The Worst Kind of Love by Jonah Evarts Book Tour and Giveaway :)
The
Worst Kind of Love
by
Jonah Evarts
Genre:
YA Fiction
This
is a love story. Just not the kind you're thinking of.
Jaden
is dealing with some major heart aches as he enters his first
semester of college. All he wants is to forget about his ex, find a
new girlfriend, and get semi-decent grades. But life has much more
complicated plans for him. During his first day of class, he meets
Cole, probably the most attractive male human being on the planet.
Jaden is immediately overshadowed, throwing a wrench in his plans to
find a girlfriend. It doesn't help that the single girl he is
interested in wants absolutely nothing to do with him.
That
soon becomes the least of his problems, as old enemies of his mental
health, family, and way of thinking begin to overtake his life. Jaden
tells a story of friendship, learning, and love as he uncovers truths
about himself and life. A journey of endurance and self-growth awaits
him as he skates through the roller-coaster that is life with many
movie nights and plenty of good food to help him get by.
He
isn't trying to have a love story, but he's getting one anyway. With
himself.
**only
.99 cents!!**
We
reached the parking garage, and I led him through a labyrinth of Prii
(the plural of Prius), until we reached my Corvette. Now, I know what
you’re thinking. I seem to be complaining a lot about life, but I
drive a freaking Corvette. But what you don’t know is that we got
the money from life-insurance when my dad died. Now how do you feel?
Be ashamed, ye judgmental heathen. “Woah,”
Cole said. “This is yours?” I
nodded, throwing my backpack in the back seat and unlocking the
doors. Cole sat down carefully, so as not to ruin the already stained
leather and cracked passenger side rearview mirror. I
never said I was a good driver, or a good holder of drinks. “Where
do you wanna go for lunch?” I asked. Cole
wrinkled his brow and rubbed at a non-existent beard. “McDonald’s?” “Are
you kidding me?” He
looked taken aback. “What do you mean? McDonald’s is never a bad
choice.” I
opened my mouth to say something then shook my head and just started
the car. Inside, I was shaking. You mean to tell me that underneath
that rippling muscle and clear skin was a McChicken? I think not. God,
you gave all the good things to one person. Please stop. We
arrived a McDonald’s six minutes later, our backs drenched in
sweat, and sunglasses plastered to our faces. We walked into the
heavenly coolness of irresistible French fry smells, and I sat down
as Cole ordered some food. He joined me in a booth just a couple
minutes later. “So,”
he started, fanning his shirt. “Tell me some more about yourself.
What kind of stuff do you like to do?” I
wasn’t sure if I should hate that he wanted to get to know me or be
genuinely pleased that someone cared. “I
watch movies a lot. I sometimes play basketball. And I listen to tons
of music.” Cole
sat up straight at the mention of music. “You make music?” “What?
No, that’s not what I said. Dear God, I’d be arrested for
attempted murder if I sang in public.” “Oh.
Well, I make music sometimes. I play guitar and sing.” Of
course. “Really?” “Really.
I’ll show you some of my stuff in the car.” A
number was called from the counter, and Cole went to get his food. I
kicked at his seat when he left. How?
How on my first day, in my first class, had I met a guy so perfect
that he would overshadow me in every way everywhere we went? I just
wanted a girlfriend, man. God. Cole
came back with a tray full of food, multiple fries and chicken nugget
boxes clustered together. “Jesus,
man. What are you eating, Ronald McDonald himself?” I asked. “Well,
no. Half is for you,” he stated matter-of-factly. He proceeded to
rip open a box of nuggets and indulge. “You
got me food?” He
didn’t even look up at me. “Of course.” I
almost didn’t want to take any. I felt bad, taking food from a guy
I’d just met. But then again, it’s not like he was suffering at
the moment. I indulged in the mounds of nuggets with him. At
some point, I checked my phone. You know, millennial stuff. I
scrolled through social media and lightly chuckled at something that
wasn’t really that funny. I switched apps, and immediately, a
picture of Maddie with her best friend popped up. I almost dropped my
phone, which I guess wouldn’t have been so bad. I wouldn’t have
had to look at her face for another half a second before I was able
to close out of the app. I
choked on my food and had to force myself to swallow, then I put my
head in my hand and held my breath. It stung. A lot. Seeing her face
was hard for me. I shouldn’t have opened the stupid app. Cole,
true to his perfect persona, saw my moment of heartbreak and looked
up at me concernedly. “Hey
man, you good?” I
closed my eyes, picturing her face again. “Yeah. I’m fine. Food
just got stuck in my throat.” If I
was close with him then, I would have told him the truth. The truth
about how my gut had just fallen out of my stomach, and how an aching
need to be with her filled my body. I just missed her was all. It was
like when I lost my dad. “You
sure?” He asked. I nodded, then opened my eyes and realized we had
already decimated all the food he’d bought. “Yeah. We should get going. I have another class in thirty minutes.”
Jonah Evarts is only 18 years old, and began writing his debut novel when he was just 15. He lives in Manhattan, Kansas with two old people who gave birth to him, a twenty-something dude that lives in the basement, and two adorable canines. Growing up as a military child, Jonah lived in Alabama, Georgia, Texas, and Korea (yes really) before coming to Kansas. He says that Kansas is boring. He may be correct. Jonah loves movies, music, and the occasional writing of a book. He hopes to combine these three activities in the future, and make a career out of it. Support this poor man-child in his attempt to do something with his life.
Being
a young author, and the lessons it taught me
I
wrote my first novel from the ages fifteen to seventeen. It was a
long, tiresome process that went through astronomical changes over
the course of its creation. By the end, I was a completely different
person than I had been when I began. Coupled with the fact that I’d
kept the project in the dark until near the end of its time, I had
gone about the process on my own, while going through puberty, and
with an ever-changing concept of how I viewed the world. Those, in
short, are the reasons that my first novel didn’t know what it
wanted to be, and why I never gave it a chance to truly flourish.
Being
a young author changes the way that you write in a multitude of
areas. As I said, puberty affects a teenager in… quite a few ways.
I started writing the book barely having hit my real growth spurts,
only beginning to figure out who I was in a school setting, and still
not truly understanding what the Pythagorean theorem was. That last
one isn’t relevant to my journey as a writer, but god, math sucks.
The reality was that I was constantly changing my identity, figuring
out how life worked, and understanding new truths about the world
every single day. And that changed the directions I took my writing.
For instance, after a break up, I would focus more on a romantic
aspect than an adventurous one. But then on days when I was in a
really good mood, the mood would swing the other way. It created an
unfocused feel for my book with flat characters that I never gave a
chance to grow in the way I did.
Then
there was the fact that in high-school, being yourself can be scary.
I had been a jock for most of my life, playing baseball, basketball,
football, and just about any other sport they would let me play.
After a multitude of injuries and a loss of interest in some sports,
I found myself at a crossroads. I decided that writing a book would
be a good way to fill my time. The problem with that was, that’s
totally lame. I didn’t tell anyone about what I was doing, save a
couple close friends and family members. That was a huge mistake.
Being non-inclusive with my writing, especially my very first novel,
really pigeonholed me to my own narrow and limited experience on life
thus far.
My
first novel was a mess… and it was the absolutely most valuable
thing I’ve ever done in my life. I regret not a single word written
on those pages, and I never will. If I hadn’t gone through that
process, I never would have believed that I could do it again. I
never would have created something that some people go their whole
lives wishing they could do. I encourage anyone who is wishing to
write a book but isn’t sure of themselves to take a step back and
realize that the first time doesn’t have to be perfect, not by a
long shot.
While
my youth highlighted the growth and constant change of life, those
two things are a guarantee for every single person alive. You will
change over the course of writing a book, that is a fact. You will
want to never let anyone read it at some point, because it’s scary.
Being a young author only made those two facts evident to me and
helped me shape the course of my next novel, which I’m incredibly
proud of and is a humongous step up from my first one. Writing will
never be a set process, because human beings aren’t set creatures.
Writing will never be easy to expose to the world, because fear of
rejection is a human response. My youth exposed me to that very
quickly, because as a teenager, you place yourself on a pedestal you
believe the whole world is staring at. Growth doesn’t have to stop
you from creating something beautiful, in fact, with time and
experience, it helps you form a story better than you could have
originally imagined.
Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
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