AUTHOR NAME: Shirley Anne
Edwards
BOOK TITLE: What If
BOOK GENRE: Young Adult
PUBLISHER: Shirley Anne Edwards
PUBLICATION DATE: 9/22/14
PRINT LENGTH: 225 pages
AVAILABLE FORMATS: Epub, Mobi,
PDF and print
BOOK
BLURB:
"A
startling unique spin on Peter Pan with mystery and romance, and
staying true to yourself." - # 1 NY Times Bestselling author
Jennifer L. Armentrout
Sixteen-year-old
Wendy Wyman is bereft over the death of her best friend, Peter
Preiss, whose body has been found at the bottom of the town lake. She
blames herself because she allowed him to go back to his family’s
lakeside boathouse late at night where they had just made love for
the first time. She wonders what she could have done differently to
stop Pete from being killed, and thinks back to the beginning of the
school year when her whole life changed forever.
Wendy
will stop at nothing until she finds out the person responsible for
killing Peter, who was bullied by most of the students in their
junior class. She is in for even more of a shock when she finds out
that not only did Pete keep dark secrets from her, but a few of her
close friends are hiding ones as well. This also includes Dylan
Mayone, the new popular boy at school, who wants her for his own, and
may have had a hand in Pete’s death.
Excerpt:
“Move
your ass, Wonder Woman,” Pete shouted, flying by me on his
cherry-red bicycle.
“You’re
a dead man, Preiss,” I yelled, wiping the sweat off my forehead as
I huffed up one of the biggest hills in Brookview Park. Just another
hot and sticky Monday—Labor Day to be exact—as we enjoyed the
last few days of freedom before we began our junior year of high
school. We’d biked at Brookview forever and did every free chance
available. Soon, we’d only be able to bike together on the weekends
because of school and Pete’s part-time job.
He
shot down the hill with his arms spread open like he was on a roller
coaster. It frightened me. I didn’t want him breaking his leg like
he did when he was twelve.
“Be
careful, Mr. Daredevil.” I took my time coming down. There was no
way my leg would be bound in a cast during my first semester of
junior year, with me limping down the hallways open for anyone to
tease or try trip me.
He
spun his bike and kicked his legs in the air. He could be such a
show-off sometimes. He bowed, walking my bike over instead of riding
it, and I rolled my eyes. He would be crushed if he knew my true
feelings.
Biking
wasn’t really my thing. My idea of fun was reading magazines and
watching television.
Such
a teeny, itsy, bitsy lie.
I
hit him hard on the shoulder. “You’re going to get yourself
killed.”
“Hey,
that hurt.” He winced, rubbing his arm.
“Suck
it up, Pee Pee.”
“You
know how much I hate that nickname.”
I
moved my sweat-drenched hair away from my forehead. I could feel a
zit forming, rising under the skin. Great.
Knowing my luck, I’d have a huge tumor right smack in the middle of
my forehead for the first day of school.
“You
call me Wonder Woman. I call you Pee Pee. Deal with it,” I teased.
He
took off his sunglasses and wiped them off with the bottom of his
damp white T-shirt. He sweated more than any person I knew.
“Wendy,
I can’t help it that your first and last name begins with the
letter W. Think of Wonder Woman as a compliment. My nickname, on the
other hand, is humiliating.”
He
frowned, turning away from me. It was bad enough the jerks at our
school made fun of him. Among the more derogatory names used were
“Pity Pete” or “Patchy” because of the bad case of acne he
suffered from. Most times he looked like he had a constant case of
sunburn. His face was a curse. I could hear the sing-song phrase in
my head, “It’s such a pity Petey Pee-Pee is a monkey”.
At
least they’d stopped calling him Jew Boy.
“Sorry,”
I grumbled. He’d been calling me Wonder Woman for as long as I
could remember.
“It
sure is hot out here.” He lifted his shirt, wiping his face with
it. I was about to tell him how gross that was, but then I noticed
his stomach. Wow.
His abs weren't all that bad.
“You’ve
been working out?” I patted his stomach, hiding a grimace as his
sweat moistened my palm. Before I could wipe it away, he grabbed my
arm and twisted me around until he held me in a head lock. We
grappled like that until I almost slipped out of his grip, but he was
just too strong.
“Do
you surrender?”
“Never!”
I decided to do something very low. I tickled him.
He
released me, and I raised my arms in victory. Leaning against his
bike, he rolled his eyes.
“Seriously,
you have some major guns there.” I stretched my arms above my head.
“And
your boobs are so big, now they can crush soda cans. What are you
now, a triple D cup?”
Only
he could get away with saying something like that.
“Yeah,
thanks for noticing. No push up bra needed here.” I pushed my chest
out for emphasis.
Suddenly,
a silver convertible drove by with two guys.
“Hey,
Patchy, where’s your bananas?” the driver shouted and roared down
the street with his radio blasting some air-splitting rock song.
I
clenched my fists, wishing they would crash into a tree. “Pete—”
He
fiddled with the handle bars of his bike. “I’m pretty wiped out.
I should head home and shower before dinner.”
I
glimpsed my watch, surprised by the time. “Okay.”
He
strode away with his bike. I came up beside him, bumping my shoulder
into his. He did the same to me.
“Ignore
that jerk. He’s jealous you’re with a big boobed girl and he
isn’t.”
He
gave me a small smile but didn’t say anything. We walked in silence
until we reached my house.
“Eleven’s
okay?” he asked.
“Same
time as always.”
He
leaned over to give me hug but ruffled my hair instead.
“Preiss,”
I yelled.
He
jumped on his bike and drove straight inside his garage, chuckling
all the way. I felt too winded to chase after him.
I’d
get him back. I always made sure I got the last laugh.
AUTHOR INFORMATION:
I’m
a Northeast girl who first found my love for books when I read Nancy
Drew’s The Secret of the Old Clock Tower at thirteen. I’m a bit
quirky and silly at times, and love anything in entertainment from
movies to television and books. I read close to 20 books a month and
spend most of the rest writing.
Join
me as I start my journey as a young adult writer.
In
the immortal words of Mark Twain: “Life is short, Break the Rules.
Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and
never regret ANYTHING That makes you smile.”
AUTHOR CONTACT LINKS:
Twitter: @shirleyawriter
(https://twitter.com/ShirleyAWriter)
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