All Boy by Mia Kerick

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mia Kerick will award a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Seventeen-year-old Callie Canter knows all about screwing up—and being screwed over. After her so-called boyfriend publicly humiliated her senior year, taking a fifth year of high school at Beaufort Hills Academy is her second chance to leave behind a painful past. But her need for social acceptance follows, and going along with the in-crowd is the difference between survival and becoming a target. Staying off the radar is top priority. So, falling for an outsider is the last thing on Callie’s “to-do” list. Too bad her heart didn’t get the memo.

With his strict, religious upbringing and former identity far away in Florida, Jayden Morrissey can finally be true to himself at Beaufort Hills Academy. But life as a trans man means keeping secrets, and keeping secrets means not getting too close to anyone. If he can just get through his fifth year unnoticed, maybe a future living as the person he was born to be is possible. Yet love is love, and when you fall hard enough, intentions crumble, plans detour, and secrets are revealed.

From multi-award-winning author Mia Kerick, comes a powerful, timely, and life-changing novel, which follows two teenagers nursing broken hearts and seeking acceptance, and who together realize running away isn’t always the answer.

Read an Excerpt:

Jayden

“You said that your old boyfriend didn’t treat you well. I’m curious about what happened with him."

Callie’s lips tighten. Even on guard, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Her face is what I’d call exotic—her eyes are wide, her cheekbones high, and her lips full. And the shade of her skin is even fairer than mine. I wonder about her ethnicity, but don’t ask. If I ask too many questions, it will open the door for her to ask questions of me. She leans back on her hands so she can better size me up. Her reply is cautious. “In the second half of senior year, things with us went downhill, but, to be real, they’d never been perfect.”

“How long did you go out with him?”

“Three years—well, just over.”

“What happened to screw things up?”

“Don’t you think the past should stay where it belongs?” She measures each word.

“Yeah… unless the event scars you. Because that stuff doesn’t just go away.”

She sighs. “Ryan did not appreciate that I was a plus-size girl. It was a huge deal that I wasn’t skinny.”

I swallow hard, having seen this issue from both sides.

“My body was always a problem for him… You could call it my fatal flaw.”

“Did he actually tell you that he didn’t like the way you looked?”

“Hell, yeah… like, ten times a day.” Callie smiles, but it isn’t out of happiness. It’s a bitter smile. “The size of my backside was almost a deal-breaker for him. He told me that he liked ‘the waif look.’”

“The waif look? What’s that?”

“Kind of skinny and underdeveloped—like many runway models. The emaciated opposite of gargantuan me.”

“That’s just wrong, Callie.”

“But he said my pretty face made up for my wide ass.” She flops back on the bed. “You must be wondering how desperate I was for attention to stick around for three-plus years, just to get that kind of treatment. I used to wonder about it, too.”

“And then?”

“Then I figured out the reason I stayed put: I believed what Ryan was saying. That a fat girl really has no options.” She covers her face with her hands and adds, “For some reason, his acceptance of me mattered so frigging much.”

“You dumped him, I hope.”

“I did, sort of.”

“Ryan didn’t deserve a girl like you, someone so smart and pretty and sweet.”

Callie laughs. “No one ever calls me sweet.”

“Well, I just did.”

About the Author:

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—one a recent graduate of law school, another a professional dancer, a third studying at Mia’s alma mater, Boston College, and the baby finally off to college. (Yes, the nest is empty.) She publishes LGBTQ fiction and romance when not editing National Honor Society essays, offering opinions on college and law school applications, helping to create dance bios, and reviewing English papers. Her husband of twenty-five years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about this, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of young people who are challenged by the circumstances of their lives and relationships. She has a great affinity for the tortured hero in literature, and as a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with tales of tortured heroes and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. Now she publishes her work—it’s an alternate way to stash her stories.

Her books have been featured in Kirkus Reviews magazine. They have won a 2019 IPPY GOLD award for Juvenile/Young Adult Fiction, Rainbow Awards for Best Transgender Contemporary Romance and Best YA Lesbian Fiction, a Reader Views’ Book by Book Publicity Literary Award for Young Adult Fiction, the Jack Eadon Award for Best Book in Contemporary Drama, an Indie Fab Award, a First Place Royal Dragonfly Award for Cultural Diversity, a First Place Story Monsters Purple Dragonfly Award for YA Fiction, and a category finalist for the Eric Hoffer award, a finalist in the National Indie Excellence Awards for Young Adult Fiction and more.

Mia Kerick is a social liberal and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology. Contact Mia at miakerick@gmail.com or visit at www.miakerickya.com to see what is going on in Mia’s world.

http://www.miakerickya.com
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Jgi4-fIFgo

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Hard Day's Night by Mia Kerick - Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mia will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

High school senior Kalin (Lennon) Macready knows several facts for certain: John Lennon is his hero. Beaumont Finley Danforth II (Fin) is his best friend. And—this is the complicated one—he feels more for Fin than mere friendship.

For weeks, Lennon pesters Fin, who like Lennon admits to questioning his sexual orientation, for a commitment to spend twenty-four hours together exploring “the gay side of life.” Fin reluctantly agrees. Each boy will seek to answer the daunting question, Am I gay? Lennon pre-plans the day, filling the hours with what he assumes “gay life” is all about: shopping for fashionable clothing, indulging in lavish dessert crepes, boogying to Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off”, and yes, listening to show tunes.

However, Lennon quickly realizes that in creating his plan he has succumbed to the most common and distorted of gay stereotypes. Can he be gay and not fit them? And more importantly, is it possible that spending one very hard day and night together will help Fin accept that he’s gay, too? If so, maybe Lennon has a shot at winning the heart of the boy of his dreams.

A Hard Day’s Night is an amusing young adult contemporary romance about two boys who seek to discover if they must fulfill stereotypes to be together.

In the end, maybe all you need is love.

Enjoy an excerpt:

I park directly in front of the salon.

“The Best Little Hair House in Westfield?” Fin looks at me incredulously but doesn’t dish out a criticism. My dear friend Fin has great difficulty with that whole “calling it like he sees it” thing.

“I didn’t name the place,” I mutter as I jump out of the Jeep. After shaking his curly blond head a couple of times in what-did-I-get-myself-into disbelief, Fin does the same.

I’ll be sorry to see those pretty curls on the floor of the beauty salon, but we’re gonna endure our mutual makeover, one way or another.

In my opinion, having mutual makeovers spells togetherness as well as exploring our more feminine sides. “Come on. We have both of the salon’s haircutters booked for the next hour.” Then I mumble in a manner designed to be intentionally incoherent, “And we have a makeup artist for the following forty-five minutes....” Fin doesn’t hear this part and I think it’s for the best.

“Daaahlings, you must be Lennon and Fin....” Richard, I assume, since I recognize his sing-song voice from the phone call I made to set up our appointments, greets us at the door, air-kissing me and Fin, on both cheeks. I know immediately that if my goal is to immerse Fin and me in all things homosexual, we are in the right place. I find it hard to tear my eyes off Fin as he checks out the salon. I’ll sum up the salon’s décor like this: rainbow-glitter-velvet-jelly bean-explosion. And I’m pretty sure that Fin, coming from a lifestyle enhanced by the subtle shades of Williams-Sonoma and Restoration Hard- ware, has never laid eyes on anything quite this... this vibrant. And Richard’s lilting voice one more time sings out proudly, “Welcome to the Hair House!”

At this point, Fin, with extremely wide eyes, checks out the slick-haired narrow-eyed man who is going to beautify him. Not that Fin needs any enhancement in that department, whatsoever, because even if I weren’t gay, I’d recognize that Fin is a stunner. “I... um... thank you,” he says and offers his hand, which Richard grasps, lifts dramatically to his lips, and kisses very slowly.

“And I must insist that you call me Chard—all of my dearest friends do,” the stylist utters, a glimmer of hopefulness blatant in his sly, dark eyes.

Fin’s lips move but no sound comes out. He’s probably trying to formulate the words for what he is thinking: Are you kidding me—you call yourself Chard? Hahahaha!! But with no success, as Fin, like I mentioned before, has trouble with calling upside-down black heart shapes with tiny stems what they are—yeah, spades.

About the Author:Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty-two years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young people and their relationships, and she believes that physical intimacy has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press, CoolDudes Publishing, and CreateSpace for providing her with alternate places to stash her stories.

Mia is a social liberal and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights, especially marital equality. Now marital equality is the law of the land!! WOOT!! Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

Stop by Mia’s Blog with questions or comments, or simply share what’s on your mind.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mia.kerick
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6474518.Mia.Kerick
Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/Mia-Kerick/e/B009KSTG9E/ref=sr_ntt_srch_link_2?qid=1410298098&sr=8-2

Buy the book at Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Love Spell by Mia Kerick - Virtual Tour and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Mia will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Welcome to It's Raining Books, Mia. I hear you're feeling brave enough to share five things about yourself we might not guess or know.

Thank you for welcoming me to It’s Raining Books on my Love Spell Book Tour! I really like your guest blog post idea. It’s a new one for me. And I’m gonna have to think about it for a while.

Okay. I’m back. I think I’ve come up with a few mini-shockers. Just kidding… but there is some information here you might not have guessed about Mia Kerick.

As a high school student, my goal was to be famous. Yes, I wanted to be a star. I tried to sing my way to stardom (private classical vocal lesson for years), to strut my way there (lots of beauty pageants), to act my teenage butt off (summer stock theater), as well as to model. In my efforts to be a model, in high school I did some stupid things I would be furious at my children for doing, such as following a supposed photographer deep into a woodsy park, hanging a curtain in the trees to change my clothes behind, and modeling bathing suits and jumpsuits while leaning on rocks and trees. Sounds like a Criminal Minds episode waiting to happen, doesn’t it? (Luckily, it wasn’t.) As a freshman at Boston College, I hadn’t yet lost my desire for fame so I went to Newbury Street in Boston, dressed glamorously and carrying a handful of pictures from my potentially hazardous photo shoot in the woods, and visited various modeling agencies. At one agency, a top-dog-like man came out of his office, glanced at me briefly, and immediately proclaimed, “Her nose is too wide.” One agent asked no one in particular, “Why do all pretty girls think they have what is takes to be a model?” Still another told me, “Lose twenty pounds and come back.” (At 5’6”, I weighed 114 pounds back then.) But one agency, a children’s agency, was interested. I returned to Newbury Street within the week for my portfolio to be shot, and I will say, for a children’s agency, the photographer certainly took some risqué pictures of me. This was my last venture into modeling, as I suddenly became enthralled with the notion of being a high school social studies teacher. But I forever worried that my high school students would come across a racy picture of me online that would… um… interfere with my teaching career.

That revelation was long. Let’s count it for two, shall we?

My next revelation will be more of a confession. As far as television goes, I am addicted to crime and baseball. Nothing else is worth watching, in my humble opinion.

Let’s start with the crime shows I love to watch. I enjoy crime of all types. (No, I don’t enjoy it when crime actually occurs in real life, but there’s just something about the detective story—the horrifying crime, the examination of the facts, the science of the forensics, the pressing drama—that hooks me and drags me in.) I enjoy some weekly series, like Criminal Minds, CSI (I only like Miami and Las Vegas), and Law and Order in all of its varieties. I watch the same episodes over and over without getting bored or frustrated. There is nothing better than an all-weekend Law and Order Marathon—ah, there’s nothing like it. And true crime shows—I’m pretty much addicted to them. For some odd reason, they relax me. (Yeah, go figure.) Forensic Files is a favorite, as is EVERYTHING on the new ID television station on my cable. As a matter of fact, a repeat of 48 Hours is on right now. Comforting background sounds for my writing efforts.

And then there’s baseball. Could anything be more different from crime than baseball? Maybe, but I can’t think of it right now. I guess it’s because I understand baseball that I enjoy it. I (for the most part) am cool with the rules and the strategy. I get to know the guys on my team, The Boston Red Sox, by May, and I start to care about them. (I truly want them to be pleased with their own performances on the field. It is my top priority as a baseball fan.) I enjoy the “low-key” nature of baseball that haters call “boring”. Baseball is an in-control type of sport, except for the occasional bench-clearing brawl, and like crime stories, I find it comforting.

I don’t, however, write novels focusing on crime or baseball. Writers are quirky people, huh?

Hmm…. What else shall I tell you about me? Here’s a big one, and it relates to my romance writing. I have wanted to get married ever since I was eleven. Well, when I was eleven, I didn’t see what I longed for as “marital bliss”, but I remember back in the summer after fifth grade when I saw couples holding hands on the beach that I wanted what they had. And since the age of sixteen, I was definitely actively searching for Mr. Right AKA Mr. Permanent. It took me until I was almost twenty-seven to find him. Ironic, isn’t it?

One more interesting fact that you would never guess…. I have never been bored in my life. Never. My mind, like my main character Chance César’s in Love Spell, tends to overthink things. I actually hate to go to bed at night because I like being awake and thinking. So, I push off bedtime until 3AM or so. (I keep very odd hours.)

And now you know things about Mia Kerick that my four children do not know.

Strutting his stuff on the catwalk in black patent leather pumps and a snug orange tuxedo as this year’s Miss (ter) Harvest Moon feels so very right to Chance César, and yet he knows it should feel so very wrong.

As far back as he can remember, Chance has been “caught between genders.” (It’s quite a touchy subject; so don’t ask him about it.) However, he does not question his sexual orientation. Chance has no doubt about his gayness—he is very much out of the closet at his rural New Hampshire high school, where the other students avoid the kid they refer to as “girl-boy.”

But at the local Harvest Moon Festival, when Chance, the Pumpkin Pageant Queen, meets Jasper Donahue, the Pumpkin Carving King, sparks fly. So Chance sets out, with the help of his BFF, Emily, to make “Jazz” Donahue his man.

An article in an online women’s magazine, Ten Scientifically Proven Ways to Make a Man Fall in Love with You (with a bonus love spell thrown in for good measure), becomes the basis of their strategy to capture Jazz’s heart.

Quirky, comical, definitely flamboyant, and with an inner core of poignancy, Love Spell celebrates the diversity of a gender-fluid teen.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Lost: One Rat’s Ass, $10,000 Reward if Found and Returned In Good Condition to Rightful Owner

My parents are what you might call “rather apathetic” with regard to their sentiments toward the one who will, in theory, carry on the César name. Or at least that’s how I see it. Fair warning—I’m a person who likes to call spades exactly what they are. And even if I so badly wish the spade was a club, I still call the frigging thing a spade. So yeah, when I was young, I used to pretend like Mom and Dad gave a crap, but you can only pretend for so damned long. Now that I’m seventeen, any and all remnants of the “I love you, you love me—we’re a happy family” charade are ancient history.

Nope. They don’t give a rat’s ass about their only child, Chance.

Now don’t get me wrong—Mom and Dad possess no wish for lousy shit to fly my way. They just aren’t into the whole parenting thing, and I figure that’s their right.

But on the brighter side, they don’t give a rat’s ass that I’m gay. Nope, there’s no horrific, scarring homophobia going on in the César family home. And get this: my big “coming out of the closet” last year consisted of three lines of dialogue between my parents and moi:

Me: Mom, Dad… I’m gay… and I just thought you guys might want to know.

Dad (yawning): That’s nice, Chance.

Mom: Yeah, that’s great. Oh, by the way, it’s get-your-own-dinner-night… again.

Nope, nothing emotionally scarring there.

Good thing I’m the kind of guy who chooses to focus on the positive. I can walk around the house in full female stripper garb, and nobody bats an eyelash. If I conjure up any reaction at all, it might be that my mother asks me where I bought my sexy stretch-lace naughty knickers, as she’s been looking for ones in that color. And speaking of color choices, neither Mom nor Dad said a single word when I showed up with my hair dyed the flamboyant shade of a Cheez Doodle. Not only do I have complete freedom with how I express my personal style, but when I go all drama-queen mode on their asses, my parents just look at each other and shrug. In fact, I try—and I try fucker-nelly hard—but I just can’t shock these people.

I can barely get them to notice me.

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty-two years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young people and their relationships, and she believes that physical intimacy has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press, CoolDudes Publishing, and CreateSpace for providing her with alternate places to stash her stories.

Mia is a social liberal and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of human rights, especially marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

Stop by Mia’s Blog with questions or comments, or simply share what’s on your mind. Find Mia on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/mia.kerick), Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6474518.Mia.Kerick), and Amazon (http://amazon.com/Mia-Kerick/e/B009KSTG9E/).

a Rafflecopter giveaway