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Synopis: Fans of Sarah Dessen, Stephanie Perkins, and Jenny Han will delight as the fireworks spark and the secrets fly in this delicious summer romance from a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. When Jade decided to spend the summer with her aunt in California, she thought she knew what she was getting into. But nothing could have prepared her for Quentin. Jade hasn't been in suburbia long and even she knows her annoying (and annoyingly cute) next-door neighbor spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E. And when Quentin learns Jade plans to spend her first American summer hiding out reading books, he refuses to be ignored. Sneaking out, staying up, and even a midnight swim, Quentin is determined to give Jade days--and nights--worth remembering. But despite their storybook-perfect romance, every time Jade moves closer, Quentin pulls away. And when rumors of a jilted ex-girlfriend come to light, Jade knows Quentin is hiding a secret--and she's determined to find out what it is. Review: I adored this book! It was such a sweet and interesting story. I liked the parallels. I can’t talk about them because it will give away the storyline, but I will say that it was perfect and well thought-out. I felt bad for what Jade went through on her side of the parallel; it was horrible. Quentin was on the opposite spectrum. He was amazing and as he should be. An amazing character! I loved Jade’s mom! She was so cool and so loving. She wasn’t your typical mom; she was literally a rock star. And though Jade had always lived life on the road, she was more mature than most teenagers and wanted to settle down rather than travel. That doesn’t mean she didn’t make mistakes, because she did. Her aunt was a bit overbearing. That irked me a lot. At the same time, she had never raised a teenager and had her own assumptions on how Jade had been raised. She was mostly wrong. And you know what they say about assuming. Yeah, that’s how I felt about her. Not my favorite character, but she wasn’t bad either. I hope Nicole Williams comes back to this story. It reminds me a bit of Lucy and Jude in Crash. And I don’t think anyone could get enough of them. I know I now want to reread their story. Just as I will probably reread Jade and Quentin’s. 5-Stars! About the Author:
Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time. Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency. Fans of Sarah Dessen, Stephanie Perkins, and Jenny Han will delight as the fireworks spark and the secrets fly in this delicious summer romance from a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. When Jade decided to spend the summer with her aunt in California, she thought she knew what she was getting into. But nothing could have prepared her for Quentin. Jade hasn't been in suburbia long and even she knows her annoying (and annoyingly cute) next-door neighbor spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E. And when Quentin learns Jade plans to spend her first American summer hiding out reading books, he refuses to be ignored. Sneaking out, staying up, and even a midnight swim, Quentin is determined to give Jade days--and nights--worth remembering. But despite their storybook-perfect romance, every time Jade moves closer, Quentin pulls away. And when rumors of a jilted ex-girlfriend come to light, Jade knows Quentin is hiding a secret--and she's determined to find out what it is. Chapter 1 Anything was possible. At least that’s what it felt like. Summer seventeen was going to be one for the record books. I already knew it. I could feel it—from the nervous-excited swirl in my stomach to the buzz in the air around me. This was going to be the summer--my summer. “Last chance to cry uncle or forever hold your peace,” Mom sang beside me in the backseat of the cab we’d caught at the airport. Her hand managed to tighten around mine even more, cutting off the last bit of my circulation. If there was any left. I tried to look the precise amount of unsure before answering. “So long, last chance,” I said, waving out the window. Mom sighed, squeezing my hand harder still. It was starting to go numb now. Summer seventeen might find me one hand short if Mom didn’t ease up on the death grip. She and her band, the Shrinking Violets, were going to be touring internationally after finally hitting it big, but she was moping because this was the first summer we wouldn't be together. Actually, it would be the first time we’d been apart ever. I’d sold her on the idea of me staying in the States with her sister and family by going on about how badly I wanted to experience one summer as a normal, everyday American teenager before graduating from high school. One chance to see what it was like to stay in the same place, with the same people, before I left for college. One last chance to see what life as an American teen was really like. She bought it . . . eventually. She’d have her bandmates and tens of thousands of adoring fans to keep her company—she could do without me for a couple of months. I hoped. It had always been just Mom and me from day one. She had me when she was young—like young young—and even though her boyfriend pretty much bailed before the line turned pink, she’d done just fine on her own. We’d both kind of grown up together, and I knew she’d missed out on a lot by raising me. I wanted this to be a summer for the record books for her, too. One she could really live up, not having to worry about taking care of her teenage daughter. Plus, I wanted to give her a chance to experience what life without me would be like. Soon I’d be off to college somewhere, and I figured easing her into the empty-nester phase was a better approach than going cold turkey. “You packed sunscreen, right?” Mom’s bracelets jingled as she leaned to look out her window, staring at the bright blue sky like it was suspect. “SPF seventy for hot days, fifty for warm days, and thirty for overcast ones.” I toed the trusty duffel resting at my feet.It had traveled the globe with me for the past decade and had the wear to prove it. “That’s my fair-skinned girl.” When Mom looked over at me, the crease between her eyebrows carved deeper with worry. “You might want to check into SPF yourself. You’re not going to be in your mid thirties forever, you know?” Mom groaned. “Don’t remind me. But I’m already beyond SPF’s help at this point. Unless it can help fix a saggy butt and crow’s-feet.” She pinched invisible wrinkles and wiggled her butt against the seat. It was my turn to groan. It was annoying enough that people mistook us for sisters all the time, but it was worse that she could (and did) wear the same jeans as me. There should be some rule that moms aren’t allowed to takes clothes from the closets of their teenage daughters. When the cab turned down Providence Avenue, I felt a sudden streak of panic. Not for myself, but for my mom. Could she survive a summer when I wasn’t at her side, reminding her when the cell phone bill was due or updating her calendar so she knew where to be and when to be there? Would she be okay without me reminding her that fruits and vegetables were part of the food pyramid for a reason and making sure everything was all set backstage? “Hey.” Mom gave me a look, her eyes suggesting she could read my thoughts. “I’ll be okay. I’m a strong, empowered thirty-four-year-old woman.” “Cell phone charger.” I yanked the one dangling from her oversized, metal-studded purse, which I’d wrapped in hot pink tape so it stood out. “I’ve packed you two extras to get you through the summer. When you get down to your last one, make sure to pick up two more so you’re covered—” “Jade, please,” she interrupted. “I’ve only lost a few. It’s not like I’ve misplaced . . .” “Thirty-two phone chargers in the past five years?” When she opened her mouth to protest, I added, “I’ve got the receipts to prove it, too.” Her mouth clamped closed as the cab rolled up to my aunt’s house. “What am I going to do without you?” Mom swallowed, dropping her big black retro sunglasses over her eyes to hide the tears starting to form, to my surprise. I was better at keeping my emotions hidden, so I didn’t dig around in my purse for sunglasses. “Um, I don’t know? Maybe rock a sold-out international tour? Six continents in three months? Fifty concerts in ninety days? That kind of thing?” Mom started to smile. She loved music—writing it, listening to it, playing it—and was a true musician. She hadn’t gotten into it to become famous or make the Top 40 or anything like that; she’d done it because it was who she was. She was the same person playing to a dozen people in a crowded café as she was now, the lead singer of one of the biggest bands in the world playing to an arena of thousands. “Sounds pretty killer. All of those countries. All of that adventure.” Mom’s hand was on the door handle, but it looked more like she was trying to keep the taxi door closed than to open it. “Sure you don’t want to be a part of it?” I smiled thinly back at my mom, her wild brown hair spilling over giant glasses. She had this boundless sense of adventure—always had and always would—so it was hard for her to comprehend how her own offspring could feel any different. “Promise to call me every day and send me pictures?” I said, feeling the driver lingering outside my door with luggage in hand. This was it. Mom exhaled, lifting her pinkie toward me. “Promise.” I curled my pinkie around hers and forced a smile. “Love you, Mom.” Her finger wound around mine as tightly as she had clenched my other hand on the ride here. “Love you no matter what.” Then she shoved her door open and crawled out, but not before I noticed one tiny tear escape her sunglasses. By the time I’d stepped out of the cab, all signs of that tear or any others were gone. Mom did tears as often as she wrote moving love songs. In other words, never. As she dug around in her purse for her wallet to pay the driver, I took a minute to inspect the house in front of me. The last time we’d been here was for Thanksgiving three years ago. Or was it four? I couldn’t remember, but it was long enough to have forgotten how bright white my aunt and uncle’s house was, how the windows glowed from being so clean and the landscaping looked almost fake it was so well kept. It was pretty much the total opposite of the tour buses and extended-stay hotels I’d spent most of my life in. My mother, Meg Abbott, did not do tidy. “Back zipper pocket,” I said as she struggled to find the money in her wallet. “Aha,” she announced, freeing a few bills to hand to the driver, whose patience was wilting. After taking her luggage, she shouldered up beside me. “So the neat-freak thing gets worse with time.” Mom gaped at the walkway leading up to the cobalt-blue front door, where a Davenport nameplate sparkled in the sunlight. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say most of the surfaces I’d eaten off of weren’t as clean as the stretch of concrete in front of me. “Mom . . . ,” I warned, when she shuddered after she roamed to inspect the window boxes bursting with scarlet geraniums. “I’m not being mean,” she replied as we started down the walkway. “I’m appreciating my sister’s and my differences. That’s all.” Right then, the front door whisked open and my aunt seemed to float from it, a measured smile in place, not a single hair out of place. “Appreciating our differences,” Mom muttered under her breath as we moved closer. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the two sisters embraced. Mom had long dark hair and fell just under the average-height bar like me. Aunt Julie, conversely, had light hair she kept swishing above her shoulders, and she was tall and thin. Her eyes were almost as light blue as mine, compared to Mom’s, which were almost as dark as her hair. It wasn’t only their physical differences that set them apart; it was everything. From the way they dressed Mom in some shade of dark, whereas the darkest color I’d ever seen Aunt Julie wear was periwinkle—to their taste in food, Mom was on the spicy end of the spectrum and Aunt Julie was on the mild. Mom stared at Aunt Julie. Aunt Julie stared back at Mom. This went on for twenty-one seconds. I counted. The last stare-down four years ago had gone forty-nine. So this was progress. Finally, Aunt Julie folded her hands together, her rounded nails shining from a fresh manicure. “Hello, Jade. Hello, Megan.” Mom’s back went ramrod straight when Aunt Julie referred to her by her given name. Aunt Julie was eight years older but acted more like her mother than her sister. “How’s it hangin’, Jules?” Aunt Julie’s lips pursed hearing her little sister’s nickname for her. Then she stepped back and motioned inside. “Well?” That was my cue to pick up my luggage and follow after Mom, who was tromping up the front steps. “Are we done already? Really?” she asked, nudging Aunt Julie as she passed. “I’m taking the higher road,” Aunt Julie replied. “What you call taking the higher road I call getting soft in your old age.” Mom hustled through the door after that, like she was afraid Aunt Julie would kick her butt or something. The image of Aunt Julie kicking anything made me giggle to myself. “Jade.” Aunt Julie’s smile was of the real variety this time as she took my duffel from me. “You were a girl the last time we saw you, and look at you now. All grown up.” “Hey, Aunt Julie. Thanks again for letting me spend the summer with you guys,” I said, pausing beside her, not sure whether to hug her or keep moving. A moment of awkwardness passed before she made the decision for me by reaching out and patting my back. I continued on after that. Aunt Julie wasn’t cold or removed; she just showed her affection differently. But I knew she cared about me and my mom. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t pick up the phone on the first ring whenever we did call every few months. She also wouldn’t have immediately said yes when Mom asked her a few months ago if I could spend the summer here. “Let me show you to your room.” She pulled the door shut behind her and led us through the living room. “Paul and I had the guest room redone to make it more fitting for a teenage girl.” “Instead of an eighty-year-old nun who had a thing for quilts and angel figurines?” Mom said, biting at her chipped black nail polish. “I wouldn’t expect someone whose idea of a feng shui living space is kicking the dirty clothes under their bed to appreciate my sense of style,” Aunt Julie fired back, like she’d been anticipating Mom’s dig. I cut in before they could get into it. “You didn’t have to do that, Aunt Julie. The guest room exactly the way it was would have been great.” “Speaking of the saint also known as my brother-in-law, where is Paul?” Mom spun around, moving down the hall backward. “At work.” Aunt Julie stopped outside of a room. “He wanted to be here, but his job’s been crazy lately.” Aunt Julie snatched the porcelain angel Mom had picked up from the hall table. She carefully returned it to the exact same spot, adjusting it a hair after a moment’s consideration. “Where are the twins?” I asked, scanning the hallway for Hannah and Hailey. The last time I’d seen them, they were in preschool but acted like they were in grad school or something. They were nice kids, just kind of freakishly well behaved and brainy. “At Chinese camp,” Aunt Julie answered. “Getting to eat dim sum and make paper dragons?” Mom asked, sounding almost surprised. Aunt Julie sighed. “Learning the Chinese language.” Aunt Julie opened a door and motioned me inside. I’d barely set one foot into the room before my eyes almost crossed from what I found. Holy pink. Hot pink, light pink, glittery pink, Pepto-Bismol pink—every shade, texture, and variety of pink seemed to be represented inside this square of space. “What do you think?” Aunt Julie gushed, moving up beside me with a giant smile. “I love it,” I said, working up a smile. “It’s great. So great. And so . . . pink.” “I know, right?” Aunt Julie practically squealed. I didn’t know she was capable of anything close to that high-pitched. “We hired a designer and everything. I told her you were a girly seventeen-year-old and let her do the rest.” Glancing over at the full-length mirror framed in, you bet, fuchsia rhinestones, I wondered what about me led my aunt to classify me as “girly.” I shopped at vintage thrift stores, lived in faded denim and colors found in nature, not ones manufactured in the land of Oz. I was wearing sneakers, cut-offs, and a flowy olive-colored blouse, pretty much the other end of the spectrum. The last girly thing I’d done was wear makeup on Halloween. I was a zombie. Beside me, Mom was gaping at the room like she’d walked in on a crime scene. A gruesome crime scene. “What the . . . pink?” she edited after I dug an elbow into her. “You shouldn’t have.” I smiled at Aunt Julie when she turned toward me, still beaming. “Yeah, Jules. You really shouldn’t have.” Mom shook her head, flinching when she noticed the furry pink stool tucked beneath the vanity that was resting beneath a huge cotton-candy-pink chandelier. “It’s the first real bedroom this girl’s ever had. Of course I should have. I couldn’t not.” Aunt Julie moved toward the bed, fixing the smallest fold in the comforter. “Jade’s had plenty of bedrooms.” Mom nudged me, glancing at the window. She was giving me an out. She had no idea how much more it would take than a horrendously pink room for me to want to take it. “Oh, please. Harry Potter had a more suitable bedroom in that closet under the stairs than Jade’s ever had. You can’t consider something that either rolls down a highway or is bolted to a hotel floor an appropriate room for a young woman.” Aunt Julie wasn’t in dig mode; she was in honest mode. That put Mom in unleash-the-beast mode. Her face flashed red, but before she could spew whatever comeback she had stewing inside, I cut in front of her. “Aunt Julie, would you mind if Mom and I had a few minutes alone? You know, to say good-bye and everything?” As infrequently as we visited the house on Providence Avenue, I fell into my role of referee like it was second nature. “Of course not. We’ll have lots of time to catch up.” Aunt Julie gave me another pat on the shoulder as she headed for the door. “We’ll have all summer.” She’d just disappeared when her head popped back in the doorway. “Meg, can I get you anything to drink before you have to dash?” “Whiskey,” Mom answered intently. Aunt Julie chuckled like she’d made a joke, continuing down the hall. I dropped my duffel on the pink zebra-striped throw rug. “Mom—” “You grew up seeing the world. Experiencing things most people will never get to in their whole lives.” Her voice was getting louder with every word. “You’ve got a million times the perspective of kids your age. A billion times more compassion and an understanding that the world doesn’t revolve around you. Who is she to make me out to be some inadequate parent when all she cares about is raising obedient, genius robots? She doesn’t know what it was like for me. How hard it was.” “Mom,” I repeated, dropping my hands onto her shoulders as I looked her in the eye. “You did great.” It took a minute for the red to fade from her face, then another for her posture to relax. “You’re great. I just tried not to get in the way too much and screw all that greatness up.” “And if you must know, I’d take any of the hundreds of rooms we’ve shared over this pinktastrophe.” So it was kind of a lie, the littlest of ones. Sure, pink was on my offensive list, but the room was clean and had a door, and I would get to stay in the same place at least for the next few months. After living out of suitcases and overnight bags for most of my life, I was looking forward to discovering what drawer-and-closet living was like. Mom threw her arms around me, pulling me in for one of those final-feeling hugs. Except this time, it kind of wasa final one. Realizing that made me feel like someone had stuffed a tennis ball down my throat. “I love you no matter what,” she whispered into my ear again, the same words she’d sang, said, or on occasion shouted at me. Mom never just said I love you. She had something against those three words on their own. They were too open, too loosely defined, too easy to take back when something went wrong. I love you no matter what had always been her way of telling me she loved me forever and for always. Unconditionally. She said that, before me, she’d never felt that type of love for anyone. What I’d picked up along the way on my own was that I was the only one she felt loved her back in the same way. Squeezing my arms around my mom a little harder, I returned her final kind of hug. “I love you no matter what, too.” About the Author Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.
Reality Gold
by Tiffany Brooks Published by: Dunemere Books Publication date: May 22nd 2018 Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult
Synopsis:
“There are only two ways to survive Internet infamy: drop offline and play dead or give everyone something bigger and better to talk about. I’ve tried the first strategy. Now it’s time to try the second…” A year and a lifetime ago, Riley Ozaki was just an ordinary high school junior in San Francisco, stressing over boys and grades. But an ill-conceived editorial in her school paper brought her an internet avalanche of public-shaming and ruined her life. Now Riley’s on a helicopter dropping into a deserted island with nineteen other teens, to star in a reality show that will be her redemption. She has no other choice. National attention was what got her into this mess, and only the same level of exposure can get her out. Besides, Riley has a few tricks up her sleeve. With a cast of vivid characters who will stop at nothing to win the show, a cursed island setting, and a priceless treasure waiting to be discovered, Reality Gold will drop readers right into a scheming web of lies, love, and betrayal.
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36459774-reality-gold?ac=1&from_search=true
Purchase: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0998499765 B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reality-gold-tiffany-brooks/1127274763?ean=9780998499765
Excerpt:
I kicked off my sneakers and let my toes sink into the soft sand, taking it all in. Sparkling blue water, with a wide band of white beach that sloped up toward the green jungle. Really, it was a perfect and picturesque backdrop—all very Lost, minus the crashed airplane. Supposedly there was a storm on its way, but right now the sky was bright and crisp without any sign of trouble. This was it: the very spot where my godfather, Miles Kroger, had been murdered. You would never have known someone had died a violent death here if this beautiful, serene view was all you had to go on. It wasn’t that I expected to see signs of a crime scene, or even a memorial, but it was a little unsettling that something so savage could have occurred in such a peaceful setting without leaving a mark of some sort. Or maybe my discomfort came from the fact that in some ways it was hard to recognize this as the same place. Two years ago, this beach had been mostly deserted without any man-made structures—just lots of treasure hunting gear piled around a makeshift tent camp. Now it was Disney’d up: Incan-style huts and hammocks, fire pits and torch-lined paths. A giant gold gong glinted from the treeline. The sand seemed whiter, almost glittery. Even the jungle seemed greener, as if it had done nothing but rain since I left. Actually, in a way it had rained, I realized. Money. The whole reason I’d heard about the show in the first place was because Deb had been drumming up investors and my father had been on her hit list. My father: Oz, the Great Wizard of Silicon Valley. Otherwise known as Albert Ozaki, he was the man who could bring any start-up from poverty to profitability—someone whose only disappointing endeavor thus far was, apparently, his daughter. “There had better be a green bandana in that basket for me because there’s no way I’m partnering with those yellow idiots,” Maren said. Everyone who’d jumped off the helicopter was celebrating about a hundred yards away. They were a mass of activity, almost a single unit, hopping and jumping around either in excitement or in an effort to dry off. Maybe both. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet, so it would be awhile before the sun would get hot enough to do any good. I held on tightly to my bag. I didn’t regret staying on the helicopter one bit. “Team Sol!” There were lots of celebratory cheers, some with a taunting edge, as if yellow unquestionably represented the better team and those of us on the green team had already failed the first test. Ha. Little did they know.
Author Bio:
Tiffany Brooks lives in San Francisco with her family and a bunch of pets, who luckily don’t object to being featured on her Instagram. The best thing about living on the west coast is she can find out what happens on Game of Thrones three hours ahead of air time. That, plus not having winter weather, means she’ll never move back east, although that doesn’t stop her New England family from asking when she’ll be moving “back home” to NYC or Connecticut. Reality Gold, her debut novel, kicks off the Shifting Reality Collection, a YA trilogy.
Cascading Petals
by Jane C. Brady Publication date: December 5th 2017 Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Synopsis:
Despite the years of bullying in school, Jewel Hart has remained sweet and kind. She has it all—a great life, a great family, and beauty—but she has never been able to obtain the one thing she wants—to belong. When Jewel meets Kaiden Carter, a good-looking, charming new student at York Mills High, things start to look up. On the surface, he is perfect, but Jewel can’t shake the feeling that everything is not as it seems. When the devastation of the rising suicides in her school hits too close to home and drives Jewel into a deep despair, she clings to Kaiden’s strength to find her way back. Through the pain and fear surrounding her, she finds hope and the will to go on. But just as she picks herself up, tragedy strikes again, threatening to steal her last glimmer of hope. How will she go on? Can she ever find her place in the world?
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36407728-cascading-petals?ac=1&from_search=true
Purchase: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cascading-Petals-Jane-C-Brady-ebook/dp/B077YMMLPN B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cascading-petals-jane-c-brady/1127226558?ean=9781775067634 iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/cascading-petals/id1296049260?mt=11 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/cascading-petals
Review:
I have mixed feelings about this book. Pros: I love the subject manner. I think it’s something that needs to be discussed until our ears bleed. I love how Brady showed two sides of every story. It didn’t excuse the bullies for their behavior in any way, but it did show the whys. Jewel and Kaiden were amazing characters who you couldn’t help falling in love with. Jewel had amazing parents, something the bullies were lacking, which gave her the love and acceptances to a mature into a young woman who knew who she was and wasn’t afraid to show it. Kaiden, meanwhile, once had amazing parents, but after the death of his father, his mother kept to herself. However, because of how he had been raised, he pushed himself past the despair and overcame his losses. Amazing, strong characters. There is a loss in the book that came as a surprise, showing that people who seem okay, aren’t. It made some characters angry, some characters fell apart, and some characters grew from it. Cons: When the subject manner of bullying was brought to someone’s attention, I felt like I was sitting in on a lecture. It felt too practiced and not in the moment. To me, it took away from the book, and I thought those few scenes could have been written more like dialogue and less like a pamphlet on teenage suicide and bullying. There were also some consistency problems that threw the book off. For one, Jewel once being friends with her bully, though that isn’t mentioned until later in the book. Before that, you never knew they were once friends. Overall, I recommend the book to young readers, especially ones who are known bullies.
4 Stars
Author Bio:
Jane lives life to the full because she doesn’t want to wake up twenty years from now regretting all the things she didn’t do. She’s an avid traveler who also loves throwing elaborate dinner parties where she wows her guests with gourmet meals. Jane has a passion for writing, interior design, history, movies, board games, and fitness. In her quest for an exciting life, however, she now draws the line at zip-lining, which she experienced in Costa Rica. Never again! Jane comes from a family of six sisters and lived in a Tennessee plantation house for several years while growing up. She now lives in Western Canada but dreams of owning a vacation home in South Carolina. She lives with her husband (her high school sweetheart), two teenagers, and two dogs. When she grows up, she’d like to be her brilliant sixteen-year-old daughter (minus the mood swings).
The Weekend Bucket List
by Mia Kerick Genre: YA Contemporary Fiction/Coming of Age (LGBTQ) Release Date: April 19th 2018 Duet Books, YA imprint of Interlude
Summary:
High school seniors Cady LaBrie and Cooper Murphy have yet to set one toe out of line—they’ve never stayed out all night or snuck into a movie, never gotten drunk or gone skinny-dipping. But they have each other, forty-eight hours before graduation, and a Weekend Bucket List. There’s a lot riding on this one weekend, especially since Cady and Cooper have yet to admit, much less resolve, their confounding feelings for one another—feelings that prove even more difficult to discern when genial high school dropout Eli Stanley joins their epic adventure. But as the trio ticks through their bucket list, the questions they face shift toward something new: Must friendship play second fiddle to romance? Or can it be the ultimate prize?
For Me, Boyfriends Were the Easier Option by Mia Kerick
I realized by the time I hit high school that having a boyfriend was easier than being a platonic friend. Yup…that’s what I said--it was easier. I could depend on aspects of myself that I didn’t have to think too hard about. See, boys liked my cuteness. My sexy outfits. I didn’t have to worry too much about what I said to them because, at this point in my life, it was almost all about how I appeared. Getting boyfriends was a snap. Being with them was a piece of cake. (Excuse the mixed metaphors.)
Making platonic friends had never been easy for me. My mother told me I was picked on by the neighborhood kids starting when I was just a toddler because I was “so darn sweet.” Yes, her words. My big sister was assigned the Herculean task of looking out for me. On the first day of kindergarten, Heidi Hazelton slapped my face when I didn’t get off the seesaw fast enough for her liking. I’m not sure how she knew she could get away with doing this to me—that I wouldn’t scream or tell a teacher, or maybe hit her back—but it became a trend in my young life. Anne Towne slapped my face for “spacing out” at my McDonalds birthday party in fifth grade. She’d informed me that I was “just so annoying, sitting there wearing that dumb smile.” (Some lines, even when delivered by ten-year-olds, aren’t easily forgotten.) In junior high school, Donna Brezinski constantly swore she’d sit with me at lunch tomorrow, but never kept her promises. Nope, tomorrow never came and so I sat alone. I was the kind of girl who was easy to push around. To make promises to, with no intention of keeping them. I was invisible at best, a victim at worst.
Mom also said the girls were jealous of me because I was pretty, but I knew that wasn’t it. Something about me simply didn’t deserve my friends’ respect. The stuff I said must have stupid and irrelevant, right? On the rare moments they graced me with their presence on the playground, I was too giddy with glee to be taken seriously. I faced it when I was young; I was just not cool.
When trying overly hard to be a friend, I talked too much, or not enough. I giggled hysterically. I blushed at the drop of a hat. It didn’t fly. But it was different with boyfriends. Especially boys who didn’t know me from school, as they had gotten the picture of precisely how uncool I was. Which left boys I met at the mall or the roller skating rink, and sometimes teenage lifeguards from the local beach. I quickly realized that it pretty much didn’t matter what I said, as long as they liked the way I looked. Maybe all boys weren’t like that, but the boys I found behaved that way with me. And my confidence grew—about how I looked. Not about who I was.
I adjusted my personality to each of the boys I dated because I wasn’t sure exactly who I was without them. When I dated Steve Giza, I wore cut-off shorts and black half-tops and was AC/DC’s biggest fan. With Jackie Clark, I morphed into the picture of preppiness. And when in a relationship with each of the three Michaels I dated from the roller skating rink, one after the next, I impersonated a diva, grooving to BeeGees music beneath the glittering Roller Palace disco ball, wearing black, stirrup leggings and a silky pink baseball jacket. Rocking very high hair. Each boy was literally my “other half,” or maybe even “my other three-quarters.” I believed I was just an empty shell without them.
This trend continued into adulthood… even with the man I married. I became a country music fan, because he was. I drank beer out of a bottle as I tapped my foot to Alan Jackson songs. But that wasn’t really me. And thankfully, Mr. Mia was understanding as I grew into the real Mia who can listen to acoustic cover tunes all day on Sirius XM’s Coffee House, and who drinks way too much Pomegranate Arizona Iced Tea. And has a passion for chocolate and her four kids and too many cats. But it was a long time coming.
I adjusted my personality to each of the boys I dated because I wasn’t sure exactly who I was without them. When I dated Steve Giza, I wore cut-off shorts and black half-tops and was AC/DC’s biggest fan. With Jackie Clark, I morphed into the picture of preppiness. And when in a relationship with each of the three Michaels I dated from the roller skating rink, one after the next, I impersonated a diva, grooving to BeeGees music beneath the glittering Roller Palace disco ball, wearing black, stirrup leggings and a silky pink baseball jacket. Rocking very high hair. Each boy was literally my “other half,” or maybe even “my other three-quarters.” I believed I was just an empty shell without them.
This trend continued into adulthood… even with the man I married. I became a country music fan, because he was. I drank beer out of a bottle as I tapped my foot to Alan Jackson songs. But that wasn’t really me. And thankfully, Mr. Mia was understanding as I grew into the real Mia who can listen to acoustic cover tunes all day on Sirius XM’s Coffee House, and who drinks way too much Pomegranate Arizona Iced Tea. And has a passion for chocolate and her four kids and too many cats. But it was a long time coming.
I wish I’d focused more on friendship when I was young. I wish I pushed through the awkwardness, and spoke my mind. Or maybe I should have invested time in finding the right kind of friends. I should have given more consideration to the kids who weren’t on my radar—the quiet kids, the “weird” kids, the nerds. Because I had so few friends as a child and a teen, I missed out on a lot.
Friendship offers opportunity that romance often can’t.
FRIENDSHIP: *can tolerate complete honesty *is dependable, especially in times of trouble *allows you total freedom *calls you out when you are wrong *celebrates your success without reservation *grows stronger with disagreements *is able to forgive and overlook *helps you live longer *makes you want to be a better person To bring this “friends really do matter” essay to a conclusion, I’d like to quote a few wise people who have figured this out.
A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow. ~William Shakespeare
Everybody understands friendship, and friendship is different than love - it's a different kind of love. Friendship has more freedom, more latitude. You don't expect your friend to be as you think your friend should be; you expect your friend just to love you as a friend. ~Carole King Where would you be without friends? The people to pick you up when you need lifting? We come from homes far from perfect, so you end up almost parent and sibling to your friends - your own chosen family. There's nothing like a really loyal, dependable, good friend. Nothing. ~Jennifer Aniston A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself. ~Jim Morrison
About the Author
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject. Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories. Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology. Contact Mia at [email protected]. My Lullaby of You
Can Dreams Come True? by Krysten Lindsay Hager Genre: YA Contemporary Fiction Release Date: March 20th 2018 Clean Reads Summary: Cecily has always had a huge crush on singer Andrew Holiday and she wants to be an actress, so she tags along when her friend auditions for his new video. However, the director isn’t looking for an actress, but rather the girl next door—and so is Andrew. Cecily gets a part in the video and all of Andrew’s attention on the set. Her friend begins to see red and Cecily’s boyfriend is seeing green—as in major jealousy. A misunderstanding leaves Cecily and her boyfriend on the outs and Andrew hopes to pick up the pieces as he’s looking for someone more stable in his life than the models he’s dated. Soon Cecily begins to realize Andrew understands her more than her small-town boyfriend—but can her perfect love match really be her favorite rock star? About the Author: Krysten Lindsay Hager is an obsessive reader and has never met a bookstore she didn’t like. She’s worked as a journalist and humor essayist, and writes for teens, tweens, and adults. She is also the author of the Landry’s True Colors Series (True Colors, Best Friends…Forever?, and the soon to be released, Landry in Like) and her work has been featured in USA Today and named as Amazon’s #1 Hot New Releases in Teen & Young Adult Values and Virtues Fiction and Amazon’s #1 Hot New Releases in Children’s Books on Values. She’s originally from Michigan and has lived in South Dakota, Portugal, and southwestern Ohio. She received her master’s degree from the University of Michigan-Flint.
Sugar Lump
by Megan Gaudino Published by: Evernight Teen Publication date: January 17th 2018 Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult
Synopsis:
Seventeen-year-old travel blogger CC is stuck on a never-ending road trip with her wanderlust-addicted father. When her dad lands the job of his dreams in Sugar Lump—wedding capital of the world—CC finally finds a place to call home. Complete with two quirky best friends and a quixotic guy to crush on, Sugar Lump is more shades of perfect than she can possibly count. But when CC accidentally overhears the mayor complaining that she has to “take out” a rogue employee for not fulfilling the terms of his contract, the idyllic town’s facade crumbles. Devastated by the possibility of having to move yet again, CC discovers everyone has been keeping a massive secret from her—including her own father. Goodreads
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