Showing posts with label Cori McCarthy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cori McCarthy. Show all posts

April 4, 2018

Now a Major Motion Picture Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

Now a Major Motion Picture
Author: Cori McCarthy

Release Date: April 3, 2018
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Description:

Their fantasy is her reality in this bright and uplifting contemporary coming-of-age novel by the acclaimed author of Breaking Sky and You Were Here.

Iris Thorne wants to blaze her own path. That’s easier said than done when you’re the granddaughter of M. E. Thorne, famous author of the Elementia series, hailed as the feminist response to J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. And with a major motion picture adaptation of her grandmother’s books in the works, Iris can say goodbye to her dream of making her own way in the music industry.

So when Iris and her brother get invited to the film set in Ireland, she’s pretty sure the trip will be a nightmare. Except Iris can’t deny the rugged beauty of the Irish countryside. And brushing shoulders with the hot, young cast isn’t awful, especially the infuriatingly charming lead, Eamon O’Brien. Iris even finds the impassioned female director inspiring. But when the filming falls into jeopardy, everything Iris thought she knew about Elementia—and herself—is in question. Will making a film for the big screen help Iris to see the big picture?

Praise for Now a Major Motion Picture:

“A war cry and a love letter all at once.”–Kirkus

“This is simultaneously a whimsical teen romance and an emotionally compelling story about family, creativity, and courage.”— School Library Journal

“Joyful and authentic. With a vivid cast of unique characters, the story is engrossing, right down to the sometimes wryly self-referential, on-point chapter titles.” –Booklist

Book Links:
Amazon





Other Works by Cori McCarthy:


Breaking Sky
Author: Cori McCarthy

Release Date: March, 2015
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
  
Summary:

To save her country, Chase must put everything on the line. Including her pride. And her heart.

Chase Harcourt, call sign "Nyx", isn't one to play it safe. In 2048, America is locked in the second cold war—and the country's best hope is the elite teen fighter pilots of the United Star Academy. Chase is one of only two daredevil pilots chose to fly an experimental "Streaker" jet. All anyone cares about is that Chase aces the upcoming Streaker trails, proving the prototype jet can knock the enemy out of the sky. Only few know the pain and loneliness of her past.

As the world tilts toward war, Chase discovers a military secret. There's a third Streaker, and it's young pilot, Tristan, can match her on the ground and in the clouds. Chase doesn't play well with others, but to save her country, she'll have to put her life in the hands of the competition.

Breaking Sky is a gritty coming of age tale with tons of action, a fascinating dystopian society, humor, friendship, romance and heart-stopping, high-stakes flying that will leave you on the edge of your seat.

Buy Links for Breaking Sky:





  
You Were Here
Author: Cori McCarthy

Release Date: March, 2016
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
  
Summary:

Cori McCarthy delivers an emotionally taut page-turner perfect for fans of E. Lockhart, Jennifer Niven, and Jandy Nelson.

Jaycee is about to accomplish what her older brother Jake couldn't: live past graduation.

Jaycee is dealing with her brother's death the only way she can – by re-creating Jake's daredevil stunts. The ones that got him killed. She's not crazy, okay? She just doesn't have a whole lot of respect for staying alive.

Jaycee doesn't expect to have help on her insane quest to remember Jake. But she's joined by a group of unlikely friends – all with their own reasons for completing the dares and their own brand of dysfunction: the uptight, ex-best friend, the heartbroken poet, the slacker with Peter Pan syndrome, and... Mik. He doesn't talk, but somehow still challenges Jayce to do the unthinkable-reveal the parts of herself that she buried with her brother.

Cori McCarthy's gripping narrative defies expectation, moving seamlessly from prose to graphic novel panels and word art poetry. From the petrifying ruins of an insane asylum to the skeletal remains of the world's largest amusement park, You Were Here takes you on an unforgettable journey of friendship, heartbreak, and inevitable change.


Buy Links for You Were Here:




I Don’t Want to Alarm Anyone, but There’s an Elf at Baggage Claim
  

The guy was probably a painter. Possibly a drummer.

College age and wearing all black, he’d been the unique focus of my thousand-hour red-eye. My inflight boyfriend. It was a torrid, imaginary romance. We’d gone on at least a dozen dates and told adorable anecdotes to our future children about how their parents met a few miles in the air.

Now we were no longer separated by two Aer Lingus seats. We were shoulder to shoulder, dazedly watching the baggage belt spin. Just say hi. Ask him something.

I hugged the neck of my guitar case. “Do you know the time?”

He checked a large, silver watch. “Half twelve.”

“What?” I blurted. The bags began to emerge, and I was suddenly under new pressure to break the ice before we parted ways. After all, an entire transatlantic daydream depended on it. “Is that six? Eleven thirty? I’m so jet-lagged it could be either.”

“Twelve thirty.” His Irish accent made his words feel like lyrics to a decent song.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. Half of twelve is six.” I smiled.

“Americans,” he muttered with a snicker.

And he continued snickering as he reached for a suitcase, leaving me with the unparalleled awkwardness of being embarrassed by and disappointed in a complete stranger. I’d mentally dumped him four exotic ways—my favorite involving a baseball stadium video screen—by the time my little brother came running back from the bathroom.

“Iris!” Ryder yelled. “I peed for like two whole minutes. I should’ve timed it!”

The baggage claim crowd parted for him—people tend to do that when someone’s yelling about their urine. Now I really felt like a gross American. Thanks, Ireland. We’re off to a great start.

“Eleven days,” I murmured. “Only eleven days.”

Ryder showed no sign of jet lag. He wrestled a foam fantasy axe out of his backpack, spilling weapons everywhere. He then engaged imaginary opponents in fierce battle while the people from our flight continued to back away. My ex-in-flight boyfriend even gave him a dirty look—before giving me a dirtier look.

“I’m not his mom, you know,” I said as I collected Ryder’s weapons off the floor.

A well-meaning Irish granny stepped up. “Is this your first time in Ireland?” she asked Ryder, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. My brother nodded and squirmed. I checked my desire to tell her that, in America, we don’t touch kids we don’t know, but I didn’t want to call more attention to our swiftly amassing cultural differences. “Are you going to see the Giant’s Causeway? Or the Cliffs of Moher?”

“No,” Ryder said, breaking free from her hold. “We get to meet famous people and help out on set and probably even get bit roles.”

“No bit roles, Ry. You know that,” I said.

McGranny looked to me for an explanation. I zipped up Ryder’s backpack and said it fast. “He means the adaptation for Elementia. They’re filming here for the next two weeks. We’ve been invited to…” What were we supposed to do? “Watch, I guess.”

“Our grandma wrote that book!” Ryder said so loud we now had an even larger audience. Everyone who’d been groggily waiting to claim their luggage had tuned in.

“Excuse me?” My ex-love was back in the picture, not snickering this time. “Did you say your grandmother was the author M. E. Thorne?” The spark in his eyes seemed desperate to rekindle our imaginary flame.

Get out of your own head, Iris.

“Yeah,” I managed.

“Have I got something to show you.” He started to take off his shirt.

“Oh, for the love of…” I whispered, staring down at my red Chucks.

“Look!” Ryder proclaimed. “Iris, look! He’s got the map of Elementia on his ribs!”

I had to peek. It was an awfully big map. Alas, my curiosity was rewarded by a rich paleness smattered in black chest hair.

He put his shirt back down and smiled, but I kept hearing the way he’d grumbled Americans. “So are you excited about the film adaptation?” he asked. “Are you having a hand in its development? How do you feel about them changing the ages of the characters?”

I braided my hair back and said nothing, reminded once again of my life’s golden rule. People usually treated me one of two ways. One: like I was M. E. Thorne’s granddaughter, gifted with an otherworldly glow. Two: no one. I’d give anything for a third option.

“This is all you talk about, isn’t it?” he continued. “You’ve probably been reading your grandma’s books since you were a kid. I discovered them a few years back. Then again, I bet you can’t say anything because of the movies. Top-secret insider information, right?”

I chewed on my response. The gristle of this fantasy talk would not go down. Everyone assumed I’d be over the moon about the adaptation, but it meant the story’s fandom would triple. Quadruple. Soon everyone would revise their interest in me, just like this guy.

“Ryder, see if that’s our bag,” I said, moving us to the other side of the carousel. When I had my back to everyone from our flight, I squeezed my eyes, a little scream coming up from deep inside.

“You okay, Iris?” Ryder put a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes. Not his hand—it was his foam dwarf axe. At least his little-kid expression was earnest.

“I’m fine.” I rested my forehead on the top of my guitar case. I knew better than to check out when I was on Ryder duty, but I couldn’t help it. One moment later, my brother was lunging for his luggage, and the next, he was on the carousel, disappearing through the plastic hanging strips and into the bowels of Shannon Airport. “Hey!” I yelled. “Ryder!” Fear slapped me awake, and I almost crawled through the plastic strips after him. “Hey!”

“Need some help, then?”

I turned toward a new Irish voice and almost fell over. “Oh no.”

The boy had elf ears. Honest to God, pointy and flexed into his hairline elf ears.

“Oh no?” he returned, his eyebrows sky-high.

“What’re you… What are you?”

“I’m an elf,” he said as casually as if he were telling me he was an art major. “I’m here to give you a lift.” He held up a printed sign that read Thorne.

“Put that down. These people are already too curious.” I grabbed the paper and balled it. “And if you’re here to help, solve that equation.” I pointed to the baggage exit. “One brother went in. No brothers are coming back out. He’s probably on the runway by now.”

“Ye of little faith,” Elf Ears said, crossing his arms. “He’ll pop back through in a moment.” He leaned over conspiratorially. “It’s a circle, you know.”

I couldn’t believe that a stranger with artificial ears was “ye of little faith”-ing me. “What if security catches him? In the United States, the TSA confiscates firstborns for this kind of thing.”

On cue, Ryder came back through the plastic strips, sitting on my duffel and wearing my sunglasses he’d pillaged from the outer pocket. He knew he was in trouble, and yet he grinned. Then he saw the guy beside me, and his mouth dropped open. Ryder jumped down and ran over, leaving me to fetch both of our bags from the carousel.

By the time I’d returned, Ryder’s face was a full moon of excitement. “Iris. This is Nolan. Nolan.”

Nolan held out his hand as though we hadn’t previously met, i.e., argued. “It’s Eamon. Eamon O’Brien.”

I dropped Ryder’s bag to shake Eamon’s hand. “What a name. Did you spring from the roots of Ireland itself?”

I had to hand it to him—he didn’t flinch.

“And you’re Iris Thorne. Nothing to slag there, right?”

Ryder pulled on my shirt, revealing way too much of my bra, while hissing, “It’s Nolan.”

I grabbed his hand and yanked up my neckline. “Stop it or I’ll snap your dwarf axe over my knee.” I plucked my sunglasses off Ryder’s face and put them on in time to catch quite possibly the dirtiest look an elf has ever given a human. “Oh, come on. I don’t really break his toys. And how come there are three of us, but I’m carrying all the bags?”

“It’s not a toy,” Ryder snipped. “It’s a costume replica.”

Eamon continued to glare, proving his eyes weren’t blue but a crystal color that felt digitally enhanced. No wonder he’d been cast as the famous elf in Grandma Mae’s books. Nolan—Eamon—whatever his name was threw the strap of my huge duffel over his shoulder and tried to take my guitar.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ryder said for me. “She’s married to that thing.”

“Is that legal in America these days? Do you share health care?”

I stuck out my tongue, and Eamon grinned wildly, which encouraged me to put my tongue away and wonder how he’d reduced me to Ryder’s maturity level in a matter of minutes.

We passed under the green banner of Nothing to Declare, and I tried some light conversation. “So, if you’re one of the actors, why are you doing airport pickups?”

“I volunteered. I’m a huge fan.”

Good Lord.

“Hey, I read about you,” Ryder said. “This is your very first movie!”

I couldn’t help myself. “Then how’d you get the role?”

“That’s a fine story. I love Elementia. It’s in my blood. I first read it with my mam when I was, oh, about this high.” He held his hand to Ryder’s head, making my brother beam. “When they announced the movie and open casting, Mam and I decided to dream big. We made an audition video in a wooded bit on Saint Stephen’s Green.”

“Elijah Wood did that to become Frodo,” Ryder said.

“Right, right.” He knocked Ryder’s shoulder, best friends already. “I thought, if it worked for Elijah, why can’t it work with me?”

“Because Elijah Wood had an established film career before he did that,” I muttered.

“What was that?” Eamon asked.

“Nothing.” I knew where this story was going. Without a doubt, it would conclude with “then I met the grandchildren of M. E. Thorne and it was the most magical thing to ever happen to me.”

Eamon continued. “Lo and behold, I’m cast as Nolan. And today I’m getting fit for my ears when Cate Collins, wonder director, needs someone to pick up M. E. Thorne’s grandchildren. I volunteered, quick as light.” Eamon shifted the bag on his shoulder and glanced at me. “This is when I meet a tiny, axe-wielding hero and his mountain troll of a guardian.”

My guitar case slipped out of my hand, banging hollowly on the ground. “What the…”

Ryder’s smile was wider than both of the hands he used to cover it.

“Pardon that.” Eamon winked at me—the sassiest thing I’d ever seen a guy manage. “I’m prone to descriptive exaggeration, me springing outta the roots of Ireland and all.”

I blushed, an odd mixture of offended and ashamed.

“Iris Thorne!” an unfamiliar voice yelled from behind.

I turned, my pulse turning into a drum. Just like there were two ways people treated me, there were two kinds of Elementia fans: the ones who loved the trilogy—and the ones who’d reconstructed their lives for it. The latter group called themselves Thornians. They wrote letters to my family. They knew my birthday.

And one of them tried to abduct Ryder when he was six.

I was sort of relieved to see it was my ex-in-flight boyfriend, the newly redubbed Mr. Nerdy Torso Tattoo, jogging over. “How do you know my name?” I asked, my voice breaking a little as I put out an arm to keep him from getting too close to Ryder.

“Your brother was yelling it. I didn’t even know M. E. Thorne had young grandkids.”

I relaxed slightly. “I’m not that young.”

“I’m crossing my fingers you’re eighteen.” The guy leaned close with flirtatious wickedness, reminding me of what had drawn my attention to him during the flight. Lanky gorgeousness. The glasses. Blue eyes. Dark, tight swirls of hair. He rested a long-fingered hand on the top of my guitar case. Definitely musician’s fingers. Also, it was suddenly quite obvious that I’d been wrong; he was well beyond college age.

Earth to Iris. Walk away, Iris.

“I’m…seventeen.” I stepped back, oddly relieved to bump into Eamon. “Have to go.”

The guy pulled out his wallet and handed me a business card. “Shoot me a message around your birthday. I’ll take you out, and we can talk about the movie, or the books, if you prefer.”

Neither, thank you. “I live in LA.”

“I’ll make the trip.” He smiled at the person he thought was me. He walked away. And I hated M. E. Thorne more than usual, which, to be honest, was already a lot.

We walked toward the parking lot, and I kept my head down.

“You work fast, Lady Iris,” Eamon said, low enough that Ryder couldn’t hear.

“No way,” I muttered back. “That guy has the hots for my dead grandma.” He glanced at me, concerned. “I’m fine,” I added, hoping I looked annoyed—bold and unflappable—but from the way his expression fell, I think maybe my sad was showing.
CORI MCCARTHY studied poetry and screenwriting before falling in love with writing for teens at Vermont College of Fine Arts. From a military family, Cori was born on Guam and lived a little bit of everywhere before she landed in Michigan. Learn more about her books at CoriMcCarthy.com.
  
Social Media Links: 
Twitter: @CoriMcCarthy
Instagram: @cori_mccarthy
(2) Copies of Now a Major Motion Picture
Runs April 3rd – 30th (US & Canada only)






 

March 1, 2016

You Were Here Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for YOU WERE HERE! I have a great excerpt from the book to share with you today - and don't forget to enter the giveaway!


You Were Here
Author: Cori McCarthy
Genre: YA Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 1, 2016
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire

Description:

Jaycee is about to accomplish what her older brother Jake couldn’t: live past graduation.

Jaycee is dealing with her brother’s death the only way she can – by re-creating Jake’s daredevil stunts. The ones that got him killed. She’s not crazy, okay? She just doesn’t have a whole lot of respect for staying alive.

Jaycee doesn’t expect to have help on her insane quest to remember Jake. But she’s joined by a group of unlikely friends – all with their own reasons for completing the dares and their own brand of dysfunction: the uptight, ex-best friend, the heartbroken poet, the slacker with Peter Pan syndrome, and… Mik. He doesn’t talk, but somehow still challenges Jayce to do the unthinkable—reveal the parts of herself that she buried with her brother.

Cori McCarthy’s gripping narrative defies expectation, moving seamlessly from prose to graphic novel panels and word art poetry, perfect for fans of E. Lockhart, Jennier Niven, and Jandy Nelson.  From the petrifying ruins of an insane asylum to the skeletal remains of the world’s largest amusement park, You Were Here takes you on an unforgettable journey of friendship, heartbreak and inevitable change.

Praise for You Were Here:

“A beautiful coming-of-age story, this book will leave readers thinking about it long after they close it.” –VOYA Magazine, a VOYA Perfect Ten

“A skillful blend of storytelling, emotion, and adrenaline-fueled daring” –Publishers Weekly

“The mix of forms as well as the insights each character gleans through their urban explorations render this book both readable and teachable on multiple levels.” –Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books, STARRED Review

“Readers who appreciate stories of searching for personal truths will be happy to join this meaningful quest for identity and independence.” –Booklist

“You Were Here  is wrenchingly beautiful in its honest and achingly accurate portrayal of grief and how it breaks us--and the way unconditional friendship puts us back together.” -Jo Knowles, award-winning author of See You At Harry’s and Read Between the Lines

“Through razor-sharp wit, no-holds-barred momentum, and heart-wrenching twists, Cori McCarthy dares you to climb through the broken, abandoned wreckage of the past, stand on the edge of the world, and face something even scarier: the truth.” -K.A. Barson, author of 45 Pounds (More or Less and Charlotte Cuts it Out

"The urban explorers of You Were Here dive deep into the forgotten man-made spaces all around them--and their own feelings of loss, love, and fear. McCarthy deftly intertwines the characters' stories, filling them with authentic pain and heartache as well as soaring moments of grace and humor. I dare you to read it!" --Maggie Lehrman, author of The Cost of All Things

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25679559-you-were-here?ac=1&from_search=1&from_nav=true


I crossed the room and sat in front of the stain. Bishop was staring down at it like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“That’s a person,” he said. “A real person. At least it was a person.”

“Bishop, this is Margaret Schilling. Margaret, this is… What’s your real name?”

“Eric,” he said.

“Margaret, this is Eric Bishop and Zach Ferris and—”

“Don’t tell it my name!” Natalie said.

I eyed Natalie. “Margaret will be less cool if you don’t introduce yourself. Remember, years ago, her spirit followed that freshman home. Made the girl write devil runes all over the walls in her own blood and then kill herself. Or so she said in her suicide letter.”

Everyone was staring at me now. “Sit.”

They did.

“Hello, Margaret,” I said sincerely. A stain in the shape of a small woman lay before me. Her story flooded my thoughts, and I let it spill out. “In 1978, a patient named Margaret Schilling was playing hide-and-seek from the nurses. She hid too far away, in the closed down ward formerly used for infectious patients, and they forgot to go find her. A month later, a maintenance worker discovered her body, her clothes folded neatly beside her.”

“Bodies put out some serious chemicals when they decompose. Look at how she burned herself into the concrete.” Bishop’s eyes were wide. “This is real. Not a ghost story or a television show. A real life that left an imprint on its way out of the world. Amazing.”

“So she died from the cold or dehydration?” Natalie seemed genuinely saddened. “That’s awful. She was probably terrified up here.”

“Wait, so this ward was used for infectious patients?” Zach asked.

“Germs don’t stay alive that long. You’re fine,” Natalie said.

I winced at the word. When Natalie used it, it did not hint at optimism.

Natalie inched toward me. “What do you see when you look at her, Jaycee?”

I glanced at each of them. Bishop’s dark-brown eyes reflected the moonlight, and Natalie’s face seemed tanner and slightly more Asian in the dark. Zach was playing with his boy band bangs, unable to look at Margaret.

“What do I see?” I asked, turning back to the halo effect created by Margaret’s splayed hair. “It was a game. She died because she was playing a game.”

“Just like Jake,” Natalie said.

“Right,” I quipped, trying to mask not only my annoyance at Natalie’s psychoanalyst tone but also a flare of grief. My chest grew tight. Why wouldn’t it go away? Why did all this still buckle me to the ground? Tears burned my eyes, and I took my hair out of my ponytail. This never happened when I came here with Mik. Mik didn’t talk or prod. Mik let me be while we walked around Jake’s old haunt, wondering if he was actually haunting it.

“My dad said that OU will raze the TB ward.” Bishop pointed out the window toward the building on the very top of the hill, by far the spookiest and most unkempt in the Ridges compound. “It’s the only fully abandoned building.”

“Raze?” I asked, suddenly angry. “When?”

“End of the summer, I think. My dad said it was going to cost a ton but that leaving the old building there while it was falling in is just asking for lawsuits.”

“Jake loved the TB ward,” I said. “They haven’t stripped it down like this building.”

“TB?” Zach asked.

“Tuberculosis,” Natalie said.

Bishop squinted at his friend. “TB has been one of the leading terminal diseases in society since the dawn of civilization, Zach.”

“But it doesn’t exist anymore,” Zach said. “Like leprosy.”

“It totally exists,” Natalie said. “And so does leprosy. Where do you learn these things?”

“TB is still the leading cause of death for all people with HIV,” Bishop said. “But don’t worry, Zach. You won’t get it.”

I was surprised to find Zach looking at me. “What kind of things are in there?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never been, but I know it’s more dangerous. All the windows and doors are boarded up to keep drunk undergrads out.”

“So there’s no way in?” Bishop asked.

I shook my head. “Didn’t say that. Every building in the Ridges compound is connected by basement tunnels. If we get into the basement, we can get into any building.”

We all shuffled to our feet and stood around the last portrait of Margaret Schilling.

“I’m in,” Bishop said, and I nodded. Bishop was cool; we’d been partners for two semesters straight in woodshop. He said odd, grandiose things sometimes, but I liked him for it. Plus there was a pretty good chance that Mik would show himself with only Bishop around.

“I’ll take you two to the exit,” I told Natalie and Zach.

“Well, hey,” Zach said. “What if I want to come?”

Natalie looked at him, stunned. “You want to go? What about Kolenski’s three kegs?”

“Kolenski gets kegs every couple of weeks.” Zach shoved his hands in his pockets. He had sobered up since they’d entered the Ridges, and now he just looked worn down. Even his hair had flattened. I’d written him off years ago, but the way he’d helped me find Jake’s footprint and waylaid Natalie…maybe he wasn’t such a garden-variety “dude.”

“Who else can say that they did this the night after graduation?” he added with a shrug.

“So Natalie’s the loose end?” I said. “Big surprise.”

“Wait a second. It was my idea to follow you in the first place. And I…I want to see it.”

“Really?” Zach asked her. “Even if it’s dangerous?”

“I’m going to minor in history. It’ll be like walking around inside of history.”

I knew Natalie well enough to know that she was deluding herself, but when I opened my mouth to point it out, I saw something instead. Bishop did too.

“Apple.” He pointed to the ground. “Guys. There’s an apple.”

A shiny, green Granny Smith apple sat in the doorway. I picked it up.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Zach asked, fear trilling his voice. “Is someone else here? That wasn’t there a few minutes ago, right? Right?”

They all looked up and down the hall. Nothing.

“Maybe Jake’s ghost put it there. Or Margaret’s,” I said. A thump of what could only be described as happiness resounded through my chest. It was foreign and weird, and yet welcome.

“You’re smiling,” Natalie said. “Why are you smiling? You never smile.”

I rubbed the apple on my shirt and took a huge crunching bite. Natalie looked like she was going to pass out. I winked. “This way to the basement.”
Cori McCarthy studied poetry and screenwriting before falling in love with writing for teens at Vermont College of Fine Arts. From a military family, Cori was born on Guam and lived a little bit of everywhere before she landed in Michigan. Learn more about her books at CoriMcCarthy.com 

Social Networking Links:
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Buy Links:
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Giveaway: (2) Finished copies of You Were Here - Open to US/CAN only! Ends 3/31.