We're celebrating the release of A BOY LIKE YOU by Ginger Scott!
A BOY LIKE YOU
YA Contemporary Romance
Scheduled to release: March 3, 2017
BLURB:
They say everyone’s a superhero to someone. I’m not sure who I’m
supposed
to save, but I know who saved me.
We were kids. His name was Christopher. And up until the day he
pulled me
from death’s grip, he was nothing more than a boy I felt sorry
for. In a
blink of an eye, he became the only person who made me feel safe.
And then he disappeared.
Now I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been for
years. While
death didn’t take me that day, the things that happened left me
with
scars—the kind that robbed me of everything I once loved and drove
me into
darkness. But more than anything else, that day—and every day
since—has
taken away my desire to dream.
I wasn’t going to have hope. I wouldn’t let myself wish. Those
things—they
weren’t for girls like me. That’s what I believed…until the new
boy.
He’s nothing like the old boy. He’s taller and older. His hair is
longer,
and his body is lean—strong and ready for anything. I don’t feel
sorry for
him. And sometimes, I hate him. He challenges me. From the moment
I first
saw him standing there on the baseball field, he pushed me—his
eyes
constantly questioning, doubting…daring. Still, something about
him—it
feels…familiar.
He says his name is Wes. But I can’t help but feel like he’s
someone else.
Someone from my past. Someone who’s come back to save me.
This time, though, he’s too late. Josselyn Winters, the girl he
once knew,
is gone. I am the threat; I am my worst enemy. And he can’t save
me from
myself.
Excerpt:
“Come on. Where’s your room?” he
asks, picking me back up in his arms without even asking me. I’ve been here so
much tonight I feel used to it. It doesn’t make me feel weak at all, either. It
makes me feel special. And that
scares me too.
“Across the hall. It’s…it’s
messy,” I say, cracking open one eye and cringing.
Wes chuckles, and the vibration
hits my jaw where it rests on his chest. “My brothers and I share a room. We are messy. I swear…I won’t judge
you,” he says, the left side of his mouth raised. There’s a short pause while
he holds me here in my dim hallway, a stupid smirk on his face and our noses
close enough to touch. The feeling, whatever it is, doesn’t last long, but I
know we both noticed it. I did not imagine that. That was real.
Wes reaches with one hand to open
my door, and steps inside without turning on my light. I’m relieved because I
wasn’t kidding about the mess. I leave food in here because I don’t like
leaving my room. I’m embarrassed enough as it is that he has to kick clothes
and equipment out of the way to make a path to my bed, and when he sets me down
on it, I have to push the pile of dirty clothes to the floor just to find my
blanket. I push my hand under my pillow the second I feel the coolness of the
sheets on my skin, and my fingers search for the feel of his shirt, only it’s
not there…because I gave it back to him, and he gave it to McKenna. That
thought kicks me in the gut.
“You’re sure you’ll be all
right?”
“I’m sure,” I say through a heavy
sigh.
“Okay, I’ll lock your door from
the inside when I go,” he says.
“’Kay,” I breathe out, my body
already succumbing to the pull of exhaustion. My world is spinning a little, so
I let the sleep drag me in, not wanting to feel anything bad until the morning.
I hear my door begin to close, though, and I manage to wake myself enough to
see Wes before he leaves. “Hey, Wes?”
“Yeah?” He rests his head against
the side of my door, and I’m grateful this is the last thing I’m going to see
tonight. The look on his face right now is sweet, and it’s only mine.
“Thank you,” I say, my eyes as
wide as I can hold them. It’s too dark to see the blue in his, but I know it’s
there.
All he does is smile, but it’s
enough. He gently shuts my door, and seconds later I hear the sound of the
front one close followed by the start of his engine. My phone buzzes in my
pocket shortly after, and I fumble awkwardly, trying to make my hands work well
enough to find it. My father’s home, so I know it isn’t him, but Taryn’s
probably worried.
I finally pull it from my pocket
and bring it in front of my face just as I hear Wes pull away. The text is from
him.
You really scared me tonight. And not because I was afraid someone was
going to get hurt. I was afraid YOU were going to get hurt.
His words are powerful and sad,
and I cry almost immediately. My heart also soars. Maybe it shouldn’t, and it’s
probably selfish that it does, but it does. I clutch my phone in my hand and
think of what to type back, but the pull of sleep is strong, so before I
succumb, I simply write I’m sorry. I
won’t promise that I won’t scare him again, but I do vow to myself that I will
try. I will try because I don’t care about much anymore, but I care about Wes.
And I don’t want him to be afraid.
Top 5 Reasons Why
Baseball Is The Most Romantic Sport:
Here’s the thing about baseball. I bet I could walk the
streets, especially in places like Boston and Chicago, and ask any random
hundred people, men and women, what the most romantic sport is, and I can
almost guarantee you baseball comes out on top. I have a lot of theories on
this, but I’m going to boil it down to my favorite five. For me…these are the
reasons why my heart melts every spring and I beg for winter to be over.
1. Robert
Redford. Let me expand on this. Robert Redford is one of those icons that
just makes people flat-out fall. I was a kid when I first saw The Natural. I
wasn’t all about the boys yet—they still had cooties—but when I watched Roy
Hobbs knock the cover off the ball all because he saw the woman in white in the
stands with a glow of sunshine behind her, my heart picked up a step. There was
something about the way he wore the hat, the way he fought to come back, his
love of the game. It was infectious, even though fictional. That story, and
because I read the book I can say this—Robert Redford more so—hits right at the
oooey gooey center of what makes that sport the epitome of romance. Man or
woman—you watch that red-headed swoony gent swing a bat with that music blaring
behind him and you’re going to get goosebumps. If you don’t, I’m insisting you
get checked out.
2. We all
love a good Western. Huh? Hear me out. There’s something sexy about a duel.
While baseball is ultimately a team sport, it is also filled with individual
moments—rivalries between teams, between players, between a man and his demons.
The best example is the battle between pitcher and batter. There’s the slow
build of tension while the pitcher thinks, his hand working the ball behind his
back, deciding the precise weapon that will strike his opponent down. The
batter digs in, his muscles poised and anxious like a bull ready to charge at
fresh meat. Only one can win. And when it’s down to the wire, it can either
break your heart or set you free. A walk-off. A perfect game. A stolen homerun
for the win. Extra innings. A comeback. All duels fought between men, and it
comes down to who wants it more.
3. Fenway. Now I know we all have our
allegiances. Me, I’m a Dbacks and Cubbies girl (I married a Chicago boy; it’s
in the vows) but whether you’re a Yankee’s fan or not, whether you believe in
curses, love or hate the Red Sox, there is something undeniable that happens
the moment you step inside Fenway. I’ve been to a lot of stadiums, and I can
find romance in most of them. But Fenway…it should come with a warning: “May
cause permanent goosebumps and break your heart, ruining it for all other
fields forever.” This park is set in a storybook, with sunsets in the backdrop
that rival Hollywood created ones and stars that sparkle beyond skylines and a
Hancock sign. And then there’s that little thing that happens there in the
middle of the 8th inning. Go on – you know you want to know what it
is – watch it here: https://youtu.be/KxAk1aL-BNo
4. The uniform. It really is the best
uniform in all of sports. There are no pads to hide behind, and it’s not
bare-chests and abs…it’s the seduction of knowing that something is underneath
it all filling out that poly-blend in a way only fine-tuned muscles, a thousand
pitches, 420-foot home runs and a month of spring training can. Now shade the
eyes with a hat, and I’m sunk.
5. Bryce Harper. All I’m going to say is
google the ESPN body issue if you haven’t seen it.
About the Author:
Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice
Award-nominated author of several young and new adult romances, including
Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This
Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, Wild Reckless,
Wicked Restless, In Your Dreams, The Hard Count, and Hold My Breath.
A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and
she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot
quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been
writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years.
She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists,
cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website
at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.
When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere
near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce
Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks.
Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met
at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).
Social Media Links:
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/GingerScottAuthor
Twitter: @TheGingerScott
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/thegingerscott/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/GingerScott
Website: http://www.littlemisswrite.com
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