Monday, December 8, 2014

Week of ONE!

Today's excerpt comes from my contemporary romantic young adult novel, The Art of Being Indifferent....

After you've read this excerpt, visit my Facebook page HERE...comment and share a link to this blog, and you'll be entered to win a FREE copy of The Art of Being Indifferent!

Here's what the book is all about...

Posey's not the kind of girl who has a lot of friends. After bouncing from foster home to foster home she's only formed an attachment to her iPod, and the music that takes her away from the ugliness that surrounds her.
Drew Baxter's got life on a string, or so everyone thinks. Son of the town mayor, swim team champion, and the hottest guy on campus. Little does everyone know that life at Drew's home is dark, dangerous, and only getting worse.

When partnered together in a tutoring assignment from hell, Posey and Drew are surprised to find how much they have in common. Despite their need to keep what's going on under the surface a secret from the world, it becomes clear they know each other better than anyone else in the world can. Now Posey and Drew have to find a way to exist in a town that wants to keep them apart, and in a circle of classmates that wants them to stop blurring the social lines.

Above all, Drew and Posey need to escape the madness of their abusive parents, before they drag them down forever.

Her head moved slightly and she glowered at me through her bangs. “You were three minutes late.”
            Snorting, I tugged a notebook out of my backpack. “Sorry.”
            “My time is important too, you know.” Posey opened the Lit book and flipped through the pages to a section of The Taming of the Shrew.
Ironic? I thought so.
“I have no doubt of that,” I said, snickering. I tried to cover my laughter up with a cough, but failed miserably. “I’m sure your social calendar is full night and day.” I made air quotes to accentuate my words, and Posey sucked in a sharp breath.
“Your sarcasm is wasted on me,” she snapped.
I looked at her and smiled lazily. I’d won over many a teacher with that smile, and more than a handful of sophomore and junior girls. “Doubtful.”
“Ugh.” She flipped another page, tearing it on the corner. “You make me sick.”
“Do I, Emo Girl?” Plucking her pencil off the table, I started twirling it on my knuckles, a skill I’d perfected while daydreaming my way through Kingston’s class last year. “I think you like it when I’m a dickhead. It feeds to your dark, depressed side. I know your type.” I raised my voice to a high-pitched whine. “I hate my life. I hate the world. Death is the only adventure. Am I right?”
Posey ducked her head again. I could see the red of her cheeks through the strands of black hair. “You are such a dick,” she hissed down at her book. “You don’t even try to hide it. I can’t believe people like you even have friends.”
I smirked. “Whatever. You wouldn’t know what it’s like.”
“You think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” Her head popped up and she glared right at me. “You think you’re so great.”
Well, color me surprised. She had a whole face. And it wasn’t half bad, either. Heart shaped super white skin, red lips without any of that gloss crap on them, and those arctic blue eyes shooting daggers at me. If she pulled the mess of hair out of her face once in a while, and maybe smiled a bit, she might actually be… pretty?
Shuddering, I dropped the pencil. What the hell was wrong with me? Posey was ugly, and rude and combative, and socially… just wrong.
“I know I’ve got it figured out.” The librarian passed our table, pressing her finger to her lips, so I dropped my voice even lower. “And I know I’m great.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, and leaned closer to me. “If you’re so great, then why are you here? Why do you need some insignificant peon like me to tutor you? Why would you lower yourself to sit at the same table as me or even be seen with me? If you’ve got it all figured out, why didn’t you just drop your last name with Mr. Kingston to get your sorry butt out of trouble? Why didn’t you just have your dad call the school to get you an A in Lit? We all know he could do it.”
My smile dropped. “You don’t know my dad.”
She sneered. “I’ve been in this hell hole town long enough to know your dad’s got his thumb on everyone. I’m sure Kingston’s no exception.”
I looked out the library window. “Don’t you have some Shakespeare to talk about? You’re wasting my time.”
“No, Drew,” she spat. “You’re wasting my time. I can’t stand people like you. Or people like your dad, for that matter.”
My molars ground together. This was probably the most I’d ever heard Posey speak, and I wasn’t prepared for her to be so perceptive. She always seemed so disconnected. So sullen and pissy. I didn’t think she cared about anything going on around her, much less give a damn what was going on around this town.
Embarrassment washed over me, and I fought the urge to sink down in my chair. I hated the fact that my dad ran this town like his own personal game of chess. I hated the fact that when people heard his name, they either crapped their pants out of fear or fell all over themselves to accommodate him because he’s some sort of small town superstar. He didn’t deserve either. He was a bully with a platinum card.
But I wasn’t going to tell Posey that. I couldn’t show weakness to this loser. She didn’t need to know I hated my dad—and myself—as much as she did.
I yanked my Lit book out of my backpack, tearing the zipper. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re a rag?”
“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a pretentious jerk?”
“Has anybody ever told you that you don’t have any friends at this school for a reason?”
“Has anybody ever told you that if you weren’t a Baxter nobody would give a damn about you?”
SNAP. My pencil broke in half, and the pieces dropped to the table. “You know, I don’t think this is worth it,” I shoved my chair back with an echoing screech.
“At least we can agree on something,” Posey growled, gathering up her own things. “I’d rather flunk this class than sit across a table from you every day.”
I shoved my book back into my pack. “Sitting at a table with you wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me, either.”
Her face scrunched up, and for a second I thought she would cry. Guilt filled my chest, pressing against my ribs and making everything feel tight and uncomfortable, but I ignored it. I hated making people cry. Especially girls. But this chick was crazy, and I was done.

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