Becca Hanson was never able to make sense of the real world.
When her best friend Charlotte died, she gave up on it altogether. Fortunately,
Becca can count on her books to escape—to other times, other places, other
people...
Until she meets Max Herrera. He’s experienced loss, too, and
his gorgeous, dark eyes see Becca the way no one else in school can.
As it turns out, kissing is a lot better in real life than
on a page. But love and life are a lot more complicated in the real world...and
happy endings aren't always guaranteed.
The companion novel to Love and Other Unknown Variables is
an exploration of loss and regret, of kissing and love, and most importantly, a
celebration of hope and discovering a life worth living again.
Barnes & Noble Buy Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/life-after-juliet-shannon-alexander/1122537767
iBooks Buy Link: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/life-after-juliet/id1065470169
Kobo Buy Link: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/life-after-juliet
Entangled Publishing: http://www.entangledpublishing.com/life-after-juliet/
Blurb? Love'em or Leave'em?
Leave ‘em!
I’m a terrible blurber. Is
that a word? Whatever. I’m no good at it. Even back in middle school, I
remember getting so frustrated when I’d have to summarize something I’d read.
Brevity is not my thing.
Thankfully, Entangled
Publishing has a brilliant team member who writes their blurbs. I fill out a
worksheet with short excerpts and favorite lines, and then from that, the blurb
artist (because you have to be an artist to blurb things well) does her work
and makes my book sound wonderful in about two-hundred-fifty words. It’s
amazing. I think it’s a superpower. She’ll be the next Avenger. Just you wait.
Back when I was querying
literary agents, I spent about six months whining about writing query letters
(which are basically blurbs with fancy names) before I actually sat down and
tried writing one. And then it took another six months to get the thing right!
I remember being absolutely thrilled when my lovely agent told me I didn’t have
to write the query for submissions to publishers. I didn’t even care if that
was her delicate way of telling me that I stunk at it.
So, no. I’m not a blurber.
But thankfully, there are people who are, and I’m forever indebted to them.
I’m
not sure how long I’ve been back in school. I don’t really do days anymore.
Time is measured in pages. I’ve read 3,718 pages since Dad dropped me off on
the first day. It’s been 108,023 pages since Charlotte died. I’ve read 150
pages since I stepped on the bus this morning. It’s been ten pages since I
thought of Charlotte.
She’s
not coming back, and I don’t know what else to do, so I keep turning the pages.
However
long I’ve been back at Sandstone High, the advanced literature and composition
teacher, Mrs. Jonah, informed me yesterday that I am no longer allowed to “sit
like a bump on a log, reading books” in her class. I find this strange, but
then, I don’t understand the real world. I’ve given up trying to make any kind
of sense of it. Today in class, I am sitting like a bump on a log, staring out
the window.
Sandstone
is a typical high school, unlike the fancy math and science school on the other
side of town that Charlie graduated from last spring. It’s the kind of building
that’s been pieced together—add a wing here, convert a gym there, dump mobile
units here—throughout the decades as the town’s population grew and it had to
be quickly expanded. There’s no one defining style. It’s a mishmash. The kids
who go here are also diverse, so it’s not hard for me to fade into the
background.
Lit
and Comp is a junior course. The guidance counselor signed me up for it at the
end of last year. She described it as a lively class full of opportunities for
personal and artistic growth. In other words, it’s my worst nightmare. I’ve
decided growth is overrated.
Mrs.
Jonah’s classroom is long and narrow, with a wall of windows down the side.
She’s decorated the wide windowsill with spindly spider plants, stacks of
books, empty vintage Coke bottles that catch the sunlight, and a bust of Sir
Isaac Newton, which is strange since she’s not a science teacher.
Mrs.
Jonah raps on her desk now to get our attention. She stands and brushes
invisible lint off her black pencil skirt. Tall and unafraid of wearing high
heels, she towers over everyone in the school, even the basketball coach. Her
pixie haircut and makeup are always perfect. She’s the most with it human
I’ve ever seen.
“Time’s
up,” she says. “Please, pass your quizzes forward.”
I’ve
been done with my quiz for what would have been about twenty pages, if reading
were still allowed in Lit class. I pass my paper to the boy in front of me. He
runs his hand through his choppy black hair and smiles. His lips are chapped,
and the smiling pulls the raw skin too tight. It makes me wince. I instantly
feel bad, because I remember this guy.
Max.
He was in Mr. Bunting’s World History class with Charlotte and me last year. He
was the only student at Sandstone who spoke directly to me after Charlotte
died. He came right up to me in history, cleared his throat so I’d look up from
my book and said, “Sorry for your loss.”
I
remember I got up and left the room. It was either that or start crying.
He’s
still looking at me now. I should say something, something nice, like “Thank
you for your condolences.” Instead, I look out the window again.
Max
sighs, soft like the riffle of book pages, as he turns around and passes our
quizzes forward. I’m used to that sound. It’s the sound of my father when I
refuse to put my book down and come join my mother and him. The sound of my
mother when she realizes I’ve been listening to the book characters in my head
instead of her. Lately, I’m really only safe lost in the pages of a book.
Outside, in the real world, it’s like I’m walking around with no skin. Everything
hurts.
Shannon Lee Alexander is a wife and mother (of two kids and
one yellow terrier named Harriet Potter). She is passionate about coffee,
books, and cancer research. She spent most of her time in high school hiding
out in the theater with the drammies and techies. Math still makes her break
out in a sweat. She currently lives in Indianapolis with her family.
Author Website: http://www.shannonleealexander.com
Author Twitter: @shanlalexander (https://twitter.com/shanlalexander)
Author Facebook: Shannon L Alexander (https://www.facebook.com/shanlalexander/)
Author Goodreads: Shannon Lee Alexander (https://www.goodreads.com/shannonleealexander)
Thank you for hosting me today!
ReplyDeleteThank you for hosting me today!
ReplyDeleteI am so excited to read this book. Of course I would star in a play. I am not a shy person. (jozywails@gmail.com)
ReplyDeleteI'm super excited about reading this because it sounds like such a great read! And yes, I would definitely star as the lead in a play, but I know I'd be afraid of forgetting my lines lol
ReplyDelete