearance in LA is becoming a regular occurrence. When these three lost souls come together, their lives will be changed forever.
The story is told from the points-of-view of Mike in the third person and Marvin in the first person, including entries from the journal he has been keeping over the centuries. Their accounts are interspersed with excerpts from newspaper articles, religious pamphlets, CDC pamphlets, and even a radio interview. The characters are perfectly flawed, and you will come to love each of them. And the way their stories converge is nothing short of amazing. The author sure has a way with words; his descriptions of Mike’s filthy apartment are so real that I am practically gagging right alongside Mike himself. His drunken bouts are also all too real, as are his hangovers.
Full of heartbreak and despair, this tale of friendship, love, and forgiveness is highly original and ultimately uplifting. Brilliant.
Warnings: coarse language, alcohol abuse, drug use.

About the Author
Keith Rosson
Keith Rosson is the author of the novels The Mercy of the Tide (2017, Meerkat Press) and Smoke City (2018, Meerkat Press). His short fiction has appeared in Cream City Review, PANK, Redivider, December, and more. He is an advocate of both public libraries and non-ironic adulation of the cassette tape.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.


Thursday, December 14, 2017

"I’ve Been Looking for You" by Jennifer Dean

I’ve Been Looking for You
by Jennifer Dean

I’ve Been Looking for You by Jennifer Dean

I’ve Been Looking for You by Jennifer Dean is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

Max: The new girl, the sarcastic asshole, the one who avoids getting attached to anyone.
Emily: The golden girl, the rule-abiding rebel, the one who unknowingly craves something more.
When fate brings the two girls together, life seemed to fall into place. Until their future plans are shattered the moment someone leaves drugs inside Max’s school locker.
While Max inevitably loses hope of escaping her new grim reality, Emily struggles to move on without the one she loves most. Especially when she’s the only one determined to find answers. But the closer Emily gets to discovering the truth, the harder it will be to stop her pursuit, even when it leads to dangerous consequences.

Book Video

Portland was the latest victim caught within my father’s nomadic web. A place I already pitied. Why? Because just like the others, no amount of lure would ever be enough. The coastal town of Maine was set up for failure from the moment we crossed the town line.
The only difference this time was when the clock ran out, and it was time to move on to the next unlucky place, I would no longer be forced to begrudgingly follow. My cheeks rose triumphantly at the reminder as I made my way down the hall. I slung my jacket onto my arms, grateful that my ten years of patience had finally reached its reward. Yes, in six months, I would graduate and then finally be free. “Should I make myself scarce by the time you come home with your latest conquest,” my father teased as he appeared from around the corner of the kitchen, curiously following my movement toward the front door.
“What makes you think I’m bringing someone home, tonight,” I said while reaching behind my neck to flip my long, brown locks out from my jacket’s trap.
I held a squinted gaze toward the man, who it felt had become more of a traveling roommate than a father, over the years. He lifted his left hand to scratch the unshaven whiskers that had lazily grown out the past couple of days before his lips rose upward into a crooked know-it-all smirk.
“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure by the time I’m back you’ll be passed out on the couch,” I said looking down toward the beer he held protectively in his right hand before back up to meet his exhausted, hazel eyes with a teasing flick of my eyebrows. The smugness lingered in my risen cheeks as I stepped out of the apartment, pulling the door closed behind me before he could voice any brewing comeback.
I walked across the parking lot, grateful for the windless night as my mind began to drift into the eagerness of my future. I chewed my bottom lip absentmindedly as I danced the line between excitement and fear of the new control I would soon be given. I had pushed down the hope for so long that I wasn’t sure I knew how to welcome it back into my life.
It wasn’t until I heard the small splash of choppy water that I realized how far my feet had been blindly exploring the streets of Portland. I looked up with intrigue to see the part of town I had ventured into, nodding as if giving approval while continuing toward one of the empty wooden benches. Each one was held within a spotlight glow, thanks to the bulbous lampposts that were evenly spaced down the boardwalk.
I sighed, taking a seat, as I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out my cheap green, plastic lighter and a newly bought pack of cigarettes. It wasn’t a habit I particularly felt addicted to but an activity that I always welcomingly embraced. A treat that offered occasional release.
I squinted, taking in the barely visible glow of the water in front of me as I swiftly placed a cigarette loosely between my lips, tilting my head habitually before igniting the end. I closed my eyes with my inhale, feeling the tension temporarily slide off my shoulders as the nicotine rushed its way into my blood vessels. At least, that was until the sudden sound of footsteps caused me to snap my eyelids back open and reluctantly abandon my new calm. My lips blew out an exhale of smoke, letting my gaze watch it slowly drift up into the air as if being beckoned by the night sky.
I sighed heavily in hopes the person deciding to disturb my serenity would rethink their approach once they heard the sound that displayed their unwanted presence. Unfortunately, I knew I got the opposite effect when the bench creaked in protest of another body’s weight.
I brought the cigarette back to my lips as I turned my neck to take in the unwanted guest with an impatient glare. It was a cute blonde dressed in brown designer boots, a charcoaled pea coat, and a white, knitted beanie that matched a pair of gloves. Despite my annoyance, it would’ve been a lie to say her long flowing locks, flawless ivory skin, and shapely pink lips weren’t worth the glance. My mouth opened slightly to release another puff of smoke as my lips twisted with amusement at the way the blonde held her nervous gaze toward the ground.
“You know there are about twenty other empty benches to choose from, right?”
My words caused her to lift her chin, along with her gaze to reveal a pair of piercing, ocean blue eyes that involuntarily caused my chest to tighten.
“Can I have one of those?” The blonde asked softly.
I felt a chill run down my spine that wasn’t caused by the cold air as I subtly shook my head to escape the shocked state she had unexpectedly created within me. I held my cigarette loosely between my fingers as my left eyebrow rose once my mind registered her request.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” the blonde politely confirmed.
I tilted my head, watching as she fidgeted uncomfortably with my few seconds of silence.
“You don’t seem like the smoking type.”
“How would you know?” The girl asked with narrowed eyes. “Just a hunch,” I said with a crooked smirk.
“I could smoke all the time, for all you know.”
“Oh yeah,” I said unable to resist a chuckle from my challenging tone as I watched the blonde delicately remove the glove from her right hand.
“Can I have one or not?”
I pinched my lips together to hold back my amusement of her growing temper before pulling another cigarette out from my pack and placing into her waiting hand. Now that she had succeeded, her confidence began to waver, causing her to shift her gaze from her palm over to my lite cigarette with uncertainty.
“Something wrong?” “I don’t have—”
“You mean an experienced smoker like yourself doesn’t have her own lighter?”
I shook my head mockingly before reaching back into my pocket and pulling out my own once again. I flicked my thumb effortlessly, noticing the curiosity of the blonde as I ignited the flame. My attention was drawn into her beautifully tense jaw before up to watch her blue eyes newly focus on the end of the cigarette she had placed cautiously between her lips.
My resistance to hold off a chuckle failed as her attempt to inhale lasted but two seconds before her truth was revealed. Immediately, she began to cough and flail her hands in the air—as if it would help her control her breathing back to normal.
“You alright?”
She nodded between coughs until she caught her breath. “Smoke all the time, huh?” I said smiling with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, so you were right. I’ve never smoked a day in my life.” “Shocker,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
“To be honest, you weren’t too hard to peg, Princess,” I said
turning my head to avoid blowing my exhale of smoke into her face.
“Don’t call me that,” she said defensively.
“Uh-oh,” I said with a fake pout. “Did I strike a nerve, princess?” “You don’t know me,” the blonde said with a glare that was
accompanied by a soft, insecure voice.
I looked up to the sky with a resisted eye roll as I took one last inhale before tossing my cigarette to the ground. My foot moved to stomp over it with a quick routine twist of my shoe before turning my body around to face the blonde squarely.
“Let me guess, you live in a nice big house with Mommy and Daddy who buy you anything you want. Including a closet full of designer clothes,” I paused, slowing eyeing the blonde’s outfit, twitching my eyebrows up in challenge as I met her uneasy stare. “And a nice, shiny new car—you probably got the second you turned sixteen, right?” I winked arrogantly, unable to stop the rise of my unprovoked venom. “You date the most popular boy in school.” I shrugged my shoulders. “But you still find the need to rebel because life just isn’t fair when Daddy makes you have a curfew.”
“You’re an asshole,” the blonde said.
“Tell me it isn’t true,” I challenged, leaning my temple against my left fist.
The blonde rose to her feet, throwing the cigarette angrily to the ground before stomping off into the direction of the distant parking lot. “Say hi to Daddy for me,” I said before leaning over to pick up her
lit leftover and place it between my lips.
Once the silence settled into the air I felt a sting of regret surface from my harsh words. What had the blonde done to get such judgement besides invade my privacy at the wrong time? Perhaps if she would have found me a few hours from now I would have been more inclined to show her my seductive flirty side instead of the asshole version she had encountered.
I shrugged my shoulders with an inhale as I moved to stretch out against the bench, resting my head where the blonde had previously sat. I closed my eyes, ready to take advantage of my solitude only to be met with a familiar pair of ocean blue eyes. I could feel a playful grin rise beyond my lips at the hope of getting to see them again.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]

Praise for the Book
“It was a fastpaced, interesting read, I quite liked and I’m sure I’ll pick up more books of this author.” ~ Cassie May on Goodreads

About the Author
Jennifer Dean
Jennifer was studying History and English at the University of North Texas when she discovered a hidden passion for writing. She has since written two other Young Adult novels, Bound and Blinded. She lives in Seattle, Washington.

Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to a signed, personalized copy of I’ve Been Looking for You by Jennifer Dean.