Welcome to YA Scavenger Hunt! This tri-annual event was first organized by author Colleen Houck as a way to give readers a chance to gain access to exclusive bonus material from their favorite authors...and a chance to win some awesome prizes! At this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each author, you also get a clue for the hunt. Add up the clues, and you can enter for our prize--one lucky winner will receive TWENTY signed books, one book from each author on the hunt in my team! But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online for 72 hours!
If you'd like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage.
Scavenger Hunt Puzzle
Directions: Below, you'll notice that I've listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the gold team, and then add them up (don't worry, you can use a calculator!).
Entry Form: Once you've added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.
Rules: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by October 4, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
Scavenger Hunt Post
Today, I am hosting Pintip Dunn on my website for the YA Scavenger Hunt! |
| Pintip Dunn |
Pintip Dunn graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She then received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL. She is represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House. She is a 2012 RWA Golden Heart® finalist and a 2014 double-finalist. She lives with my husband and children in Maryland.
Find out more information by checking out the author website!
Buy the book from here!
Imagine a world where your destiny has already been decided...by your future self.
It's Callie’s seventeenth birthday and, like everyone else, she's eagerly awaiting her vision―a memory sent back in time to sculpt each citizen into the person they're meant to be. A world-class swimmer. A renowned scientist.
Or in Callie's case, a criminal.
In her vision, she sees herself murdering her gifted younger sister. Before she can process what it means, Callie is arrested and placed in Limbo―a hellish prison for those destined to break the law. With the help of her childhood crush, Logan, a boy she hasn’t spoken to in five years, she escapes.
But on the run from her future, as well as the government, Callie sets in motion a chain of events that she hopes will change her fate. If not, she must figure out how to protect her sister from the biggest threat of all—Callie, herself.
It's Callie’s seventeenth birthday and, like everyone else, she's eagerly awaiting her vision―a memory sent back in time to sculpt each citizen into the person they're meant to be. A world-class swimmer. A renowned scientist.
Or in Callie's case, a criminal.
In her vision, she sees herself murdering her gifted younger sister. Before she can process what it means, Callie is arrested and placed in Limbo―a hellish prison for those destined to break the law. With the help of her childhood crush, Logan, a boy she hasn’t spoken to in five years, she escapes.
But on the run from her future, as well as the government, Callie sets in motion a chain of events that she hopes will change her fate. If not, she must figure out how to protect her sister from the biggest threat of all—Callie, herself.
Exclusive Content -
FORGET
TOMORROW – alternate opening
The following is the original
opening of FORGET TOMORROW. I decided not to use this scene pretty early on –
although I’ve always liked it, this scene didn’t fit the direction of the
story. What was originally scene two is
now the opening of the book. Enjoy!
We’re
learning in school that our ancestors believed in God. He took many forms,
appearing sometimes as a single omniscient being and other times as a whole
gang of deities.
“God
was necessary,” Ms. Farnsworth lectures, tapping teal blue fingernails against
her beaky nose, “because back then, in the pre-Boom era, time travel was
nothing more than a theoretical possibility.”
She
doesn’t add that time travel still
isn’t possible, at least not for physical bodies. In the future, we’ve apparently
figured out how to send memories back in time, but so far, the present’s yet to
see evidence of an actual time-traveler. Unless, that is, you count Ms.
Farnsworth, who seems stuck in a fashion-era of her own making.
Even
now, she tosses her pink feather boa around her shoulders as if she’s a
flamenco dancer. Or a flamingo. “Any questions?”
My hand shoots into the air. “You mean, our ancestors
didn't have to wait until their 17th birthdays?” I blurt out. “They had this
God’s comfort all of their lives?”
My classmates gasp. Ms. Farnsworth blinks. Even my best
friend Marissa knits her eyebrows like she’s just been pinched.
What am I saying? This is blasphemy.
Every citizen in the North Amerie is allotted one memory
to fling into the space-time continuum, to be received by his or her
seventeen-year-old self. The memory can be sent any time after the legal age,
but conventional thinking advises waiting as long as possible, to ensure choosing
a proper memory.
Sometimes,
I feel as if I’ve been waiting all my life to turn seventeen. I measure my days
not by my experiences but by the time remaining until I receive my memory, THE
memory, the one that’s supposed to imbue meaning into my life.
They
tell me, then, I won’t feel so alone. I’ll know, without a shred of doubt, that
somewhere in another spacetime exists a future version of me, one who turns out
alright. I’ll know who I’m supposed to be. And I’ll never feel lost again.
Too
bad I have to live through sixteen years of filler first.
“Calla
Ann Stone.” Ms. Farnsworth’s high-pitched voice squeaks an octave higher. “I
hope you’re not seriously suggesting that the Agency is mistaken in setting the age of receipt? You don’t actually believe
that a sixteen-year-old is mature
enough to handle future memory?”
Right. As if a few
months’ time will stop Bobby Fernandez from drawing pictures of his anatomy on
his desk screen and turn him into a responsible adult.
I drop
my eyes to the table. “Of course not.”
Ms. Farnsworth sits in her chair and drums her hands
along the edge of her desk, fingers dangerously close to the button embedded in
the underside of the glass. “That’s not the way it sounded to me.”
Eighteen pairs of eyes fix on her hands. The button is
supposed to be a secret, but everyone knows it’s there. One push, and officials
from ComA will descend on the school so quickly, you would think they were
staked out in the trees. The button’s only been pressed twice since I’ve
started school – once, when Mikey Russell made a ball fly across the
racquetball court, without touching it,
and the second time, when Lena Pereles flipped out and started hacking at the ComA’s
Rulebook with a pair of scissors. I really don’t want to be number three.
“Callie’s
not herself today,” Marissa says, grabbing my arm. “She’s getting her memory
tomorrow, remember? It’s enough to put anyone on edge.”
Ms. Farnsworth purses her lips. My heart misses a few
beats and then, thank the Fates, she moves her hand from the button.
“I was hoping you could tell us about the time you
received your memory,” Marissa continues. “It must have been so exhilarating,
learning that you would someday become a teacher in this school.”
“Well, I suppose I could.” Ms. Farnsworth pats the glass
beads around her neck. “As you know, my class was one of the very first to
receive the memories in a structured manner Before the Agency intervened, the
memories struck individuals like a bolt of lightning – randomly but so vividly,
it gave the survivors of the Dark Days the hope they needed to rebuild the
future…”
I mouth
“thank you” to Marissa. We turn to our desk screens, and I tap out a word here
and there, barely comprehending what I’m typing.
It’s
over. I’m safe. She didn’t report me.
And
then I hear, from somewhere behind me, in a voice so low it might just be my
imagination: “It’s not like the Agency has any control over it.”
Enter the Contest
And don't forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of signed books by me, Cynthia Hand, and more! To enter, you need to know that my favorite number is 37. Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the green team and you'll have all the secret code to enter for the grand prize!
Continue the Hunt
To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need to check out the next author! Click here!
Enter The Extra ARC Giveaway
In honor of this special event, I'm going to give away 1 extra signed copy of THE LAST TIME WE SAY GOODBYE. Just follow the directions in the rafflecopter below:
