Guest Post and Blog Tour for What Time is it There? by Christine Potter

WhatTimeTour

What Time is it There? by Christine Potter

Publication Date:  November 29, 2017

Publisher:  Evernight Teen

Just over a year ago, Bean and Zak headed for colleges two thousand miles apart, promising to write, but to see other people … until Bean fell for the wrong guy and Zak fell off the planet.

Now, Bean’s got two weeks’ worth of Zak’s year-old letters that she still can’t bear to open—and a broken heart. Her new best friend, a guy named Amp, wants her to read the letters and be done with it, but he may have his own reasons for that.

When Sam shows up at Bean’s school unexpectedly and Bean tumbles into the 19th century from the cellar of a ruined church, things start making a bizarre kind of sense. That is if she can just fit all the pieces together again…let’s see–there’s a cult…and the Flying Singing Angel With No Feet…and of course, The Grateful Dead…

EXCERPT

From early in the book. Bean has lost track of Zak at the beginning of the story. They’re
both in college, him in Seattle, she in upstate NY. The year is 1972; Bean’s a
sophomore. She can only see Zak by time traveling back to high school.

I will never, ever forgive myself, thought Bean, and allowed herself to
daydream once more about the gorgeous guy’s shirt she’d seen at Constant
Karma in Stormkill. It was green and blue and printed with elephants walking
trunk to tail. Zak would have loved it…but she had absolutely no idea where he
was. There were rumors he’d dropped out of college, like Sam. Call his mother
and ask? She simply couldn’t!
I bet he found someone else, Bean thought. I went silent and didn’t say
why. He’ll never want to hear from me again. Ever. Downstairs, Tone and
Julia were listening to opera. She shut her door.
She pulled the stack of Zak’s unopened letters out of her suitcase, and even
though they might contain a hint of what had happened, she couldn’t bear to
open even one. Instead, she got out her guitar and began dropping it into an
open D tuning for Joni Mitchell’s Marcie. There was probably a no less
Christmas-y song in the world.
As for Zak’s letters, Bean brought them back to college with her. And
home again at the end of the year. And then back to school for her sophomore
year: still sealed, every last one.

Link to Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36872940-what-time-is-it-there

Purchase Links:

BAM | Chapters | Indies | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

Link to Tour Schedule:

http://www.chapter-by-chapter.com/tour-schedule-what-time-is-it-there-by-christine-potter/

 Giveaway Details:

  • One (1) winner will receive a paperback copy of all 3 books in the series and a tie-dyed scarf (INT)
  • Two (2) winners will receive digital copies of all 3 books in the series (INT)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

all three

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/14438885.Christine_Potter

 

GUEST POST

The Road to Publication

What Time Is It There is the third book in the time-traveling young adult Bean
series. By the time I was drafting it, I felt like an old hand at writing young adult
novels—well, maybe an old hand…ish. Okay, I’ll be honest. I felt like a sorta-kinda- old hand, and that more on some days than others. The Bean Books were my first published fiction, and writers are incredibly insecure!
The Bean Books (Time Runs Away With Her, In Her Own Time, and What Time
Is It There?) have a sweet story behind them, though. I’d been trying to get Book One, Time Runs Away With Her, into print forever. One of the first people to read it all the way through was Karen Joy Fowler, author of The Jane Austen Book Club. In an enormous flash of good luck, I’d gotten accepted to her weeklong master class at a woman’s writing retreat on an island off Washington State. She liked the very early
draft I showed her, taught me how to write a mean-enough antagonist, and gave me the courage to withstand about eight hundred and fifty million rejections before my heroine Bean Donohue and I finally found our happy home at Evernight Teen.
I got Evernight Teen’s acceptance for that first book while I was on vacation on
Prince Edward Island. My husband and I were actually staying in a cottage that is
owned by the family of Lucy Maud Montgomery, author of Anne of Green Gables. Any writer of YA books has to be an Anne fan, and I couldn’t believe the way my life suddenly felt like fiction! I promptly visited Lucy Maud’s geranium-lined gravesite that July day, and spent a few quiet moments thanking her for the inspiration.

Book Two, In Her Own Time, started as a National Novel Writing Month project,
as did the last of the trilogy, What Time Is It There? November is National Novel
Writing Month, and it’s the perfect time to plant your posterior in a well-designed desk chair and pound the computer keys. Get that book done! The holidays are coming and you’ll be too distracted to revise much until January—which is how it should be. You won’t be able to see the holes in the plot until then, anyway.
Which, I guess, brings me to another point: revision. I didn’t revise every time I
got rejected, but I did revise a bunch. You hear about writers who claim things just pour out of them and it’s all about sitting down to let the words flow. Yeah, you may hear about those writers, but they don’t exist. In the very early stages of writing a book, maybe it’s like that. But the road to publication is not without traffic lights and speed bumps and stop signs. That’s what revision is.
I’ve gotten used to working with the really good editors at Evernight Teen. They
don’t miss much. They don’t let me get away with nonsense. When I get an accepted
but marked-up draft back to work on, I take note of what I can learn from it, and try to internalize that editor’s voice in my head for next time. And I thank all that is good and holy that the road that I’m traveling has led me to write—and publish—The Bean Books.
I hope you enjoy the conclusion to the trilogy, What Time Is It There?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DJingauthor_n

Christine Potter is a writer and poet who lives in a very old (haunted) house on a creek in Rockland County. She has an organist/choir director husband (Ken) and two spoiled tomcats. One of the house’s two ghosts lives in the room behind her office.

Christine’s newest book is a YA time travel novel, What Time Is It There? (The Bean Books, Book 3), newly released by Evernight Teen. The first book in the series is Time Runs Away With Her, and the second is In Her Own Time.

Her two poetry collections are Zero Degrees at First Light (2006) and Sheltering in Place (2013). She has also had poems published in Rattle, Fugue, The Irish Examiner, HOOT, Eclectica, and The Pedestal, among other magazines. Her third book of poems, Unforgetting, is due out this spring from Kelsay Books.

Website • Facebook • Goodreads

Chapter-by-Chapter-blog-tour-button

Advertisements

Book Blitz for The Librarian by Christy Sloat

 

The Librarian by Christy Sloat
Genre: YA Historical/Romance
Published June 17th, 2017
Published by CHBB Publishing
He’s from 1892 England, she’s in a small library in 2017. And that’s just the start of their troubles.
Emme never meant to stay in Maine. She’d come only to find a librarian for her Gram’s library, a custodian for the collection of mysterious books she’d promised to protect. On a dark, wintery night, alone in the library, she takes her first glance into one of the antique novels and finds herself transported to 1892 England staring into the eyes of handsome and dashing hero Jack Ridgewell. As each chapter passes she learns you can truly fall in love with a character in a book, that book boyfriends are real and Emme must choose between the real world, and his.
When the last page is read he’s gone and Emme feels the cold loneliness of lost love. Will she find Jack again, or will their love be forever lost? The answer lies within the pages…
About the Author:

Christy Sloat is a SoCal born girl who resides in New Jersey currently with her husband, two daughters and Sophie her Chihuahua. Christy has embraced the love of reading and writing since her youth and was inspired by her grandmother’s loving support. Christy passes that love of reading, writing, and creativity to her daughters, family, and friends. When you do not find Christy within the pages of a book you can find her being mommy, wife, crafter, and dear friend. She loves adventurous journeys with her friends and can be known to get lost inside a bookstore. Be sure to venture into her Past Lives Series, The Visitor’s Series, and watch for many more exciting things to come.
Check out her website www.christysloat.com
Instagram http://instagram.com/authorchristysloat_writes

Blog: http://authorchristysloat.weebly.com/, Facebook: Christy Sloat Author www.facebook.com/christysloatauthor. Twitter: ChristySloat

Read below for an excerpt from the book:

I spent the rest of the day filing paperwork for the funding process and preparing to open the library doors on Monday morning. I told Rose and Becca to spread the word. Tarryn had decided to move her smaller items in already, and she was asleep by nine the same night. It didn’t seem strange to me that I had a roommate; instead it made me feel comfortable. I never lived alone before, and I would feel lonely otherwise. Tarryn was quiet, but I knew in time she’d get used to me and I’d get used to her. We just needed to get to know each other first.
Once I was done with the paperwork, I filed the books that were left on the shelf from when Gram was still here. As I placed the classic books on the correct shelves, I felt a longing to finish reading my mysterious book in my nook.
So, instead of going to bed at a decent hour, I climbed into my cozy space and picked the book back up. I didn’t open it right away. Instead I inspected the outside for any sort of title. I found nothing of the sort. I flipped to the title page once more, trying to find my place, and that’s when I saw the word on the page. It was just a simple “The” typed out on the once blank title page. I ran my finger across it and realized it was printed in ink as if the press had done it. I was sure the night before it was blank, but then again, I was sure my dream about being with a man was real. So I wasn’t really a reliable source at the moment.
I found the spot where I ended with a dog-eared page. I absolutely hated doing this to the book and didn’t remember it at all. I usually had a nice bookmark, but this seemed to be the only thing to mark the page before I had fallen asleep. Running my fingers across the crease at the corner of the page, I settled back and started reading.
I woke up once again face down, this time I was in grass. I blinked my eyes and felt the blades of grass tickling my nose and lips. I pulled myself up and took a deep breath. I looked around and saw the fields upon which I had dreamt of the night before. I was back in England. I was dreaming the same dream. How odd.
There were times when I had thought I had the same dream over and over again, to only find out that it was my mind playing tricks on me. This was no mistake. I was, once again, in the same place.
“Emmeline, are you all right?” I looked up and blocked the sun from my eyes. The man from before was standing in front of me. “You … you disappeared. It happened so fast that I fear I cannot explain to you how it happened. Now you’re here once again.” He sounded really confused and, to put it lightly, so was I.
This dream felt way too real. It was exactly like before. So real and tangible that I couldn’t explain it even if I tried.
“I … I don’t know how I’m here again,” I mumbled.
He reached out to steady me as I swayed to the side. “You’ve been gone for days. I worried I was going mad, that your presence was one of my imaginings. I dared not to speak a word to anyone about it. I have to admit, Emmeline, I’ve been going slightly crazed since I saw you last.”
His hair was disheveled and he had grown a slight beard that only enhanced the sexiness of his strong jawline. His deep set blue-green eyes looked weary, and for that I felt awful.
My sudden disappearance had made him fall apart, that was apparent.
“I’ll tell you, I feel like I’m going crazy too. Trust me,” I admitted. “Can we sit somewhere? Out of the sun?”
“Of course.”
He held my arm and led me to a tree in the center of the field. Once underneath the large tree, I felt instantly better. I looked down at my clothes and saw that I was, once again, in my own clothes. This time a little better than before. I was wearing yoga pants and an old T-shirt.
“I can’t explain how or why I’m here. Hell, I don’t even know your name, but I’m here again and I’m beginning to think that this isn’t a dream. That I’m really here, with you,” I said as I touched his arm. “I’m not from … here.”
I didn’t know how to explain it to him, but I did the best any girl who was somehow traveling through time could. I didn’t have answers or explanations, but I had a gut feeling.
“I’m from a different time as you. As you can tell by my lovely clothing, I’m not from 1893.”
He placed his fingers on my lips, stopping me, while shaking his head.
“This isn’t right, Emmeline. Trickery at a time like this isn’t fair,” he said as he stood up fast. “I am leaving soon. I shall not have you doing this to me.”
My mouth fell open in shock and I stood. “Do something to you? Listen here, buddy, I didn’t ask for this. I sat down to read a book and then boom, I’m stuck in England with a stranger.”
I pointed at myself. “Look at me. Do I really look like I belong here?”
He looked at my clothing and up to my hair, and I could see his cheeks redden.
“You are dressed very indecent, I suppose. No woman I’ve ever met wears trousers. Nor do they wear clothing that fitting.”
I laughed. He thought this was indecent, he should see some of the dresses I had worn to parties. They were nothing like the dresses he was used to seeing on a woman. We absolutely didn’t dress ladylike anymore. My sexy little black dress that currently hung in my closet would definitely shock some of the people of this era for sure.
“I don’t know why I’m here. I’m absolutely not trying to, I don’t know, hurt you or anything. I don’t know how to go home.” I slumped back against the tree. “I wish that I could prove to you that I’m not lying to you, but I cannot. You’ll have to just believe me, I guess.” It was as simple as that. He could either believe this bat-shit crazy explanation or not. One way or another, I didn’t care. I just wanted to go home.
“I don’t know why, Emmeline, but I feel as if I should say that I do believe you.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, mussing it up. “I just don’t know how else to explain your abrupt presence. One minute you are here and the next you’re disappearing into thin air. I read many books on fiction, so I suppose it could be true.”
“Well, I may know someone who knows something. She works for the lucky bastard that owns that house,” I told him pointing to the house where Nancy was the last time I saw her. She was probably cooking something again for her master.
He smiled. “That house?”
“Yes. Her name is Nancy.”
“Ah. Nancy. And who is this Nancy woman you speak of?” He continued to smile as if this was a joke, but I ignored it.
“She’s a cook. I met her on my last visit here,” I explained. “She’s not the nicest person I’ve ever met, but I think she has some answers.”
“I must argue that Miss Nancy is more than a cook. She’s also the lady upon with which I trust my household while I’m gone. She’s more of an aunt than a housekeeper,” he said as he took my hand in his. “It’s very nice to finally introduce myself to you, Emmeline Bailey. I’m Jack Ridgewell or you may just call me the lucky bastard.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway