Thanks, everyone who participated in the Indelibles Beach Bash.
The winner of the grand prize (a choice of Kindle or Nook and all the Indelibles new releases) is:
The winner of an ebook copy of Running Wide Open is:
Congratulations, Heidi and Emmanuelle! Happy reading. 
Announcing the release of Closed Hearts, the sequel to Open Minds by Susan Kaye Quinn.
Book Two of the Mindjack Trilogy
When you control minds, only your heart can be used against you.
Eight months ago, Kira Moore revealed to the mindreading world that mindjackers like herself were hidden in their midst. Now she wonders if telling the truth was the right choice after all. As wild rumors spread, a powerful anti-jacker politician capitalizes on mindreaders’ fears and strips jackers of their rights. While some jackers flee to Jackertown—a slum rife with jackworkers who trade mind control favors for cash—Kira and her family hide from the readers who fear her and jackers who hate her. But when a jacker Clan member makes Kira’s boyfriend Raf collapse in her arms, Kira is forced to save the people she loves by facing the thing she fears most: FBI agent Kestrel and his experimental torture chamber for jackers.
Now available!
$2.99 Ebook at Amazon (and Amazon UK) and Barnes and Noble
Paper copies available at Amazon or get signed copies from the author
Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling YA novel Open Minds, Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy, available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iTunes. Susan’s business card says “Author and Rocket Scientist,” but she mostly plays on Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest.
CLICK HERE to join the Virtual Party for Closed Hearts
(including bonus content for the Mindjack Trilogy and writerly guest posts)
and to
ENTER TO WIN PRIZES
Sixteen of the Indelibles have new releases in May and June, so in celebration we’re giving away the winner’s choice of a Kindle or Nook, loaded with those books. Driven is one of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The last thing on 16-year-old Jess DeLand’s wish list is a boyfriend. She’d have to be crazy to think any guy would look twice at her. Besides, there are more important things to hope for, like a job working on cars and an end to her mom’s drinking. Foster care is a constant threat, and Jess is willing to sacrifice anything to stay out of the system. When luck hands her the chance to work on a race car, she finds herself rushing full throttle into a world of opportunities—including a boy who doesn’t mind the grease under her fingernails. The question is, can a girl who keeps herself locked up tighter than Richard Petty’s racing secrets open up enough to risk friendship and her first romance?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Enter to Win:
1. Visit the Indelibles Website between May 21st and midnight EDT May24th
2. Follow the chain of links to each of the blogs on the hop
3. Collect the secret word from each blog.
4. Submit the secret sentence for your chance to win.
And now, here’s a teaser of Driven:
The set-up: Jess is furious when Cody accidentally wrecks her friend Teri Sue’s car. She confronts him in the pits and finds it annoying that Teri Sue doesn’t seem upset about the incident. This scene takes place two days later.
~~~~~~~~
When I got to Teri Sue’s after school on Monday, the gloomy overcast subduing my mood, she was already in the barn, knocking dents out of the Camaro’s fender with a sledgehammer.
“Hey, girl” she said. “I got that tie rod end and ball joint you wanted. They’re on the workbench. But how ’bout giving me a hand with this first?”
“Sure.” I rooted through the toolbox, came up with a body hammer and dolley, and got to work.
It didn’t surprise me when Teri Sue started in with a stream of friendly chatter, as if our arguments at the track had never happened. Nothing unpleasant seemed to stick in her head for long.
While we were finishing the fender, the throaty rumble of a big-engined car sounded from the driveway. A Ford Galaxie 500 with oxidized yellow paint pulled up outside the open barn doors. 1965. I know my Fords.
I was too busy admiring the enormous grill and dual headlights to notice who was behind the wheel. Then the driver’s door opened and Cody Everett stepped out, spoiling the picture.
What was he doing here?
Wearing faded jeans, black Converse high tops, and a T-shirt that read Outcast, he sauntered into the barn as if he were six feet tall instead of 5’6”. His dark bangs, which on Saturday had been flattened by his helmet, now arched over his forehead like the tail of a proud rooster. “Hey, Teri Sue,” he said, ducking his head in her direction.
“Cody!” She smiled so big you’d think he was a rock star, blessing us with his very presence.
He flashed a grin that rivaled one of his uncle’s, yet had its own distinctive bad boy edge. It didn’t impress me. I’d seen his type in action. They flirted with the homely girls to get their hopes up, and then laughed about it with their buddies behind their backs. Why did all the good looking ones have to be such arrogant jerks?
Maybe if we ignored him, he’d go away. I sank down beside the car to begin dismantling the steering linkage. That tie-rod end needed replacing, and it sure wasn’t going to replace itself.
“Looks like you’re getting her back together,” Cody said, nodding toward the Camaro. He leaned against the barn doorway, hands jammed in his pockets.
“Yep.” Teri Sue went on smiling. What was that all about? If she had any sense, she’d run him off with a tire iron.
I finished loosening the nut on the tie-rod end and dropped the wrench in the dust with a thud. “Teri Sue,” I said, trying to reel in her attention. “I need the pickle fork.”
“Sure thing.” She got it from the toolbox and slapped it into my outstretched hand.
“Thanks.” The word came out sharp, causing Teri Sue to raise an eyebrow. Well, what did she expect? There was work to be done. This was no time for chit-chatting with the competition.
“So … you were running pretty good Saturday night,” Cody said, facing Teri Sue, but cutting a sideways a glance at me.
“Yeah, until you slammed into her.”
“Jess!” Teri Sue’s eyes flashed a warning. “Cody apologized for that.”
“He wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t done it to begin with.” And what was he looking at, anyway?
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s water under the bridge.” She beamed at him, and he granted her a lazy grin in return. Good Lord, if she got this friendly with a guy who spun her out, what was she going to do when someone stuffed her in the wall?
I wedged the pickle fork between the tie-rod end and center-link. The hammer felt dangerous in my hand as I slammed it against the end of the tool, popping the joint loose with a single blow.
“It’s nice to know you can channel your anger,” Cody said.
I nailed him with a poisonous look. He might’ve kept the smirk off his lips, but I could see it in his eyes. For a moment, I let myself savor the idea of chucking the hammer at him.
He raised an eyebrow at Teri Sue, and she shrugged. Great. One brief conversation in the pits, and now they were best buddies. I hoped this wasn’t heading where I thought it was heading. The last thing I needed was Teri Sue hooking up with him.
“So …” Cody said, rocking forward on his toes, impervious to the waves of loathing I was sending in his direction. “You guys wouldn’t happen to have a gear puller for a pitman arm, would you?”
He could not be serious. In what demented universe did he think we’d fall for such a feeble line? “Yeah, sure,” I said waving a hand toward the back of the barn, “It’s right over there by the welding equipment, just this side of the paint booth.”
“Jess!” Teri Sue gasped.
I ignored her and turned to face Cody head on. “I should think if anyone was going to have something like that, it would be your sponsor. This isn’t exactly a Winston Cup garage we’re running.” Too late, I realized it must sound like I was belittling Teri Sue’s shop. Fortunately, she was so exasperated she failed to notice.
“Why are ya givin’ him such a hard time?” she demanded, hands parked on her hips and feet planted wide. “If I’m not mad, why should you be?”
It struck me that I was being entirely too vocal. Raising a fuss would only draw out Cody’s visit. “Forget it.” I said, getting up to grab the new tie-rod end off the workbench.
Teri Sue sighed and shook her head. Grasping Cody by the wrist, she dragged him outside, where their conversation resumed in low tones peppered by occasional laughter.
Good. Now maybe I could get some work done. I tried to lose myself in the rhythm of replacing the part, but something kept compelling me to glance toward the doorway of the barn. Whenever I did, I caught Cody grinning at me, his dark eyes taunting. What did he have to grin about? And why did he keep staring at me? I swiped at my cheek with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Did I have grease on my face or something?
It was nearly dinnertime, and I’d single-handedly repaired the steering and removed the upper control arm, when Cody finally found it in himself to leave. Teri Sue stood in the doorway, waving as if he were a favorite relative departing after the holidays.
Once the Galaxie had growled away, she turned to face me. She didn’t have to say a word. The mile-wide smile made it clear what was going on.
“Next thing I know you’ll be going out with the guy,” I said, wiping my hands on a grease rag and throwing it at a box near the door.
“I dunno about that.”
“Oh, come on.” I cocked my chin, annoyed that she was so intent on playing the clueless role. “Couldn’t you tell he was blatantly flirting with you?”
Teri Sue laughed. “Wake up, Jess. It’s you he likes.”
~~~~~~~~
While Driven stands on its own as a story, it’s also part of the Full Throttle series, which begins with Running Wide Open and continues with Getting Sideways. If you’re looking for books for boys, these first two should be just the thing to rev your motor.
If you’d like a chance to win Running Wide Open, book 1 in the series, subscribe to my newsletter and leave a comment below so I have a way to get in touch with you. MailChimp will send me an email to let me know you’ve subscribed.
My keyword is YOUR. And now that you have that, you can scoot along to Magan’s blog to continue the hop.
Like Clockwork, a companion novel to the Clockwise series, is here!!
Adeline doesn’t feel she belongs in her own time, but can bad boys from the past be trusted?
Adeline Savoy had hoped that the move west from Cambridge to Hollywood with her single dad would mean they’d finally bond like a real family, but all she got was a father too busy with his new female friends and his passion for acting to really see her.
Instead she finds herself getting attached to Faye, the divorcee hair dresser she befriends when she travels back in time to 1955. Plus Faye has a hottie, James Dean-esque, bad-boy brother who has Adeline’s heart all aflutter. But bad boys from the past can be dangerous.
Is it possible that Adeline really does belong in her own time and that maybe the right boy lives as close as next door?
LIKE CLOCKWORK is available now at Amazon and Smashwords and soon for B&N, ibooks and other e-book retailers.
Read on to sample the first chapter:
My dad still thought I was ten. That was how old I was when my mother died, and how old I was when my father crawled into his “cave,” also known as his office on the 26th floor of the John Hancock tower. Six years later, like a bear coming out of hibernation, Dad decided his days of hiding behind a desk were over. I thought he was going through a mid-life crisis, which was why we now lived in Hollywood instead of Cambridge. And why when I spotted his reflection in a mirror at the cosmetic counter in the Shop & Save store, I almost dropped the Scarlet Passion lipstick tester I’d just smeared on my lips.
Even though I was sixteen, I wasn’t allowed to wear make-up. True. With my left hand I used a tissue to wipe the evidence off my mouth, all
the while watching my dad’s familiar profile move in and out of range in the mirror.
He was laughing. I crouched down and turned, my vision just missing the counter top, and watched. His hair had grown out since the “decision.” He used to always keep it so short, that I didn’t even know it was wavy before, and the lines on his face never used to turn upward in a smile. I had to see who was causing this cosmic reaction in my father. The clerk who sold cheap jewelry, a pretty-in-a-fake way brunette, tilted her head and giggled back.
My jaw dropped and something really strange started happening in my stomach. I felt a little sick because I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. My dad was flirting!
Who was this man dressed in khakis, flip-flops and an un-tucked pseudo Hawaiian shirt? My real dad only wore pinstriped suits with starchy white shirts and a blue tie. Always. Even to bed, I was certain.
“Miss? Are you all right?” The cosmetic clerk was armed with a spray nozzle cleaner in one hand and a paper towel in the other.
I mimed as best I could, “ssh”, but apparently dad was the only one with acting skills in my family, since she wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Miss? You don’t look too good. Should I call for medical?”
The fake pretty lady stopped chatting when she heard her colleague talking so loudly. Obviously, that meant my dad’s little flirtation episode was over. And of course, my blonde ponytail was a giveaway.
“Adeline?” he said.
“Dad!” I jumped up, feigning surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
What are you doing here? I thought. “Um nothing, just looking. Thought I might buy some gum.”
Dad glanced back at the fake and I did a quick switcheroo, replacing the tester and grabbing a sealed golden tube. It tucked nicely in my fist as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Adeline, come here,” Dad said. “I want you to meet someone.”
My legs moved toward dad and the fake without my permission.
“Adeline, this is my friend from acting class, Spring. Spring, this is my daughter, Adeline.”
Spring extended her hand. Unfortunately, the contraband lipstick was in my right hand. I wasn’t a magician. Dad would notice if I tried to switch. I opted for the awkward offering of my left hand.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Spring gushed.
“Same,” I said, not meaning it at all. “Not that I don’t want to stay and chat,” I added quickly, before Dad could draw us into more forced intimacies, “but I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Dad said. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was smiling at the fake.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll meet you at home.” I strutted across the floor to the cashier. He glanced back at me as I stood in line at the register. I waved the pack of gum in the air. I paid for it and the lipstick while Dad and the fake went back to making googly eyes.
I snapped the gum in my mouth while caressing the lipstick tube in my hand. It was encased in a plastic protective seal, a perforated strip running the length of it like a zipper. My thumb picked at the rim. All I had to do was rip it open and it would no longer be returnable.
But I really should return it. I’d promised myself I’d give up the greasy lip habit when we moved. It was a chance to start over, do everything new, and be a proper daughter with a proper father.
Hrumph. Like that was turning out. Dad wasn’t exactly holding up his end of the bargain.
My breaths came out short and rapid, like a panting dog. I didn’t realize how fast I’d been walking. I’d hardly taken in the tall palm trees that lined the road or the sweet smell of tropical flowers I didn’t know the names of.
No signs of autumn in sight. In Cambridge the leaves would be showing signs of turning color, bright reds and yellows. A little twist in my stomach. I was homesick.
And angry.
He was supposed to change, but not like that. He was supposed to notice me, spend time with me, not some flake called Spring. What kind of name was that anyway? It sounded like a made up actress name. Her last name was probably Storm or Wind. My thumb picked the plastic a bit more.
“Hi, there.”
I turned my head. Some guy riding a pink bike with a sparkly white banana seat and matching tassels that hung off tall, wide handle bars slowed down to keep pace with me.
“Hi,” he said again. This time there was no mistaking he was talking to me.
“Hi?” I said, not slowing down at all to do so. I may be entering my junior year, but I still didn’t talk to strangers. Janice, my babysitter/pseudo mom in Cambridge, had drilled that lesson into me good.
“My name’s Marco. I live next door to you.”
Okay. I slowed a little. “Why are you riding a girl’s bike?” Did he steal it? Why didn’t he care about how stupid it made him look?
“It’s my sister’s. I sold mine to buy something else, but riding this is better than walking.”
“I’m walking and you’re not making any better time than me.” I was annoyed. Why didn’t he just keep going? I preferred to sulk alone.
“You’re new, so I thought with school starting tomorrow, you’d like someone to ride the bus with.”
Good point. Who knew what kinds of Hollywood weirdos would be on the bus? I looked Marco up and down. He was average height, shaggy hair, and wore a graphic t-shirt and surfer shorts with fat, loosely tied skate shoes on his feet. No socks. He had nice, tanned skin and warm brown eyes that squinted to almost close when he smiled. He wasn’t hard to look at.
And he looked trustworthy enough, I guessed. Plus, he was right. I didn’t really want to go to Hollywood High alone.
I stopped and turned to him. “I’m Adeline Savoy.” I wiped the sweat on my right hand off on my skirt—sky blue, slightly flared and to my knees—and offered it wanting to start my new friendship off on the right foot.
“Cool,” Marco said as we shook. “You like to make things official. I like that.”
The sun must’ve glinted off the gold tube in my other hand because Marco nodded toward it. “What’ya got there?”
“Oh, it’s just lipstick. I bought it, but now I’m not sure. I might take it back.”
“I don’t know why girls wear that vile stuff,” he said. I was surprised by the strength of his statement.
“It makes us feel good. Pretty. What’s wrong with that?”
“For one thing, you’re already pretty without it.”
He thought I was pretty?
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s made out of horse urine.”
“It is not! That’s so gross.”
“It is. That’s why it has that sticky consistency. Have you ever seen dried urine around a toilet?”
“You’re disgusting! How would you know about lipstick, anyway?”
“I have three sisters, though one is only six years old and hasn’t discovered the evils of make-up and this culture’s drive to sexualize young girls. It’s too late for my older sisters, but you can still be saved.”
Who was this guy? And how did he get off talking to me like that? He didn’t even know me. I felt my lips settle into a tight line and my pace picked up.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
How long was he going to walk with me? “Where did you say you lived?”
“Right next door to you.”
“Right next door?” This annoying person, who happened to be my only friend, lived right next door?
“Yeah, the two storey. My bedroom window faces yours.”
“You see in my window!”
“No. I don’t…” His face flushed red.
“You do, you do look in. You peeping Tom!”
“Adeline, I didn’t see anything. I just heard your music.”
“Huh?” I stopped and spun to face him.
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And your singing.”
“What?” I was mortified. He probably heard me singing along to Feist, or even worse, he saw me doing my Michael Jackson impersonation. I bet he saw me doing the Thriller dance the other night. Ugh!
“Everyone can hear you. You have your window open.”
“You know what? Don’t talk to me.”
Marco seemed truly taken aback, and yet he didn’t get the hint. Not even one as direct as that. He was not only a peeper, but he was dense, too.
“I live in a house full of women. Three sisters and a mother. I get what’s going on here. It’s PMS, isn’t it?”
Was he kidding me? As if I would talk about something like that with him! I stopped and stared hard into his eyes. I produced my new tube of lipstick and slowly peeled the perforated strip, letting the plastic wrapper drop to the ground. I dramatically popped off the lid and twisted the base until the bright red dried horse urine was in full view.
Then I put it on my lips, slowly, purposefully, first the top and then the bottom, smacking them in Marco’s direction when I was done.
Take that, Mr. I Know Women.
Marco bent down, picked up the plastic wrapper and pushed it in his pocket. He straddled the bike and pushed off, turning back long enough to say, “I’ll pick you up at 8:10 tomorrow morning for school.”
Argh.
Those of you who read Elle’s first book, Clockwise, will be happy to know she’s released the sequel.
Sample Chapter:
Beginning of Summer Holidays
Sometimes I wished I were an only child. But then I’d be walking or taking transit instead of getting a lift from my brother Tim in his Cavalier beater. He didn’t have air conditioning either, and the wind blowing in from our open windows was hot and moist. The humidity made me feel like I was wearing a warm, wet washcloth for a shirt.
“Can’t you drop me off first?” I said, fanning myself with my hand. I was meeting my best friend Lucinda at the mall, and she only had a thirty minute break from her job at Forever21. Plus, the mall was air conditioned. Bonus.
“I gotta get some cash first. Besides, I’m not your personal taxi service, Casey.” Tim snarled, turning the volume up on his stereo. The bass beat was so loud it rattled the trunk. “Get off your lazy butt and get your license already.”
I gave him a dirty look and reached over to turn the music down. I had a very good reason for not getting my license, but I could never tell Tim or any member of my family what it was. There were only three people currently living who knew the reason. One of them was my boyfriend Nate Mackenzie.
My heart still fluttered a bit when I thought of him in those terms. My boyfriend. Not just some out-of-reach guy I crushed hard on my whole sophomore year, but my boyfriend.
We’d already been an official couple for an entire year, totally blowing all the doomsday predictions that we’d never make it. No one thought a college boy would stick it out with a junior in high school–especially Nate’s evil former girlfriend!
But he did, and we were still going strong. I’d be starting my senior year in a few weeks and then I’d join him at Boston University, too.
“If you dropped me off first, you wouldn’t have to deal with me,” I tried to reason.
“If I didn’t shuttle you around at all I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”
The only reason he did was because my parents were putting the screws in. Tim’s bad attitude, questionable choice of friends and poor grades put him in their bad books. Driving me around was penance.
He pulled into the parking lot of the bank and hopped out, leaving the car running. I reached over and turned it off. Idling the car was bad for the environment for one, and a waste of Tim’s hard-earned minimum-wage job gas money for another. You’d think he’d know better.
I checked the time on my phone and grew anxious as Lucinda’s break time grew nearer. Tim had his back to me as he stood in line at the ATM window. I looked at my reflection in the visor mirror. Since I’d grown out of my skinny awkwardness last year (and snagged a hot boyfriend), I was more mindful of my looks. Instead of trying to hide behind a bush of dark, curly hair, I used better hair products and found a great stylist, and I liked the way my curls framed my face now. I took a tube of lip gloss out of my purse and rolled it onto my lips.
I tugged on my shorts and rubbed my bare legs. They were so long, my knees almost touched the glove compartment. Height had its advantages, but getting comfortable in a small car wasn’t one of them.
I turned the radio on and hummed along. I daydreamed about me and Nate and how we could relax for the rest of the summer, hopefully stretching the lazy days out as long as possible.
I checked the time on my phone again and immediately started stressing about being late to meet Lucinda. C’mon, Tim! He was second in line now. I texted Lucinda to let her know I might be a little late.
I heard sirens and I perked up. This wasn’t the best neighborhood. The bank wasn’t huge, just tucked into a strip mall along with a nail place, a dollar store, and a thrift shop. Litter overflowed from the bin and a good amount had been blown up against the cement foundation.
I checked on Tim. He’d finally made it to the front, the last one in line. If I’d known it was going to take him this long, I would’ve run into the dollar store and picked up cheap nail polish.
The siren noise grew increasingly louder and suddenly three cop cars pulled into the parking lot beside me. My heart jumped, and I thought fleetingly that maybe Tim was in trouble with the law again. Only, he was getting money out of the ATM, not robbing the bank.
But someone was.
Everything happened so fast.
A guy with a ski mask pushed past Tim as he ran out the bank doors. A cop shouted, “Stop or I’ll shoot,” and another masked man followed. Guns went off. Tim stood there, stunned and frozen.
I heard myself shout, “Tim!” He was right in the middle of the cross-fire!
A police officer ran to him, pushing him to the ground just as the second armed man shot in their direction. The officer fell to the ground, taking the bullet instead of Tim.
The robbers ran around the corner and out of sight, chased by police officers on foot and a cruiser down the back ally.
I sprinted to Tim where he was on the ground by the fallen cop.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice tight.
His face was white, and he motioned to the woman beside him. “Yeah, but I don’t think she is.”
The officer moaned, holding her hand on her chest.
“Oh, ma’am, are you okay?” I searched for blood but couldn’t see any.
“I will be,” she said gasping for breath. “I have a vest on.”
Another officer kneeled beside her. “Ambulance is on its way.”
The woman had dark hair pulled back in a low bun. Her eyes stayed pinched together and her pale face glistened with sweat. The impact of the bullet was enough to do some damage. I picked up her police hat that had fallen off her head and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Just doing my duty.”
The ambulance arrived. The paramedics pushed us aside and lifted the woman onto a gurney.
The cop who’d checked her pulse stepped forward from his open door cruiser. Radio dispatch noises leaked out.
I watched the ambulance pull away, siren blasting, and realized I didn’t know her name. I asked the officer standing beside me.
“That’s Officer Clarice Porter,” he said. “Now, would you two mind coming with me to the station to file a report?”
We agreed, and I took my first ride in a police car. It was Tim’s second, but his first was not for noble reasons. He still claimed it was his friend Alex, and not him, who’d stolen the cigarettes from the convenience store.
A thought like a loud banner ran through my mind as the doors of the police cruiser slammed shut and we drove away.
Clarice Porter saved my brother’s life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Readers who ‘trip’ back in time with Casey will wish they could stay longer in her strangely relatable place.” – Kirkus Review
“I loved Clockwise! A great read. Congratulations.”
- Wendy Orr, author of Nim’s Island
Magan is a self-proclaimed geek-to-glam poster child who channels her inner geek by writing science fiction for teens, even though she slept with a night light until she was in middle school for fear of alien attacks. She now lives with her husband, daughter, and dog in central Illinois where she still sleeps with a night light…just in case.
You can find her online at www.maganvernon.com
The third book in my series, Driven, is now available as an ebook. I hope to have the print version out sometime in June. Haven’t read the first two books? No worries. Driven is more a companion book than a sequel and it works as a stand alone, though it shares characters with my other books. What’s it about? Read on.
~~~~~~~~~~
The last thing on 16-year-old Jess DeLand’s wish list is a boyfriend. She’d have to be crazy to think any guy would look twice at her. Besides, there are more important things to hope for, like a job working on cars and an end to her mom’s drinking. Foster care is a constant threat, and Jess is willing to sacrifice anything to stay out of the system. When luck hands her the chance to work on a race car, she finds herself rushing full throttle into a world of opportunities—including a boy who doesn’t mind the grease under her fingernails. The question is, can a girl who keeps herself locked up tighter than Richard Petty’s racing secrets open up enough to risk friendship and her first romance?
~~~~~~~~~~
“The first romance is captured beautifully—just the right combination of natural and awkward, of eager and scared.”
~ Bob Martin, writing professor, Pacific Northwest College of Art
Wanna help me spread the word? Tweet or post the following to Facebook for me :
DRIVEN by @Lisa_Nowak is now available! http://amzn.to/DrivenAmazon #NASCAR #Racing #YA #romance
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