Book Blitz: Finding Perfect by Kendra C. Highley with Giveaway

Finding Perfect by Kendra C. Highley
Published by: Entangled Crush
Publication date: September 14th 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult

Synopsis

 

For “Perfect Paige” Westfeld, today is “D” Day. As in, she just got one on her calculus test. With  her dreams of Stanford, her reputation, and her parents’ expectations at stake, Paige needs to  find a way to save face before everything she’s worked for goes up in flames.

 

Ben Franklin (yes, he’s related) is from the wrong side of town, with the wrong clothes and the  wrong kind of life. He also knows an opportunity when he sees one, and he’ll be happy to tutor  Paige—if she makes him into the kind of guy her best friend, the hottest girl in school, will date.

It’s the perfect arrangement. And Paige is determined not even the inconvenient—and utterly imperfect—attraction simmering between her and Ben will ruin it…

 

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Excerpt

 

“So why are we doing this again?” he called.

 

Even though he had no idea what she had in mind for this little stage play, he’d gone along with good humor. Hell, he was even washing her car for real. Which was funny because a clean car was beside the point in this plan.

 

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and all will become crystal clear.”

 

He gave her a long, weird look, then shrugged and went back to work. Paige joined him but spent part of her time focused on the street corner. Any minute now…

 

“Your tires are low,” Ben said, peeking at her around the front bumper. “If you have an air compressor, I could air them up for you.”

 

She propped her fist on her hip. “Does this look like the kind of house that keeps an air compressor on hand?”

 

He made a face, then laughed. “No, this looks like the kind of house where they call the dealership for help.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

They worked in silence until—there! Paige snapped to get his attention just as Zoey turned onto her street. Ben looked at her, and from the startled expression, she knew she was going to have to coach him through every second of this close encounter.

 

She gave him a stern look. “Take off your shirt.”

 

His already flushed face turned a deeper shade of red. “What? No way!”

 

Zoey had pulled up to the curb, and the BMW idled while she dipped out of view, probably to grab her purse. They only had a few seconds, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Paige stalked over to the hose and, under the guise of washing the suds off her car, “accidentally” sprayed Ben right in the chest.

 

His eyes popped wide open as he stared down at his soaked shirt. “Why?” he growled under his breath.

 

“Off,” Paige growled back, then turned to greet Zoey. “Hey! Thanks for letting me borrow your dress for the party next weekend.”

 

Zoey handed her a dress bag, looking at something beyond Paige’s left shoulder. “Yeah, sure.”

Zoey didn’t say anything else, and Paige hazarded a look behind her. As ordered, Ben had stripped off his shirt and oh…my…God.

 

Okay, so she had guessed he had nice shoulders under those T-shirts after all the work at the tire store, and she’d definitely copped a feel when they’d cuddled on the back porch, but she couldn’t have known he was that ripped. He was lean—leaner than most of the football players anyway—but he made the most of what he had, from the tight biceps and defined pecs, right down to the hard, flat stomach and the tantalizing trail of light brown hair running from his navel into the waistband of his shorts…which, oh hell, were riding low on his hips.

 

She didn’t want to blink so she could keep staring. Jesus.

 

Doing a great job of pretending he didn’t notice them hanging on his every move, he reached across the top of the Mustang to soap up the roof. He was a quick study, for sure, stretching in ways that showed off his arms and shoulders. Then he walked over to the bucket and very deliberately bent down to soak the sponge. She might need to sit down. His back was just as good as his front.

 

She’d created a monster. A very hot, slightly wet monster.

 

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AUTHOR BIO

 

Kendra C. Highley lives in north Texas with her husband and two children. She also serves as staff to four self-important cats. This, according to the cats, is her most crucial job. She believes chocolate is a basic human right, running a 10k is harder than it sounds, and that everyone should learn to drive a stick-shift. She loves monsters, vacations, baking and listening to bad electronica.

 

Author Links

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Giveaway

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Book Blitz: Sexy by J.A. Huss with Giveaway

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M9B Friday Reveal: Chapter Reveal - Super Freak by Vanessa Barger with Giveaway #M9BFridayReveals

 

Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!

 

This week, we are revealing CHAPTER ONE of

Super Freak by Vanessa Barger

an MG title presented by Tantrum Books!

 

Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

 

 

Thirteen-year-old Caroline is a freak. Her parents have uprooted her to a town full of Supernaturals. You'd think she'd be thrilled. But, with someone without a magical bone in her body, this daughter of tree sprites feels like even more of an outcast than she has ever before.

 

To make matters worse, her new home is cursed. But when Caroline takes to investigating the mysterious and strange happenings of Harridan House, her BFF goes missing. Seems someone doesn't want Caroline sticking her non-magical nose where it most certainly does not belong. Determined to prove herself, Caroline uncovers a plot to destroy her new hometown.

 

Undeterred, Caroline can't give up. But what's a human without magical powers to do? Caroline better figure it out fast, before she loses everything she has ever loved and the whispers she's heard all her life prove true: Caroline is a useless superfreak.

 

 

Super Freak by Vanessa Barger Publication Date: October 13, 2015 Publisher: Tantrum Books Genre: MG, Fantasy

 

BAM | Chapters | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

 

 

Chapter One Twenty-five feet into town. That’s as far as we got before the first disaster happened. Dad turned onto Main Street, and just as we pulled up next to Greywolfe’s Spells and Supplies, a huge puff of smoke and flame burst from the front doors. Shattered glass and a large, hairy man shot into the path of our over-packed SUV. Dad slammed his foot down on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left, throwing us around the inside of the car. In the back, I covered my head, expecting the piles of wedged boxes to topple over, burying me in an avalanche of dishes and teddy bears. “Caroline! Are you all right?” Mom reached into the back seat, her horn-rimmed glasses dangling from one ear. “I’m good. Did we hit him?” I craned my neck, looking to see out the front window. Dad unbuckled and leapt from the car to help the man who had flown in the road to his feet. “I think he’s fine. You’d think he’d at least have the decency to let out a warning before coming out like that. He could have been killed! We could have been hurt! Dishes might have fallen on you and broken!” I rolled my eyes. The dishes would be a high priority. Mom shook her head, letting loose a shower of tiny green leaves. It always happened when she was stressed. Dryads weren’t really known for their calm temperaments. You’d think, being tree spirits, they’d have that stoic thing going for them. Maybe it was because Mom was a weeping willow, but calm wasn’t really part of her vocabulary. Dad on the other hand, was solid as an oak. Because he was an oak. After unhooking my seatbelt, I slid from the car. Mom followed suit. Her lips compressed into a tight line and she shed another couple handfuls of leaves, but for the moment, she contained herself. Dad stood, tall and wiry, one arm hooked around a large, barrel-chested man with more facial hair than I’d seen in my life. Had to be a werewolf. He pulled away from my dad and brushed at the gravel and purple residue covering his gray suit. “Thank you, Mr. …” The stranger held out one hand to my dad. “George Bennings,” Dad said, shaking the stranger’s hand. “And this is my wife, Grace, and our daughter, Caroline. We just moved here from Lost Creek.” “My name is William Grouseman. I’m thrilled you’ve come to town, but glad you didn’t pull in a few moments sooner.” I wanted to warn him that sarcasm was lost on my parents, but he seemed to get the message when they didn’t share in his chuckle. They exchanged a confused glance and smiled blankly at him. He offered his hand to me and I shook it. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He frowned, looking between my parents and then back at me. Mom’s arm curved around my shoulder, nudging me forward. She sniffed. “She’s just a late bloomer. We’ve got great hopes for her future.” I sighed. She meant well, but it never failed. Supernatural people could sense the paranormal on each other. But when they got to me there was nothing. A void. A great, empty space where everyone expected some sort of natural magic. The supernatural had been the normal since 1978 when an explorer by the name of Albert Merriweather stumbled into a cave in Greece and found Pandora’s Box, and then opened it. Apparently the myths about the box were off a little. Instead of holding all the evils of the world, it held all the magic that had been pulled out of it. Releasing magic out into the world, well, now every person was a little bit paranormal. It didn’t mean everyone could cast a spell or levitate. But everyone had something. Kids were tested in elementary school. The ones with lots of magic were usually the popular crowd. The rest of the population lived with it, picking up what they could, where they could. You could ask to be retested anytime. Sometimes people really did make progress. Except me. I hadn’t just tested low, I’d flunked. So badly they brought in national analysts to make sure there wasn’t someone tampering with the tests. It was a relief really. I mean, my parents were powerful. Who wants to try and beat that? My lack of powers drove my parents batty. Most people figured I was adopted. Two dryads–tree spirits who could change shape, manipulate the natural world, and talk to trees–produced a normal child? Impossible. My parents were convinced I would show signs as I matured. I didn’t have the heart to tell them differently, but I really didn’t think it would ever happen. And that was fine by me. Magic was great–when it worked. Maybe when I turned forty my parents would figure it out. Until then, I’d smile and nod when they gave me their speech about reaching my potential and discovering hidden talents. I met Mr. Grouseman’s chocolate eyes and gave him a weak smile before he turned to my parents. “Ah, well, it happens sometimes. If anyone can draw out her gift, it’s our teaching staff at the school. I’m the principal at Stein Middle School.” His eyes moved from them to me. I wished I were small and hidden under a rock. “You look like you’re about middle-school age. What grade will you be in?” I swallowed. This was not how I planned to meet the school principal. “I’m supposed to start eighth this year.” “I thought so. You’ll love the school. Excellent courses and teachers, and the students are some of the best.” Just like every other school I’d been to. They always said that. It must be in a rulebook principals get when they start their jobs. Luckily, that was the end of his conversation with me. He told my parents where the school was, and what the summer office hours were, then waved at us as he headed back into the shop. Mom raised a tentative finger and cleared her throat. “Are you certain it’s safe to go back in?” Mr. Grouseman loosed a deep peal of laughter. “Of course! My nephew runs the store. What you saw was an accident when a new display tipped over. Have a great day!” I didn’t buy his story, and I didn’t think Mom and Dad did either. But clearly he wasn’t going to share family quarrels with the new people in town. With a shrug, I climbed back into the car, put my cryptogram book away, and watched the town unfold outside my windows. The buildings wound around a central park with huge old-growth trees and the county buildings were the same as they’d been when the town was founded in the seventeenth century. My Dad gave me tidbits about the history of Hecate Bay for the last two weeks, trying to pump up my anticipation. History was one passion Dad and I shared. Spell suppliers, voodoo parlors, psychic readers, and magical bookstores rubbed elbows with Food Lion, florists, and churches. The human and the paranormal had merged and become just like the country–an inseparable mix. We headed for our new house. As we turned away from town, the library caught my attention. A huge stone building that, based on the size, I knew held thousands of books. I started to drool at the prospect. As I watched the people wandering down the street, and we passed another spell shop and magical supply store, my excitement began to fade. I thought about what I’d seen so far, the encounter with my new principal, and the new school year approaching, and my stomach churned with dread. I knew that no matter what, Hecate Bay wasn’t the restful small town my parents told me about. I’d hoped for one of those rare towns populated with only a few magical creatures and big magical talents. This place, well, I could practically taste the magic in the air. I was doomed.

 

 

 

Vanessa Barger was born in West Virginia, and through several moves ended up spending the majority of her life in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She is a graduate of George Mason University and Old Dominion University, and has degrees in Graphic Design, a minor in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, and a Masters in Technology Education. She has had articles published in Altered Arts Magazine, has had some artwork displayed in galleries in Ohio and online, and currently teaches engineering, practical physics, drafting and other technological things to high school students in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. She is a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), the Virginia Writer's Club, and the Hampton Roads Writers. When not writing or teaching, she’s a bookaholic, movie fanatic, and loves to travel. She is married to a fabulous man, and has one cat, who believes Vanessa lives only to open cat food cans, and can often be found baking when she should be editing.

 

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Blog Tour: Seconds Before Sunrise by Shannon Thompson with Giveaway

Seconds Before Sunrise

Book Two in the Timely Death Trilogy 

By Shannon Thompson

 

 

Release Date: August 25th, 2015

Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal

Tour Dates: September 7th - 18th

 

Two nightmares. One memory.

 

"Chaos within destiny. It was the definition of our love."

 

Eric has weeks before his final battle when he's in an accident. Forced to face his human side, he knows he can't survive if he fights alone. But he doesn't want to surrender, even if he becomes the sacrifice for war.

 

Jessica's memory isn't the only thing she's lost. Her desire to find her parents is gone and so is her confidence. But when fate leaves nightmares behind, she decides to find the boy she sees in them, even if it risks her sanity.

 

Seconds Before Sunrise is the exciting sequel to Minutes Before Sunset by Shannon A. Thompson. Find out why readers are enthralled with the Timely Death Trilogy.

 

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Shannon A. Thompson is a twenty-three-year-old author, avid reader, and habitual chatterbox. She was merely sixteen when she was first published, and a lot has happened since then. Thompson's work has appeared in numerous poetry collections and anthologies, and her first installment of The Timely Death Trilogy became Goodreads' Book of the Month.

 

Author Interview

 

Where’s home for you?

The road is home to me. In my 24 years, I’ve lived in six states and moved over a dozen times, so it’s difficult to sit still for long. I’m happiest in new places with new faces and stories to listen to.

 

What’s the most valuable thing you’ve learned?

My dad always used to tell me that no one was worth dating until they were 25. Okay. So that might not be the most valuable thing I’ve learned. But my dad’s pretty awesome. ;) I’m sure he’s the one who taught me my most valuable lesson. He’s definitely supported me in being myself, and I’m not sure where’d I be without his encouragement.

 

What is your most embarrassing moment?

In the fifth grade talent show, my group was doing an umbrella dance. One of the umbrellas got caught in my hair…for the rest of the show…in front of the entire school…and I was the new kid. It took awhile to come back from that and to trust umbrellas again. Now, I only use them for rain. It’s actually raining right now.

 

What’s your favorite line from a book?

“We must strive to be like the moon.” It’s one of my favorite quotes from a memoir by Ishmael Beah, A Long Way Gone.

 

Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

Not in particular. That being said, I did base the physical descriptions of Eric’s and Jonathon’s shade forms—as well as Camille’s half-breed form—on three people I saw in the dreams I based The Timely Death Trilogy off of.

 

Do you have a routine for writing?

My “routine” changes from book to book, but more often than not, it starts with a dreams, moves into a screenplay, unfolds into a novel, and then completes itself upon numerous rewrites and edits. I’ve recently come to conclusion that I am, indeed, a slow writer, but I’m okay with that!

 

Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

Right now, I spend most of my writing time at a local coffee shop in one little corner with a large cup of Americano accompanying me.

 

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing?

I think when a reader emails you at 3 a.m. on a Wednesday because they couldn’t put your book down is one of the best moments, but the best moment is when a reader tells you that your story inspired them, either to start writing themselves or start following another passion. One reader of The Timely Death Trilogy told me it reminded them of why they loved to paint, so they finally started painting again. They thanked me for that, and tears came to my eyes. I just wanted to thank them for reading.

 

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to write?

Hardest? Probably something in college that I didn’t truly want to write. I don’t’ believe writing should ever be forced, but alas, education. In regards to emotional difficultly, I wrote a personal essay about my mother’s death and my college roommate’s death that really took everything in me to put a couple thousand words down.

 

What are you working on now?

I’m currently working on editing November Snow, which was my very first published novel back in 2007, but I took it out of the market almost immediately, so I don’t feel like it got a real chance. I’m working on giving it that chance.

 

This or That

 

Summer or Winter: Winter

City or Country: Country

Coffee or Red Bull: Coffee

TV or Movies: Movies

Kisses or Hugs: Hugs

Bicycle or Motorcycle: Bicycle

Noise or Silence: Silence

Left or Right: Right

Halloween or Christmas: Halloween

Outside or Inside: Inside

Wet or Dry: Wet

Bath or Shower: Shower

 

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