Sunday, 29 November 2015

BOOK REVIEW: Gray by Pete Wentz

Hello. In case you don't check my Twitter, you know that I'm a huuuugggeee band junkie (as in fan, not...anything else). Anyways, I love Fall Out Boy and I also love books, so when I found out that the bassist from FOB has a book (and not a biography, no an actual fiction book) I was over the moon.
Keep reading to check out my views on Gray by Pete Wentz 

Sometimes, late at night in the hotel room, after the lights have gone out and the mistakes have already been made, when it is heavy and silent and still, I lie awake and listen to my pulse on the pillow…

Imagine you are on a tour bus, the miles whistling away beneath you as you sleep. Tomorrow you will wake up in downtown Somewhere. It doesn’t matter. All the skylines look the same. Time is only marked by events. The world is on a first-name basis with you.

But you…you barely even know yourself. There are those who give in completely to the idea of what it means to be famous. And those who can’t ever seem to leave the past behind. Life is a deep and contemplative story stuck on repeat—love, loss, self-destruction, self-discovery.

If you could go back to the way things were before you made it…would everything still be gray?

GENRE: Romance, Coming of Age, Contemporary
AUTHOR: Pete Wentz
SOURCE: Bought, hardcover
RELEASE DATE: February 19th 2013

 Wow. I am speechless and heartbroken and numb (like Novacaine ;))

Okay, so if you've heard even only just one Fall Out Boy, you know how much of an AMAZING lyricist Wentz is. And boy, oh boy did he live up to that. The metaphors in this novel were brilliantly written and I understand every moment and the reason for each metaphors' use.
The novel was written in first person, and there was some mystery and intrigue (at least by me lol) about the fact that the protagonist and his lover have zero names. He is never referred to as his name and his lover is just Her.

Right, so the novel was about this dude from Chicago whose band is about take on the world but his on/off gf is kinda bound to Chicagoland because, studies #IKnowTheFeeling (she's studying Psychology, ironically).
In case you're wondering why it's ironic, our ol' protagonist is a little....psychologically not there. 
Allow me to elaborate.

Alrighty, so being on the road and in a not-so-relationship-relatioship has taking a toll on him and he takes anxiety meds and drinks and has one-night stands- the usual rockstar lifestyle.

He's mostly in LA or around the US-basically away from The Windy City, away from Her and so he doesn't know where the relationship lies, and who he even is anymore.  Buuut he finds himself writing her emails or blurting out 'I love you' or having meaningless reunion sex with her. 
The love affair between these two characters is the main factor in this novel and it runs in circles and circles. If it was another novel, I would've got fed up that they kept going in circles but the protagonists' reasoning and thoughts were intricately explained and so I totally got him. 

One thing I didn't like, however, was that he was not close with his band. I didn't like this because I felt it was a representation of FOB; I know it's not, it's just that one member is hurting and it was only one out of four (I'm assuming- we're not directly told) who showed a slight bit of care towards him. It was weird to me that the closest person on tour whom the protagonist  went partying with was the guitar tech.

He then finds a friend in this super crazy dude named John Miller, AKA The Disaster. I enjoyed the wildness and hypie vibes from the Disaster.

Overall, it was amazing and any person with a heart and 2008 crush on Pete Wentz (hey, even now, lol no hate) would love it. The author did not cloud my opinion- this was genuinely a good novel. And I loved it and will definietly read it again. 

Okay so I was delved waaay to deep in this novel to collect quotes but I gathered a few that just stood out. Let's just say if I could include the whole book under 'My Favourite Quotes', I would.
  • “Let’s just make it through tonight, worry about the rest later.” 
  • We are two explorers in the dark. Mapless and hopeless. Alone together.” 
  • “Just a tiny red sliver remains in the battery icon. I wish humans came with the same kind of indicator . . . it
    would make things much easier. You would know how to deal with every person on the planet, and I’d always be in the red.” 
  • “We are a dying star in its last cosmic throes. We are a ship with its hull pierced, the arctic water pouring through the gash. It’s over.”
  •  '' mind works the night shift.''
  • “Our brains may lie to us, but our hearts never do.”  
Right! That's it from me. I shall see you next time!
Here are my links : (if ya interested)
I'm even giving you my email address (why not? #GoBigOrGoHome)

Byeee!! Love you lots and stay beautiful and bookish! Xoxo

Tuesday, 24 November 2015

LIFE: My Bucket List!

Hi!! Greetings from Middle Earth (reality: in my room, blasting Fall Out Boy)
Today is going to be my first ever post- wait, lemme say it as a metaphor.
Today is my first official step into another direction, in terms of the contents of this blog
Yes, you heard right; we are changing it up a bit here on Always Falling for Book Guys 
To read more, click here (it's not that long lol) 

Okey doke! Let's begin already! Here's my bucket list
*The list is ongoing, so is subject to {1D note}changes 

So I've most recently been somewhat of an explorer...from my bedroom. Because of my love of reading, and being transported to places in my head, I've opened the physicality mindset of exploring. Up until recently, I've been scared to actually get out there are travel. Hell, I still am- I haven't actually began my travels yet (hence the unchecked bucket list). Maybe I'll document my journey on this blog ;)

Travel Europe
Dance in the rain
Kiss in the rain
Go to a music festival
Camp out under the stars
See the Northern Lights || Go stargazing
Be happy
Follow a band on tour (in a non-stalkery way)
Read all the books in the world
Climb a mountain
Visit the Maldives (Sea of Stars)
Get interested in comic books
Go to Comic Con
Have a huge wardrobe, beautiful apartment, job I love and tonnes of money ;)

  And that's it! For now. Don't judge me for some of the cheesy stuff I put on there lol.

Please, please leave some of your bucket list tasks below for me to check out ;)

Right! That's it from me. I shall see you next time!
Here are my links : (if ya interested)
I'm even giving you my email address (why not? #GoBigOrGoHome)

Byeee!! Love you lots and stay beautiful and bookish! Xoxo


Please let me know if you enjoyed this, and leave some requests for other posts like this

Thursday, 12 November 2015

EXCERPT REVEAL: Outside The Lines by Lisa Desrochers + TEASER

Only one more day 'til Friday and to get you through the week, I present you with an excerpt reveal! It's for a novel called Outside The Lines
Ready, set go! 

OUTSIDE THE LINES final coverFrom the author of the USA Today bestselling A Little Too Far series, the first in an edgy new contemporary romance series that follows a family on the run... 
 As the oldest son of a Chicago crime lord, Robert Delgado always knew how dangerous life could be. With his mother dead and his father in prison, he’s taking charge of his family’s safety—putting himself and his siblings in witness protection to hide out in a backwater Florida town. Fourth grade teacher Adri Wilson is worried about the new boy in her class. Sherm is quiet and evasive, especially when he’s around his even cagier older brother. Adri can’t help her attraction to Rob, or the urge to help them both in whatever way she can. But the Delgados have enemies on two sides of the mob—their father’s former crew and the rival family he helped take down. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds them. And if Rob isn’t careful, Adri could end up in the crossfire...
  ADD TO GOODREADS AMAZON *** iBooks *** B&N   
  • Release date: January 19 2016
  • Genre: New Adult, Romance, Contemporary
Did you enjoy that teaser? Good, cause now it's excerpt time!!

Chapter 2 
“Is this straight?” Dad asks, peering in the mirror across from the front door and messing with the badge on the breast pocket of his blue shirt. There is almost no crime on our little island because Dad is legendary for taking down drug rings and poachers, but when it comes to the little things, like pinning his badge on straight, he still needs help. That’s why I’m here. When Mom died last spring, I came back from Jacksonville so I could live at home and help Dad. He and Mom were high school sweethearts and married not long after graduation. He’s always been taken care of. I don’t want him to be alone. I move to where he is and turn him, unpinning the badge and straightening it. I smooth his salt and pepper hair off his forehead and stretch up on my toes to kiss the smooth patch of cheek above the line of his beard. “I seriously doubt they’re going to send the Chief of Police home for a dress code infraction.” “We’ll see,” he chuckles, giving my blond ponytail a gentle tug. “You ready for your first day influencing the youth of Port St. Mary?” I was over the moon when I got the call three days ago that Mrs. Martin had had surgery and they needed a long-term sub for her class. Not that I’m happy they hacked out her gallbladder or anything, but her loss is my gain, so to speak. I come from a long line of educators. Mom was my first grade teacher. Both of her sisters, her father, and her grandfather taught as well. You could say it’s in my DNA. I resisted it for a while, thought I wanted to go into finance, but by my junior year at Clemson I had to finally admit to myself teaching was what I really wanted to do. I changed my major to Education and finished my credential just before Mom died. Since her death, it’s felt even more urgent to me to teach—like maybe following in her footsteps will somehow keep her spirit alive. But Port St. Mary and the surrounding communities are small, and teaching jobs are pretty scarce. I was afraid I was going to have to try elsewhere come fall. This was a prayer answered…which makes me a little afraid I might have had something to do with poor Mrs. Martin’s gallbladder flaring up. And now it’s starting to feel like one of those “be careful what you wish for” scenarios. I rub my sweaty palms down my slacks. “What happens if they hate me?” Dad wraps me in his arms and squeezes me in a bear hug, crushing the air out of my lungs. “They’re going to love you, punkin. Your mom would be so proud of you right now,” he says, a catch in his voice. “I hope you know that.” I swallow back the lump in my throat and look up at him. I can’t even remember the last time he’s brought her up out of the blue like this. “I know, Dad, but thanks for saying so.” He lets me go and I shoulder my messenger bag. “Time to face the music.” We step out the back door to where my old electric blue Chevy Lumina is parked in the driveway, next to Dad’s only slightly less conspicuous cruiser. Dad watches as I slide in and turn the key. The engine chugs but doesn’t turn over. I blow out a breath and pop the hood. By the time I grab the monkey wrench on the floor of the passenger side and get out of the car, Dad already has the hood propped up and is looking over the engine compartment. “Don’t mess with Frank, Dad.” I point my finger in a circle at the guts of my poor Frankencar. Me and my best friend Chuck rebuilt most of the insides from junkyard parts when we took auto shop our senior year in high school. “It’s a delicate balance.” He grins and steps back, his hands in the air. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I will always love Frank—he was my first—but I know I need a new car. Dad’s offered me Mom’s T-Bird, but I’m twenty-three. I’m supposed to be responsible for myself at this point. And besides, I’d rather he sold Mom’s car and put the money towards his retirement. Even though Port St. Mary is pretty sleepy most of the time, everyday he goes to work, I worry. I reach between the radiator and the engine and give the alternator a sharp rap with the wrench, then slip back into the driver’s seat. When I turn the key, Frank chugs twice, same as always, then rumbles to life. Dad ducks into the cruiser and gives me a little salute as I pull out. Port St. Mary Elementary is only about two miles from home. It takes a grand total of eight minutes to drive there. Technically, it’s a one-room schoolhouse. The tiny twelve-space parking lot butts up against an octagonal building, which, in fact, is just one big room inside. In the exact center of the building are the bathrooms and storage closets, and from there, folding accordion partitions section off each wedge of the octagon. Each wedge is a grade level, kinder through sixth, and a multipurpose room. To the right of the parking lot is a doublewide “portable” that houses the school offices and small staff room. Behind that, children are already gathering in the playground, which is really just a weed-infested lot with a slide and jungle gym that has been there since before I started kindergarten here. When I walk around the octagon to the door marked with a big yellow four and step inside, it’s like deja vu all over again. Mrs. Martin (she told me to call her Pam when we talked on the phone about the lesson plan yesterday, but I can’t bring myself to) has had the same posters on the walls since the dawn of time. The presidential chart ends with Reagan. She had already been teaching fourth grade in this same classroom for, like, twenty years when I had her. I move to her desk, to the right of the door, and set my bag on it. And that’s when I see the note from Principal Richmond. A new student. I brush my palms down my slacks again, a fresh jolt of nerves twisting my insides into knots. I was already going to be way over my head with a classroom full of nine-year-olds fresh off Christmas vacation and all sugared up on candy canes. I look over the instructions. Sherman William Davidson needs his reading comprehension assessment, writing and grammar evaluation, and his math skills worksheet completed by the end of the week. I blow a wisp of hair off my forehead and unpack my toothpaste and toothbrush, my journal, and a few of my favorite colored pens into Mrs. Martin’s desk, careful not to displace her things too much. I’m just pulling the assessments for the new kid from the file cabinet when the classroom door opens. I hear Principal Richmond’s gravel voice before I turn around. “…and his classroom is here. We just got word a few days ago that our regular fourth grade teacher is out on medical leave, but Sherman will be in good hands with Ms. Wilson. She’s a very capable substitute.” I take a deep breath as I turn and hope he’s not lying. I substituted five times during fall semester. For the most part, everything went great until I subbed for Mrs. Yetz’s eighth grade class the week before winter break. Somehow, what started out as a math lab on probability devolved into a liar’s dice tournament, complete with money changing hands. I wasn’t sure they’d call me back after that. But when I see Principal Richmond waddle his round frame through the door, I straighten the scarf I tied over my favorite teal sweater and try to look as confident in what he said as he does. “Ms. Wilson,” he says, waving me over. “This is your new student, Sherman.” Sherman is a wiry little thing with unruly brown hair and clothes that hang off him a little. He looks as if he’d vanish into himself if given the chance. “He goes by Sherm,” the man standing next to him says. I look up into some of the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. Heavy dark brows curve over irises the color of honey with burgundy flecks through them. Thick brown waves are loose around a strong face with angled cheekbones, and a square jaw covered in two-day stubble. Set in flawless olive skin are lips so firm and red they make me forget the frown that’s turning them down slightly at the corners. He’s just so…gorgeous, like something out of a magazine or a movie. And he’s tall—well over six feet of broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips under his blue button-down shirt. The tails are loose over pressed jeans that fit him just so. Everything about him is tailored and cultured and nothing like any of the year-rounders who live on this bumpkin island. But it’s not just the way he looks. A blend of confidence and something else I can’t identify but makes him feel a little intimidating wafts off him with the spicy cologne I keep catching hints of. He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met, even at Clemson. I feel my jaw dangling and snap it closed, pulling myself together long enough to extend an arm. “I’m Adri.” Principal Richmond clears his throat, and when I flick a glance his direction, I know my ogling didn’t go unnoticed. His brow is deeply furrowed and his frown curves so low it makes him look like one of those marionettes, where their chin is a whole different piece of wood than the rest of their face. My eyes bulge and I shift my outstretched hand to Sherm. “I mean, Miss Wilson. Welcome to Port St. Mary, Sherm.” The boy just looks at me with sad eyes the color of his…father’s? My gaze gravitates back to the guy towering over me. Could he be Sherm’s dad? He looks way too young to have a nine-year-old. He also looks all business. There’s nothing soft or nurturing in his cold, sharp gaze as it flicks around the classroom, silently assessing. “What’s on the other side of those partitions?” he asks Principal Richmond. “The third and fifth grade classrooms,” he answers.  The guy’s eyes continue to scan the room. “He’ll spend all day in here?” The principal nods. “Except when he’s on the playground.” “Is there security on campus?” Principal Richmond looks momentarily perplexed, rubbing his round stomach as if he’s thinking with it. “Not as such. We have yard monitors during recess and lunch, and the teachers are responsible for the children when they’re here in class.” “What about lunch?” “He can bring his own lunch, or buy a bag lunch from Nutritional Services for three dollars. Either way, if it’s nice weather, the children eat outside at the picnic tables. On rainy days, we open the partitions and they eat inside as a group.” The guy reaches into his pocket, but Principal Richmond holds up his hand to stop him when he comes out with a thick wad of cash. “We don’t allow students to carry money on campus. When we’re done here, I’ll take you to the office and have you purchase a scan card for Nutritional Services.” The guy nods, then moves to the door and jiggles the knob. “The exterior doors are left unlocked?” “During school hours, yes.” Principal Richmond answers, moving to my desk and shuffling through the papers I pulled for Sherm. The guy’s full lips narrow into a tight line and he scowls at the door. He spins and starts toward the door in the back of the room, leaving no stone unturned. I wipe my hands down my slacks again and decide just to ask. “So, you’re Sherm’s father?” His feet stall on the chipped linoleum and he seems to finally notice I exist. “Brother,” he answers, and that one word seems to carry the weight of the world with it as it falls from his mouth. His eyes make a slow sweep of my face, and as they trail down my neck, the front of my sweater, over my hips and down my legs, I’m frozen in place, paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze. Principal Richmond shoves some papers in my face, breaking the spell. “You still have fifteen minutes until the bell. Maybe you can get Sherman started on these.” “Um…” I grab the papers out of his hand as Big Brother blinks, some of the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen hiding those incredible eyes. “Yeah. We’ll do that...” Principal Richmond guides Big Brother to the door. “Let’s get out of their way and let them get started. I’m sure Sherman will have a positive experience here. Children his age tend to adjust quickly,” he’s saying as the door swings closed behind them.

lisaauthorLisa Desrochers is the USA Today bestselling author of A LITTLE TOO FAR, courtesy of HarperCollins. Look for the companions, A LITTLE TOO MUCH (11/12/13), and A LITTLE TOO HOT (1/21/14), and also her Personal Demons trilogy (Macmillan). Lisa lives in northern California with her husband, two very busy daughters, and Shini the tarantula. When she's not writing, she's reading, and she adores stories that take her to new places, and then take her by surprise. Find her online at, on Twitter at @LisaDez, and on Facebook at . 

Right! That's it from me. I shall see you next time!
Here are my links : (if ya interested)
I'm even giving you my email address (why not? #GoBigOrGoHome)

Byeee!! Love you lots and stay beautiful and bookish! Xoxo


Huuuuggggeeee thanks and cuddles to InkSlingerPR  for 
providing me with the material needed 😁

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