Have you ever had a character stick in your mind? Even when you didn’t like them? And no matter what you did, they kept coming back?
That’s what happened to me with Farah Menins. Farah was in my first book, The Lance Temptation. She was the rotten girl, the mean girl. I didn’t like her at all. But when the book was over and finished, she wouldn’t shut up. She yammered and yammered at me.
I finally gave in and wrote her book. And wonder of wonders – once I got to know her better, I actually became fond of her. I liked her toughness, her snarky attitude, her survival instincts.
Today, Farah’s Deadline releases.
Here’s the blurb:
Sassy, strong-willed, and pregnant, Farah Menins plans to be married at sixteen after her dad dumps her in a “special home” to be rid of her. Trapped in a place full of rules, Farah refuses to admit defeat — not when marriage would give her an out.
Farah’s roommate Lizbet hides her own painful secrets, and together, they forge an unlikely friendship when Farah sneaks off to confront her baby’s father. A dead baby, a mystery brother, and a house fire threaten to derail Farah’s plans. The confusion is compounded when Lizbet’s brother shows interest in her. With time running out, will Farah be able to salvage any of her dream?
Here’s an excerpt to give you a taste:
I planned to be married at sixteen.
Note to self: Things don’t always go as planned.
Which was why I was riding in the front seat of our car, a virtual prisoner. Dad pulled into the long, curving driveway of Pleasant Living Home. The name itself was enough to make a person gag — and being two months pregnant, I’d been gagging plenty.
Dad’s knuckles blanched white on the steering wheel, and a thin moustache of sweat lined his upper lip. He stopped the car under an ivy-covered portico and glanced over at me.
“We’re here, kiddo,” he said. His voice climbed an octave, and a slight tremor shook beneath his words.
“So I see.”
“This is it.” He stared at me, I guess waiting for me to agree or gush or fall at his feet with gratitude. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
A few seconds passed, and I muttered, “Right.” Unlike my dad’s, there was no tremor in my voice, only steel. I wouldn’t be staying at Pleasant Living Home for long. I wouldn’t have to — Pete would rescue me. He’d been a total pig earlier, but he’d change his tune.
“Shall we get your things?” Dad asked, grabbing the door handle.
“Oh, let’s.” The steel in my voice morphed into snarky sarcasm.
Dad jumped out of the car as if going on a picnic. I knew the reason for his enthusiasm — sheer relief to be dumping off his problem child. Never, under any circumstances, should people face their problems. I’d learned that lesson years ago when Dad and Mom kicked my brother out of the house, and later when Mom kicked Dad out.
Now, it was my turn to be kicked.
To a pregnancy home no less. Who knew they even existed anymore? What was this — the 1950s?
I pushed open the heavy door, climbed out, and surveyed Pleasant Living Home. The rambling brick house was set back off the road, smack in the middle of winter-naked trees. Every window was decked out with one of those miniature lamps — the kind meant to welcome strangers, losers, and injured strays.
Which one was I?
I’d be delighted if you’d grab a copy! And I’d love to hear your thoughts about the book. You can get it here:
If you enjoy it, I’d be thrilled if you would write an honest review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and/or Goodreads. Reviews are super helpful to authors and MUCH appreciated!
Thanks friends! I hope you enjoy Farah’s Deadline!
And as always, thanks for stopping by.
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