{Blog Tour} Spotlight + Giveaway: Freedom Road by T.M. Souders

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Today, I'm spotlighting Freedom Road with an excerpt and a giveaway for its tour! Go on and check it out!

Freedom Road
Title: Freedom Road
Author: T.M. Souders
Date of Publication: September 12, 2012

**FINALIST, USA Book Awards, Young Adult Fiction, 2012**
**FINALIST, Next Generation Indie Awards, Young Adult Fiction, 2013**
**Second Place/Quarter-Finalist in the YA category of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards**

A father’s selfish demands, broken booze bottles, and unconscious mothers are everyday fixtures in eighteen-year-old Samantha Becker’s life. Armed with her guitar and music to keep her comfort in a volatile world, Sam’s one dream to study classical guitar at Juilliard may very well be her salvation. But when her father’s careless actions lead to an “accident,” Sam’s ability to play the guitar dies along with her dreams of attending the renowned school. Losing all confidence in her future, Sam hides behind the emotional barriers that have protected her for years.

Just when Sam has given up, a budding friendship and an unexpected romance give her the hope she needs, forcing her to reevaluate all she’s ever known. With fresh conviction, Sam battles her father’s plans for her future, band mates using her for personal gain, and a permanent injury. But will it be enough? Julliard auditions are almost here. Time’s running out, and Sam must re-learn to play the guitar or give up her dreams forever.

Purchase from Amazon | B&N (On sale for $0.99 only!)

Moreover, you can get the Prelude, the prequel, for free! Just comment in this post with your email address and Tia will personally send it to you!

Excerpt

Two days. That’s the length of a hospital stay after your father lops your finger off with a kitchen knife.

I remembered the morning clearly. Maybe I always would, or maybe with time the memory would fade and be one of unimportance as everyone wanted me to believe. The scent of rain and decaying leaves wafted through the open windows. Cool air whipped inside, diminishing the stench of burning oatmeal from the kitchen. I hurried into the room, my guitar case slung over my shoulder. I glanced up at the clock and grimaced. In twenty minutes my presence was expected in Mr. Neely’s classroom for one of our practices. Time is of the essence, he told me. And how could I argue with that when the single most important day of my life approached?

“Damn it!” my father cursed. He tore the pot of burning oatmeal from the burner and threw it in the sink with a bang. Waving a towel, he attempted to hasten the foul air out the window.

I brushed past him with my head down. When I opened the refrigerator door, I grabbed the first thing I saw. A carton of strawberry yogurt would have to suffice. There was no time to be choosy. Besides, the longer I stayed in the kitchen, the more I risked a confrontation with him or my mother.

The shattering of glass cut through the silence, followed by a low guttural moan. I gritted my teeth and rounded the corner into the living room to the sight of my mother splayed on the ground, the empty bottle of some form of spirit broken at her feet. She rolled over. Pieces of glass stuck to her robe. I covered my nose, trying not to gag at the sour smell of alcohol.

My father’s clipped stride resonated over the hardwood floor as he entered the room. He knelt down beside her and began to pick up the shards of glass off the floor. Oblivious, my mother stood up, gripping the wall for support, and stumbled her way to the couch. I took this as my chance for escape and started toward the door, hoping my exit would go unnoticed.

“Samantha, I need to speak with you for a moment. In the kitchen.”

Wincing, I turned. The plastic shopping bag in my father’s hand was heavy with glass. With his gaze still on me, he nodded toward the kitchen and left the room. For a moment I debated sneaking out anyway, but I followed him, saving myself the lecture later. I walked up to the counter. The strap over my shoulder dug into my skin, a reminder of the time—and how I didn’t have any. This had better be fast.

“What?” I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced at the clock.

He tossed the bag of glass in the trash can and moved to a cutting board on the island. “I wanted to let you know that I’m signing you up for a class this summer at the American Banking Institute. It will be good for you to build up some knowledge before you start working for me.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. It was only October, yet he planned my summer. “I already told you I’m not doing it. I won’t work there, and I’m eighteen now. I can make my own decisions. You’re wasting your time.”

Taking a chopping knife out of a drawer, he sliced through the apple in front of him, halving it in one clean swoop. “This isn’t up for debate. You’ll have to get used to the idea.”

I shook my head. This argument could wait. All I wanted right now was to feel the smooth contours of my guitar in my hands, to feel the chords of the music as I played.
“Fine. Whatever.”

What happened in the seconds following this exchange blurred into a single moment. My mother crashed into the kitchen, knocking over the wine glasses nestled on the hutch. A string of obscenities followed, along with accusations that someone rearranged the furniture. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the raised knife poised above the apple. My father said I shifted my hand on the island, distracted by my mother. A totally plausible explanation—if it were true.

My eyes flew open as I stared down at the halved fruit, now drenched in my blood. Then the pain came. A sharp stabbing sensation overtook my entire hand, and my heart threatened to crash through my chest. I vaguely recalled screaming in the background. Where it came from I’m still unsure. Possibly me, or my mother. My father’s panicked voice rang in my ears as he squeezed something over the finger, causing the pain to shoot through my arm. When he shifted, revealing my hand, I don’t recall moving. I don’t remember speaking or moaning in pain. All I remembered was staring at that blood soaked cloth, thinking This is my fretting hand.

About T.M. Souders

T.M. Souders was born in Johnstown, PA and grew up in the suburbs outside of Pittsburgh. She graduated in 2004, from Youngstown State University, with a degree in Psychology and minor in Women’s Studies. She is the author of bestselling women’s fiction novel, Waiting on Hope, as well as the novelette Dashing Through The Snow, and the three-time, award-winning YA novel, Freedom Road. She is the founder of The Serious Reader, a site dedicated to connecting with readers one book at a time. She currently lives in rural Ohio with her husband and children.

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