Intoxicated by Books: Wildflower by Amy Jones

Wildflower

Amy Jones

Review copy provided by Books Complete Me

After you're done here be sure to visit the other blogs that are hosting Amy throughout the month! There are some giveaways involved :)

Nov 13- Globug and Hootie Need a Book and Books Complete Me

Nov 14- A Diary of a Book Addict

Nov 16- Britt Reads Indie

Nov 19- I Read Indie

Nov 20- The Autumn Review

Nov 21- Live to Read

Nov 22- My Pathway to Books

Nov 23- Wrathsqueen's Books

Nov 26- An Owl's Book Nook & Literati Literature Lovers

Nov 27- Fantasy Book Chic

Nov 28- Kimberly's Cozy Korner

Nov 29- Intoxicated by Books & Insane About Books

Nov 30- Amy Jones Young Adult Fantasy Fiction

Blurb:

Love can be tragic.

17th Century America:
A Shaman’s daughter falls in love with an Englishman,
only her hand has been promised to a warrior.

Tears fall.
Promises are broken.
Rage is unleashed.
Souls are bound or shattered.

Present Day:
Laney Stillwater dreams about a boy she has never met,
but she longs for the attention of the ever popular and gorgeous, Jordan Stone.

Time tempts change.
Destined souls awaken.
Love gets a second chance.
Souls are bound or shattered.

What will destiny offer this time?
Reconciliation or more despair?

Here is Chapter two if you choose to post it. I would like to only have a few blogs post this unless they are posting it in addition to another post.

Plymouth, Massachusetts

And a very special sneak peek at Chapter 2:

Fall 2011
Chapter Two

Jordan

I shuffled my feet more quickly as the late bell rang for class. The obnoxiously, blaring sound was a rude reminder of my inability to get to class on time. Fortunately, I had Mr. Falls for calculus this period and he would, no doubt, be attempting to flirt with Ms. Warner, the algebra teacher, in the hallway just outside the classroom. As I rounded the corner I confirmed my suspicions were correct, raced through the door and slid into my seat before Mr. Falls had the slightest clue.

“Pushing it a little close again aren’t we, Laney?” I heard a friendly voice tease as I settled into my seat.

I only smiled in return, guilty as charged. My junior year at Plymouth North High School isn’t panning out so great, not that I’d expected it to. No, I’m pretty much ignored by my peers and most of my teachers. It’s not so much that I’m disliked, I’m just, well, not the norm. I’m not rich, so I can’t claim any trust fund baby attention. My parents, Shane and Andrea Stillwater, are hardworking, middle-class folk. My mom is an accountant and my dad is the art teacher here at Plymouth North and, sadly, the only teacher in the school who acknowledges my efforts. I have no exceptional athletic abilities. In fact, I’m pretty pathetic with any sport that requires the manipulation of a ball, which is pretty much every sport. I’m just an average student, so you won’t find my name on the principal’s list. Not that I’m complaining, I don’t mind being average and blending into the drab beige walls of Plymouth North. In fact, I prefer it that way. Unfortunately, I’m not quite average or normal enough. You see, my mom is White but my dad is Native American and apparently, at Plymouth North, the in-crowd prefers a pure pedigree. In their eyes, I’m a freak. My people believe physical wellness and spiritual wellness are connected. By alleviating injury or sickness affecting the soul, you may restore the physical body to balance and wholeness. If I get sick my dad takes me to see my grandfather, our tribe’s shaman, and he heals me with his spiritual gifts. Needless to say, my peers find my tribe’s beliefs and practices to be a bit odd, so I’ve been labeled as the weird witch of the North, North Plymouth, that is. I’m not bitter, though… OK, I’m a little bitter, but I don’t feel sorry for myself because that’s just pathetic and I am not pathetic.

So, what motivates me not to jump off a cliff, you wonder? Well, first of all, my parents are pretty great. Yeah, I know, this is not exactly a normal sentiment for a teenager, but they don’t really bug me that much. Second, I’m pretty good at finding distractions. I love to draw and ride horses. When I get bored I can draw myself into a world that is much more interesting than my own or head out to my grandfather’s ranch and hit the trails with Bunny, my favorite quarter horse. Third, Carly Higgins, my best friend since kindergarten. Carly can always makes me laugh, even when I feel like crying. Last, but not least, Jordan Stone, a super-hot guy. We have English and Spanish together, and he sits right behind me in both classes. We talk and flirt and joke around and it subdues the monotony a little bit.

“So, do we have any plans for the weekend yet?” the friendly voice whispered as Mr. Falls entered the classroom three minutes after the bell finished ringing.

“I don’t know, Carly. I’m still kind of bummed about the last one,” I complained.

“All the more reason to put yourself back out there!” she encouraged, forever the optimist.

“Miss Higgins, do you wish to address the class this morning?” Mr. Falls interrupted.

“No, sir…” Carly frowned.

Mr. Falls nodded an unspoken warning to Carly and me and began his lesson. I was off the hook for now.

The day continued in its usual monotonous manner until fourth period English class. Jordan Stone is in this class.

“How’s it going, Stillwater?” Jordan smiled as he loped into the room and slung his book bag to the side of his painfully uncomfortable metal-and-wooden desk behind mine. He was dressed in worn blue jeans and a black T-shirt. His blond hair was tousled on top of his head from the recent sprint from his previous class. It still looked good. No, more like perfect. His green eyes pierced through me as his dimpled and gleaming white grin took my breath away. OK, stupid, it’s time to say something. What was it that he just asked me? Crap!

“Um, hey, I didn’t see you at Jessica Jacob’s party last weekend. Did you find something better to do?” I teased awkwardly, at a loss for words.

Jordan laughed, not missing a beat. I have no doubt he realizes that he drives me crazy. This can’t be healthy; still, I persist, being the masochist to love that I am.

“Nah, we heard it was gonna be lame so we crashed Gracie’s place instead. Her parents were out of town,” he replied nonchalantly.

Great! My favorite person, Gracie Henderson, Little Miss Perfect, weaseled her way into Jordan’s weekend effectively canceling me out. Gracie’s been getting one up on me more often than I care to admit these days.

“Oh, um, well, how was that?” I asked tightly, not wanting to show my annoyance and not really wanting to hear his reply.

“Awesome!” he nodded enthusiastically. “Everyone was there. Why didn’t you come? I missed you,” he said sincerely.

OK, this is an improvement. He noticed that I wasn’t there. Maybe he was looking for me. Maybe he had wished that I had been there. I looked up to see that he was staring at me and it finally dawned on me that he was waiting for my reply.

I straightened up and snapped out of my trance.

“Oh, well, you know, I didn’t want to let Jessica down. It was her birthday and all.” I explained lamely, not wanting to admit that I had not been invited, would never be invited, to a party being thrown by the one person who seems to hate me more than anyone else in the entire world.

I’ve often wondered what Gracie has against me. For the life of me I can’t come up with a single reason. I’ve never done anything to her. Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly why Gracie doesn’t like me, but it would not be politically correct to voice my opinion on this matter. I am, after all, already the underdog here. My father isn’t white, and this fact doesn’t sit well with some people. It really sucks and I wish everyone would just grow up and get over it. Well, no use crying about it, I guess. It won’t change anything.

Just as the bell was about to ring, the devil herself sashayed into the classroom.

“Hi, Jordan!” she squealed. “It was so great that you could make it to my party last Saturday. It was so much fun, wasn’t it? I mean, everyone who was anyone was there, right?” she droned on.

Don’t think I didn’t catch that last jab either. She eyed me meaningfully when she uttered it so sweetly.

“Oh yeah, man! Your party totally rocked.” Jordan nodded. “Let me know when you decide to play host again.” He winked before he shifted around in his seat to face Laura Rice. “Hey Laura,” he whispered, “did you finish you’re calculus homework last night? Can I copy it?” he grinned mischievously.

“Sure thing, Jordan.” She agreed easily, pulling her homework from her bag.

I bet Jordan has yet to do a single calculus assignment this year. As Jordan smiled at Laura, or her homework, Gracie’s expression fell. Her glance drifted to Laura and conformed into a scowl. Laura remained oblivious, still entranced by Jordan’s charms. Dang! Gracie must have it bad for Jordan to be jealous of Snora- Laura. We’re talking major borefest personality. Get a grip, Gracie!

OK, I know, that was mean, and being mean isn’t usually my style. Maybe Laura isn’t so bad, maybe she’s just shy. She’s good at calculus. There, I said something nice about her, so why do I still feel like a total hag? I don’t mean to be cruel; it’s just that Gracie always makes me feel like a loser. She thinks she’s better than me, so much so that sometimes I begin to feel like she might be right. She really gets under my skin, you know?

“So, Laney, how was Jessica’s party?” Gracie turned her venom on me.

Sure, her voice was friendly enough but her eyes held the paralyzing and hypnotic stare of a cobra ready to strike.

“Oh, it was great!” I smiled cheerfully.

I lied. Gracie rolled her eyes.

“Well, I heard it sucked!” she hissed, no longer attempting to hide her malice.

On that note, we all shifted uncomfortably in our seats and focused our attention toward the English teacher who was beginning the day’s lecture. Yet again, I was saved by the institution of public education.

After English class Jordan walked with me to our Spanish classroom. During our stroll he remained unusually quiet for about half the distance.

“So, Laney, do you have plans for this weekend?” Jordan voiced shyly.

OMG! He was asking me out! OK, take deep breaths and don’t pass out.

“Um, no?” I responded awkwardly.

I was completely caught off guard by his inquiry.

”Oh, well um, how would you feel about going to see a movie with me?” he continued.

“Great! What movie?” I agreed with out hesitation.

Only then did I realize that perhaps I shouldn’t sound so eager. My doubt was immediately remedied, however. As soon as my words were uttered, I observed Jordan’s shoulders and gait relax and return to his normal easy posture.

“Really?” Jordan breathed with relief and surprise.

“Um… Yeah, what movie?” I persisted, entirely surprised and thrilled by his reaction.

Surely, he knew I would say yes. What idiot wouldn’t?

“Awe, wow! I totally thought you would say no.” He continued to confound me with his delusional response. “I mean, I’m totally psyched that you want to go out with me. I’m just surprised, I guess,” he jabbered on, finally explaining his uncharacteristic behavior.

“Why?” I wondered.

“Because you never do.” He shrugged.

I raised another clueless eyebrow at him.

“You never say yes when guys ask you out,” he clarified.

“So, what, is this like an experiment or something?” I worried.

Get the freaky Indian girl to go out with you! Were they taking bets? Was money exchanged?

“No, I promise it’s not like that at all. I really like you, Laney. The truth is I’ve wanted to ask you out for a long time, but I didn’t because all the guys said you would say no. I was too chicken. You know, afraid of rejection?” he admitted sheepishly. I smiled, both satisfied and flattered by his response. Jordan immediately relaxed again and ran his fingers through his golden locks. “So, why do you always say no… to the other guys, I mean?” he wondered.

“Because I think they’re a bunch of creeps.” I answered honestly.

It’s true. Most boys at Plymouth North find me to be more than easy on the eyes, but I’m not easy, and I know their intentions don’t progress beyond their hormonally-driven male instincts. What I mean to say is, none of them would take me home to meet their mothers, if you can catch my drift. The sad fact is, my caramel complexion would not be overlooked or accepted.

Jordan’s shocked expression was so comical I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. At my knowing reaction he quickly and ever so smoothly collected himself.

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Maybe…” I said coyly.

Links for Amy Jones: