This is the best way to start 2015, celebrating the upcoming release of Ingrid Sundberg’s All We Left Behind with the Canadian Exclusive cover reveal. In conjunction with Tirzah Price’s blog, The Compulsive Reader in the U.S., my blog is revealing Ingrid’s cover and also giving you one of two sneak peeks. (Go to The Compulsive Reader to see the other one.)
Ingrid is a fellow Dystropian and dear friend who continues to inspire me with her fearlessness towards craft. Recently, she created this incredible Grinch window display for Vroman’s bookstore. On her blog, Ingrid devotes her time to understanding and sharing her process. She vehemently supports her friends and creative partners, and is a writer with incredible range and skill. She can write (and draw!) an hilarious and subversive picture book and (as you will see below) also create a lyrically gorgeous YA novel.
Here is the cover!
More About Ingrid
Ingrid Sundberg holds an MFA in writing for children from the Vermont College of Fine Arts and an MFA in screenwriting from Chapman University. She grew up in Maine, but now lives in sunny California, where she misses the colors of autumn. She loves polka dots, baking, and dying her hair every color of the rainbow. All We Left Behind is her first novel. Find her online at: www.ingridsnotes.wordpress.com
Release Date: December, 2015
Publisher: Simon and Schuster Canada
About All We Left Behind:
When introspective wallflower Marion Taylor meets sexy soccer captain Kurt Medford, what seems like a sure thing turns into a total mess. One minute they’re alone in the middle of the lake, rousing sparks of electricity, and the next they’re on dry land, pretending they don’t even know each other. But rather than the end, that night is the start of something. Something real and terrifying and unforgettable.
As Marion and Kurt struggle to build the fragile pieces of a relationship, every kiss uncovers memories both of them would rather stay buried. Marion desperately wants to trust him, to share the one secret she’s never told anyone—but some truths aren’t meant to be spoken aloud. While Kurt is still haunted by his mother’s death, by the people he hurt and by the mistakes he can never take back. Explosive together and hollow apart, Marion and Kurt may be totally wrong for each other—or more right than they ever thought possible.
The Sneak Peek
Through the ear buds I hear the faint thrum of my guitar. Strumming. And my hands go weak. They drop to her waist, barely touching. I can fight part of this, but I can’t fight all of it. If she was just a little closer, instinct might kick in. She might go back to being any girl, and not the one who won’t get in my car. Not the one who –
My lips. Her lips.
God, she tastes good.
I press my weight into her, leaning us against the car. Not fast. Not hungry. Not like normal – but slow – because she tastes so damn good, and I don’t want it to stop.
In fact, I’m not sure I can stop with how good this feels. Like crazy good. Like better than running, or breathing. I press my hip into her and she moans softly, and holy shit, I want to take her into my car right now.
But I can’t.
I fucked that up already, which is why none of this makes sense.
I nibble on her bottom lip and I don’t stop kissing her. I should. I really should. This is going to be a mistake and not just because of my car. I shouldn’t want this so much. And I don’t know why I do.
I feel drunk. But not the bad kind of drunk that numbs everything. It’s the good kind. The kind where I don’t want to be anywhere but right here, right now, and the world could end and I wouldn’t care. And it seems stupid to have spent so much time being numb, when I could feel like this.
I should stop kissing her.
I really should.
But I don’t.
My mouth responds to his, listening to this melody blooming, his music in my ears. And I know he’s sharing something with me. This song. This secret …
He steps away from me and the separation of him, the weight of him – off of me – makes my whole body ache with the suddenness of it.
The weightless-ness of it.
“Marion, I, I –” He looks at me with that same fear from the ridge, like all this is broken. And I’m desperate to tell him it’s not like that.
“Kurt, it’s … It’s –”
But it is like that. It is creek water and cars and still wanting the nearness of him.
I pull out the ear buds, needing the silence. I coil the wires into the shape of a small white nest, cradled in my palm, and that song, this moment, it all seems too precious and rare.
I give it back to him.
Again, for the first of the two sneak peeks, go to The Compulsive Reader.