{"id":1718,"date":"2016-03-08T22:27:25","date_gmt":"2016-03-08T22:27:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.tamaragranthambooks.com\/?p=1718"},"modified":"2016-03-08T22:27:25","modified_gmt":"2016-03-08T22:27:25","slug":"book-release-nora-and-kettle-by-lauren-nicolle-taylor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tamaragrantham.com\/StagingSite\/book-release-nora-and-kettle-by-lauren-nicolle-taylor\/","title":{"rendered":"Book Release- Nora and Kettle by Lauren Nicolle Taylor"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Nora & Kettle <\/strong>
\nLauren Nicolle Taylor<\/strong>
\nPublished by: Clean Teen Publishing
\nPublication date: February 29th 2016
\nGenres: Historical, Young Adult<\/p>\n

What if Peter Pan was a homeless kid just trying to survive, and Wendy flew away for a really good reason?<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Seventeen-year-old Kettle has had his share of adversity. As an orphaned Japanese American struggling to make a life in the aftermath of an event in history not often referred to\u2014the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and the removal of children from orphanages for having \u201cone drop of Japanese blood in them\u201d\u2014things are finally looking up. He has his hideout in an abandoned subway tunnel, a job, and his gang of Lost Boys.<\/p>\n

Desperate to run away, the world outside her oppressive brownstone calls to na\u00efve, eighteen-year-old Nora\u2014the privileged daughter of a controlling and violent civil rights lawyer who is building a compensation case for the interned Japanese Americans. But she is trapped, enduring abuse to protect her younger sister Frankie and wishing on the stars every night for things to change.<\/p>\n

For months, they\u2019ve lived side by side, their paths crossing yet never meeting. But when Nora is nearly killed and her sister taken away, their worlds collide as Kettle, grief stricken at the loss of a friend, angrily pulls Nora from her window.<\/p>\n

In her honeyed eyes, Kettle sees sadness and suffering. In his, Nora sees the chance to take to the window and fly away.<\/p>\n

Set in 1953, NORA AND KETTLE explores the collision of two teenagers facing extraordinary hardship. Their meeting is inevitable, devastating, and ultimately healing. Their stories, a collection of events, are each on their own harmless. But together, one after the other, they change the world.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Goodreads<\/a> \/ Amazon<\/a> \/ Barnes & Noble<\/a> \/ Kobo<\/a> \/ iBooks<\/a><\/p>\n

EXCERPT:<\/strong><\/p>\n

I snort, push my sleeves up, and lean back on my forearms. She watches me, her eyes on my bare skin, and I wonder what she\u2019s thinking. \u201cDances. Really? What\u2019s to miss?\u201d My experience with dances was one forced event in the camps where we watched the grownups awkwardly shift in lines to scratchy music. It didn\u2019t look very enjoyable.<\/p>\n

She releases the button she\u2019s been playing with and smirks. \u201cSays someone who\u2019s clearly never been to one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d I say, raising an eyebrow and touching my chest, mock offended.<\/p>\n

She laughs. It\u2019s starlight in a jar. I blink slowly. \u201cOh, I can tell just by looking at you, the way you move. You,\u201d she says, pointing at me accusingly. \u201cCan\u2019t dance.\u201d<\/p>\n

The candlelight twinkles like it\u2019s chuckling at me. \u201cI can dance,\u201d I say, not sure why I\u2019m lying to defend myself. I\u2019ve never danced in my life.
\nShe stands up and beckons me with her finger, and I think there\u2019s something wrong with my heart. It\u2019s hurting\u2026 but the pain feels good.
\nShe looks like a pirate\u2019s cabin boy, shirt billowing around her small waist, ill-fitting pants rolled over at her hips to stop them from falling down. She points her bare foot at me. \u201cProve it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Shit!<\/em><\/p>\n

I cough and stand nervously. I don\u2019t know what to do with my hands, so I put them behind my back. She giggles. Touches me. Runs her fingers lightly down my arms until she finds my hands. She grasps my wrists and I gulp as she places one on the small dip between her hips and her ribs, extending the other out like the bow of a boat. Her hand in mine.<\/p>\n

I follow her small steps and we wind in circles, avoiding the clumps of debris, painting patterns in the dust.<\/p>\n

I stare at my socks and her narrow bare feet, listening to the swish of them across the dirt. \u201cYou know, this is pretty weird without music,\u201d I mutter, looking up for a moment and suddenly losing my balance.<\/p>\n

She exhales and brings us back to equilibrium. She starts humming softly. It\u2019s a song I\u2019ve heard before, but I pretend it\u2019s the first time. Her voice is sweet, cracked and croaky, but in tune as she gazes at the ground and leads us up and down the back of the tunnel.<\/p>\n

This moment is killing me. I don\u2019t want it, but I do. Because I know it won\u2019t be enough and it\u2019s all I\u2019ll get.<\/p>\n

The end of the song is coming. It rises and rises and then softly peters out. We look at each other, understanding that something is changing between us, and we have to decide whether to let it. Please, let it.<\/em><\/p>\n

She sings the last few bars. \u201cAnd if you sing this melody, you\u2019ll be pretending just like me. The world is mine. It can be yours, my friend. So why don\u2019t you pretend?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice is like the dust of a comet\u2019s tail. Full of a thousand things I don\u2019t understand but want to.<\/p>\n

She stops and starts to step away. She\u2019s so fragile. Not on the outside. On the outside, her body is strong, tougher than it should have to be. It\u2019s inside that\u2019s very breakable. I\u2019m scared to touch her, but I don\u2019t want to avoid touching her because of what she\u2019s been through. That seems worse.<\/p>\n

So I do it, because I want to and I don\u2019t think she doesn\u2019t want me to. Her breath catches as I pull her closer. I just want to press my cheek to hers, feel her skin against mine. There is no music, just the rhythm of two barely functioning hearts trying to reach each other through miles of scar tissue.<\/p>\n

She presses her ear to my chest and listens, then she pulls back to meet my eyes, her expression a mixture of confusion and comfort. She breathes out, her lips not wanting to close but not wanting to speak. She settles on a nervous smile and puts her arms around my neck. I inhale and look up at the ceiling, counting the stars I know are up there somewhere, and then rest my cheek in her hair.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how she is here. I don\u2019t know when she\u2019ll disappear.<\/p>\n

We sway back and forth, and it feels like we might break. That we will<\/em> break if we step apart from each other.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t let her go.<\/p>\n

I think I love dancing.<\/p>\n

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Author Bio:<\/p>\n

Lauren Nicolle Taylor lives in the lush Adelaide Hills. The daughter of a Malaysian nuclear physicist and an Australian scientist, she was expected to follow a science career path, attending Adelaide University and completing a Health Science degree with Honours in obstetrics and gynaecology.
\nShe then worked in health research for a short time before having her first child. Due to their extensive health issues, Lauren spent her twenties as a full-time mother\/carer to her three children. When her family life settled down, she turned to writing.<\/p>\n

She is a 2014 Kindle Book Awards Semi-finalist and a USA Best Book Awards Finalist.<\/p>\n

Website<\/a> \/ Goodreads<\/a> \/ Facebook<\/a> \/ Twitter<\/a><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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GIVEAWAY!<\/strong>
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