Title: The Problem With Crazy
Author: Lauren K McKellar
Genre: NA Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Berto Designs
Release Date: February 13, 2014
The problem with crazy is that crazy, by itself, has no context. It can be good crazy, bad crazy . . . or crazy crazy—like it was when my ex-boyfriend sung about me on the radio.
Eighteen-year-old Kate couldn’t be more excited about finishing high school and spending the summer on tour with her boyfriend’s band. Her dad showing up drunk at graduation, however, is not exactly kicking things off on the right foot—and that’s before she finds out about his mystery illness, certain to end in death.
A mystery illness she is likely to inherit.
When your whole life goes from adventure and ecstasy to sad and suicidal, what’s the point? Not knowing who to love, and who to trust . . . where does it end?
The Problem With Crazy is a story about love and life; about overcoming obstacles, choosing to trust, and learning how to make the choices that will change your life forever.
*A portion of sales from this book will be donated to a Huntington’s disease-related charity (details TBC)
Join in the release day blitz, complete with prizes, fun, games, and a partridge in a pear tree on February 13, 2014. Sign up today: http://bit.ly/1cSoON4
EXCERPTS & TEASERS:
“And there is something else we need to tell you, dear.”
“Deb, not now. Give ‘er a rest,” Dad interjected, his voice sounding ever more weary with each passing word.
“What? Tell me,” I demanded, my fingers clenching into little fists. “What could possibly be worse than what you’ve already said?” Dave placed his arm protectively around my shoulders. I wanted to shake it off.
“Maybe we should wait.” Mum eyed Dave’s hand.
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of him.” I shook my head. “He’s family. You know that.” Dave and I locked eyes, and he gave me a special little smile.
“Kate, it’s not a good time.” Mum’s voice was shrill. My heart was beating like a jackhammer, thud-thud-thud, over and over at double time.
“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll Google it. I’ll just search the disease and see what I can find. We both will!”
Silence. Dave took my hand in his, clasping his other hand around it so I was protected entirely within his palms. Mum and Dad looked at each other, foreheads wrinkled and lips pursed.
“The disease your father has,” Mum paused. I nodded at her. Go on.
Just tell me. Get it over with.
I struggled to breathe as Dave’s fingers slowly unlaced themselves from mine.
Gypsy Rose placed a series of cards on the table, one after the other. They were brightly coloured, garish-looking things, full of shapes and objects, some of which I recognised and some of which I didn’t.
“Is there anything specific you want to know?”
The words stuck in my head.
Yes, when is my dad going to die?
Sure, will he remember me at all?
Okay, let’s start with am I going to have a mental illness and lose control of my words and movements?
“Oh you know, just general stuff.” I smiled vaguely and bit my lip.
We rolled onto our sides and Dave’s hands worked their way down the edges of my top and lifted it up. They explored my stomach, tickling their way over my ribs, until they reached my chest, kneading through my bra and cupping them with warmth.
Dave’s earlier boob autographing flashed through my mind. I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the present.
“Oh, Kate,” Dave groaned in my ear. His hands were trying to get inside my bra now, one fiddling with the clasp, the other trying to access from underneath.
What exactly had he written on her chest, anyway? Do you address the autograph ‘Dear Tits’, or use the girl’s name?
And if I was really happy in our relationship, really ready to have sex with him, why was I thinking about this now?
“Nice ass,” a deep voice said. I jumped and quickly straightened up. Heat rushed to my cheeks as my head spun from left to right, trying to identify where the noise had come from.
“Sorry,” the voice came again, only this time I identified its source. A guy stepped out from behind the tree, lit cigarette in hand. He was tall, about six foot, with floppy brown hair, olive-toned skin and chocolate-coloured eyes, a tiny freckle marring his right cheek. A small smile was twisted on his lips, showcasing a dimple that made something twinge inside of me.
“You can’t do that.” I frowned.
“If you’re going to bend over in my presence I’m not allowed to compliment you?” The guy stepped forward, closer to me.
“I was stretching,” I shot him what I hoped was a withering look. “And you were hiding behind a tree.”
“I was relaxing behind a tree.” He stepped closer again and I saw the light dancing in his eyes. “But I do realise I might have come across a little sleazy. I meant it as a compliment. You have a great ass. Much better than some of the others I’ve seen around here.”
“You do this all the time?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘this’.”
“Stand behind trees, and check out peoples asses.”
Lauren K. McKellar is a writer and editor of fact and fiction. She has worked in publishing for more than eight years, and recently returned to her first love: writing books that make you feel.
Lauren loves to write for the Young and New Adult markets, and blogs with Aussie Owned and Read, as well as vloggingwith the YA Rebels.
In her free time, Lauren enjoys long walks on the beach with her two super-cute dogs and her partner-in-crime/fiancé.
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