BLOG TOUR AND GIVEAWAY! ~~ Trial by Charm by Jolene Buchheit
Title: Trial By
Charm
Author: Jolene Buchheit
Genre: Young Adult Greek-Inspired Urban
Fantasy
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s
PR
Blurb:
with boys. She proudly maintains her composure no matter who
is in her
presence – though some annoying and rude boys still manage
to grate her
last nerve. Then she is blackmailed into being the manager
of the men’s
swim team, and finds herself face to face with the worst of
them all.
Team Captain Vander Thelxinoe is the typical self-assured
jock. He has the
ability to change people’s minds at will, only his charms
don’t work on
Julia. Now he’s anxious to figure out why, and the closer he
tries to get,
the more desperate she is to stay away – especially when he
somehow
awakens a side of her she never knew existed.
Their unexpected friendship puts Julia in the middle of a
quest she
doesn’t quite understand. As her familiar world begins to
unravel around
her, Julia must partner with the one person who knows how to
push her
buttons – and, in doing so, discovers the unbelievable truth
about who she
really is.
Can Julia and Vander survive the trial set before them, or
will they face
the extreme consequences of
failure?
As a substitute teacher, Jolene
spends her days in high school classrooms harvesting material for her Young
Adult novels. She also uses it as an outlet for fangirling by showing upcoming
book-to-movie trailers at the end of class, or discussing vital issues like
whether Katniss should have picked Gale or Peeta.
She is committed to helping Special Education teenagers
become independent adults and helping them find a way to focus on the positive
especially when life gets hard. At home, Jolene loves to cuddle with her
husband, two kids, and three cats—sometimes all at once—while reading Young
Adult books or repeatedly watching movies based on
them.
Author Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2346BqP
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeeJolene
Buy Links:
I study his profile. His
chiseled jaw and dark, floppy hair are like something out of a magazine
advertisement. His eyes, too—they aren’t dark to match his hair, like mine—they
are parts of green and blue, much like the painting of the sea in the other
room.
“Who painted that piece above the couch in there?”
He shrugs, not answering me in any concrete way. Then he
shifts his weight from one foot to the other and his awkwardness makes it clear
to me.
“You did it, didn’t you? You’re a painter.”
He shrugs again. I hop down from my stool to go take another
look at the painting. The artist must have signed it, and I will get my answer
that way.
I go down the hall, past the bathroom, the stairs, and the
front door until I’m standing in the parlor, looking at Vander, who is blocking
the painting from my view. He must have gone through the dining room next to
the kitchen to end up in here before me. He’s staring at me and chewing on his
lip while flexing and balling his hands. He’s more nervous than I have ever
seen him—not before a swim meet, not in class when he didn’t know an answer,
not when he told me how he felt in the bathroom a little bit ago. This is where
his heart lies, in this painting of this island.
I try to look around him, and he leans over.
“Don’t.” He is stern, but gentle. He clears his throat.
“Please don’t touch it. You will want to, but don’t.”
He’s right. I do want to touch it; I want to climb inside of
it. I’m seeing it, and somehow it’s seeing me, and it’s making me feel pulled
apart. I want to dive into the waters, to swim to that far-off land, and I also
want to turn the boat around and sail as far and as quickly as I can in the
opposite direction. Meanwhile, the light from the sun is dimming, laughing at
me for thinking I can have any control here.
I want in!
Vander grabs both of my arms, which are currently outstretched
toward the painting. My knees are on the seat of the couch, and I don’t even
remember moving forward. His voice startles me. “You can’t.”
I blink hard and turn to look him fully in the face. “I
can’t what?”
“You can’t go there, and you can’t go away from there. It’s
just a painting.” Was I talking out loud, or can he read my mind? How does he
know what I was thinking? I let him lead me through the dining room, back into
the kitchen, where the timer is going off. I shake my head to let loose the feelings
that painting stirred in me.
“It’s more than that, and you know it. How?” I don’t even
have to finish the sentence. He knows exactly what I’m asking.
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