Awkward much? Absolutely.

Awkward describes most people’s experience in high school and mine was no different, if not more in some ways. Short, boobless, and 85 pounds...of hair. Curly hair in a humid clime is a bane that must be lived to truly comprehend. But I digress.

TV’s portrayal of high school awkwardness usually means twenty-something Abercrombie + Fitch models (seriously, even the hottest guy at my school wasn’t model hot), a best friend vs. bad boy love triangle with the nerdy but cute nobody (when? when does this happen? cause I was that girl and this never, ever was the situation), and at least one pregnancy scare episode (this did happen, but not in high school, thanks gods).

Anyway, my point is, and I think we all agree, Hollywood glams up high school because really, why would you want your escapist entertainment to be the life you’re already living? It’s kind of like me watching The Office.

My So-Called Life came closest to capturing the messy, highly-charged hormonal roller coaster of those years. And one of the swooniest moments in TV history. You know the one (Jordan Catalano, how I miss you). But shows like this are few and far between. Lucky for us, the between is now.

If you haven’t seen MTV’s (I know! How?) new show, Awkward, well what are you waiting for?? And, no, it’s not about Teen Mom’s mom explaining how that’s her grandkid, not her own baby, for the gazillionth time. It is actual not to be missed scripted YA television. I literally snort-laugh every single episode--I wish I could write dialogue like these writers. With only four episodes so far there’s definitely time to catch up. Plus, it comes on late on Tuesdays so you can watch it while your guy’s already sacked out and he won’t razz you for watching MTV, like you do when he watches the friggin’ Kardashians (boobs, I bow to your magnetic powers).

Jenna is the cute but nearly invisible girl who catches the eye of tall, goofy, but popular, Matty. There’s hooking up, longing, a possible besties love triangle, and a mean-girl cheerleader--all my favorite elements. Did I mention the longing? And tall, goofy guy--my kryptonite? It’s a one-two power punch for me. Please, I’m begging y’all to watch this so we can discuss all the yummy goodness together. Tracy, Emily, I’m specifically looking at you.

Anybody watching Awkward? Tell me you love it!!

And the winner is...

SamjamG is the winner of the Cold Kiss ARC giveaway! Thanks everyone for leaving a comment. Come back next week for another chance to win on our Contest Wednesdays.

Cold Kiss Signed ARC Giveaway

There are all types of kisses: the butterfly kiss, the eskimo kiss, the air kiss, not to forget the granddaddy of them all, the delectable French kiss (surprisingly, the French call this "the English kiss"). But today we're talking about cold kisses. No, this is not a Twilight post.

Amy Garvey's YA debut, Cold Kiss, comes out in September, and I was lucky enough to snag a signed advance reader's copy which I'm giving away to one lucky commenter today. Cold Kiss is the story of love and loss and zombies--sort of. Not Shaun of the Dead, brain-eating zombies, but, well, like this:

Four months ago, Danny died. In a heartbroken fury, Wren used her mysterious powers to bring him back--never thinking that the Danny who returned would be just a cold shell of the boy she fell in love with. Now, Wren is struggling to hide the not-quite-living but definitely not dead Danny from the world. As she begins to lose control over what she has wrought and everything in her life starts to spiral into chaos, Wren realizes that she must find a way to make things right--even if it means breaking her heart.

Heartwrenching, right? Obsessive love, impossible choices--my kind of book. If you'd like to read it, too, leave a comment and tell me your favorite adjective to describe a kiss. Mine is delicious. Mmmm.

Summer Days Driftin’ Away

Though the thermostat says otherwise, and probably will for a while, according to the school calendar, summer is quickly coming to an end. No other time of year so defines our memories of idyllic childhood—long days, bare feet, fireflies, and family vacations. It’s an annual pause in the relentless forward march toward inevitable adulthood and the never-ending responsibilities to come. For my family, summer means three things: water park, fireworks, and musicals.

In Texas, summer comes early and stays late. By the time school let’s out the first week of June, the daily highs are usually in the 90s and the best way to cool of is in the water, of course. We head to Schlitterbahn – the hottest, coolest time in Texas. If you’ve never heard of this place, half-way between Austin and San Antonio, it’s the best water park in America. Tube rides, slides and giant pools cluster under hundred years old oak and cypress trees along the spring-fed Comal River. I’ve been making an almost annual pilgrimmage to Schilitterbahn to start my summer since Ronald Reagan was president, and that’s how my family still kicks off summer today.

Fourth of July is the holiday of summer. We leave city living behind us and head for the hills. Literally. The Texas Hill Country is just that—hills carved by rivers and streams, dotted with quaint country towns. We load up our travel trailer (no, we’re not 80, we just travel like we are) and meet our friends for a weekend of non-stop barbecue, homemade ice cream, swimming, tossing horseshoes (this is Texas) and naps in the hammock. For three days, there’s no TV or email and if you hike about an hour to the top of the nearest hill you might get a bar of signal on your cell phone. It’s unplugged paradise for the adults and a parental-supervision-lite utopia for the kiddos. All of which culminates in an evening of writing your name in the air with sparklers and a firework display the dads coordinate, and the moms bet who’s going to lose a finger first

By August, the heat has slowed everything down to just above a crawl, and not even sunset offers much relieve. But it does give you the best free show in Austin: the Zilker Summer Musical. It’s the last big event before school starts and has been going on for 53 years. We take a blanket, a cooler, and plant ourselves on the park’s hillside under the stars to watch the show. This year’s production was Footloose (didn’t I just have a hankering for this movie?) and even though it was at least 100 degrees until ten o’clock, the dancing was awesome, the music infectious, and the crowd appreciative. For me there’s no better way to cap off the season--though some rain would be nice.

How ‘bout y’all? Any annual summer traditions you just have to do?

New Excerpt from Tempest Unleashed

I know this isn't the day for it, but it's been a week from hell, so here's a new excerpt from Tempest Unleashed to tide you over ...

Flexing my hands, I relaxed, let go of my natural barriers.  Then nearly screamed as something bright and powerful shot out of nearly every pore in my body—and straight at the five men who surrounded me.

They screamed, pushed backwards, but it was too late.  The one holding my hand gasped and then his grasp loosened.  I watched, in horror, as his eyes went blank and he slowly, so slowly, started to float away from me—carried by the ocean’s currents rather than his own power.

I stared at him for one, long second, horrified by the idea that I had killed him.  He wasn’t the first person I’d killed since being in the Pacific—I’d been forced to kill one of Kona’s friends not long after I’d discovered the underwater world.   This time it wasn’t any easier, despite the fact that shark man had been trying to kill me just as Malu had.

Even as the thought was forming, even as I was grieving at what I had become, I was turning, prepared to meet any other threat head on.  But there was no other threat—the other two men who had been touching me were also dead, their eyes wide and vacant as the ocean slowly carried them away.  The last two hadn’t been hurt by my strange, new power—or at least they didn’t look hurt as they swam away from me as quickly as they could.

I watched them go, but then my self-preservation instinct kicked in.  Who said they really were running away?  Maybe they were just going for reinforcements.  And if that was the case, I certainly didn’t want to be caught standing here waiting for them like an imbecile.

            I started to swim away from them, glancing around for something familiar to prove to me that I was going in the right direction.  There was nothing—no trench, no oyster bed, nothing but the feeling that I was heading where I needed to be. 

            As I swam, I tried to catalogue how I was feeling.  My throat hurt, my stomach hurt, my head hurt—but I wasn’t sure if that was because I had gotten hurt in the struggle or simply because I was doing my best not to cry.  The tears were right there, behind my eyes and clogging up my throat, but I wouldn’t give in to them.  Not this time. 

            Yes, I had killed three people, and no matter how sick that fact made me, I had to live with it.  If I hadn’t lashed out at them, if my power hadn’t done that weird electric thing, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.  And I could be assured that they would not have experienced the same attack of conscience at my demise that I was suffering at theirs.

            And speaking of my powers, what had happened back there?  I knew that I could call down lightning and cause storms, knew that I could blast out at people with bursts of energy.  But this latest thing—this electric thing—was new.  Not to mention creepy in the extreme.

            I shivered, and for the first time I realized I was still trembling.  And not just trembling, but shaking violently.  Adrenaline? I wondered, because God knew I had enough of the stuff coursing through my body to power a small city. 

            But this didn’t feel like the crash after an adrenaline rush.  This just felt … awful. Like I was slogging through mud with every swish of my hands and flip of my tail. 

            My eyes started to close against my will, and that’s when I realized how tired I was, my whole body assailed by a bone-deep weariness.  What was wrong with me?  Was it the fight?  The electric thing?  The fact that I had killed three people?

            Or was it something else entirely?

            For the first time since I’d gotten away, I realized that my tail was hurting.  Glancing back at it, I froze as I realized there was blood in the water around me.  A lot of blood.  And it was pouring out of a long, jagged cut in the center of my tail.

            One of Tiamat’s henchmen had stabbed me.  

Hope you enjoy!

Modern food coupon

Usually, we writers stick close to home, but Monday was one of the weird days when I planned to be out all day. It started with plans to drive my guy to work and was just busy, busy, busy from there. The snag? I forgot my purse at home.

And, with all the busy-ness planned, I just couldn't drive home to get it. So my guy gave me the twenty in his wallet when I dropped him off, and I was (I hoped!) set for the day. True, I felt naked without my cell phone or my wallet, but surely I could make it through the day. I didn't have any shopping to do. My car didn't need gas. All I had to do really was feed myself and get home in time for dinner.

I'm a little disgusted with myself to admit this, but I wasn't sure a twenty would be enough.

$2.55 for a bagel and shmear, plue $2.05 for a mug of joe later and I was even less sure. I was now down to fifteen dollars for lunch. But I needed somewhere I could sit with my laptop and squeeze in some work for several hours in the afternoon. Maybe I could have made a run for the border and hung at Taco Bell for about five bucks, but I also needed wifi. Panera came to my rescue. Eleven bucks later for a premium salad and an iced tea and I was set for the day. I made it home, strangely proud of the three dollars plus change in my pocket. But a little embarrassed too.

I'd once laughed at a friend who referred to a twenty dollar bill as the modern food coupon. "You are such a single guy!" I told him. Now, I can't help thinking my grandmother would be ashamed of me. She lived on $20 a week back in the thirties when she and my grandfather first married and she never misses an opportunity to tell me about it.

So how far can you go $20?

Since we missed yesterday's hump day contest, I'll pick one person to win a copy of my latest book.

Just Can't Help Falling In Love

I was all set for a different post today, but then something happened over the weekend that demanded something else. I fell in love.

The object of my affection is elusive, but when it appears the feeling is magical. A quixotic blend of disbelieve that I’ve found it and fragile hope that this won’t be the last time. That what happened on Saturday afternoon was not an isolated incident, and that another will follow, and another one after that.

I’m speaking of course about a decent romantic comedy. If you have not yet seen Crazy, Stupid, Love I beg you to stop what you’re doing right now, and run, don’t walk, to your nearest cineplex. After years of subpar romcon offerings with Katherine Heigl overload I’d feared this sub-genre’s glory days were behind us. Last year was bar none the worst year for this theatric sub-genre maybe ever. Other than Date Night, which had comedy heavyweights Steve Carrell and Tina Fey to lift it up, the offerings were dismal. Anybody see The Switch? When in Rome? The Backup Plan? I haven’t even bothered with these on NetFlix.

But Crazy, Stupid, Love gives me hope for a renaissance. The characters are wonderful and real; the situations are laughable, sometimes sad, but always heartfelt; and the dialogue sparkles. I’m such a sucker for really witty dialogue. I won’t give away the awesome twists and turns of this well-written, well-crafted flick, but I assure you Ryan Gosling's abs are just the icing on the cake. And, by-the-way, Kevin Bacon is holding up remarkably well, too. Seeing these two in the same movie makes me want to pull out Footloose and The Notebook and curl up for an afternoon of deliciousness. Oh, and Dirty Dancing, too—see the movie and you’ll know why.

Seen it yet? Did you love it?