{Guest Post+Giveaway} New Covers for the Burnout Series by Karen Gordon

Both are stand-alone but they’re best read in sequence and both are available to read for Free in Kindle Unlimited.

Carrie twisted the knife in her hand and took another swipe at it. Maybe if she used a lighter touch with her swirly strokes she could bury the crumbs that had pulled off the cake and worked their way to the surface. She looked again at the photo of the Yellow Butter Cake with Chocolate Frosting and her heart sank more. Martha Stewart’s cake was tall, and straight, and perfect. The stunning guests at her perfect party would love it. Carrie’s cake was lopsided, had crumbs, and there was really no one to eat it.Her bottom lip started to tremble again. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and breathed deep ‘til she could will back the sting of tears wanting to form. She was not going to let her win this time. This was her god-damned 16th birthday, and her mother was not going to take this one from her too. She leaned over the counter and put her head on the cold granite and worked to steady her breathing, listening hard for sounds from her parents’ bedroom. None. She had no idea what her mother did when she locked herself in there. Maybe wait for someone to break down the door so she could continue her show. Well, good luck with that, lady. No one here but you and me, and I’m not playing your game. She listened for sounds from her brother’s room. None. Christopher must still be napping.

Carrie pushed the plate holding the slightly-lopsided yellow butter cake with crumbly-chocolate frosting to the center of the kitchen island and rested her head on her stacked fists to study it. Why had she made it? Did she really hold out hope that this would be the year that her Dad remembered her birthday, and he would come home to have cake with her? She huffed and shook her head at that ridiculous idea. So, why take almost four hours to make a whole cake from scratch for just her, her mom and two-year old Christopher? ‘Cause someone had to do it. Just because she lived in the house of crazy didn’t mean she didn’t get a birthday. If her parents couldn’t get it together to have one for her, she’d just do it herself.

As she stared at the cake, thinking how much she didn’t want to eat it after all that batter-bowl licking and icing tasting, she noticed a steady pop, pop, pop, swish sound from outside. Usually Ben shooting hoops in his driveway drove her nuts, but tonight the steady cadence was soothing. Always three dribbles, pop, pop, pop, then he would shoot, swoosh. Never four dribbles, never two, always three. Sooo Ben. Carrie rolled her eyes, but listened again, sure enough, pop, pop, pop, swoosh. Predictable Ben, boring Ben, irritating Ben … but, usually hungry Ben. Last summer, while he was away at camp, Ben had grown really tall. He was a total bean-pole, over 6-feet tall, and all gangly arms and legs. Now he looked like a cross between Dennis the Menace and the Jolly Green Giant, but he could eat a lot of cake.

Carrie silently opened the door to her brother’s room. Christopher was still sound asleep, sprawled sideways across his big-boy bed, held in place by the safety railing. He had been sleeping almost two hours. That was a long afternoon nap for him. Probably a growth spurt going on there too. Maybe he and Ben could make a dent in the cake together.

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Pop, pop, pop, swoosh. Ben didn’t stop shooting when he noticed her. She scanned her memory for the last time she talked to him. Had she pissed him off? It had been so long, she couldn’t remember. They went to the same school, were in the same grade, and usually sat by each other when they had class together because their last names were close in the alphabet, but their high school lives were worlds apart.

He was wearing one of the ugly ‘Class of ‘99’ tee shirts they had been selling at school. Carrie made a mental note to talk to him about how un-masculine the purple tie dye looked.

She stood on the edge of the driveway waiting to be noticed, careful not to get in his way. Pop, pop, pop, swoosh. He was definitely ignoring her. Shit. She wished she could remember what he could be mad about. The problem was that it was so easy to make him mad. They had so many fights and make-ups over the years, it was just one big blur to her now.

She finally called out to him, “hey.” Pop, pop, pop, swoosh. She considered just going back to her house, but years of experience had taught her that one apology would put her back in Ben’s good graces. As soon as she was the one to admit fault, they were good again.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what for.

Ben stopped between rounds and finally looked at her, “what for?”

Did he actually expect her to remember? She was sure he remembered. You would think he could use his Mensa brain for something other than remembering every little thing she did wrong.

“I’m sorry I made you mad.” That should cover a lot of territory.

Ben started his dribble pattern again and turned away from her but not before she saw his smile. He wasn’t really mad, he was just giving her a hard time. OK, that was kind of funny. She needed that today.

“Want some cake?”

“Sure,” He paused to consider the offer, “why?”

“’Cause I made a whole cake, and there is no one to eat it but Two-fer and me.” Ben had started calling Christopher ‘Chris-two-fer’ on his last birthday, which was now shortened to just Two-fer.

“You made a cake for no reason?”

She wasn’t about to tell him about her birthday. She didn’t need a pity party. “Yeah, I saw it in a magazine, and I just felt like making it.”

Ben set his basketball in the grass on the side of the driveway where it couldn’t roll away. He took care of his stuff like that. Carrie was sure it was the same basketball she had given him for his birthday when he turned 8. Back then they were always invited to each others parties.