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RELEASE DAY: Whatever Life Throws At You by Julie Cross

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We are so excited to bring you the Release Day Launch for Julie Cross' WHATEVER LIFE THROWS AT YOU! WHATEVER LIFE THROWS AT YOU is a Young Adult Contemporary Romance, published by Entangled Teen!!

I LOVED this book! To read my review, click HERE.
Whatever Life Throws at You
  Seventeen-year-old Annie Lucas is too young to remember her dadā€™s glory days as a pitcher for the Yankees. So when her father is offered a coaching position with the Kansas City Royals, Annie is intrigued to see the baseball side of her dad. Of course, knowing heā€™ll be a mentor to hot young rookie pitcher, Jason Brody, certainly makes it more enticing. After an awkward first meeting with ā€œBrodyā€ involving very little clothing and a much-too-personal locker room interview, Annieā€™s convinced she knows Brodyā€™s type: arrogant, self-involved, bossy. As her dad grows closer to the pitching phenom, the friction between Brody and Annie increases. But when opening day arrives and it looks like both her dad and Brody may lose their dream jobs, Annie steps up and offers support. She and Brody call a truce that grows into friendshipā€”and beyond. Falling for a rising star whoā€™s quickly reaching a level that involves rabid female fans is not what Annie would call smart, except suddenly sheā€™s getting hints that maybe this crush isnā€™t one-sided after all. Could someone like Brody actually fall for a girl like her?     

 


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Excerpt: 
He eyes me skeptically. ā€œWhat kind of article?ā€

ā€œItā€™s for Sports Illustrated,ā€ I say without hesitation and then quickly realize that I donā€™t look nearly old enough to be a real reporter for a huge publication. ā€œIā€™m an intern,ā€ I add.

The skepticism falls from his face and he looks nervous, which gives me a boost of confidence. I walk closer and pull out the chair in front of the locker beside his, propping my feet up on the bench across from me. ā€œFrank Steadman said youā€™d be willing to answer a few questions.ā€

His mouth falls open, and he looks down at his towel and then back at me. Water drips from his hair and off his dark shoulders. ā€œUm...okay,ā€ he says. ā€œMind if I get dressed first?ā€

I wave off his concerns, my face heating up, blowing my confident cover. But him getting dressed might allow enough time for Dad to return, and Iā€™d rather not have to deal with that. I duck my head down, letting my hair hide my cheeks and flip open the first page of the notebook. ā€œThis will just take a minute... So, youā€™re nineteen? And youā€™re from Texas?ā€

ā€œChicago,ā€ he corrects.

I had no idea where he was from but figured it sounded better if I pretended to know. I write down this information and then search my brain for some more questions. ā€œDoes the wind in Chicago affect your curveball? Do you throw into it or against it?ā€

He gives me a funny look. ā€œI...well...I just throw toward home plate.ā€

My face gets even hotter. ā€œRight, kidding. Whatā€™s your favorite color?ā€

ā€œOrange.ā€

I take my time writing orange in really big loopy cursive while I think of my next question.

ā€œWhat are your opinions on sushi?ā€

His forehead wrinkles like Iā€™ve just asked him to publicly declare a political party. ā€œRaw fish and seaweed? I think itā€™s best eaten while stranded on a desert island with no other options.ā€

ā€œVery diplomatic.ā€ I scribble down his answer. ā€œHow many strikes have you thrown in your career?ā€

ā€œDonā€™t know,ā€ he says. ā€œDo people actually count that stuff? Before the majors?ā€

ā€œSome of them do,ā€ I say, though I have no idea. ā€œIf you could be any magical creature in the Harry Potter series, which would you choose?ā€

ā€œYou said this is for Sports Illustrated, right?ā€

ā€œYeees, But itā€™s the...kidsā€™ edition.ā€

ā€œOh, right.ā€ He scratches the back of his head. ā€œI guess maybe one of those elves.ā€

ā€œA house elf? Seriously? Theyā€™re slaves.ā€ I shake my head. ā€œWhy would you want to be an enslaved elf? They canā€™t even wear clothes.ā€

He grips his towel tighter and releases a frustrated breath. ā€œFine, Iā€™ll choose an owl. Thatā€™s what Iā€™d want to be.ā€

I snort back a laugh and drop my eyes to the page again.

ā€œWhat? What the hellā€™s wrong with being an owl? Theyā€™re smart, they know geography and sh*t like that.ā€

ā€œOwls in real life are actually pretty stupid. But no big deal, Iā€™ll just relay that message on to the children of America. Jason Brody, temporary Royals pitcher, wants to be an owl when he grows up because they know geography and sh*t like that.ā€

Okay, Iā€™m getting way too into this fake reporter role.

ā€œWho says this is temporary?ā€ he snaps.

ā€œYour two-way contract.ā€ Isnā€™t that how Dad explained it? He plays a few games then goes back to Triple-A, all without signing a real major league contract.

He yanks a pair of jeans from his locker and then grabs a bundled up orange T-shirt. ā€œWell, I plan on kicking some ass on Opening Day and making this a permanent gig.ā€

ā€œI think you need a reality check,ā€ I say. ā€œOne game isnā€™t going to be enough--ā€

ā€œAnnie, what the hell are you doing?ā€

I leap off the bench and turn around to face Dad and Frank standing about five feet from me. ā€œIntroducing myself to your new pitcher.ā€

ā€œBrody, what are you doing here, son?ā€ Frank asks. ā€œWeā€™re off today.ā€

ā€œJust getting in some cardio and weights.ā€ His gaze darts from me to Dad to Frank. ā€œI was just finishing up this interview for Sports Illustrated. The kidsā€™ edition.ā€

ā€œWell, we wonā€™t keep you from getting your clothes back on, then,ā€ Frank says, like heā€™s trying not to laugh. ā€œAnd just for future reference, all interviews will go through the teamā€™s publicity department so no one will be wandering in here, surprising you. Savannah will meet with you tomorrow to discuss publicity.ā€

Dad moves forward and extends a hand to Jason Brody. ā€œJim Lucas, nice to meet you, son. Iā€™ve seen your spring training videos. Youā€™ve got some real talent. Iā€™m looking forward to working with you.ā€

Brody shakes Dadā€™s hand, his eyes still on me.

ā€œAnd this is my daughter Annie,ā€ Dad adds.

Brody glares at me. ā€œLet me guessā€”you donā€™t work for Sports Illustrated?ā€    




Julie Cross lives in Central Illinois with her husband and three children. Sheā€™s a former gymnast and longtime gymnastics fan, coach, and former gymnastics program director with the YMCA. Sheā€™s a lover of books, devouring several novels a week, especially in the young adult and new adult genres. Outside of her reading and writing credentials, Julie is a committedā€”but not talentedā€”long-distance runner, creator of imaginary beach vacations, Midwest bipolar-weather survivor, and expired CPR certification card holder, as well as a ponytail and gym-shoe addict.
  




 
 

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