Showing posts with label Young Adult Contemporary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Young Adult Contemporary. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Copycat by Hannah Jayne Spotlight Tour & Giveaway!!


Title: Copycat
Author: Hannah Jayne
ISBN: 9781492647393
Release Date: July 3, 2018
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

From the author of The Escape, Twisted, and Truly, Madly, Deadly comes a chilling new thriller that asks: what happens if your real life became stranger and deadlier than fiction?
Everyone is dying to read the latest book in the popular Gap Lake mystery series, and Addison is no exception. As the novels biggest fan, she’s thrilled when the infamously reclusive author, R.J. Rosen, contacts her, giving her inside information others would kill for.
Addison’s always dreamed of what it would be like if the books were real…. But then she finds the most popular girl in school dead. Murdered. And realizes that life imitating fiction is more dangerous that she could have imagined. As other terrifying events from the books start happening around her, Addison has to figure out how to write her own ending—and survive the story.


Thanks for checking out my stop of this spotlight tour for Hannah Jayne’s newest YA book, Copycat! If you are into YA Mysteries, then Hannah Jayne is an author to take a look at. Read below for an excerpt of Copycat and to enter to win a copy of her book. (US & Canada only.)


·Praise for Copycat:
“A twisty rollercoaster ride that mixes fiction with reality and truth with misconceptions...lovers of mysteries will certainly enjoy this fast-paced page turner.” —Library Media Connection

“Addie and Maya feel authentic; their charming interpersonal dynamic and the escalating pace of the plot result in a quick read.” —Kirkus

BUY THE BOOK:

About the Author:
Hannah Jayne decided to be an author in the second grade. She couldn’t spell and had terrible ideas, but she kept at it. Many (many) years—and nearly twenty books—later, she gets to live her dream and mainly does it in her pajamas. She lives with her rock-star husband, baby daughter, and their three overweight cats in the San Francisco Bay area. She is always on the lookout for a juicy mystery, an exciting story, or a great adventure.


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Excerpt from Copycat:

One
There was something inordinately creepy about being at school after dark. The place was deserted—the benches and picnic tables in the quad looked ominous and foreboding under the flickering yellow lights. Crystal Lanier shivered and pulled her jacket tighter against an imaginary chill. The weather was mild at Gap Lake in September; the days still sunbaked, the nights, like this one, a gentle mix of fading summer and impending fall. But the bare bones of the deserted campus had put a chill in the air, and shot a blast of cold right through Crystal.
“I’m creeping myself out,” she muttered shifting her books from one arm to the other.
A wisp of wind cut through the quad. Crystal was almost sure she heard someone laughing—a weak, choked giggle, like someone was trying to swallow it down.
“Hello?”
She spun, her long black hair fanning over her shoulders. “Is someone there?” She knew she sounded like every horror movie victim ever, and her heart hammered in her throat as her skin prickled with beads of sweat.
This was Gap Lake, she reminded herself. It was a tiny town where everyone knew everyone else, and nothing bad ever happened. She was thinking that when the shadow approached. When he reached out for her long black hair. She was thinking what a nice, safe place Gap Lake was when he clamped a hand over her mouth. When he strangled her scream and drove the needle straight into her throat.
***
“Addison!”
Addison glanced up and blinked, feeling redness stain her cheeks and ears. She closed the book slowly, looking around at the two dozen sets of eyes staring back at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Lea took two steps forward and held out her hand. Addison cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.
“The book, Addison.”
Reluctantly, Addison handed over the dog-eared book.
“Can I get it back after class, please?” she asked, her voice meek.
***
Maya Garcia hiked her backpack over her shoulders and stepped into the junior hallway. “Okay, how many times has Mrs. Lea taken that thing from you?”
Addison shrugged, falling into step with her best friend. “Let’s see, I’ve read it about fifty-seven times so…fifty-six?”
“You are the biggest, nerdiest R. J. Rosen fan ever.”
“Hey, I’m president of his fan club. It’s mainly research.”
Maya shook her head sadly. “It’s borderline obsessive.”
“Who you calling borderline?” Addison flashed a wide grin. “It’s not entirely my fault. Rosen needs to write faster. If he could keep up with the public’s rabid love for the Gap Lake mysteries, I wouldn’t need to constantly reread—”
“And reread and reread. And write massive amounts of fan fiction.”
Addison rolled her eyes.
“Don’t get me wrong, Adds. I love the books too, but you’re a teenager. You need a more destructive hobby to fit in.”
Addison nodded sagely. “I see where you’re coming from. What do you suggest?”
“Drinking, drugs, reckless driving.”
“First of all, to drive recklessly, I’d have to drive, which I will not. And as for the other stuff, what am I? A stereotype?”
Maya narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I feel like you’re not taking me seriously.”
Addison stopped at locker 221 and spun the lock, pulling open the metal door. “I like to read. So what?”
Maya yanked a handful of books out of Addison’s locker before dumping them back in again. “So, you should shelve a few hundred of these books and live in the here and now with the rest of us who have boyfriends who don’t live only on paper.”
“Number one, have you read the first Gap Lake book? Not only is Crystal’s boyfriend, Declan Levy, not a one-dimensional paper product, he may or may not be responsible for her murder—I vote not. But if that doesn’t make a rounded character, I don’t know what does.”
“Character,” Maya enunciated. “That’s the magic word. A character is not a real person.”
“And speaking of not real people, who’s this boyfriend of yours you seem to be referring to?”
A fierce blush crept across Maya’s olive cheeks. “I didn’t say that I had a boyfriend. But there are possibilities. Men in the wings. Plans afoot and so forth and…stuff.”
“‘Plans afoot’? ‘So forth and stuff’? Who are you?”
Maya put her hands on her hips. “I’m your best friend, Addie. Remember me? I’m not a mystery novel, but I’m pretty damn fantastic if I say so myself.”
Addie pulled the book back. She gave it a quick kiss, before stashing the book in her backpack.
Maya gaped. “Did you just kiss a book? Seriously?”
“It’s my lifeblood.”
Maya cocked an eyebrow and Addie shrugged.
“Okay, so it’s research.”
“Tell me you still want to be a writer and haven’t decided on serial killing as a career goal.”
“According to my father, the latter pays better.”
“How is the wolf of Wall Street?”
Addie blew out a sigh. “Buying low, selling high, still wishing his disappointing daughter had a penis or a power tie.”
“Well, I know what to get you for Christmas.” Maya stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t look, but you’re being ogled. Possibly even being fantasized about in weird and uber-sexual ways.”
Addie immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Now I feel skeevy.”
“I’d pay a thousand bucks if Spencer Cohen was staring at me that way.”
Addie shrugged, trying to play it off like she didn’t care. “You need a life.”
Maya groaned and shook Addie’s arm. “And you need two feet in reality or you’re going to prom with a cardboard cutout.”
“If it’s a cardboard cutout of Declan Levy, sign me up.”
“So you are into serial killers.”
“Declan didn’t do it!”
Maya rolled her eyes. “Declan totally did it. He killed Crystal, then did Andy and Rhodes. It’s textbook. I know because I am the daughter of cops, times two.” She held up two fingers a half inch from Addie’s nose. “He had motive, opportunity—all those other CSI words.”
“That’s what the author wants you to think. And you totally fell for it! You are so R. J. Rosen’s target audience!”
“And you’re his secret side chick.”
Addie snorted. “I prefer biggest fan.”
“Well, it seems like Spencer Cohen is your biggest fan, and he’s coming over here.”
“Hey, Addie.” Spencer grinned, one of those three-point grins that hit his dark-brown eyes, chin dimple, and Crest-white smile.
I’m not in love with Spencer, she told herself. Infatuation. Puppy love, maybe. He’s just so cute…
“Hey, Spencer.”
Maya stepped forward. “Addie was just telling me how much she loves water polo. And dancing.”
Addie blinked. “I was?”
“I play water polo.” Spencer brightened and Addie gritted her teeth. She had been to nearly every one of his matches. True, she was usually up on the last bleacher with her nose in a book, but she watched whenever Spencer was in the pool. He never even noticed her.
“Yeah,” she said with a slow nod. “I’ve seen. I mean I know. I know because I’ve seen you. Not in a weird way, like in a fan way. Not, like, a weird mega fan or anything but, like, a Hornets fan. You know.” Addie fisted her hand and punched at the air. “Go team!”
Maya threaded her arm though Addie’s and gave it a yank. “We have to go.”
“Why did you do that?” Addie hissed once they were out of earshot. “Spencer and I were having a conversation.”
“Have you ever heard the term dead in the water? Because that’s what you were. ‘Go team’?” She shook her head sadly.
“Did I sound that bad?”
“Yes, yes you did.”
Addie sighed. “See? That’s why I should stick to guys on paper.”
“Oh honey,” Maya slid an arm over Addie’s shoulders. “At this point I don’t even think your book boyfriend would talk to you.”



*****************

Rafflecopter Giveaway Link for 2 Copies of Copycat

Runs July 3rd-31st (US & Canada only)

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Thursday, June 7, 2018

All The Little Lights by Jamie McGuire Feature & Giveaway!!!



Thanks for checking out my stop for the All the Little Lights by Jamie McGuire Feature. When I found out that Jamie McGuire was releasing a new book, I was very excited to find out what it was about. I loved her Beautiful series as well as The Maddox Brothers series. And this new book does not disappoint! Down below you will find a message from Elliott (one of the characters in the book), a little sneak peek, AND a giveaway!! 
Happy Reading 😀.



Message from Elliott 

My name is Elliott. You don’t know my story yet, but you will. I spent my summers with my aunt and uncle just down the street from Catherine. She lives in a looming, rickety bed and breakfast called the Juniper, and spends most of her time outside, away from the memories that live between the Juniper’s walls amidst more tangible dangers that I never knew existed until now.

It’s not so much that I fell in love or even that I fought for it, but that a war is waging inside Catherine’s home—one I can’t fight for her. It doesn’t matter how strong I am, or how determined I am to stay. I can only get close enough to observe her pain in detail. And, so I stay, and wait, and help her the only way I know how; to do what I couldn’t for her before.

I hope you’ll understand.

Excerpt: All the Little Lights by Jamie McGuire

Elliott began to speak, but a small group of girls approached our table. 

“Aw,” Presley said, dramatically touching her chest. “Catherine got herself a boyfriend. I feel so bad that all this time we thought you were lying about him being from out of town.” 

Three carbon copies of Presley—Tara and Tatum Martin and Brie Burns—all giggled and tossed their bleached-blonde tresses. Tara and Tatum were identical twins, but they all strived to look like Presley. 

“Maybe just outside of town,” Brie said. “Like a reservation, maybe?” 

“Oklahoma doesn’t have reservations,” I said, appalled by her stupidity. 

“Yeah, they do,” Brie argued. 

“You’re thinking of tribal land,” Elliott said, unfazed.

“I’m Presley,” she said to Elliott, smug. 

I looked away, not wanting to witness their introduction, but Elliott didn’t move or speak, so I turned to see what was holding up their exchange. Elliott offered me a small grin, ignoring Presley’s outstretched hand. 

She made a face and crossed her arms. “Is Brie right? Do you live in White Eagle?” 

Elliott raised an eyebrow. “That’s the headquarters for the Ponca tribe.” 

“And?” Presley sniped. 

Elliott sighed, seeming bored. “I’m Cherokee.” 

“So that’s an Indian, right? Isn’t White Eagle for Indians?” she asked. 

“Just go away, Presley,” I pleaded, worried she would say something even more offensive. 

Excitement sparked in Presley’s eyes. “Wow, Kit-Cat. Are we getting a little big for our britches?” 

I looked up at her, anger blazing in my eyes. “It’s Catherine.” 

Presley led them to a booth across the room, continuing to tease Elliott and me from afar. 

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “They’re just doing it because you’re with me.” 

“Because I’m with you?” 

“They hate me,” I grumbled. 

He turned his spoon upside down and stuck it in his mouth, seeming unaffected. “It’s not hard to see why.” 

I wondered what about my outward appearance made it so obvious. Maybe that’s why the town hadn’t stopped blaming Mama and me for my grandparents’ mistakes. Maybe I looked like someone they should hate. 

“Why do you look embarrassed?” he asked. 

“I guess I was hoping you didn’t know about my family and the smelter.” 

“Oh. That. My aunt told me years ago. Is that what you think? That they’re mean to you because of your family history with the town?” 

“Why else?” 

“Catherine.” My name sounded like a soft laugh tumbling from his mouth. “They’re jealous of you.” 

I frowned and shook my head. “What could they possibly be jealous of me for? We barely have two pennies to rub together.” 

“Have you seen yourself?” he asked. 

I blushed and looked down. Only Dad had ever complimented my looks. 

“You’re all the things they’re not.” 

I crossed my arms on the table and watched the warm hue of the corner streetlight blink between the branches of a tree. It was a strange feeling, wanting to hear more and hoping he’d talk about anything else. “What they said doesn’t bother you?” I asked, surprised. 

“It use to.” 

“Now it doesn’t?” 

“My uncle John says people can only make us angry if we let them, and if we let them, we give them power.” 

“That’s pretty profound.” 

“I listen to him sometimes, even though he thinks I don’t.”

“What else does he say?” He didn’t hesitate. “That you either get good at rising above and meeting ignorance with education, or you get really good at being bitter.” 

I smiled. Elliott spoke his uncle’s words with respect. 

“So you just choose not to let what people say get to you?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“How?” I said, leaning in. I was genuinely curious, hoping he would unveil some magical secret that would end the misery Presley and her friends loved invoking in me. 

“Oh, I get angry. It gets old when people feel the need to tell me their great-grandmother was a Cherokee princess, or that stupid joke about if I got my name from the first thing my parents saw after they walked out of a teepee. I can get heated when someone calls me chief, when I see people in headdresses outside of our ceremonies. But my uncle says we should either be compassionate and educate or leave them alone in their ignorance. Besides, there’s too much ignorance in the world to let it all get to me. If I did, all I’d ever feel is anger, and I don’t want to be like my mom.” 

“Is that why you were punching our tree?” 

He looked down, either unwilling or unable to answer the question. 

“A lot bothers me,” I grumbled, sitting back. I glanced at the clones, dressed in cutoff denim shorts and floral blouses, just variations of the same shirt from the same store. 

Dad tried to make sure I had the right clothes and the right backpack, but year after year Mama watched as more of my childhood friends faded away. She began to wonder what we’d done wrong, and then I began to wonder, too. 

The truth was, I hated Presley for hating me. I didn’t have the heart to tell Mama that I would never fit in. I wasn’t vile enough for those small-town, small-minded girls. It took me a long time to figure out that I didn’t really want to, but at fifteen, I sometimes wondered if it was better than being alone. Dad couldn’t be my best friend forever. I took a bite of my sherbet. 

“Stop,” Elliott said. 

“Stop what?” I asked, the cool orangey-goodness melting on my tongue. 

“Looking at them like you wish you were sitting over there. You’re better than that.” 

“We should probably, um . . . we should go.” 

Elliott stood, waiting for me to slide out of the booth. He followed me out, so I wasn’t sure if he noticed Presley and the clones covering their insults and giggles with their hands. 

When he stopped next to the trash can behind their booth, I knew he had. “What are you laughing at?” he asked. 

I tugged on his T-shirt, begging him with my eyes to keep walking. 

Presley rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin, thrilled to be acknowledged. “Just how cute is Kit-Cat with her new boyfriend? It’s precious how you don’t want to hurt her feelings. I mean . . . I have to assume that’s what”—she gestured to us—“this is.” 

Elliott walked over to their table, and the girls’ giggles quieted. He knocked on the wood and sighed. “You know why you’ll never outgrow the need to make others feel like shit so you can feel better, Presley?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, watching him like a snake ready to strike. 

Elliott continued, “Because it’s a temporary high. It never lasts, and you’ll never stop because it’s the only happiness you’ll ever have in your sad, pathetic life that revolves around manicures and highlighting your hair. Your friends? They don’t like you. No one ever will because you don’t like yourself. So every time you give Catherine a hard time, she’ll know. She’ll know why you’re doing it, just like your friends will know. Just like you’ll know that you’re overcompensating. Every time you throw insults Catherine’s way, it’s that much less of a secret.” He made eye contact with each clone and then Presley. “Have the day you deserve.” 

He returned to the door and held it open, gesturing for me to walk through. We navigated the parked cars until we were on the other side of the lot, and headed back toward our neighborhood. The streetlamps were on, the gnats and mosquitoes buzzing beneath the bright bulbs. The quiet made the sounds of our shoes against the pavement more prominent. 

“That was,” I began, searching for the right word, “legendary. I could never tell someone off like that.” 

“Well, I don’t live here, so that makes it easier. And that wasn’t entirely mine.” 

“What do you mean?” “It’s from a scene in Detention Club Musical. Don’t tell me you didn’t watch it when you were little.” 

I stared at him in disbelief, and then laughter erupted from my throat. “The movie that came out when we were eight?” 

“I watched it every day for like a year and a half.” 

I giggled. “Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t catch it.” 

“I’m just glad Presley didn’t. That would have made my monologue much less intimidating.”

******

About The Book
Title: All The Little Lights
Author: Jamie McGuire
Release Date: May 29, 2018

Summary
The first time Elliott Youngblood spots Catherine Calhoun, he’s just a boy with a camera, and he’s never seen a sadder and more beautiful sight. Both Elliott and Catherine feel like outcasts, yet they find an easy friendship with each other. But when Catherine needs him most, Elliott is forced to leave town.
Elliott finally returns, but he and Catherine are now different people. He’s a star high school athlete, and she spends all her free time working at her mother’s mysterious bed-and-breakfast. Catherine hasn’t forgiven Elliott for abandoning her, but he’s determined to win back her friendship…and her heart.
Just when Catherine is ready to fully trust Elliott, he becomes the prime suspect in a local tragedy. Despite the town’s growing suspicions, Catherine clings to her love for Elliott. But a devastating secret that Catherine has buried could destroy whatever chance of happiness they have left.
About the Author

Jamie McGuire is the #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of Walking Disaster, the Maddox Brothers series, the Providence trilogy, and the international bestseller Beautiful Disaster, which paved the way for the new-adult genre. She was the first independent author in history to strike a print deal with retail giant Walmart, and her work has been translated into fifty languages. She lives in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, with her husband, Jeff, and their three children. To learn more about Jamie, visit www.jamiemcguire.com, or follow her on Twitter @JamieMcGuire.

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