Pieces by Michelle Davidson Argyle Blog Tour (Guest Post)

Title: The Pieces (A Breakaway Novel #2)

Author: Michelle Davidson Argyle

Publisher: Rhemalda Publishing 

Release Date: February 14, 2013

Summary: (Goodreads) 

Two years after watching her kidnappers go to prison, Naomi Jensen is still in love with one of them. Jesse will be released in a few years, and Naomi knows college is the perfect distraction while she waits. But when her new friend Finn makes her question what is right and what is wrong, she begins to wonder if Jesse is the one for her … until she discovers he's out on parole. Naomi must sort through her confusion to figure out where love and freedom truly lie—in Finn, who has no connections to her past, or Jesse, who has just asked her to run away with him.

Pieces is a companion to The Breakaway and can be read independently, if desired.

Advice for aspiring writers

I get asked a lot what advice I have for aspiring writers. Sometimes I’m not sure how to answer because I’m afraid they expect a golden nugget of wisdom—something truly inspiring and different from anything they’ve ever heard before. I know when I was starting out, that’s what I expected. There had to be some secret, some surefire way not only to get published but to make it big, as well.

These days, when I’m asked what advice I can give authors, the answer comes a little more easily. It’s because after so many published books, so much marketing, and so much interaction with other authors, I’ve discovered only one thing matters when it comes to writing: keep writing. There’s only one way to get better, one way to get published, and one way to keep your career moving once you are published, and that is to keep writing no matter what gets in your way. Finish one book and write another, and another, and another. Get lots of feedback, and keep writing. Everything else is secondary.

 EXCERPT

Naomi woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Ignoring it, she rolled over in bed, hoping to feel Jesse next to her, but his side was empty and cold. She opened her eyes and sat up, relieved to see his luggage still on the floor and his shoes by her desk. He was probably in the shower. She lay back down, smiling. Everything felt perfect, and then her phone rang again. Annoyed, she reached over and grabbed it off her desk.

Karen Jensen.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she answered. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart. I hope I’m not calling during your classes. You told me Thursdays are free in the morning.”

Naomi glanced at her clock. It was ten-thirty. “Yeah, I have class in an hour.”

“Oh, good.”

A long pause. Naomi stared at the ceiling and wondered when Jesse would get back.

“So, how are you doing?” her mother asked.

“Fine.”

“That’s it? Fine? How are your classes?”

“Fine.” Naomi stared at Jesse’s luggage on the floor. It bothered her that she couldn’t tell her mother about him, but he was right—it wouldn’t go over well. Her throat felt scratchy when she swallowed. She threw off her blankets as the room seemed to shrink.

“So,” her mother said, drawing out the word as long as possible, “I’ll see you in a week, then?”

Naomi slid out of bed, her body sweating as she stood in the middle of her room. “I’m not coming for Thanksgiving,” she said, her voice so weak it sounded like a twig about to break. “I’m sorry, but I have to … I have to ….” She squeezed the phone and gulped. “There’s a guy here I want to spend some time with.”

“The one you were texting over the summer break?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s … that’s great, Naomi.” Her mother’s voice wavered. “But are you sure? You always come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I know.” Walking across the room, she opened her door and peered down the hallway. The bathroom door was open, the room dark, so Jesse wasn’t in there. Becca’s bedroom door was cracked open, but it looked dark inside. That was expected since she left at seven every morning.

“It’s okay if you stay there for the holiday,” her mother replied, as if she had final say over Naomi’s decision, “but maybe you can drive up to Elizabeth’s for dinner on Thanksgiving Day. It’s only two hours away. Or does this boy have family in Cambridge you’ll be eating dinner with?”

Elizabeth lived in Maine. The last thing Naomi wanted to do was drive up the coast and spend time with an aunt she barely knew. She decided to stay away from that topic. “He’s not a ‘boy’, Mom. He’s twenty-nine.”

Silence. Naomi stood at the top of the stairs, waiting. She wanted to hear her mother’s reaction to little facts dropped here and there about a man she had no idea was Jesse. If Naomi’s instincts were right, her mother would urge her to pursue any relationship outside of Jesse, even with an older man. That started an angry fire inside her gut.

“Twenty-nine is a good age,” her mother finally said, her voice slow and even. “I’m assuming he’s through school and has a career.”

“Yes.” Starting down the stairs, Naomi peeked into the living room and saw Jesse sitting on the couch, his back to her as he spoke quietly into his phone. In front of him on the coffee table was his laptop. He bent forward and scrolled down a page.

“Mom, I need to go,” Naomi said, trying to suppress the heat boiling inside her. Of course her mother would be okay with her dating a nice, upstanding twenty-nine-year-old with an established career.

“Alright, sweetheart, but are you sure about Thanksgiving? Elizabeth would love to have you up there.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Or maybe we can fly out there to be with you. Then we can meet this man.”

Naomi tensed. “No, Mom, please. It’s not that serious.”

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

Wincing, Naomi took a few more steps down the stairs. By now, Jesse had heard her talking and looked up from his computer. He closed the lid and said something into the phone before lowering it from his ear.

“Good morning,” he mouthed, smiling warmly.

She returned the smile, even though she felt like puking. She wasn’t lying to her mother, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth, either. It made her uneasy, as if she was trying to keep a handful of threads connected to everything in her life, and they were all unraveling and snapping at a tremendous rate. She kept trying to tie knots in them, but it wasn’t working. Finn was gone. School was nearly gone. And the thread to her mother had fifty knots, each one twisting away until Naomi stood staring at it, waiting for the final break.