Uncharted(66)
Their names: Violet and Beck.
The movie: Uncharted.
Sound familiar?
Nearly a year after publishing THE GIRL DUET, I sat down and gave Violet & Beck their own story. It was supposed to be a creative exercise between manuscripts. Instead, it turned into a full novel that touched my heart in so many ways, that made me grow my craft, that challenged me to try something radically different from my previous work.
I truly had the most magical time writing this story. I love it. Every sentence. Every character. Every scene.
I hope you love it too!
I’m so blessed to be able to write for a living, and when I get the chance to do something crazy — like write a book based on the fictional movie within one of my other books — I’m reminded just how cool my job is.
Thank you for coming along for the ride with me, these past few years. I can’t wait to see what else lies ahead!
Much love to my family and friends for all their help throughout the writing process, whether it’s assisting me with edits or easing me out of deadline-mode with an extra large margarita.
Thanks a million to my reader group THE JOHNSON JUNKIES for always brightening my day, to the book bloggers who tirelessly spread the word about my novels, and to my fellow authors who offer amazing support and guidance whenever I find myself lost.
Lastly… thank you.
Whether or not we’ve ever met in person, whether this is your first #JJbook or your tenth… THANK YOU. Your support means the world to me. xx
You’ll find an excerpt from THE GIRL DUET at the back of this ebook!
Also by Julie Johnson
STANDALONE NOVELS:
LIKE GRAVITY
SAY THE WORD
ERASING FAITH
THE BOSTON LOVE STORIES:
NOT YOU IT’S ME
CROSS THE LINE
ONE GOOD REASON
TAKE YOUR TIME
THE GIRL DUET:
THE MONDAY GIRL
THE SOMEDAY GIRL
About the Author
JULIE JOHNSON is a twenty-something Boston native suffering from an extreme case of Peter Pan Syndrome. When she's not writing, Julie can most often be found adding stamps to her passport, drinking too much coffee, striving to conquer her Netflix queue, and Instagramming pictures of her dog. (Follow her: @author_julie)
She published her debut novel LIKE GRAVITY in August 2013, just before her senior year of college, and she's never looked back. Since, she has published five more novels, including the bestselling BOSTON LOVE STORY series. Her books have appeared on Kindle and iTunes Bestseller lists around the world, as well as in AdWeek, Publishers Weekly, and USA Today.
You can find Julie on Facebook or contact her on her website www.juliejohnsonbooks.com. Sometimes, when she can figure out how Twitter works, she tweets from @AuthorJulie. For major book news and updates, subscribe to Julie's newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bnWtHH
Connect with Julie:
www.juliejohnsonbooks.com
[email protected]
Next up…
Want to read the story that started it all? The inspiration behind Violet & Beck’s story in UNCHARTED?
Pick up THE GIRL DUET today!
Both parts now available.
Continue reading for an excerpt from THE MONDAY GIRL, Book #1 in the duet.
THE MONDAY GIRL
Chapter One
“I’m just not looking for anything serious right now.”
- A guy who’s about to start a long-term relationship… with someone else.
I sit alone in the darkness, watching bugs fly one by one into the glowing fluorescent zapper machine my neighbors installed to keep the mosquitos away from their balcony. Every few seconds, like clockwork, the pervasive quiet that seems to wrap the world in wool at three in the morning is interspersed by the unsettling buzz of tiny winged kamikaze pilots meeting their maker.
Zap, zap, zap.
I am transfixed, entranced by the sudden flare of the bulb each time it claims a new victim. There is something morbidly fascinating about these insects, drawn against all natural instinct to their deaths by the lure of this warm, bright killer. Can’t they see their brothers and sisters before them, incinerated like birds flying too close to the sun? Don’t they recognize danger as they sail straight toward it?
Zap.
Apparently not.
I press the damp surface of my beer bottle against my cheek, closing my eyes at the cool sensation. It’s humid tonight. Sticky heat. The kind that makes you sweat through your clothes just sitting there still as a statue, doing nothing more exerting than pulling breath into your lungs.
The sprawl of downtown is a distant glow from out here on my narrow cement balcony, which overlooks a parking lot full of crappy old cars and cracked asphalt. This neighborhood is about as far from the glitz and glamour of the Hills as you can get while still calling Los Angeles home. Cynthia, my mother, hates that I live here almost as much as I hated living under the roof she pays for with an overly-generous alimony stipend from her third husband. Moving out last year with nothing but the thin wad of cash in my wallet, my broken-down Honda, and whatever clothes I managed to stuff into a duffle bag in the hour-long interval she vacated her beach-front condo in Manhattan Beach for her yogalates class was the best decision I ever made, even if she refused to speak to me for six months after she realized I’d gone.