This Week's Book Choice - Brenda Maxfield: Ocean Mist Stories

 



 


Blurb for Player (an Ocean Mist short story):

Landing a summer job with the girl of his dreams is seventeen-year-old Andrew Kendrell's fantasy come true. Daniela Rosen is perfect — beautiful, flirty, fun. Unfortunately, she's also taken. Andrew  
can't believe his luck when she's dumped by her boyfriend and turns her sights on him. But his new love has a hidden agenda, and it spirals him toward a life-altering decision. 

 
Blurb for Buried Truth (Ocean Mist Book One):
Nearly a decade has passed, but Mags can’t forget what she did. Now at 17 years old, the shame continues to haunt her, coloring her world. She throws herself into every worthwhile project available, struggling for redemption.
Andrew can have any girl he wants — and he wants them all. He revels in his reputation as player. Or so everyone thinks. Nobody knows what lies beneath the façade.
When Mags takes it upon herself to fix Andrew’s reputation, she doesn’t count on falling for him. Nor is she prepared to have her own carefully reconstructed reputation smeared.
Will either of them trust each other enough to reveal their true selves or their true motivations? Will Mags ever be forgiven for what she did?

 

 

Author Bio:

My passion is writing! What could be more delicious than inventing new characters and seeing where they take you?

I'm a teacher so I spend most of my waking hours with young people. I love chatting with them and hearing their views on love and life. My students are magical, and I am honored to be part of their lives.

I've lived in Honduras, Grand Cayman, and Costa Rica. Presently, I live in Indiana with my husband, Paul. We have two grown children and a precious grandbaby, special delivery from Africa.

When not teaching, I love to hole up in our lake cabin and write -- often with a batch of popcorn nearby. (Oh, and did I mention dark chocolate?)

I enjoy getting to know my readers, so feel free to write me at: contact@brendamaxfield.com . Visit me to learn about all my books and some smart and sassy, clean teen reads: www.brendamaxfield.com  Happy Reading!

 

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Excerpt from Player:

I tossed the old newspaper onto the coffee table and tried to keep my eyes off her bedroom door, but I couldn’t help staring. Seven-thirty.

Any minute now.

The morning sun shot through the pine trees in our front yard, making jagged needle-like shadows on the wall behind me. That was where I should concentrate. Might make some great photos.

But no, the bedroom door had my full attention.

I rubbed my hand over the stubble on my chin and waited. With a quiet twist, the doorknob turned. I jumped from the couch and stepped to the bar in the kitchen, feigning interest in my soggy cereal. The door opened and he came out, his gelled hair sticking out in unruly spikes. He tucked his sports shirt into his jeans.

“Oh, Andrew. Hey, man,” he said, grinning.

My stomach turned to steel, and I bit back the smart-mouth retort that fired to my lips.

He looked out the window, and his smile stretched even wider. “Nice day, huh? Well, I’d best be off.”

He moved across the room in three long strides and left the house. My gaze shifted back to the bedroom door. Mom emerged, wiggling her hips to straighten her short skirt.

“Andy, honey, would you make me a bit of decaf?”

“You’re going to be late.”

“I know, but Boss-Man won’t care now, will he?” She patted her poofed-up hair and gave a throaty giggle.

I grabbed a clean mug, filled it with water, and stuck it in the microwave.

“You going in to work today?” she asked, settling on a bar stool.

“Yeah, at nine.”

She reached over and stroked my cheek. “Don’t forget it’s summer. I want you to do some major goofing-off.”

Whose mother says that? None that I knew. “I know, Mom. I will.”

I had my reasons for loving work. Especially now. Granted, it was running a cash register at Sue’s Seaport Shoppe, but there were perks.

“They ever hire a new salesgirl?”

I nodded and quickly averted my eyes. All I needed was for Mom to figure out why I suddenly loved my job.

“Tourists are crawling around everywhere this week.” She ran her hands down her shoulders and hugged herself. “Hmm, maybe I should do some crawling around, too. You know, troll the male tourists.”

The microwave dinged, and I took out the hot water. “Gross. Would you stop talking like that? Gives people the wrong idea.”

Actually, it would give people the right idea, but I didn’t say so.

I grabbed the decaf off the shelf and spooned some granules into her cup. After a swift stir, I handed it to her.

She pursed her lips and blew into the mug. “Pity is, you remind me of your dad. When are you going to start living a little?”

As soon as Daniela Rosen says yes.


Excerpt from Buried Truth:

Longacre High’s annual junior class beach bonfire had once again lived up to everyone’s low expectations. I stepped back from the blistering heat and watched the crackling sparks fly upward like disappearing flashes in the night sky. Beside me, Brianna jabbed a gooey marshmallow stick near my face.

I jumped and knocked into Courtney Phillip’s elbow. “Sorry, Court.”

Being Bri’s friend was like serving combat duty. Duck, hide, defend yourself. You needed to do it all.

“Ooo, sorry, you guys. Mags, did I poke you?” Bri plunged the marshmallow stick into the sandy dirt at my feet.

“No, I’m fine.” Through the shadows, the stick vibrated back and forth like it was alive. “Uh, no one’s going to want to use that. Dirty s’mores aren’t exactly appetizing.”

Her dark eyes widened, and she pulled the stick from the ground. I grabbed it before she flailed it in somebody else’s face. “I’ll take it. No worries.”

I needed an excuse to walk over to the picnic tables anyway — Andrew was over there. Nobody surfed on this stretch of the Pacific Ocean, but Andrew still had the body of a surfer and a smile that made my legs turn to gummy worms. I held the stick point down and drifted over.

Andrew looked up, and his eyes roamed over me. At his half-smile, my knees went weak and my breath quickened. I tossed the stick on top of a wobbly stack of campfire supplies. To prolong my stay, I fussed with some graham crackers and chocolate.

“Not much of a s’more without the marshmallows.”

Andrew’s deep voice rolled easily above the joking and laughing around the fire. I opened my mouth, hoping for a smooth reply, but my voice stuck to the sides of my throat. I slapped some broken squares of chocolate onto the crackers and kept my eyes down.

“Are you getting s’mores ready for the entire junior class?”

One sentence and a question. Even though our school wasn’t huge, Andrew and I had never really talked, had never really become friends. The most I’d ever gotten from him was a hey or a what’s happening — not that I kept score.

I raised my gaze to his and even in the flickering shadows, I saw the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. I stifled a strange impulse to reach up and touch the rugged stubble on his face, but thank God, I kept my hands on the chocolate and crackers.

 
 
 

2 comments:

  1. Hi Iris! Thank you so much for hosting me. I'm glad to be here!

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    Replies
    1. Absolute pleasure, Brenda! Hope to have you over, soon again

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