The highly anticipated third book in
Katie McGarry’s Thunder Road Series is being released on January 31st!
LONG WAY HOME is a Young Adult Contemporary Romance being published by
Harlequin Teen!
Pre-order your copy of the next book in this emotionally
charged series, and don’t miss Violet and Chevy’s story!
Check out the first
chapter below and be sure to pre-order your copy for the amazing bonus scenes!
Chevy
Chapter One
The instructions of the English
homework I didn’t do hang out from the top of my folder: Two roads diverged in a yellow
wood, And sorry I could not travel both.
Story of my life.
According to my football coach, I
chose wrongly on the two crap paths I had to face last week. I just ran into
Coach on the way to English, and he ripped into me for my sorry decision-making
skills when it came to me choosing to stand up for the Reign of Terror
Motorcycle Club instead of a member of my football team.
I didn’t just get my ass chewed
out, his tirade made me late for English with no tardy note. Which is great
since my English teacher hates late students like I hate riding my motorcycle
in forty degree weather while it rains.
I round the corner, then peek
through the small window on the door of my class. Ms. Whitlock stands in front
of her desk in her patented white button-down shirt, gray pencil skirt and
dark-rimmed glasses. From the back row, my best friend, Razor, meets my eyes
and shakes his head. Damn. That means she’s in one of her moods where she’s
refusing to let anyone in.
I’m not a
tail-tucked-between-my-legs type of guy, but this lady is one of the few who
can reduce me to begging. If she doesn’t let me in, then she’ll mark me as
absent, the front office will think I skipped, and that means I won’t be able
to play at tonight’s football game.
The window rattles when I knock.
The entire class turns their heads in my direction, but Ms. Whitlock doesn’t.
The muscles in my neck tighten. She is one of the hardest core people I know
and my grandfather is the president of a motorcycle club. That says something.
She starts for the whiteboard and
I knock on the door again. This time, Ms. Whitlock does look my way and she
grants me the type of glare reserved for people who kick puppies. I got it. I’m
late. I’m the scum of humanity, so let my ass in so I can play football.
There’s this guy in my club,
Pigpen. He’s about the same age as Ms. Whitlock, late twenties, and he’s a
walking hard-on for this woman even though she would never give him the time of
day. He practically runs into walls when she’s around because he’s too focused
on checking her out. I don’t see gorgeous—all I see is seriously pissed off and
the person standing between me and playing.
Ms. Whitlock points at the clock
over her desk. She’s telling me I can wait. If I’m lucky, she’ll open the door
after the quiz that I’ll receive a zero on. If I’m not so lucky, she won’t open
the door at all.
Two pathetic paths and I could
only travel one. Nowhere in that stupid poem did it mention there was good and
bad to both paths and that sometimes it’s best not to choose, but to set up
camp at the fork and do nothing at all.
I slam my hand into the nearest
locker, almost relishing the sting.
“Feel better?”
A glance across the hallway and I
freeze. Doesn’t matter how many times I see her in a day, she still manages to
take my breath away. Violet leans against the lockers as beautiful as ever. Red
silky hair flowing over her shoulders, a pair of ripped jeans that look like
they were tailored for her curves and enough bracelets around her wrists that
they clank together when she moves.
Do I feel better? Not really, but I nod anyway as I
try to judge if being alone with Violet causes more pain than having my balls
ripped off. “Didn’t hurt.”
“Yes, I can see how slamming your hand
against a locker didn’t hurt at all.”
My lips tilt up because she got me, and on
top of that, Violet made a joke. Since she broke up with me last spring, things
between us have been tense. On her side and on mine. Some people, like me and
Violet, aren’t supposed to break up. Some people, like me and Violet, don’t
know how to be near each other when we do part ways. “Are we talking now?”
“I’m locked out of class. You’re
locked out of class. I could ignore you if that’s what you want.”
It’s not. Her ignoring me is
never what I wanted. “Why are you late?”
Violet presses her lips together
and looks away. A sixth sense within me stirs. Something’s wrong. I’ve known
her my entire life. We were born only a few weeks apart and we learned to crawl
on the sticky floor of the Reign of Terror clubhouse. We were friends, always
friends, until one day, we weren’t just friends anymore. We became more until
we lost it all.
“Late’s not your thing,” I say.
Violet’s unconventional. Marches to her own drummer, but she’s not the type to
be late to class. It’s a respect thing for her, something her dad taught her
and Violet may never listen to another living soul, but she listened to her
father. “What’s going on?”
She’s silent and frustration
rumbles through me. Violet used to tell me everything. Used to see me as
someone who could help solve her problems. She doesn’t see me like that anymore
and it pisses me off. I’m angry at her for making us this way. Angry at myself
for not figuring out how to fix us.
“You being late wouldn’t have
anything to do with Stone, would it?” Stone’s her brother and the question’s a
shot in the dark, but I don’t want to miss the chance to keep conversation with
her going.
“Why are you late?” she replies
as a nonanswer and my head snaps up. Guess sometimes blind shots do hit their
mark. Violet was late because of Stone.
“What happened?” I push.
“I’m not talking about it.”
“Vi—”
She cuts me off. “I told you how
to help me and my brother six months ago and you told me no.”
By running away? No again to that
insane solution.
“Tell me why you’re late,” she
says. “If you don’t, then you need to stop talking, because the last thing
either of us needs right now beyond missing a quiz or possibly being marked as
absent is detention for getting into a shouting match.
At least it’s the last
thing I need, okay?”
I back up to the lockers across
from her and lightly hit my head against the metal. Yeah, I don’t want to talk
about why I’m late either. I shove a hand into my pocket and try to think of a
change in subject. Telling Violet I’m late because my football coach tore into
me for hitting a guy who was causing problems for the Terror, a guy who had
been causing problems for her, won’t help me and Violet stay civil. She’s mad
at the club, which makes her mad at me.
Violet’s watching me, and her
expression is a lot like someone trying to figure out a word problem for math.
Unfortunately, she knows me as well as I know her.
“Being late is going to cost you,
isn’t it?” she asks. “You can’t play tonight if she marks you absent, can you?”
I meet her blue eyes, and my
chest hurts at the sympathy I find there. I’d willingly miss tonight’s game if
I could rewind back to a time where I could talk to Violet with ease and that’s
not the type of trade I’d normally make.
Football is my life. So is the
motorcycle club. The Reign of Terror are my family—the blood kind and the bonds
of brotherhood kind. I don’t know who I am without the Terror, but to be
honest, I don’t know who I am without football either.
Lately, I’ve been torn between
the two, just like that poem, and everyone in my life has chosen a side. Violet
used to be the person I could talk to, but then she walked.
Six months ago, Violet asked me
to run away with her. She was driven by grief, driven by something she wouldn’t
tell me about. When I told her no, that we needed to stay home, to be near our
family, to be near the club, Violet returned the next night and announced I was
choosing the club over her and that we were done.
Being a running back, I’ve taken
more than my fair share of hits over the years, but I’ve never been as
blindsided as I was that night. Never experienced the type of pain her leaving
me created.
The door to the classroom opens
and a sense of relief washes over me. I’ll have to bust my ass to bring up my
grade thanks to that zero on the quiz, but at least I’ll be able to play
tonight.
Ms. Whitlock steps out and sizes
me up, then Violet. “I’m only letting you in if you have a note, otherwise you can
head to the office and hope they give you one.”
Screw me. There’s no way I’ll
make it to the office, get a note and return in time. Right as I’m about to
kick the hell out of the locker, Violet glides past me and hands in her note. “This
is Chevy’s.”
My head whips in her direction. “It’s
what?”
“Yours.” Violet meets my eyes. “Thanks
for offering it to me, but it’s not right for me to take it. I’m the one who
didn’t have a note, and I’m the one who needs to make it right.”
She begins walking backward, and
my short-circuited brain sparks back to life. I can’t let her do this. “Violet—”
“Have a good game tonight,” she
says, then disappears down the stairs.
“Are you joining us, Mr.
McKinley, or not?” Ms. Whitlock demands. Never met a person I hate as much as
this lady and it takes everything I have to force one foot in front of the
other.
Everyone watches me as I stalk
down the aisle then drop into the last seat in the row, the one next to Razor.
He’s calm, cool, blond hair, blue eyes, and he’s watching me like an owl who’s
considering whether it wants that unsuspecting mouse for a snack now or later.
Ms. Whitlock is lost in her own
world as she continues babbling about poem interpretations and people who died
too long ago. I can do little more than open my folder and stare at the top of
my homework.
“Chevy,” Razor whispers, and I
glance over at him. He points to the paper on his desk and in his messy
handwriting is You okay?
Yes, because I get to play football
tonight. No, because Violet sacrificed herself for it to happen. Hell no,
because the world’s messed up and I don’t know how to fix it. Worse no, because
I don’t know if I should read more into what Violet did—if it means somewhere
deep inside she still thinks we have a chance.
I shake my head, Razor nods and
the two of us stare at the whiteboard. Two roads. One path. Can’t take both.
The guy who wrote it acts like the choice should be easy. It’s not. And he also
didn’t mention what happens when people like Violet shove you onto a path
regardless of your thoughts.
“So how many of you liked the
poem?” Ms. Whitlock asks.
The entire class raises their
hands. Almost everyone, except for me and Razor.
And don’t miss
the next chapters of LONG WAY HOME!
January 12: YA
Books Central
January 13: Vilma’s Book Blog
January 13: Vilma’s Book Blog
LONG WAY HOME Synopsis
Seventeen-year-old Violet has always been expected to sit back and let the boys do all the saving.
It’s the code her father, a member of the Reign of Terror motorcycle club, raised her to live by. Yet when her dad is killed carrying out Terror business, Violet knows it’s up to her to do the saving. To protect herself, and her vulnerable younger brother, she needs to cut all ties with the club—including Chevy, the boy she’s known and loved her whole life.
But when a rival club comes after Violet, exposing old secrets and making new threats, she’s forced to question what she thought she knew about her father, the Reign of Terror, and what she thinks she wants. Which means re-evaluating everything: love, family, friends . . . and forgiveness.
Caught in the crosshairs between loyalty and freedom, Violet must decide whether old friends can be trusted—and if she’s strong enough to be the one person to save them all.
"An
intoxicating and unforgettable story that kept me glued to the page." ~ Kami Garcia, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Walk the Edge
Don’t Miss the First Two Titles in the Thunder Road Series! And WALK THE EDGE is just $1.99 in eBook for a limited time only! Grab your copies today!
Pre-order LONG WAY HOME by Katie McGarry, and fill out THIS FORM, to receive three
previously unreleased bonus scenes featuring important “firsts” in the lives of
your favorite characters from the world of Katie McGarry! Complete the form to register
your pre-order at https://wyng.com/campaign/820152.
Giveaway!
About Katie
McGarry
Katie McGarry was a teenager during the age of grunge and boy bands and remembers those years as the best and worst of her life. She is a lover of music, happy endings, reality television, and is a secret University of Kentucky basketball fan.
Katie is the author of full length YA novels, PUSHING THE LIMITS, DARE YOU TO, CRASH INTO YOU, TAKE ME ON, BREAKING THE RULES, and NOWHERE BUT HERE and the e-novellas, CROSSING THE LINE and RED AT NIGHT. Her debut YA novel, PUSHING THE LIMITS was a 2012 Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction, a RT Magazine's 2012 Reviewer's Choice Awards Nominee for Young Adult Contemporary Novel, a double Rita Finalist, and a 2013 YALSA Top Ten Teen Pick. DARE YOU TO was also a Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction and won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award for Young Adult Contemporary fiction in 2013.
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