YA Scavenger Hunt … it’s live!

Seventeen-year-old Autumn Teslow arrives at her father’s job fair knowing she’ll never measure up to the perfect image of daddy’s little girl—her twin sister.

Wearing anger management issues like a second skin won’t help Autumn win her dad’s approval for the big trip she’s been planning—or meet his condition that she successfully complete a summer internship for college.

Autumn’s cool unravels when her sister lectures against disappointing the family again. And when a young, bearded guy steps through the crowd to settle the growing argument between siblings, Autumn lashes out, dubbing him a “Duck Dynasty wannabe.”

At Nineteen, Caden Behr is clueless as to why his man parts are threatened by the fearsome girl before him. He’d only come to find an intern for his recreational equipment company, not break up a girl-fight between two sisters.

Unfortunately, the only candidate left is the girl who just told him off. Without her, he’ll never prove to his CEO mother that he’s ready for more responsibility.

Autumn and Caden agree that if they can keep from killing one another, they can use one another to get what they want and then never have to see each other again. Which is what they want.

Until it isn’t.

Because despite her best efforts to scare him off, and his fading desire to push her into the lake, they’re beginning to enjoy the time they spend together. But pride is a hard habit to break. And if neither will admit their changing feelings, they could lose a whole lot more than one summer.

Sounds great, right? There’s 33 and more reasons why I love this premise and the below excerpt!!

And here’s Julie to tell you about her exclusive content for ONE SUMMER WITH AUTUMN …

Hi everyone! So excited to be with you for the Spring YASH 2017 hunt. Go Team Blue!!

I’m stoked to share something special with you that is near and dear to my heart. In my story, ONE SUMMER WITH AUTUMN, there are three brothers—the oldest Quinn, middle child Dexter (Dex) ,and youngest brother Caden. I knew I wanted to write a contemporary romance about a guy coming from a dysfunctional, but close knit family that I named the Behr family. The trouble was, in developing my characters, I’d come to really love all three brothers equally. They are a hot bunch of southern boys, each so fun, flawed and uniquely different, I struggled over which romance to tell! I finally decided on Caden, and it’s his OTP (one true pairing) and story that gets the spotlight in ONE SUMMER WITH AUTUMN. However, I played around with Quinn’s story, too. Below is a rough (okay, really rough) draft of a first practice chapter in Quinn and Jesse’s story. A story that didn’t get written, and yet I love this first meeting. I hope you will enjoy their “cute meet” as much as I do.

Thanks to the awesome Brenda Drake for hosting me!

XOXO Good luck with the hunt, you guys.  I really hope you enjoy the chapter …  ((hugs))

EXCLUSIVE CONTENT

A Behr Brothers Story

One

Quinn

A confirmed night owl, there’s little about mornings I like. In fact, they suck.

After years of working for my old man at the sporting goods store, getting up for school or practice, you’d think the recessive ‘early’ gene residing in the rest of my family would eventually show up in me. Not so much.

The heat, fog, and Amazon-level deluge falling on my truck right now isn’t helping my mood any. Wipers flop back and forth over my windshield in their sad and noisy attempts to squeegee. A couple of shrieking cats tied to sticks would probably do a better job of clearing the glass than these ancient blades, and with less noise. I need to replace them, but I always forget to buy new ones. Until it rains. Like right now.

The red glow of a stop light penetrates the gloom just in time to save me from plowing through the intersection. Not that there are other cars around at his hour. Still … I shift to neutral, lift my supersized coffee mug from its holder, and sip. Still too hot, I blow over the opening, my caffeine addicted body impatient for that badly needed first hit. Without it, my temper is Hyde over Jekyll and that shit won’t fly. Not today.

I wouldn’t even be up at this ungodly hour except Coach gave me an ultimatum. Pass the two classes I failed last semester in summer school or kiss my starting place on the offense goodbye. As usual, I messed around until the schedule of available summer tutors was full. Procrastination is new, a pattern for me since my dad’s death. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) my best friend Kevyn Ringo heard from a friend of a friend that some brainy, junior was in need of extra cash. Cash I’ve got.

Believing I’d never get around to it, (oh ye of little faith) Ringo set up the sessions for me. I’m guessing as a dose of added spite, it’s probably no coincidence he planned my meetings with a book-loving Poindexter named Jesse every Tuesday and Thursday at kiss my ass o’clock in the morning. A year younger, the dude no doubt lives for his GPA, debate team, and Comicons. Whatever. As long as he helps me pass.

Another sip of coffee and I curse the hot liquid scalding my tongue. Removing the lid, I blow across the top. My eyes close, mouth waters as I snort the aroma of Starbuck’s Komodo Dragon up my nose. Life is good.

A screech shatters the peaceful moment. Everything happens in slow motion as my lids fly open and I’m thrust forward. The truck bounces, my neck jerks back, and then a wave of dark-brown liquid sloshes high in the air and down again. Into my lap.

“Son of a …”

I’m trapped by my seatbelt. My fingers fumble first with the metal clasp of the belt and then the door handle—all the while the skin on my thighs are burning, and my brain silently screams. My balls are boiling. The thought I may never procreate flashes through my mind. Other than a faint glow of headlights through the rain, I can’t see shit out my back window. Someone definitely hit me, though, and that someone is going to die. Their last wish before I punch them is going to be that I’d had my coffee this morning.

I slide out of my seat and into the storm. Wind screams around my legs. Rain stings my face like hypodermics. “Holy shit!” I pull my hood over my head and sprint to the back of the truck. Snub-nosed against my bumper is the grill of a little sports car. In the downpour, I can’t tell if it’s painted gray or covered in Bondo.

A girl peers from beneath her umbrella, the yellow dome covered in minions from the movie Despicable Me. She looks twelve years old. A kid, barely old enough to drive. The glow from her smashed headlamp lights her shivering legs. It isn’t that cold, despite the storm. Her eyes are huge in her frightened looking face. Maybe she’s in shock.

The girl lunges forward, holding her ridiculous umbrella over my head and uncovering hers. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “Are you okay? How did this even happen? Well, I know how it happened, but how could it? I don’t understand, not that I’m making excuses, it’s just … At first, I didn’t see you. And then I did, of course, but I couldn’t stop. I mean, my car wouldn’t stop. When I hit the brakes, I skid. Skidded? That’s a word, right? I skidded into you … Oh, God.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I should call 911.”

Hair clings to her face. Her rain-drenched T-shirt creates a second skin over her body, correcting my earlier assessment of her age. Not twelve. Not even close.

Damn.

Between the girl’s nervous rambling, selfless umbrella gesture, and obvious panic, my anger drains like the rain beneath my feet.

“I’m fine,” I lie. My crotch still hurts like a mother, and the sodden jeans sticking to my commando privates aren’t chaffing any less. Gently, I take the hand holding the umbrella over my head and reposition it over hers. “Wait a minute on the cops. Let’s take a look and see what we’ve got, okay?”

She nods and sniffs.

Both vehicles idle, exhausts smoking in the gloom. “Can you back your car up a couple of feet?” She looks so scared. I hate to shout, but the rain is too loud. The girl, so chatty a few seconds ago, merely stares. I need to assess the damage, and since it’s still running, I move it myself. I’m only six feet, but play center forward. At 174 pounds, I’m not exactly tiny. So, when I climb into the front seat of her Karmann Ghia, I feel a lot like a sardine in a can.

Five minutes later, I give her the bad news. While my bumper is only dented with a few scratches, her front end looks like an accordion. With the engine design located safely in the trunk, the car will run, it just won’t be pretty.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “I’ll pay for the damage.”

“Thanks, but I think it’s fine, at least on my end. This is an old truck and has seen a lot worse. I’m more concerned about your vehicle.”

She begs for my name and number, my address, but I won’t give her anything. I don’t know why I’m being so damn charitable this morning, and without my coffee. Half the time I get so tongue-tied around girls; I can’t speak intelligently. Whether it’s the situation, or those sad, lost eyes, there’s something about this girl. I’m taking control, decisive, and charming as hell.

Ringo will never believe me.

The rain slacks. I tuck her into her car with instructions to call her parents and then drive straight to a garage. She says nothing, watching me with those eyes. Eyes that draw a guy in. Eyes that make him want to rescue someone or ask that same someone stupid questions in the middle of a downpour. I remind myself that curiosity killed a cat at the same time I wish I had a towel to offer. As her window rolls up, I give her a smile and salute.

We drive away from one another. My chest lifts, relieved that no one got hurt. Though I should have taken more time to suggest a mechanic. Better still, I could have insisted on following her to the garage to see that she got there okay. The girl was understandably upset over her jacked-up car, but she appeared more than shaken. There was something familiar in her expression that seemed defeated, worn down. Lord knows, I’d seen that look a hundred times in my own mirror over the past year.

Now, you’re imagining things. It’s a fender bender, she’ll be fine. I didn’t recognize her. Sure, Cowpens is a small town, but that doesn’t mean I know everybody.

The breath escaping through my nose is resigned. Whoever she is, she didn’t end up with accident on her record, or skyrocketing insurance over one mistake. I’m happy I stuck to my guns and never gave her my name, but I’m more than a little disappointed that I didn’t get hers.

Love that excerpt! Did you figure out my favorite number? It’s 33! And don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of books by me, JULIE REECE, and more! To enter, you need to know my favorite number. Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the BLUE TEAM and you’ll have all the secret code to enter for the grand prize!

And if you win the above pack, I’ll throw in the New York Times bestseller THIEF OF LIES (Library Jumpers Book 1) to go with GUARDIAN OF SECRETS (Library Jumpers Book 2) listed in the giveaway!

Thank you so much for visiting my website! While you’re here don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter bonus contest I am running exclusively during the YA Scavenger Hunt. For an extra bonus entry, leave a comment on this blog post and answer the following: If you could jump through a gateway book to any library in the world, which one would you choose? You never know, it might show up in the next books of the Library Jumpers series. I look forward to reading your answers! Have fun!One winner will receive a $20 Amazon Gift card and an eBook of the first and second book in my other series, THE FATED.

Good luck everyone!

CONTINUE THE HUNT

To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need to check out the next author – LISA MAXWELL!