Hi Ya’ll! I’m so excited to share with you a brand new
cover for my Contemporary Young Adult novel Becoming Bryn. This fun
contemporary young adult story was republished in 2015 complete with a new
cover. Here’s what some of the reviewers are saying about Becoming Bryn.
Becoming Bryn went to places I didn't expect. You want to
laugh and cry and swoon (yes, very much swooning indeed... there was an
excellent kiss... not telling you with WHO though!) and not be able to put the
book down because of it. Angela Carling knows how to hold together an intricate
story and tell it in the best way possible.
The book is beautifully written very well done from start
to finish. I ended up staying up super late till three in the morning reading,
even had tears in my eyes because the end is just so amazing.
-Mandy Sickle
Here’s the blurb you’ll find on the back of the book and
THE NEW COVER FOR BECOMING BRYN!
For
months, Jesse has been envious of her twin sister Bryn and even has a crush on
Bryn’s gorgeous, popular boyfriend, Quinton. When Jesse awakens from a coma to
learn that everyone thinks she IS Bryn, the option of actually taking over her
sister’s life is beyond tempting, but there’s a downside. She’d have to give up
her relationship with Ethan, her best friend and the only person she trusts.
Could she actually live s Bryn for the rest of her life? And if her family and
friends found out, would they ever forgive her?
AND
NOW…..the new cover for Becoming Bryn!!!!
Want to read it (or any other one of my books) for
yourself? Get your digital copy here.
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/becoming-bryn-angela-carling/1115422613?ean=9781935089667
The night air was balmy, and after awhile we
turned off the air conditioning and opened the sunroof. Last summer Bryn and I
had spent hours shopping with our dad, looking for a car we could live with and
Dad could afford. Neither of us had seen a Honda four-door from the nineties as
our dream car, but the sunroof had made it all better. The sunroof was the only
reason we begged Dad to get it for us. He bought it on one condition, that Bryn
and I would be willing to share the vehicle. Tonight as we drove down the
weathered two-lane road toward the corn maze, warm air slipped in through the
sunroof, brushing against our cheeks and dancing through our hair. Between the
smell of freshly cut corn and alfalfa and the open sunroof, I felt so alive,
almost untouchable. “Turn on the radio,” Bryn said loudly over the moving air
above us. I reached over and pushed the plastic knob. Inside the car, the air
was instantly charged with the pounding beat of a dance song. We both belted
out the lyrics, singing badly but joyously over the radio. I looked over at Bryn
as she sang. Pieces of her carefully done hair had escaped from their bobby pin
prison and now flew wildly around her face. She looked happy and surprisingly,
for a moment, I felt a sense of contentment. It wasn’t genuine happiness, but
it was enough for tonight.
Up ahead on the
right side of the road, I could see the tall stalks of the corn maze. Next to
the maze sat a small organic supermarket. I’d been to the store with my mom to
buy local honey a couple of years ago. That day, I’d ended up waiting an extra
thirty minutes while she chatted with the owner as if they were old friends.
I’d tuned out a lot of the conversation but I did learn that the same family
who grew the corn maze owned the store and a citrus orchard just behind that.
Tonight the market was decorated with long strands of small orange and purple
lights. Out front, leaning up against a weathered picket fence that ran the
perimeter of the property, was a large hand painted sign that read: Haunted
Corn Maze, $8.00. As we got closer, I could see that just beyond the fence,
waiting for the maze to open up was a large crowd of people dressed up as
everything from doctors to vampires. We knew somewhere in the mass of people
were our friends.
There was no turn lane on the narrow road, so
I flipped on my turn signal and began to slow down just before the dirt
entrance that led to the market came into view. Bryn, who had been straining to
look past me for her friends, finally gave up and undid her seatbelt. By the
time we stopped, she was hanging out of the sunroof, waving wildly and yelling
across the street to a couple of the girls I recognized as cheerleaders on
Bryn’s squad. I looked up at her, smiling, so excited and confident… Then as I
glanced in the rear view mirror I saw another car coming up behind us. The car
was weaving all over the road and driving way too fast. Worst of all, I could
see from the headlights behind him that the driver wasn’t paying attention,
that he was looking down at something in his lap.
Like a voice in my
head, I remembered my mom complaining about the fact that there was no turn
lane to get into the farmer’s market, talking about how dangerous it was.
“Someone’s going to die out here,” she’d said. I thought she was being
melodramatic.
I watched
helplessly as the car barreled towards us. There was nowhere to go. There were
only two lanes and a constant stream of cars came from the other direction.
Even if I’d wanted to pull off the road, a huge canal filled with irrigation
water made it impossible. Panic began to surge through my veins in the form of
adrenaline; yet suddenly, simultaneously, time seemed to crawl, putting
everything around me into slow motion. The approaching car, the screaming
teenagers across the street, my sister calling out to them – it felt choppy, like
an old silent movie. I could imagine in my head a black and white version of
the scene with comments added like, “Oh no, we’re going to die!” written in old
typewriter text against a flimsy screen.
Just before the car
behind us made impact, I could feel myself laughing darkly at my own imagery.
Then, in my ears and in my bones I heard and felt the crushing of metal as the
car struck us with full force from behind, launching us like a pinball in a
classic pinball machine, shooting us forward with deadly aim right into
oncoming traffic. For a second, or maybe half a second, I was aware of my
sister’s legs being lifted from the seat she was standing on, and I knew
somewhere above me she was being thrown around like a ragdoll. Then I saw
nothing but the enormous cement truck right in front of us. Somehow I knew the
truck driver had no time to change his course, and my heart, which suddenly
felt as if it was made of lead, plummeted into my stomach. With only feet
between us, I noticed that the word “Rock Solid” had been plastered across the
black exterior paint of the truck. Clever, I thought morbidly, remembering that
I had seen similar trucks in our neighborhood. Then before total panic could
even really set in, before I could scream or cry, or move out of his path, our
tiny economy car and his massive cement truck collided and all of my thoughts
and fears and impulses slipped away into total blackness.
If you are new to my blog. Here's a little about me.
Angela Carling was raised in Palm Springs California, but lives Arizona
with her husband, three kids and five felines.
After years of denial she finally admitted that she is a hopeless
romantic which led her to write her first Young Adult book Unbreakable Love.
Since then she’s published three more books, Shackled, Becoming Bryn and The
Secret Keeper. Shackled won the silver IPGA award in 2012 and has been optioned
as a screenplay. She always eats the frosting off her cake and leaves the rest,
and can be caught singing in public bathrooms just for the acoustics. When she’s not writing YA novels, she’s
mentoring teen writers, making pizza with her family or dreaming of taking a
nap, not necessarily in that order.
Stalk me! I dig it!
