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#Giveaway Excerpt The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine by Frank L. Cole @franklcole @DelacortePress 8.27

By

The World's Greatest Adventure Machine by Frank L. Cole
ISBN: 0399552820
Published by Delacorte Press on August 8th 2017
Pages: 320
Goodreads
Welcome to Day #1 of The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine Blog Tour!
To celebrate the release of The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine by Frank L. Cole (8/8/17), blogs across the web are featuring exclusive content from Frank and 10 chances to win a copy of Adventure Machine, as well as theme park tickets in the Grand Prize Giveaway!
Excerpt

 

 Chapter 1

Trevor Isaacs sat in the passenger seat of the faded red Buick, his face pressed against the window. Out on the front lawn of the middle school, Principal Sullinger was bringing Trevor’s mom up to speed on Trevor’s latest stunt. Ms. Sullinger’s expression was grim, and her hands were gesturing wildly.
Trevor’s mom alternated between nodding and smiling at Ms. Sullinger, and shooting laser-like glares at Trevor. She was going to kill him. And bury him in the backyard next to Kittles the guinea pig.
After ten grueling minutes, the conversation finally ended, and Trevor’s mom walked briskly toward the parking lot. She slid into her seat, slammed the car door shut, and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
“Why, Trevor, why?” she asked, keeping her voice under control. “I had to leave work again. I can’t keep doing that.” Trevor’s mom was still wearing her scrubs and her name badge. Her hair looked like it had fought valiantly against an electric eggbeater and lost. “We’re barely making it as it is. If I lose my job, we’ll lose the house.”
Trevor stared at the floor of the car and kicked the backpack resting at his feet. “I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’ve managed to ruin yet another field trip. And now you’re banned from the East Chester Museum! Who gets banned from a museum?” She yanked the car into reverse and backed out of the parking lot. “We’re just lucky your principal didn’t make me pay for the emergency bus transportation. I had to practically beg her for mercy. And I can’t believe you’ve been suspended.”
“It’s not like they’ll hold me back or anything,” Trevor said, digging at the dirt under his thumbnail. “It’s the last week of school, and I’m done with all my testing.”
“It’s still a suspension.” She squeezed the steering wheel, and Trevor could hear the vinyl cover squeaking in protest. “You’ve gotten into trouble before, but never like this. Your teachers have always understood and have graciously over– looked our situation, but that’s not going to happen anymore.” As they approached a stoplight just outside the school grounds, Trevor noticed a couple of his classmates walking along the sidewalk, lugging their backpacks. They turned to see what car was approaching, and a big smile stretched across Hoyt Franklin’s face.
“You’re crazy!” Hoyt shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Is your mom taking you to jail?”
“Who are those boys?” Trevor’s mom asked. “Friends of yours?”
“That’s Hoyt Franklin and Eric Palmer.” The two boys had stopped walking and now stood on the curb pointing at Trevor and laughing. “They’re not really my friends.”
“You could’ve been seriously injured, or worse. And you put your whole school through that,” she said. “Did you know Ms. Dobson fainted? Don’t you roll your eyes at me!”
“Mom, she always faints. A few weeks ago, a kid got a deep paper cut and Ms. Dobson passed out in her chair. They had to use some awful-smelling powder to wake her up. Besides, no one was even on the lower level where it happened, and it was just a model.” He rolled down his window. It was almost summer, and the car’s air conditioner had never properly functioned.
Trevor’s mom glanced sideways at him. “You’re missing the point. Real airplane or not, you crashed it! You almost destroyed an entire World War II display.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you accidentally climbed down from the balcony onto the plane?”
“I dropped my phone,” Trevor said. “Someone bumped
my arm when we were heading to the next exhibit. What was
I supposed to do? Just leave it?”
“You don’t think about consequences. I’ll be getting a bill for this for sure, and it won’t be cheap.” She took a deep breath, held it, and then forced the air out through her nostrils. “What’s going to happen now? Hmm? What do you think, Trevor?”
He raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I’m going to be grounded.”
“You betcha,” she said.
“No electronics, no movies, no outside, no nothing.” He counted off the list of punishments on his fingers.
Her eyes softened a bit. “You can still play with your friends.”
“What friends?” Trevor asked. “I don’t have any friends.” “Don’t give me that. What about that Jordan Stinks boy?
He seems fun.”
“It’s Stiggs, Mom. Jordan Stiggs,” Trevor said. “And his parents grounded him from me for the summer.” If Stiggs’s parents didn’t want him near Jordan, no parent would let their kids hang out with him, especially once word got out about the incident at the museum, and word traveled fast in Decatur, Illinois.
“Maybe that’s because you keep putting yourself in extreme danger. And I know you can’t help it sometimes—”
“I can help it,” Trevor interrupted her. “I’m not stupid.”
 “I’ve never said you were stupid. No one thinks that. It’s just your condition. It’s not your fault you have a misfiring amygdala. But it is your responsibility to think things through. Just because you can’t feel fear doesn’t mean you can’t think about consequences.”
“Mom, I know. But I wasn’t going to get hurt. I landed that plane just fine.” No one ever understood. Maybe Trevor saw things differently from other kids, but he hated it whenever his mom talked about his condition.
“Great. Now who’s that?”
Trevor looked up to see a sleek black car with tinted windows parked in front of their house. A man with wavy blond hair and dark sunglasses stood at the front door. He was casually dressed, in blue jeans and a bright yellow T–shirt. As the Isaacses pulled in to the driveway, the man waved, but Trevor’s mom did not return the gesture. She parked, checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, and climbed out of the car.
“Hello there. Are you Ms. Isaacs?” The man stepped down from the porch, holding a black briefcase in one hand. “You must be from the museum? Please, call me Patricia.” “The museum?” The man crinkled his forehead. “No, most definitely not.”
“Then where are you from? The school? Is this about Trevor?” She clenched her jaw, awaiting the verdict on Trevor.
The man smiled. “I had one heck of a time trying to find this place. Took the wrong exit. Couldn’t seem to reach you on the phone either. I like to call first.” He had a sort of laidback voice that reminded Trevor of a surfer’s, only not as thick. Maybe a retired surfer. There was something familiar about it as well, although Trevor couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “To answer your question, I’m not from any school, but this does concern your son.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes as he noticed the emblem on the man’s shirtsleeve. An emblem that looked oddly like a small red castle flanked by two capital letter Cs. “Oh, no way!” He leapt onto the hood of his mom’s car and rolled to the other side, plopping down onto the driveway with a muffled thump.
His mom gasped. “What on earth—”
“I’m fine.” Trevor shrugged and brushed the gravel from his elbows before racing up to the porch for a closer look.
The man chuckled. “Well, that was entertaining.  You took a bit of spill there, didn’t you?”
“It doesn’t even hurt,” Trevor said. “I know exactly who you are. You’re Doug Castleton.”
The man nodded. “That’s right.”
Trevor clamped his hands to the sides of his head. “Mom”—he waved her over—“it’s Doug Castleton!”
His mom remained rooted next to her car. “And who exactly is that?”
Trevor’s mouth fell open. How could she not know? “Doug Castleton’s the owner of CastleCorp. I’ve watched all their videos. That stratosphere skydive was awesome! What are you doing at my house?” He jabbed the CastleCorp emblem on Doug’s arm with his finger.
“Trevor! What has gotten into you?” his mom demanded. “It’s okay, Patricia. The boy is excited, and rightfully so.
It’s not every day you win a worldwide contest.”
Trevor’s mom climbed the porch and looked at Trevor suspiciously. “You entered a contest? When?”
“Months ago,” Trevor said, rubbing his hands together. “But I didn’t think I’d actually win.”
“Where are you from, Mr. Castleton?” she asked. “He comes from Beyond,” Trevor answered.
“Oh, good grief. Would you just let the man talk?”
Doug smiled and nodded. “Actually, Trevor’s right. I come from Beyond. Beyond, California, that is. Right on the edge of the West Coast, not quite to Oregon, but close enough to the ocean that you can smell the surf.” He took a deep, blissful breath. “The most righteous smell of all.”
Trevor’s mom looked apprehensive, but then the hint of a smile began to form on her lips as she glanced at Doug. “Well, what is it, then?” she asked. “What did he win?”
Doug placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “A ride. The ride of a lifetime. One that will revolutionize the way we seek thrills on this planet. We’re talking the highest drops, the fastest spins and loops, the most breathtaking landscapes.” He paused, caught up in his own vision. “Trevor is one of
four lucky contestants to win a spot on the maiden voyage of the Adventure Machine.” Doug motioned to the Isaacses’ front door. “Should we step inside and discuss the details?”
Trevor shook his head in disbelief. It had to be a joke. He never won anything. Not even free fries from Chauncey Burger’s Annual Scratch-Off Game. “I won!” he shouted in disbelief, shaking both fists above his head in jubilation. In a matter of minutes, Trevor’s day had transformed from a disaster to the best ever.
Chapter 2
Wisps of smoke swirled toward the ceiling as the smell of burning pumpernickel bread wafted out of Beatrice Kiffing’s oven. Ms. Kiffing was reclining on one of the dining room chairs, sipping an icy beverage.
The smoke detector gave two warning chirps as it inhaled the plumes, and then exploded with a raucous clatter. Ms. Kiffing winced and set her drink down quickly. Just as she jumped out of her chair, the telephone in the kitchen started ringing. She hurried toward the oven, fanning her hand above her head at the smoke detector. Beatrice turned to the phone and was about to answer, when the sound of several screaming teenagers erupted from the hallway.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Beatrice barked.
Two young girls and a boy appeared in the doorway, coughing from the smoke as Beatrice, now wearing lobster- shaped oven mitts, removed the black loaf of charred bread from the stove.
“It’s just a little crispy!” she shouted above the sound of the alarm and the relentlessly ringing telephone. “No need to be so upset. I can scrape most of this off.”
One of the girls shook her head. “We’re not upset about that, Ms. Kiffing. It’s your son.”
Beatrice dropped the bread onto the kitchen counter with a thud and then once more went to work, vigorously fanning the smoke detector. “Is Cameron being too hard on you? He can be quite difficult when it comes to tutoring. Just tell him I said to lighten up.”
“I’m not going back in there,” the boy said. “Not until he puts his clothes back on.”
The trilling alarm finally ceased overhead, and the phone gave one final ring before falling silent. In the sudden quiet, Beatrice stared at the three disturbed teens, puffed out her cheeks, and rolled her eyes.
Down the hallway and through the third door on the left, eleven-year-old Cameron Kiffing stood on his bed, rap- idly scribbling equations across his window with a dry-erase marker. The small boy mumbled to himself, steadying his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his once-neatly-parted blond hair having morphed into a wild cocoon of dandelion fluff.
“Cameron, honey, you’ve caused a bit of a fuss with your friends,”Ms. Kiffing announced from the entrance of his room. She held the cordless phone at her side, her other hand still swallowed up in the mouth of one of her lobster oven mitts.
“They’re my students,” Cameron said breathlessly. “And they were the ones who caused the fuss. I merely needed to answer their preposterous question in the simplest way. There!” He spun around, gesturing at a single digit near the bottom of his window. “I told you. Didn’t I say—” Cameron blinked, scrunching his nose. “Where did they go?”
“Home. What have I told you about taking your clothes off when we have company over?”
Cameron glanced down at his pinkish, freckled skin, completely naked with the exception of a pair of Star Wars boxers. He scratched an ear and scanned the room, locating his khaki pants, socks, and turtleneck wadded up in a pile by his dresser. “That can’t be helped,” he said with a shrug. “You know how it is, mother. A brilliant mind shouldn’t be constricted.”
“But they’re loose-fitting. Even the tag says so.” His mom fished the pair of pants from the crumpled pile and tossed them to Cameron. Then she jumped as the phone in her hand started to ring again.
“Must be a telemarketer,” she said, squinting at the caller ID. “Don’t know why anyone from California would be calling me.”
“Did you say California?” Cameron zipped up his pants, his head popping out of his turtleneck like a glob of toothpaste from the tube. “What part? Answer it quickly before they hang up!”
“You just worry about your socks, dear. Hello?” Ms. Kiffing asked into the receiver. “Yes, this is his mother.”
Cameron silently watched her from his perch atop his mattress, listening intently. Viewed through his thick-lensed glasses, his eyes looked as if they had grown to the size of plums.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “He has, has he?” Ms. Kiffing’s brow furrowed and she glanced at Cameron suspiciously. “And what exactly has he won?”
Cameron crowed like a rooster and leapt from his bed. Had he been even three or four inches taller, he might have crashed into the ceiling fan.

 

Bonus Chapter 6

 

Beyond the doors, Trevor expected to see a spiral staircase or a foyer with lounging couches and a grand piano, the customary furniture one would find in an uppity mansion. Instead, the building opened up into high, vaulted ceilings made almost entirely of glass, allowing full visibility of the mountainous Globe looming outside. Three Jumbotron-like movie screens hovered in the air, displaying a barrage of information with colorful images and booming audio.

As the sliding doors sealed shut behind Trevor, blocking out the cameras and the desperate voices of the news report- ers, Doug gestured to the center of the atrium, where three children and their guardians stood waiting.

“Patricia and Trevor Isaacs, allow me to introduce you to Devin Drobbs and his father, Dan.” Doug motioned to a dark-skinned boy standing with his arms folded. He

had brown eyes and wore a red T-shirt and white basketball shorts. Devin held Trevor’s gaze for a moment, before flicking his chin in acknowledgment. The boy’s dad was an overly smiley fellow with a dark gray goatee. He brandished his phone in front of him and whispered something into his son’s ear. Devin turned and flashed a confident grin, and Trevor realized that Mr. Drobbs was using his phone as a video camera.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t be filming during this exchange,” Doug said, pointing at Mr. Drobbs’s device.

“Does the contract say not to?” Mr. Drobbs asked. “Actually, it may—”

“Either it does or it doesn’t, sir. And until a statement is noted in the fine print, I must insist on keeping my camera rolling.” Mr. Drobbs took a step closer, zooming his camera in so he could capture Trevor’s expression. “Little Rainy Rid- dle has one hundred thousand subscribers, eh, Devin?” He chuckled. “Well, we’ll see who has more after this weekend.” “Moving on,” Doug said, nodding to the next participant. “Nika Pushkin and her grandfather Mikel. They traveled all

the way from Russia to join in the fun.”

Though tall and skinny, Nika looked just around Trevor’s age. She had straight brown hair, olive-colored skin, and wore a white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. The girl carried a paper cup from which she scooped ice cream with a spoon. Trevor thought she was kind of pretty, despite the fact that she appeared to be glowering at him. Beside her, a white- haired gentleman stood stoically, wearing a red sports coat.

“From Russia, huh?” Trevor asked.

“Yes,” Nika answered. “We come from Chelyabinsk.” Trevor could pick up only a slight hint of a Russian accent when she spoke.

“That must have been a long flight,” he said. “We only had to fly in from Illinois.”

Nika’s grandfather sniffed and tugged on his sports coat lapels. “Fifteen-hour flight. Is not bad.” Mr. Pushkin’s accent came out thick and gruff, and he seemed incapable of smiling.

“Yeah, maybe not for you,” Nika mumbled.

“What did they serve you to eat?” Trevor asked. Fifteen hours most likely required several meals.

Nika stared at Trevor warily, before glancing at the others in the foyer. “Milk shakes,” she said, shaking her paper cup.

Doug nodded. “Right. And lastly, here are—”

“My name’s Cameron,” the third participant offered. He was a boy with thick red glasses that magnified his unblinking eyes, and stark blond hair parted down the middle. “Cameron Kiffing. It sounds like kissing, which I’ve never done, only instead there are Fs, which I’ve never earned. Presently, I’m the world’s smartest eleven-year-old. My IQ is ten points above genius level. This is my mom. Her name’s Beatrice. You can call her Ms. Kiffing, if you prefer.” He nodded at the woman at his side. Ms. Kiffing was much shorter than the other adults, and she possessed a bewildered, almost lost expression, as though she had no recollection of how she had arrived at the Adventure Machine facility.

“World’s smartest eleven-year-old?” Trevor asked. “I don’t even know what my IQ is, but I’m not afraid of kissing girls or getting Fs.” Not that he had done either, but at least he could safely say he wasn’t afraid. Trevor’s mom swatted his arm.

Devin snickered and whispered something under his breath to his dad. Nika glanced up from her milk shake and looked at Trevor, the faintest hint of a smile forming on her lips.

Cameron cocked his head to the side to study Trevor as well. “Strictly by my unprofessional opinion, I would have to say you have an IQ of 110, 115 tops.”

“Is that good?” Trevor asked.

Cameron shrugged halfheartedly. “Meh.”

“This is it. This is our crew,” Doug said. “And we are on the eve of your grand adventure. Now, if you will turn your attention up—” Doug gestured to the ceiling above them and the lights in the atrium dimmed. The informational displays on the Jumbotrons disappeared. Lasers shot out from the center of each of the three screens, converging into one massive beam that reached all the way to the floor. The beam appeared distorted at first, but then it grew solid, forming

a door. Trevor applauded and glanced at the other winners. They all seemed equally mesmerized by the awesome display.

Suddenly, the three-dimensional image of a man appeared, emerging from the cylindrical door. If Trevor hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed the man to be actually standing there in front of them; it was that flawless. The only proof otherwise was a few granulated pixels.

“Hello, lucky winners,” the holographic man said. “My name is Terry Castleton.” He had thinning gray hair and a few wrinkles weaving out from the corners of his mouth, but there was no mistaking the striking similarities to Doug. They both had the same eyes and the same confident smile. “I’m head of research and development at the Adventure Machine facility, and I’m here today to show you our most prized creation.” More lasers, a fraction of the size of the center beam, zigzagged down from the Jumbotrons, dancing across the ground. Like magic erasers, the lasers replaced a circular section of marble floor with bubbling lava. Trevor heard someone gasp. Devin and his dad took a cautious step back from the display. It wasn’t real, of course. Just an impressive show, but Trevor thought he could feel actual heat emanating from the virtual lava.

“My brother, Terry, would’ve been here himself,” Doug whispered to the group as the lasers continued transforming

the ground into a volcanic landscape. “But unfortunately, he

had a few meetings to attend. He’ll be here tomorrow for the launch.”

The lasers finished their work, leaving only a tiny rock beneath Terry’s feet.

“You are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime,” Terry said, then he vanished and was replaced by a long, silver vehicle. It looked like a standard roller coaster cart with an aerodynamic cone, four cushioned seats, and thick safety harnesses that pulled down over riders’ shoulders. Trevor had seen similar ones before and had even ridden in a few prior to being permanently banned from every amusement park in Illinois. Apparently, people didn’t like it when you got out of your seat during the ride. Who knew?

“We call it the Adventure Machine.” Terry’s disembodied voice spoke as the image of the roller coaster rotated, giving the group the ability to view the contraption at all angles. The cart then began moving forward along a track. “Using state- of-the-art technology, the Adventure Machine taps into the riders’ minds to create a thrilling experience.”

The background blurred as the vehicle reached incredible speeds. It plummeted down steep slopes, careened through loops, bucked, pitched, and barrel-rolled, before screeching to a stop.

“Imagine a ride that will allow you to experience this.” A series of intense scenes flashed across the screen. The cart surged through a fire-filled landscape. There was a blinding blizzard, followed by an avalanche and a tidal wave; then the images flipped through countless other scenarios, before ending with a final scene of the cart vanishing into a pitch-black tunnel.

The column of light vanished along with the Adventure Machine and Terry Castleton. The Jumbotrons once again displayed their previous images.

 

*****
Blog Tour Schedule:
August 14th — BookhoundsYA
August 15th — Good Choice Reading

August 16th— Word Spelunking
August 17th — Life Naturally

August 18th — A Dream Within a DreamAugust 21st— Reading Teen

August 22nd — Crossroad Reviews
August 23rd — Novel Novice
August 24th — YA and Kids Books Central
August 25th — Once Upon a Twilight

Follow Frank: Website | Twitter | Facebook

An adventure novel about four lucky kids and a mysterious, but thrilling ride for fans of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Jurassic Park!

CastleCorp and the famous Castleton brothers are unveiling the World’s Greatest Adventure Machine! The roller coaster is an experience like no other, and four lucky kids have won the chance to be the first to ride it.

There’s Trevor, whose latest stunt got him in trouble at school again. There’s Devin, whose father is pushing him to be the next Internet sensation. Nika’s wealthy grandfather isn’t too pleased about her participation. And Cameron, he’ll be the first to tell you, is a certified genius.

The whole world is watching. But as the kids set off on their journey, they begin to realize that there is perhaps more to their fellow contest winners than meets the eye. And the Adventure Machine? It might just have a mind of its own.

Join the contestants on their wild ride if you dare. Your adventure starts now!


 About the Author: FRANK L. COLE lives with his wife and three children out west. When not writing books, Frank enjoys going to the movies and traveling. The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine is Frank’s ninth published book and his second with Delacorte Press. His first was The Afterlife Academy. You can learn more about his writing at frankcolwrites.com or find @franklcole on Twitter.


GRAND PRIZE GIVEAWAY

  • One (1) winner will receive a copy of The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine and a set of two theme park tickets to the park of your choice (up to $125)
  • US Only
  • Enter via the rafflecopter below
  • Giveaway ends 8/27 at midnight ET

 


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AND ONE MORE GIVEAWAY 
ONE COPY of The World’s Greatest Adventure Machine

**Giveaway Ends 8.27.17 and is open to all who can legally enter.
Open to residents of the US, sorry no PO Boxes
Must be over 18 or have your parents permission to enter.
An email will be sent and you have 48 hours to reply or a new winner will be chosen.
The Winner will be announced within 48 hours at the end of the giveaway.
Giveaway is organized by Bookhounds and sponsored by the Publisher (email Bookhounds@hotmail to verify if you won!)
It has no affiliation with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other entity.
Void where prohibited.
Not Responsible for lost, stolen or misdirected prizes.**

 

 

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Comments

  1. What an awesome and exciting idea for a book! I love the rollercoaster part and suspensefulness where riders may not get to decide where to go.

  2. I just finished reading The Pants Project (loved this middle grade book) and before that I loved Time Traveling with a Hamster. Middle grade fiction is my favorite to read.

  4. This sounds like a fun book. Trevor seems quite adventurous. Looking forward to reading this.

  5. I love rollercoasters. I used to be afraid of them, but I love the thrill and ride them whenever I can!

You'd have to have, like, a lentil for a soul to hate wiener dogs. ~Zuzana from The Daughter of Smoke & Bones by Laini Taylor