Released: 3rd March 2017
Genre: YA Romance
Source: For review
Pages: 300
My Rating: 4 of 5 stars
They say everyone’s a superhero to someone. I’m not sure who I’m supposed
to save, but I know who saved me.
We were kids. His name was Christopher. And up until the day he pulled me
from death’s grip, he was nothing more than a boy I felt sorry for. In a
blink of an eye, he became the only person who made me feel safe.
And then he disappeared.
Now I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been for years. While death didn’t take me that day, the things that happened left me with scars—the kind that robbed me of everything I once loved and drove me into darkness. But more than anything else, that day—and every day since—has taken away my desire to dream. I wasn’t going to have hope. I wouldn’t let myself wish. Those things—they weren’t for girls like me. That’s what I believed…until the new boy. He’s nothing like the old boy. He’s taller and older. His hair is longer, and his body is lean—strong and ready for anything.
I don’t feel sorry for him. And sometimes, I hate him. He challenges me. From the moment I first saw him standing there on the baseball field, he pushed me—his eyes constantly questioning, doubting…daring. Still, something about him—it feels…familiar. He says his name is Wes.
But I can’t help but feel like he’s someone else. Someone from my past. Someone who’s come back to save me. This time, though, he’s too late. Josselyn Winters, the girl he once knew, is gone. I am the threat; I am my worst enemy. And he can’t save me from myself.
Now I’m seventeen. I’m not a kid anymore. I haven’t been for years. While death didn’t take me that day, the things that happened left me with scars—the kind that robbed me of everything I once loved and drove me into darkness. But more than anything else, that day—and every day since—has taken away my desire to dream. I wasn’t going to have hope. I wouldn’t let myself wish. Those things—they weren’t for girls like me. That’s what I believed…until the new boy. He’s nothing like the old boy. He’s taller and older. His hair is longer, and his body is lean—strong and ready for anything.
I don’t feel sorry for him. And sometimes, I hate him. He challenges me. From the moment I first saw him standing there on the baseball field, he pushed me—his eyes constantly questioning, doubting…daring. Still, something about him—it feels…familiar. He says his name is Wes.
But I can’t help but feel like he’s someone else. Someone from my past. Someone who’s come back to save me. This time, though, he’s too late. Josselyn Winters, the girl he once knew, is gone. I am the threat; I am my worst enemy. And he can’t save me from myself.
Thank you to Wordsmith Publicity for a copy of this book to review
At its core, this is a romance, one with the warm and fuzzy moments that are equal parts awkwardly cute and adorable. But of course, as with any book by this author - there is more to it than that. Scott deftly explores the strain of a father-daughter relationship after a family breakdown, how someone can turn around the questionable choices they've made in the past, the changes facing friendships and the bond between siblings which is unlike any other. Similar to Hold My Breath and The Hard Count, there is also a sporty aspect to A Boy Like You, in this case baseball. This added another dimension to the story, and as the coach's daughter, Joss had even higher expectations placed upon herself. Her character arc was one with more than a few bumps and mistakes along the way, but it did go to show that with the right support of someone who believes in you, the future can look brighter.
In all, this is a sweet book, but is not without some heart-wrenching moments thrown into the works. I'll be keeping an eye out for the sequel A Girl Like Me, coming soon!
Excerpt from A Boy Like You
I let my eyes drift back to the field,
where Wes is throwing balls to nobody, letting them hit the backstop. I push
from the wall and throw my bag over my back, my cleats untied and loose around
my feet as I trudge through the outfield toward him.
“I can catch for you…if you want,” I say.
He turns quickly at the sound of my voice, startled.
“Oh…uh, thanks, but it’s okay, I was almost
done, ” he says, jiggling his arm against his side as if it’s sore and tired.
He hasn’t thrown many pitches at all today, though. I know, because I’ve been
watching.
“You know, eventually you’re going to have
to give in to the fact that I can handle you,” I say, my eyes leveling him with
a challenge. He laughs lightly to himself, his lip held between his teeth as he
tugs down on the bill of his hat, shadowing his face, until he finally nods at
me.
“A’right,” he relents, shrugging to home
plate.
I step over to the backstop and throw the
dozen or so balls he pitched on his own back to him, and he drops them in his bag
near his feet one at a time. I brush the dirt from home plate with my glove,
then crouch down. I hold the pose for a few seconds while Wes stares at me, and
eventually he shakes his head with a quiet laugh.
“What?” I yell, dropping my arms to my
knees. I hate catching; it’s miserable. I only did it because it was him—he
needed help. No…I wanted to help. And now he’s laughing at me?
He jogs toward me in long, slow strides,
and I stand, leaning with my glove against my hip. He’s wearing dark blue
shorts over black compression pants, and unlike the other boys on my dad’s
team, he actually looks good in them—like a real ballplayer. I look away and
take a step or two back when he gets closer, but he reaches for my arm,
catching my elbow with his fingers. My eyes go right to his hold and then to
his face where he’s waiting for me with the same expression I have.
“Sorry,” he says, letting go of me quickly.
I feel the loss of his touch.
Kneeling down, he urges me to do the same
next to him, shirking his glove from his hand and holding his palms on the
insides of his thighs. “You are sitting like this. It’s unsteady, and you’re
going to get tired…fast,” he says, his eyes gliding over to my legs. He licks
his lips, and sucks in a slow but heavy breath, before putting one knee down
and bringing his hand to my leg, glancing at me quickly for permission before
resting his fingertips on my kneecap. His touch is cautious and purposeful.
It’s also powerful, and I feel it.
“If you just turn…like this, and then shift
your weight,” he says, tugging my knee out gently before clearing his throat
slightly as his eyes run up my thigh. He stands abruptly, and I let down one
knee to rest my legs. “Anyhow, I just figured maybe you never caught before,
and I could show you something. You probably already knew that though, so—”
“Thanks,” I interrupt him before he steps
away. I’m not warm and fuzzy. I make him nervous. And I regret that. “Really,”
I add, as he tilts his head sideways over his shoulder, glancing back at me.
“My dad use to show me stuff like that, but…it’s been a while.”
His lip pulls up with sympathy, and he
looks down before glancing back at me with a sideways tilt of the head, raising
the ball in his hand. “Let’s try a few,” he says, walking back to the mound.
I kneel just as he taught me, and my legs
shake a little at first, so I adjust my knees more, giving myself a base. “I’m
good,” I say, pounding the center of my glove and holding it out for his
target.
Wes nods, then winds up for a pitch. He
throws a changeup, and I know he did it because he doesn’t want me to get hurt
catching anything faster. The fighter in me wants to spit and tell him to give
me the real stuff, but the girl I am—the one that likes the way he looks at
me—is okay with the fact that he wants to protect me.
“That looked good,” I say, throwing the
ball back to him. His lips twist into a crooked grin, and he tugs his hat low
again before winding up for another pitch. I praised him, and he liked it.
I liked that.
For more on her and her work, visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com. When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks.
Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).
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