And a very good day to y'all! Today I've got something special up my sleeve. It's a book feature from YA author, Mari Mancusi. She's making her rounds on the CBLS book tour. You all know that I love some good YA, so let's see what Skater Boy is all about:
Title: Skater Boy
Author: Mari Mancusi
Publisher: NLA Digital Liaison
Platform LLC
Length: 50,000 words
Sub-Genres: Contemporary, Young
Adult (YA)
BLURB:
Dawn
Miller is sick of being good. Her parents have scheduled her to
within an inch of her life and her popular friends can only think of
hooking up and shopping. She's ready for a serious boyfriend, and
it's definitely not the obnoxious rich boy everyone wants her to
date.
Then
she meets Starr, the headmaster's punk rock daughter who refuses to
play by the rules. The differences between them are night and day but
Dawn is fascinated. Starr introduces her to a world she didn't even
know existed: hip indy record stores, all night raves, and cute
skateboarders who hang out underneath a parking deck downtown.
Skateboarders
like the gorgeous Sean, who's sweet, smart, and curiously serious
--everything Dawn's always wanted in a boyfriend. Soon she finds
herself head over heels and doing the unthinkable, lying to her
parents and friends. Deep down she knows her parents will never
approve of this boy from the wrong side of town...and her secret life
is finally catching up to her. Will Dawn be forced to choose between
the girl she was and the girl she is meant to be? And if she chooses,
will she lose her skater boy forever?
"Mancusi
has scored a hit. Dawn is likeable, and any teen girl--wealthy or
not--should identify with her typical problems. From boys to friends
to parents, the author covers it all. She even manages to include one
or two deeper messages in the form of "straight edge" teens
and a "perfect" wealthy boy who turns out to be a real
jerk."--
Alexandra Kay, RT Book Reviews
Excerpt:
“Hey,
that’s pretty good!”
I
look up with a start. I’ve been so wrapped up in my world that I
hadn’t realized the new girl, the supposed Satan-worshipper who
drinks snake blood, has sat down at the desk beside me and is eyeing
my paper.
Up
close, I realize she has several piercings to go along with her
already punk-rock look—a diamond stud in her nose and a silver hoop
embedded in her eyebrow. Her face is pale white, almost as if she’s
powdered it, and her eyes, a striking blue, are rimmed with a ton of
black.
“You
read my poem?” I ask, feeling my cheeks flush. I mean, sure, I
realize that if I win the poetry contest lots of people will end up
reading it, but still, her peeking over my shoulder without
permission seems a grave invasion of privacy. And what if she goes
and tells everyone that I, Dawn Miller, friend of the Ashleys, was
seen writing poetry in detention? I might as well put in my
application for the loserville lunch table right now.
Then
again, she said it was good. Since I’ve never shown my scribblings
to anyone before, I’ve never gotten an unbiased opinion on them. I
mean, sure, I like them, but obviously I’m a bit prejudiced.
“Are
you just saying that?” I ask. “ ’Cause you so don’t have to.”
She
shakes her head, causing her straight black hair to flip from side to
side. “No way,” she says. “I never say things I don’t mean.
Life’s too short.” She pauses, then adds, “I was assuming it’d
be bad, actually. But I guess you can’t judge a Barbie by its
cover.”
I
frown. “I’m not a Barbie.” I just hang out with them. She
shrugs. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Honestly, I don’t
care either way. But you are a good writer.”
A
good writer. She thinks I’m a good writer. No one’s ever told me
that before. I feel a warm pride settle over me and I decide to
ignore the Barbie comment. Or at least prove her wrong.
“Thanks,”
I say. “There’s this poetry contest I want to enter it in and—”
“Oh,
the one in Faces?”
I
stare at her in shock. “How do you—?”
“I
read Faces all the time. It’s a great mag.”
Wow.
She actually reads literary magazines. My friends wouldn’t be
caught dead reading literary magazines. In fact, we have a saying: If
it’s not Cosmo, it’s crap.
“I’m
Dawn,” I say, extending a hand.
“Starr.”
She shakes my hand. I notice she has on black fingernail polish
that’s half flaked off.
Starr.
What a cool name.
“You’re
the headmaster’s daughter, right?” I ask, assuming at least that
part of the Satan-worshipping, snake-eating rumor is true.
“Yeah.
Got kicked out of my European boarding school and so I’m stuck in
this hellhole now.”
Wow.
I wonder what she did to get kicked out. It had to be something
pretty bad, I’d think. What would it be like to be a bad girl? Not
to care what people think of you? To break the rules and buck
authority? I bet her parents don’t dare schedule her life. And if
they try, she probably laughs in their faces and then goes out and
gets a new tattoo, just to spite them.
“.
. . and first day here, Sister Wart Nose catches me smoking in the
bathroom and sentences me to detention,” Starr is explaining. “I
mean, for smoking! In Europe, everyone our age smokes. Massachusetts
is so puritanical. It drives me absolutely insane.”
I
nod sympathetically, not sure how to respond. Of course I’m not a
smoker, so I can’t relate. But suddenly, I have the undying urge to
impress her somehow. Make her see I’m more than just an airhead who
happens to be able to write. Which is odd, since most people at
Sacred Mary’s do everything in their power to try to impress me and
my crowd, not the other way around. But Starr doesn’t seem to care
that I’m one of the Populars. On the contrary, that status seems a
negative in her book. Which makes her seem even cooler, somehow.
“That
ring rocks,” I say at last, noting the silver spider on her index
finger. One thing I’ve learned from the Ashleys—when stuck for
something to say, compliment their wardrobe. Works every time.
She
smiles and waves her hand in the air, allowing the ring to catch the
light and sparkle. Evidently even punk rock chicks aren’t immune to
flattery. “Thanks. I got it at this really cool thrift store in
Boston.” She pauses for a moment, as if deciding something. Then
she says, “You know, I’m planning on heading there after
detention, if you want to come.”
I
raise my eyebrows. “You’re going to Boston? How are you going to
get there? Do you have a car?”
“Nah.”
She shakes her head. “I’m only fifteen. No license. But there’s
a train about a block away.”
She
planned to hop a train? I try to imagine what The Evil Ones would do
to me if they found out I’d hopped a train to the big city. Would
they kill me quickly or devise a slow, torturous death to make sure
I’m really, really sorry I disobeyed?
“Come
with me!” Starr says eagerly. “I know some killer used record
stores.”
I
shake my head. “I’m already missing gymnastics ’cause of
detention. My parents will totally kick my butt if I miss my Japanese
tutoring as well.”
Starr
raises a pierced eyebrow. “Oh,” she says, her tone a bit colder
than before. “I understand.” But she doesn’t sound like she
understands. In fact, she sounds more like she thinks I’m the
lamest girl on the planet.
Boring
Barbie, that’s me.
It’s
so not fair. I never get to do anything fun. Run off to the big city
on a whim. I suddenly envy Starr and her laissez-faire attitude on
life.
Envy
her and want to be her.
Maybe
I could call my tutor and tell him I’m sick. And then call The Evil
Ones and tell them I’m going over to one of the Ashleys’ houses
to work on a class project after my lesson. That should buy me at
least ’til nine o’clock. Plenty of time to hit Boston and get
back before they realize I’m gone.
I
feel a strange thrill well up deep inside. You know what? I’m going
to do it.
For
once, I’m going to be a bad girl.
“Maybe
I will go to Boston with you,” I say, trying to keep my voice
casual as my excitement takes hold. “Sounds like fun.”
BUY LINKS:
Also
available on iBooks
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Two
time Emmy award winner Mari Mancusi used to wish she could be a
vampire back in high school. But she ended up in another bloodsucking
profession--journalism--instead. Today she works as a freelance TV
producer and author of books for teens, including the award winning
Blood Coven Vampire series published by Penguin Books. When not
writing about creatures of the night, Mari enjoys traveling, cooking,
goth clubbing, watching cheesy horror movie and her favorite guilty
pleasure--videogames. A graduate of Boston University, she lives in
Austin, Texas with her husband Jacob, daughter Avalon and dog
Mesquite. You can find her online at www.marimancusi.com.
And don't forget to check out Mari's other blog stops! You can find them
here.