Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Blog Tour - Dirty Talk by Megan Erickson - Excerpt & Givaway

Title: Dirty Talk (Mechanics of Love #2)
Author: Megan Erickson
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Release Date: September 15, 2015
Source: ARC from Publisher
Buy the Book: Amazon / B&N / Indigo
When the one you shouldn’t want is the one you can’t resist…

Brent Payton works hard, plays hard, and has earned his ladies’ man reputation. But he’s more than just a good time, even though no one seems to see it. Until a gorgeous brunette with knockout curves and big, thoughtful eyes walks into his family’s garage and makes Brent want more.

Ivy Dawn and her sister are done with men, all of them. They’ve uprooted their lives too many times on account of the opposite sex, but that’s over now. The plan seems easy until a sexy, dirty-talking mechanic bursts in Ivy’s life and shakes everything up.

Brent can’t resist the one person who sees past his devil-may-care façade, and Ivy finds it harder and harder to deny how happy he makes her. But she has secrets of her own and when the truth comes out, she must decide if she’ll run again or if she’ll take a chance on forever.

In the last year and a half, Megan Erickson has easily become one of my favourite authors when it comes to New Adult and romance. Her books have yet to disappoint me, and with each one I read, I only love her stories more. Her latest, Dirty Talk, definitely kept up this trend.

Brent Payton has a reputation: everyone knows he’s a major ladies’ man and he’s not ashamed to admit it. Everyone knows he’s always in for a good time, but there’s more to him than that, even if his friends and family don’t seem to think so. And that’s fine with him, because until now nothing has made him want more. But that changes the day that Ivy Dawn walks into his family’s garage. There’s only one problem: Brent might want more but Ivy has sworn off men. But Brent is determined to win Ivy over. And after a while, Ivy is ready to take a chance on the person that might be here forever.

Let me start by saying this: if you love New Adult and romance and have not yet read anything by Megan Erickson, do yourself a favour and pick up one of her books ASAP. You won’t regret it. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about Dirty Talk. It sometimes feels like every time I read one of Megan Erickson’s books, it’s a new favourite. I just can’t get enough of her books. And Dirty Talk might just be the new contender for favourite Megan Erickson book. I devoured this story—like sat down and only got a up a few hours later when I was done reading kind of devoured. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop reading. There’s just something about those Paytons. To be honest, I would just keep reading about the—and their friends and family—forever. Especially if those stories feature Brent and Ivy because man did I love those two and their story. I knew going in that Brent’s story would be fun because he just seems like that kind of a guy, but there ended up being so much more to Dirty Talk. This story was fun for sure, but it was also heartwarming and at times even a little heartbreaking. And it put a big old smile on my face. Even if I was a little sad it was over, when I finished reading I just wanted to hug the book to myself (which I would have done if I wasn’t reading on a tablet). 

I would like a Brent Payton in my life. I don’t want to take him away from Ivy because they are so perfect together, but I still want one of him for myself. So if someone could make that happen for me, I would be forever grateful. Seeing as I pretty much want him for myself, it shouldn’t exactly come as a surprise when I say that I absolutely loved Brent. I already had a bit of a soft spot for him based on what I had previously seen of him in other books, and my love for him pretty much grew exponentially while reading Dirty Talk. There was so much more to him than the fun-loving manwhore everyone seems to think he was. And I loved every new side of him I saw. And every time he called Violet “Princess” my heart melted a little (and by that I mean, A LOT) and I couldn’t handle all the feelings. And Ivy was pretty much perfect for Brent. I loved that she saw him beyond what everyone else saw. That she encouraged him to go after what he wanted. And I loved how fiercely protective she was of her family, even if it meant putting her own happiness on hold. And Ivy and Brent were perfect together and I loved them. It should also be said that I loved seeing Jenna and Cal again and they made me laugh and gave me feelings. 

I LOVED Dirty Talk. I couldn’t get enough of this story and I loved every single moment of her. And as it always happens, I can’t wait to read the next book in this series. Also, if Megan Erickson wants to just keep writing books in the Mechanics of Love series forever, I will happily keep reading them. 


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Brent Payton wanted some decent music while he was working.
Not this pop-rock crap the radio had been playing but real rock ’n’ roll. Hell, he’d take George Thurgood right about now. Some “Bad to the Bone”? Hells to the yeah. That was better than a cup of coffee, which he could really use this Monday morning.
He’d volunteered to spring for an iPod and a docking station so he could play his own music, but his technology-inept father had acted like Brent wanted to buy a spaceship.
So that was out.
“Brent,” Cal’s voice called from the other bay of their garage at Payton Automotive.
“What’s this shit on the radio?” his older brother asked. “Turn it down before my ears bleed.”
Brent snorted. Cal was grumpy on a normal basis. But now that he’d quit smoking and wore a nicotine patch, he was even more insufferable. So Brent didn’t argue and turned down the music.
A truck rumbled into the parking lot, and Brent turned around, squinting to see who it was.
Alex Dawn, the new employee they’d hired a week ago, strolled into the garage, a bandana wrapped around her head, wearing baggy jeans and a tight T-shirt. She held a banana in one hand.
Brent grinned and walked over to where she stood outside the door to the office, looking over the schedule for the day. She peeled her banana and took a bite. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of estrogen in the morning.”
Her lips twitched only slightly before she turned around and socked him in the bicep, hard. The woman could hit.
He howled dramatically and clutched his arm, swinging it limply from the elbow. “I’m injured! I can’t work!”
While Alex gazed at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, he forgot about his injury, grabbed her banana, and bit off half of it.
“You asshole! That’s my breakfast!” Alex smacked him in the stomach, and he started laughing, nearly choking on the banana. “I’m so stealing the Snickers you keep hidden in the office.”
He straightened in shock. “You wouldn’t.”
She was smug, the witch. “I would.”
“That’s war, woman.”
She took the rest of the banana out of the peel and then tossed it so it landed on his shoulder. “Then don’t mess with my banana.”
“That’s some grade-D dirty talk,” he said, picking the peel off of his shoulder and throwing it in the trash can.
“Will you two quit it and get to work?” his dad, Jack, hollered, sticking his head out of the office door. “It’s like you’re related.”
Brent shrugged and walked over to the minivan to continue rotating its tires. Alex smirked at him from her bay. Brent winked back.
Working with Alex had been rocky at first. She had a chip on her shoulder—which she refused talk about—and Brent really enjoyed trying to knock it off, which only led to their sniping at each other. But when some asshole customer gave her a hard time because she was a woman, and she told him to shove it—Payton and Sons Automotive didn’t really have that customer-is-always-right policy—Brent developed a newfound respect for her. When Brent backed her up in front of said asshole, she began giving him some respect in return. And so they’d fallen into this brother-sister type relationship that was actually kinda fun. Brent didn’t really have friendships with women and especially not women he’d never fucked.
And the thing about Alex was . . . he didn’t want to fuck her. It wasn’t because she wasn’t hot, because she was. But the chemistry between them was . . . lacking. Which surprised Brent. Because he was like hydrogen; he reacted with everyone.
Brent worked quietly for the rest of the morning, singing to himself when decent music came on, taking care of the minivan before moving on to the next job.
He was draining oil from an old Toyota when he heard voices from the front of the garage. He spotted Dick Carmichael talking to Alex. She pointed toward the back room, where Cal had disappeared. The Carmichaels had been coming to the shop since before Brent had started working there. Dick was a retired accountant, and his wife still cut hair in an add-on at their house.
“Can I help you, Dick?” Brent asked as he walked closer.
The man turned to him. “Hey, Brent. Uh, no, that’s fine. I’ll just wait for Cal.”
“Oh, well if you need—”
Dick waved him on. “It’s fine. You can get back to work. I’m sure you want to break for lunch soon.” He patted him on the shoulder, like he was a kid, and chuckled. “Your dad always says that’s your favorite part of the day.”
Brent tamped down the irritation. First, whatever Cal could help him with, Brent could too. Second, yeah, Brent liked eating a hell of a lot, but that didn’t mean he didn’t do his job.
So he nodded and walked back to the Toyota. He didn’t look up when he heard Cal return, when Dick spoke with Cal about some work he wanted to do to his car—work that Brent would probably be assigned to, but he wasn’t Cal, the responsible one.
Nor was he Max, their younger brother, the first of them all to become a college graduate.
Brent was the middle brother, the joker, the comic relief. The irresponsible one.
Never mind that he’d been working at this shop since he was sixteen. Never mind that he could do every job, inside and out, and fast as fuck.
Never mind that he could be counted on, even though no one treated him like that.
A pain registered in his wrist, and he glanced down at the veins and tendons straining against the skin in his arm, where he had a death grip on a wrench.
He loosened his fist and dropped the tool on the bench.
This wallowing shit had to stop.
This was his life. He was happy (mostly) and free (no ball and chain, no way), and so what if everyone thought he was a joke? He was good at that role, so the typecasting fit.
“Why so glum, sugar plum?” Alex said from beside him as she peered up into his face.
He twisted his lips into a smirk and propped a hip on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I knew you had a crush on me, sweet cheeks.”
She narrowed her eyes, lips pursed to hide a smile. “Not even in your dreams.”
He sighed dramatically. “You’re just like all the ladies. Wanna piece of Brent. There’s enough to go around, Alex; no need to butter me up with sweet nicknames—”
A throat cleared. And Brent looked over to see a woman standing beside them, one hand on her hip, the other dangling at her side, holding a paper bag. Her dark eyebrows were raised, full red lips pursed.
And Brent blinked, hoping this wasn’t a mirage.
Tory, Maryland, wasn’t big, and he’d made it his mission to know every available female in the town limits and about a ten-mile radius outside of that.
This woman? He’d never seen her. He’d surely remember if he had.
Gorgeous. Long hair so dark brown it was almost black. Perfect face. It was September and still warm, so she wore a tight striped sundress that ended mid-thigh. She was tiny, probably over a foot smaller than he was. Fuck, the things that little body made him dream about. He wondered if she did yoga. Tiny and limber was his kryptonite.
Narrow waist, round hips, big tits.
No ring.
He smiled. Sure, she was probably a customer, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d managed to use the garage to his advantage. Usually, he just had to toss around a tire or two, rev an engine, whatever, and they were more than eager to hand over a phone number and address. No one thought he was a consummate professional anyway, so why bother trying to be one?
He leaned his ass against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?”
She blinked, long lashes fluttering over her big blue eyes. “Can you help me?”
“Yeah, we’re full service here.” He resisted winking. That was kinda sleazy.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they shifted to Alex at his side and then back to him. Her eyes darkened for a minute, her tongue peeked out between those red lips, and then she straightened. “No, you can’t help me.”
He leaned forward. “Really? You sure?”
“Like, how positive?
“I’m one hundred percent positive that I do not need help from you, Brent Payton.”
That made him pause. She knew his name. He knew he’d never met her, so that could only mean she’d heard about him somehow, and by the look on her face, it was nothing good.
Well, shit.
He opened his mouth, not sure what to say but hoping it would come to him, when Alex began cracking up next to him, slapping her thighs and snorting.
Brent glared at her. “And what’s your problem?”
Alex stepped forward, threw her arm around the shoulder of the woman in front of them, and smiled ear to ear. “Brent, meet my sister, Ivy. Ivy, thanks for making me proud.”
They were both smiling now, that same full-lipped, white-teethed smile. He surveyed Alex’s face and then Ivy’s, and holy fuck—how did he not notice this right away? They almost looked like twins.
And the sisters were looking at him now, wearing matching smug grins—and wasn’t that a total cock-block? He pointed at Alex. “What did you tell her about me?”
“That the day I interviewed, you asked me to re-create a Whitesnake music video on the hood of a car.”
He threw up his hands. “Can you let that go? You weren’t even my first choice. I wanted Cal’s girlfriend to do it.”
“Because that’s more appropriate,” Alex said drily.
“Excuse me for trying to liven it up around here.”
Ivy turned to her sister, so he got a better glimpse of those thighs he might sell his soul to touch. She held up the paper bag. “I brought lunch; hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Alex said. “Thanks a lot, since someone stole my breakfast.” She narrowed her eyes at Brent. Ivy turned to him slowly in disbelief, like she couldn’t believe he was that evil.
Brent had made a lot of bad first impressions in his life. A dad of one of his high school girlfriend’s had seen Brent’s bare ass, while Brent was lying on top of his daughter, before the dad ever saw Brent’s face. That had not gone over well. And yet this impression might be even worse.
Because he didn’t care about what that girl’s dad thought of him. Not really.
And he didn’t want to care about what Ivy thought of him, but, dammit, he did. It bothered the hell out of him that she’d written him off before even meeting him. Did Alex tell her any of his good qualities? Like . . . Brent wracked his brain for good qualities.
By the time he thought of one, the girls had already disappeared to the back room for lunch.

“Do you think we hurt his feelings?” Ivy picked at a stray piece of lettuce hanging out of her sandwich.
She didn’t meet her sister’s eyes, not even when Alex started making choking sounds across from her at the small table in the back of Payton and Sons Automotive.
“E-excuse me?” Alex stuttered.
Ivy bit her lip and lifted her gaze to her sister’s. Alex had talked a lot about Brent, and while there was an underlying platonic affection to her words, most of her talk was complaining about how much of a pain in her ass he was. Maybe Alex hadn’t been looking at Brent close enough during their conversation out in the garage, but Ivy had been. She’d noticed the flash of frustration over his face when they’d shut him down.
What made her pause was that it seemed like frustration directed at himself, not at her.
Crap. Ivy dipped her gaze back to her sandwich. This would not do. She and Alex had basically stamped a big red X over all dicks—literal and figurative—for a good long time. They’d already moved twice to get away from men who had ruined their lives. Tory was supposed to be where they settled in, got their lives straight, and raised Violet.
Ivy’s defense mechanism was to immediately be cold to Brent. She could have gotten bees with honey, but she didn’t want bees. Or honey. Or whatever. So she was all stinger.
She and Alex didn’t need men. The two of them and Violet would be just fine.
And yet at this moment, Ivy couldn’t stop thinking about Brent. Alex hadn’t warned her that he looked . . . like that. Like six-feet, two-inches of hotness straight out of a Mechanics of Your Dreams calendar. Jesus. That dark hair, those full lips that smirked, those slate eyes that did nothing to hide the fact that this man was trouble with a capital T.
“Iv-eeeeee.” Alex drew out her name in that way only big sisters could do when they planned to interrogate.
Ivy poked the wheat bread of her sandwich. “What?”
“Why are you concerned about Brent’s feelings?”
She didn’t know. Honestly and truly, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t forget that momentary flash of emotion that passed over his face before he covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know; he’s your coworker and—”
“I know he’s basically sex on legs, Ivy, but he knows it. And I’d be hard-pressed to find a woman who hasn’t taken a ride in this town.”
Ivy pressed her lips together, chastising herself for letting her soft heart show. She needed to focus on finding a job and raising her daughter. Those were her priorities. Not going toe-to-toe with some cocky hot guy. “You’re right; forget I said anything.” Ivy held up her index fingers and crossed them in an X. “No men.”
“Ick,” Alex spat.
“Gross,” Ivy said.
Alex grinned at her, and Ivy returned it, sipping from her iced tea. “So, work going okay?”
“Yeah, I like it here. Cal’s fair. Brent’s fun to work with. Jack’s still a hard-ass but I think he’s warming to me.”
Alex had told Ivy that Brent and Cal’s dad was a brick wall of gruff and stubborn. “Good.”
“Violet off to school okay?” Alex asked.
Ivy’s daughter was in first grade at White Pine Elementary School in the Tory school district. They’d moved in time for her start at the beginning of the school year. “Her teacher called me again, saying Vi cried on and off this morning.” Ivy knew moving was hard on her, but they hadn’t had much of a choice. “I hate this.”
Alex squeezed Ivy’s hand where it rested on the table. “It’s school. You’re not torturing her. She’ll get used to it.”
Ivy’s stomach rolled, thinking about it. “I hope.”
“She’s a good kid. She just needs time.”
Ivy sighed. “I guess.”
“Alex,” a deep voice said from the doorway. Ivy craned her head to see a man who looked a lot like Brent but . . . wasn’t Brent.
“Yeah?” Alex answered.
The man nodded at Ivy. “I’m Cal.” He turned to Alex. “Sorry. I know you’re eating lunch, but got that customer of yours out front from last week. I tried talking to her, but she likes you better.”
Alex laughed. “Greta Sherman?”
“That’s the one.”
She balled up her empty sandwich wrapper. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” she said to Ivy.
Ivy looked down at her half-eaten lunch. “I can leave—”
“Nah, I’ll be right back. You finish eating.”
Alex tossed her trash into the can on the way out.
Ivy took a sip of her tea and picked at her sandwich. She’d spent all morning on the computer, applying for jobs in and around Tory. It wasn’t necessarily a mecca of job opportunities, but Alex had found a place she fit in, and the pay wasn’t bad. Ivy had some savings, but it wasn’t going to last forever, and she wanted to pull her weight in the little family they’d created.
Her résumé was a bit slim. She had a high school diploma but no college degree, having spent her early twenties raising Violet. Her job options in Tory were working as a secretary for a lawyer, selling furniture at a department store, or being a nanny.
None was appealing.
But at least they all paid.
The chair across from her squeaked, and she lifted her gaze, opening her mouth to tell Alex about her job options.
Except Alex wasn’t sitting across from her.
Brent was.
He leaned back in his chair, feet up on the table and crossed at the ankle. He held a packet of peanuts and tipped it so a couple fell into his mouth. He chewed, steel eyes on her.
She clenched her jaw shut.
He swallowed. “You looked like you were going to say something.”
“Sure I was. To Alex. But you’re not Alex.”
“No, I’m not. But I’m a great listener.”
“I’m sure,” she said drily.
His lips quirked. “Want to hear about what other things I’m good at?”
“Not particularly.”
“Because I can do this thing with my tongue—”
Good God. “I don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?”
She waved a hand between them. “This. Flirting.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Babe, I haven’t even begun to flirt.”
She took a deep breath to calm her rising blood pressure. “Don’t do that either.”
“Jesus! Now what?” His exasperation might have been cute if she still had a heart.
“My name is Ivy. I-V-Y. Three letters. Two syllables.” Even she wanted to cringe at how much of a bitch she was being.
He was studying her now, his face a little less amused and more . . . thoughtful. She didn’t like thoughtful Brent. Amused, flirting Brent? Harmless. Thoughtful Brent, who tried to look deeper? Dangerous as hell.
He ran two fingers over his lips and then dropped his hand to the table, cocking his head. “You’re just thorns everywhere I touch, aren’t you?”
She froze at his words, like a deer in headlights because yes—yes, she was a whole lot of thorns because she’d learned long ago they were necessary to protect all her soft parts.
Brent wasn’t done, though; his voice was softer when he spoke again. “You born that way, or something make you that way, Ivy?”
She swallowed. Yep, Brent Payton was dangerous in a sexy-as-hell package. His words were seeping past those thorns, hitting all the spots where she was weak. So she gathered herself and clenched her fists at her sides. “You’re just acting like this because I’m the first woman who hasn’t fallen at your feet.”
He laughed at that. “Fallen at my feet? Nah, there are plenty of women who’ve told me to go to hell. My percentage is good, though. Maybe eighty-twenty.” He grinned that shit-eating grin. “But you got me curious now. I wanna keeping prodding until I find a place that isn’t a thorn. How long do you think that’ll take me?”
Shit, no; that’s exactly what she didn’t want. With those eyes that were smart and trouble at the same time.
She swallowed and straightened her spine. “You’ll never get close enough.”
He cocked his head. “No?”
He hummed a little and leaned back in his chair again. He threw a peanut in the air and caught it in his mouth. Then he chewed, with those steel eyes daring her to look away. “Guess I gotta plan my attack better next time, huh? You better work on those defenses.”
She heard Alex’s voice as her sister made her way back to the lunchroom. Ivy smiled and lifted her chin. “Who says I’ll be the one who needs defense?”
He laughed sharply, like he was surprised. “Oh, babe, bring it.”
She gritted her teeth. “Ivy.”
“Babe. I call it as I see it, and you’re definitely babe.”
Ivy growled.
He smiled, and then he was up out of his chair and walking out the door as Alex made her way in. Her eyes trailed Brent as he retreated to the garage.
Alex turned to Ivy, eyes concerned. “Was he bothering you?”
Bothering didn’t even touch it. “No, he’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Alex shrugged. “I can talk to him—”
“Alex, I swear, it was nothing, and even if it was, I could handle it.”
Her sister eyed her and then stole a bite of her sandwich. “Fine; now eat. You’re getting skinny.”
“Quit mothering me.”
Alex pointed to the sandwich with raised eyebrows, and Ivy glared at her as she took a bite.
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Friday, September 25, 2015

What We Saw by Aaron Hartzler

Title: What We Saw
Author: Aaron Hartzler
Publisher: HarperTeen
Release Date: September 22, 2015
Source: ARC from Publisher
Buy the Book: Amazon / B&N / Indigo
Kate Weston can piece together most of the bash at John Doone’s house: shots with Stacey Stallard, Ben Cody taking her keys and getting her home early—the feeling that maybe he’s becoming more than just the guy she’s known since they were kids.

But when a picture of Stacey passed out over Deacon Mills’s shoulder appears online the next morning, Kate suspects she doesn’t have all the details. When Stacey levels charges against four of Kate’s classmates, the whole town erupts into controversy. Facts hat can’t be ignored begin to surface, and every answer Kate finds leads back to the same question: Where was Ben when a terrible crime was committed?

This story—inspired by real events—from debut novelist Aaron Hartzler takes an unflinching look at silence as a form of complicity. It’s a book about the high stakes of speaking up, and the razor thin line between guilt and innocence that so often gets blurred, one hundred and forty characters at a time.

Some books are hard to read for the best kinds of reason: they deal with difficult subject matter, they tackle issues that make readers, and often society as a whole, uncomfortable but still need to be talked about. One of those books is Aaron Hartzler’s What We Saw.

Kate has trouble remembering exactly what happened at John Doone’s party that Saturday night. She remembers doing shots with Stacey and she remembers Ben making sure she got home safe that night. The rest is all a little fuzzy. But when she sees pictures of Stacey passed out at the party, Kate starts trying to figure out what went down after she left. When Stacey levels sexual assault charges against four of her classmates, Kate knows something definitely happened the night of the party. But despite the mounting evidence against the four boys, everyone seems to think what happened was all Stacey’s fault. Kate doesn’t know how to make sense of it all. And through it all she can’t help but wonder where Ben, the boy who’s been her friend since they were five and who’s finally becoming more, was when all this happened.

I’m surprised I haven’t seen more people talking about Aaron Hartzler’s What We Saw. Because this book more than deserves to be talked about and I can only hope I can do it justice in this review. Here’s the thing about this book: it deals with rape and it won’t be for everyone. But this story was important even if it wasn’t always an easy one to read. In fact, there were moments while reading that I felt physically sick. But that’s because the story was so well written and everything about it felt incredibly real. And the way What We Saw was told made it all the more powerful. This is the story of a girl accusing four basketball players of raping her in a small town where the high school basketball players are kings. And as a result, the majority of the town is in an uproar about this girl harming these poor, talented boys’ futures. Just writing that sentence makes me want to scream, but sadly, that’s the reality we live in. It’s wrong on so many levels that in many cases of sexual assaults people are willing to defend the aggressors and blame the victims. It’s something you see everywhere, and, sadly, it’s something you see even more of when there are athletes involved. What We Saw brings attention to this and for that reason, it’s an important story. And all that is something that bothered Kate, the main character, as well and as a result it makes getting answers about what happened really difficult. That’s what really made this story so powerful for me: the fact that sometimes all it takes it one person fighting for the truth to get other people to see it.

From the start, Kate was an easy character to like. And the more of her story, the more I liked her. But as much as I, as a reader, liked her, she didn’t really have an easy go of it in her small town as the story moved forward. Having this story told from Kate’s point of view offered some interesting insights. For the most part, Kate was just as drunk as Stacey, the girl who got raped, the night of the party. But because she had a certain reputation and people viewed her in a certain way, she had someone who made sure she was safe. And I think that’s what makes this story the much more powerful. Kate wants answers not just because she’s a decent person, but because she feels like what happened to Stacey could have easily happened to her. Because that night, the only difference between them was that Kate had someone looking out for her while Stacey was dressed “provocatively.” And that brings me to Ben. Every step of the way, much like Kate, I hoped that Ben had nothing to do with what happened to Stacey. Every time Kate asked him about it, I felt relieved when he was able to explain things away. Much like Kate, I wanted to believe him. But something always felt a little off no matter I wanted him to be clear of everything. I just wanted to live in denial of him being possibly involved in any way. Because he came across as a genuinely good guys. But appearances can always be deceiving.

What We Saw was an absolutely fantastic job. It was a powerful story and one that will make you think long after you’re finished reading. Aaron Hartzler did a fantastic job writing a gripping story that will make you uncomfortable while also making you want to tell everyone about it.

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Thursday, September 24, 2015

Tonight the Streets Are Ours by Leila Sales

Title: Tonight the Streets Are Ours
Author: Leila Sales
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Release Date: September 15, 2015
Source: ARC from Publisher
Buy the Book: Amazon / Book Depository / Indigo
From the author of This Song Will Save Your Life comes a funny and relatable book about the hazards of falling or a person you haven’t met yet.

Seventeen-year-old Arden Huntley is recklessly loyal. Taking care of her loved ones is what gives Arden purpose in her life and makes her feel like she matters. But she’s tired of being loyal to people who don’t appreciate her—including her needy best friend and her absent mom.

Arden finds comfort in a blog she stumbles upon called “Tonight the Streets Are Ours,” the musings of a young New York City writer named Peter. When Peter is dumped by the girlfriend he blogs about Arden decides to take a road trip to see him.

During one crazy night out in NYC filled with parties, dancing, and music—the type of night when anything can happen, and nearly everything does, Arden discovers that Peter isn’t exactly who she thought he was. And maybe she isn’t exactly who she thought she was, either.

This is where I admit that despite having copies of all her books on my shelves (some of them for YEARS), Tonight the Streets Are Ours was the first of her books that I read. And I had high hopes for it. Though those hopes weren’t exactly met, I still found myself loving this story.

Arden Huntley is keeping her family from falling apart after her mother left. That’s who Arden’s always been. She takes care of the people around her and she will be loyal to a fault. But always being the one to take care of everyone gets to be tiring and Arden can’t help but feel like her friends and family don’t love her as much as she loves them. When she stumbled on a blog called “Tonight the Streets Are Ours,” Arden immediately connects with the writer and becomes captivated by Peter’s story. So when Peter’s girlfriend breaks up with him, Arden decides to drive to New York City to see him. For one night, Arden gets to do something for herself instead of worrying about everyone else. And during that one night, Arden will discover so much about herself, her family, and the boy she traveled to see.

I’m a little ashamed to admit that despite having owned many of her books for quite some years, it wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that I finally read a book by Leila Sales. Honestly, I don’t know why it took me so long. Two years ago, I was really excited about This Song Will Save Your Life, but somehow never got around to reading it despite having been told by lots of people that I should read it. But I decided to finally get my act together and read one of her books. And so I read Tonight the Streets Are Ours. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t have high hopes for it. Because I totally did. And some of those hopes were absolutely met. And others, took on an unexpected form. All together, it make for a reading experience. But one that was still really enjoyable. I guess the main thing that was different than I expected where Tonight the Streets Are Ours is concerned is that the love story was not what I thought it was going to be. I was totally expecting something romantic to happen between Arden and Peter. And that’s not really what this story was about. Instead, it was more about falling in love with yourself. Which is a great message, just not quite the one I was expecting.

I loved seeing the growth and character development in Arden as I read through the story. It made me appreciate her that much more. And her journey from someone who focuses on others more than on herself to someone who finally learns to put herself first was a great one to see. It definitely wasn’t without its obstacles. And for a good chunk of the book I just wanted to tell her to do what she wanted, not what she thought she wanted or what other people wanted her to do. I just wanted her to stop putting so much unnecessary pressure on her shoulders. And Ioved when she started letting go. Even if letting go meant getting somewhat obsessed with someone she’d never met (though, really, haven’t we all sort of been there, in a way). And I’m not going to lie, I became a little obsessed with Peter, too. I loved getting to read his blog posts and finding out him that way. And much like Arden, I had trouble reconciling the Peter from the blog, and the Peter she actually met. To be completely honest, I didn’t really much care for the “real Peter,” I liked “blog Peter” a whole lot more. But that showed just how much social media allows us to be someone completely different from the person we really are.

Even though it wasn’t quite the story I thought it was going to be, I still really enjoyed reading Leila Sales’s Tonight the Streets Are Ours. It was an interesting story with an unexpected twist on the romance. And it reminded me that I have lots of Leila Sales books sitting on my shelves that need reading.

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