As of this morning (Thursday 5/9/2013) "my boys" are sitting at 1-2-3 on the Christian Fiction/Short Stories best-selling charts and essentially jockeying for position with each other. Many thanks to all who've worked to put them there and to the readers for buying.
Today, I thought I'd share another excerpt from an upcoming YA entitled "Ichabod & Penelope." (That being the story I'm currently working on.) If you missed it, the very first piece of the book is still on the blog. In that scene, the two main characters shared an amazing kiss, never mind they didn't know one another.
Today, we meet the actual faces behind the false names, Georgia Davis and Devon Walker. The thing is, neither one of them want to know that. For now.
Also, here's your first look at the book cover.
EXCERPT:
“So
you’re telling me you kissed some strange boy, who’d given you a false name,
just for the heck of it?” The lift of Heather’s eyebrows and bite of her voice
fully expressed her disbelief.
I
stuffed my sandwich in my mouth, thus rendering myself speechless.
But
she waited, her fingers tapping on the tabletop in a staccato rhythm.
I
gulped the bite down. “He was cute,” I said.
“Cute?
Antoine was cute, too, but I didn’t kiss him.”
Antoine.
Why’d she dig him up? That was tenth grade. I kept that thought to myself.
“He
asked.” I tried this angle, but she puckered her mouth, drawing up one side of
her face. Disbelief. She wasn’t buying it.
“Did
you at least get his real name?”
I
smiled. “Nope.”
Her
expression became yet more wide-eyed. “No? And you agreed to go out with him?”
I
grinned. I had, sans name.
“Friday,”
I replied.
“Georgia
Davis, you’re crazy. You cannot go out with a boy if you don’t know his real
name.”
“I
can and I will.”
She
smacked me in the forehead. “Knock some sense into that pretty noggin. He could
be a crazy pervert. He could have more girls than Satan’s got demons.”
I
scowled. She was ruining my good mood.
“Okay,
that was a bad analogy, but you know you’re inexperienced.” She sat back in her
chair, one arm over the ridge of the seat, and kinked her neck an inch or two.
“You liked him.”
Unabashed,
I gazed back at her. I had, immensely. He’d made me laugh.
“But
you need to date Thomas.”
“Thomas?
I don’t want to date Thomas. He’s …” How to say disgusting kindly? “Gross.”
“Gross,
but safe,” she said. “And dating Mr. Unknown is not safe. You need to call this
off.”
“I’m
not calling this off,” I said. “This is the best I’ve felt in ages, and you’re
only jealous because your last date was a complete bust.”
Gropey
McGroperson. That’s what she’d called him. All hands and fingers, picking at
her blouse, roaming everywhere.
“At
least with him I knew what he was about to do. With this guy, you don’t.
Besides, how are you going to avoid finding out his name? If he goes here,
someone will know him.”
I
took a sip of my drink, fiddling with the straw. “We thought of that. We’re
meeting at the gates and driving one town over.”
“You
planned it together?” She blew out a puff of air. “You’re crazy. After all the
stories on the news …”
“Oh,
come on!” I snapped, interrupting her. “You’re treating me like I’m some
nincompoop. I’ll be fine. I know how to say no.”
But
her return expression said she doubted it and more than that, that she was
worried. I couldn’t see why. It was only one date, one date I was going on whether
she liked it or not.
I
checked the time on my phone. “You’re going to be late for class.”
Her
face changed then from contemplation of my safety to complete panic. She
couldn’t afford to be late again. She shot up from the table, slinging her book
bag over her shoulder, and waved at me before she disappeared. I returned to my
sandwich.
I
had a date, an actual date, with a guy I couldn’t wait to go out with. So what
I didn’t know his name. He didn’t know mine either, and that was half the fun
of it.
I
couldn’t see as there was any harm. Heather was just being paranoid.
***
“Devon,
dude!”
Devon
pocketed his cell and looked for the person calling his name. His gaze landed
on Rory Hutchins’ bulging face, and a curse word fell out. Fortunately, if Rory
heard it, he didn’t respond or apply it personally.
“Saw
you this morning,” Rory said. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows upward, an
expression that made him look curiously like a turtle.
Devon
leaned his weight on one hip. “And?”
“And,”
he drew the word out. “You were sucking face with some babe.”
With
a roll of his eyes, Devon went back to his amble across campus.
Rory
skipped a step to catch up. “Well?”
“Well,
what?”
“Well,
who was she?”
Devon
stopped in place again. “Can’t say that’s any of your business.”
Rory
held his hands up, palms outward, almost dropping his books in the process. “Sorry.
Not stepping on your toes. What’s got into you today?”
He
was failing creative writing, that’s what, and didn’t know what to do about
it. Now, add to that Rory was annoying, and––
He
frowned. Frankly, kissing the girl had been the highlight of his day.
What
had possessed him to kiss her anyhow? Well, other than how tasty she looked. He
pictured her again, lying flat in the grass, her bum, her beautiful, rounded
bum sticking upward.
That’s
what he’d seen first. And in comparing hers to other girls, hers was far
superior. Hers was the kind you grabbed onto. Then she’d sat up and granted him
a fleeting glimpse of some very nice breasts.
Truthfully,
that was the sole reason, he’d approached. He’d simply had to talk to a girl
shaped like that. But something about the foolishness they’d played had sucked
him in. She’d laughed at his stupidity.
Ichabod
and Penelope. He smirked.
He
hadn’t decided to kiss her until seated on the bench. Then, having decided, he
couldn’t back out. He had to know if there were sparks.
Sparks?
More like fireworks. Best kiss he’d ever had in his life and that with a
complete stranger.
“You
gonna see her again?” Rory asked.
Devon
halted in front of the doorway to the next building. “I kissed her. Didn’t I?”
Rory’s
fat face split into a wide grin. “Yes, you did.”
He
turned his back on Rory and shoved his way through the heavy metal door then
down the long corridor toward the school library. Swinging inside, he glanced
around the room and his gaze landed on a face seated on the far side. Brad
Schmidt, long-time friend and fellow avid bicyclist.
Brad
raised his hand and waved. “Man, I thought you were gonna bail on me.”
Descending
into a chair, Devon gave a crooked smile. “Never.”
“‘Cause
if you’re bailin’ then I’m failin’”
Devon
shook his head and laughed. “Lame. Besides, you’d find me and hang me out to
dry.”
“That
I would.” Brad curved his fingers over the edge of his book and tilted his
head. “Wait. You look different. No, don’t tell me. I’m gonna guess.”
Devon
reclined in the chair, resting one arm on the table top.
“Maggie called. No. That’s not it.” Brad tapped the tip of his pencil on his
notebook. “She always calls. Think harder, Brad. Harder.”
Devon
snatched the pencil to silence it, leaving Brad’s fingers aloft.
He
flattened them to the table. “You got accepted in the bike race.”
“I
didn’t apply for the bike race. I didn’t want to get my butt kicked.”
He
held up his hand. “Don’t tell me yet, because I’m gonna figure it out.” Squinching
his eyes, he pursed his lips. “You have a date.”
Devon’s
mouth twitched.
“That’s
it! You do have a date. Devon Walker
has a date. Who? Spill!”
Reversing
the pencil, Devon shoved it back in Brad’s hand and reached for the Algebra
book.
“Really?
You’re giving me the silent treatment? All these months I’ve been trying to set
you up, and now you have a date, but you’re not going to tell me with who?
Fine. I’ll guess again. Is it Lindsay?”
Devon
flipped through the Algebra book to the page they’d left off on. “No.”
“Carol?”
“You
won’t guess, so quit trying, and you’re wasting study time anyhow.”
Brad
laid a hand on the open book to cover it. “I don’t care. This is more
important. At least, you can tell me if she’s hot.”
Devon
focused his gaze on Brad’s face. “She’s hot, and a very good kisser.”
Brad’s
eyes widened. “You kissed her already? So you’ve been out with her before?” He
sounded offended.
“Yes,
and no. In that order. Now, can we work?”
Brad
slid his hand off the book and reached for his pencil. “Just promise me, you’ll
hang onto this one and not freak like before.”
Devon
sighed. “I am a freak, but I’ve
reconciled myself to that.”
Brad
shook his head and rearranged his things. “One of these days you’ll stop being
so hard on yourself for something you had no control of.” He ran his finger
down the page and across to the assignment.
Devon
resisted the urge to pitch some sort of childish fit, instead exhaling slowly
until he’d run out of breath. Brad was right, of course, but what he didn’t
understand was how labeled it’d made him. And that was something he wanted no
more of.
-------------------------------
Suzanne D. Williams
Suzanne Williams Photography
Florida, USA
Suzanne
Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for
spelling anything, who happens to love photography.
Susette Williams Author, Jack Foster Illustrator
Susette Williams is a Best Selling Author. She loves writing various genres, both for children and adults. She usually can't resist the urge to let her ornery sense of humor shine through in one of her characters and has always believed that laughter helps you deal with the obstacles life puts in your way. Susette and her husband have six wonderful children, all with intriguing and different personalities, like the characters she creates in her novels.
Jack Foster has illustrated over 25 children's books. He is a Sunday school teacher, art teacher and the father of five terrific children and eleven wonderful grand kids. He lives just outside of Chicago with his lovely wife, dog and cat. Check out his work at www.jacksillustrations.blogspot.com
Follow Susette Williams
Website | Facebook | Twitter
