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Publication Date: November 4th
I'm so thrilled to be able to do a cover reveal for Aimee Salter's new book, BREAKABLE, a young adult, magical realism novel. Aimee has a fantastic blog that I've been following for quite some time. She is amazing, and I wish her the best of luck with her book launch!
And now, BREAKABLE…
When seventeen-year-old Stacy looks in the mirror she can see and talk to her future self. “Older Me” has been Stacy's secret support through the ongoing battle with their neurotic mother, relentless bullying at school, and dealing with her hopeless love for her best friend, Mark.
Then Stacy discovers Older Me is a liar.
Still reeling from that betrayal, Stacy buries herself in her art. But even that is taken from her when her most persistent tormentor uses her own work to humiliate her – and threaten her last chance with Mark.
Stacy’s reached breaking point.
Literally.
Aimee is giving away one signed and inscribed paperback and two e-books. Winners will be drawn, one from each outlet listed below, on Friday, October 11th. Winners will be announced on Aimee's blog on Monday, October 14th.
There are three ways to win:
RULES:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aimee L. Salter is a Pacific North-Westerner who spent much of her young (and not-so-young) life in New Zealand. After picking up a Kiwi husband and son, she’s recently returned to Oregon.
She writes novels for teens and the occasional adult who, like herself, are still in touch with their inner-high schooler.
Aimee is the author behind Seeking the Write Life, a popular blog for writers at www.aimeelsalter.com. You can also find her on Twitter (www.twitter.com/@AimeeLSalter) and Facebook (www.facebook.com/AimeeLSalter).
Aimee’s debut novel, Breakable, releases November 4th for Kindle, Nook and in paperback. You can add Breakable to your to-read list on Goodreads at http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377058-breakable
EXCERPT:
As soon as I stepped inside the door of Mark’s house, I knew something was wrong. The open entry hall with immaculate white walls and wood-flooring echoed silence. Not the soft, easy quiet that came when someone was home alone and happy. But the tense, brittle hush that signaled a barely-maintained truce falling on the heels of all-out war.
If Mark hadn’t been in here somewhere, I would have turned and fled.
Three paces inside the door, I slowed to a stop. If things had gone wrong with his dad, Mark might not be in his room after all. Or his dad might kick me out if he hadn’t had his fill of whaling on Mark. But someone opened the gate to let me in, so…
“Up here.”
Directly in front of me, a wide flight of stairs rose to the second level of the house. I caught sight of Mark just as he turned and disappeared around the corner towards his room.
This was bad.
I swallowed hard and ran up, ears perked for any footsteps behind me, or voices rising.
Nothing.
I topped the stairs, jogged around the corner and down the hall to Mark’s room.
Downstairs the house was shiny and cold – like a showroom out of an architect’s portfolio. But upstairs the hardwood floors gave way to carpet, the walls were dotted with family pictures, and the many, many bedrooms leading off the hallways on both sides of the stairs were awash with comfortable quilts and plump, soft furnishings.
When they moved in I’d told Mark it was as if they’d taken his mother’s house and sat it on top of his father’s, then linked them by a stairway.
Mark hadn’t laughed.
His room was three doors down, on the left. The door was open. I slipped inside and closed it behind me.
I barely registered the posters on the wall, the large screen in the corner, and the carpet strewn with gaming controllers.
Mark sat on the bed, head in his hands. His fingers made claws in his sandy-brown hair. He still wore the light-blue polo shirt and jeans he’d had on at school, despite a dark smudge on his shoulder.
The knot in my stomach tightened. I walked across the deep carpet to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, laid a tentative hand on his back and swallowed hard. Mark was trembling.
“What happened?” It wasn’t any mystery who’d upset him this way.
“I told Dad about the competition.” Mark’s voice was hard. Rough.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head to his firm shoulder.