If I were to rank the questions I receive from readers, What should I read next? definitely makes the top ten.  Later this week I'll blog about books I've read recently and adored, but today I want to talk about just one book:  SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD by Lindsey Leavitt.  Lindsey and I have been friends for a long time, and we finally got to meet in person last month, when I drove out to Park City to spend time with her and a few other authors.  She gave me a copy of SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD, and I spent the next 274 pages laughing myself to pieces.  Talk about revisiting high school.  Cute boy, check.  Awkward family moments, check.  Slightly overenthusiastic bff, check.  Sarcasm and wit in spades, check.  

I think I've mentioned before that I don't watch movie trailers because I want to be surprised, and likewise, I don't often read back-cover blurbs because, again, surprise is key.  So all I'm going to say about SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD is in this romance, the cute boy doesn't turn out to be a fallen angel/zombie/werewolf/wizard.  He's a normal guy.  A guy so real he'll probably remind you of the guy you sat behind in (insert high school class). Yeah, that guy.  The one you had a crush on all year but never did anything about.  And probably regretted it for years after.  And after reading SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD, you'll get to experience that ache all over again, ha!

I loved SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD with a capital L, and wanted to do something special to spread the word. Since SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD is about first love, I asked Lindsey if she'd be willing to guest blog about her first love.  Here's what she had to say:

My first love came along when I was sixteen. He was also my last love--my husband. There was a breakup, some time apart, and some boyfriends in between. That story, however, is more of an epic, and Becca only asked me to do a guest post. So let's talk about my first like. Let's talk about my Sean Griswold.

His name was Carson (no it wasn't, but I'm protecting the innocent). I didn't have any classes with him freshmen year, but I'd see him at school events or parties and knew general stuff about him, like what sports he played and who his friends were. Sure, I thought he was cute, but I was a freshman in high school--there were four grades of cute. I don't think we'd ever had a conversation until I was assigned to sit next to him in class sophomore year. Carson would turn around and talk to me before class, and every day I found myself looking forward to those quick conversations. He had this adorable smile that took over his whole face, and I'd count how many times I could make him laugh. Sometimes I'd sit by him at lunch and he'd eat my fritos. Sometimes he'd wave at me during volleyball practice. All safe, fun flirting. Nothing big.

And then it got bad. Stomach-wrenching, back-of-the-knees sweating BAD. I learned his schedule, developed a Carson radar. I knew he wore his socially conscience T-shirt with the peace sign every Thursday. I went to the mall and sniffed every cologne until I figured out which one was his, then I doused my pillow in his scent (sweet Cool Water, I can't believe I just admitted to that). I had never liked a boy before, not like this, and I physically got ill every time I saw him. My friends called it "Carson fever." During class I was fine, but if I turned the corner and saw him in the hallway, I would run the other way. I had to be prepared. Girls, I'm not even kidding---I wrote out possible conversation starters. 

This went on for a few months until something happened to sabotage the non-relationship. Carson started to like me back.

Or maybe he'd liked me all along, I don't know. Regardless, his flirt meter kicked up a notch. He was re-assigned to the seat behind me, and he started to put his feet up on his desk. Or, oddly enough, sometimes he'd stick them on me. In books, boys say and do the right things, but life? Stinky shoes on shoulders. The first couple of times I'd laugh about it, but then the schtick started to bug me. And the peace sign shirt he wore was ugly. And his smile was just so... big. 

One day, I kind of snapped at him when he did the shoe thing, and he said, wounded, "When did you start to hate me?"

"I don't hate you. But... your shoes are on my list."

And then all the magic was gone. I'd see him in the hallway and give a quick nod. No butterflies. Nothing. I hated myself for feeling that way and wondered if the authenticity of my "likeness" was all fake. I wondered if I'd ever be able to like a boy again because I clearly didn't know how to control or maintain my feelings.

The summer came and went, and Carson was there next to me again, in another class junior year. I wasn't in "like" with him anymore, but I wasn't annoyed with him either. When I stopped focusing on the flirting and how close his hand was to mine, I grew to realize Carson was a really great guy. We never dated. We never hooked up. But I'm grateful my Carson crush. Not only did his high school ghost whisper to me while I wrote SEAN GRISWOLD'S HEAD, but he taught me a lot about the difference of LIKE and LOVE. And, of course, if I was still hung up on Carson, I would never had that historical first date with the funny boy in my physiology class. But, like I said, that's another story.


Becca again.  So now the only question is...who was your first love?  Permission granted to share your deepest, darkest secrets :)

I'll go first.  My very first crush happened in the sixth grade.  His name was Todd J. and he sat next to me in reading class.  He was smart, cute and a little nerdy.  On Valentine's Day he wrote me a poem about how much he liked my glasses.  I don't remember what I gave him in return.  Fortunately, as far as I know, he never blogged about it...