Blog Tour: Blue Horizons by Kathryn Andrews

Title: Blue Horizons
Author: Kathryn Andrews
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance
Published: October 19, 2015

Will Ashton

Music is my motivation. I’ve always believed that, because of it, I would be somebody. Somebody to someone, and something to myself.

At age four, I picked up my grandfather’s acoustic guitar and, up until three weeks ago, I’ve never put it down. From a single chord to a full arrangement, music fed my soul. I craved it with every fiber of my being, but now, I just don’t know. That driving force that’s always pushed me has somehow stalled, along with the thrill, the passion, and the familiarity . . . it’s all gone. I’m beginning to worry that my love for music just isn’t enough.

As the summer tour finally comes to an end, I head to the Blue Ridge Mountains instead of returning to Nashville. It’s here that I’ve always been able to lose myself amongst the solitude and the lake, but what I didn’t expect to find was her.

Wild blonde hair, light blue eyes, and a laugh I find myself trying to coax from her has me completely enamored. She’s quiet, incredibly poised, and driven by secrets as big as the mountains around us. They’re what’s made her untouchable, and left me wanting to know more.
Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe I need more. Maybe I need her.

Ava Layne

They say that life isn’t about how many breaths we take, but how many moments take our breath away. But what if those moments aren’t filled with happiness and love, but something dark and haunting? For me, it’s those moments that’ve shaped and taken over my life. I can’t change who I am, God knows I’ve tried, and, because of this, I’ve accepted the silver lining . . . I’m alive.

Fifty-two white keys, thirty-six black keys, ten fingers, seven notes, two friends, and one stage. At the piano, on the stage, with my two best friends, I finally found myself, and I live for those moments. One by one, I collect them, cherish them, patiently waiting for the next, until it arrives and changes everything. That’s the moment I meet him.

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Taking a bow, I raise my guitar with one hand and wave toward the guys in the band with the other. The crowd is wild and has begun chanting, “More, more, more . . .” But I just don’t have any more left in me. Brian, our manager, is standing off to the right enthusiastically rocking back and forth—heel to toe—and sheer joy is radiating off of him. I know this show was probably the best of the tour, but damn, if it wasn’t completely draining. I left it all out there. I have nothing.
With one more wave, I brush past Clay and walk off the stage. Immediately, I’m surrounded by crew and security. After our last show in Flagstaff, I had asked for more security coverage. I swear, with each show the fans have been getting crazier and crazier.
“Hey, Will, over here!” a shout comes from my left.
“Oh my God, it’s Will Ashton!” comes from my right.
All around me, people are shouting my name and trying to reach through security to touch me. The noise turns into a buzz and the people turn into a blur. I’m hot, my head is pounding behind my eyes, and I just need out of here. I pull my hat down a little lower over my face and focus on walking.
I miss the days of the small town bar. People came out because they enjoyed the quaintness and realness of listening to original live music. The people here at these concerts? I’m not so sure. The piercing screaming of the girls night after night has drilled into the base of my skull, giving me a headache that can only be relieved by a six-pack in dead silence, along with some ibuprofen and sleep.
I weave my way past those who’ve somehow managed a backstage pass. Rudely, I don’t stop for any of them, and I just don’t care. That seems to be my motto tonight, not caring. Whatever. Clay and the other guys will handle them.
Out of nowhere, a tiny blonde girl steps in front of me, forcing me to stop.
“Great show tonight, Will.” She draws out my name, looking at the ground and then back up through her eyelashes. If I’ve seen this look once, I’ve seen it a thousand times.
I look her over from head to toe and can’t help but smirk at her in disgust. Sure, she’s cute and all, but at this point, they all look exactly the same, and easy girls have never been my thing.
My eyes shift to Frank, the head of my security team, and he knows I want her gone. Moving past her, she grabs on to my arm to stop me. Frank immediately pulls her off.
“Hey, aren’t you going to say anything?” She sounds desperate. How did she get back here and out from behind the barricades anyway? I glance behind her and see Brian, our self-appointed ass monitor. Why this guy thinks he knows what I need and want, I’ll never know. I glare at him with complete loathing and he takes a step backward.
Gritting my teeth, I walk straight past the rest of the guys from the stage crew and out to the tour bus. I’m done with this shit. No more lights, no more screaming, just no more.

OVER TEN YEARS ago my husband and I were driving from Chicago to Tampa and somewhere in Kentucky I remember seeing a billboard that was all black with five white words, “I do, therefore I am!” I’m certain that it was a Nike ad, but for me I found this to be completely profound.

Take running for example. Most will say that a runner is someone who runs five days a week and runs under a ten minute mile pace. Well, I can tell you that I never run five days a week and on my best days my pace is an eleven minute mile. I have run quite a few half marathons and one full marathon. No matter what anyone says . . . I run, therefore I am a runner.

I’ve taken this same thought and applied it to so many areas of my life: cooking, gardening, quilting, and yes . . . writing.

I may not be culinary trained, but I love to cook and my family and friends loves to eat my food. I cook, therefore I am a chef!

My thumb is not black. I love to grow herbs, tomatoes, roses, and lavender. I garden, therefore I am a gardener!

I love beautiful fabrics and I can follow a pattern. My triangles may not line up perfectly . . . but who cares, my quilts are still beautiful when they are finished. I quilt, therefore I am a quilter.

I have been writing my entire life. It is my husband who finally said, “Who cares if people like your books or not? If you enjoy writing them and you love your stories…then write them.” He has always been my biggest fan and he was right. Being a writer has always been my dream and what I said I wanted to be when I grew up.

So, I’ve told you who I am and what I love to do . . . now I’m going to tell you the why.
I have two boys that are three years a part. My husband and I want to instill in them adventure, courage, and passion. We don’t expect them to be perfect at things, we just want them to try and do. It’s not about winning the race; it’s about showing up in the first place. We don’t want them to be discouraged by society stereotypes, we want them to embrace who they are and what they love. After all, we only get one life.

In the end, they won’t care how many books I actually sell . . . all that matters to them is that I said I was going to do it, I did it, and I have loved every minute of it.
Find something that you love and tell yourself, “I do, therefore I am.”

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