RELEASE DAY: Susan Rush "Just Over the Horizon"

Blurb:

While grieving the death of her eccentric nana, Sarah discovers an unexpected gift. She soon grows dependent on the heirloom, a little box, for comfort and guidance. Feeling restless and needing a change, Sarah accepts a job as a traveling hospice nurse and ends up in the quaint, historical town of Camden, South Carolina. Although she loves caring for her patients, loneliness creeps in and threatens to take root. Eventually she opens herself to new friendships, and two remarkable yet vastly differing men compete for her attention. Nate is a true Southerner with a sarcastic wit and genuine warmth, while Dr. Joseph Thornton is a caring oncologist who is known as the best catch in the state.

     Facing heart-wrenching trials, the faith of her childhood is all but shattered. In spite of this, Sarah seeks comfort from her box and is determined to cling to Nana’s godly legacy. But when a mysterious stranger appears with devastating news, can her cherished box continue to provide answers or will Sarah realize her life has been based on nothing but lies?

 

Author:

Susan grew up in Charlotte, NC and has a psychology degree from Furman University and a masters in social work from the University of South Carolina. She jokes that God didn't lead her to a career in hospice; He took her kicking and screaming the whole way. Now passionate about end-of-life care, she is a hospice director. She lives in Columbia, SC with her husband and three phenomenal children.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Sarah gripped the steering wheel as she leaned forward, straining to see out the windshield. Steady, rhythmic rain pelted down, making it impossible to concentrate. She hated being late more than she hated her allergy to cats. She’d have to slow down if she was going to make sense of the scribbled directions. Why did people live in places unknown to GPSs? She shook her head as her patience wore thin. How many soybean fields can South Carolina possibly have? She looked at her watch and grew more agitated. She was scheduled to admit a patient in Rembert at four-thirty. It was already four-thirty-five.

It had been a long time since she’d driven through the country. On a clear day she would have enjoyed the rural setting with vast farmlands occasionally interrupted by a rolling pasture sprinkled with dairy cattle. But not today; her supervisor hadn’t even given her time to unpack before rushing her out to see a new patient.

Sarah sighed in relief when she spotted the narrow road hidden between a pair of weeping willows. Their gloomy branches spilled over the drive like long, arthritic fingers. Sarah turned her fuel-efficient coup in and came to a rolling stop. Why had she not invested in a four-wheel drive?

Staring down the deserted road, she imagined that on a sunny day it would be picturesque with the stately oak trees and towering pines framing the passage. But as clouds hovered lower and the skies grew more ominous, Sarah shivered and willed her heart to slow down.

Determined to reach her destination, she forged ahead only to discover the country road quickly became a gravel drive. Within a few hundred yards the gravel disappeared, and before she realized it, it was merely a clay pathway. Sarah hesitated, wondering if she should push forward or give up and turn around.

As she prayed about what to do, the skies opened and released sheets of rain. The windshield became a gray wall. She didn’t have a choice; she had to stop and wait out the storm.

A chill ran up her spine as lightning bolts flashed across the sky. A traveling hospice nurse? What was I thinking? Out in the boonies… no cell phone coverage, nobody to ask directions. I was an idiot to take this job. What was I thinking? Sarah’s self-reprimand was interrupted by a loud boom of thunder that shook the car.

She looked in her rearview mirror and was horrified to see a muddy creek running down the middle of the dirt drive. Her car began inching sideways. She locked her brakes but the car continued to slide. This is not good, so not good. Just as she started to panic, it eased into the bank and found a solid resting place.

I am not going to have a meltdown. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the steering wheel and emphatically declared, “I refuse to have a meltdown.” As Sarah consciously slowed her breathing, she leaned her head back on the headrest and let her mind drift to Nana, her amazingly eccentric grandmother who always knew just how to comfort her, how to quiet her nerves.

Sarah turned and climbed into the backseat. She ripped the tape off of a moving box, reached in, pulled out several items and tossed them aside. Sarah was searching for one special treasure. When she finally found it, she smiled in relief and placed it on her lap. Simply having it near comforted her.

Wiping condensation from the window, Sarah looked out at the angry storm. Gusts of wind ravaged the trees, thrusting twigs and leaves onto the car. She caressed the top of the box as her eyes filled with tears. Lovingly, she traced the little painted strawberries on the box with her finger. Calm gradually settled, and a sense of nostalgia consumed her as she peeked under the lid.

Just as she reached in to retrieve the sacred contents, the rain eased off and became a light drizzle. Looking at her watch, she realized she was already thirty minutes late for the hospice admission. Sarah inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and then closed the top of her heirloom.

RELEASE DAY: TC Booth "Beyond Vica"

Blurb:

Gabby and her two best friends share a constellation in the sky named VICA. The trio named the constellation that tells the tale of their childhood friendship. Now that Gabby is fifteen, this tale written in the stars means more than ever. Gabby finds herself facing the threat of losing her best friend, Sam to cancer.

The sudden interest in Sam from people at school raises Gabby's suspicions. They've never cared about Sam before, with the exception of Brody, Gabby's other best friend. His insane good looks and off the scale popularity attracts the attention of most girls. Gabby's learned to keep her guard up with these girls who've attempted to befriend her in order to get close to Brody. She won't stand for Sam being used as a pawn in their games.

Grief over Sam's situation triggers memories of Gabby's past. She's flooded with images of a tragedy that happened when Gabby was five. To complicate matters even more, Gabby finds herself turning into one of the girls she's always complained about...the girls that drool after Brody. Gabby's afraid to let herself feel anything for Brody other than friendship. With the threat of losing Sam, she can't take a chance on jeopardizing her only other friendship.

  As Gabby's world crashes down on her, she's forced to face the realities of life, death, grief, and love. How will she survive without the friendship that's written in the stars?

Author:

TC Booth was born and raised in the small town where she currently lives and teaches.  She is married with two daughters, teaches, and holds a master's degree in education.

 She discovered her enjoyment of writing at a young age with the writing of poetry. This love of writing devopled into writing short stories for her family and students.

 She wrote the children's story, The Time Travel Storm  for her class that was published in 2102. Her short young adult fiction story titled "A Seasoned Card Player" was published in an anthology called A Certain Kind of Freedom  last year.

She feels blessed  to be living her dream of not only teaching children, but writing stories for them and young adults to enjoy as well.

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

My eyes rest on his empty desk in front of mine. Sam didn’t return to school in January from winter break, so his desk has been vacant for 72 days, counting today. The cancer that had been in remission for almost six months reappeared in time for Christmas. Talk about a Christmas that sucked. Nobody deserves that, especially Sam.

“Well, Gabby? Do you?” Mr. Blackwell, aka Mr. Baldy, calls on me. He narrows his eyes above the rectangular black-framed glasses that rest on the tip of his nose. His bald head turns a light shade of pink, a sure sign he’s annoyed.

I clear my throat and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry, what?” I sense twenty-three pairs of eyes on me and feel my cheeks burn.

“Do you have the answer?” Mr. Baldy gestures toward the problem displayed on the whiteboard.

I don’t care about your math problem, I want to say. Instead, I shake my head. “No.”

He sighs and looks at another student.

Emily waves her hand in the front row as if she’s hailing a taxi. He calls on her, “Yes, Emily?”

She gives the answer, smirks at me over her shoulder, and flips her blond hair. She should be proud of herself. It’s not often that she figures out an answer before I do.

Sam and I would make blonde jokes about her. I smile as I remember him saying, “Did you hear about the blonde who sold her car for gas money?”

The buzzer announces both the end of the period and my escape to the restroom. I gather my things and dart into the hall. I weave through the sea of bodies until I reach the girls’ room. Once I'm secured in a stall, I send Sam a text telling him about Blondie and Mr. Baldy, hoping to make him laugh.

While waiting for a reply, I read the latest news etched into the ugly green paint of the stall door. Someone named LD loves HT. Monica is a b*&#^. Brody is hot. I roll my eyes. Of course it’s Brody. The girls have drooled over him since we were in middle school.

I glance at my phone. No reply. Sam usually replies right away if he is having a good day. I hold my breath and pray that he is doing well.

I allow my eyes to drift to the mirror while washing my hands. An arm stacked with bracelets at the sink next to me catches my eye. I look up to see a girl with pink-tipped black hair. Her brown eyes are lined in purple. Jamie, the new girl. According to rumors, she'd been kicked out of her old school. She shifts her eyes in my direction and I look away.

****

My cafeteria tray brushes the back of a girl who’s explaining to three other girls where she bought her sparkly black fleece-lined boots. She frowns at me over her shoulder.

“Sorry,” I mutter, even though I’m not. She shouldn’t block the door of the lunchroom to discuss fashion when my stomach growls at me to feed it.

“Gabs! Over here.” Brody motions me to his table with the jocks. I slide onto the bench beside him and am instantly overpowered by the smell of popular cologne. How’s a girl to breathe with ten athletic male bodies at one table, all wearing the same smell? I cough and slyly cover my nose with the back of my hand.

“Have you heard from Sam?” Brody asks.

“I texted him before lunch, but I haven’t heard back.” All eyes bore into me, waiting for an update. I want to roll my eyes, but don’t. Everyone is so concerned about Sam now that his cancer is back. Sam and I were never allowed at this table before he was sick.

“Me either. I texted him this morning.” Brody’s gray eyes are filled with concern. I used to say in fourth grade that Brody was my second best friend and Sam was my first best friend. I glance at his dark hair and the way his mouth turns down at the corners. His dimples pop even when he’s frowning. Not much has changed. Brody, Sam, and I have been best buds all of our lives. When we hit middle school, our classmates splintered into groups but the three of us stuck together, even as freshmen.

My Town in Three Photos - London (Ontario Canada)

 

by Michele Barrow-Belisle

 

London is a city in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, situated along the Quebec City–Windsor Corridor. The city has a population of 366,151 according to the 2011 Canadian census. London is at the forks of the non-navigable Thames River, approximately halfway between Toronto, Ontario and Detroit, Michigan. The City of London is a separated municipality, politically separate from Middlesex County, though it remains the county seat.  (Wikipedia)

 

 

AP Author Spotlight: Heather Gray

Heather Gray

 

Website: http://www.heathergraywriting.com

Blog: http://www.heathergraywriting.com/blog

Twitter ID: @LaughDreamWrite
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4051662.Heather_Gray
Google +: https://plus.google.com/+Heathergraywritingnow
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/LaughDreamWrite

 

Describe yourself in three words:

eccentric
eclectic
emphatic

 

Tell us a little about your latest release:

Redemption
Murder, mayhem, marriage, and a horse named Mutiny...
Minnie's impulsiveness has been getting her into trouble her whole life. She never expected it to land her on a suspect list for murder, though. With nothing left but a few trunks of possessions and her own defeat, Minnie leaves San Francisco behind and returns home. In an effort to protect her family and friends, she keeps them in the dark about the ongoing investigation and the possibility that danger may have followed her to Larkspur. When events force her to trust someone with her secrets, she turns to the sheriff and finds both a friend and an ally.

It may have been four years since he last saw Minnie, but how could he ever forget her? When Art finds her sneaking through a back alley in town, he knows something's wrong. The once vivacious Minnie is a mere shadow of her former self, all sparkle gone from her eyes. Art knows that time spent with her will be dangerous to his heart, but he can't turn Minnie away. Even if it means protecting her from her own impetuous decisions, he vows to keep her safe.

In her attempt to take responsibility for her own choices, Minnie shut out her friends, family, and God. An unsolved murder isn't all that's chasing Minnie, though. Will she find her way back to the heart of her faith before it's too late?

 

What is your earliest memory?

One of my earliest memories is of having to use the restroom at the exact same time that my cousin had to use it.  There was only one bathroom in the house.  I was the faster runner (or I was just closer to start with), and she *may* have been hit in the face as I slammed the bathroom door.  I was three.

 

What would you consider the greatest moment in your life?

There hasn't been a single great moment.  My life has had a lot of great moments.  The births of my children and watching them grow and learn and love... It's a series of moments that I'll cherish forever.

 

What’s the hardest thing in in life you’ve done?

I said goodbye to one of my children, and I won't get to see her again this side of heaven.  That's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  The rest of life is a cake walk compared to that.

 

What have you learned in life so far?

Life can change in an instant, so celebrate each and every moment that you can.  Laugh loudly and often.  Share hugs and heartaches.  Embrace each day, and find joy in each new sunrise.

 

Everyone’s favourite question: if you could invite five people for dinner, who would it be?

I often joke that I live in a bubble, but it's true.  I am really bad with names.  People around me can talk about so-and-so and I have absolutely no idea who they're talking about - even if it's an author I've read, a movie star I've watched, or a singer I've listened to.  I'd actually rather go to the dentist than be put on the spot to remember people's names...  :)  I will assume that I can only invite living people and that I shouldn't list family and friends (since, duh, they'd be there anyway).  With that in mind, my five people are Tamera Alexander, David Crowder, Beth Moore, Matthew West, and Karen Kingsbury.

 

 

Chance for our readers - what else would you like to know about Heather Gray?

RELEASE DAY: Kristin Wallace "Imagine that"

Blurb:

Children’s author Emily Sinclair was supposed to be the next J.K. Rowling…Until her second book flopped and her imagination went on the fritz. Like the storybook heroes of her childhood, Emily sets out on an epic adventure to find inspiration again. Till a dead car lands her in Covington Falls, a small, Southern town with a healing power of its own. Soon Emily is taking up her quest, looking for inspiration driving a mobile library van, as a companion to a crotchety old woman and her insomniac dog, and as a very ungraceful baker’s assistant.  Of course, what really sparks her romantic fantasies is a valiant hero, though he yields a paint roller instead of a sword.

Rugged, blue-collar Nate Cooper has spent most of his life avoiding the printed page. These days he doesn’t have much use for fancy words and certainly not for a slightly off-center writer on the lam. Not when his mother is battling cancer, his little brother has morphed into a teenaged ogre, and God seems to have taken a vacation.

On paper, these two would seem the least likely pairing, and a happily ever after nothing but fantasy. But with faith and imagination Emily and Nate are about to write a new chapter that will lead to unexpected love

 

Author:

Growing up Kristin devoured books like bags of Dove Dark Chocolate. Her first Golden Book led to Laura Ingalls Wilder, Nancy Drew, Encyclopedia Brown, C.S. Lewis and the Sweet Valley High series. Later, she discovered romance novels and fell in love all over again. It’s no surprise then that Kristin would one day try her hand at writing them. She writes inspirational romance and women’s fiction filled with love, laughter and a leap of faith. When she’s not writing her next novel, Kristin works as an advertising copywriter. Over the 15-year career in the ad industry, she has worked on clients that have included the Miami Marlins, Discovery Networks, Radisson Seven Seas Cruises, The Peabody Hotel and Sea World. She also enjoys singing in the church choir and worship team and playing flute in a community orchestra.

You can connect with Kristin online at:

Website: www.KristinWallaceAuthor.com

Facebook: http://facebook.com/KristinWallaceAuthor 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KWallaceAuthor

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kristin-Wallace/e/B00G5KX80I

 

  

Now available on

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

A stomach-churning thunk. A disaster-laden chug. A scary, threatening gurgle.

Emily Sinclair’s hands clutched the steering wheel as she guided her how-could-you-give-out-on-me-now convertible to the side of the road. With a last ominous blunk and splutter, the car gave up the ghost.

She switched off the engine, waited a few seconds, and then turned the key again. Nothing.

Not surprising. As if anything glug-glugging like an octogenarian trying to cough up a lung was going to restart with so little effort.

A cranky yowl went up from the passenger seat. Emily glanced over at the pet carrier and sent the fat Persian inside a confident smile. “Don’t worry, Wordsworth. This is why modern man invented cell phones.”

She fished her phone out of her purse. A blank screen stared back at her. Pressing more buttons did nothing.

Dead.

Dead as her car.

With a sound of disgust, Emily tossed the useless phone aside and stared out the windshield at the deserted country road in front of her. The very deserted country road that stretched around a sparkling blue lake and disappeared into the back of beyond. The kind of road featured in all the best horror stories. Emily’s mind conjured up every one, along with the opening line in the newspaper article.

Once-famous children’s author found mangled to death. Quest to locate her lost imagination and revive faded career ends in disaster… as her mother predicted.

Muttering an oath, Emily climbed out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she could. What a fix. And ironic. There were rules about writing. Not grammar rules, like where to put commas or when to use a semicolon. No, the unofficial rules for fiction writing. Chief among them is that an author should never start a novel with the character driving or thinking. No, readers wanted action right off the top, and the car could never break down.

In college, Emily had written a short story where the heroine’s car stalled in a typical these-people-will-murder-you-in-your-sleep town. Emily’s professor had written cliché in bold, red pen across the page. Not satisfied, she’d added boring cliché, underlining the boring with three thick red lines. The critique had stung. The fact that it had come courtesy of Professor Vanessa Sinclair, Emily’s mother, had been like ripping off an old bandage.

Emily was breaking all three cardinal rules of writing at once. Though technically the driving rule didn’t apply. Same for the sitting rule. She was thinking, though. Thinking her entire life had become a cliché, so what did it matter if she broke her mother’s precious writing rules? She was a one-hit writing wonder. A flash in the pan. A big-haired eighties’ rock band that had scored one giant hit and then disappeared into the oblivion of those nostalgic ‘Where are they now?’ music specials.

Emily sighed. If one had to break down somewhere, one could do worse than… what had the sign said back there? Covington something. Covington something, Georgia. Muted afternoon sun shimmered off the surface of the lake. She lifted a hand to ward off the eye-watering glare and focused on the water. In her previous life, the golden flecks of sunlight reflecting off its surface would have transformed into a million different kinds of fantastical creatures. Or maybe something nightmarish would charge out of that bank of oak trees across the lake.

RELEASE DAY: Alysia S. Knight "Kare for me"

 

Blurb:

All Kaira Baker wants is a new life for her and her son.  What she gets is a vandalizing old lady, death threats, and an infuriating sheriff who is the father of her son’s new best friend.

Widower Sheriff Matthew Collins keeps accidently offending the new intriguing beauty in town, but with someone threatening her, he has to figure out how to get her to trust him enough to keep her alive.

  

Author:

I grew up in a small town in Wyoming loving the outdoors, sports, art, and reading Hardy Boys books. After reading them all at least a half dozen times, I started writing my own stories. 

Thirty years ago I married a wonderful, honorable man. I’m mother of five children and grandmother of five boys with another on the way. I love traveling.  Through my husband’s work and vacations, I have visited much of the United States, all over Eastern Europe, Canada, Mexico, China, Thailand, Cambodia and Australia, giving me many intriguing locations and experiences for my stories. 

I am a storyteller.  I write the classic hero story because I think there’s a need for more heroes, love, and adventure in our lives.  I’m not out to change the world with my writing; I’m just hoping to make your day a little better. 

 

 

Now available on

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Excerpt:

"What?" Kaira hit the turn signal, pulling into the parking lot in front of Body Kare, the massage therapy clinic she hoped to open in just two days. Kaira climbed out of her car fighting back tears at the sight of black grease smeared across the delicate white letters that she had carefully stenciled on the window.

She glanced at her watch and pushed her key into the lock. She hoped there was enough time to clean off the grime before she had to be at work at Josie's Boutique. Paper towels and cleaner wiped away the mess but did nothing to clean away the pain that the senseless vandalism did to her heart. Why did someone have to pick on her place? This was her and Jason's new start, their new life.

 

Chapter One

"Now, that's a nice display."

Matt turned his head in the direction his deputy indicated wondering why he bothered. Samson always had an eye out for the ladies, even though Hayes, Colorado was small enough, he recognized most everyone by sight, if not by name. The woman who moved around the display in the window of Josie's Boutique was totally unfamiliar to him. And Sam was right. She was a real nice display of womanhood. As the woman turned, the modest black skirt, which hung halfway down her calf, opened with a slit to her knee. Matt felt a wave of interest. Yes, Sam was definitely right, that was one beautiful display of woman.

"How about we stop and pay Josie a visit?" Sam suggested.

Matt was saved from making a decision by the radio. "Yeah, Ruth?"

"Matt, I have Mrs. Norman here all in a stew, demanding to see you."

"On my way, be there in about two minutes."

"Can't you make it quicker? That woman…" His dispatcher's words hung in the air of the sheriff's SUV.

Matt laughed along with Sam, each knowing well what Ruth meant. His mind crafted a picture of Mrs. Norman's short, rotund form and one of her common stern, disapproving looks. A minute later Matt pulled up in front of the Sheriff’s Station. After getting out, he took the three stairs in a single bound.

Shrill words rippled down the hall. "I want to know what he's going to do about this. We can't have the likes of that going on in our town. To think, they gave her a license."

Matt grimaced a second before pasting a smile on his face and stepping into the sheriff's office. "Mrs. Norman, how are you today? No more trouble with the Bensons' dog I hope?"

Claira Norman had been a huffing busybody since his youth. "How, indeed! Matthew Collins, I want to know what you're going to do about that illicit den of iniquity." The woman glared up at him with her hands on her hips in just the same look he had imagined a minute earlier, right down to her floral print dress.

Shifting back to the matter at hand, he frowned looking at Ruth, who was both his dispatcher and secretary. She just shrugged her shoulders, rolled her eyes and left the room.

"Den of iniquity? I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

"That Massage Therapy Clinic." Derision rang heavy in the woman's tone as she drew out the words. "No matter what fancy name you call it. It is still a massage parlor, and we know what goes on in one of those places. You're supposed to be a good, upstanding member of the community, besides being sheriff. And you're also father of a young son. You should do something about it."

"Mrs. Norman, I'm afraid I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a man," she said, looking him up and down none too flatteringly. "You know what I'm talking about." When he made no comment, she charged on. "On the corner of First and Monroe, they're opening a massage parlor."

"Now Mrs. Norman, on the corner of First and Monroe is the Fitness Plaza. There is the health club, health food store, and the juice and bagel shop."

"You should know your town better, Matthew Collins, there is a massage parlor opening."

 

RELEASE DAY: Ella Martin "Will the real Prince Charming please Stand Up?"

 

Blurb:

Bianca is the Westgate Prep quarterback’s sister—and that’s her only claim to fame. When her friends’ social experiment turns her into the It Girl of the Sophomore class and she captures the attention of the most popular guy in her grade, though, she’s ecstatic to introduce the world to her first boyfriend. But no one’s ever told her what to do when her friends hate her boyfriend and Prince Charming starts acting like a control-freaky nightmare. It doesn’t help that being around her brother’s best friend is making her head all fuzzy, either.

 

Author:

Ella Martin is a prep school survivor and a Southern California native. She writes books about spunky teenagers who are way cooler than she ever was, and she totally believes in love and happy endings. She likes sunny places and is terrified of snowy winters, so she now lives in Florida with her husband and son.

 

 

Now available on

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

“The exit polls are in, guys. It’s still early, but Bianca may actually win this.”

I looked up from my salad at the lanky boy who took the seat across from me. “Exit polls?” I asked. “Finn, you can’t be serious.”

His cool cerulean blue eyes peered at me over the top of his wireframe glasses. “How often is it that one of my friends has a chance at being Homecoming Princess?”

Beside me, my friend Talia crunched into a carrot stick. “So what is she ahead by?”

I glared at her. “Don’t encourage him.”

She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder, revealing a bright green streak in her dark hair as she grinned at me. I sighed, knowing I was defeated.

Talia Nicoletti was the only person I knew brave enough to thumb her nose at the Westgate Prep Appearance Guidelines. The green streak she sported was her way of coping with the birthmark on her scalp that turned a lock of hair white. It totally violated all the rules, but after her mom had a meeting with the principal last year, both of the school deans gave up, stopped calling out her blatant disregard for the guidelines, and let her get away with everything. We called it the Talia Clause. Not even her knee-high combat boots and larger-than-regulation silver hoops that day earned a second glance from the faculty. But it probably didn’t hurt to have a high-powered attorney who terrified the entire administration for a mom, either.

“Based on the thirty-five random people I asked, which is a sample size of about twelve percent, she’s up by almost sixteen percentage points,” Finn replied, picking up his burger. “It’s just outside the margin of error, but I’m really confident in my math.”

Of course he was. Finnegan Marks was Westgate Prep’s top mathlete and the only sophomore taking pre-calculus while most of us slackers suffered through geometry. Come to think of it, Finn was probably the only sophomore not taking any regular tenth-grade classes. He stood about a head taller than I did (which was significant since I was considered kind of tall at five-foot-nine) and, despite his skinny frame, was fairly athletic. He was the best shooter on last year’s JV basketball team, though he said that wasn’t as much skill as it was a basic understanding of physics and geometry.

“I’m only on that stupid ballot because you and Jake thought it would be a fun social experiment,” I said with a snort. “You really think campaigning will have any effect on who’ll win?”

“Well, there has to be a way to level the field to prove it’s possible to rig a popularity contest,” he said, sounding hurt.

“So I get to be the guinea pig?” I stifled a groan. It wasn’t that I couldn’t win the Homecoming Princess crown on my own because I was ugly or anything. I thought my boring brown eyes were a little too big for my face, I was never crazy about the way my small nose turned up a bit at the end, and I really wished I’d inherited some of my mom’s Latin curves, but my looks were better than passable.

No, I wouldn’t win because I mostly kept to my close circle of friends, and I was a pretty ordinary student. I wasn’t hyper-involved in a ton of clubs, I was only in a handful of honors classes, and I wasn’t one of those girls who guys were drooling over. I was the girl you saw walking down the hall and didn’t think twice about.