Blog Tour Stop: The Day I Met Suzie

I  was lucky enough to receive an advanced copy of The Day I Met Suzie a couple of weeks ago, after reading the blurb and immediately becoming intrigued. I am a huge fan of contemporary fiction and fiction that deals with real life problems. 

I know that a lot of my blog readers are also fans of realistic young adult fiction and so I'm very glad to be able to introduce you to this new book through a guest post from the author, Chris Higgins. 

Here, Chris gives you some insight into her latest book and the effects that debt has on the young.

“The Day I Met Suzie” is about a 17 year old college student called Indie who gets into debt through no fault of her own. As she struggles to manage her finances she falls into the clutches of a loan shark. Soon her life is turned upside down and she finds herself in a new and terrifying underworld governed by fear and threats. In despair, Indie rings the Samaritans and tells the person on the end of the phone the whole sorry story, which unfolds in retrospect.Her story could happen to anyone. Indie is just an ordinary girl though she has more going for her than most. She’s from a stable family, has a boyfriend she loves, is popular, highly motivated and focused, and has a part-time job to help finance her studies. But even she, with all her advantages, is easy prey for loan sharks and the other scum who prey on the young and inexperienced.Debt is a massive problem for young people today but the government seems to be ambivalent about it. On the one hand it wants our youth to get qualifications, to have careers, to be responsible and independent members of society. On the other hand, it positively encourages them to take on massive loans in order to achieve these ideals. No wonder young people are confused. From talking to the Samaritans, Indie realizes that they hear stories like hers all the time and  she gains perspective on the chain of events that led her into this mess. Through desperate measures of her own, she eventually finds the strength to extricate herself from the potentially tragic situation she has fallen into.Not everyone is as strong or as fortunate as Indie. That’s why I wrote this book.

I'd like to thank both author Chris Higgins and the publisher of the book, Hachette, for providing me with this exclusive guest post. I hope it's given you all some insight into this book and made you want to give it a go!

The Day I Met Suzie by Chris Higgins is released on 7th March 2013 in the UK

Blog Tour Stop - North of Nowhere Guest Post

North of Nowhere Blog Stop!

Last year I was introduced to Liz Kessler's writing when I read and enjoyed her standalone book, A Year Without Autumn. I received some lovely news when I found out that Liz will be releasing a second standalone book, North of Nowhere. Liz has very kindly provided a guest post for me to share with you, something which will surely pique your interest of her latest book. Here is what Liz would like to share with you:

I’m really excited to have been invited onto this blog to tell you about my new book, North of Nowhere.

One reason I’m excited is because, even though this is my tenth novel to be published, it’s only my second ever standalone book – which means that when I tell people about it, I can actually say ‘I just wrote this book – buy it,’ as opposed to ‘I just wrote this book, but don’t buy it, buy the one I wrote five years ago so that if you like it, and all the others in between, then when you get round to reading the one I just wrote, it’ll make more sense.’

As you can see, the first of these statements is much quicker to say, and the chances are slightly higher that the person I’m talking to will still be listening to me by the time I’ve finished, and won’t have glazed over, wandered away or wished they hadn’t got stuck in the corner with me. But it’s also exciting for me because I think that your latest book is always the one you’re most passionate about at that time, and I love the fact that everything I want to say about it doesn’t depend on people already being familiar with anything that came before it. It’s out there all by itself, waiting to stand or fall on its own merits and flaws. And I’ve always admired anyone who does that.

So, because you don’t have to know anything about anyone in order to read this book, I’m thrilled to get the chance to write a guest piece on this lovely blog and tell you a bit about it.

So, now I’ve got the chance what do I want to tell you about it?

Well, the first thing is that, like A Year Without Autumn, which came out in 2011, this book features a timeslip situation. I’m a massive fan of time travel stories, and luckily I’ve managed to persuade my publisher to let me write three of them. Yay! Lucky me! The first one was about a girl who saw something pretty awful in her future and knew she had to go into her past and change one particular moment so that the future might turn out differently. 

North of Nowhere looks at time travel in a different way. Rather than switching time zones to change anything, this one is about characters whose present day actions affect their past as much as their future. It’s about looking at time as more of a circular entity, rather than a linear one. It’s about getting to know someone who you thought you already knew, by meeting them at a different point in their lives from their present day self. It’s about disappearance – of people, of towns, of whole lives. And it’s about coming together afresh with the knowledge you’ve gained along your journey.

I guess at the heart of it all, it’s about the kind of thing I always find myself writing about without realising it. I think I’m writing books about mermaids and fairies and time travel, but over and over again I discover that I’ve written about the things that really truly matter to me. I never, ever intend to do anything other than tell the story and be true to my characters, and I never consciously have ‘themes’ in the books. But time and again, once I’ve written the books, I discover that they are there (usually when someone points it out to me) and they’re always the same type of thing.

Family, friendship, love, loyalty. The things that are actually at the heart of my life and matter to me the most. They always manage to sneak in there when I’m not looking!

Also, like many of my books, this one is about discovering things about yourself and others that you never knew – or perhaps things you always knew deep inside but never really acknowledged until certain events make you face up to them. 

But anyway. Never mind the themes. First and foremost, it’s about the story. It’s about a girl, Mia, whose grandad has gone missing, and who has to go with her mum to a village in ‘the back end of nowhere’ to try to find him. It’s about Mia finding an escape through a new friendship, until she discovers that there’s no way her new friend can actually exist. It’s about a whole chain of events that gets more mysterious and more impossible at every turn. It’s about coming to terms with the fact that all the solutions and answers to the questions can’t possibly be real – even though they are. It’s about paradoxes and mysteries and good old-fashioned adventures.

At least, that’s what I think it’s about. But I’m only the author. I’m sure that now it’s published, it won’t take long for someone to point out what it’s really about. Until then, I’ll leave it up to you to decide for yourself…

Thank you so much to Liz for taking the time to write this piece, and also to Orion.

NORTH OF NOWHERE by Liz Kessler is published by Orion Children’s Books on 24 January in hardback at £9.99

Orion are also currently running a North of Nowhere creative writing competition to celebrate young talent. The competition is open to all writers aged 8-13 who need to finish the story (the opening paragraph of NORTH OF NOWHERE) in 500 words or less. 

Entries are open from 17 January 2013 – 28 March 2013. The winner will have their story published on the Guardian Children’s Books website, will win a digital camera as well as £100 worth of Orion Children’s Books for their school library.

Click here for more info: http://www.guardian.co.uk/childrens-books-site

Blog Tour Stop - The LOVE HURTS Tour

Love Hurts Blog Stop!

The first blog tour that has stopped by my blog this year is the Love Hurts Tour which I'm very excited about!

The Love Hurts tour is a tour to promote two books, Easy by Tammara Webber which was released in the UK on the 3rd January, and Reason to Breathe by Rebecca Donovan which will be released on 17th January!

These look like they're going to go down a treat in the YA world, so I'm very happy to be able to feature them - they've already been raved about by US readers, so now it's the UK's turn!

Today I'm able to share two exclusive guest posts from you, one from each author, discussing the issue of using romance to tell a story with darker/serious issues.

Easy - Tammara Webber: 

I’ve loved romance novels since I was fifteen and my best friend shoved one into my hands – coverless, so our mothers wouldn’t know what we were reading. Though my bookcase contains treasured classics, literary fiction, and ‘problem’ novels (commonly Young Adult), I still prefer to read love stories and happy endings. All novels contain conflict, of course, or they’re just boring narratives of people going through their happy and/or dull lives. But there’s a difference between a conflict within a romance (two characters who fight falling in love because of a gap in social status, for instance) and placing a tough issue (like domestic abuse or suicide) at the heart of the novel. 

I never thought I’d write a problem novel, until I realized I could wrap a love story around the issue I wanted to address. Where most problem novels have the issue itself as the main focus (romance – if included – playing a secondary role), my goal in Easy was to keep the focus on the romance, with the issue of acquaintance rape as the underlying tension. I wanted an almost equal balance between the two. For some readers, the issue is so subtle that they don’t seem to notice it– the story is all about the romance, and/or the hot guy. I also hear from from readers who’ve dealt with sexual assault, directly or in support of a friend, sister or daughter, or those who feel empowered to take steps to protect themselves against becoming a rape statistic. My hope is that these reader responses show that equilibrium between romance and issue.

Reason to Breathe - Rebecca Donovan: 

When creating the story that became Reason to Breathe, it was the love that came first. I discovered these two characters, Emma Thomas and Evan Mathews, who were in love, but something was keeping them from completely being together. It was a secret that Emma kept from him and prevented her from letting him in. I knew it had to be a secret that she thought would destroy both of their lives if he were to find out. Something that she could conceal and that most wouldn't suspect due to her perfect grade point and excellence in sports. I decided that this secret would be that she was the victim of abuse. I worked with troubled teens after I graduated college, and I knew how it would alter her personality, making her withdrawn, which would force Evan to want to know her that much more. 

Unfortunately, in reality, abuse isn't addressed enough. Too often people turn their heads and ignore what may be going on behind closed doors. I knew this topic was going to be sensitive, but I wanted it to touch every reader who came across it. Love is the one thing that Emma needs most, but because of the emotional and physical abuse she doesn’t feel worthy of it.  Whether it’s romantic love, the love of a friend, or love for oneself, love is life-changing.  But Emma has to decide if embracing that love is worth risking everything.

Thank you to Tammara, Rebecca and Penguin for allowing me to share this post with you!

Pick up a copy of Easy now and Reason to Breathe on 17th January!

Blog Tour: Irresistible - A Guest Post from Liz Bankes

It's fair to say that this has been the year of rather steamy reads - they have been very popular and many of us have decided to branch out into this growing genre.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the slightly younger audience had been forgotten about... that is until now! Liz Bankes has released a fantastically sexy new book, aimed at the Young Adult audience, which I'm very excited about. 

To get a taste of this new book, Liz Bankes has very kindly provided us with a guest post, telling us who she would cast as the main characters in her story... enjoy!

Casting the Irresistible girls 

In the tradition of Dawson’s Creek and many high school movies, I am going to be lenient with age and allow people in their twenties to play sixteen-year-olds. 

Mia is spending her summer waitressing and dreaming of travelling. She’s been enjoying getting to know funny workmate Dan, but can’t get bad boy Jamie out of her head. 

Played by Kathryn Prescott

Kathryn Prescott played Emily in Skins so I picked her because I think she is awesome and was part of one of my fave tv couples ever, Naomi and Emily. I also think that she could pull off Mia’s mixture of shyness whilst having a dry sense of humour and being fun. 

Gabi is Mia’s best friend. She is massive in terms of personality and boobs, a bit mad and very loyal. 

Played by Chelsee Healy

Chelsee played schoolgirl Janeece on Waterloo Road and I think she would have right combination of bubbliness, ditziness and fierce loyalty to play Gabi. She then went on Strictly Come Dancing, which Gabi would definitely do, if only to meet famous people. 

Beautiful, privileged and a bit frightening, Cleo is Jamie’s girlfriend. 

Played by Jessica Szohr 

Jessica, who plays Vanessa in Gossip Girl, has the exotic, stunning look I imagined for Cleo. She’s also spent enough time around Blair and Serena to learn about being a bitch. And she went out with Chuck Bass in real life so knows how to handle her bad boys. 

-------------------------------------------

Irresistible is by Liz Bankes and published by Piccadilly Press. The book will be published in print on 25th April 2013, but is available in eBook format now!  

Blog Tour: Losing Agir Extract

Today I'm going to introduce you to a book called Losing Agir by an inspiring new author, Liz Fisher Frank. Losing Agir is a book which deals with real, serious issues of today and it was published yesterday, on Human Rights Day. A percentage of the royalties will be donated to a young people's advice service, Youth Access. This really is a thought provoking story, for a good cause, and I'm so glad to have had the opportunity to provide you with an extract from the story.

 I truly hope that this encourages you to pick up a copy of the book.

Prologue

Ormanici, Turkey. 5am. 20 February.

The sudden thunderous crackle of machine gun fire slicing through the still, early morning air, wrenched the boy from his sleep. He bolted up without thinking, his hands mechanically pushing at the mound of blankets which, until seconds ago, had shielded him and his younger brother, Haran, from the cold. As his hands fumbled, he swung his head towards the space where his parents slept either side of his sister.

But his father was ahead of him, already scrambling to his feet. For a second their eyes met. The panic, terror and confusion he found in his father’s face shot a jolt, like an electric current, through his whole body.

‘Up... get...’ His father’s words were lost, hijacked by a second round of gunfire, louder, sharper than before. The boy’s eyes stuck firm on his father’s mouth as it opened and shut pointlessly, spewing out only the terrifying sound of ammunition.

The hut rocked. A row of bullets hit the outside wall, one after the other, crashing against the stone not far above their heads. He understood his father’s efforts. They needed to move. Fast. Stumbling to his knees, the boy pulled at his younger brother who remained rigid under the covers, his small hands stuck to his ears, his eyes shut tight.

‘Move,’ his father screamed over the noise. His mother jumped to her feet, grabbing Sema, his little sister and wrapping her in her arms before staggering towards the kitchen area of the hut. A fleeting flicker of relief swept over Sema’s small bewildered face as mother’s embrace, for a moment, made everything in her small life good again.

‘Haran,’ the boy shouted at his brother as he reached for the younger boy’s stiff shoulders. ‘Get... ‘ A deafening blast lifted him from his feet and hurled him, like a tennis ball, through the air until he landed hard onto his brother’s small body. Sounds, so loud, so foreign to any he had heard before, reverberated through his head as stones and rubble crashed onto his skull and back. Dust clogged his nose as he lifted his head and tried to breathe. Though his ears were caked in dirt and debris, a high pitched wailing scream of pain made its way into his head.

The boy turned, managing to shake the rubble from his back. He got to his knees and saw sky through the wall of the hut which had caved in on them.

The welcome touch of his father’s arms pulled at him, removing him from his brother whom he had somehow protected by the cover of his own much larger body. Taking one arm each, they yanked Haran into the kitchen to join his mother and sister huddled together in the corner of the room. 

‘What’s happening...?’ the boy asked helplessly, crammed in the corner beside his mother, brother and sister as his father pathetically tried to shield them with his thin body.

The door burst open, kicked in by a man wearing white camouflage gear. As he waved his machine gun wildly, he shouted something over his shoulder and three others, all dressed the same, carrying guns, stormed into the hut.

‘Out. Now,’ the man at the front shouted, pointing the gun at the family. As he spoke, a soldier from the back of the group marched forward and grabbed his father’s hair, pulling him across the floor towards the broken-down door.

‘Move,’ the front man shouted as the family quickly clambered to their feet and left the hut, by gun point, into the freezing air of early morning.

Within seconds, the boy’s thin bedclothes and socks failed to fight the cold, intensified by the snow which had tumbled relentlessly overnight on to their mountain village. He stared as he passed the remains of their neighbours’ hut. The rocket propelled grenade had done its job. The roof destroyed, the walls razed to the ground, rubble and smoke everywhere. He heard his mother gasp and watched as she pushed Sema’s head firmly into her chest. His eyes followed his mother’s stare to see white soldiers pulling their wailing and screaming neighbours away from a mound on the ground which he struggled to make out. He gulped, swallowing hard at the vomit which shot to his mouth as he realised the mound was the body of Sema’s best friend, lying in the ruins with half her stomach blown away. Her broken body lay shattered in the precise spot where the two girls had played the evening before.

‘Move’ the soldiers shouted as the boy, with a tight hold of his brother’s hand, took in the devastation. Soldiers, guns, chaos everywhere as doors were kicked in and bewildered villagers hauled out of their homes at gun point. The mountain air stank of burning, as flames worked their way through both homes and corpses, swallowing up horses, dogs and precious village livestock shot at point blank range and left to burn with the buildings.

They approached the village square.

‘Over there.’ As his father was dragged off in another direction, they were pointed towards a group of women and children huddling together.

‘Quickly... move,’ the men shouted, waving their guns trying to get heard over the screaming and crying, gunshots and flames. The boy stumbled with his mother and siblings, through the slushy, wet snow, the cold wind smacking him hard in the face, like some bad-tempered old man, perversely enjoying the contribution to his pain. They reached the group of terrified women and children, clustered together in a silence which screamed of despair.

‘This one’s too old.’ A voice shouted as a soldier marched over. ‘Put him with the men.’

A firm hand grabbed the boy’s arm and tugged him hard. The boy pulled back, but the grip tightened as he was wrenched from the group and dragged towards the village square. He stumbled and fell. A heavy boot landed hard in his ribs. As he clambered back to his feet, he twisted his head to look back at the women and children, scanning the group for his family.

As Haran and Sema hung to each other, their white faces dazed, his mother held out her arms, as if trying to gather him back, to return him to her embrace. Their eyes met, she screamed.

‘Agir... ‘

Chapter 1

Jupiter Mansions. It hardly looked like a mansion, more a small, newly built box in a cul-de-sac. And it certainly wasn’t anywhere near Jupiter, it was only two miles from town.

‘Are you sure about this Frances?’ I asked.

A look of irritation flickered over her social work smiley face. I knew I’d annoyed her. My voice, the words I used, the way I was slouching in the front seat of her clean, sparkly car.

She pulled up outside number 37.

‘Of course. Tom and Glenda seem really nice and the fact that they’re new to fostering is a good thing. You’ll get loads of attention.’

I remained slumped in my seat. I didn’t really want to get out. All my excitement at the thought of this move, another fresh start, seemed to be evaporating fast; seeping out of the car and vanishing into the clean, perfect air of the clean, perfect cul-de-sac where clearly nothing ever happened. I fiddled with the hole in the knee of my scruffy, worn jeans, enjoying the feeling of the threads as they ripped under my fingers.

Frances lent over, a fixed smile caked across her face. ‘OK then? Shall we go?’

I turned my head towards the window, closing my eyes really tight, trying desperately to stop the tears that I knew were there, hanging about, waiting for their chance to break free. The dull feeling in my stomach, which had started after breakfast, had worked its way upwards sometime during the journey. It now stuck in my throat, somehow sucking all the moisture from my mouth. It always made me feel like this, going somewhere new.

‘Alice?’ Frances repeated.

I didn’t speak, scared that my shaky voice would give me away. And then, Frances would be on my case. Going on about how lucky I am that she found me this home, that other kids would jump at this chance, that I ought to be more thankful. Frances glanced over as I let out a long sigh and wondered why I should be grateful when none of it was my fault. I never chose a life in care and certainly never opted to move from foster home to foster home, wondering each time if this would be ‘the one’, the one that lasted.

‘It really is time to go,’ Frances snapped, checking her watch as she started to get out of the car. She flicked back her long brown hair which she tended to do, almost twitch-like, when she was stressed and hurried, which was always. ‘I’ll grab your bags.’

I slowly unclicked my seatbelt, the last bind holding me back from an unknown life waiting behind the shiny red door of number 37. I climbed out of the car.

Frances pulled two bulging bin bags from the boot mumbling an apology for forgetting a suitcase. ‘Right, this way, come on.’ She thrust one of the bags at me then hurried down the driveway, stumbling slightly in her high heels as the bin bag, which looked ready to split, bashed against her legs. ‘I think I got the bag with your books in, you know.’ She called over her shoulder through gritted teeth before swearing quietly to herself as she almost toppled over. ‘Isn’t it pretty though,’ Frances said in a super-cheery voice as she dropped the bag by the front door and pointed to the perfect daffodils, perfectly spaced in perfect rows. I nodded just about resisting the temptation to stamp on them and pummel their sunny, yellow petals into the ground.

As Frances turned and knocked, the door immediately sprung open.

‘Hello, welcome, I’m Tom.’ A large pale man lunged at me with his fat hand outstretched. As Frances gave me a glare, silently telling me to get on with it, I limply shook the sweaty hand of my new foster father. He then smiled down at me, his small, brown, stained teeth out of place in his wide mouth. He pushed back a strand of light brown hair as it fell over his pale eyes which were almost invisible against the colour of his skin.

‘Come in, come in,’ he ushered us into the hallway, giving me the chance to wipe my sticky hand down my jeans. A woman approached from the kitchen.

‘This is Glenda,’ Tom said as Glenda nodded at me then quickly stood behind her husband who towered over her. Like the house, Glenda was small and tidy. Her dark hair pulled back in a bun, her skirt and shirt, plain, dull and boring. She was probably only in her thirties but dressed like one of those old grannies you see on TV who shuffle around in cardigans, thick tan tights and checked slippers and talk more to their grossly over-fed cats than their depressed-looking husbands.

Tom led us into the sitting room just off the hall. I glanced about quickly, not sure that a scruffy tom- boy like me would ever fit in to such an immaculate room. Glenda quietly offered me a drink and I followed her past the brown sofas and small dining table, into the kitchen.

‘Will water do?’ she asked, her voice flat, as she reached into a cupboard where gleaming glasses waited in lines.

‘Fine,’ I mumbled taking in the kitchen which looked more like a showroom. Clear surfaces, shiny units, a kettle that sparkled. So often, during the chaos of the past, I had longed for a life like this, so different, so tidy, with everything in its place. And now it was here, right slap bang in front of me. I took a large gulp of water and wondered if, amongst this tidiness, the mess in my life would somehow magically clear up too.

I moved to the kitchen window and looked out to the walled garden where weed-free flower beds, framed a square area of flat, lush grass.

‘So, what do you think of our humble abode?’ I jumped at the sound of Tom’s voice as he spoke quietly into my ear.

‘Yes, um, it’s lovely,’ I mumbled not appreciating that he had crept up behind me. I turned around and without realising, took a step back away from his large body. Tom then started on about his flowers, lisping and sputtering, occasionally splattering my face with a shower of spit which splayed from his mouth as he spoke. As I nodded here and there, desperate to wipe the liquid from my face, Glenda appeared and took my arm and offered to show me the rest of the house.

We went upstairs. Quietly, with head bowed, Glenda pointed to the closed door of their bedroom and then to an immaculate, sparkling bathroom.

‘This is your room. I hope you like it.’ I spun round as Glenda mumbled and pushed open the door.

Now, how could I not like it after some of the places I’d lived in the past. Childrens homes, foster placements, rooms shared with strange, awkward kids, no privacy, nothing normal.

‘It’s lovely,’ I said for the second time that day.

I walked into the room and looked about, touching the bed, the drawers, the small desk. It was nice, really nice. I moved to the window and looked out over the front of the house at the small houses in the Jupiter cul-de –sac as they sat together quietly, as if waiting for something to happen. As my mind wandered, Frances’ voice wafted towards me from the hallway, cutting dead my daydream.

‘... she’s moved about a lot... bright girl... has exams next year... a terrible family tragedy... had a big impact on her... she needs some space... usually quiet, well can be withdrawn actually... no... no, I haven’t told her yet...’

Hang on, hang on. What hadn’t I been told?

I froze, my hands tightening on the window sill until my knuckles became white. I knew it was all too good to be true, this perfect house, with perfect flowers, in a perfect cul-de-sac. How could I ever imagine for one minute that my messy life with so many changes and a past I struggled to understand, could possibly be a happy-ever-after?

There was something that I hadn’t been told and it was obviously bad. 

Losing Agir by Liz Fisher-Frank, published by Live It Publishing is out NOW! 

Losing Agir: A story of courage, justice and love, crossing borders and cultures

Partly based on fact. this is the story of two young people, united by experiences of family separation and loss, whom, in their search for justice, find friendship and even love.

This is the story of Alice, a 15 year old in care and her relationship with Agir, a Kurdish boy smuggled into the UK following the violent destruction of his village in South-East Turkey. As Agir's terrible tale unfolds, Alice learns the truth about her strange and unnerving foster home. Against the backdrop of her own family tragedy, does Alice have the strength to challenge her foster father to free Agir from his clutches?