We are thrilled to be sharing RUNAWAY TRAIN by Lee Matthew Goldberg with you today!
RunAway Train is a heartfelt, laugh-out-loud YA and we can't wait for you to read it!
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Synopsis:They told me I was an out-of-control train about to crash…
Everything changed when the police officer knocked on the door to tell me – a 16-year-old – that my older sister Kristen had died of a brain aneurysm. Cue the start of my parents neglecting me and my whole life spiraling out of control. I decided now was the perfect time to skip town. It’s the early 90’s, Kurt Cobain runs the grunge music scene and I just experienced some serious trauma. What’s a girl supposed to do? I didn’t want to end up like Kristen, so I grabbed my bucket list, turned up my mixtape of the greatest 90’s hits and fled L.A.. The goal was to end up at Kurt Cobain’s house in Seattle, but I never could have guessed what would happen along the way. At turns heartbreaking, inspiring, and laugh-out-loud funny, Runaway Train is a wild journey of a bygone era and a portrait of a one-of-a-kind teenage girl trying to find herself again the only way she knows how.“Realistic and shocking, hopeful and satisfying, Runaway Train will keep readers turning the page." — USA Today Bestselling Author Rebecca Forster
Check out the Spotify Playlist for RunAway Train!
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/64jZFlPEDYXsbclGLN5Qtm?si=Evldqm4qQyi4rBtnsq4CwwAnd then head over and enter the GIVEAWAY for 1 of 3 paperback copies!
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Runaway Train – Soul Asylum
The grunge mixtape I’d made for Kristen has become a permanent fixture in my life, rotating from the car’s tape deck to my Sony Sports Walkman as if it possesses the uncanny ability to keep me further connected to her. We’d gotten into a fight before she died. Not a knockdown, drag-out, hair-pulling kind of battle—more so a test of willpower. I’d taken to smoking cigarettes in my room. This was a new phase. Before I’d previously sneak them in the backyard, but my personality was starting to veer toward not giving a flying pig. She complained about the dangers of secondhand smoke and that she could smell it in her room. I told her she was mental. Then we had our dueling music wars.
Kristen blasted Mariah Carey’s “Dreamlover,” super happy pop garbage that I counterbalanced with some Alice in Chains “Dirt” with its heavy guitars, droning vocal harmonies, and drug-induced lyrics. She fought back with Janet Jackson’s insipid “That’s the Way Loves Goes.” Barf city. So I attacked with Soundgarden’s “Jesus Christ Pose,” thrashing guitars yet powerfully ethereal. She cued up some Ace of Base, and I rushed inside her room and turned off that nonsense.
“Like, don’t you want to listen to music that has meaning?” I asked, my blood boiling. How could we come from the same womb and be such polar opposites?
Kristen was wearing a green facemask, her blond hair in a ponytail, ready for bed super early since she had a 6:00 a.m. track practice.
“Don’t you ever want to listen to something that’s not so depressing and moody?”
I started to respond that not all my favorite songs are depressing, but “Jesus Christ Pose” ended and “Face Pollution” began, making my point moot.
“I like songs about love,” Kristen said.
“Mariah Carey is like artificial sweetener.”
“Her songs are catchy,” Kristen said. “Music doesn’t have to open up a vein like you want it to.”
“Will you just give, like, Nirvana a try?” I asked, begging. My eyes were even tearing, unsure why I was getting so emotional.
“Nico, it’s just not for me.”
“I’ll play ‘Drain You’ and you’ll see–”
“I have early practice tomorrow,” she said, turning her nose to the door as an indication for me to leave. So I stomped out and turned my music up even louder, just to piss her off. The next day we didn’t speak and the following morning after that she died so I could feel extra lousy about my shitty self.
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