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Today, I am so so SO excited to share the cover RE-reveal for Lessons in Falling by Diana Gallagher! Take a look at the fabulous cover below & be sure to enter the giveaway, as well! As always, let us know what you think of the cover in the comments section below!
Author: Diana Gallagher
Release Date: February 7, 2017
Publisher: Spencer Hill Press
Synopsis: When Savannah Gregory blows out her knee – and her shot at a gymnastics scholarship – she decides she’s done with the sport forever. Without gymnastics, she has more time for her best friend, Cassie. She’s content to let her fun, impulsive best friend plan a memorable senior year.
That is, until Cassie tries to kill herself.
Savannah wants to understand what happened, but Cassie refuses to talk about it and for the first time, Savannah has to find her own way. The only person she can turn to is Marcos, the boy who saved Cassie’s life. Being with him makes her see who she could be and what she really wants: gymnastics.
But Cassie doesn’t approve of Marcos or of Savannah going back to gymnastics, and the tighter she tries to hold on to Savannah, the farther it pulls them apart. Without Cassie to call the shots, Savannah discovers how capable she is on her own – and that maybe her best friend’s been holding her back all along.
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19545342-lessons-in-falling
About the Author:
Though Diana Gallagher be but little, she is fierce. She’s also a gymnastics coach and judge, former collegiate gymnast, and writing professor. She holds an MFA from Stony Brook University and her work has appeared in The Southampton Review, International Gymnast, and on a candy cigarette box for SmokeLong Quarterly. To learn more, visit her website at dianagallagher.blogspot.com.
Author Social Media Links:
Read below for an excerpt from Lessons in Falling!
As I glide down the road at approximately ten miles per hour below the speed limit, Cass says, “Ready for this gem?” She holds her phone in front of my face. “Who needs a dorm room when you can live like this?”
I dare to let my eyes dart away from the road. “What’s that weird crop circle on the floor?”
“That,” she says, “is two thousand dollars a month.” She scrolls to the next ad. “‘Awesome bedroom in sweet building with roof deck.’ We might be able to afford this one if we share a bed.”
“I am not sharing a bed with you,” I say. “You steal the blankets.”
“That was once!” The screen’s glow illuminates her grin. “This one is ‘the coolest brownstone.’ Wow, twenty-three hundred—what a steal.”
“We could commute,” I offer. We can sit side by side on the train next fall, watching the scrubby pines of Long Island’s East End whisk away into growing buildings.
“We are not commuting.” Her smile vanishes. “The point is getting out of here.”
“How are we going to pay for uncool brownstones in gross buildings with no roof decks, let alone those?” See also: tuition, books, miscellaneous fees, Ramen noodles…
A text message arrives and she types back furiously. “We’ll work at the beach again next summer.”
“Are they raising minimum wage by twenty dollars an hour?”
She drops the phone into her lap. “This was your idea. I thought you were committed.”
Moving somewhere I wouldn’t need to drive had been a joke. While the idea’s appealing,
I’ve already had one future plan, getting a gymnastics scholarship to Rhode Island, blow up in my face.
“It’d suck if we moved to different places next year,” Cass continues. “We’d never see each other.”
I swallow. It was the one consideration that gave me pause in my recruiting journey. If I went to Rhode Island, we would still text and call, send each other silly photos and songs, but it wouldn’t be the same. We wouldn’t be able to walk the two streets to each other’s houses, go on late-night 7-Eleven runs, drive around in circles in the South Cross parking lot until we’re dizzy and laughing.
She picks up her phone when a new text message arrives. Jules. Again. I wonder if she’s telling Juliana, Savannah’s bailing on moving to the city with me, and if Juliana is writing back in kind, Savannah is the lamest.
As I ease across the intersection, the opening chords of a guitar begin playing over the radio.
“Holy shit, is this what I think it is?” Cassie straightens up.
“Seventh grade summer anthem? Hell, yes.”
Next thing I know, we’re belting out the lyrics with the windows rolled down, screaming over the frigid air. The infectious beat on the highest volume obliterates any remaining tension. Cassie reaches out her hand and lets the wind bat it back, her curls tangling in her face, too busy singing to push them away.
“Drum solo!” I yell, forgetting my vehicular fear for a moment to bang my hands against the steering wheel.
“Someone get this girl a record deal!” she yells back.
I thrash my hair, completely destroying all of my earlier efforts to straighten it, and she laughs. “Dammit, Savannah,” she says as the reverberation begins to fade. “What would I do without you?”
I wish that we could keep driving. Pass the bridge to South Cross and see where we end
up. Montauk for the sunrise. New York City, the opposite direction, for the lights. The two of us, the way it’s always been.
Ah, but not tonight.
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