Welcome to the book blitz for ARABELLA PARK, the first season in the young adult mystery series, Arabella Park, by author Evan Tyler writing as Meiling. See below for information the book, buy links, an exclusive excerpt, and details on her giveaway.
About the Book
Title: ARABELLA PARK
Series: Arabella Park Season 1
Release Date: October 1, 2017
Genre: Young Adult Mystery
Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Kobo
Everyone knows that losing friends is a natural part of the high school experience. It’s all a game of musical chairs, really. Yet, what happens when a friend doesn’t intentionally “go ghost” but is abruptly taken away?
Kameron, Grayson, Mikey, Yasmin, and Jenna have been thick as thieves from childhood. Rightfully so—they make up the American minority in the German twin city of Arabella Park. When one of the five suddenly turns up missing, the remaining friends must find a way to bring her back while keeping up the facade of leading ordinary small-town lives.
As they search for their missing friend, they discover things about themselves and one another that will catapult them into an explosive climax and the ultimate revelation of who done it.
A multi-faceted mystery told from the alternating points of view of five friends, Arabella Park brings to life what it means to endure the most frightful, profound time of one’s life—the teenage years—while being stretched to the limits of what it means to be an adult, even a hero.
I thought about it the whole ride to school—I really could be a priest, given the right criteria were in place. I mean, I don’t mind listening to people’s problems and I’m sure I’d dig being in front of a crowd doing the priestly Mass stuff wearing one of those pimped-out robes. I could do all the priestly duties, given that I’d get a certain time allowance to play soccer on the side and if I could still scribe some verses, maybe perform them at some church gatherings or something. Oh, and last but not least, I couldn’t have eyes. Because the eyes—I mean, the cravings of these eyes of mine—would get me off track every time.
I’m not to be blamed for this. It’s not really my fault that I have a well-trained eye for hotness.
As I make my way through Senior Hall this morning, I blame the hotness of the girl in front of me for this magnetism that keeps me at her heels. If she weren’t so pretty, even from behind—if her waist wasn’t pinched in just so, if her hips weren’t like a hypnosis clock when they moved from side to side—I’d be alright. But as it is, she’s the flame, and I’m the moth. My being drawn to her is just a principle of nature, a law of physics. Trust me, physics is my area of expertise.
“Hey, I thought you had better taste,” I say to London Griffin, referencing the fact that she is walking beside Robert Schwartz, who is carrying her books for her. “I guess we’re all susceptible to acts of desperation at one time or another.”
She turns around to face me, shifting her weight to one side. “Where’s Mikey?”
“Why don’t you text him and find out.”
“Where is he?” She places her hands on her hips, while Schwartz stands beside her all dumb-looking as usual.
“Mikey had an emergency,” I say. “He won’t be at school today.”
“Well, then you must have my phone, you little cretin. Give it to me.”
“Cretin? Dude, even your insults are insult-able. ” I tag on a sly grin. “I mean, insult-able in an adorable kind of way. What makes you think I have your phone?”
“Because Mikey isn’t the kind of guy who would let me go days without my phone. I’m sure he gave it to you to give me.”
“How do you know what type of guy Mikey really is?”
“I just figure he’s your polar opposite, which would make him, at the very least, passable for human.”
“Ah, yeah, well, I guess that’s something to strive for in the future. Anyway, St. Michael your perfect archangel tried to give you back your phone yesterday, but you weren’t here to get it. So, that begs the question, where you were yesterday?”
“None of your business.”
Schwartz steps forward, using the two inches he has over me as intimidation. Too bad I’m not intimidated by anybody. Well, any guy, at least.
“I’ve got this,” London says to him, sliding her books from his hands. “I’ll see you in class.”
He gives me these growling eyes before turning his hulky back to me and walking off.
I begin walking in the opposite direction, toward Physics. I pull London’s phone from my pocket and hold it up to draw her on.
She scurries behind me. “Give me my phone, Blondie.”
I continue walking, a step ahead of her. I tuck the phone back into my pocket. “Why should I, Ballerina? You got my sister suspended. You’re officially my enemy now.”
“Your sister got herself suspended. And did you just call me ballerina, Blondie? You looked in my phone, didn’t you?” She fumes, stuttering for an epithet worthy of my audacity. “You, you, you—”
“Villainous pig? Douchebagette? Butt Munch? Penis breath?”
“Thief. You pathetic thief.”
“You accessed information in my phone that wasn’t yours to access. You’re a thief.”
“Thief—now that’s one harsh insult, little lady. You think because I broke the code to your phone, that I don’t have a heart or something? Well, you’re right. But you still owe me some civility, especially since I’m the current guardian of your phone.”
She takes a deep breath, her chest inflating dramatically. “What do I have to do to get it back?”
“Just say you’ll go to the Halloween dance with me. That’s it.”
“Okay, I’ll go to the Halloween dance with you.”
“You can’t just say it. You have to mean it. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to think of some even more annoying way to strike your fancy. It could get a lot worse than this, baby girl.”
“Don’t call me baby girl, Blondie.”
“Don’t call me Blondie, baby girl.”
“Whatever, Grayson. I’ll go to the Halloween dance with you. I’m not lying. Now, give me the phone.”
“Perfect. It’s in two weeks, so you’ll have plenty of time to find a perfect costume.”
I tap my pocket. “You want it, come and get it.”
She first looks me in the eyes to see if I’m serious. In response, I lean back coolly against the wall. Straight-faced, she slides her hand into my pocket and pulls the phone out slowly, so slowly that it becomes like an artful striptease. I know for certain she’s hoping to elicit a rise from me, the kind of rise that will force me to walk into class with my physics books in front of my slacks. Despite my weak knees, I am of sound mind enough to hook my arm around her waist before she can bounce away. Standing chest to breast, I bring my lips to her ear.
“Good job, baby girl.”
I punctuate the statement with a light kiss to her earlobe and turn into Physics right as Headmaster Schumer is approaching, likely intending to break up our miniature tryst.
About the Author
I’ve lived the most ordinary life ever. Thus, I write for my own entertainment and hopefully, one day, the entertainment of millions of others. I’m a guitarist/singer/songwriter and above all, a hard worker. (At least, I’d like to think so.) Not sure what other clever thing I could say, so [insert clever line right here.] 🙂
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