Posted in Felicia

Feast of Sparks Excerpt Reveal and One Week Countdown!

 

FEAST OF SPARKS (Thornchapel #2) by Sierra Simone
Release Date: August 1st
Cover Designer: Hang Le
Photographer: Regina Wamba

 

Add to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44434266-feast-of-sparks

 

 

PRE-ORDER FEAST OF SPARKS (THORNCHAPEL #2) TODAY!
Amazon US: http://mybook.to/feastofsparks
Amazon INTL: http://mybook.to/feastofsparks
Apple Books: https://sierrasim.one/iSparks
Nook: sierrasim.one/NookSparks
Kobo: sierrasim.one/KoboSparks
Google Play: COMING SOON
Goodreads: sierrasim.one/SparksGR

 

START THE SERIES TODAY WITH
A LESSON IN THORNS (Thornchapel #1)
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2OgiJGp
Amazon INTL: mybook.to/ALIT
B&N: http://bit.ly/2UO1VsN
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2HJxKiI

 

 

Blurb:
I’m an outcast and a loner, named for death itself. Fate wasn’t supposed to have plans for me.

But then she came back—the girl I once kissed in a thorn-covered chapel in the woods. She came back, and I could no more resist her than I could pry out my own heart. And by some trick of fate, she wants me as much as I want her. The only problem? She also wants the man who owns Thornchapel, Auden Guest.

And so do I.

Eight years ago, I did something to Auden, something terrible. He hurt me back the only way he knew how, and so here we are: our hatred seasoned with pain and my loneliness seasoned with longing. The only thing we can agree on is Proserpina Markham, and she wants us to find a way to be together—all three of us.

If Auden wants to earn her as his submissive, then he has to earn me as well.

But with the discovery of bones behind the altar and the carnal revel of Beltane fast approaching, it’s becoming clear that Thornchapel’s secrets are much deeper and older than any of us could have ever guessed. And no matter how bright and merry a feast of sparks may be, it’s always followed by ashes.

And darkness.

 

 

Excerpt:
I can feel that beat, that pulsing, between the three of us so strongly right now, and I know Auden and Poe can too. I know they can feel that what we have together is more than biology, more than our odd little religion, more than years of knowing each other.

Those things we have with the other three in our group.

But this? This holy, ravening, primal, and marrow-deep need for each other? This is something unique to the three of us, and there’s no denying it, no arguing with it.

Fighting it is as pointless as screaming up at a storm on the heath.

Auden reaches down with his other hand; I hear the tear of fabric. The muscles in his arm contract and flex as he works her underneath her skirt. “So wet, little bride,” he purrs. “So ready to be fucked in this little hole.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me forward before I can react, and he guides me to her. Past the tear in her cute librarian tights to the place where she’s wet enough that a man could shove in with a single stroke. My shaft—huge and latex-shiny in the dark—pulses as Auden presses my fingers into her with his own until two of my fingers are curling up inside her and both our hands are wet.

Poe rocks against us both, her hands scrabbling for any kind of purchase until she manages to brace one on the bookshelf behind her and the other on Auden’s shoulder.

“Please, please fuck me,” she begs, and I know at this point she doesn’t care who she’s talking to. Auden or me—or hell, maybe Rebecca or Delphine or Becket.

“Oh, we’re going to,” Auden growls, and I like that we, I like it so much that I couldn’t deny Poe is right about fixing whatever is between the three of us even if I wanted to.

Could I have ever been content without knowing this? Knowing the feel of Auden’s hands on my hips as they are now, guiding me between Proserpina’s waiting thighs as she wraps her arms around my neck? Knowing once again the feel of being between them, as I was that night, of Auden reaching around me and gripping my cock with a casual arrogance that has me shuddering?

He notches my tip against her, his hand moving past me to grip her arse under her skirt, and then he brings us together, like we’re his to join. His pets to breed, his concubines to amuse him. It’s this I’m thinking of as I sink deep into Poe, letting out a long breath as her sweetness grips me, squeezes me.

“How does she feel?” Auden asks in my ear. He sounds bored, but I know that trick for what it is; I know that when his blood gets hot, his voice gets cold. And maybe it’s the thrills dancing up my body from the head of my cock to the soles of my feet, maybe it’s Poe biting her lower lip like she wishes it were my mouth she was nibbling—or maybe it’s the sheer fucking filth of this moment, Auden and me wedging her against the bookshelves in the dark while the others continue to laugh and drink only a stone’s throw away—

Whatever it is, I want to test Auden’s coolness, I want to make him feel for me just a little bit of what I feel for him always—desperate, clawing ache. A pining so animalistic and rough it shames me.

I want him to shame me.

And maybe it’s that last impulse more than anything that makes me do it. I turn my head to his—he’s so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek, so warm in the cool air of the library—and I kiss his throat. Right next to his Adam’s apple, right in the little hollow there. I kiss him and then I part my lips just enough to taste him with a small dart of my tongue. He tastes like clean skin with just the barest hint of sweat, like a man just beginning to get worked up. And he smells—God, he smells how he always smells.

Like this wonderful, terrible place tucked into the wild, wind-whipped moors. Like Thornchapel.

He stills at the touch of my lips, as if he can’t bear to breathe, and then at the flicker of my tongue, he lets out a low sound of fury. For a minute I wonder if he’ll hit me again, and I don’t care how wrong it is, how against the rules of kink, I want to eat up all his passion, all of his energy, I want him to be lost like me and I want to see it and feel it and take it into my body to remember as long as I live.

He doesn’t hit me.

He bites me.

 

 

About the Author:
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.

 

 

Connect w/Sierra Simone:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Simone-497450453680395/?fref=ts
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SierraSimonesLambs
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheSierraSimone
Amazon : http://amzn.to/1PDR4K4
Goodreads : http://bit.ly/1oo9WEh
Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/thesierrasimone/
Website: http://authorsierrasimone.com/

Subscribe to Sierra’s newsletter:
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Posted in Felicia

Interference by Harlow Cole – Excerpt Reveal

INTERFERENCE by Harlow Cole is LIVE and FREE with Kindle Unlimited! This new small town, coming of age, baseball romance is perfect for fans of Dawson’s Creek and Friday Night Lights. Be sure to grab your copy today!

Excerpt

“What’s going on with you, Brayden?” The venom in my tone peeled slowly away. “Why were you sitting in your car in a public parking lot, getting wasted all by yourself?”

He stepped closer to me, backing me up against my door. He smelled like a dark combination of aftershave and booze. He reached a hand up and traced the outside of my cheek with his fingertips, startling me.

He’d touched me a thousand times over the years, but this felt . . . different. His rough skin kept glancing across the softness of mine, branding nerve endings that left my suit of imaginary armor slipped slightly askew. My brain stuttered right past angry, unsure of what emotion to grab hold of next.

“Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?” The animosity laced between his words didn’t match his gentle touch. His fingers danced against the sensitivespot just below my ear. “You’re usually the one reminding me. I’m not your brother.”

I nodded timidly in response. The thing with his finger had disconnected the hardwire between my brain and mouth. I licked my lips. He pressed down harshly on the side of my neck, forcing my eyes to question his. A look of pain washed over his face. His shoulders rose and fell, weighted down by whatever trouble he’d placed there.

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want him to kiss you.”

“What?” My shock forced my voice to rise above a whisper. He was staring at my lips now in a way that made me feel flush all over. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

The pad of his thumb slid over to brush across my bottom lip.

Back. Forth. Back again.

“Thinking about him touching you was eating me alive all night. I couldn’t let him kiss you.”

He didn’t let me process his words. Without warning, he replaced the pressure of his thumb with his lips. He pressed them against mine in a firm kiss that ended too fast. It felt so intense Joey’s rules never came to mind.

“Brayden?” His name came out as a plea of confusion. I needed to speak it out loud to ensure I was really awake. I bit down on my top lip, scraping it across the ridge of my bottom teeth.

He groaned deep in his chest. “I can’t . . . I need to . . .” He didn’t finish the thought.

He took another step forward and smashed his lips back down on mine. I wasn’t even sure it could be called a kiss as much as a total possession of my mouth. His lips fit perfectly. They sandwiched between my own, completing a puzzle that had alwayslonged for its missing piece.

He didn’t play by any of Joey’s rules. He kept his mouth pressed to me while pulling and tugging my bottom lip between both of his. His hands tangled through my hair, holding me in place. He tipped my head back more, giving himself better access.

As his mouth kept moving, so did his body. He shifted forward and pulled me toward him at the same time. My chest molded against his. I moaned into his mouth and tugged the hair at the back of his neck.

He answered by sucking harder against my bottom lip as his hands slid down and palmed both sides of my ass. His lips dragged over to the corner of my mouth as he started murmuring strings of craziness I couldn’t totally understand.

“I knew it . . . God, so sweet.” His hands squeezed me harder as his tongue traced across the very top of my lip.

My breath came out in short little pants. I pulled harder on the back of his neck until he pressed his mouth back fully onto mine.

Rule Six lay in tatters at my feet.

I didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t give a shit about pressure or angles. I just wanted everything. Every single thing he could give me.

Puffy hearts and unicorns.

The whole damn rainbow.

About INTERFERENCE

BRAYDEN

I’m a goddamn prodigy. It’s true. Ask anyone.
I threw my first curveball the day I was born.

The whole damn town is waiting on me.
To live up to my father’s famous name. To reach for the stars.

All I want to reach for is her.

But Ashley is the sweet addiction I can’t afford. She’s my best friend’s sister. Hell, she’s practically my little sister. For years, I’ve protected her from guys that want one thing. What happens now that I’ve turned into one of them? Who’s gonna shield her from the way I was made, from my little white lies and from what I’m about to become?

My game plan sounds simple: Pitch my way into the Major League draft and stay out of Ashley Foster’s pants. That first part may be statistically difficult.

The second feels damn near impossible.

ASHLEY

From the moment we met, I knew he was trouble.
The kind my mother sent me to find.
The type that ruins you for any other brand.

When we were young kids, Didn’t know what to call the frogs and butterflies that danced in my belly whenever Brayden came near. Now I know they have a name.

Those three little words that could heal or destroy him.

Before Brayden, my life was normal. And then it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Ever again.
How was I to know that stealing his seat would change all our lives?

Anger and forgiveness share two halves of the same coin.
Our story might make you choose sides.

Add INTERFERENCE to your Goodreads TBR!

Get your copy of INTERFERENCE today!

 

 

About Harlow Cole

Harlow Cole is a former journalism student, turned techie, turned mother, who finally decided at age forty-plus what she wants to be if she ever she grows up. Her writing journey first began in sixth grade, when she and her best friend penned boy band fanfiction in an old spiral notebook. Harlow is a connoisseur of peanut M&Ms, brand-new school supplies and angst-filled love stories that always end happy. At fifteen, she met her first love. They’ve now been married for twenty years. They reside in suburban Washington, DC, where Harlow moonlights as a taxi driver for their farting beagle and teenage twins. Interference and Stealing Home are her debut novels.

Website | Facebook | Reader Group | Instagram | Twitter | Goodreads

Posted in Felicia

Fallen Star – Excerpt Reveal

FALLEN STAR by Susannah Nix releases March 5th – get a look at an excerpt below and preorder your copy today!

About FALLEN STAR

Available March 5th, 2019

The second he walked through the door, she could tell he was trouble.

Grace knows better than to fall for a Hollywood bad boy like Scott Deacon. An arrogant movie star with a troubled past and a big honking chip on his shoulder? No, thank you. He may be sex on wheels, but beneath the charming facade he’s just another cocky jackass destined to make her job more difficult.

Except…

The more time they spend together, the hotter the fire between them burns. With every flirtatious smile and brush of his hand, she feels her defenses crumbling.

She wants to hate him, but instead she’s in danger of losing all control.

FALLEN STAR releases March 5th – preorder your copy now!

✦Apple Books https://apple.co/2sUEguf
✦B&N http://bit.ly/2sRkmQV
✦Google Play http://bit.ly/2sQKECQ
✦Kobo http://bit.ly/2sS1HEJ

Be sure to follow Susannah on social media to find out when the Amazon preorder goes live!

Add FALLEN STAR to Goodreads now: http://bit.ly/2sRkm3n

 

Read an Excerpt from FALLEN STAR:

Tuesday they were shooting on location in Jackson Square all day. The call time was two hours before dawn, so they could wring every second of sunlight out of the day, and Grace could not stop yawning on the transport van to the location.

“Wakey, wakey,” Scott said, leaning over the back of his seat to shake a plastic tumbler filled with something thick and green and disgusting-looking in front of her face.

“Ugh,” Grace grumbled. “Get that away from me.” She couldn’t help but smile a little though, even through her sleep-deprived crankiness.

An hour later, as the first streaks of light were glimmering in the sky above the river, Scott showed up at the pop-up tent where video village had been set up, and presented Grace with a white paper bag and a tall styrofoam cup from Café du Monde.

“For me?” she asked, perking up considerably. “Did you seriously walk over there and buy me coffee?” He didn’t seem to have gotten anything for anyone else. Just her. Her brain filed this information away to obsess over and analyze later, when he wasn’t standing two feet away grinning at her.

“Café au lait,” Scott said smugly. “And beignets.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. “Did you make one of the PAs do it?”

“As a matter of fact, I did it all by myself. And I had to take a picture with the employees, so I hope you appreciate it.”

“I do!” she said, beaming at him. “You’re officially my favorite person today.”

He blinked at her, his smirk fading into something else entirely. Whatever that expression on his face was, it sent Grace’s stomach tumbling into a free fall. Rather than examine it more closely, she focused her attention on the bag in her hand. Inside was a mountain of powdered sugar, and buried beneath it were three pillowy squares of fried dough. “Don’t inhale while you’re eating those,” Scott warned her.

“Not my first rodeo,” Grace told him, excavating a beignet. “Want one?”

“Noooo.” He held up his hands in a warding gesture. “I’m doing a water cut for that fight scene on Thursday.”

Right. He’d be shirtless, which meant the Abs of Glory would be on full display. Grace found herself looking forward to Thursday with a little more enthusiasm.

“Sucks for you,” she said, giving him a taunting grin as she bit into a beignet.

His eyes homed in on her mouth with laser beam focus. “That’s fine. I’ll just enjoy them vicariously by watching you eat.”

“Does this get you off?” she asked archly and took another bite.

Scott licked his lips. “Not gonna lie, it kind of does.”

Grace couldn’t help laughing at his retriever-staring-down-a-dog-treat expression, which led her to make the fatal mistake of inhaling with the beignet in front of her mouth. Coughing sugar out of her lungs, she clapped a hand over her mouth as a cloud of fine white powder billowed out in front of her.

Scott sidestepped the powdered sugar typhoon and patted her on the back, chuckling. “Told you not to inhale.”

About Susannah Nix

Susannah Nix is the author of quirky contemporary romances about smart women and swoony men, including the Chemistry Lessons series of romcoms featuring STEM heroines and the Starstruck series of movie star romances. She lives in Texas with her husband, two ornery cats, and a flatulent pit bull. ​

When she’s not writing, Susannah enjoys reading, cooking, knitting, watching too much television, and getting distracted by Tumblr. She is also a powerlifter who can deadlift as much as Captain America weighs.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | BookBub | Instagram | Goodreads | Pinterest

Posted in Felicia

Only a Breath Apart Excerpt Reveal


Anyone who knows me knows that I’m obsessed with contemporary books and that one of my absolute favorites is Katie McGarry. I requested an ARC as soon as I saw it available and then waited patiently to find out if I was going to be able to read it early or not. I may have screamed a little when the email came up on my phone and I saw the approval email.

I’m even more excited that I get to be part of the tour and excerpt reveal for Only a Breath Apart. I got to meet Katie McGarry several months ago when she was in Ohio and I loved listening to her talk about her inspiration behind all her books and all the research and work she puts into all of them.

Would you dare to defy destiny? Are our destinies written in stone? Do we become nothing more than the self-fulfilling prophesies of other people’s opinions? Or can we dare to become who we believe we were born to be?

 

“A gorgeous, heartfelt journey of redemption and love” (Wendy Higgins), ONLY A BREATH APART is a young adult contemporary novel from critically acclaimed Katie McGarry. “Haunting, authentic, and ultimately hopeful” (Tammara Webber), ONLY A BREATH APART will be available on all retailers on January 22, 2019!

About ONLY A BREATH APART:

Jesse dreams of working the land that’s been in his family forever. But he’s cursed to lose everything he loves most.

Scarlett is desperate to escape her “charmed” life. But leaving a small town is easier said than done.

Despite their history of heartbreak, when Jesse sees a way they can work together to each get what they want, Scarlett can’t say no.Each midnight meeting between Jesse and Scarlett will push them to confront their secrets and their feelings for each other.

 

Amazon | Kobo | Google Play | B-A-M | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

 


Gritty and real, Only a Breath Apart is a story of hope conjured from pain, strength drawn from innocence, and love earned from self-respect. Beautiful, poignant, and fierce.”
―Kristen Simmons, critically acclaimed author of the Article 5 series


 

Add it to your Goodreads today!

Excerpt:

SCARLETT

I’m defying my parents by attending a funeral. Reckless and adventurous teenage behavior, I know. Most seventeen-year-olds lie to their parents so they can go on a date with a forbidden boy or attend a party where there will be questionable behavior. Me? I’m outright lying to my dad, and it’s because Jesse Lachlin’s grandmother died.

The entire way here I’ve questioned my sanity, but I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I stayed home. Jesse Lachlin used to be my childhood best friend. We were inseparable. We had the type of friendship people strive to have, and then, a few years ago, he cut me so deeply that I still bleed. But ten-year-old me would have never abandoned a hurting Jesse. So today I’m not only honoring the memory of Jesse’s grandmother, but also the memory of our dead friendship.

On my way to the funeral, the high grass of the field swats at my legs, but I don’t mind the sting. I love walking barefoot in grass, I love the smell of the earth and I love that brief feeling of freedom open spaces can provide.

It’s the dog days of August. The type of hot that starts when the sun rises and makes you sweat through your clothes within minutes. While my skin and palms are on fire, the pads of my feet are cool against the dirt. The heat is unwelcome, but the sky is deep blue and the sun is bright, and for that, I can be grateful.

Walking out of the field, I stop short of crossing the one-lane road to slip on the flats that dangle from my fingertips. My mother would be mortified if she knew I was entering a church in a cotton daisy-print sundress. It’s not one of the dresses with stiff fabric and impossible back zippers she would have picked for me at an overpriced department store. It’s the type that’s machine-washable and breathable. The type of dress Jesse’s grandmother would have given her stamp of approval.

I can practically hear my mother heavily sigh and mumble my name, Scarlett, as if it were her personal, private curse word. Mom believes there’s a certain way to dress and behave, and I’m breaking all sorts of her rules today. Watch out, world. I’m officially rebellious.

I smile to myself because I’m the opposite of rebellious. For the last few years, I’ve followed every rule. I’m the teacher’s pet and the girl with straight A’s. I’m the poster child of perfection, and have earned every snarky ice princess comment Jesse’s friends whisper about me in the school hallways because he and I no longer speak.

There are only six cars in the parking lot of the white church, and that makes me frown. I thought more people would have wanted to attend. Jesse’s mud-covered pickup is there, and so is an unnaturally clean black Mercedes that belongs to his uncle. This ought to be interesting. Jesse and his uncle have a mutual hate for each other that runs deeper than any root of any tree.

Movement to my right and I slowly turn my head. Shivers run down my spine at the sight of Glory Gardner. Even though I’m seventeen and too old for ghost stories, I still can’t shake the ones regarding this woman. Girls would whisper over lunch boxes that Glory was a witch. As I grew older, I understood that witch meant con artist. She claims she can read palms, tarot cards and “sees” spirits from beyond the dead. All for a glorious fee.

She’s a beautiful woman—long dirty blond hair that’s untamed, even in a bun, and she has an eclectic taste in clothing. Today she wears a white peasant shirt and a flowing skirt made of material that shimmers in the sun.

Glory watches me like I watch her, with morbid curiosity. I knew her as a child, back when Jesse and I ran wild in the fields near her home, but we haven’t talked in years.

She stands under the shade of a towering weeping willow. There are lots of those trees around here. Mom says it’s because there is too much water in the ground. I say it’s because the people in this town have cried too many tears. Mom doesn’t like my answer.

I tilt my head toward the church, an unspoken question if Glory will be joining me. She shakes her head no. I’m not shocked. According to rumors, Glory will go up in flames if she enters the house of God. But who knows? Maybe I will, too.

The church is one of those picturesque, historical, one-room school buildings squeezed between a cornfield on one side and a hay field on the other. A huge steeple with a bell attempts to reach the heavens, but like anything created by a human, it falls tragically short.

The foreboding wooden door makes no noise as I open it, and I’m able to slip in without a huge, squeaking announcement. Orange light filters in through the dark stained glass windows, and its struggling beams reveal millions of dancing particles of dust.

On the altar, there’s no casket, but there is an urn. My heart dips—Suzanne is dead. I used to wish she were my grandmother, and many times, she treated me as if I belonged to her. Suzanne was the epitome of love, and the world feels colder now that she’s gone.

Choosing a spot in the back, I drop into a pew, and as I scan the church my stomach churns. How is it possible that this place is so barren?

Besides the Funeral Brigade, or the FB, as I like to refer to them, there aren’t many people here. The FB are the older group of woman who attend every funeral in our small town even if they didn’t know the person. Attending funerals isn’t my idea of fun, but who am I to judge?

The FB sit directly behind the one person the town believes to be the lone sane member of the Lachlin family, probably because he isn’t blood related—Jesse’s uncle.

On the left side of the church is Jesse. Only Jesse. And that causes a painful pang in my chest. Where are his stinking friends? The anarchists in training who follow Jesse wherever he goes? Where is the rest of the town? Yes, Suzanne was polarizing, but still, where is any respect?

Quietly, so I don’t draw attention to myself, I slip from the right set of pews to the left. Someone should be on Jesse’s side, and it’s sad it has to be me.

A door at the front of the church opens, and the pastor walks out from the addition the church build on as a small office ten years ago. I would have thought any pastor assigned to this place would be as ancient as this church. Sort of like an Indiana Jones Knights Templar scenario where he lives forever as long as he stays inside. But no, he’s the youngest pastor from the main, newer church in town. His name is Pastor Hughes, and he’s a thirty-something black man with a fit build who is just cute enough that he should be starring in a movie.

The pastor looks up, and he flinches as if startled. I peek over my shoulder then sigh. Clearly, he’s surprised to see me. Flipping fantastic.

His reaction, and the fact he won’t stop staring, causes every person to turn their heads. Lovely. I’ve had dreams like this where I enter a room and become the center of attention. Only in my dreams it’s at school, it’s my classmates and I’m naked, but still, this is disconcerting.

Eventually, the FB and Jesse’s uncle return their attention to the front, but Jesse doesn’t. He rests his arm on the back of the pew, and it’s hard to ignore that he’s made me his sole focus, but I do my best to act as if I don’t notice.

To help, I concentrate on what my mom taught me as a child—to make sure the skirt of my dress is tucked appropriately so that my thighs don’t show. I then fold my hands in my lap and straighten to a book-on-head posture. I can be the ice princess people claim me to be.

Five pews separate me and Jesse, and it’s not nearly enough. My cheeks burn under his continued inspection. Jesse has done this a handful of times since our freshman year. Glance at me as if I’m someone worth looking at, someone worth laughing with a little too loud and smiling with a little too much. Then he remembers who I am and snaps his gaze to someone else.

But he’s not looking away now.

 

Katie McGarry Bio:

Katie McGarry was a teenager during the age of grunge and boy bands and remembers those years as the best and worst of her life. She is a lover of music, happy endings, reality television, and is a secret University of Kentucky basketball fan.

Katie is the author of full length YA novels, PUSHING THE LIMITS, DARE YOU TO, CRASH INTO YOU, TAKE ME ON, BREAKING THE RULES, and NOWHERE BUT HERE and the e-novellas, CROSSING THE LINE and RED AT NIGHT. Her debut YA novel, PUSHING THE LIMITS was a 2012 Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction, a RT Magazine’s 2012 Reviewer’s Choice Awards Nominee for Young Adult Contemporary Novel, a double Rita Finalist, and a 2013 YALSA Top Ten Teen Pick. DARE YOU TO was also a Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction and won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award for Young Adult Contemporary fiction in 2013.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Pinterest | Tumbler | Instagram

Do you plan to pick up Only a Breath Apart on release day? I know I am!
Felicia