tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56236294989394852352024-03-13T10:29:24.450-06:00On Writing and RidingBlog for Marlene Moss, author.GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.comBlogger561125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-71200046719771611502017-07-27T12:01:00.000-06:002017-07-27T12:01:05.586-06:005 stars! Static Mayhem by Edward Aubry #fantasy #magic<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the most original story ideas I've ever read! Lots of fun, tension, and even a pixie. 5 star review - go get this book!</div>
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<b>~ About the book ~</b></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pee_QKdc34M/WXi8gBFGh-I/AAAAAAAAC50/nmjF5M4Tb9UXNl3sklY7eZ3QZ4tyxHD5ACLcBGAs/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pee_QKdc34M/WXi8gBFGh-I/AAAAAAAAC50/nmjF5M4Tb9UXNl3sklY7eZ3QZ4tyxHD5ACLcBGAs/s320/cover.jpg" width="211" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">A year after the world was thrown into magical chaos, Harrison Cody takes part in an expedition to learn the cause.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">What his team finds is an unfathomable enemy, who intends to finish what was started and wipe out every remaining survivor.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Harrison is the key to stopping it, but doing so will come with an unbelievable sacrifice, one he might not be willing to make.</span></div>
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<b>~ My Review ~</b></div>
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I’ve read the original Mayhem book, as well as Prelude to
Mayhem, which is book 1 in splitting the original into two parts. When I
learned of this approach, I wasn’t sure it would make sense as I liked the
original and change is hard for me! ;-) But I did enjoy seeing the characters
and the new world more in-depth in Prelude. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Static Mayhem also did not disappoint. We learn just a bit
more about the characters, their pasts, their personalities and the world is
described in greater detail which is all great fun. This book is a bit darker,
less of discovery, more a mission to possibly return the all the mayhem to boring
normalcy (of course that would restore a lot of lives but sad to lose magic!)<o:p></o:p></div>
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The main character, Harrison, has some rough moments in this
book. He transitions from an amusing, sometimes blundering, but very likeable
guy to someone in a leadership role in a scary world with someone actively
trying to wipe them out. Being thrust into this kind of difficulty is
understandably hard, especially balanced with Harrison’s determination to save
those he cares about, even if it means sacrificing himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As usual, Glimmer is my favorite character. I enjoyed
learning more about her decidedly odd circumstance of being the only pixie left
as well as just how powerful she might be. We don’t see as much of Dorothy and
Mitchell in this book for logical reasons, but I thoroughly enjoyed the
continuation of the story and can hardly wait for the next installment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Static Mayhem is highly recommended, both for those who read
the original and those who haven’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I received a copy of the ebook in exchange for my honest
review.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>~ Purchase links ~</b></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0746SZXBC/ref=series_rw_dp_sw" target="_blank">Amazon</a> </div>
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<b>~ Previous book in the series ~</b></div>
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<b>~ About the author ~</b></div>
<h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: "Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 1.255; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 4px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility;">
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KWs2sPqlj9g/WXi8O00TeBI/AAAAAAAAC5w/iWExTvC_y9kxwqale86O13NHDnseqBgqgCLcBGAs/s1600/author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="137" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KWs2sPqlj9g/WXi8O00TeBI/AAAAAAAAC5w/iWExTvC_y9kxwqale86O13NHDnseqBgqgCLcBGAs/s1600/author.jpg" /></a>Edward Aubry is a graduate of Wesleyan University, with a degree in music composition. Improbably, this preceded a career as a teacher of high school mathematics and creative writing.<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Over the last few years, he has gradually transitioned from being a teacher who writes novels on the side to a novelist who teaches to support his family. He is also a poet, his sole published work in that form being the sixteen stanza “The History of Mathematics.”<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He now lives in rural Pennsylvania with his wife and three spectacular daughters, where he fills his non-teaching hours spinning tales of time-travel, wise-cracking pixies, and an assortment of other impossible things.</div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-33767535121013654022017-04-24T23:00:00.000-06:002017-04-24T23:00:25.265-06:005* review of Subversion by @MelindaFriesen @ChapterXChapter #ya #dystopian #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P4RCn7u73aY/WO6zxOACmtI/AAAAAAAACqE/U5JHckvSVqEIVlF0-i96cmPoZUMeMmUiwCLcB/s1600/SubversionTour.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P4RCn7u73aY/WO6zxOACmtI/AAAAAAAACqE/U5JHckvSVqEIVlF0-i96cmPoZUMeMmUiwCLcB/s320/SubversionTour.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>~About the book~</b></div>
<i>Subversion (One Bright Future #2) by Melinda Friesen</i><br />
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<i>Publication Date: August 31, 2016<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Publisher: Rebelight Publishing</i></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MEBxBWm2fQ/WBtjVRdjRcI/AAAAAAAACQM/yEwpa2vPwv0oeGRMnp_xuCdjexKJ_7xCwCLcB/s1600/Subversion%2BCover.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_MEBxBWm2fQ/WBtjVRdjRcI/AAAAAAAACQM/yEwpa2vPwv0oeGRMnp_xuCdjexKJ_7xCwCLcB/s320/Subversion%2BCover.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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“I surrender my days, my efforts, myself to the OneEarth
Bank . . .”<br />
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After fleeing slavery, Rielle James burns with the desire to
topple OneEarth Bank and end its enslavement of young people as Contracts. When
she learns that her friend Nathan has been sold to a logging company where
Contracts die or vanish without a trace, she assumes a false identity and
becomes a slave again to help him escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her act of subversion uncovers the horrific truth behind the
OneEarth Bank’s role in Contract disappearances and its link to a global
pandemic.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Can Rielle and Nathan escape and expose the truth before
it’s too late?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>~My Review~</b></div>
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One word review: Wow!<o:p></o:p></div>
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The details:<o:p></o:p></div>
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I enjoyed Enslavement, the first book in Melinda Friesen’s
One Bright Future series, so jumped at the chance to review Subversion, book 2
even though I have started a business and my writing/reading world has
diminished over the past year. Even though I enjoyed book 1, I did comment in
my review that I thought Rielle, the main character, allowed things to happen
to her, she wasn’t really taking the reins in her own rescue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That thought is completely and instantly gone from the first
pages of Subversion. Rielle is determined to rescue Nathan, a fellow Contract
at the Banker’s house. He was supposed to help her escape in Enslavement, but
when things go wrong, she escapes without him and he’s captured and sold into a
very dangerous position at a logging camp. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Even though Rielle is now with Justin, nephew to her previous
owner and supporter of ending the slavery setup, she can’t leave Nathan to die,
so she conspires to be sent to the camp to rescue him. And Rielle’s rebel aunt
finds a way to communicate with her and asks her to up the risk by finding out what
secret the camp is hiding and why so many people are disappearing there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course Nathan would rather she be safe rather than risk
her life saving him, so the rescue starts on rocky footing. There is daily
tension between her kitchen co-workers, the often injured loggers, and the
brutal supervisors. Rielle doesn’t back down even when she should. I won’t give
away the rest of the story, but the action and tension are non-stop, Rielle is
a true hero through gut-wrenching twists. The ending is painful, because of course
it’s not the end and book 3 can’t come soon enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The writing is top-notch, grammar and punctuation in good
shape, the story excellent. 5 stars. Don’t miss this one – go read Enslavement
to get the maximum enjoyment from Subversion and then deal with waiting for book
3 like me!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Link to Goodreads:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23585287-enslavement" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23585287-enslavement</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Purchase Links:</span></u></b></div>
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Buy Links: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Enslavement-Bright-Future-Melinda-Friesen/dp/0993939007/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422485975&sr=8-1&keywords=enslavement+melinda+friesen&pebp=1422485971554&peasin=993939007">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-bright-future-melinda-friesen/1120739158?ean=9780993939006">Barnes
& Noble</a> | <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/One-Bright-Future-Melinda-Friesen/9780993939006">TBD</a> |<a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9780993939006"> IndieBound</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u>Link to Tour
Schedule:<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><a href="http://www.chapter-by-chapter.com/tour-schedule-subversion-by-melinda-friesen-presented-by-rebelight-publishing/">http://www.chapter-by-chapter.com/tour-schedule-subversion-by-melinda-friesen-presented-by-rebelight-publishing/</a>
</span></div>
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<b><u>Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Two (2)
winners will received a physical copy of Subversion by Melinda Friesen
(US/Canada)</span></li>
<li>·<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Five (5)
winners will receive a digital copy of Subversion by Melinda Friesen (INT)</span></li>
</ul>
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<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="c08c9e8e626" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/c08c9e8e626/" id="rcwidget_gfe1iqh0" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script><br />
<br />
Other books in the series:<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7na1CysCoQ0/WBtjXrD_lGI/AAAAAAAACQQ/qtswqdzYlNMlXfwRcaLAV91mhaI5FKlbACLcB/s1600/Enslavement.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7na1CysCoQ0/WBtjXrD_lGI/AAAAAAAACQQ/qtswqdzYlNMlXfwRcaLAV91mhaI5FKlbACLcB/s320/Enslavement.png" width="195" /></a>"One world. One currency. One bright future."</div>
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That's the promise made by OneEarth Bank after a global
economic collapse--but only for those who accept the insertion of a commerce
chip. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When Rielle's parents refuse to comply, government officials
tear her family apart. As punishment for her parent's crimes, Rielle is forced
into a Community Service Contract--a legalized form of slavery--and sold to a
wealthy, abusive banker.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Banker's secrets hold the key to Rielle's freedom, but
will she risk prison or even death to escape and search for her family?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23585287-enslavement">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23585287-enslavement</a>
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<b>~About the author~</b></div>
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Melinda Friesen was born in Portland, Oregon. She
attended school in Texas and met a vastly interesting Canadian man, who she
allowed to drag her to his home in the wilds of Manitoba, Canada. Living in an
igloo wasn't easy. Wait. She didn't actually live in an igloo, but that would
make this story much more interesting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bgn-Z5dENTM/WBtjaoKCgWI/AAAAAAAACQY/7TT9h6LYJC0Oz1ATovFzcdlUpiKDI7FYwCLcB/s1600/2x3ED1751MelindaFriesenAuthor-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bgn-Z5dENTM/WBtjaoKCgWI/AAAAAAAACQY/7TT9h6LYJC0Oz1ATovFzcdlUpiKDI7FYwCLcB/s320/2x3ED1751MelindaFriesenAuthor-27.jpg" width="213" /></a>Among her accomplishments are surviving -40 degree
weather, gestating four human beings inside her body, and staying happily
married to that Canadian man for over 20 years despite the weather conditions
he's exposed her to. And she writes too! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Melinda Friesen writes short stories and novels for
teens. Enslavement, a YA sci-fi/dystopian read, is her first published novel
and the first book in the One Bright Future series. Her work has appeared in
Freefall Magazine, the Metro News and the upcoming Forging Freedom II
anthology. She was shortlisted in the Writers' Village International novel
contest, spring 2014. Her short stories have placed in several contests
including earning grand prize in the 2013 Central Canada Lit Fest short story
contest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Connect with the
Author: <a href="http://www.melindafriesen.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/MelindaFriesen">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/melindafriesen1">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9864890.Melinda_Friesen">Goodreads</a>
| <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/melindafriesen/">Pinterest</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.chapter-by-chapter.com/blog-tours/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4d73oh6ZGXk/WBtjY8wa79I/AAAAAAAACQU/ycbw67c3Ny8BF8FY4yDvYn98BqRNer2pACLcB/s1600/Chapter-by-Chapter-blog-tour-button.png" /></a></div>
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<br />GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-39542873641140360522017-01-27T00:00:00.000-07:002017-01-27T00:00:12.748-07:00Review of The Amaranthine Chronicles by Tiffany Shand #fantasy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WRhHgKCx2Y/WHZjCUycQEI/AAAAAAAACZg/MBRmWUeK9LYMpdzof-dEK7uoFjGUKu_IQCLcB/s1600/boxset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WRhHgKCx2Y/WHZjCUycQEI/AAAAAAAACZg/MBRmWUeK9LYMpdzof-dEK7uoFjGUKu_IQCLcB/s1600/boxset.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>~ About the book ~</b><br /><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Title: The Amaranthine Chronicles
Box Set (3 Novellas)</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Author Name: Tiffany Shand</div>
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Genre: Urban Fantasy</div>
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Release Date: January 25, 2017</div>
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Page Count: 203<o:p></o:p></div>
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Amazon:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2iCihkV">http://amzn.to/2iCihkV</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Goodreads:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33642816-the-amaranthine-chronicles-complete-series">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33642816-the-amaranthine-chronicles-complete-series</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Follow the Tour to Read Reviews of
The Amaranthine Chronicles:<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<a href="http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2017/01/review-tour-schedule-amaranthine.html">http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2017/01/review-tour-schedule-amaranthine.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>~ The Novellas in the Box Set ~</b></div>
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<u>
Betrayed by Blood:</u></div>
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In a city of lies and deception,
only one thing stands between chaos and justice. For centuries, a band of
outlaws called the Amaranthine has kept the peace in Ormere and hidden in plain
sight whilst the Order of Sorcerers spreads their deadly magic among the city’s
inhabitants.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After losing her fiancé in [a] bust
gone wrong, Amaranthine Agent Kaylan Avilion returns home to discover that
Elijah didn’t die but instead was changed by the twisted guards of the Order,
who seek to find a dangerous artifact tied to Kaylan’s past and the murder of
her family. When her sister goes missing and a foe from their past remerges,
Kaylan knows she must save Freya before she’s poisoned by the very people who
took Elijah away from her. But how will Kaylan react when she learns Elijah’s
secret and can they come together to stop the Order’s plan in time?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Dark Revenge:</u></div>
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Darkness is sweeping through the
city of Ormere as unnatural creatures stalk through the streets. People are
dying and time is running out as a new evil threatens to take control of
everything. The Amaranthine Order has been decimated leaving only a few of its
people left to fight the coming terror.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Stunned by her sister Freya’s
betrayal and plot to take over the city, Kaylan must do everything she can to
find out what Freya plans to do when she finds an infamous book linked to the
murder of their family. A book considered so dangerous that the last High Lord
erased its location from history, the Amaranthine Chronicles are said to
contain the darkest of all magics.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Kaylan is happy to finally have her
ex-fiancé, Elijah, back in her life but he’s not the man she once knew and
loved. After being turned into a shapeshifter, Elijah struggles to control his
inner beast and his lingering feelings for Kaylan.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Can Elijah and Kaylan come together
to stop Freya and uncover the secrets of the book before it’s too late?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<u>The Final Battle:</u></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Darkness has claimed the city of
Ormere and death has become a certainty for anyone stalking its empty streets.
The government is in ruins and lawlessness ensues.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After their last encounter, Kaylan
and Elijah barely managed to thwart her sister, Freya’s, latest attempts to
find and use the elusive Amaranthine Chronicles. But in her desperation to
receive ultimate power, Freya will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Even
if it means destroying the last of her family.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kaylan and Elijah must work on
their fragile relationship and put their personal feelings aside to find the
book and stop Freya before it’s too late. But with their allies growing thin,
and a gang of ruthless shapeshifters close on their trail, will they finally
find the book and stop Freya before time runs out? And will Kaylan have to make
the ultimate sacrifice to save her city and the man she loves?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>~ My Review ~</b></div>
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The Amaranthine Chronicles is set in an imaginative world of magic, mental powers, shapeshifters, and of course, the typical good guys and bad guys and really bad guys. The characters are well developed and it's clear what each are striving for. </div>
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The main character, Kaylan, can fly, even carrying her wolf-form boyfriend, communicate with him and others mentally. Some of the other Amaranthine agents carry crystals and charms for instant transportation, creation of light, and other miscellaneous abilities that pop up when needed. </div>
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Good thing for the flying ability or Kaylan and Elijah wouldn't be able to break into a mansion repeatedly by going through upper floor windows. While Kaylan tries to find her sister, the city is overrun with creatures that have been turned into shifters of some kind and are uncontrollable since they're recently turned. Virtually every Amarantine agent is killed except Kaylan and her group. Through the novellas, it's revealed to Kaylan that her memories have been altered and much of what she knows about her deceased father and sister is untrue. She and Elijah end up in several tense situations, barely escaping death.</div>
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I give the story concept and setting 3 stars and many people will enjoy it. However, for writers or people who like to pick books apart or have even a tinge of grammar Nazi in them, overall the book falls short with typos, missing words, half-edited sentences, punctuation issues, and many confusing pronouns. I give it 2 stars for writing as that's a hot button for me and will round the overall rating to 3 stars just in case I received an unedited copy. If you know the type of reader you are, you will either enjoy the series or experience some frustrations.</div>
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<b>~ About the author ~</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Tiffany Shand started writing short
stories when she was a child. After doing a creative writing course in her
teens, she discovered her love of nonfiction writing and is now a freelance
writer and professional editor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
She writes both non-fiction for
writers and fiction, and is the author of the urban fantasy Excalibar
Investigations Series. When she’s not writing, you’ll usually find her reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Tiffany lives in Essex, UK with her
family, two very spoiled cats and a hamster.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="http://thecreativeauthorpreneur.com/">Tiffany’s Blog</a></div>
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<a href="http://tiffanyshand.com/">Tiffany’s
Author Website</a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/tiffanyshandauthor?ref=aymt_homepage_panel">Facebook</a></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://twitter.com/tiffanyshand">Twitter</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-55779854770742611582016-11-23T00:00:00.000-07:002016-11-23T00:00:01.040-07:00Review of Time Traveller's Resort & Museum by David McLain #sci-fi #fantasy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaK0o6POJyM/WCna0OyZNvI/AAAAAAAAZ-w/aGEXXbmtcmYx_ZfxWNTQ930LbpxApum_wCLcB/s1600/The%2BTime%2BTraveller%2527s%2BResort%2Band%2BMuseum%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaK0o6POJyM/WCna0OyZNvI/AAAAAAAAZ-w/aGEXXbmtcmYx_ZfxWNTQ930LbpxApum_wCLcB/s320/The%2BTime%2BTraveller%2527s%2BResort%2Band%2BMuseum%2BCover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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New Release by David McLain!</div>
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Title: The Time Traveller's Resort and Museum</div>
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Author Name: David McLain</div>
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Illustrator: Felix Eddy</div>
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<br /></div>
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Genre(s): Time Travel, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Adventure, Romance, Comedy, Steampunk</div>
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Release Date: November 17, 2016</div>
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Publisher: Mirror World Publishing </div>
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(<a href="http://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/">http://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/</a>) </div>
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<br /></div>
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Follow the Tour:</div>
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<a href="http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2016/11/book-tour-schedule-time-travellers.html">http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2016/11/book-tour-schedule-time-travellers.html</a></div>
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<b>~ About The Time Traveller's Resort and Museum ~</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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“If you need to know men's secrets</div>
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Or if there's something you need to find </div>
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If you want to see the dinosaurs </div>
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Or the insides of your mind.</div>
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If you want to watch the earth begin,</div>
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Or see what the apocalypse will leave behind,</div>
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You need to thank Alice Anderson,</div>
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For Alice is the mother of time.”</div>
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That was how the rhyme went. Every time traveler knew it. Everyone that is, except of course, for Alice herself, since she hadn’t invented time travel yet. Since returning to London, Alice’s life has been turned upside down. She’s been accused of murder and lost her position in the scientific community. Her only ally in this journey is a strange man who seems to think that Alice may be about to open up a strange new world of possibilities, but is probably not telling her everything he knows.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>~ My Review ~</b></div>
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The Time Traveller's Resort & Museum is quirky and a dirigible full of fun. Imagine not only that you could travel in time, but also slip into worlds where anything imagined was real. Sherlock Holmes, King Arthur, dragons. Well, not dragons. Maybe.</div>
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Alice's world is turned upside down when she returns to England for a presentation with longtime friend Malcom and then he suddenly turns up dead. And she's the prime suspect. Luckily strange people start popping up to help her get away. Away from the police, away from the whole timestream where Malcom was killed.</div>
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Fabulous! Time travel exists. But the craziest thing is that Alice learns that sometime in her future, she's the one who invented it! We follow her twisted path to that invention along with her pet triceratops, a handsome pirate, a circus clown, and a mysterious oriental woman who knows Alice is a murder suspect and seems to be following her through time.</div>
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This was a really fun story. The writing was quirky and mostly fun although the tendency for many scenes to end in a telling mode, explaining what would happen in the future didn't always sit well with me. Mostly personal preference though. </div>
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The characters were well developed, descriptions excellent. And the illustrations which don't usually come with adult reads were cute and really added to the overall imagery. The book could use some more editing to correct a few typos and unfinished sentences but the story twists kept that from being a focus.</div>
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Recommended read and I'd certainly love to read a sequel! 4 stars from me.</div>
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<b>~ Read an Excerpt ~</b></div>
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“Hello,” Alice said, with a certain degree of reluctant enthusiasm.</div>
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“You sound American,” an annoyed voice on the other end of the line said.</div>
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Alice dropped her bag. “I've been in New York for three years,” Alice said. “You're lucky I don't sound like I'm from the Bronx.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was Alice's sister, Wendy, giving what by her standards was a remarkably warm and friendly greeting. “You're lucky I don't steal your passport while you’re here and force you to teach Electrical Engineering at the University of the Orkneys. Electrical Engineering, that's what you do, isn't it?”</div>
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“You do realize that I just spent an entire evening in a metal tube, sitting on a very small seat that appeared to have been made from rocks confiscated from terrorists at security?”</div>
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“Terrorists use rocks these days?”</div>
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“Well, they're harder to spot going through metal detectors, aren't they?”</div>
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Ending a sentence with a question apparently sounded appropriately British and Wendy seemed to ease up a little.</div>
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“How was the flight, then?” she asked.</div>
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“I believe I aged three years,” Alice answered, looking for the way to the exit. “Do you want to have a drink?”</div>
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“Is that a rhetorical question?”</div>
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“In America, it's considered polite to ask.”</div>
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“I believe that the University of the Orkneys has early tenure.”</div>
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Wendy took pride in her absolute loathing of all things American. She saw Alice's decampment to New York as nothing less than a complete betrayal.</div>
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“Would you mind if we met in at my hotel?” Alice asked, trying to sound as if this were a polite request and not a desperate plea.</div>
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“I don't know,” Wendy said. “There aren't going to be a lot of randy outer-space types there, are there?”</div>
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“It's an astronomy conference,” Alice insisted. “Not a Sci-Fi convention.”</div>
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There was the unmistakable sound of pursing lips on the other end of the phone. “What hotel are you staying at?” Wendy asked.</div>
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“The Kensington.”</div>
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Wendy thought about it. “I'll meet you, but let's meet somewhere else. There's a pub down that way that I've had my eye on.”</div>
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“Wendy–”</div>
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“I have to drive in all the way from Brixton. You can walk a hundred metres out of the hotel lobby.”</div>
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Alice sighed. She decided not to point out that in fact she had come quite a bit farther than hundred meters. “What's the name of the place?” she asked.</div>
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“The Gristle and Thorn,” Wendy said.</div>
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Alice spotted the word “EXIT” on the far side of the hall. “Couldn't find any place with a ghastlier name? Was the ‘Skull and Crossbones’ already booked?”</div>
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“Just meet me,” Wendy insisted, and for a moment, she did her best to sound kind. “I've missed you.”</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
It has been said that all journeys begin with a single step, and while it might seem that Alice's journey began all the way back at JFK, in actuality the first step of Alice's journey began with a decision. It was not a big decision, not the kind of thing that would strike a historian as a significant chapter in the decline and fall of the Western Empire, but for Alice Anderson, it was the equivalent of crossing the Rubicon. It was the simplest thing really – a choice of restaurants.</div>
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“The Gristle and Thorn it is,” Alice said, picking up her bag again and shuffling through the crowd.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-euABQe17KX8/WCneSN5SHkI/AAAAAAAAZ_E/2xts5ehRGjYnHJkxvJgGAoLQBRz8YT_WACLcB/s1600/Xtra%2BSomethingForTheBack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-euABQe17KX8/WCneSN5SHkI/AAAAAAAAZ_E/2xts5ehRGjYnHJkxvJgGAoLQBRz8YT_WACLcB/s320/Xtra%2BSomethingForTheBack.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
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Meet the Author:</div>
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David McLain is the author of the two novels: <i>Dragonbait</i>, and <i>The Life of a Thief</i>. His stories have been published in the anthologies <i>Metastasis, Penny Dread II</i>, and the Doctor Who Anthology<i> Time Shadows</i>, as well as over two dozen magazines. He has been featured on NPR's Off the Page and the History of England podcast. He lives in New York.</div>
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Connect with David McLain: </div>
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Website: <a href="http://mydogisgross.tumblr.com/">http://mydogisgross.tumblr.com/</a> </div>
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Linked In: <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/david-mclain-63b77963">https://www.linkedin.com/in/david-mclain-63b77963</a> </div>
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Facebook Page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DavidMcLainDragonbait/">https://www.facebook.com/DavidMcLainDragonbait/</a> </div>
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Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5814869.David_McLain">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5814869.David_McLain</a> </div>
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Publisher’s Website: <a href="http://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/our-authors-2">www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/our-authors-2</a></div>
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Meet the Illustrator: </div>
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Felix Eddy graduated Magnum Cum Laude from Alfred University. She is the author and illustrator of <i>A Bestiary Alphabet</i>, and has illustrated several book covers and children's books. You can find out more about her at <a href="http://www.felixeddy.com/">www.felixeddy.com</a></div>
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Purchase Links:</div>
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MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING: </div>
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Paperback: <a href="http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-paperback">http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-paperback</a> </div>
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Ebook : <a href="http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-ebook">http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-ebook</a> </div>
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Hardcover: <a href="http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-hardcover">http://mirror-world-publishing.myshopify.com/collections/poetry/products/the-time-travellers-resort-and-museum-hardcover</a> </div>
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AMAZON.COM: </div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2eT8hRT">http://amzn.to/2eT8hRT</a></div>
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AMAZON.CA: </div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Time-Travellers-Resort-Museum-ebook/dp/B01M66TQZV/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477600719&sr=8-1&keywords=david+mclain">https://www.amazon.ca/Time-Travellers-Resort-Museum-ebook/dp/B01M66TQZV/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477600719&sr=8-1&keywords=david+mclain</a> </div>
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KOBO: </div>
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<a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-time-traveller-s-resort-and-museum">https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-time-traveller-s-resort-and-museum</a></div>
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BARNES & NOBLE: </div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1124986783?ean=9781987976243">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1124986783?ean=9781987976243</a></div>
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Chapters.Indigo: </div>
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<a href="https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-time-travellers-resort-and/9781987976229-item.html?ikwid=David+McLain&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=3">https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-time-travellers-resort-and/9781987976229-item.html?ikwid=David+McLain&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=3</a></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-61575616468544866022016-11-22T00:00:00.000-07:002016-11-22T12:29:43.801-07:005* review of Edward Aubry's Prelude to Mayhem #fantasy #sci-fi <div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OCXlvxly6mA/WDSckMongEI/AAAAAAAACSg/KDcHczUQMxU52CtDnwCenwN5Kz3dnFUswCLcB/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OCXlvxly6mA/WDSckMongEI/AAAAAAAACSg/KDcHczUQMxU52CtDnwCenwN5Kz3dnFUswCLcB/s320/cover.jpg" width="211" /></a><b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Prelude
to Mayhem (The Mayhem Wave, Book I)</span></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Genre:</span></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult, New
Adult<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> Curiosity Quills Press<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Date
of Release:</span></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> November 28,
2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">~ Description ~<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">On May
30, 2004, the world transformed. Nearly all signs of civilization vanished,
leaving in their wake a bizarre landscape of wilderness, advanced technology
and magic, and leaving Harrison Cody very much alone. After weeks of surviving
in solitude, he hears a voice on the radio, beckoning him to cross a thousand
miles of terrifyingly random terrain to meet her, and other survivors, in
Chicago. Eager to find any remnants of humanity, he sets forth, joined by an
unexpected—and inhuman—companion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">For
Dorothy O’Neill, the end of the world means she will never finish ninth grade.
On her own, she builds a home in the ruins of a strip mall, relying on her
ingenuity and hard work to maintain some semblance of creature comforts. When
another survivor arrives, he brings futuristic technology and stories of
monsters he has encountered. Armed with this information, she takes a new
interest in exploring her world, but she is not prepared for what awaits her,
and the new arrival has brought his own set of problems.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">On their
separate journeys, Harrison and Dorothy begin to piece together what has
happened to their world. Their questions have answers to be found in what
remains of Chicago, and from the mysterious voice on the radio offering the
hope that civilization can be rebuilt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29916668-prelude-to-mayhem">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Prelude-Mayhem-Wave-Edward-Aubry/dp/1515911810" target="_blank">Amazon Audio</a> | Coming soon!</span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><b>~ My Review ~</b>
</span></div>
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There are two sections to my review, first for people who’ve
never read Static Mayhem and second, for those who have and why they should
also read Prelude to Mayhem.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you haven’t read Static Mayhem, then you should
definitely read Prelude to Mayhem now! This is a awesome story in which most of
Earth’s population has disappeared, leaving behind an odd scattering of magical
devices and creatures as well as futuristic human technology.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What would you do in such a world? Have fun, panic, search
for other humans? Probably some combination of all these. Harrison takes the
crazy event in stride, but as soon as he finds out there are other humans left
(from a radio transmission in Chicago) he’s on a mission to find them. Even
though it means a dangerous trek from the northeast US where roads suddenly end
in cliffs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Along the way, he meets other humans and also magical
creatures along with finding out that something/someone wants him dead. He
meets Dorothy, a brilliant teenager surviving quite capably on her own and a
young boy who’s terrified of something, along with my favorite character,
Glimmer, a pixie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What awaits them in Chicago? Of course not everything in
this tumbled world can be loving and beneficial. And even Harrison finds out
he’s been affected by magic in a completely unexpected way. Prelude to Mayhem
shows the reader how these characters will be capable of handling a lot.
Hopefully enough. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I thoroughly recommend this book. It’s a fun read with
extremely well developed characters in an unexpected world.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, for those who’ve already read Static Mayhem - no major
spoilers if you haven’t - I still recommend reading Prelude to Mayhem. While
it’s basically the first part of Static Mayhem, it has been updated and
explores more details of Harrison and Dorothy’s personalities. The chapters are
more balanced between the two POVs. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I think this will set the reader up even better for the
remainder of the story in the new version of Static Mayhem which is the final
part of the first story. But even better, I thought the development of Dorothy
was much deeper and made me appreciate her even more as a main character. I’ve
also read an early version of the sequel, Mayhem’s Children, and this version
of the start of the story sets up that book even better.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Aubry’s writing is awesome, the editing is quite good.
Definitely one of my top reads for the last couple years. 5 stars, highly
recommended.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-no-proof: yes;">~ About The Author ~</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lUB80beM5H0/WDN9ShRWvQI/AAAAAAAACSA/hwQIYcjZi4Q3uBdyaT_qw3qy1Vk9STIpgCLcB/s1600/author%2Bpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lUB80beM5H0/WDN9ShRWvQI/AAAAAAAACSA/hwQIYcjZi4Q3uBdyaT_qw3qy1Vk9STIpgCLcB/s200/author%2Bpic.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>
<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt; font-weight: normal;">Edward
Aubry is a graduate of Wesleyan University, with a degree in music composition.
Improbably, this preceded a career as a teacher of high school mathematics and
creative writing.<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt; font-weight: normal;">Over
the last few years, he has gradually transitioned from being a teacher who
writes novels on the side to a novelist who teaches to support his family. He
is also a poet, his sole published work in that form being the sixteen stanza
“The History of Mathematics.”<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt; font-weight: normal;">He
now lives in rural Pennsylvania with his wife and three spectacular daughters,
where he fills his non-teaching hours spinning tales of time-travel,
wise-cracking pixies, and an assortment of other impossible things. <o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"> ~ Find Edward Aubry </span><strong><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11pt;">Online ~</span></strong></h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/aubry?fref=ts"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Facebook</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> | </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://twitter.com/EdwardAubry"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Twitter</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> | </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4385051.Edward_Aubry"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">Goodreads</span></a></span></div>
GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-48140151776767715882016-10-20T21:00:00.000-06:002016-10-20T21:00:16.897-06:00Celebration book #giveaway from Month9Books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Auq1Ivx9Lmw/WAetM4eKjDI/AAAAAAAATk4/rvFm-7e6jmMsgq5bGIuIqw8pw-LMBp2HwCLcB/s1600/M9B-Bday-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Auq1Ivx9Lmw/WAetM4eKjDI/AAAAAAAATk4/rvFm-7e6jmMsgq5bGIuIqw8pw-LMBp2HwCLcB/s400/M9B-Bday-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Welcome to Month9Books Turns 4 Birthday Bash! We’re thrilled
to share this celebration with you!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s a quick note from Georgia McBride, owner of
Month9Books! <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Month9Books is turning 4 this year, and I could not be
happier. We are living proof that if you have a dream to write, create and
inspire, you should follow that dream and let nothing keep you from realizing
it. Thank you to all the readers, writers, agents, partners and friends who
have made this possible. We write for you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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--Georgia McBride, Publisher and Owner of Month9Books”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thanks so much for 4 awesome years! We look forward to
celebrating #5 with you in 2017! We have something for everyone from every
genre from Sci-Fi to Fantasy to Paranormal and Horror! As a thank you, we're
giving away some well-loved books from 2015 and 2016. All paperback and
hardcover winners must reside in the United States. International readers may
receive only eBooks if they win. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s a look at all of the books we have published through
the years! </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8E_5ZIxBsAI/WAetej2TuLI/AAAAAAAATk8/WkklX1wpfbkV4U78LV11lCUvAtCq-k6TACLcB/s1600/Covers%2BGif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8E_5ZIxBsAI/WAetej2TuLI/AAAAAAAATk8/WkklX1wpfbkV4U78LV11lCUvAtCq-k6TACLcB/s400/Covers%2BGif.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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Two and Twenty Dark Tales: Dark Retellings of Mother Goose
Rhymes<o:p></o:p></div>
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Very Superstitious: Myths, Legends and Tales of Superstition<o:p></o:p></div>
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Praefatio (Praefatio, #1) by Georgia McBride <o:p></o:p></div>
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THE Undertakers: Secret of The Corpse Eater by Ty Drago <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fledgling (Dragonrider Chronicles #1) by Nicole Conway<o:p></o:p></div>
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Avian (Dragonrider Chronicles #2) by Nicole Conway<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fire in the Woods by Jennifer M. Eaton<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh
Statham <o:p></o:p></div>
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Summer of The Oak Moon by Laura Templeton <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Undertakers: Last Siege of Haven by Ty Drago <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Artisans by Julie Reece<o:p></o:p></div>
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Into The Dark by Caroline Patti <o:p></o:p></div>
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Serpentine by Cindy Pon<o:p></o:p></div>
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Minotaur by Phillip Simpson <o:p></o:p></div>
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Nameless by Jennifer Jenkins <o:p></o:p></div>
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Ashes In The Sky (Fire in the Woods #2) By Jennifer M. Eaton
<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Undertakers 5: End of the World by Ty Drago<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Requiem Red by Brynn Chapman<o:p></o:p></div>
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Emerge by Tobie Easton<o:p></o:p></div>
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There Once were Stars by Melanie McFarlane <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Paladins (The Artisans #2) by Julie Reece <o:p></o:p></div>
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Argos by Phillip W. Simpson<o:p></o:p></div>
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Traitor (Dragonrider Chronicles #3) by Nicole Conway<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rise by Jennifer Anne Davis <o:p></o:p></div>
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In The Shadow Of The Dragon King by J. Keller Ford<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hair In All The Wrong Places by Andrew Buckley<o:p></o:p></div>
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Genesis Girl by Jennifer Bardsley <o:p></o:p></div>
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Into The Light (Into The Dark #2) by Caroline Patti<o:p></o:p></div>
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un/Fair by Steven Harper <o:p></o:p></div>
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Operation Tenley by Jennifer Gooch Hummer<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Perilous Journey Of The Much Too Spontaneous Girl (The
Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl #2) by Leigh Statham<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sacrifice (Serpentine #2) by Cindy Pon<o:p></o:p></div>
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Clanless (Nameless #2 ) by Jennifer Jenkins <o:p></o:p></div>
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The Legend of The Pumpkin Thief by Charles Day<o:p></o:p></div>
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In The Beginning Anthology<o:p></o:p></div>
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Immortal (Dragonrider Chronicles #4) by Nicole Conway<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>A total of 13 winners
will receive….<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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(1) Hardcover of SERPENTINE by Cindy Pon, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Paperback of EMERGE by Tobie Easton, US ONLY.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Hardcover of POPPY MAYBERRY: THE MONDAY by Jennie K.
Brown, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Paperback set of THE DRAGONRIDERS CHRONICLES by Nicole
Conway, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Paperback set of HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES by Andrew
Buckley, POLARIS by Beth Bowland, and ARTIFACTS by Pete Catalano, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Paperback set of THE UNDERTAKERS SECRET OF THE CORPSE
EATER & THE UNDERTAKERS LAST SIEGE OF HAVEN, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(1) Paperback set of TWO AND TWENTY DARK TALES, THE REQUIEM
RED by Brynn Chapman, FIRE IN THE WOODS by Jennifer M. Eaton, & RISE by
Jennifer Anne Davis, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(3) Paperbacks of MINOTAUR by Phillip W. Simpson, US Only.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(3) International winners will receive a 5 eBooks of their
choice from books listed above.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-64894117821204670062016-10-09T22:10:00.000-06:002016-10-09T22:10:07.385-06:005 star review of Wicked Path by Eliza Tilton #ya #fantasy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GdEqYLxwcvk/V_pxzAiJ8LI/AAAAAAAAYEQ/bMbLQtCOZHYhWNAJmTUAXPtnPObcTTkVgCLcB/s1600/Wicked%2BPath%2Bby%2BEliza%2BTilton%2B-%2BBlitz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GdEqYLxwcvk/V_pxzAiJ8LI/AAAAAAAAYEQ/bMbLQtCOZHYhWNAJmTUAXPtnPObcTTkVgCLcB/s400/Wicked%2BPath%2Bby%2BEliza%2BTilton%2B-%2BBlitz.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Title: Wicked Path <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author: Eliza Tilton <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Genre: YA Fantasy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hosted by: </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.ladyambersreviews.com/">Lady Amber's PR</a></span><u><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nvFk0rP6zfY/V_pzDBndT7I/AAAAAAAAYEc/1NFC1_HzSSUOKyaMScBt-saq29fRuZHhwCLcB/s1600/Wicked%2BPath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nvFk0rP6zfY/V_pzDBndT7I/AAAAAAAAYEc/1NFC1_HzSSUOKyaMScBt-saq29fRuZHhwCLcB/s400/Wicked%2BPath.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Blurb: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In Wicked Path: Book Two of the Daath Chronicles brother and sister are forced to opposite sides of Tarrtainya on a fast-paced adventure where the wildlife isn't the only thing trying to kill them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Three months have passed since Avikar defeated the Reptilian Prince, and he still can't remember his battle with Lucino. On the hunt for answers, he returns to the scene of the fight and discovers a strange connection between his family's dagger and the mysterious kingdom of Daath, and it seems only his distant father can reveal the truth behind it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Before Avikar can travel back home, Lucy assaults him in the market and forces him to flee to Nod Mountains--a place few dare to enter, and even less return from. With Raven and her childhood friend by his side, they must survive the treacherous journey through the pass with a vengeful Lucy hunting them. If they don't, they'll never see home again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jeslyn's new life in Luna Harbor is the perfect remedy for her confused and broken heart. But when a group of mercenaries kidnap her beloved Grandfather, interrupting her daily routine as his jewelry apprentice, she's forced to join forces with the one person from her past she tried to forget.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And his assistance comes with a price.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22452354-wicked-path"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1d8SmepYMww/V0YC99kGB6I/AAAAAAAAVKk/fgIdiMJuXn0QUfl7xDji3FS5jsbIV_BOwCPcB/s1600/AddtoGoodreads.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIW8SqXwLBM/V1svXx7uhCI/AAAAAAAAVkA/GIwn5-sLSiQdNDJJbr2n_Jrmz-vGMrbvACPcB/s1600/Review.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIW8SqXwLBM/V1svXx7uhCI/AAAAAAAAVkA/GIwn5-sLSiQdNDJJbr2n_Jrmz-vGMrbvACPcB/s1600/Review.png" /></a></div>
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Yay, book 3 is here! Crimson Tides picks up where Wicked
Path left off. We get three perspectives nicely woven through the story from
Avikar, Lucino, and Jeslyn. All three are on separate missions with conflicting
goals, so you know this will get tense!<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was nice to see Avikar struggle with his feelings toward
fallen comrades, his father’s mysterious past, and his blooming love of Raven.
Lucino’s character is also deepened, you have to root for him (most of the
time!) even though he has the ability and possible intention to slaughter all
humans. Jeslyn must decide the future she wants as well as take her own path to
get there – and by the end of the book, she is just learning the implications
of her choice, so there is more to come for all three characters, which I’m
glad to see.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was a plot twist near the end that some people won’t
like and it made me sad. But then all the more determined to know how the story
continues.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This sequel is definitely worth reading. The writing is good
and Ms. Tilton’s fight scenes are quite exciting. And if you haven’t read it,
you should check out the short story Deadly Dance, which throws a fun twist in
showing how Lucy and Derrick ended up together in Crimson Tides.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well done, 4.5 stars, rounding to 5.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ojt_GpiGWWY/V1rpMlX8NkI/AAAAAAAAVhY/028XVDyr73A2fIBiy0IMbbGoTRV943cAACPcB/s1600/Author-Bio.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ojt_GpiGWWY/V1rpMlX8NkI/AAAAAAAAVhY/028XVDyr73A2fIBiy0IMbbGoTRV943cAACPcB/s1600/Author-Bio.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uuy_4TrsUf0/V_pzZbnTqeI/AAAAAAAAYEg/v6JdFtOugq8fBNrxj9PrkM1Hal4PK11XgCLcB/s1600/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uuy_4TrsUf0/V_pzZbnTqeI/AAAAAAAAYEg/v6JdFtOugq8fBNrxj9PrkM1Hal4PK11XgCLcB/s200/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" width="107" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Eliza graduated from Dowling College with a BA in Visual Communications. When she’s not arguing with excel at her day job, or playing Dragon Age 2, again, she’s writing. Her stories hold a bit of the fantastical and there’s always a romance. Her YA Fantasy series, The Daath Chronicles, is published by Curiosity Quills Press.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author Links: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Web: </span><a href="http://elizatilton.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://elizatilton.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: </span><a href="https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instagram: </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goodreads: </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Buy Links: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Broken Forest: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wicked Path: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Crimson Tides: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9</span></a><u><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Deadly Dance: <a href="http://amzn.to/2dowHCZ">http://amzn.to/2dowHCZ</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our ship was gone, leaving us alone in an empty sea. Out here with nothing but calm water, I felt deserted; terrified. All those mornings I’d wished to venture out into the sea, to explore its beauty and splendor, I had no real understanding of the danger. How easily it was to be lost—and what about the creatures? We had no weapons, and if a shark attacked, how would we survive?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wrapped my arms around my sides, praying and wishing this was all a horrific dream—that Grandfather was safe in his bed, snoring, and none of this was real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Because if it wasn’t a dream, I was going to die.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-88238935856178696242016-09-16T00:00:00.000-06:002016-09-16T00:00:15.588-06:00Cover & chapter reveal of Nicole Conway's Immortal #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NiJRmo4ZP60/V9mY92MFCNI/AAAAAAAATQc/LikKUHibnhEfniwQt8EyTnefdSx327O_gCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NiJRmo4ZP60/V9mY92MFCNI/AAAAAAAATQc/LikKUHibnhEfniwQt8EyTnefdSx327O_gCLcB/s320/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Nicole Conway and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for IMMORTAL, the final book in the <i>Dragonrider Chronicles</i> which releases November
8, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers
to receive a eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">A quick note from the author:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br />
</span></i><i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">This book marks the end of
the first Dragonrider series, and I couldn't imagine a better cover to go with
it. It's a darker but beautiful reflection of the first book's cover, just as
the war has changed Jaevid from an innocent boy to a man chosen by destiny and
driven to do what is necessary to save his loved ones. To be honest, I had
mixed feelings as I put the final touches on this book. I'm filled with hope
for the next series, confidence that my readers will enjoy it as much as they
have the first one, but also sadness to see this one come to a close. It's like
saying goodbye to an old friend, knowing you'll see them again someday.</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> IMMORTAL
(Dragonriders Chronicles#4)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Nicole Conway<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> November 8, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback, eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/2cx3BDw"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/immortal-nicole-conway/1124443352?ean=9781944816537">B&N</a>
| <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Immortal-Nicole-Conway/9781944816537?ref=grid-view">TBD</a>
| </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27212876-immortal?ac=1&from_search=true"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Destiny has called.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">With Jaevid Broadfeather forever lost to
the depths of Luntharda, Felix Farrow struggles to stand on his own. He begins
a violent downward spiral which causes him to abandon his post as a
dragonrider, hiding in the halls of his family estate. His one hope for
redemption lies within the heart of someone from his past—and the very last
person he ever wanted to see again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">And now the time has finally come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Hovrid, who has ruled Maldobar as a
tyrannical imposter, is preparing to make a decisive assault against Luntharda
that will destroy what remains of the elven race. Only Jaevid, Felix, and their
trusted friends are able to stand in his way. They have only one chance to end
the war, and only one hope to absolve the curse that threatens to destroy their
world. The stage is set. The plan is in motion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">What began as one boy’s adventure will
now end in blood.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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PART ONE
<br />
<br />
FELIX
<br />
<br />
ONE
<br />
<br />
I lost Jaevid and Mavrik in the fray almost immediately.
<br />
<br />
In front of me, my riding partner, Lieutenant Darion Prax, was leaning into his dragon’s speed as we made our final approach. Behind me, a dozen more riders were following us in. Below me, the city of Barrowton boiled with the fury of battle. Our lines of infantry were broken, but trying to reform. The gray elves fought like savages, wielding spears, bows, and scimitars. Some of them rode on the backs of jungle monsters, others were zipping around us through the sky on creatures called shrikes. Our natural enemies.
<br />
<br />
Prax gave me a few brisk hand signals, instructing me to move into place and get ready. I twisted my saddle handles slightly, applying a bit of pressure under the saddle. With a few heavy beats of her wings, my dragon caught up with him and flew right underneath him. Nova was a big girl, bigger than most male dragons twice her age. But what she lacked in speed she made up for in other ways—something the gray elves were about to figure out<br />
<br />
first hand.
<br />
<br />
We dropped down lower. Arrows sailed past my helmet. One bounced off my breastplate and gave me a scare. I leaned down closer to Nova’s body for shelter from the hail of fire coming from below. Unlike most of the other dragons, gray elf arrows couldn’t pierce her thick hide.
<br />
<br />
I checked Prax out of the corner of my eye. He was giving me one finger and a closed fist. First target. Time to hit hard. I clenched my teeth and twisted the saddle handles, giving Nova the signal.
<br />
<br />
<br />
Prax and I dove as one, our dragons spiraling in unison towards the ground. We pulled out of the dive flying side-by-side, barely a hundred feet off the ground behind the enemy lines. I squeezed Nova’s sides with my boot heels, and I felt her take in a deep breath.
<br />
<br />
Together, our dragons showered the ground with a storm of their burning venom.
<br />
<br />
Gray elf warriors screamed. They fired at us with everything they had. But our rain of fire didn’t end until Nova had to stop for another breath.
<br />
<br />
We broke skyward and began preparing to make another coordinated pass.
<br />
<br />
But the second time wouldn’t be so easy. The trail of flames and burning corpses we’d left behind had gotten the attention of a few warriors on shrikes. I spotted four of them heading straight for us.
<br />
<br />
I gave Prax the news—we had company.
<br />
<br />
He quickly replied with a plan.
<br />
<br />
I was slower, so I was bound to be their first target. But that was fine; I was ready.
<br />
<br />
When his volley of arrows failed, the first gray elf rider had his shrike attack us outright. The bizarre creature was like a furious mirage of mirrored glass scales. It wrapped around Nova’s neck and started clawing at her eyes. Nova roared and slung her head back and forth. The shrike’s rider was twisting in his saddle, drawing another arrow that was aimed right at me.
<br />
<br />
“Better make that shot count,” I yelled and drew my sword.
<br />
<br />
Suddenly, Prax blurred past us.
<br />
<br />
There was a crunching sound and a shrike’s yelp of pain as his dragon got a tasty mouthful of the monster. I saw the gray elf rider fall from the saddle and begin to plummet toward the ground. A very small part of me felt bad for him. The rest of me still remembered he’d just tried to kill me.
<br />
<br />
Another shrike hit Nova. Then another. One was wrapped around her head again while the other hit much closer to the saddle—closer to me—right at the base of her tail. I twisted the one saddle handle I was still hanging onto and Nova pitched into a violent roll. She spun, getting faster and faster.
<br />
<br />
The shrike on her head lost his grip. He flew backwards, bouncing along her body and whooshing past me. One well aimed thrust of my sword made sure he wouldn’t be coming back around for a second try.
<br />
<br />
The last shrike and rider were a problem, though. She was trying to cut my saddle straps. Clever. Effective, too, if she managed it.
<br />
<br />
But I wasn’t about to give her that chance.
<br />
<br />
I sheathed my sword and twisted the handles again, hanging on for dear life. Nova snapped her wings in tight against her body and dropped from the sky like a giant, scaly stone. The further we fell, the faster we went. The wind howled past my helmet. The ground was getting closer and closer.
<br />
<br />
I bit back a curse and looked back. It was working. The shrike was losing his grip, sliding further away from me down Nova’s tail.
<br />
<br />
I squeezed my heels against her ribs.
<br />
<br />
Nova spat a burst of flame directly in front of us, and I hunkered down against her as she wrapped her wings around herself. Everything went dark. I could smell the acrid venom in the air. It made my eyes sting. I could feel the heat of the flames as I panted for breath.
<br />
<br />
Dragon venom is funny stuff. It’s sticky like sap and highly acidic. It’ll burn through just about anything—except a dragon’s own hide.
<br />
<br />
Nova flew through her own burst of flames, shielding me with her wings. When we came out the other side, she flared her wings wide and caught the air like a kite. Below us, a shrike-shaped fireball crashed into the ground.
<br />
<br />
Prax appeared next to us, giving me hand signals again. You okay?
<br />
<br />
I gave him a thumb’s up.
<br />
<br />
Good. Time for another pass.
<br />
<br />
*****
<br />
<br />
The battle was over.
<br />
<br />
The shouting voices and clashing blades had gone quiet. Now, there was only the crackling of the flames still smoldering in what was left of Barrowton. It was a wasteland – barely more than a charred crater littered with the bodies of the fallen.
<br />
<br />
Yet another ugly scar on Maldobar’s landscape.
<br />
<br />
We’d only just gotten back to the citadel at Northwatch—our little slice of paradise where the forces assigned to protecting the northern border were housed. Group after group of dragons and their riders continued to land on the platform and file into the tower. One hundred proud warriors had left to retake the city only a few days before. Less than forty of us returned.
<br />
<br />
Still, I was only looking for one.
<br />
<br />
“Where is he? Does anyone see him?!” I shouted at the top of my lungs and shoved my way through the other dragonriders. I called his name over and over, hoping to spot him or his blue dragon making their way down the corridor ahead of me. They must have fallen behind.
<br />
<br />
I searched every bloodied, war-beaten face that came walking in from the rain. Before I knew it, I was standing back at the open gateway that led out onto the platform.
<br />
<br />
Jaevid Broadfeather was nowhere to be found.
<br />
<br />
Someone grabbed my shoulder. A bolt of hope shot through me as I spun around, hoping to see him standing there.
<br />
<br />
It wasn’t him.
<br />
<br />
It was my riding partner, Lieutenant Prax, standing over me like a giant in blood-spattered battle armor. He was much older than I was and a far more seasoned rider. That’s why the look on his face absolutely terrified me.
<br />
<br />
“No one saw him or Jace depart with us.”
<br />
<br />
I was instantly sick. I couldn’t accept that. Jaevid wouldn’t just roll over and die—not this easily. We’d made it this far, gone through all of our dragonrider training together from beginning to end – so I knew he could fight. Sure, I’d teased him plenty about sucking at hand-to-hand combat, but I’d never met anyone faster or better with a blade. He was half gray elf, for crying out loud. Granted, he hid it well, but I knew he had that elven killer instinct buried down deep in his soul. I’d seen it surface once or twice before when someone pushed him too far.
<br />
<br />
I had to believe he was here somewhere. I just hadn’t found him yet.
<br />
<br />
I turned around with every intention of standing out on the platform in the driving rain until I saw him land. Boy, was he in for it. That little jerk should have known better than to pull a stunt like this after our first battle, the one time I hadn’t been standing right next to him while we did something ridiculously dangerous to make sure he didn’t get killed.
<br />
<br />
Prax grabbed my arm to stop me. There was no shaking off his grip. “We can’t go out there. They want the platform clear for the riders still landing. We’ll have to wait in the stable.”
<br />
<br />
I stole another glance out of the gateway. The skies were choked with rumbling black storm clouds and the rain was falling hard enough to obscure the city below. Every couple of minutes, the ominous, dark shape of a dragon appeared through the gloom, wings spread wide and legs outstretched to stick the landing. As they landed, infantrymen rushed out to help the riders dismount and escort them inside. Some of them had to be carried because of their injuries. Their cries of pain were drowned out by the sound of the thunder.
<br />
<br />
“Come on.” Prax shook me a little to break my trance. “You need to look after your lady. Then I’ll wait with you back at his stall.”
<br />
<br />
I didn’t like it. I wanted to be standing right here when Jae finally dared to show his face after making me stress out like this. But Prax was right. My dragon, Nova, was still dressed in her saddle and I needed to get her settled in before I did anything else.
<br />
<br />
The work was distracting. It kept me from staring at the gateway every single second while I unbuckled her saddle strap-by-strap and checked her over for injuries. Thankfully, she was unharmed. Her scales really were as strong as iron plates. And judging by a few nicks and scrapes I found around her chest and neck, that trait had saved her life more than once.
<br />
<br />
Once she was fed and nestled into a bed of hay for the night, I closed the door to her stall and immediately made a break for the platform. I had every intention of waiting there again. I didn’t make it there, though.
<br />
<br />
Everyone was waiting on me. The other surviving riders in Emerald Flight had gathered outside Nova’s stall.
<br />
<br />
“They still haven’t come back yet?” I looked at Prax, expecting an answer.
<br />
<br />
He didn’t have to give a verbal one. Once again, his expression said it all. Jaevid and his senior partner, Lieutenant Jace Rordin, still hadn’t returned.
<br />
<br />
So we waited.
<br />
<br />
Sitting outside Jaevid’s empty dragon stall, we watched the rest of our dragonrider brothers tending to their mounts like I had. It wasn’t looking good. The elves had made an impressive stand at Barrowton and our ranks had taken a beating. Less than half of us had returned and many of those were wounded or grounded because their mount had been injured. The riders landing now were barely able to limp in out of the rain. Some of them even had to be carried.
I watched one rider who had to be dragged off the platform by the infantrymen. He was shouting like a madman, still crazed from battle. I couldn’t figure out what he was saying or why he was so upset until a big group of soldiers rushed past us to help restrain him. Then I heard why.
<br />
<br />
His dragon had managed to carry him back safely to the tower, but the creature had died on the platform shortly after.
<br />
<br />
The rider’s grief-stricken screams mingled with the constant rush of the rain. It was a sound I’d never forget.
<br />
<br />
I couldn’t watch anymore after that. I leaned against the stall door with my eyes closed, trying not to think about or imagine anything. Then, infantrymen rolled the iron grate down over the passage that led out onto the platform. It made an awful clanging sound.
<br />
<br />
That was it. The last of us who survived the battle had landed.
<br />
<br />
It was over. We all knew it, and yet none of us wanted to be the first to get up and leave.
<br />
<br />
It didn’t feel real. I didn’t want to believe it was. There had to be some kind of mistake. He was going to pull off another miracle, come wandering in with that weird, self-conscious smile on his face and start apologizing—he had to. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
<br />
<br />
“Jace was set on going head- to- head with that gray elf princess again.” Someone finally spoke up and broke the heavy silence. “He must’ve dragged Jaevid into it, too. Poor kid wouldn’t stand a chance in a skirmish like that.”
<br />
<br />
I pushed away from the door and started walking away. I didn’t want to hear this. I didn’t care how he died. He was gone. The how didn’t matter.
<br />
<br />
I thought I managed to get away without any of them following me. But I should’ve known better than to think Prax would let me go. I heard his heavy footsteps and the clinking of his armor as he fell in right behind me.
<br />
<br />
He waited until we were well away from the others, standing just inside the stairwell that spanned the full height of the fifty-story tower, to catch me by the shoulder. “I’m sorry, boy.”
<br />
<br />
“Sorry won’t bring my best friend back from the dead. Sorry never did anyone any good. It’s a waste of everyone’s time,” I snapped.
<br />
<br />
He let me go. I could see sympathy in his eyes as he stared down at me. It pissed me off. For a few seconds, neither of us said a word. Then he shook his head. “We’ve all lost someone today, Felix. Every last one of us. So go do whatever you have to do. Work it out. Then clean up your armor and get ready again. You and I are some of the few who are still battle-ready.”
<br />
<br />
I already felt like a total failure for letting my best friend down. I’d let him die alone in battle. And now I felt worse knowing I’d offended Prax, although there wasn’t a lot I wanted to do about it right now. All I knew was that my insides hurt. I couldn’t think beyond the rage that was burning in my body like hellfire. I could practically taste the flames crackling over my tongue. I needed a way to let it out.
<br />
<br />
****
<br />
<br />
Three days. That’s how long it took Prax to resurface and try talking to me again.
<br />
<br />
I knew he’d be coming. I was already on borrowed time. At any given moment, orders could come down and I’d be sent back to the battlefront somewhere to kill more elves in the name of peace and justice. A bunch of crap, really. Neither existed in my world.
<br />
<br />
My knuckles were bleeding through the strips of bandages I’d wrapped them in. It probably had something to do with me facing off with a sparring bag every day at dawn, pounding at it with all my strength until I was too weak to stand. I didn’t stop to eat and sleeping was totally out of the question so I didn’t even bother trying.
<br />
<br />
Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. I was asking myself a lot of hard questions while whaling against the sand-filled training bag, and most of those questions I no longer had an answer for.
<br />
<br />
Why was I here? Punch. What was this all for? Punch. Could I even justify not being at my estate now? Punch.
<br />
<br />
“Felix.” Prax’s voice interrupted the rhythm of my internal interrogation.
<br />
<br />
I stopped and let my arms drop. They were so numb I couldn’t even feel my fingers anymore. I turned around, wiping away the sweat that was dripping into my eyes.
<br />
<br />
I expected to see Prax there, giving me one of those cautious, sympathetic gazes. But I hadn’t expected to see the guy next to him. I didn’t know him. Rather, I’d never laid eyes on him before. But I knew right away who he must be.
<br />
<br />
Jae had never been all that chatty when it came to his family. I could sympathize. My own family life hadn’t been great, but it didn’t hold a candle to what I suspected Jae had put up with.
<br />
<br />
When we’d first met, he looked like a pulverized, half-starved puppy. Some of the other guys training with us liked to pick on him because he was one heck of an easy target—but they weren’t the cause of all those bruises. Some of those marks had been older. Much older. He’d gotten them long before he’d darkened the door of the dragonrider academy. So I went out of my way to ask Sile about them. Needless to say, the answer had been unsavory.
<br />
<br />
My father had never beaten me, even when I probably deserved it. He didn’t have the strength or the audacity. He popped me across the cheek a few times for mouthing off, sure, but that was more embarrassing than anything else.
<br />
<br />
Jae, though? He probably weighed eighty pounds soaking wet when we first met. And that father of his had been beating him mercilessly for years, according to Sile.
<br />
<br />
Now I was looking at the one person who should have stuck up for the little guy whenever his dad decided to use him like a doormat. I knew this had to be his older brother. The family resemblance was strong, even if this guy wasn’t a half elf like Jae. Same piercing eyes. Same strong jawline.
<br />
<br />
“Roland, I presume?” I glanced him up and down. He was taller than me, unsurprisingly. Chalk that up to yet another Broadfeather family trait. “You look like hell.”
<br />
<br />
It wasn’t an insult. He really did look awful. His right arm was sealed in a plaster cast all the way up to his shoulder and he had bloody bandages wrapped around a wound on his head. He was obviously one of the lucky infantrymen who made it back to the citadel from Barrowton—the uniform tipped me off. Except for the stubble on his chin, he looked so much like Jae it would make anyone stop and take a second look. Granted, this guy had a lot more muscle to throw around, but he had the same piercing eyes, squared jaw, and high cheekbones.
<br />
<br />
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” He was looking at me cautiously. I suspected being in the dragonrider quarters was making him uneasy. Infantrymen weren’t supposed to be up here.
<br />
<br />
“We haven’t,” I replied. I left it at that, hoping Prax would take the hint that I wasn’t really up for a heart-to-heart discussion with this guy.
<br />
<br />
I walked past them to a corner of the sparring room where I’d stashed a few of my things, including a towel to wipe myself off with. I could hear them both following me.
<br />
<br />
“Colonel Bragg has issued his official statement. Medics swept the battlefield at Barrowton looking for any remaining survivors and taking record of the dead,” Prax spoke up.
<br />
<br />
I stopped. All the little prickly hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “And?”
<br />
<br />
“They never found his body—or Jace’s for that matter. But his dragon was sighted in the area with an empty saddle,” he answered quietly. “Some of the other riders report having seen them engaging the gray elf princess in aerial combat. They saw her shoot Jace’s mount down. Jaevid was right on his tail, so . . . we can only assume . . .”
<br />
<br />
“—That he’s dead. Yep. Thanks. Figured that much out on my own, you know, when he didn’t come back.” I scowled at them both, hoping it would be enough to stop this conversation from going any further.
<br />
<br />
It wasn’t.
<br />
<br />
Prax turned his attention to the silent infantryman standing next to him. “We cleaned out their room. There wasn’t much left behind, but Jae’s brother here insisted you should have it.”
<br />
<br />
That’s when I noticed Roland was holding something. It was a mostly empty burlap sack. He held it out to me with a tense expression. “They tell me you two were close.”
<br />
<br />
I didn’t want to take it. Just the thought of seeing what was in there made me start to feel nauseated all over again. “Shouldn’t this be given to his family?”
<br />
<br />
“That’s why I’m giving it to you.” Roland fixed his gaze right on me. “I know how you must feel about me. And you’re right to despise me. I can only imagine the things Jaevid told you about me let alone the rest of our family. I won’t deny any of it. But I never laid a hand on him. Not even once.”
<br />
<br />
I snatched the bag away from him. “Some might argue that joining in and just standing by and watching it happen are basically the same thing.”
<br />
<br />
Roland hesitated. Slowly, his eyes moved down until he was staring at the floor. “We were both trapped in that house, both suffering at the hands of the same man. Jaevid never knew how many beatings I took for him, how many nights I would sleep by my bedroom door so I’d hear if Ulric went outside after him. My every waking thought was about how I could get out of there. But I couldn’t just run away and leave Jaevid there alone. I would have never done that to him. So I waited until Ulric came back from Blybrig and told us he’d been adopted by the dragonriders. Then I left.”
<br />
<br />
An uncomfortable silence settled over us. I’m sure Prax was learning a lot more about the Broadfeather family than he ever cared to. After a few seconds I cleared my throat, crammed the bag of Jae’s belongings under the rest of my gear, and nodded. “Actually, he didn’t talk about his family life much.”
<br />
<br />
“I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me,” Roland sighed. “I just thought, since you were closest with him, you ought to have what was left of his things. He’d probably want it that way. And considering the circumstances, I wanted to thank you in person.”
<br />
<br />
“Thank me?”
<br />
<br />
“Yes. I’m not trying to be condescending. But I am grateful that you were willing to step in and befriend him. Someone of your social standing—”
<br />
<br />
I stopped him right there. “That never had anything to do with it. It wasn’t charity.”
<br />
<br />
He nodded. “I understand. I’m just saying that there aren’t many others who would be willing to jeopardize their reputation. You’re a better man than most. And I want you to know I appreciate that.”
<br />
<br />
“Ah.” This was beginning to make me really uncomfortable. I began picking up my stuff and planning a quick exit.
<br />
<br />
“I also wanted to ask if there was anyone else we should inform,” Roland added, as I slung my bag of gear over my shoulder. “Did he ever mention having a lover?”
<br />
<br />
Once again, my body locked up involuntarily. I hadn’t even thought about her. Did she know? Who was I kidding . . . of course she didn’t know. I cursed under my breath and flashed Prax a telling glance. Someone was going to have to tell Beckah Derrick what had happened.
<br />
<br />
“I’m willing to do it,” Roland offered. I guess he could read my expressions well enough to tell what I was thinking.
<br />
<br />
I clenched my teeth. “No. I’ll do it. She should hear it from me. I’m the one she’ll blame.”
<br />
<br />
The trouble was, I didn’t know how I was going to find her. Beckah lurked on the edge of every battlefield, haunting our blind spots like some kind of avenging angel. To my knowledge, she’d been keeping her distance from the riders otherwise, which was smart since she was playing a dangerous game. Being the only female dragonrider wasn’t something to be proud of. It might earn her the hangman’s noose or the business end of a sword if anyone found out her real identity.
<br />
<br />
If anyone could actually catch her, that is. Being paired up with a king drake, the biggest and baddest of all the dragons in Maldobar, put her at a big advantage over the rest of us.
<br />
<br />
I had my work cut out for me. As soon as I managed to shake off the pity brigade, I headed straight for my room and started thinking of ways to get in contact with her. I didn’t know where she was hiding out between battles, though. Jae might have known, but if they had a secret lovey-dovey rendezvous spot, he’d never spoken a word about it to me. That sneaky devil.
<br />
<br />
I decided to look for clues when I got back to my room. I dumped out the burlap sack of his belongings onto my bed and began to look through them. There wasn’t much. It was mostly spare uniform pieces and a few bundles of letters tied together with twine. I hesitated to go through those because that kind of stuff was probably pretty personal. What right did I have to go digging around in his private life?
<br />
<br />
Then again, what did it matter now? And one of those letters might contain a clue about how to get in touch with Beckah.
<br />
<br />
Hesitantly, I untied one of the bundles and opened up a few of the letters. None of them were helpful, really, and going through them gave me an eerie feeling. It just felt wrong.
<br />
<br />
Finally, I came to one that looked like it hadn’t been opened in a while. The address scribbled across the front said it was from Saltmarsh, a town down on the southern coast. I’d never been there, never had a reason to. It was a port city, home to mostly fisherman and hired hands looking for shifts on the merchant ships that came and went from the harbor.
<br />
<br />
Seeing that address struck a chord in my memory. Jae had mentioned to me before that Beckah and the rest of her family lived there. He’d visited them before the start of our avian year. When I opened up the letter, I found only one line scribbled inside. There wasn’t a signature, either. Just two initials:
<br />
<br />
— B. D.
<br />
<br />
They had to be Beckah’s.
<br />
<br />
I knew she wouldn’t be there. It was a long flight between Saltmarsh and Northwatch, too long for her to be going back and forth every time there was a battle. Heck, I couldn’t even be sure her family still lived at that address, either. Sile struck me as kind of a shady character, like he had something to hide. He might just pick up and leave without saying anything. But this was the best lead I had. I was going to have to start there and hope for the best.
<br />
<br />
I lit a candle and took out a few sheets of fresh paper. I wrote three letters. The first one was to Sile Derrick, letting him know what happened and where he could find me. The second one was to my commanding officer, Colonel Bragg, who was in charge of all the dragonriders here at the citadel.
<br />
<br />
And the last one . . . was to my mom.
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RYhriEBsKjI/V9mZrpXSv7I/AAAAAAAATQo/aAadXITH6iA82vVRnO47oF3uX7pJsw9VwCLcB/s1600/Nicole%2BConway.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RYhriEBsKjI/V9mZrpXSv7I/AAAAAAAATQo/aAadXITH6iA82vVRnO47oF3uX7pJsw9VwCLcB/s1600/Nicole%2BConway.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">About Nicole: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Nicole is the author of the children’s
fantasy series, THE DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES, about a young boy’s journey into
manhood as he trains to become a dragonrider. Originally from a small town in
North Alabama, Nicole moves frequently due to her husband’s<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">career as a pilot for the United States
Air Force. She received a B.A. in English from Auburn University, and will soon
attend graduate school. She has previously worked as a freelance and graphic
artist for promotional companies, but has now embraced writing as a full-time<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">occupation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Nicole enjoys hiking, camping, shopping,
cooking, and spending time with her family and friends. She lives at home with
her husband, two cats, and dog.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://anconway422.wixsite.com/authornicoleconway">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/ANConway">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/JaevidDragonriderChronicles">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://instagram.com/authornicoleconway/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/anconway/">Pinterest</a> | <a href="http://nicoleconway422.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6498865.Nicole_Conway">Goodreads</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tzK7MPXB-Yo/V9mZwbzUFuI/AAAAAAAATQs/ZZR6mAjVSDcfHvKKJRZeAuOZjKRwFY3YgCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tzK7MPXB-Yo/V9mZwbzUFuI/AAAAAAAATQs/ZZR6mAjVSDcfHvKKJRZeAuOZjKRwFY3YgCLcB/s320/Giveaway.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">3 winners will receive the complete
series (in eBook format) of the DRAGONRIDERS CHRONICLES including an eGalley of
IMMORTAL. International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2484" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2484/" id="rcwidget_xn4lr45r" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-28367022244667970662016-08-26T00:00:00.000-06:002016-08-26T00:00:15.998-06:00Charity Anthology from #Month9Books cover reveal & excerpts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xHzt-h2lcWQ/V73iQkY5VyI/AAAAAAAATDY/ZFj3OzPsbwozWVZBZ0_34iEAbjqSXBiIACLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xHzt-h2lcWQ/V73iQkY5VyI/AAAAAAAATDY/ZFj3OzPsbwozWVZBZ0_34iEAbjqSXBiIACLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Today Month9Books is revealing the cover
and some excerpts for their Charity Anthology IN THE BEGINNING! Which releases October
25, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers
to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">On to the reveal!</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-06jPHIpNE7U/V73iTmEPiYI/AAAAAAAATDc/wHXwdTmR9Q4zXZrv0eNPxC-UmxQ0GNwlwCLcB/s1600/In%2BThe%2BBeginning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-06jPHIpNE7U/V73iTmEPiYI/AAAAAAAATDc/wHXwdTmR9Q4zXZrv0eNPxC-UmxQ0GNwlwCLcB/s640/In%2BThe%2BBeginning.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Title:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> IN
THE BEGINNING: Dark Retellings of Biblical Tales<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Editors:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Laureen P. Cantwell and Georgia McBride</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Author:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Stephen Clements, Nicole Crucial, Mike Hays, Sharon
Hughson, Marti Johnson, Elle O'Neill, Lora Palmer, & Christina Raus<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> October 25, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Format:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Paperback & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Find it:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/2bO92eI"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Amazon</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-the-beginning-laureen-p-cantwell/1124443366?ean=9781939765741"><span style="line-height: 107%;">B&N</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"> |</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25946627-in-the-beginning"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">In the Beginning (Oct. 25, 2016) –Eight authors
come together to build a powerful collection of dark young adult short stories
inspired by the mysteries, faith, and darkness found within the Bible. Old Testament
and New Testament, iconic and obscure figures alike are illuminated, explored,
and re-envisioned throughout this charity anthology from Month9Books. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">IN THE BEGINNING, edited by Laureen
Cantwell and Georgia McBride<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Daniel and the Dragon by Stephen Clements<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">A troubled orphan named Habakkuk
dutifully follows his master, the prophet Daniel, into temples of blood-thirsty
demon-gods, battles with unspeakable horrors, and bears witnesses to
mind-breaking evil until his master's zealous defiance of the king's law seals
their fate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Babylon by Nicole Crucial<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Far above the earth, in Second Eden,
where moments and eternities all blur together, young Babylon befriends Sefer,
the Book of Life. As Babylon awaits the moment she'll fulfill her destiny, she
and Sefer try to understand the world in which they live.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Last Will and Testament by Mike Hays<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">A homeless young boy, Baz, bears the
weight of humanity on his shoulders and upon his body. When dark forces test a
new-found friendship, Baz’s willingness to bear the ugliness of their world
will be shaken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The Demon Was Me by Sharon Hughson<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Based on the story of the
demon-possessed boy healed by Jesus, this tale provides a glimpse into a
post-apocalyptic world where a teenage boy seeks to journey to a better land
and yearns to discover the kind of man he's meant to be, only to be hijacked by
an evil spirit intent upon chipping away at the hope, faith, and resilience of
its host.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The Deluge by Marti Johnson<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">A non-believer shares the story of
Noah’s ark-building and the deadly downpour that follows. Fear, faithlessness,
and the fallibility of mankind collide in a community where second chances
aren’t unlimited and a better-late-than-never attitude just might be your doom.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Condemned by Elle O'Neill<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Just sixteen-years-old, Barabbas finds
himself pulled out of Routlege Academy and into a reality show
competition—against Jesus himself—where the reward for the winner is life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">First Wife by Lora Palmer<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">In a first-person retelling of the saga
of Jacob, Rachel and Leah, themes of family, deception, guilt, and heartache
emerge amidst the first days of Leah’s marriage to Jacob—a marriage mired in
trickery a mere week before Jacob was to marry Leah's sister Rachel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Emmaculate by Christina Raus<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Based on the story of Mary's Immaculate
Conception, we enter the troubled mind of Emma, who finds herself torn between
her religious upbringing and the purity ring that binds her to her boyfriend
and the pregnancy that results from her relationship with another boy.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anthology Excerpts:</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From THE DEMON WAS ME, by Sharon Hughson:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The ghastly black fog overtook me.
Icicles pierced my back. Every muscle in my body spasmed. I plunged face-first
against the ground. Something sharp gouged my cheek. Shivery tingles pervaded
my insides. A vile presence pressed against my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">“Get out!” I rolled to my back, arms
outstretched. I wanted to fight, throw the intruder off me. But how can you
resist something as ethereal as air?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Laughter rang in my ears. Sinister.
It shuddered against my soul. Terror and hopelessness collided in my chest. A
foreign power clutched at my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I screamed. I rolled to my side and
squeezed my eyes shut. If only I could disappear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Another dark wave of laughter
echoed through my skull. Convulsions gripped me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Against my will, my limbs flailed in
every direction. A spike pressed into my mind. I cradled my throbbing head. My
body, a tumbleweed in the wind, spun on the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From BABYLON, by Nicole Crucial:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Only those will enter Heaven whose names
are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">These were the first words I heard, in
the beginning of time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">But Sefer, the protest comes, Revelation
wasn’t written until the first century.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">My answer is that time is a funny little
plaything to God, or so I imagine. That first sentence was the wind that
breathed life into my chest, the binding of my pages, the ink in my soul. It
knitted together my stardust-atoms from across centuries and millennia and
planes of existence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">And when the first dregs of
consciousness swirled at the pit-bottom of my spine, I yawned and opened my
eyes to paradise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From CONDEMNED, by Elle O’Neill:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">To his surprise, as he heard the metal
door grind to a stop, there was a popping sound, like the flash-lamp did when
they experimented in Classic Photography at Routlege. Except no camera
appeared—not that he could see anyway—but rather a digital time clock, bold red
numbers, already beginning their descent, in striking relief against the black
paint covering the walls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">29:48:12.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">29:48:11.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Of course they would include the
fractions of a second, he thought. He was now fighting a tiger against a racing
clock. For all that they were merely numbers, he saw their dwindling trickle as
if he were watching grains of sand pour through the hourglass of his fingers,
helpless. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">29:47:03.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The tiger looked at him. It didn't
glance his way. It directed its massive head at him, its eyes trained on
Barabbas ... and they didn't turn away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Another man, in another arena, stood
calmly while the tiger advanced. His breathing was even, he did not watch the
clock, and he looked with love upon the prowling beast. When it snarled, he
slowly exhaled; when its whiskers glanced his weaponless fingers, he blinked
gently as the hot breath of the tiger dampened his skin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From LAST WILL & TESTAMENT, by Mike Hays:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I’ve found money, I’ve found food, and
I’ve found myself in plenty of trouble on plenty of occasions, but I’ve never
found another human being just lying around. That’s what happened when I found
a person-shaped ball of olive drab and camouflage clothing—which would have
been more at home in the reject pile down at the army surplus store—under our
decrepit, worn sign for the, “Extraordinary </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">League of Witch Assass_ _ _.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">It’s true. I found a boy about my age
sleeping at the end of the Extraordinary League of Witch Assassins driveway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From UNWANTED, by Lora Palmer:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">“Let me see you,” he whispers. “Let me
truly see you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I swallow down the fear this moment
brings, the anxiety that once he does see me, he will no longer accept me. No,
I must stop thinking this way. My husband is not like Jacob, dazzled by the
superficial beauty of my sister. My husband, my love, will see me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Taking courage from this, I let out a
shaky laugh as he helps me stand. I long to see him, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">“All right,” I say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">He lifts my veil, his deft fingers
moving slow, relishing the anticipation of this moment. At last, he lifts the
linen over my face and lets it slip to the floor behind me. We stare at each
other, stock still, in stunned silence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">It was Jacob.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From EMMACULATE, by Christina Raus:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The Ten Commandments are pretty
straightforward. Killing? Bad. Lying? Nope. Adultery? Don’t even think about
it. But is real life really that straightforward? If you tell your boyfriend
that you’re going golfing, when really you’re going out to cheat on him, is the
lying or the adultery worse? What if you stab the guy you’re having an affair
with? Isn’t being a murderer worse than being a cheater? I think the stabbing
is worse than the lying and the cheating combined. So, it was kind of unfair
for God to group killing, lying, and cheating all together under one umbrella.
They all seemed really different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I was an adulterer. I couldn’t deny
that. I was also a liar. A very, very good liar. But I wasn’t a murderer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From THE DELUGE, by Marti Johnson:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">The stench of mildew and mold is heavy
in our nostrils, and my lungs feel as though they are on fire. My breathing is
audible in the lulls between the thunderclaps. My mother huddles, shivering,
propped between two rocks. She is coughing painfully, and I can hear her teeth
chattering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">It is hard to breathe because the air
itself is full of water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">A deeper shadow has fallen across the side
of the mountain on which we are sheltering. I pull aside the brambles, and gasp
in amazement when I realize what it is. “Look!” I call to the others, and point
at the sight. The ark has risen with the water, and now bobs up and down. It
sits high in the water. We hear nothing from it but the creaking of the wood
timbers and the sound of the branches and rocks on the hillside scraping
against its hull.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">From DANIEL AND THE DRAGON, by Stephen Clements:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Your god is a liar!” roared the wizened
man in thin black robes, as he pounded his breast with his fist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Habakkuk stood by the gates of the
temple as his master picked a fight with a sanctuary full of the slavish
followers of Bel, a bloodthirsty demon god. A fire raged in the fanged maw of a
giant, stone head sunken into the back of the temple, there to receive the
offerings rendered unto Bel. He had seen this before in other temple raids with
his master, though not on such a massive scale, and not at the heart of the
demon cult in Babylon itself. The fire raged as the greatest offering that the
Babylonians—who adored Bel above all other gods—could sacrifice to their deity
was their own newborn children, rolled their screaming, helpless bodies down a
stone, handshaped altar into the fire. They offered the fruit of their wombs to
their dark god, who devoured the innocent souls sacrificed to him in eldritch
rituals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eH1iqkDavjQ/V73iWn5GMhI/AAAAAAAATDg/ufx8D5ik8KMErj76yHKqchydJjrynk7WQCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eH1iqkDavjQ/V73iWn5GMhI/AAAAAAAATDg/ufx8D5ik8KMErj76yHKqchydJjrynk7WQCLcB/s400/Giveaway.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">3 winners will receive an eGalley of IN
THE BEGINNING, International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2476" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2476/" id="rcwidget_kba3zaz4" rel="nofollow"><span style="font-size: large;">a Rafflecopter giveaway</span></a>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-32013939029213348452016-07-22T00:00:00.000-06:002016-07-22T00:00:13.244-06:00Trailer reveal for Polaris by Beth Bowland #ya #sci-fi #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34B2jHD6QfU/V4-21rTCG4I/AAAAAAAASuY/QnOXryt9hrofwbK82YhC_r6tL8N6mFXYwCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-34B2jHD6QfU/V4-21rTCG4I/AAAAAAAASuY/QnOXryt9hrofwbK82YhC_r6tL8N6mFXYwCLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">Today Beth Bowland and Month9Books are
revealing the trailer for POLARIS, which releases August 16, 2016! Check out
the gorgeous trailer and enter to win a paperback of the book!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="line-height: 107%;">A quick note from the author:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />
When I first watched the trailer I was in awe, tears formed in my eyes, and I
was frozen in my seat. I tried to say “OMG”, but only the “O” came out and “MG”
got stuck, because at that moment I watched as my story literally took a breath
and came to life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 107%;">I had such a great time writing Polaris, it
combined my love for creating stories and conspiracy theories. I love “What
Ifs” What if there is life on other planets? What if they’re really not so
different than we are? The big ticket question, what if they’re already among
us. Polaris takes a quirky but fun spin on an old conspiracy theory, but what
if the conspiracy is not a theory…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">On to the reveal! </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2fyJ5XA8kbI" width="560"></iframe>
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ODZxMc_wIw/V4-282lBl4I/AAAAAAAASuk/hf-F4q_bWsYGdrcJfCacW4GMqWP_-2JegCEw/s1600/Polaris_1800x2700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ODZxMc_wIw/V4-282lBl4I/AAAAAAAASuk/hf-F4q_bWsYGdrcJfCacW4GMqWP_-2JegCEw/s640/Polaris_1800x2700.jpg" width="425" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Title:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> POLARIS<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Author:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Beth
Bowland<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> August 16, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Tantrum Books<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Format:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Paperback,
eBook<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Find it: </span></b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29363136-polaris"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Polaris-Beth-Bowland/dp/1944816690/ref=sr_1_1_twi_pap_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1459301169&sr=8-1&keywords=polaris+by+beth+bowland"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Amazon</span></a> | <a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Polaris/Beth-Bowland/Q267685717?id=6340331108378">BAM</a> | <a href="https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/polaris/9781944816698-item.html?ikwid=polaris+by+beth+bowland&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=0">Chapters</a> |<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Beth_Bowland_Polaris?id=t62lCwAAQBAJ&hl=en">Google Play</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/polaris-beth-bowland/1123486110?ean=9781944816698">B&N</a> | <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/polaris-17">Kobo</a> | <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Polaris-Beth-Bowland/9781944816698?ref=grid-view">TBD</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/polaris/id1088486820?mt=11">iBooks</a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">Bixie, Montana is in the middle of
nowhere, not connected to any place, and not needed to get to any destination.
But one snowy evening, a lone visitor walking down an old country road changes
thirteen-year-old Aaron Martin’s life forever. Aaron thinks he’s being a Good
Samaritan by inviting the nearly-frozen visitor into his home, but he’s
unwittingly initiated “The Game.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">A group of Elders, known as the Council
of the Legend, come together from time to time to enjoy a rousing event they
playfully call “The Game.” Now, Aaron’s town is the playing board and he and
his fellow townspeople are the players.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">The rules are simple. Win. Because if
Aaron loses, he won’t just lose his family. He’ll lose his very identity.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">Beth Bowland, a native Ohioan, has
always enjoyed reading and creating stories of her own. As a child she devoured
every book she could get her hands on and spent numerous hours at the library
each week. She loves writing stories for tweens and young teens and her
characters are often described as quirky and fun, but always relatable. When
she’s not writing, she loves watching HGTV. She has one daughter and resides in
Arlington, Texas with her husband, Phillip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.bethbowland.com/" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Website</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"> | </span><a href="http://bethbowland.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Blog</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"> | </span><a href="http://twitter.com/bethbowland" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Twitter</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"> | </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/BethBowlandAuthor" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Facebook</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"> | </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6535551.Beth_Bowland" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">1 winner will receive a paperback of
POLARIS, US Only.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-50921381639183151552016-07-01T00:00:00.000-06:002016-07-01T00:00:29.504-06:00Cover reveal and first chapter - Clanless by Jennifer Jenkins #fantasy #ya<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Jennifer Jenkins and Month9Books
are revealing the cover and first chapter for CLANLESS, book 2 in the NAMELESS Series
which releases October 4, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be
one of the first readers to receive a paperback of NAMELESS or an eGalley of
CLANLESS!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Clanless is Gryphon's story in the way Nameless
was Zo's. It encompasses the struggle of self discovery and taking the hard
road to find happiness. At its heart though, this book is a love story, with
two people determined to fight overwhelming odds, even death, to be together.
Clanless provides readers a view of the world outside Ram's Gate, exploring
both the Raven and Kodiak Clans in more depth.
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I LOVE THIS COVER. I love the way Gryphon is
depicted and the symbolism of of the white background in contrast to the black
of the Nameless cover. I personally think the series only gets better with
every book, and I hope readers agree.</span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On to the reveal! </span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UldtCC3Fx6k/V3QU_dvNogI/AAAAAAAASiI/iaq4Hvti89QWwAF7t-1wSopbOVcM9MgXQCLcB/s1600/Clanless%2BFINAL%2BeBook%2BCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UldtCC3Fx6k/V3QU_dvNogI/AAAAAAAASiI/iaq4Hvti89QWwAF7t-1wSopbOVcM9MgXQCLcB/s640/Clanless%2BFINAL%2BeBook%2BCover.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> CLANLESS (Nameless #2)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Jennifer
Jenkins<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> October 4, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/29fsGR8"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/clanless-jennifer-jenkins/1123659531?ean=9781944816551"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">B&N</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
|</span><a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Clanless-Jennifer-Jenkins/9781944816551"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> TBD</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
| </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29771435-clanless"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Striker Gryphon has lost his position of
honor among the Ram, and is now a hunted man. A traitor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Zo, the object of his affection, was
murdered by members of his former clan. To honor her memory, he journeys to the
highly secretive Raven “Nest” to warn strangers of their impending
demise—though it could cost him more than just his pride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">He doesn’t know that Zo is very much
alive and in another part of the region assisting Nameless refugees over a
mountain swarming with wild men known as “Clanless.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">As each struggle to make sense of what
their lives have become, they fight and claw to reach the Allied Camp, their
last hope in bringing peace to the region. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But the road back to one another is
treacherous and uncertain. And freedom will come with a price.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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Gryphon never thought he’d die at the hands of the Ram. Of course, he never thought he’d become a traitor to his clan, either.
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He awaited a likely public execution, sitting in a patch of mud outside the walls of Ram’s Gate, his clan’s stronghold, as rain filtered through the trees overhead. Bristled ropes rubbed raw his bound ankles. Iron manacles secured his wrists behind his back. Gryphon clutched the hidden key to his restraints inside a bloody fist and glared at a man he never thought he’d call an enemy.
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Zander, Gryphon’s captain, stood at attention as the rain rolled off his brown hair and banked along the harsh angles of his cheekbones and jaw. He held a seven-foot spear like a walking stick, the blunt end buried in the mud at his feet. His short sword was sheathed at his hip, his round shield slung across his back. The perfect Ram warrior, and one of the best swordsmen Gryphon had ever known.
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<br />
The fifteen members of his mess sat like stones in a field, unmoving but hard and very present. Most of Gryphon’s former mess, including his best friend, Ajax, kept their backs to him, as if his treason were contagious. Some slept under thick wool blankets that repelled the rain while others stewed with the restlessness that plagued so many warriors.
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<br />
No one bothered to light a fire. Whether they were too impatient to find something dry enough to burn or felt they deserved the cold, Gryphon didn’t know. Ram were experts at self-discipline—not to be confused with self-control.
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<br />
Inside Ram’s Gate, Gryphon grew up training every day until his body ached. On days he struggled to do everything his leaders asked of him, he would sentence himself to mountain sprints until he literally passed out from exhaustion. Like every other Ram boy, he willingly walked into scheduled yearly beatings that were meant to train his body to block pain, making him nearly invincible on the battlefield.
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A little rain was nothing.
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Sitting cross-legged in the mud with his hands chained behind his back, Gryphon let the rain muffle the sound of his struggle to insert the small key into the unseen lock of his manacles. Each metallic scrap wound his nerves that much tighter. His wrists burned from bending at an awkward angle and his shoulders strained as he struggled to keep his face a mask of indifference.
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Zander watched him, barely blinking. Gryphon needed to distract him—to break his intent focus.
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“Why do you think they haven’t let down the rope ladder?” Gryphon asked, speaking as though his impending execution meant little to him.
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Zander’s lip raised in a snarl. “Barnabas has the Raven invasion to prepare for, the gate to repair. He will deal with you in his own time.”
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Gryphon adjusted his grip on the key to approach the lock from a different angle.
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“It seems Barnabas is content to let you sit out in the cold for the night. Do you think you’ll lose your command over this?” Gryphon raised his chin and smiled.
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Zander drew a knife so fast Gryphon fumbled with the key.
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“Barnabas ordered you brought back alive, but I don’t think he’d mind if I took out your tongue.”
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<br />
Gryphon had been trained to use the emotions of his enemies against them. People made mistakes when they weren’t stable. Plus the conversation muffled the sound of the key scraping futilely against the metal lock behind his back.
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A few of the heads in the wet camp turned to watch the exchange.
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Zander leaned back, battling with his composure. “I might lose my command, but I’ll return to my bunk with our brothers of the mess and rest well after seeing your body hang from a noose.” He shook his head. “I knew you had a strange fascination with that slave—that Wolf. I just didn’t realize your treason extended to all the Nameless inside the Gate.”
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<br />
Just yesterday, Gryphon had inadvertently helped hundreds of Nameless slaves flee the massive walls of Ram’s Gate. To slow the Ram pursuit, he disabled the only exit—a gate so large it required forty Nameless to open it. Even though only a fraction of the Nameless slaves escaped, it would be days before the chain connecting the gate to the counterweight could be repaired.
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<br />
The key finally slipped into the lock. Gryphon let his head fall back, just a fraction, and closed his eyes in relief. Zander’s hate-filled gaze greeted him as he opened his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from turning the key. The lock clicked open, the sound lost in the rain.
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<br />
With one hand free, Gryphon still kept both hands behind his back, though he relaxed his shoulders some to alleviate the ache from being bound. The metal key in Gryphon’s hand was warm. The grooves pressed uncomfortably into his palm, but Gryphon didn’t loosen his hold, refusing to let go of the hope Ajax had given him.
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<br />
Not only was the key his only chance of escaping the certain death that awaited him inside the giant walls of his clan, but it also represented a dim hope that Zo was still alive. That Ajax—Gryphon’s best friend—hadn’t followed through with Zander’s order to find and kill her and the others after Gryphon’s capture.
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<br />
The vivid scenes of the morning replayed in Gryphon’s mind again and again. Everyone asleep under the tree, except Zo and Gryphon. Ram circling the perimeter of the giant fir like bloodhounds sniffing out prey. Zo taking his hand, pretending to be brave even though her eyes—they were always so easy to read—proved it a lie. Her warm lips. The feel of her body pressed against his . . .
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A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold ran up Gryphon’s back. He’d been captured not far from the tree, trying to lead the Ram away from the people he cared for most.
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If only he could ask Ajax if they were alive, though the chances were as likely as staying dry in this storm. Ajax had a family to protect, and the penalty for deceiving his captain was as deadly as deceiving Chief Barnabas himself. Dangerous.
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<br />
Lightning struck not far away, brightening half of Zander’s face in the fast-approaching darkness.
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“Come back to me,” Zo had said, just before she’d leaned into him, touching her soft lips to his.
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<br />
Gryphon slid the key into the second lock.
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He chewed on the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. He fought the urge to spit in Zander’s face, to unlock the chains binding his wrist and strangle him with his bare hands. He was sure he could finish the job before he took a spear to the gut. It felt like the only way to quench the hungry blackness that consumed his insides.
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<br />
Gryphon hung his head, remembering the promise he made to Zo before they separated. Whether Zo was alive or not, he needed to survive to warn the Raven Clan of an impending attack. Countless lives would be spared if the Raven had time to flee the Nest before the Ram arrived. Getting himself killed wouldn’t serve them, even if it meant an escape from the overwhelming ache in his chest.
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<br />
Thunder rolled again. Zander stared. Gryphon prayed for a miracle . . . and hoped he deserved one.
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<br />
He turned the key.
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<br />
The lock clicked open.
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But his manacles clattered to the ground before he could catch them.
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***
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<br />
“We’re not waking him.” Zo’s head throbbed as she held Joshua’s wrist to check his pulse for the tenth time in as many minutes.
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<br />
The boy lay unconscious, but his heart beat a steady rhythm. Zo needed to feel that pulse; it was her tether to sanity. The sound of Ram fists connecting with Gryphon’s body . . . the muffled grunts betraying his pain . . . they still echoed in her mind when she didn’t check her thoughts. From her hiding place, she hadn’t seen Gryphon’s capture, but she had heard. She’d wanted to run out and fight alongside him. Even though she had Joshua and Tess to think of, her inaction tasted like betrayal.
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Rain fell all around them, but they’d managed to stay mostly dry beneath the skirt of a giant fir tree.
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<br />
“This is insane,” said Eva. She had the long nose of her Ram ancestors, set off by a thin mouth. “Do you have any idea what will happen to us if the Ram come back here?” Eva lay flat on her stomach—all leather and long legs—as she scanned the ground outside their fir tree haven.
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Even with a full moon, it was impossible to see far beyond the confines of their shelter. “They have Gryphon. They’ll know you and Joshua are close.” Eva ran her hand over her cropped hair, oblivious to the action. “If I were tracking us, I would have found us hours ago.”
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<br />
Eva was a Ram, just like the soldiers she feared. She’d fled the Gate with Zo for the sake of her unborn child. A baby who would have been killed at birth because it belonged, not to her betrothed, but to a man in the Ram’s slave class known as the Nameless.
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Zo gazed up at the tree trunk, hoping to inhale a bit of patience along with the strong scent of pine. “We wait until Joshua’s ready, Eva. Not a moment sooner.”
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“But the Nameless will be miles away by now.”
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<br />
Zo conceded the point. At that moment, hundreds of escaped slaves traveled to get as far from Ram’s Gate as possible to protect their newfound freedom. They didn’t know how to find the Allied Camp. Zo had told Stone, Eva’s lover and the leader of the Nameless rebellion, it was south of Ram’s Gate, but that was the extent of their knowledge, and it wouldn’t be enough to find the slot canyon that led to the Allies.
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<br />
The Nameless needed her. So did her little sister Tess, Joshua, and even Eva. None of them would survive without Zo’s ability to lead them to the Allies. But it didn’t change the fact that all Zo wanted to do at the moment was sprint up the mountain to Ram’s Gate—the place from which they’d just escaped—and demand the release of the young man she’d come to care for. The man who’d saved her life and the life of her sister, even though doing so had caused him to lose everything.
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<br />
Gryphon.
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<br />
Zo’s little sister, Tess, sat like a watchdog beside Joshua’s head, playing with the boy’s red hair. In the low light, she looked even smaller than her eight years.
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“Zo’s smart. She knows what to do,” said Tess. She was blond with dirt smeared across her nose and cheeks. She glared at Eva with her giant blue-green eyes, almost daring her to contradict her big sister.
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Zo hugged her knees to her chest, fighting a sudden surge of nausea, hoping Tess was right to trust her so completely.
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“Someone’s coming,” Eva hissed. She pushed up onto her knees, wielding two deadly looking knives. At the same time, Zo yanked Tess to the ground and threw herself over her and Joshua’s body. It was a futile effort to save them, but fear took over all rational thought.
<br />
<br />
Soft footfalls crept outside their shelter, each step marking the final moments of their lives. Zo glanced around for some kind of weapon or stick to help defend the two people—two children—for whom she was responsible. All she found in the darkness was a bed of dry pine needles and her medical satchel—nothing to defend them against fighters from the deadliest clan in the region.
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The footsteps came closer, muted by the soggy earth. Eva moved from her knees to the balls of her feet, a compressed spring ready to fly into an attack. She adjusted her grip on her knives.
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Hope fled. Zo couldn’t catch her breath. Tess. Joshua. Eva. The Nameless. Dying today under this tree meant the deaths of so many others as well. Gryphon’s sacrifice had been in vain.
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Large boots stopped mere feet from Zo’s hiding place. Boots she’d recognize anywhere.
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“Don’t,” she cried, trying to stop Eva before she attacked.
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But her warning was too late.
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Eva sprang, blades in hand, aimed at the intruder’s chest.
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMytoU-1GG0/V3QVIqV-sCI/AAAAAAAASiY/OFfYSbvsUXsYJnec-iS2tD42PlnGyuSWACLcB/s1600/Jennifer%2BJenkins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMytoU-1GG0/V3QVIqV-sCI/AAAAAAAASiY/OFfYSbvsUXsYJnec-iS2tD42PlnGyuSWACLcB/s320/Jennifer%2BJenkins.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">With her
degree in History and Secondary Education, Jennifer had every intention of
teaching teens to love George Washington and appreciate the finer points of
ancient battle stratagem. (Seriously, she’s obsessed with ancient warfare.)
However, life had different plans in store when the writing began. As a proud
member of Writers Cubed, and a co-founder of the Teen Author Boot Camp, she
feels blessed to be able to fulfill both her ambition to work with teens as
well as write Young Adult fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Jennifer has
three children who are experts at naming her characters, one loving, supportive
husband, a dog with little-man syndrome, and three chickens (of whom she is
secretly afraid).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Visit her
online at <a href="http://jajenkins.com/">jajenkins.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br />
</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Connect with
the Author: <a href="http://www.jajenkins.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/authorjenkins">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jennifer.e.jenkins">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8203861.Jennifer_Jenkins">Goodreads</a> | <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/jenhistory/">Pinterest</a> |<a href="https://instagram.com/jenniferajenkins/">Instagram</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive a paperback of NAMELESS,
US Only.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">3 winners will receive an eGalley of
CLANLESS, International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2464" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2464/" id="rcwidget_u06kut0b" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-86636707256963313382016-05-17T00:00:00.000-06:002016-05-17T00:00:00.174-06:005 Star review - Crimson Tides by Eliza Tilton #ya #fantasy<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; line-height: 21.56px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I recently posted the launch celebration for Crimson Tides by Eliza Tilton. I just finished reading it and my review is below.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Tides-Daath-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B01F4D4FVW?ie=UTF8&keywords=eliza%20tilton&qid=1463417807&ref_=sr_1_3&s=digital-text&sr=1-3" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_j64b39NEK8/VzoBFWdOVjI/AAAAAAAAB7E/Pc8w4fW27gEe3bBFCo0HRDYBk4b-A6dmQCLcB/s320/Crimson%2BTides%2BCover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>~ Blurb ~</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Back in Lakewood Avikar finally learns the truth about his father—and the lies he’s been told since birth. Since King Corban doesn’t believe his tale about the shapeshifters, it falls to Avikar to find a way to route out the beasts from the lands and stop them once and for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lucino has left Jeslyn in Mirth to go fight the Kuuni. When he arrives on the black shores, ready to slaughter them all, he finds that killing is no longer as easy as before. His human side is becoming stronger, and the repercussions of his love for Jeslyn will put his race and every plan he’s ever made at risk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">In Book Three of the Daath Chronicles, two very different boys will discover who they thought they were is nowhere close to the truth, and sacrificing themselves is the only way to save the world they love.</span></div>
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<b>~ My Review ~</b></div>
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Yay, book 3 is here! Crimson Tides picks up where Wicked
Path left off. We get three perspectives nicely woven through the story from
Avikar, Lucino, and Jeslyn. All three are on separate missions with conflicting
goals, so you know this will get tense!<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was nice to see Avikar struggle with his feelings toward
fallen comrades, his father’s mysterious past, and his blooming love of Raven.
Lucino’s character is also deepened, you have to root for him (most of the
time!) even though he has the ability and possible intention to slaughter all
humans. Jeslyn must decide the future she wants as well as take her own path to
get there – and by the end of the book, she is just learning the implications
of her choice, so there is more to come for all three characters, which I’m
glad to see.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was a plot twist near the end that most people won’t
like and it made me sad. But then all the more determined to know how the story
continues.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This sequel is definitely worth reading. The writing is good
and Ms. Tilton’s fight scenes are quite exciting. And if you haven’t read it,
you should check out the short story <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Dance-Daath-Short-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B017JH625I?ie=UTF8&keywords=eliza%20tilton&qid=1463417807&ref_=sr_1_5&s=digital-text&sr=1-5" target="_blank">Deadly Dance</a>, which throws a fun twist in
showing how Lucy and Derrick ended up together in Crimson Tides.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well done, 4.5 stars, rounding to 5.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>~ About the Author ~</b></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8YIg_d_IOfM/VzoBzMT8HPI/AAAAAAAAB7I/1cpP2Ic5uQY40PElM1mBWwon0438wDYHACLcB/s1600/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8YIg_d_IOfM/VzoBzMT8HPI/AAAAAAAAB7I/1cpP2Ic5uQY40PElM1mBWwon0438wDYHACLcB/s320/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" width="172" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Eliza graduated from Dowling College with a BA in Visual Communications. When she’s not arguing with excel at her day job, or playing Dragon Age 2, again, she’s writing. Her stories hold a bit of the fantastical and there’s always a romance. Her YA Fantasy series, The Daath Chronicles, is published by Curiosity Quills Press.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">~ Author Links ~<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Web: </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://elizatilton.com/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">http://elizatilton.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Twitter: </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Instagram: </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Amazon: </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Facebook: </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Goodreads:</span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton</span></a></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Buy Links:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">#Free with #KindleUnlimited </span></b><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Broken Forest: <a href="http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Wicked Path: <a href="http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px; text-align: center;">Crimson Tides: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9" style="color: #888888; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;">http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9</a></span></div>
GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-65893053138868790922016-05-16T00:00:00.000-06:002016-05-16T00:00:14.811-06:00Cover reveal - Sacrifice by Cindy Pon #ya #fantasy #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hN8yewSjjL4/VzOVoxIo-uI/AAAAAAAAR-U/5D-0YIxDTnkY7RDEwpIasyBrJxj3WzIhgCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hN8yewSjjL4/VzOVoxIo-uI/AAAAAAAAR-U/5D-0YIxDTnkY7RDEwpIasyBrJxj3WzIhgCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Today Cindy Pon and Month9Books are revealing
the cover for SACRIFICE, book 2 in the <i>Serpentine</i>
Series! Which releases September 27, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and
enter to win a paperback copy of book 1, <i>Serpentine</i>!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">I am so excited to share the Sacrifice cover
with readers! I didn't think it was possible, but I love it even more than my
gorgeous Serpentine cover. My second novel is always about dealing with consequences
of what happened in the first book. Skybright was on a journey to discover the
truth of her origins and identity in Serpentine, and I believe she truly comes
into her own in Sacrifice. I love the prominent featuring of her crimson tail,
and the tension and energy this cover conveys—it reflects the novel so well. I
hope you enjoy Sacrifice!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Title:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> SACRIFICE
(Serpentine, Book 2)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Author:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Cindy Pon<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> September 27, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Format:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Paperback, Hardcover, & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Find it:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1qeiY6P"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Amazon</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sacrifice-cindy-pon/1123486700?ean=9781944816926"><span style="line-height: 107%;">B&N</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Sacrifice-Cindy-Pon/9781944816926?ref=grid-view"><span style="line-height: 107%;">TBD</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28537304-sacrifice"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Sacrifice, the sequel to Serpentine,
plunges Skybright into the terrifying underworld where demons are bred and
whisks her up to the magnificent Mountain of Heavenly Peace where the gods
dwell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Stone is stripped of his immortal status
and told to close hell's breach, which mysteriously remains open, threatening
mortals. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Zhen Ni, Skybright's former mistress and
friend, has been wed to the strange and brutish Master Hou, and finds herself
trapped in an opulent but empty manor. When she discovers half-eaten corpses
beneath the estate, she realizes that Master Hou is not all that he seems. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">As Skybright works to free Zhen Ni with
the aid of Kai Sen and Stone, they begin to understand that what is at risk is
more far-reaching then they could ever have fathomed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Cindy Pon is
the author of Silver Phoenix (Greenwillow, 2009), which was named one of the
Top Ten Fantasy and Science Fiction Books for Youth by the American Library
Association’s Booklist, and one of 2009′s best Fantasy,Science Fiction and
Horror by VOYA.The sequel to Silver Phoenix, titled Fury of the Phoenix, was
released in April 2011. Her first published short story is featured in Diverse
Energies,a multicultural YA dystopian anthology from Tu Books (October 2012).
Cindy is also a Chinese brush painting student of over a decade. Visit her <a href="http://www.cindypon.com/">website</a>. </span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Where you can find Cindy:</span><b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.cindypon.com/">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/cindypon">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/cindy.pon?ref=name">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2471183.Cindy_Pon">Goodreads</a> | <a href="http://cindypon.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> | <a href="https://instagram.com/cindyponauthor/">Instagram</a></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EsuzhK40gF4/VzOV7FYt6rI/AAAAAAAAR-k/uI2FSUsCXOwT3ugdsEKYjGxXC_gAN-JJwCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EsuzhK40gF4/VzOV7FYt6rI/AAAAAAAAR-k/uI2FSUsCXOwT3ugdsEKYjGxXC_gAN-JJwCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;">2 winners will receive a paperback of
SERPENTINE, US Only.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-75381378415609347302016-05-12T00:00:00.000-06:002016-05-12T00:00:06.288-06:00Come celebrate release day for Crimson Tides by Eliza Tilton #ya #fantasy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I love this series! Definitely check out this book and get your copy!</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pFWAY1ADZaI/VzJ4ocwiZLI/AAAAAAAAUsE/gs7jo8A6h_MPhf3lFWFxYxCoXSR0yCoTQCLcB/s1600/Book%2BBanner%2B1%2B-%2BEliza%2BTilton%2B%2528Crimson%2BTides%2BBlitz%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pFWAY1ADZaI/VzJ4ocwiZLI/AAAAAAAAUsE/gs7jo8A6h_MPhf3lFWFxYxCoXSR0yCoTQCLcB/s400/Book%2BBanner%2B1%2B-%2BEliza%2BTilton%2B%2528Crimson%2BTides%2BBlitz%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Title: Crimson Tides <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author: Eliza Tilton <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Genre: YA Fantasy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hosted by: </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.ladyambersreviews.com/">Lady Amber's PR</a></span><u><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Back in Lakewood Avikar finally learns the truth about his father—and the lies he’s been told since birth. Since King Corban doesn’t believe his tale about the shapeshifters, it falls to Avikar to find a way to route out the beasts from the lands and stop them once and for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lucino has left Jeslyn in Mirth to go fight the Kuuni. When he arrives on the black shores, ready to slaughter them all, he finds that killing is no longer as easy as before. His human side is becoming stronger, and the repercussions of his love for Jeslyn will put his race and every plan he’s ever made at risk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In Book Three of the Daath Chronicles, two very different boys will discover who they thought they were is nowhere close to the truth, and sacrificing themselves is the only way to save the world they love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26199938-crimson-tides"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J9STZ6Aa3Kg/VzJwRLdMg2I/AAAAAAAAUrk/WBlqxoyn_CYUcxEiOvQvWP1QqKsBY0QJgCKgB/s1600/AddtoGoodreads.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0WPslXPtvLs/VzKBjnl7HtI/AAAAAAAAUso/Mst1nl1N_YsJw5-Ue-BA3YDdEw-7a14BQCLcB/s1600/CT%2BTeaser%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0WPslXPtvLs/VzKBjnl7HtI/AAAAAAAAUso/Mst1nl1N_YsJw5-Ue-BA3YDdEw-7a14BQCLcB/s320/CT%2BTeaser%2B1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RX1ZNd_Q0AM/VzJw68HH7II/AAAAAAAAUr0/T3RGtA4j_ukHJPjoWtaZgmjxrx_ONEIOACKgB/s1600/Author-Bio.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RX1ZNd_Q0AM/VzJw68HH7II/AAAAAAAAUr0/T3RGtA4j_ukHJPjoWtaZgmjxrx_ONEIOACKgB/s1600/Author-Bio.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1GfF47ytdE/VzKBczvUhuI/AAAAAAAAUsk/u0ZH-PGsEvEz-DfCuZs2GJ2Foa57h42tgCLcB/s1600/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1GfF47ytdE/VzKBczvUhuI/AAAAAAAAUsk/u0ZH-PGsEvEz-DfCuZs2GJ2Foa57h42tgCLcB/s320/Eliza%2BTilton.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="172" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Eliza graduated from Dowling College with a BA in Visual Communications. When she’s not arguing with excel at her day job, or playing Dragon Age 2, again, she’s writing. Her stories hold a bit of the fantastical and there’s always a romance. Her YA Fantasy series, The Daath Chronicles, is published by Curiosity Quills Press.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Author Links: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Web: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://elizatilton.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">http://elizatilton.com/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twitter: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">https://twitter.com/ElizaTilton</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instagram: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">https://www.instagram.com/elizatilton13/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Amazon: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">http://amzn.to/1So0CgQ</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Facebook: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">https://www.facebook.com/Eliza-Tilton-YA-Author-245765852217133/</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Goodreads: </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7047768.Eliza_Tilton</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Buy Links: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">#Free with #KindleUnlimited
</span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Broken Forest: <a href="http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar">http://amzn.to/1Tzv6ar</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wicked Path: <a href="http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC">http://amzn.to/1Og5nHC</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: center;">Crimson Tides: </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: center;">http://amzn.to/1rSWmd9</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wind rattled the wooden shutter on the open window, banging it against the home. An annoying sound, and no one came to close it. Why? The bang echoed through the silent forest. Where were the owls, or even a wolf? Uneasiness filled each of my steps as we slowly walked to the door. I expected an arrow to come flying my way. Two strangers knocking on the door of a secluded cabin in the middle of the night … how could we not get an arrow in the face?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Raven stayed behind me, her hands resting on the hilts of her daggers. My palms sweat and my mouth went dry. I wanted my sword in my hands, but if I approached while holding a weapon, they might attack. Holding my breath, I knocked on the door, and it swayed open beneath my touch. A stringent odor wafted out from the cabin and I covered my nose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-48749136825178138032016-05-06T21:30:00.000-06:002016-05-06T21:30:03.746-06:00Awesome steampunk cover reveal from Leigh Statham and @Month9Books #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ghziJqfnRes/Vyo_aqiwVUI/AAAAAAAAR38/7-BZO9tEPm4UE1CrALh4aKtFbHEnaGesACLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ghziJqfnRes/Vyo_aqiwVUI/AAAAAAAAR38/7-BZO9tEPm4UE1CrALh4aKtFbHEnaGesACLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">Today Leigh Statham and Month9Books are
revealing the cover for THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL, book
2 in THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL Series! Which releases October
11, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers
to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 107%;">Why I love the cover: Hello, GOGGLES! I love how
artist Christel Michiels captures Marguerite's amazing fashion sense and tech
gadgets. Plus this cover, like the first, is just the right mix of danger and
fun. Who doesn't love leather gear cuffs and a good tophat?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H997-rzo3EA/Vyo_wtoBmvI/AAAAAAAAR4A/A_vy3vSoEbUiflC5vvEfch28Cd8Kreq8wCLcB/s1600/THE%2BPERILOUS%2BJOURNEY%2BOF%2BTHE%2BMUCH%2BTOO%2BSPONTANEOUS%2BGIRL.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H997-rzo3EA/Vyo_wtoBmvI/AAAAAAAAR4A/A_vy3vSoEbUiflC5vvEfch28Cd8Kreq8wCLcB/s640/THE%2BPERILOUS%2BJOURNEY%2BOF%2BTHE%2BMUCH%2BTOO%2BSPONTANEOUS%2BGIRL.JPG" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> <b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Title:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> THE
PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL (THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE
NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL #2)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Author:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Leigh Statham<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> October 11, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Format:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> Paperback & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">Find it:</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1NWG25s"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Amazon</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/perilous-journey-of-the-much-too-spontaneous-girl-leigh-statham/1123685910?ean=9781944816575"><span style="line-height: 107%;">B&N</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
| </span><a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Perilous-Journey-of-the-Much-Too-Spontaneous-Girl/9781944816575"><span style="line-height: 107%;">TBD</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;">
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29936979-perilous-journey-of-the-much-too-spontaneous-girl"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">Lady Marguerite Vadnay and her trusty
automaton, Outil, have settled into life in New France rather well. Marguerite
is top of the class at flight school and her future as an aerpilot is nearly
secure. She has everything she wants— except a commission on the pirate hunting
dirigible The Renegade. Using every card in her aristocratic arsenal,
Marguerite wiggles her way onto the finest warship France has to offer. But as
usual, Marguerite’s plans endanger the lives of those she holds dear— only this
time no one else is going to save them. As Marguerite and Outil set off on a
rescue mission they may not return from, she finally realizes it’s time to
reorder her cogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">This steampunk adventure is littered
with facts from The Golden Age of Piracy and follows (not too closely) some of the
lives and adventures of the brave men and women who sailed the seas as
privateers, pirates and soldiers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 107%;">Leigh Statham
was raised in the wilds of rural Idaho, but found her heart in New York City.
She worked as a waitress, maid, artist, math teacher, nurse, web designer, art
director, thirty-foot inflatable pig and mule wrangler before she settled down
in the semi-quiet role of wife, mother and writer. She resides in North
Carolina with her husband, four children, five chickens and two suspected
serial killer cats. If the air is cool and the sun is just coming up over the
horizon, you can find her running the streets of her small town, plotting her
next novel with the sort of intensity that will one day get her hit by a car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br />
Where you can find Leigh: <a href="http://leighstatham.com/">Website</a>
|<a href="https://twitter.com/LeighStatham">Twitter </a>| <a href="http://www.facebook.com/leighstatham">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7214789.Leigh_Statham">Goodreads</a></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 107%;">1 winner will receive an eBook of THE
PERILOUS JOURNEY OF THE NOT SO INNOCUOUS GIRL & an eGalley of THE PERILOUS
JOURNEY OF THE MUCH TOO SPONTANEOUS GIRL (when available), International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-52178889913935449772016-04-29T00:00:00.000-06:002016-04-29T00:00:20.194-06:00Cover reveal for Scepter of Fire by Vicki Weavil #ya #giveaway #fantasy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q3tAMtj_c4Q/VyEF_XInewI/AAAAAAAARzs/anMPQqYr7w4Ap9hu0w8U9kkeAo41l2XUwCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q3tAMtj_c4Q/VyEF_XInewI/AAAAAAAARzs/anMPQqYr7w4Ap9hu0w8U9kkeAo41l2XUwCLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Vicki L. Weavil and Month9Books
are revealing the cover and first chapter for SCEPTER OF FIRE, a companion
novel in the CROWN OF ICE Series! Which releases October 18, 2016! Check out
the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive an
eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Ugly
Duckling” and “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” SCEPTER OF FIRE is a companion book
to CROWN OF ICE, my retelling of “The Snow Queen.” It takes place a few years
later, in the midst of an invasion by a power-mad foreign emperor, and includes
most of the characters from CROWN OF ICE.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">However the protagonist in SCEPTER OF FIRE is
someone new—17yo Varna Lund, an ugly duckling among swans, who’s certain her
destiny lies in taking on the mantle of village healer after the death of her
aged mentor. But when a young soldier enlists her aid to care for his injured
friend, Varna and her sister, Gerda, are catapulted into the war that has
engulfed their country.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Forced to flee enemy troops with her sister and
the two soldiers, Varna must also evade her mentor, Sten Rask—revealed to be a
powerful mage seeking the enchanted mirror hidden by a former Snow Queen.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">To protect the mirror, and their country, Varna,
Gerda, and the soldiers join forces with a sorceress, an enchanted reindeer, a
brilliant scholar, and a young woman traveling with a wolf. But Varna faces a
terrible temptation. Promised beauty and power by the devilishly handsome Rask,
she must choose—achieve her own desires, or protect a society that has never
embraced her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The Cover:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I love how this cover matches the cover of CROWN
OF ICE, and yet is different enough to set the books apart. Both feature
striking young women, but whereas CROWN is glazed with icy blue tones, SCEPTER
is saturated with reds, golds and other fiery hues. If you look closely, you
can even see flames reflected in the girl’s eyes—very appropriate for a book
that deals with sorcerers who wield fire. Although the cover model is not an
“ugly duckling,” she does accurately reflect the protagonist during one portion
of the book, which I will not reveal at this point due to “spoilers”! <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> SCEPTER
OF FIRE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Vicki L. Weavil<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> October 18, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1NU37jS"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
| </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/scepter-of-fire-vicki-l-weavil/1123722028?ean=9781944816599"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">B&N</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
| </span><a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Scepter-of-Fire/9781944816599"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">TBD</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29993585-scepter-of-fire"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Sharp as pine needles, and twice as
bitter, seventeen-year-old Varna Lund’s determined to become a healer. At least
patients don’t care about her looks, unlike the young men who spurn <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">her for eighteen-year-old Gerda or even
her younger sisters. An ugly duckling among swans, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Varna hopes to bury her passionate
nature in useful work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Her healing skills are put to the test
when Varna encounters Erik Stahl, a young soldier who’s <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">deserted the battlefield to carry his
injured friend, Anders Nygaard, to safety. Varna, enlisting the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">aid of Gerda, cares for Anders in
secret. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But a brutal betrayal catapults the four
young people into life on the run, where Varna discovers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">her old mentor is actually a powerful
wizard. Seeking the enchanted mirror hidden by a former <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Snow Queen, the wizard hopes to use
Gerda as a pawn in his plan to aid the invading emperor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Other forces ally against the wizard,
including an auburn-haired sorceress, an enchanted <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">reindeer, a brilliant scholar, and a
young woman traveling with a wolf. Along with the soldiers <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">and Gerda, they vow to prevent the
mirror from falling into enemy hands. But tempted with promises of beauty and
power from her now devilishly handsome mentor, Varna must choose <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">between her own desires and the good of
a society that’s never embraced her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s
“The Ugly Duckling” and “The Steadfast Tin Soldier”, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">SCEPTER OF FIRE is a companion book to
CROWN OF ICE.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9VBeAuf9A9s/VyEGEvkm0kI/AAAAAAAARz0/f2GT5_XD9zAwmiFzqg9g7EOoyEwi5gD0gCLcB/s1600/About%2BThe%2BAuthor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9VBeAuf9A9s/VyEGEvkm0kI/AAAAAAAARz0/f2GT5_XD9zAwmiFzqg9g7EOoyEwi5gD0gCLcB/s400/About%2BThe%2BAuthor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3KwRxTsxRpc/VyEGJsenPLI/AAAAAAAARz4/MLCYBHt05G0Az6IE_fscIBurYFlrzgW-QCLcB/s1600/Vicki%2BWeavil%2B11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3KwRxTsxRpc/VyEGJsenPLI/AAAAAAAARz4/MLCYBHt05G0Az6IE_fscIBurYFlrzgW-QCLcB/s320/Vicki%2BWeavil%2B11.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Vicki L.
Weavil was raised in a farming community in Virginia, where her life was shaped
by a wonderful family, the culture of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and an
obsession with reading. She holds a B.A. in Theatre from the University of
Virginia, a Masters in Library Science from Indiana University, and a Masters
in Liberal Studies from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. After
working as a librarian at the NY Public Library at Lincoln Center, and the
Museum of Television & Radio (now the Paley Center for Media) in NYC, she
is currently the Director for Library Services at the University of North
Carolina School of the Arts.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Vicki loves
good writing in any genre, and has been known to read seven books in as many
days. She enjoys travel, gardening, and the arts. Vicki lives in North Carolina
with her husband and some very spoiled cats. A member of SCBWI, Vicki is
represented by Fran Black at Literary Counsel, NY, NY.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br />
Where you can find Vicki:<a href="http://www.vickilempweavil.com/"> Website</a>
| <a href="http://twitter.com/VickiLWeavil">Twitter </a>| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/VickiLempWeavil">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7091425.Vicki_L_Weavil">Goodreads</a>
| <a href="http://vickilweavil.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1cmpLf2tGs/VyEGKgw8lCI/AAAAAAAARz8/wwebYH-0P7Y8lroZl0sntk1rfRpL2sovQCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1cmpLf2tGs/VyEGKgw8lCI/AAAAAAAARz8/wwebYH-0P7Y8lroZl0sntk1rfRpL2sovQCLcB/s400/Giveaway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eBook of CROWN
OF ICE & an eGalley of SCEPTER OF FIRE (when available), International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2446" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2446/" id="rcwidget_s19upi5k" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-17504185807698649572016-04-22T00:00:00.000-06:002016-04-22T00:00:01.921-06:00Cover and chapter reveal for un/Fair by Steven Harper #MG #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W0-jctxEglc/VxfItWvOHAI/AAAAAAAARv4/3TqDK6U9n_gBzIw5magA1x_JMAx5TShsACLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W0-jctxEglc/VxfItWvOHAI/AAAAAAAARv4/3TqDK6U9n_gBzIw5magA1x_JMAx5TShsACLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Steven Harper and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for un/FAIR which releases September 6,
2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to
receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a quick introduction from the
author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">When the doctor said my son Aran was autistic,
my world turned upside-down. I spent
years playing special games with him to help him understand the world
better. But in the process, I learned to
understand him. While I struggled to
pull him into our world, he quietly pulled me into his. This book came out of that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">People always ask authors--including me--why I
got a certain scene on the cover or why I didn't put a particular character on
the front. The truth is, authors almost
never draw the book covers. We get a
picture of it by email, and it's always a surprise, like getting an early
birthday present. Sometimes the present
is a wool sweater you want to wad into a ball and stuff under the bed. Sometimes the present is a toy you didn't
know you wanted until you got it. The
cover for un/FAIR was the latter. Ryan
looks very much like I imagined him in my head, and the salamanders creeping
down the top make it clear this isn't a happy fairy book. The artist even snuck in a reference to the
Fibonacci sequence! I loved getting this
one.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WPGR-nrMB64/VxfI10pk1CI/AAAAAAAARwE/ys8aPoQZXrEduessbmfB_K-2aqbG81xqwCLcB/s1600/UnFair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WPGR-nrMB64/VxfI10pk1CI/AAAAAAAARwE/ys8aPoQZXrEduessbmfB_K-2aqbG81xqwCLcB/s640/UnFair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> un/FAIR</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> Steven Harper<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> September 6, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> Paperback & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1Nlyhpe"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/un-fair-steven-harper/1123603137?ean=9780996890410">B&N</a> | <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Un-Fair/9780996890410">TBD</a> | </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29633540-un-fair"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">It's difficult enough to live in the neighborhood "freakazoid" house. It's even more difficult when you're autistic and neither your family nor best friend really understands you. So when Ryan November wakes up on his eleventh birthday with the unexpected ability to see the future, he braces himself for trouble. But even his newfound power doesn't anticipate that the fair folk--undines, salamanders, gnomes, and sylphs--want him dead, dead, dead. Ryan races to defend himself and his family against unrelenting danger from the fairy realm so he can uncover the truth about his family history--and himself. Except as Ryan's power grows, the more enticing the fairy realm becomes, forcing him to choose between order and chaos, power and family. And for an autistic boy, such choices are never cut and dry.</span></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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Un/FAIR
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PART I
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<br />
CHAPTER ONE
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Ryan November woke up on his eleventh birthday and knew he’d be able to see the future by breakfast. He rolled over. His clock said 6:56, so he couldn’t get up for four more minutes. That was all right. He didn’t mind waiting.
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Not until he saw the string.
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The string was made of liquid silver and lay piled in the exact center of a perfect square of May sunshine on his bedroom floor. It gleamed where the sunlight struck it. Ryan stared. He had never seen it before. The messy string looked out of place in the perfectly neat room. In Ryan’s room, every piece of clothing hung in the closet or lay folded in a dresser drawer. Every book sat in alphabetical order on the shelf. Every toy and video game stood arranged in rows more orderly than troops of soldiers. The squiggle of silver string on the floor made Ryan’s head itch on the inside, where he couldn’t scratch. He wanted to pick the string up and put it away.
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The clock stopped him. The little red numbers read 6:57 now — three more minutes to go, even though he wanted to examine the string very badly.
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Maybe he could find a way around the problem. Automatically, Ryan ran a flowchart in his mind. If he had written it down, it would have looked like this:
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<br />
[See Figure 1.]
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<br />
The chart put him at “Stay in bed,” so he lay there, trying not to scratch his head or squirm with suspense, until at last the numbers flicked to 8:00. Ryan pushed the blankets aside and hurried over to pick up the string, still squiggled across the floor. The moment he touched it, the string moved on its own. It jumped into his hand like a little snake. He felt a cold, tingly sensation, and the string was gone. Instead, there was a perfect circle of raised skin around the palm of his left hand.
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“Wow,” Ryan said.
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<br />
Ryan liked circles. He liked their symmetry, the way you couldn’t tell where they started or ended, the way every part was like every other part. He traced the circle with his finger and smiled. He could have a circle with him wherever he went. Then, because Saturday was a brown day, he put on brown cargo pants, a brown shirt, and brown socks before pulling on his shoes and heading for the stairs. Ryan had red-blond hair that he tried to keep combed but always got away from him, a thin sprinkling of freckles that thickened in the summer, and somber eyes that his best friend Alison always described as “blue pools of inexactitude,” which bugged Ryan because he didn’t know what it meant. At the last second, Ryan remembered to grab his cell phone from his dresser. The circle had almost made him forget. There were already two text messages on the screen:
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<br />
Happy Shared B-Day, R!!
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<br />
And
<br />
<br />
Happy day kiddo!
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<br />
He texted back, his thumbs jumping across the keypad like precise, tiny frogs:
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<br />
Happy Shared Birthday to you, too, Alison!
<br />
<br />
and
Thanks, Mom.
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<br />
Ryan never felt quite right abbreviating, so he didn’t. Then he traced the circle on his hand one more time and tromped downstairs.
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<br />
There were fourteen wooden steps leading down to the kitchen. Each one had nine wooden pegs pounded in a straight line across the front edge, and Ryan automatically counted them all at a glance. 126 pegs, just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. He liked the number 126. The digits added up to nine, which was also the number of pegs in each step. The number 126 was a good number to start the day with. He jumped over step number twelve. Ryan didn’t like the number twelve. It was divisible by too many other numbers — itself, six, four, three, two, and one. That was half the numbers between one and twelve. Ryan always felt like twelve would keep dividing itself until it vanished entirely, and he didn’t want to step on a stair that might disappear.
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<br />
Ryan rounded the turn in the staircase and emerged in the kitchen. It was big and airy, and right now it smelled like butter and hot batter. Aunt Zara was on breakfast duty this morning, and today she had settled on pancakes, Ryan’s favorite. Ryan quietly took his usual place on the bench that ran down the long wooden table. Everything in the Cottage was wood — walls, floor, cupboards, ceiling. Wood hinges held the doors on, and wood latches held them shut. Raw exposed beams ran up to support the roof, and the shingles were made of flat wood. The entire house was held together with wooden pegs. Ryan’s dad boasted that not one scrap of steel held the house together. Instead, the builders had used copper and plastic and ceramic. Ryan liked this. Metals like iron and steel felt heavy and harsh and made his stomach queasy.
<br />
<br />
“My, my. Happy birthday, Ryan,” Aunt Zara said, and put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Ryan tensed a little. Food you could count had to come in even numbers. Mom always remembered this when she cooked, but Aunt Zara sometimes forgot, and it could turn a simple meal into a disaster. Quickly he counted. Two pancakes, two pieces of sausage. Ryan sighed with relief. It would be bad to get the wrong number of pancakes on his birthday.
<br />
<br />
Ryan glanced up at Aunt Zara. She favored blue blouses and long skirts that flowed together like waterfalls. She wore her blond hair loose around her shoulders except for two blue barrettes that kept her bangs out of her face. She had a long nose and a wide mouth. At the moment, she was smiling with her teeth showing. Her voice had an upbeat tone to it, and she moved like her body was relaxed. Ryan added these things up and decided Aunt Zara was happy. The appropriate response, Ryan had learned, was a smile. So he smiled. Then he remembered that she had just given him something — his breakfast. It meant he had to say something.
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<br />
“Thank you,” he said slowly, and tensed slightly, wondering if he had gotten it wrong. It seemed like he got it wrong a lot.
<br />
<br />
“You’re welcome.” Aunt Zara tried to pat his shoulder, but Ryan ducked away. “Sorry, sweetie. I forget.”
<br />
<br />
Ryan didn’t like it when people touched him. It felt beyond weird to feel their skin sliding over his in ways he couldn’t control. And a hug felt like being suffocated in wet blankets. When he was little, he had screamed and hit. Now he ducked and dodged.
<br />
<br />
Aunt Zara headed back for the stove. Ryan was turning to his pancakes, silver fork poised, when his world flickered for a second. Everything grew brighter, as if someone had doubled the sunlight, and he heard a knock. A dark-haired girl poked her head through the screen door and said, “Is he still eating breakfast?” and her voice had a strange, ghostly quality to it. Then the extra light vanished and everything snapped back to normal. Ryan realized no time had passed at all.
<br />
<br />
A knock came, and a dark-haired girl poked her head through the screen door. “Is he still eating breakfast?” Ryan stopped eating to stare. He had just seen this happen twice.
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“Come in, Alison,” Aunt Zara sang out. “You’re just in time for pancakes.”
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Alison Ferrier stalked through the door and angled across the kitchen to the table, her skinny legs and sharp elbows flopping carelessly in all directions. Even her ponytail looked sharp. Ryan watched her, caught in an awful fascination. One day she was going to puncture something; he was sure of it. Alison was Ryan’s best — his only — friend, and she lived in a tiny trailer in the woods with three sisters and two brothers and one mother (making seven people total, and seven was a prime number). Like him, she was turning eleven today (another prime number, and if you added one and one, you got two). It took two people to be friends, and two was the only even prime number. Ryan liked that.
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Alison folded herself onto the bench beside him. “Two pancakes, two sausages,” she said, looking at his plate. “Will it bug you if I have three and three?”
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“No,” Ryan said. “That plate over there” — he pointed — “has one pancake on it, so that makes everything Fibonacci.” He said the word the Italian way: feeb-oh-NAH-chee.
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“Fibonacci?”
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“You know. Zero and one make one, then one and one make two, two and one make three.”
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“Oh, right. Cool.”
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“My, my. Doesn’t your family feed you?” Aunt Zara asked, setting a plate down in front of her.
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“Nope,” Alison said, her mouth already full, and Ryan couldn’t tell if this was a lie or not. He thought about asking, then decided not to and ate more pancakes instead.
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“Today is our birthday,” Ryan said. “May first.”
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“Yep.” Alison grinned, showing a big mouthful of smooshed-up Fibonacci pancake. Ryan laughed. “Where’s everyone else?”
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“I don’t know,” Ryan said.
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“Your dad went down to the lake for some early fishing,” Aunt Zara said from the stove. “Aunt Ysabeth and your mother are wrapping birthday presents. So stay out of your mother’s bedroom, Ryan, if you don’t mind.”
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<br />
There was another flick. The world brightened again, and this time Aunt Zara dropped a spatula. It clattered on the stove. Alison spilled her milk, creating a chaotic mess that rushed over the table and dripped into Ryan’s lap.
<br />
<br />
The world flicked back to normal. Aunt Zara dropped her spatula. It clattered on the stove. Alison reached for her milk glass. Ryan flinched at the upcoming mess. Chaos was the worst. It hurt his stomach and made his head feel like it was going to explode. So he reached out with his own hand and slapped hers down, pinning it to the table.
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-KhJppvSvM/VxfI8vwoj9I/AAAAAAAARwI/joCnHqjUBV0Bkdk4FYyeR8xmwOFio6ymACLcB/s1600/Steven%2BPiziks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-KhJppvSvM/VxfI8vwoj9I/AAAAAAAARwI/joCnHqjUBV0Bkdk4FYyeR8xmwOFio6ymACLcB/s320/Steven%2BPiziks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Steven Harper/Piziks is the author of
multiple fantasy and science fiction novels written for adults, notably the
Clockwork Empire and Silent Empire series for Roc as Steven Harper and movie
novelizations and tie ins for Pocket Books as Steven Piziks (IDENTITY, THE
EXORCIST: THE BEGINNING, GHOST WHISPERER: THE PLAUGE ROOM). He's also the father of an autistic son.<br />
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<a href="http://www.theclockworkempire.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/StevenPiziks">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/steven.piziks">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/104733.Steven_Piziks">Goodreads</a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cm1zckHgj3c/VxfIusaCuBI/AAAAAAAARwA/7iiyffplf7U0rhN_DUjahiZHB-V81NrhwCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cm1zckHgj3c/VxfIusaCuBI/AAAAAAAARwA/7iiyffplf7U0rhN_DUjahiZHB-V81NrhwCLcB/s400/Giveaway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eGalley of un/FAIR.
International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-55144033173902681592016-04-15T00:00:00.000-06:002016-04-15T00:00:04.635-06:00Cover reveal of Caroline Patti's Into the Light #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AWsY-lzOsc/Vw6aJ5r0m_I/AAAAAAAARqc/jkhhtL-K_O4WTu-JPIAWb4_jXRiOriS5gCLcB/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AWsY-lzOsc/Vw6aJ5r0m_I/AAAAAAAARqc/jkhhtL-K_O4WTu-JPIAWb4_jXRiOriS5gCLcB/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Caroline T. Patti and Month9Books
are revealing the cover for INTO THE LIGHT, book 2 in the
INTO THE DARK Series! Which releases July 26, 2016! Check out the gorgeous
cover and enter to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Into the Light is the continuation of Mercy's
journey with Nathaniel's backstory mixed in. Readers will learn the history of
breaching while Mercy engages in the fight of her life. What draws me to the cover
are the colors. The palette is appealing and I love how it all swirls together
because it perfectly captures how Mercy's two lives, one as a human and one as
a Breacher, are intertwined.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y8RtSgRCsY0/Vw6bZGlnbTI/AAAAAAAARqw/3LIvU55hmhg1SvKmr9gvhNrmS2oVpPtygCLcB/s1600/INTO%2BTHE%2BLIGHT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y8RtSgRCsY0/Vw6bZGlnbTI/AAAAAAAARqw/3LIvU55hmhg1SvKmr9gvhNrmS2oVpPtygCLcB/s640/INTO%2BTHE%2BLIGHT.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> INTO
THE LIGHT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Caroline T. Patti<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> July 26, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback & eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/23vjKyF"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
| </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/into-the-light-caroline-t-patti/1123486516?ean=9781942664444"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">B&N</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
| </span><a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/In-the-Light-Caroline-T-Patti/9781942664444?ref=grid-view"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">TBD</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28537177-into-the-light"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Mercy’s family is back together and the
threat of danger appears to have passed. But any relief she feels is short
lived as she is ripped from her body and thrown in jail. Gage and Nathaniel’s
plans to break Mercy out won’t exactly be easy. Stuffed full of a chemical
binding agent, Mercy is trapped inside the body of a convict without the
ability to breach and set herself free. Unfortunately for Mercy, being trapped
in jail becomes the least of her problems when she meets her evil twin,
Justice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Caroline T Patti is the author of The
World Spins Madly On and Too Late To Apologize. When she’s not writing, she’s a
school librarian, mother of two, wife, avid reader and Green Bay Packer fan.
You can chat with her on Twitter: @carepatti or find her onFacebook.<br />
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<a href="https://twitter.com/carepatti">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Caroline-T-Patti/33592507779">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://instagram.com/carepatti/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1958660.Caroline_Patti">Goodreads</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yQc7Ab6gL5U/Vw6aLL1I7nI/AAAAAAAARqk/EvRM1VGaM48KMjzVjc9jM_JhiUuj5PGywCLcB/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yQc7Ab6gL5U/Vw6aLL1I7nI/AAAAAAAARqk/EvRM1VGaM48KMjzVjc9jM_JhiUuj5PGywCLcB/s400/Giveaway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eBook of INTO
THE LIGHT & an eGalley of INTO THE DARK. International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-35080034654750088572016-04-08T00:00:00.000-06:002016-04-08T00:00:37.251-06:00Chapter reveal - Hair in all the Wrong Places by Andres Buckley #ya #paranormal #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
LOVE, LOVE the teaser for this book! Check out the first chapter!</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FfVsvAm8yQc/VwVfcrzzntI/AAAAAAAARns/yIE_BCw8gSAq9eApZPz0thr_dWyXfqFIw/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FfVsvAm8yQc/VwVfcrzzntI/AAAAAAAARns/yIE_BCw8gSAq9eApZPz0thr_dWyXfqFIw/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M8LbnRjN48A/VwVfjobT-XI/AAAAAAAARn4/E4x1iwD6dc4EBd8YM63RYnEjIqDxCfPVA/s1600/Hair%2BIn%2BAll%2BThe%2BWrong%2BPlaces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M8LbnRjN48A/VwVfjobT-XI/AAAAAAAARn4/E4x1iwD6dc4EBd8YM63RYnEjIqDxCfPVA/s640/Hair%2BIn%2BAll%2BThe%2BWrong%2BPlaces.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Andrew Buckley and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES! Which
releases June 7, 2016! Check out the awesome cover and enter to be one of the
first readers to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Hair in All the Wrong Places is the result of a
misspent childhood watching late night movies about werewolves and other
creatures that go bump in the night. The story follows Colin Strauss; an
outsider in the small town of Elkwood who, in addition to dealing with the
struggles of puberty, also finds himself being turned into a werewolf. As if
dealing with homework, bullies, and an unrealistic crush on the hot goth girl
wasn’t enough! I love this cover because it perfectly captures Colin’s
character and his discovery that he might indeed be growing hair in all the
wrong places.</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> HAIR IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Andrew
Buckley<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> June 7, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1RYf5Nf"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hair-in-all-the-wrong-places-andrew-buckley/1123486613?ean=9781942664987"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">B&N</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">
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Play Books</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/hair-in-all-the-wrong-places/id1095766038?mt=11">iBooks</a>
| </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29362931-hair-in-all-the-wrong-places"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">What has he done? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">What's happening to
him? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">And what on Earth is that smell?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">For Colin Strauss, puberty stinks.
Blackouts, hallucinations, and lapses in memory are the perils of growing up
werewolf. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Worse than that, Colin worries he might
have had something to do with the recent attacks on townspeople. He may have
eaten a person. It doesn’t matter that it’s someone he doesn’t particularly
like. What kind of boy goes around eating people?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Foolishly, all Colin can think about is
how Becca Emerson finally kissed him for the first time. Yep. Hormones are
afoot. Or at hand. Yikes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But girls will have to wait. Collin
better get himself under control before someone else ends up hurt . . . or
worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="border: 2px dotted #66525e; height: 400px; overflow: auto; width: 600px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Excerpt</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
First, a word of warning …
<br />
<br />
I don’t want to get too scientific here, but there are a few things you should know before you sink your teeth into this book. I’ve tried to keep it simple enough that anyone twelve and up could read and understand it. Werewolves were everywhere in Europe in the late sixteenth century. Go to a party, there would be a werewolf. Go to work, you’re probably working next to a werewolf. Bump into a stranger on the street—werewolf!
<br />
<br />
They were slowly killed off in Europe as the true nature of a werewolf is a terribly hard thing to control. Eventually you get that urge to eat someone. And let’s face it; eating people is just rude.
<br />
<br />
Now here’s the scary bit, the bit that concerns you. While werewolves ceased to be a part of the world, they didn’t necessarily leave it. On the contrary, humans evolved to repress the werewolf gene out of the fear they would be decapitated, shot with a silver bullet, burned alive, or a terrifying combination of all three. What this means is that every single human being is still carrying the werewolf gene. You, right now, sitting right where you are, has the werewolf gene swimming around somewhere inside of you.
<br />
<br />
Genes are strings of DNA. DNA makes you who you are. You have that werewolf gene inside you. It’s just not active. Not yet.
<br />
<br />
To fully activate that werewolf gene, you’d have to be bitten by another werewolf, someone who turns into a giant wolf-like creature when there’s a full moon. So fear not! As long as no one has bitten you recently, you’re likely okay.
<br />
<br />
So why this warning? You’re probably thinking there’s no chance I’ll turn into a werewolf because I haven’t been bitten. That is absolutely true. However, while it’s impossible to turn into a werewolf unless you’re bitten, it is very possible to awaken that sleeping werewolf gene by learning too much about them. This book will teach you a lot about those hairy creatures of the night, so I want you to be extra careful while reading it.
<br />
<br />
If you notice any of the following things, stop reading immediately:
<br />
<br />
- You find yourself looking at other humans and thinking lunch.
<br />
<br />
- You start to notice smells you never smelled before.
<br />
<br />
- You growl at people instead of talking to them.
<br />
<br />
- Your nails begin to grow at an alarming rate.
<br />
<br />
- You scratch your head in public using your leg.
<br />
<br />
- You greet your friends at the bus stop by sniffing their butts.
<br />
<br />
- You begin to grow hair in all the wrong places.
<br />
<br />
You’ve been warned.
<br />
<br />
Chapter One
Loser
<br />
<br />
Colin looked directly into the reflection staring back at him from the bathroom mirror and with absolute conviction said, “You are a loser.”
<br />
<br />
His reflection agreed.
<br />
<br />
Much as he had done almost every day for the last year, Colin evaluated his body. He was tall for a thirteen year old, with lanky limbs and broad pointy shoulders that bordered on skeletal. His face looked to be at odds with the rest of his body with its gaunt features and perpetually dark circles beneath the eyes. Pale skin stood in stark opposition to his unruly dark and stringy hair. Trying to sharpen his vision, he squinted before fumbling with his glasses.
<br />
<br />
His reflection didn’t look any better with them on.
<br />
<br />
After drying off, Colin got dressed and headed downstairs.
<br />
<br />
“Why are you dressed like that?” snapped his grandmother from her usual place in front of the TV. She hadn’t even looked at him yet, not that it mattered. Colin didn’t know what was more disturbing: that despite his grandmother being completely blind, she still watched TV religiously and commented on his clothes every day, or that he still felt the need to defend his choice of clothing to her. He was wearing jeans and an oversized hoody.
<br />
<br />
“It’s school today, Grandmother. I’m dressed for school,” he murmured.
<br />
<br />
“I know that!” she spat.
<br />
<br />
Nothing wrong with her hearing, though.
<br />
<br />
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
<br />
<br />
His grandmother sipped tea from a china cup. “I can take care of myself, you little ingrate. Get to school. You’re going to be late. If you don’t get an education, I’ll never get your lazy butt out of here.”
<br />
<br />
There was no point in arguing.
<br />
<br />
“And comb your hair before leaving the house. I don’t want people thinking I’m raising a hobo!” she said.
<br />
<br />
As Colin walked past the living room, his grandmother turned around in her chair and stared in his general direction with gray eyes damaged irreparably by cataracts. Blind eyes followed him as he walked to the door as quickly as he was able. It wasn’t until he was outside with the door firmly closed behind him that he allowed himself to breathe again.
<br />
<br />
Colin’s grandmother had always terrified him. He couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t blind or cruel. Colin’s parents lived in Seattle and over the past thirteen years had managed to have as little to do with their only son as humanly possible. They were young when his mother had discovered she was pregnant, and the following nine months had put a severe dent in their career plans. They were both up-and-coming lawyers at large firms, and as soon as they could be rid of Colin, they’d passed him off from one distant relative to another. Beyond that, they had no parental aspirations whatsoever.
<br />
<br />
Just over a year ago, after a short stint living with an uncle and aunt in Ohio, Colin had been sent to the small town of Elkwood to live with his only living close relative—his grandmother, Beatrice Strauss.
<br />
<br />
She hadn’t welcomed him, there were no hugs, no loving relationship, just a bitter old woman who spent most of her days parked in front of the TV and commenting on what a disappointment Colin was. He’d tried to help her, but she never wanted it. Despite being blind, she was more than able to get around and take care of herself. The only time she left the house was to attend the monthly town hall meetings to which he was never invited.
<br />
<br />
Colin was twenty feet from the bus stop when the school bus flew by. The mocking grins of students plastered the bus’s back window as it disappeared over the hill. Thankfully, the school was centrally located, which meant he’d be only slightly late.
<br />
<br />
On his way to school, Colin passed Mrs. Flipple, a kind old lady who walked her tiny, yappy dog, Jinx, each morning, rain or shine. As per usual, Jinx went straight for Colin, yapping in that high-pitched bark that only small, irritating dogs can make. Colin nodded politely to the old lady and held on to a secret hatred for that little dog.
<br />
<br />
The town was always overcast, and it rained almost every day of the year, which suited Colin’s depressed personality. He was thankful he didn’t live in a warmer climate as he’d have a much harder time being pale and awkward.
<br />
<br />
He’d survived the seventh grade at Elkwood School with above-average grades and a below-average number of friends. He was still considered a stranger here. His lack of personality, athleticism, and sense of humor didn’t help in the slightest. He wasn’t handsome enough to be popular or ugly enough to be ignored. He was just weird enough that students could be heard wondering aloud about him as he walked by. Now in the second week of his eighth grade year, Colin had one sort of friend, one unrealistic crush, and was the constant focus of several bullies who were determined to make his life miserable.
<br />
<br />
Loser.
<br />
<br />
He reached Elkwood School just as the second bell rang to indicate the start of classes. On average, each grade at the school contained only twenty to thirty students, and because of a limited number of teachers, some classes taught more than one grade or subject.
<br />
<br />
As Colin ran up the steps to the main entrance, a dark, looming shape confronted him. He looked up into the face of Principal Hebert.
<br />
<br />
“You’re late again, Mr. Strauss.” His voice sounded like rumbling thunder.
<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hebert. I missed the bus.”
<br />
<br />
“While I admire your use of a classical excuse, I’d prefer if you’d made an attempt at originality. Had you been more creative, I would not feel the need to place you in detention.”
<br />
<br />
“I’m really sor—”
<br />
<br />
“But as you’re still trying to apologize rather than give me something interesting to work with, I’ll be seeing you after school.”
<br />
<br />
Colin studied his feet carefully. “Yes, sir.”
<br />
<br />
“Run along.” Mr. Hebert gestured, pushing his hand ahead of him in a forward motion.
<br />
<br />
Colin made his way into the building and chanced a glance back to see Principal Hebert slowly shaking his head. Hebert was a former marine and rumored war hero who had retired to Elkwood almost ten years ago and although he had absolutely no qualifications had been appointed as the school principal. He was a massive hulk of a man with the sort of physique that suggested he could bend large metal things with his bare hands. Principal Hebert was a firm believer in detention and hard work and often liked to combine the two. Most detentions involved cleaning something. Colin made a mental note that his day was not off to a rip-roaring start.
<br />
<br />
Can’t get any worse.
<br />
<br />
Colin’s day quickly got worse.
<br />
<br />
He moved down an empty corridor, his sneakers squeaking loudly on the clean laminate flooring before entering the last classroom on the right.
<br />
<br />
The entire class turned to look at him. Some groaned, others laughed, a few smirked. Mrs. Davenport was the substitute teacher again today for Biology, and she greeted him with a warm smile.
<br />
<br />
“Good morning, Colin. Please take a seat. We were just getting started.”
<br />
<br />
Colin shuffled over to his seat next to Jeremy Rodson, the only person in Elkwood Colin could refer to as a friend. Everyone liked Jeremy even though he had never really joined one particular group. He played on the basketball team, so the jocks liked him. He was smart and maintained decent grades, so he was accepted by the smart kids. He was a good actor, so the creative types liked him. Colin had met him on his first day, and Jeremy had introduced him to the school. With so many commitments, Jeremy wasn’t always around, so Colin was still forced to maintain his unhappy, loner lifestyle.
<br />
<br />
“No Mr. Winter again?” Colin asked quietly.
<br />
<br />
“Apparently he’s sick,” said Jeremy and grinned. “Why are you so late?”
<br />
<br />
“Missed the bus.”
<br />
<br />
“Detention again?”
<br />
<br />
“Yup.”
<br />
<br />
“Pay attention, boys,” said Mrs. Davenport with a smile. She was flipping through a PowerPoint presentation about pheromones.
<br />
<br />
As the only substitute teacher in the small Elkwood School, Mrs. Davenport was never short of work. She was also the kindest teacher that Colin had ever encountered. Her presence had a calming effect on the students that Mr. Winter could never manage.
<br />
<br />
Mr. Winter was a jerk. It wasn’t just Colin’s opinion but more of a collective agreement throughout the entire school, including the teachers. An uptight individual in his late thirties, he had a particular hatred for students, teaching, other teachers, and did I mention, students? A few years ago, Mr. Winter’s entire family—wife, parents, grandparents—had been killed in a car accident, and rumor had it that the insurance settlement had been sizeable. The rumor quickly proved true when Mr. Winter started travelling the better part of the school year.
<br />
<br />
“Pheromones indicate the availability of a female for breeding.” Mrs. Davenport was met with a round of sniggers. “Well, it’s true,” she said calmly. “All animals excrete pheromones, and they can indicate a variety of things. Anything from sex to marking territory, and it can even act as a defense mechanism.”
<br />
<br />
“Colin, you should get yourself some pheromones,” said Gareth Dugan from behind a textbook. His cronies laughed in honor of their leader’s display of wit.
<br />
<br />
Gareth was a bully with scraggly hair and a troubled complexion. Having been raised on a farm on the outskirts of Elkwood, Gareth had always struck Colin as being quite large for his age. Gareth didn’t like Colin, but then, the feeling was mutual.
<br />
<br />
“Why would I need pheromones?” shot back Colin. “Your smell already overpowers everything in the room.”
<br />
<br />
That probably wasn’t smart.’
<br />
<br />
The entire room agreed with him by sitting in absolute silence.
<br />
<br />
“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Davenport and cheerfully continued to describe other chemical factors that trigger social responses.
<br />
<br />
Colin dared a glance back to see Gareth glaring at him like a lion eyeing an injured antelope.
<br />
<br />
Gareth would inevitably seek revenge. Colin didn’t need a chemical factor to trigger a social response. All he had to do was open his mouth.
<br />
<br />
He tried his best to concentrate on his textbook, opened at random, but his thoughts remained fixed on how to save himself a beating Jeremy, who remained happily oblivious and completely free of any such dealings, leaned over enthusiastically.
<br />
<br />
“Did you take a look at Tori yet? Classic Tori outfit.” He grinned and subtly tilted his head backward. Having developed earlier than any other girl in school, Tori was the blond bombshell of Elkwood. Okay, she was more like a small nuclear explosion. To aid the raging hormones of teenage boys, she made a habit of wearing low-cut shirts complimented by extremely short skirts.
<br />
<br />
Mrs. Davenport turned to the whiteboard, and Colin glanced back three rows on the right to see Tori conveniently perched on the edge of her stool wearing a short powder-blue skirt and knee-high boots.
<br />
<br />
Colin’s eyes followed the curves of her body upward until he realized she was looking directly at him with a wry smile. He blushed instantly, but the awkward moment was suddenly interrupted as a textbook smashed into the side of his head, sending his glasses skittering across the desk and onto the floor.
<br />
<br />
The class laughed as Colin slipped from his stool and crawled around in front of the desk, searching for his glasses.
<br />
<br />
Mrs. Davenport whirled around, spied Colin on the floor, and asked, “What was that? Colin, what are you doing?”
<br />
<br />
“Sorry, Mrs. Davenport. Just looking for my glasses.”
<br />
<br />
The bell rang before any further interrogation could be made, and the class headed for the exit. Colin still couldn’t find his glasses.
<br />
<br />
Ironic. If I was wearing my glasses, I’d have no trouble finding them.
<br />
<br />
The side of his head was throbbing from where the textbook had struck him. No doubt Gareth or one of his minions to thank for that.
<br />
<br />
Colin stood and came face-to-face with Becca Emerson, his heartbeat doubling in speed.
<br />
<br />
“I found your glasses,” she said, handing them over.
<br />
<br />
“Uh, thanks, B-Becca.”
<br />
<br />
The rest of the class had cleared out. He put on his glasses, and she came into focus. Around his height with fiery red hair and pale skin, Becca displayed a standoffishness that made most people avoid her. She wasn’t developed like Tori, but neither were most cover models. Becca was a little like Jeremy in that she didn’t associate with any one group, but where he belonged to everyone, she tended to avoid all people. Her dad was some sort of government worker, which translated to “spy” to most middle schoolers.
<br />
<br />
Becca always wore dark makeup and dark clothes making her look paler than she actually was. She maintained high grades, avoided large groups, and Colin had loved her since he first saw her. It was, of course, a secret love because there was no way he could ever work up the nerve to do anything about it.
<br />
<br />
“Are you okay?” she asked.
<br />
<br />
Oh, that voice.
<br />
<br />
“Uh, yeah. Just another head wound. Probably won’t be the last.” He attempted a half-hearted grin.
<br />
<br />
They awkwardly stared at each other as Colin’s mind raced for something smart to say.
<br />
<br />
What do I say? You’re gorgeous? Want to share a slushee? Marry me?
<br />
<br />
“Okay, well have a good day,” said Becca, and left.
<br />
<br />
Smooth, Strauss. Very smooth.
<br />
<br />
Not the most suave guy at the best of times, Colin managed to be even less so around Becca. How would he ever be able to ask her out, let alone have an entire conversation with her if he didn’t even manage to open his mouth?
<br />
<br />
***
<br />
<br />
Having made it to last period unscathed, Colin was busy staring at Becca as the minutes on the clock clicked by while he planned his escape. He would have to move fast, get out of the school, and off the grounds. He’d skip the bus altogether—
<br />
<br />
“Wonder what Hebert’s going to have you do for detention today? My money is on cleaning the gym floor,” said Jeremy.
<br />
<br />
Detention!
<br />
<br />
“I’m so screwed.”
<br />
<br />
“It’s not that bad, just cleaning.”
<br />
<br />
“Not that,” groaned Colin. “Gareth got detention in third period.”
<br />
<br />
“Well at least you’ll have company,” said Jeremy unhelpfully.
<br />
<br />
The bell rang, and Colin’s heart skipped a beat.
<br />
<br />
“Just once Jer, just once I’d love to be as oblivious as you are.”
<br />
<br />
“You got detention today, Colin?” asked Becca.
<br />
<br />
Colin almost dropped his books. He hadn’t noticed her approach. “Uh, yeah. I was late today.”
<br />
<br />
“I know. I was there.”
<br />
<br />
“Right.”
<br />
<br />
“I was wondering if I could talk to you. Alone. I can walk you to your detention.”
<br />
<br />
“I’ve got to run anyway. Catch ya later.” And with that, Jeremy bounced off.
<br />
<br />
“Y-yeah, of course,” said Colin. This was new territory. Other than the occasional passing pleasantry, Colin had never had a full conversation with Becca. They walked down the south corridor toward the detention room at the back of the school.
<br />
<br />
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” said Becca without looking at him. “It must be strange to move here. Most people are born here these days.”
<br />
<br />
“Uh, yeah, I’ve heard that. No one ever moves to Elkwood.”
<br />
<br />
“The people here aren’t open-minded. They only know what they know. And who they know. This probably isn’t making any sense.”
<br />
<br />
“No. I mean, yeah. Well. No, no it’s not.”
<br />
<br />
Becca turned to him. Her eyes were a deep hazel color, he’d never noticed before. She put a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly his insides were on fire. It was only a moment, but Colin felt as if she was looking through him.
<br />
<br />
Colin was way beyond his comfort zone and didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to say something? Did she want him to kiss her? Or was he misunderstanding her? When it came to reading girls, he was dyslexic. On the flipside, Becca Emerson was actually touching him! With her actual hand! But then she took her hand away and for a moment looked sad.
<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, Colin. I thought maybe … but no.” She sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see things clearly here.”
<br />
<br />
Colin had no idea what she was talking about; he was still reeling from her touch and for once actually managed to say something. “Maybe you could help me?”
<br />
<br />
Did I just say that?
<br />
<br />
What was he thinking?
<br />
<br />
“I have to go. My dad will wonder where I am. Good luck in detention.”
<br />
<br />
And just like that, she was gone.
<br />
<br />
The ominous voice of Principal Hebert floated down the hallway. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Strauss. Are you going to just stand there, or do I need to drag you into detention?”
<br />
<br />
Colin entered the room, noting the other attendees. Two students, Micah and Nathaniel Cross, otherwise known as the goth twins. They were pale with black tattoos, long black coats, tight black clothing, and permanent frowns plastered across their faces. Gareth sat with his feet up, smirking at Colin.
<br />
<br />
“Listen up,” began Principal Hebert. “You’re here because you did something or you didn’t do something. All I care about is what you do from here on out. Gareth and Colin, you’re on garbage cleanup. Nathaniel and Micah, you’ll be sweeping the gym floor. One hour, people, and then I expect you back for dismissal.”
<br />
<br />
Colin’s heart sank in his chest, down his legs, and through the floor. He was a dead man.
<br />
<br />
Gareth clapped his hands with false cheer. “All right, Colin, buddy. Let’s get to it!”
<br />
<br />
They grabbed a couple of garbage bags and headed outside. Without saying a word, Gareth just started picking up garbage. Colin, braced for an attack and watched him for a moment before hesitantly bending to the task too. ’It was getting dark, and the rain made the job all the more miserable.
<br />
<br />
After half an hour, Gareth had vanished around the other side of the building, and Colin began to think that maybe he had been worrying needlessly.
<br />
<br />
As he rounded a corner toward the back of the school, he saw his mistake. Sam Bale and Kevin Hadfield were sitting on one of the permanent picnic benches. They both looked menacing, as usual. Backtracking quickly, Colin turned and bumped into Gareth who shoved him.
<br />
<br />
“Where you going, buddy?” He spat that last word.
<br />
<br />
Colin dropped his garbage bag and backed right into Sam and Kevin, who were standing behind him.
<br />
<br />
“We don’t have to do this,” pleaded Colin.
<br />
<br />
“You don’t belong here, Colin,” said Gareth.
<br />
<br />
“I know. You’ve told me before.”
<br />
<br />
Gareth stabbed a finger to his chest. “And that smart mouth of yours really doesn’t belong here.”
<br />
<br />
“It’s attached to the rest of my body; I really don’t have a choice in the matter.”
<br />
<br />
Gareth faked a punch, and Colin flinched.
<br />
<br />
“Please, just tell me what to do,” begged Colin, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He’d been here before; he knew what was coming.
<br />
<br />
Kevin and Sam grabbed one of Colin’s arms while Gareth stood inches from his face. His breath stank. “I want you to go away. That’s all. You don’t belong here. Sooner or later you’ll get the message.”
<br />
<br />
Gareth punched him hard twice in the stomach and then once in the kidneys. Colin dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Sam and Kevin began kicking him and then stripped him down to his underwear until finally, they left. Colin lay sobbing on the cold ground, half-naked and in pain.
<br />
<br />
This had been Colin’s life for over a year. Feeling like he’d failed at life in general, Colin had been reduced to living in a state of constant fear and humiliation. He had suffered bullying and his grandmother’s hatred.
<br />
<br />
Colin knew he was a loser, but he hated that everyone else knew it too.
<br />
<br />
The only positive he could think of was Becca and the strange, brief conversation they had shared. He picked himself up, feeling his bruised ribs, wincing as he walked barefoot across the parking lot away from the school. Hebert would be angry that he didn’t return for the end of detention, but he didn’t care. He didn’t intend to come back. He had to do something or he was going to end up dying here in Elkwood.
<br />
<br />
Colin decided he had to go to Seattle to see his parents.
<br />
<br />
Tonight.
</div>
</div>
</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xonpMQWOXs4/VwVfqjEL3OI/AAAAAAAARn8/VW4Yyo1RiF0Wo8p1HosZSIrFUYtEzLkqg/s1600/Andrew%2BBuckley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xonpMQWOXs4/VwVfqjEL3OI/AAAAAAAARn8/VW4Yyo1RiF0Wo8p1HosZSIrFUYtEzLkqg/s320/Andrew%2BBuckley.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Andrew Buckley attended the Vancouver
Film School’s Writing for Film and Television program. After pitching and
developing several screenplay projects for film and television, he worked in
marketing and public relations, before becoming a professional copy and content
writer. During this time Andrew began writing his first adult novel, DEATH, THE
DEVIL AND THE GOLDFISH, followed closely by his second novel, STILTSKIN. He
works as an editor for Curiosity Quills Press. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Andrew also co-hosts a geek movie
podcast, is working on his next novel, and has a stunning amount of other
ideas. He now lives happily in the Okanagan Valley, BC with three kids, one
cat, one needy dog, one beautiful wife, and a multitude of characters that live
comfortably inside of his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Andrew is represented by Mark Gottlieb
at the Trident Media Group.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.andrewbuckleyauthor.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/abuckley23">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/andrew.buckley.35">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6644114.Andrew_Buckley">Goodreads</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jmbcIIQXFjA/VwVfd2PI4mI/AAAAAAAARn0/sGJ7YYSWk-IwV8M88OfL5QmTS174Yk7dw/s1600/Giveaway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jmbcIIQXFjA/VwVfd2PI4mI/AAAAAAAARn0/sGJ7YYSWk-IwV8M88OfL5QmTS174Yk7dw/s400/Giveaway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eGalley of HAIR
IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES. International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2439" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2439/" id="rcwidget_dlqg5kps" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-39321709732651138612016-04-01T00:00:00.000-06:002016-04-01T00:00:12.592-06:00Cover & chapter reveal of Argos by Philip Simpson with #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S2tOE3-QGf8/VvwnSeyeuRI/AAAAAAAARjI/x8myMPw3h-c1Pr8McGrWWdPrH8OvnEogg/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S2tOE3-QGf8/VvwnSeyeuRI/AAAAAAAARjI/x8myMPw3h-c1Pr8McGrWWdPrH8OvnEogg/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Philip W. Simpson and Month9Books
are revealing the cover and first chapter for ARGOS! Which releases May 10,
2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to
receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">This was a labor of love for me. I have always
loved dogs and stories of dog's courage and loyalty. Hearing or reading these
never fail to make me cry. Particularly stories of dogs like Grey Friar's bobby
and Hachiko. And then there's the story of Argos - probably the most famous and
loyal dog of all time. In Homer's Odyssey, there's literally only one page
dedicated to the death of Argos and for me, it was the most moving scene in the
whole book. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I had to write this book, not only for myself
but for all the dogs I've loved throughout my life. I had no choice in the
matter.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I love this cover because it's evocative and
moody (much like the cover to my last book, Minotaur). It also begs certain
questions: why is a dog in a boat being rowed across a river by a heavily
cowled boatman? Those who are familiar with the classics will know the boatman
is Charon and the river is the Styx. Therefore the dog is in Hades. But why? A
dog has no place in Hades so what makes Argos so special? I love covers that
make the reader ask these types of questions.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VSL0THui_o4/VvwnZWZVG0I/AAAAAAAARjU/ZSJ8pktqIColsfSftCQuQiRQvQn25Vvug/s1600/ARGOS%2BEbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VSL0THui_o4/VvwnZWZVG0I/AAAAAAAARjU/ZSJ8pktqIColsfSftCQuQiRQvQn25Vvug/s640/ARGOS%2BEbook.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> ARGOS</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Phillip
W. Simpson<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> May 10, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1RyIlrp"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/argos-phillip-w-simpson/1123603124?ean=9780996890434">B&N</a>
| <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Argos-Phillip-W-Simpson/9780996890434?ref=grid-view">TBD</a>
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28537159-argos?from_new_nav=true&ac=1&from_search=true"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Loyalty has no limits<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Raised from a pup by Greek hero,
Odysseus, Argos has come to learn the true meaning of love and loyalty. But
when Odysseus leaves for the Trojan War, little does Argos know it will be 20 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">years before he sees his master again.
With Odysseus gone his wife, Penelope, and son, Telemachus, are easy prey for
neighboring kings and the Gods themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">But Argos was tasked to keep them safe
until Odysseus returns and that is a promise he is <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">determined to keep – whatever the cost.
Told through his eyes, Argos recounts the story of his <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">life – his pain, his joy, his triumphs
and failures; his endurance in the face of hardships almost too great to
believe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Above all else, Argos strives to do what
is right – and to remain loyal to his King when all others have given up hope.
To live long enough to see his beloved master one more time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">This epic myth of love and loyalty
proves that a dog really is man's best friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Excerpt</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Prologue
<br />
<br />
So this is what it’s like to die?
<br />
<br />
I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly isn’t this slow humiliating descent into darkness. My body aches, bruised by the fists and feet of Penelope’s suitors and servants, joints painfully swollen by age.
<br />
<br />
Flies swarm around me, attracted by the stench of the manure pile beneath me, or perhaps sensing the death that is slowly creeping toward me. If I am honest, they don’t annoy me so much. My vision is cloudy at best, eyes misted over by the onset of time. I can barely see their dark flickering shapes and I haven’t the strength to dislodge them when they land. To try and maintain a little dignity, I make the odd attempt to flick my tail or ears but both the flies and I know my heart isn’t in it.
<br />
<br />
Two old men walk past, leading an ox and open wagon through the palace gates. I lift my head slightly in an effort to see them better, more out of habit than any great interest. I sniff the air, trying to gauge what is in the wagon. All I can smell is feces. My sense of smell, almost overcome by what lies beneath me, fails, and I silently curse my aging, traitorous senses. If I had to guess, I would say they are farmers, bringing produce for the palace kitchens, probably to feed the greedy, slovenly mouths of the suitors who buzz around Penelope much like the flies above my dying body.
<br />
<br />
The two old men spare me a glance. Although my eyes are not what they once were, I detect sympathy in their gazes. Perhaps they recognize me for who I am or who I once was. Or perhaps not. Maybe they just see an old dog dying on a steaming pile of manure.
<br />
<br />
Hours later, two other men pass by, dressed in finery that makes them anything but farm hands. I recognize their faces but I would know them regardless by their swagger. Two of Penelope’s suitors come to steal another man’s wife. I hate them with every ounce of my being. If I were even five years younger, I would launch myself at them and tear their arms and legs off with great bites of my powerful jaws. But I am not five years younger. I am old and incapable of doing anything but glare at them balefully.
<br />
<br />
Like the two older men earlier, they look in my direction. One of them says something I can’t quite catch to the other and they both laugh. The taller suitor reaches into a pouch at his side and pulls out an object that he throws in my direction. It lands off the manure pile, well out of paw reach. I suspect it is a piece of dried meat.
<br />
<br />
“Here,” he says, laughing. “Eat this. If you can.”
<br />
<br />
His companion joins in the laughter and they disappear through the palace gates knowing full well that I will not be able to reach the tasty morsel. I wouldn’t eat it in any case. I would much rather starve to death than receive salvation from the likes of them.
<br />
<br />
Directly overhead, the sun beats mercilessly down. Waves of heat wash over me and warms the manure pile even more. The pile of droppings from mules and oxen are a mixed blessing. For the last two nights, my bed of filth has kept me warm and soothed my aching joints. During the day, however, things are altogether different. The heat is stifling, unbearable, and even I, well accustomed to the most repulsive of scents, am sickened.
<br />
<br />
My tongue lolls slackly from my open mouth. It is almost too much effort to pant but I know that if I do not, I will die from the relentless heat. I am no longer hungry but would give almost anything for a bowl of cool water with which to quench my thirst. Perhaps even a tub that I could plunge my whole body into—something I would never have done as a young pup. All my life, I have avoided baths, but now I am driven almost crazy by the thought of indulging in something I once hated.
<br />
<br />
A bath would have an additional benefit. The fleas and ticks that infest my body would probably decide that my scrawny carcass isn’t worth the effort and depart for more luxurious quarters. I would not miss them. The flies I can tolerate, but the incessant biting of these degenerate little creatures is almost more than I can bear. If I had the strength, I would obliterate them with mighty paw strokes.
<br />
<br />
When I was younger, Penelope or Telemachus would sometimes gently comb them from my body while I lay before the fire in the great hall of Odysseus. Just the thought of such times sends a pleasurable tremor coursing through my body.
<br />
<br />
I daydream about what they would do if they knew I was lying here, dying and surrounded by filth and decay. Penelope would gather my head into her soft hands and gently kiss my forehead. Telemachus, my human brother, would hug me and rub salves into my open wounds. Together, they would ease my pain and comfort me like they have many times throughout my life.
<br />
<br />
But those times are long gone. Penelope is locked in her rooms in the palace of Ithaca, besieged by unwelcome suitors. Telemachus left the island months ago to seek out his father, my master, the great hero Odysseus. It is probably a futile quest. Odysseus has been gone for twenty years and, if the words of the palace staff are to be believed, long dead. But neither I nor Telemachus believe it, cannot bring ourselves to believe it. I have heard from the gods themselves that he lives, and whilst they like to play with the lives of mortals, I want to believe them. A man like Odysseus does not simply just die. He is destined for more than death.
<br />
<br />
It is he that keeps my soul harnessed to my body. The loyalty toward my master and a forlorn hope that he will return to me before I am claimed by death. All of my contemporaries have been in the grave for years already. Not me. It is this loyalty and hope that has kept me going for twenty years.
<br />
<br />
What I would give to see him one last time.
<br />
<br />
Chapter One
<br />
<br />
I awake only to discover that I have died. I am surrounded by gloomy silence. The landscape is devoid of features—or color for that matter. Mist washes over me, tendrils swirling together to form almost recognizable shapes and figures. I can hear whispered voices but from which direction they come, I’m not sure.
<br />
<br />
I know where I am of course. Hades. The Underworld. The halls of the dead. It makes sense that I am here and yet it does not. The last thing I remembered was lying dying on the manure pile outside the palace gates. Clearly, my body had given up its futile quest for life and so here I am.
<br />
<br />
But that doesn’t ring true. As far as I know, the Underworld is the place where the souls of the dead dwell. The human dead. The souls of other creatures do not find their rest here. Dogs certainly aren’t allowed in—at least I had never heard of any dogs being granted the privilege. I had heard the stories of the heroes who had ventured into the Underworld before their time: Aeneas, Cupid and Psyche, Heracles, Pirithous and Theseus. Not one of them mentioned encountering any dogs.
<br />
<br />
Perhaps I am going to be the first. But why single me out for this singular honor, if honor is indeed what it is? I have done nothing special. Like most dogs, I have devoted myself and my life to my master. I don’t believe that is so unusual.
<br />
<br />
A thought occurs to me: maybe I’m not in the Underworld after all. Perhaps I’m dreaming. As dreams go, it’s pretty bland. I console myself in the knowledge that it is still better than reality, where I have to face endless torment from fleas and ticks.
<br />
<br />
I choose a direction at random and start walking. I have no destination in mind and no goal. It is simply something to do. Padding along comfortably, it is then that I notice something unusual about my body. When I had last seen my own scrawny flesh, it looked nothing like this. My fur is healthy and clean. Clean! My muscles feel strong, nothing like the wasted bag of old bones I had been moments before. I am young again! What joy!
<br />
<br />
I take some time to experience the true thrill of youth, to leap and bound, and spring lightly. It is a heady sensation. The gods only know how long I do this for. It’s hard to keep track of time in this place but I don’t care—I’m too busy enjoying myself. After some time however, I gradually become aware that someone or something is watching me. Unbidden, my hackles and the fur on the back of my neck rise. A growl rumbles deep in my chest and emerges through barred teeth.
<br />
<br />
The mist clears and a boat materializes before me, bobbing calmly on a river as black as night. A figure stands on the boat, shrouded in a black cowl, taller than any human. He carries a long pole which he uses to halt his progress against the swift current.
<br />
<br />
A long finger emerges from the black sleeves and beckons toward me. I don’t move. I can’t move, frozen as I am in fear. I know who this is and I dare not approach.
<br />
<br />
The figure cocks his head at me as if considering. Then he whistles. It is the same two-tone whistle used by countless dog owners. Against my will, my traitorous tail wags and I take first one hesitant step forward and then another. Before I know it, I am standing on the shore next to the boat and the boatman.
<br />
<br />
“Pay your fare,” demands a sepulchral voice drifting out of the black cowl. A hand emerges again from the sleeve. This time I get a good look at it. It is twice as large as any human’s, but with six fingers. The flesh enclosing the bones appears to be rotting.
<br />
<br />
I don’t bother trying to respond. It’s not like I can speak and tell him I have no fare. I believe it is customary to pay a coin to cross the river Acheron—because this of course is what it is. One of the legendary rivers of the Underworld, it marks the boundary of Hades. The only way in or out is across the river and the only way to cross the river is in the boat controlled by Charon, the boatman.
<br />
<br />
To gain passage, relatives of the recently deceased have to place a coin in the mouths of the dead. I have seen this done many times before, but I have no coin myself. Just to be sure, I open my mouth to check. Sure enough, I feel nothing on my tongue.
<br />
<br />
Charon cocks his head again. He seems to be listening to something, but even I, with my magnificent hearing, can detect nothing.
<br />
<br />
“Very well,” he says, seeming to talk to himself. He indicates that I am to enter the boat and obediently, I do exactly that, even though every part of my body screams at me to flee. I have always struggled to resist going for a ride in any form of moving vehicle, be it chariot, cart or boat.
<br />
<br />
Charon says nothing as he poles us slowly across the river. The Acheron flows into another river, which I assume is the Styx. Unable to resist the impulse, I sit perched in the bow, my tongue wagging, sniffing the warm breeze. I detect nothing I recognize.
<br />
<br />
Eventually, we reach the far shore. I don’t have to be told to get out. I leap out as soon as I am able which is just as well because no sooner have I done so, Charon turns the boat and heads back the way he had come.
<br />
<br />
There is a darker line of shadow on the horizon before me, and with no better prospects, I make for it. As I get closer, I recognize it for what it is. A huge inky black gate made of some material I am not familiar with. Two huge doors are set within but it is not these objects that command my attention.
<br />
<br />
Sitting calmly before the doors is a creature the likes of which I have never seen before. It is a massive dog. It isn’t just size that marks it as unusual. This dog has three heads, a serpent’s tail, and a mane of snakes that weave angrily in and out of the coarse black hair that covers the rest of the creature. Each huge paw is tipped with long claws that bear no resemblance to my own. These claws look like they could shred tree trunks.
<br />
<br />
I know immediately who it is. Cerberus. The great guardian of the gates of Hell. It is his job to ensure that none of the denizens of this place ever leave.
<br />
<br />
One of the heads swivels in my direction. I meet the gaze of those blood red eyes with rising panic.
<br />
<br />
“Be calm, Argos,” says Cerberus in a voice like smoke and thunder. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
<br />
<br />
“Your appearance certainly belies that,” I say in my head. When I was younger, I had tried to speak but quickly realized that I didn’t possess the clever tongue or vocal apparatus possessed by humans. My habit then had been to reply to rhetorical questions in my own mind. You can imagine my surprise when Cerberus gives every appearance of not only hearing me, but understanding me, too.
<br />
<br />
The central head of the huge Hellhound nods. “I realize that I appear quite fearsome, but it is mostly for show. Those who dwell here must stay. I could hardly stop them if I had the appearance and abilities of say, a common dog.”
<br />
<br />
I swear to the gods that the speaking head seems to be smiling slightly. That’s if dogs can smile. I confess I have tried to smile many times, but all I have succeeded in doing is lolling my tongue.
<br />
<br />
“I don’t think I’d risk a confrontation with you,” I say.
<br />
<br />
“Really, Argos? I have heard tales of your bravery. I think there are many things you would risk. Especially for your master.” I notice that only one head speaks while the two heads flanking the central one move constantly, their baleful eyes seeking out any who would dare escape.
<br />
<br />
“You know of my master Odysseus then?” I ask.
<br />
<br />
The central head nods. “Of course. Odysseus is beloved of the gods—especially by the gray-eyed Goddess Athena. I have even heard my own master, Hades, speak highly of him. His deeds are legendary.”
<br />
<br />
“They are?” I ask, silently cursing myself for doubting this fact. Of course his deeds are legendary. The actions of my master could not be anything else. I just hadn’t heard of any of them. “So my master lives then?”
<br />
<br />
“It is not for me to say, Argos. I am sorry. Come closer. Do not be afraid.”
<br />
<br />
Tentatively, I do as Cerberus asks and trot toward him, stopping a few spear lengths away. My sense of perspective immediately changes and I sit down on my haunches in order to take in the enormity of it. The gate is taller than any structure I have ever seen. As for Cerberus, he towers over me, larger than any creature I have ever encountered. Larger even than a rhinoceros. A visitor to Ithaca once told Odysseus about a mythical creature called an elephant that he had seen in his travels. From his description, Cerberus must be at least equal in size.
<br />
<br />
As nervous as I am, curiosity gets the better of me. “Can I at least hear about these legendary deeds then?” I ask, wagging my tail hopefully.
<br />
<br />
“Perhaps another time,” says Cerberus. Eddies of smoke are slowly rising from his speaking mouth. “I have brought you here for another reason.”
<br />
<br />
“Other than the fact that I’m dead?” I ask.
<br />
<br />
“Are you?” counters Cerberus.
<br />
<br />
“Why else would I be here then?” I retort. A niggling doubt is starting to form. Maybe this is a dream after all.
<br />
<br />
“Let me ask you something, Argos. I have served my master, Hades, for millennia and will continue to do so for all of existence. Why do I do that?”
<br />
<br />
“For loyalty,” I say immediately. “For love.”
<br />
<br />
This time, Cerberus nods all three heads. “Indeed. I love my master. He is everything to me and he has repaid my loyalty countless times. I would do anything for him.”
<br />
<br />
“As would I for my master,” I say.
<br />
<br />
“And that is why you are here, Argos. You are an exceptional dog. You may not think so but I have watched you and I know. Your loyalty and your love for your master is exceptional. It compares even to my o<br />
<br />
wn.”
“So why am I here?” I ask, slightly confused.
<br />
<br />
“Because, I want to hear your story. I want to hear it told in your own words, to experience it from your perspective. I want to hear about everything you and Odysseus experienced together and what made your bond so strong. I want to know why you have waited twenty years for him. In short, I want to hear the story of your life.”
<br />
<br />
“Why?” I ask.
<br />
<br />
“Because,” says Cerberus, “I want to know that I’m not the only one. That I’m not the only one whose loyalty exceeds all expectation and belief.”
<br />
<br />
“And why should I do this for you?” I venture.
<br />
<br />
“You might be surprised if I told you,” says Cerberus.
<br />
<br />
The words send a shiver running down my spine.
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Phillip W. Simpson is the author of many
novels, chapter books and other stories for children. His publishers include
Month9books, Macmillan, Penguin, Pearson, Cengage, Raintree and Oxford
University Press.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">He received his undergraduate degree in
Ancient History and Archaeology and both his Masters (Hons) degree in
Archaeology and his Masters (Hons) degree in Creative Writing from the
University of Auckland. Before embarking on his writing career, he joined the
army as an officer cadet, owned a comic shop and worked in recruitment in both
the UK and Australia. His first young adult novel, Rapture (Rapture Trilogy
#1), was shortlisted for the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for best Youth novel in
2012. When not writing, he works as a school teacher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Phillip lives and writes in Auckland,
New Zealand, with his wife Rose, their son, Jack, and their two border terriers,
Whiskey and Raffles. He loves fishing, reading, movies, football (soccer) and
single malt Whiskeys. www.phillipwsimpson.com<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.phillipwsimpson.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/PhillipWSimpson">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PhillipWSimpson.Author">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5167118.Phillip_W_Simpson">Goodreads</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">1
winner will receive an eGalley of ARGOS. International.</span>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-27656175303105519752016-03-18T00:00:00.000-06:002016-03-18T00:00:17.561-06:00Chapter reveal for The Paladins by Julie Reece #ya #paranormal #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I loved the first book, so ready for this one!</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Julie Reece and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for THE PALADINS, book 2 in THE ARTISANS Series
which releases May 3, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of
the first readers to receive an eGalley and a eBook of THE ARTISANS!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Book covers are tricky things. My respect for
cover artists has grown exponentially after entering the world of publishing. I
learned the challenge of a good cover artist is to hint at the story beneath
using a single image. They must create a picture that suggests to perspective
readers what lies within those hundreds of pages—using nothing more than
specific font and a few square inches of graphic design. It seems impossible,
yet most of us agree that art evokes emotion. And when I saw my cover, I was overwhelmed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The Paladins is dark. And this cover is dark.
The story is a Gothic tale, mysterious and eerie. And while parts of this world
are beautiful, beauty is often deceptive. You’re never quite sure if something
lurks in the shadows, where the path you tread is leading, or even if what you
see is real … until it’s too late. For me, the cover encompasses all those
story elements. I hope you like it as much as I do.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> THE PALADINS (The Artisans #2)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Julie
Reece<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> May 3, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1M8hUfa"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-paladins-julie-reece/1123486106?ean=9780996890465">B&N</a>
|<a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/The-Palladins-Julie-Reece/9780996890465?ref=grid-view">
TBD</a> | <a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Paladins/Julie-Reece/9780996890465?id=6574638939822">BAM</a>
| <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-paladins">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Julie_Reece_The_Paladins?id=qYmrCwAAQBAJ">Google
Play Books</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-paladins/id1088487182?mt=11">iBooks</a>|
</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25757247-the-paladins?from_new_nav=true&ac=1&from_search=true"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The Artisan curse is broken. Souls
trapped in a mysterious otherworld called The Void are finally released. Now,
Raven Weathersby, Gideon Maddox, and Cole Wynter can finally move on with their
lives...or so they thought. If the ancient magic is truly dead, then why are
mystical fires plaguing Gideon at every turn? What accounts for Raven’s
frightening visions of her dead mother? And who is the beautiful, tortured girl
haunting Cole’s dreams?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Last year, a group of lonely teens
sacrificed secrets, battled the supernatural, and faced their own demons to set
one another free. Yet six months later, the heart of evil still beats within
The Void. And the trio is forced to face the horrific truth: that their only
way out is to go back in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">The Paladins completes this eerie YA
Southern Gothic where loyalties are tested, love is challenged, and evil seeks
them on the ultimate battlegrounds—in their minds, their souls, and their
hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In case you missed it here's the redesigned cover for THE ARTISANS!</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BAkvSBH60_k/VumvU9EQljI/AAAAAAAARYU/A3dBDvA-vxQBrLwqH-s-LgVsHHIDFx6xA/s1600/TheArtisans.Ebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BAkvSBH60_k/VumvU9EQljI/AAAAAAAARYU/A3dBDvA-vxQBrLwqH-s-LgVsHHIDFx6xA/s640/TheArtisans.Ebook.jpg" width="414" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Title: <b>THE ARTISANS</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Author: Julie Reece<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Pub. Date: May 12, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Publisher: Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Pages: 300<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Find it: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00UQYA06E/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00UQYA06E&linkCode=as2&tag=twchonbo-20&linkId=3N24AP5BXJFEPS7K">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-artisans-julie-reece/1121503478?ean=9780692337325">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-artisans/id1008893082?mt=11">iBooks</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21944665-the-artisans">Goodreads</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">They say death can be beautiful. But after the death of her mother, seventeen-year-old Raven Weathersby gives up her dream of becoming a fashion designer, barely surviving life in the South Carolina lowlands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">To make ends meet, Raven works after school as a seamstress creating stunning works of fashion that often rival the great names of the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Instead of making things easier on the high school senior, her stepdad's drinking leads to a run in with the highly reclusive heir to the Maddox family fortune, Gideon Maddox.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But Raven's stepdad's drying out and in no condition to attend the meeting with Maddox. So Raven volunteers to take his place and offers to repay the debt in order to keep the only father she's ever known out of jail, or worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Gideon Maddox agrees, outlining an outrageous demand: Raven must live in his home for a year while she designs for Maddox Industries' clothing line, signing over her creative rights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Her handsome young captor is arrogant and infuriating to the nth degree, and Raven can't imagine working for him, let alone sharing the same space for more than five minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">But nothing is ever as it seems. Is Gideon Maddox the monster the world believes him to be? And can he stand to let the young seamstress see him as he really is?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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Prologue
<br />
<br />
The Before
<br />
<br />
Cole
<br />
<br />
It’s been four years since I planted the fireworks in Gideon Maddox’s locker that burned a third of his face.
<br />
<br />
Four years since his father took revenge, trapping me with a spell that kept me prisoner in The Void.
<br />
<br />
Three months since the magic found me again.
<br />
<br />
Two months since my parents put me in therapy.
<br />
<br />
One day since my parents left for Paris on a month long business tour.
<br />
<br />
This morning, a mysterious girl no one else can see beckoned again from The Void.
<br />
<br />
Tonight, I’m standing on the balcony of my parent’s palatial home, buying an airline ticket back to the states—back to Maddox mansion—the heart of my nightmares.
<br />
<br />
People say the more things change the more they stay the same. I hate them for being right. I lived with the monsters in my prison until I thought I might go mad. Repentant of my past, I made peace with my fate, my eternity. Until the day I was freed, because a stranger had the courage to help.
<br />
<br />
This time someone needs me.
<br />
<br />
How can I doom a girl to a fate I barely escaped?
<br />
<br />
There’s only one answer.
<br />
<br />
I can’t.
<br />
<br />
Chapter One
<br />
<br />
Cole
<br />
<br />
A bottle-green fly hums, rubbing his tiny legs together as though he’s plotting something. The insect seems a dirty ornament on the shiny desk nameplate he sits upon. Gold on gold, the engraved letters read Navin Cahvan M.D. This is the third psychiatrist I’ve met in as many weeks. Part of my mother’s plan to fix me. Jumpy nerves, insomnia, nightmares about demons when I finally do fall sleep—these are her justifications. Everyone tries to shrink me like a cheap T-shirt in the dryer.
<br />
<br />
The tawny-skinned man across the desk folds his knotted fingers over his belly and stares. Dark eyes track my movements beneath two bushy white eyebrows. “Mr. Wynter?”
<br />
<br />
Right. He asked a question. The fly hums again, wings fluttering against his hairy back. My head pounds, my clothes scratch, eyes burn, and my ears are raw with the smallest sounds echoing deep inside.
<br />
<br />
When Dr. Cahvan shifts, the leather seat groans in protest. “I can help you. But you must tell me the truth.”
<br />
<br />
All I hear is Jack Nicholson screaming the line from A Few Good Men: “You can’t handle the truth!”
<br />
<br />
“Trust me, Cole. Tell me your secret thoughts.”
<br />
<br />
Trust you? Sure. I tell you what happened and you lock me away forever on meds that keep me drooling, while I play dominoes with people who see giant, pink rabbits. No thanks.
<br />
<br />
He leans forward. His fingers thread together as his hands rest on the desktop. He taps his thumbs together. “I assure you this is a safe place. I call it … the circle of trust.”
<br />
<br />
Give me a break. You want me to tell you how I was a mean, dangerous kid. Confess that because I tormented a crippled boy, his father used a magic camera to trap me in an alternate universe as punishment. Explain how I lived a half-life in the Maddox mansion for four years until Raven Weathersby rescued me. About how much I miss her and think about going back someday … Maybe I am insane.
“Let’s discuss something else.”
<br />
<br />
I find his suggestion amusing since I’ve barely said ten words in the past hour, and our time is almost up.
The good doctor shifts again. “Instead of talking about the past, why not speak of the present. How are you adjusting to life at home? I understand your parents had a welcome home party when you first arrived. How did that go?”
<br />
<br />
How do you think? “Swell.” I would have preferred stuffing my hand in a high-speed blender. A hundred people that I hadn’t seen since I was fifteen—and couldn’t care less to see again—showed up to shake my hand and recite all they’d ever read about amnesia, the lie Gideon made up to cover my absence. “I really just need some space.”
<br />
<br />
“And you got your wish, did you not? I understand your parents left town yesterday. How does being alone again so soon make you feel?”
<br />
<br />
Incredibly pissed. “They’ve always been busy people. I’m used to them traveling.” But I wasn’t. I thought with all the time apart, my parents might want to stick around a while. Be a family. Nope. Since appearances mean everything, they threw a party right away to show their friends and colleagues how fine I was. The powerful and highly regarded Mr. and Mrs. Wynter pulled out all the stops to prove their love for their long lost son: fine wine, catered dinner, china, crystal, even a string quartet. Yet, my father couldn’t keep the disappointment from his face any more than my mother could drown her misery in vodka.
<br />
<br />
Perhaps to appease their consciences, my folks hooked me up with doctors and provided for my physical needs before bailing. But a new car and an obscenely padded bank account wasn’t what I needed. So easily brushed aside again, I couldn’t help but wonder if parts of them were relieved when I’d disappeared four years ago.
<br />
<br />
Dr. Cahvan’s eyes narrow. “So, you remember your life up until your trip to the States?”
<br />
<br />
“Yes.” I’m lying about my amnesia. I know it. He knows it. So do my parents, but it’s too late to come up with a better story … like being the victim of a cult brainwashing or joining a psychedelic commune. I drank a different brand of Kool-Aid in Sales Hollow, South Carolina, and I can never tell a soul.
<br />
<br />
The fly zings to the window. I flinch as the buzzing is magnified ten times in my head. It takes all my will not to jump up and smash the bug against the glass. The doctor watches me with sharp eyes trained to interpret body language. I hold his gaze, though my skin breaks out in a sweat. A sudden wind rattles the panes, and I startle.
<br />
<br />
Cahvan’s mouth crimps at the corners. “Rather breezy today,” he says, glancing out the window at the quiet, blue sky.
<br />
<br />
Who cares about the weather? I have to give the old guy something before I start whining about magic spells, heightened senses, or worse: how my daddy never loved me.
<br />
<br />
I blow out a breath. “Look, some things seem familiar, others are confusing. I don’t need a doctor. I need time.” I only meant to throw him a bone so he’d have something to report when my parents call, but my body heats as I talk. Anger, resentment, and fear all claw their way up my throat and charge out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Time I can’t get back where I finish school, date hot girls, and grow up like normal kids do. I’m trying. Doing the best I can, but what I don’t need is to sit in rooms with smug strangers who are paid to dissect my brain over things I can’t explain, and neither of us will ever understand!” I drag my fingers through my shaggy hair. “That time is gone. I’m pissed off, and I guess I’ll be pissed off until I’m not anymore.”
<br />
<br />
Dr. Cahvan rubs his jaw. “That’s very interesting, Cole.”
<br />
<br />
My laugh is harsh. Not that any of this is funny. “Is it?”
<br />
<br />
“Yes. Thank you for your honesty today.” His bushy eyebrows push together. “Thank you for entering the circle of trust and allowing me to help you. Please see my secretary on your way out and make another appointment for next week.”
<br />
<br />
Seriously? I stand and head for the door. Oh, I’ll see your secretary, all right. I’ll nod as I walk right past her. He didn’t help me. No one can. There are a lot of things I need. But touchy-feely therapy with Doctor Eyebrows isn’t one of them.
<br />
<br />
***
<br />
<br />
After the awkward “circle of trust” episode, I can’t decide what to do with myself. I don’t want to be around people, but I don’t want to go home to an empty house either, so I wind up in the rambling cemetery a couple miles from our house.
<br />
<br />
I like it here and come pretty often just to think. Crumbling grave markers bear witness to France’s rich history, even with the chiseled dates worn and fading with time. Moss, ivy, and ancient trees lend beauty and peace to a place that soothes my soul. I’m not trying to be morbid. I never kept company with the dead. We were the undead, in a non-sparkly kind of way.
<br />
<br />
I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll discover the meaning of life. I’m just trying to find meaning in mine.
<br />
<br />
After surviving a half-death, I’ve been given a second chance. Trouble is, I don’t know what to do with it.
The sun is too hot on my back. No sooner does the thought cross my mind, when a friendly breeze tousles my hair like an old friend. I pull my cell from my pocket and stare at Raven’s number. She said to call her anytime, and I do. Gideon said to call her if I wanted my arse kicked. Typical. He’s still that insecure kid deep down. Still trying to prove himself, as he tries to control everyone and everything within his reach, just like his old man taught him.
<br />
<br />
Should have known something was wrong when I first got the invitation to visit Gideon in America all those years ago. My parents were so happy Maddox Senior wasn’t pressing charges; they actually thought the gesture was an attempt at friendship. Of course, Mum and Dad sent me packing complete with an olive branch in my mouth. That gesture of goodwill got my picture taken and a trip to The Void with a bunch of vengeful old guys from the early nineteen hundreds and a hot blond with twisted taste in men. We spent our days trying to escape that hell. The labyrinth’s ghouls, the surreal existence of consciousness without a physical body, and the constant pain of regret all earmarked a life that wasn’t.
<br />
<br />
Until her.
<br />
<br />
My fingers comb the grass at my sides. I close my eyes and feel the day’s warmth on my face, the wind threading through my thin tee. I may look like a freak, but I can’t stop touching everything around me. While I was gone, I missed the sensation of air in my lungs, the taste of coffee, the sweet sensation of a kiss …
<br />
<br />
My thumb starts dialing Rae’s number.
<br />
<br />
Cole …
<br />
<br />
Shite. Here we go again.
<br />
<br />
Come to me, Cole …
<br />
<br />
I wonder if I sounded this creepy to Raven when I begged for her help.
<br />
<br />
Veins at my temples pulse. Leaves shake and laugh in the breeze, the echo reverberating in my head. “Who are you? What do you want with me?” I want to stand, but my limbs weigh a hundred pounds each. My lungs deflate under the crushing pressure, and I struggle to breathe.
<br />
<br />
The scenery of oaks and elms surrounding the cemetery blur into a muddy gray-green wall, and I know what’s happening. Gravestones push up from the ground like gnashing teeth and recede again until the ground transforms into a smooth, stone floor. The world of pedestrians, car horns, and singing birds around the graveyard fade to a quiet worse than death. My body rejects the idea of gravity. The weightlessness of being sucked back into The Void again invades my person like a virus, spreading into my muscles and bones, my very essence.
<br />
<br />
I will the door of my mind closed to shut out the transformation. I place a mental shield before the magic so it won’t consume me, but magic has a will of its own. It snakes under the imaginary door I’ve erected in my head, enveloping me. I thrash, but it’s useless. My soundless screaming and mind-withering despair only seems to feed The Void’s strength.
<br />
<br />
When I open my eyes, the cemetery is gone. I shift on a cold, damp floor, taking in my new surroundings. I’ve seen this place before, several times. The space is a circular stone room with two tall, skinny windows allowing diffused light inside. A bed sits across from me. Downy quilts worn and faded with use cover the straw mattress. On the wall, a huge, gilt-framed mirror reflects the room where a pretty blond sits in a hardback chair. Watching me.
<br />
<br />
I’m familiar with strange, but not with sad, soul-eating eyes like hers.
<br />
<br />
When she rises, I feel like I should thank her, because light from the window shows her curves through an ultra-thin nightdress. The sight chokes my airflow for a whole different reason.
<br />
<br />
ThinkofRaventhinkofRaventhinkofRaven.
<br />
<br />
I’m so not thinking of Raven. For all my faults, I’m not the cheating type, but I am a guy, and this girl is seriously fit! I want to touch her in the worst way, but I swallow instead. Attempting to be a gentleman, I lift my gaze and focus on the far wall, yet somehow—because I’m still a guy—I end up watching the way her hair hangs in white blond waves to her thighs. Her rosebud mouth opens slightly. Pleading eyes, more silver than blue, threaten to pull me under and drown me. None of this helps curb my impulse to reach for her.
<br />
<br />
Then I think about how she brought me here against my will, and that helps tamp down the hormones.
<br />
<br />
Cole.
<br />
<br />
What do you want?
<br />
<br />
Can’t you guess?
<br />
<br />
I can. I pleaded with Raven for the same help not too long ago. Inside The Void, I thought I’d met everyone. The ones that Maddox had imprisoned, and the indigenous inhabitants of the labyrinth. I hadn’t known there were any others.
<br />
<br />
The drip-drop of a leaky faucet is the only sound as I gather my thoughts. “Who are you? Where are you? I don’t understand what’s happening. Where is this place? Did Gideon put you here?” I rattle off my questions not pausing for a response.
<br />
<br />
She doesn’t answer. Maybe she can’t.
<br />
<br />
Wind picks up, whooshing through the hollow room, though the windows are shut. The sound grows, as though someone dropped a microphone in a washing machine. I grit my teeth against the noise. My mind squeezes in the pressurized vacuum.
<br />
<br />
Cole … She extends a thin, white hand.
<br />
<br />
I remember Raven. How she fell to her knees on the floor of the mill house when we first met. Pain rips into my psyche, claws at my sanity. The same way I’m sure it did hers.
<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry. Forgive me, Raven. I didn’t know.”
<br />
<br />
… My name is Rosamond …
<br />
<br />
Stone walls smear and fade, the beautiful girl along with them. I can’t breathe. Then, the faint outline of tree tops bleed back into view.
<br />
<br />
… Rosamond Bryer …
<br />
<br />
My panting rivals an overheated Saint Bernard. Grass pokes my palms. Rough bark scrapes my spine through my T-shirt. Any trace of the castle turret is erased as the same decrepit cemetery I know solidifies, and the garden is as it was before.
<br />
<br />
Almost …
<br />
<br />
I’m leaning against an old tree, yet my cell and sunglasses still lie next to the rose bushes where I was sitting, almost twenty feet away. I have no memory of moving. How did I get way over here?
<br />
<br />
Both hands plow through my hair with my exhale. What the bloody hell just happened? Am I imagining this? A nightmare left over from the reality of my imprisonment. Or is the girl real? Trapped like I was and waiting for someone with the courage to free her.
<br />
<br />
Is that someone me? I’ve been a lot of things, but brave isn’t one of them. To help her means going back to the mansion.
<br />
<br />
No. I definitely do not need this shite. I’m starting over, leaving that life behind. Yet, the haunted expression on the girl’s face tugs at me. Something about her seems familiar. I’m gutted over how she reached for me. Raven doubted, too, but not for long. If the blond is real, then she’s really in trouble. And if she’s really in trouble, what, if anything, are you prepared to do about it, Cole Wynter?
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgJGpvxf2u4/VumvwLuO-1I/AAAAAAAARYc/_IZ9WN102Y8yelicMOaIJWUdMa3Ks-fGQ/s1600/Julie_Reece_Image_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BgJGpvxf2u4/VumvwLuO-1I/AAAAAAAARYc/_IZ9WN102Y8yelicMOaIJWUdMa3Ks-fGQ/s320/Julie_Reece_Image_2.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">As a child,
Julie’s summers were about horseback riding and fishing, while winter brought
sledding and ice-skating on frozen ponds. Most of life was magical, but not
all. She struggled with multiple learning disabilities, and spent much of her
time gazing out windows and daydreaming. In the fourth grade (with the help of
one very nice teacher) she fought dyslexia for her right to read and won.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Afterward,
she invented stories where powerful heroines kicked bad-guy butt to win the
hearts charismatic heroes. And then she wrote one down…</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Writing ever
since, Julie weaves southern gothic, contemporary, fantasy, and young adult </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">romances. She
enjoys sweeping tales of mystery and epic adventure… which must include a
really hot guy. Her writing is proof a dream and some hard work can overcome
any obstacle.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Where you can find Julie: <a href="http://blog.juliereece.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/JulieAReece">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/author.julieareece">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5294594.Julie_Reece">Goodreads</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eBook of THE
ARTISANS and an eGalley of THE PALADINS. International.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-65483092543958623642016-03-11T00:00:00.000-07:002016-03-11T00:00:17.325-07:00Cover and first chapter reveal! In The Shadow of the Dragon King by J. Keller Ford #giveaway #ya<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8gnDPvtOQGo/VuCEJymhopI/AAAAAAAARTQ/njS5INNIKoU/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8gnDPvtOQGo/VuCEJymhopI/AAAAAAAARTQ/njS5INNIKoU/s400/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today J. Keller Ford and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING!
Book 1 in the Chronicles of Fallhallow Series which releases May 31, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter
to be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a short intro from the author!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Hi there! I’m so excited to share this cover
with you. I love the stunning blue background with the silver accents, and the
dragon medallion totally captures the personality of the book. I knew I wanted
the cover to be classic, timeless, yet dark and enchanting, and boy, did the
designers deliver! I couldn’t be more thrilled. Thanks so much for stopping by!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING (The
Chronicles of Fallhallow #1)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> J.
Keller Ford<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> May 31, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Find it:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span><a href="http://amzn.to/1pxK60T"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/in-the-shadow-of-the-dragon-king-j-keller-ford/1123435688?ean=9780996890427">B&N</a>
| <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/In-the-Shadow-of-the-Dragon-King-J-Keller-Ford/9780996890427?ref=grid-view">TBD</a>
| <a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Shadow-Dragon-King/J-Keller-Ford/Q478399840?id=6574638939822">BAM</a>
| <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/in-the-shadow-of-the-dragon-king">Kobo</a>
| <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/J_Keller_Ford_In_the_Shadow_of_the_Dragon_King?id=1CGUCwAAQBAJ">Google
Play Books</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/in-shadow-dragon-king/id1084467038?mt=11">iBooks</a>
|</span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25721483-in-the-shadow-of-the-dragon-king?ac=1&from_search=1&from_nav=true"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Seventeen-year-old, Eric, is a kick-butt
squire to the most revered knight in Fallhollow. Well he would be if Sir
Trogsdill allowed him to do anything even remotely awesome. Determined to prove
his worth, Eric sets out to find the mythical paladin summoned to protect the
realm from the evil lurking nearby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Sixteen-year-old, David, spends his days
collecting school honors, winning archery tournaments, and trying not to fall
in love with his scrappy best friend, Charlotte. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Right when things start to get
interesting, he is whisked away to the magical realm of Fallhollow where
everyone thinks he's some sort of paladin destined to fulfill a
two-hundred-year-old prophecy. He's supposed to help kill a dragon with some
sort of magic key. The same key that happens to adorn the neck of an annoying
squire who's too wrapped up in proving himself to be much help to anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">With egos as big as the dragon they need
to destroy, Eric and David must get over themselves, or watch everything they
know and love, burn.<b> <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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“War is a necessary evil. There is not a day or time when each of us does not battle some sort of enemy either within or around us. The true test of our character lies in the instant when we choose to either ignore or defeat that which seeks to destroy us. It is the same in our kingdom. Hirth has seen its share of battles and this great province has ridden the wings of freedom for many an age; however, there will come a day when an evil so immense will seek to threaten our very existence. It is then the knights of Gyllen Castle will rise to the aid of Hirth and defend all that is dear – our families, our land, and our right to survive. When such a time comes, I will fight with honor and for glory and give my life, if my forfeiture of it will allow Hirth the chance to endure in peace. And while I know that the enemy may prevail and my life be extinguished from this body, my death will not be in vain for what is more honorable than giving one’s life for love of family, country…and freedom.”
<br />
<br />
Sir Trogsdill Domnall.
<br />
<br />
Chapter 1
<br />
<br />
If Eric had known what the daylight would bring after the nightmares ended, he would have remained in bed, the covers pulled over his head.
<br />
<br />
Instead, he waded through the puddles of the castle’s upper courtyard, each gong from the clock tower further coiling his stomach into knots. Sloshing along beside him, down the aisle of topiaries and statues, was his best friend, a devilish lad with unkempt hair the color of dirt and a cock-eyed grin.
<br />
<br />
“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry,” Sestian said, polishing an apple on his sleeve. “Weapons class began fifteen minutes ago. Master Mafi won’t allow us in.” The apple crunched in his teeth.
<br />
<br />
“You don’t understand, Ses. I have to try.” Eric swatted at the spindly arms of a willow tree. “This will be the third day in a row I missed. If I don’t go, word will get back to Trog and he’ll flog me. You know how he gets.”
<br />
<br />
“You worry too much. He’d never physically hurt you, however, I do have to admit, he is quite an odd fellow. I saw him make another midnight trek to the fountain last night. He sat there all hunched over like he’d lost his best friend, then he stood, dropped a rose in the water, and left.”
<br />
<br />
Eric’s muscles bunched under his light shirt, his brow pinched. “That is bizarre, even for him.”
<br />
<br />
“Want to hear something even more bizarre?” Sestian paused, took another bite of the apple and buried the core in a potted plant. “I overheard Trog and my own headache of a master talking this morning. I believe the exact words out of Farnsworth’s mouth were, ‘Fallhollow is under attack’.”
<br />
<br />
Eric came to a stop, his eyes wide. “Attack? From who?”
<br />
<br />
Sestian shrugged. “Don’t know, but members of the Senate and the Mage’s High Council arrived an hour ago, including the Supreme Master himself. They’re meeting with the Order as we speak.”
<br />
<br />
“What?” Eric’s pulse quickened. “Jared’s here? You saw him?”
<br />
<br />
The grand mage of all magical beings never involved himself in the affairs of men. Ever.
<br />
<br />
“No, but I plan to change that.” An impish twinkle glistened in Sestian’s eyes. “Are you game?”
<br />
<br />
“What? You want to—you mean—you’re joking, right?”
<br />
<br />
The puckish grin on Sestian’s face answered his question.
<br />
<br />
Eric shook his head. “Oh, no. There is no way you’re going to get me to eavesdrop on a secret council meeting. I’d rather get hit by lightning than suffer the punishment from anyone sitting in that room.”
<br />
<br />
“Aww, come on, Eric. Must you always be so dull? Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
<br />
<br />
“That sort of curiosity will land us in the pillory at best.” Eric pushed past his friend through the carved citadel doors. Sestian darted in front of him and stopped.
<br />
<br />
“Your point?”
<br />
<br />
“My point is that I value my life.”
<br />
<br />
“And what of Fallhollow? Don’t you value our home?”
<br />
<br />
“Of course I do, but—”
<br />
<br />
“Then what are you waiting for?” Sestian punched Eric’s arm. “Let’s go.”
<br />
<br />
“Ses, no!” Eric’s protest fell on empty ears. His friend was gone.
<br />
<br />
Eric brushed past the lapis columns of the marble vestibule into the Great Hall, a wide-open space topped by a domed ceiling so high its ornate detail was almost lost in the darkness. Nobles and servants milled about, coming and going out of the many rooms, laughter echoing off the walls speckled with massive tapestries and oiled paintings. A flock of girls dressed in aristocratic finery stood upon the majestic staircase, twittering like excited canaries. One of them, Lady Emelia, a startling girl with red hair and striking features, waved at him and winked. Eric rolled his eyes and scurried down the hall past the stairs. The last thing he wanted or needed was a flighty girl choking his freedom.
<br />
<br />
He passed several lavish rooms before spotting his friend at the far end of the music room, leaning on a harp.
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<br />
“What took you so long?” Sestian grinned, then pushed aside a wall tapestry and vanished through a secret door.
<br />
<br />
“Drat you, Ses. How do you find these things?” Eric glanced over his shoulder and followed.
<br />
<br />
Inside, Sestian struck a wooden match against the stone wall and lit a torch he plucked from an iron sconce. They climbed a set of narrow steps. The guttering flame of Sestian’s torch cast shadows on the walls. More than once the passageway twisted and turned as they ascended.
<br />
<br />
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Eric asked.
<br />
<br />
Sestian laughed. “We’re in the heart of the castle and you’re going to ask that question now?”
<br />
<br />
They continued upward. After what seemed an eternity, the steps emptied onto the landing of a dark corridor filled with cobwebs. Sestian stopped and thrust the torch at Eric. “Hold this.” He spun a wall sconce in a combination of left and right turns until a latch popped, and a hidden door opened inward, exposing a small room filled with wooden crates.
<br />
<br />
“What the—?” Eric stepped inside, his mouth open.
<br />
<br />
Sestian placed his finger to his lips and motioned to a jagged hole the size of a man’s fist in the wall.
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<br />
Curious, Eric squatted and peered through a banner of delicate silk.
<br />
<br />
“Dragon’s breath,” he whispered. “That’s the king’s arbitration room!” He flicked a sideways glance at Sestian. “How did you find this?”
<br />
<br />
“I don’t sleep much, remember?”
<br />
<br />
“Good heavens, you are crazy.”
<br />
<br />
A chair scraped across the wood floor below. Four mages, recognizable by their golden skin, turquoise eyes, and sapphire–blue garments, sat on one side of an immense oval table. Four senators clad in similar garments of purple and gold sat across from them. At one head of the table sat Trog and Farnsworth. At the other, a sojourner shrouded in black with silver rings upon his fingers and tattoos etched upon his hands. And at one of the five arched windows stood the sorceress, Slavandria, her thick lavender hair plaited in a single braid to the floor.
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<br />
“Jared,” Eric said under his breath.
<br />
<br />
“Yep,” Sestian said. “That’d be my guess.”
<br />
<br />
Below, Trog leaned forward, his massive hands clasped together, and addressed the cloaked figure opposite him. “We will heed your warnings, Master Jared, and dispatch a legion to His Majesty’s entourage. I also think it wise to notify our neighbors to the north of the encroaching threat. If this enemy’s intentions are to see Hirth fall, he will attack our allies first to render our kingdom helpless.”
<br />
<br />
“Agreed.” Jared’s voice resonated deep within the chambers, and into Eric’s core. “Master Camden, see to it the kingdoms of Trent and Banning are informed of the possible threat. Also, instruct the shime to dispatch regiments and secure the borders of Hirth.”
<br />
<br />
“Do you feel that necessary?” replied the bald man clad in blue. “There is no proof the kingdom of Hirth or the realm of Fallhollow, for that matter, is under attack. There have only been a few isolated incidents of bloodshed, nothing that could be construed as acts of war.”
<br />
<br />
“Master Camden,” Jared said, “several families of barbegazis, nine unicorns, and over a hundred humans are dead all in the course of four days. This morning, patrols rescued a herd of pixies from a crow’s cage in the Elmwithian Marsh. They were swathed in dragon’s blood. Might I remind you a single act of brutality, especially one steeped in black magic as these incidences are, is one violation too many. Our job is to protect this world, and more so this kingdom, from any dark sorcery that may threaten it. If this directive is in any way unclear, I will be more than happy to personally instruct you in the importance of upholding your defensive role.”
<br />
<br />
A chill crept up Eric’s spine.
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<br />
“Oh, come on. Instruct him,” Sestian said, a grin stretched across his face.
<br />
<br />
A palpable silence fell over the room. Master Camden shifted in his seat and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “Personal instruction is not necessary, Supreme Master.”
<br />
<br />
“I find that to be a wise decision.”
<br />
<br />
Eric exhaled. “Yes, so do I.”
<br />
<br />
Jared stood and pulled the hood of his cloak forward. “Since we are in agreement, I believe we can dismiss. Sir Trogsdill, if I may, I’d like to speak with my daughter alone.”
<br />
<br />
“Of course,” Trog said, standing. “The rest of you, follow me to the dining hall where you can feast before your journey home.”
<br />
<br />
“I don’t believe this, Sestian whispered as Trog ushered the last of the visitors out and closed the door behind him.
<br />
<br />
“Shh,” Eric said.
<br />
<br />
Down below, Slavandria, said “What is on your mind, Father?”
<br />
<br />
Jared strolled past her, his hands tucked into his voluminous sleeves. “I have given this a great deal of thought and I have reached a decision. Considering all that has happened, I am left with no other choice. As queen of the Southern Forest and protector of this realm, you must summon the paladin.”
<br />
<br />
Her gasp could have ripped leaves from their stems.
<br />
<br />
“Father, no! I can’t! The paladin is only to be summoned in the direst of circumstances. While these attacks are horrid, they are far from extreme.”
<br />
<br />
“Daughter—”
<br />
<br />
“Father, please. The ramifications will be devastating to all those involved. Together with the shime, we’ll find this enemy and bring him into the light. I beg you. Please do not do this.”
<br />
<br />
“If that were true, they would have done so by now. As such, your arguing is futile. My decision is made. By sunset within three days, you must fulfill your duties. I will have the document drawn and sealed. Have Mangus deliver it. So it is said?”
<br />
<br />
Slavandria’s jaw tightened. “You’re being unreasonable.”
<br />
<br />
“And you are bordering the line of punishment.”
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<br />
Eric shuddered at the menacing tone.
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<br />
“Do I have your word?” Jared said.
<br />
<br />
Slavandria straightened her back and steadied her voice. “Yes, Father. So it is said. So it shall be done, but don’t think for one-minute I won’t improvise when the time presents itself.”
<br />
<br />
“You have always been my challenge child. I would expect nothing less from you. Now, if you will forgive me, I must go.”
<br />
<br />
“Where this time?”
<br />
<br />
“Home, to Felindil for a day. Afterwards, I will be in seclusion, communing with the heavens before taking to the sea.”
<br />
<br />
“What? And leave me here to set the world right once the paladin arrives?”
<br />
<br />
Jared’s full-bodied laughter filled the room. “You sound as if the demon of the underworld will rise, spewing fire and ash.”
<br />
<br />
“And how do you know he won’t?” She paused, her fingers steepled to her lips before continuing. “Father, please. All I ask is for once, in your long, stubborn life, you listen to me. The people of this kingdom and all of Fallhollow are innocent. They need our protection. I fear what the paladin’s presence will do. You can’t bring such devastation upon Fallhollow and then leave me to salvage whatever is left.”
<br />
<br />
“I bring nothing upon this realm; therefore, I leave you with nothing to clean up. The course of the world is set. Events will unfold as they will. The paladin will not change that which is set in motion.”
<br />
<br />
“You’re wrong, Father.” Slavandria brushed past him.
<br />
<br />
“Disagree if you must. You always do. For now, go home. Wait for my summoning papers and prepare the traveler. I will come to you in Chalisdawn three days hence.”
<br />
<br />
Jared snapped his fingers. White shards of light crackled and zapped around him, and he was gone.
<br />
<br />
Slavandria shook her head. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Father.” She gathered her cloak from the back of a chair and incanted some strange words. A swift pale-blue mist rose from the floor, swirling, engulfing her in a vortex. The air sizzled and splintered, and she, too, disappeared.
<br />
<br />
“Whoa,” Sestian said. “This is worse than bad.”
<br />
<br />
“No kidding,” Eric stood and brushed the dust from his breeches, “and I have a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse.”
<br />
<br />
Sestian withdrew the torch as they left the room and shut the door. “You do realize we’re going to have to find out who this paladin is, right?”
<br />
<br />
Eric walked down the steps. “Why is that?”
<br />
<br />
“Come on. Are you that daft? How else are we going to prove to Trog and Farnsworth that we’re deserving of becoming knights? Right now they think we’re nothing but a pair of imbeciles worthy of nothing more than polishing armor and performing duties of a valet.”
<br />
<br />
“We’re squires, Ses. That’s what we do.”
<br />
<br />
“And it’s all we’ll ever do if we don’t prove ourselves. Don’t you get it? When was the last time Gyllen Castle or Hirth saw battle, hmm?”
<br />
<br />
“You sound as if you want war.”
<br />
<br />
“No, but I haven’t trained all my life to become a knight only to end up as a fat, lazy, well-paid manservant.”
<br />
<br />
Eric turned a corner and continued downward, his voice hollow in the muted dark. “I don’t think you’ll ever be fat or lazy.”
<br />
<br />
“Eric, come on. Why must you be so difficult? Without a skirmish or two, acts of heroism for us are limited to rescuing girls from over-zealous drunkards and protecting the royal dinner from the palace dogs. I want more than that. When I die, I don’t want to be remembered for how well I polished a sword, but for something grand and heroic. Don’t you want the same?”
<br />
<br />
“Of course I do, but I don’t sit around thinking about what legacy I want to leave behind when I die.”
<br />
<br />
“Liar. All you ever talk about is how much you want to be a knight like Trog.” Sestian shoved past Eric and blocked his descent. “Think about it. You know as well as I we’ll be relegated to the stables to saddle horses and pack rations and bedrolls if there is the slightest hint of a conflict. They won’t let us anywhere near a battlefield, especially you. It’s like you’re some kind of poster boy for squire school.”
<br />
<br />
“I know, but—”
<br />
<br />
“No, there are no buts. Don’t you see? Now is our chance to show our mettle. If we team up with this paladin, we have a chance to prove ourselves. Trog and Farnsworth will have to take notice.”
<br />
<br />
“Yeah, after they flog, tar and feather us. Besides, what makes you think this paladin will want us, huh? He’s probably some powerful sorcerer like Jared.”
<br />
<br />
“No one is as powerful as Jared, but I’ll bet you a rooster against a duck this savior dabbles not only in white, but black magic, too. That’s why Jared needs him.”
<br />
<br />
“Which is all the more reason for us to keep our distance.”
<br />
<br />
“No! It’s all the more reason for us to find him. He’ll need guides to help him maneuver through our lands. We’ll be heroes for saving Fallhollow from a murderous foe. King Gildore will praise us. Songs will be written about us.”
<br />
<br />
Eric rolled his eyes.
<br />
<br />
Sestian snorted. “Don’t think I can’t hear your eyes flipping around in their sockets. You know I’m right. We know every crack in the earth Fallhollow possesses. We’ve been trained by the very best knights in the world. On top of that, I have a knack for getting us in and out of places unseen. You’re extraordinary with a blade. Together, we’re dangerous. We can be his eyes and ears. And when we defeat whatever is out there, Trog and Farnsworth will have no choice but to admit our accomplishments and recommend us for knighthood.”
<br />
<br />
Sestian’s stance and the set of his eyes conveyed an intensity Eric admired and feared. He sighed aloud. “All right. You win, but we say nothing. If Trog and Farnsworth found out, they’d roll us in dragon dung and set us on fire.”
<br />
<br />
Sestian punched Eric playfully on the arm and smiled, wide. “Ha! I knew I could break you.”
<br />
<br />
They hurried from the music room and fell in with other students leaving classrooms. In the sunlit courtyard, Eric stopped short. Sestian plowed into him from behind.
<br />
<br />
“What’s wrong?”
<br />
<br />
Eric gritted his teeth. “Do you not see who is standing in front of us?”
<br />
<br />
Sestian turned his gaze to their masters leaning against the balustrade, their arms folded to their chests, waiting. “Great. Let me handle this.”
<br />
<br />
Trog stood upright and adjusted the sword on his hip, flexing the intersecting scars on his arms—reminders of dozens of battles fought. He took a step forward, and a gust of wind blew his dark hair back from his weathered, sun-darkened face, exposing a high forehead, square jaw, and intense peridot eyes. Eric gulped as a childhood tale about a sly mouse captured by a blind owl scampered through his brain.
<br />
<br />
“You’re late,” Trog said, tossing Eric a suede satchel weighed down with sheathed knives. “Where have you been?” He spoke softly, but his voice reverberated through the crisp morning air.
<br />
<br />
“Listening to Magister Timan’s lecture on ceremonial magic,” Sestian replied. “Did you know there are magical portals that allow us to travel between realms?”
<br />
<br />
“Did you know I have a magical foot that can disappear up your backside if you don’t get down to the stables right now?” Farnsworth asked. His brow furrowed beneath a curtain of wavy straw-colored hair. He walked toward Sestian, the seams of his green tunic strained over his wide shoulders, his eyes as brown and penetrating as a wolf’s.
<br />
<br />
“So I’ve heard. Several times.” Sestian grinned and tapped Eric on the arm. “We’ll get together later and go over what we learned today, eh?”
<br />
<br />
Eric nodded and shuffled his feet under the weight of Trog’s stare. He waited for Sestian and Farnsworth to get far enough away before lifting his head and meeting Trog’s gaze. The knight lifted a brow.
<br />
<br />
“Are you going to tell me where you really were, or are you going to hold to your story that you were listening to a lecture that ended this time yesterday?”
<br />
<br />
“Which one will get me in the least amount of trouble?”
<br />
<br />
Trog placed his hand on Eric’s back and edged him down the stone steps to the lower courtyard. “The truth, Eric. Always the truth.”
<br />
<br />
“What if I promised not to tell?”
<br />
<br />
“Secrets are grave burdens to bear.”
<br />
<br />
“I can’t betray his confidence, sir. I promised.”
<br />
<br />
Trog nodded. “Then you’ll sleep in the stables tonight as punishment.”
<br />
<br />
“What? How is that fair?”
<br />
<br />
“You know the rules as my squire, and you still choose to withhold the truth. Therefore, you shall be punished accordingly.”
<br />
<br />
“But the rules of knighthood require I not reveal confidences or secrets under any circumstance to anyone at any time, even under pain of death.”
<br />
<br />
“Nice try, lad, but the last time I looked, you have not been captured nor are you under pain of death.” Trog placed a heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I’m going to give you one more chance. What will it be?”
<br />
<br />
Eric clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. “With all due respect, sir, I cannot and will not betray my friend.”
<br />
<br />
Trog removed his hand. “I commend you on your loyalty, son, but you have made your choice. Therefore, you will suffer the consequences of it. Now go on and get busy with your chores. I want each of those blades in your hand sharpened and polished by morning—”
<br />
<br />
“But, sir—”
<br />
<br />
“And for protesting when you should not, you will also sharpen and polish Sir Farnsworth’s blades. I’ll see to it they are dropped off.” Eric opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind when Trog dipped his brow in warning. “Would you like me to add Sir Gowran’s and Sir Crohn’s weapons to your load?”
<br />
<br />
Eric bit back the irritation boiling below the surface. “No, sir.”
<br />
<br />
“Very well. Bring the blades to the farrier’s stall in the morning around eight. It will be a dual-fold meeting as you can visit your father at the same time.”
<br />
<br />
Trog paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then turned and strolled across the courtyard. He hoisted a young page from a game of marbles and lectured him on the pitfalls of wasting time. Eric snorted at the boy’s bewildered expression and the speed at which he ran once set down upon his feet. Been there, boy. He cursed beneath his breath. What am I talking about? I’m still there.
<br />
<br />
Eric’s boots clicked on the cobblestones as he plodded toward Crafter’s Row. He passed beneath the archway connecting the cathedral to the knights’ quarters and turned left down the tree-shaded lane toward the royal stables. After informing the stablemaster of his upcoming sleeping arrangements, Eric returned the way he came. At the crossroad, he turned and made his way toward the smithy. Horses clomped and wagons rattled over the pavers while thick clouds gathered overhead, suffocating the sun. A light drizzle set in as he entered a stone building marked by a metal plate engraved with a hammer and anvil. The blacksmith wiped the sweat from his brow and motioned Eric to a table set with vials of oils, and various whetstones.
<br />
<br />
Eric sighed. Lovely.
<br />
<br />
He settled into the monotonous task of sharpening and polishing, taking on Farnsworth’s load a few hours later. He finished his arduous task just after dusk. Cursing his sore muscles, he packed up the satchels and shuffled to the stables where a plate of bread, cheese and a pint of goat’s milk waited for him.
<br />
<br />
Great. Is he trying to starve me, too?
<br />
<br />
He ate what was given and settled into the hayloft, his stomach a knot of protests. He sighed. Who was this paladin, and from who or what was he destined to save the realm? There was only one way to find out. Tomorrow he and Sestian would devise a plan, and it would be worthy of a knight’s tale. When all was said and done, Trog would have no other choice than to see him as a worthy knight instead of an incompetent fool. An image of Trog groveling for forgiveness appeared in his mind. Eric snuggled into a bed of hay and fell into a blissful dream, a wide grin on his face.
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">About J. Keller Ford: <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">J. (Jenny) Keller Ford grew up as an
Army brat, traveling the world and wandering the halls of some of Germany’s
most extraordinary castles. From the time she was old enough to hold a crayon,
she wove fantasy tales of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former paralegal, she’s the author of
several short stories including The Amulet of Ormisez, Dragon Flight, and The
Passing of Millie Hudson. When not at
her keyboard breathing new life into fantasy worlds, Jenny spends time
overloading on coffee, collecting seashells, bowling, swimming, riding roller
coasters and talking plotlines with anyone who will listen. She lives on the west coast of Florida with
her husband, two sons, two dogs, and a pretentious orange cat. Her two daughters and grand-daughter make their
homes in Seattle, WA.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eGalley of IN
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-64619694890004002532016-03-10T00:00:00.000-07:002016-03-10T00:00:11.921-07:00Read the first chapter of The Undertakers: The End of the World by Ty Drago #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Ty Drago and Month9Books are revealing
the first chapter for THE UNDERTAKERS: THE END OF THE WORLD! Book 5 in the Undertakers
Series which releases March 29, 2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to
be one of the first readers to receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> THE UNDERTAKERS: THE END OF THE WORLD<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Ty
Drago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> March 29, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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| <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/The-Undertakers-End-of-the-World-Ty-Drago/9781942664888?ref=grid-view">TBD</a>
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Play Books</a> | <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/undertakers-5-end-world/id1084467116?mt=11">iBooks</a>
| </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24951449-end-of-the-world?ac=1&from_search=1&from_nav=true"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Goodreads</span></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Think the Corpse War was over? So did
Will Ritter until he was led through a doorway in time and finds himself in a
future where the Earth has been all but destroyed. The Corpses, alien invaders
who wear the dead like suits of clothing, have returned in horrific numbers. In
the wake of their destructive onslaught, a rag-tag group of survivors with some
of Will's now grownup friends among them is all that's left of mankind. Will
must take part in a desperate, last ditch effort to rewrite history, prevent the
Second Corpse War from ever happening, and defeat this evil that has consumed
mankind once and for all. But victory, if such a thing is even possible,
carries a heavy cost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div>
<b>Excerpt</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Chapter 1
<br />
<br />
Dreamer
<br />
<br />
Folks don't sweat in dreams, do they?
<br />
<br />
“Ready?” the dude in the broken glasses asked.
<br />
<br />
The dreamer nodded, readying her javelin, feeling the familiar cold steel of its shaft in her strong fists. This wasn't the “real” javelin, of course. The dude in the broken glasses, the one who kept bringing her to this strange place while she slept, had told her that the “real” javelin was too unique and important to risk in a training exercise. But he assured her that this one was the same length and weight as the genuine article.
<br />
<br />
Whatever. It worked well enough. And she was getting good with it.
<br />
<br />
But then, she'd always had a knack with pointy things like this.
<br />
<br />
This was her fifth simulation tonight and the sweat of the last four stung her eyes.
<br />
<br />
Even in her scariest nightmares, and Heaven knew she'd had her share of those, in which she was either running from Corpses or defending the people she cared about from those undead invaders, she never sweated. Oh sure, when she woke up with a gasp of alarm or even a terrified cry, she was often soaked in cold, sticky perspiration.
<br />
<br />
But never during the actual dream.
<br />
<br />
Until now.
<br />
<br />
Her eyes looked everywhere at once as she turned in a slow circle, surveying the dimly lit room. This place had a high ceiling, with walls and a floor all covered in white tile. It was big too, maybe sixty feet by thirty.
<br />
<br />
But with the lights off, it seemed even bigger.
<br />
<br />
And more menacing.
<br />
<br />
That's 'cause I know what hides in this darkness.
<br />
<br />
There!
<br />
<br />
The first mechanical monster charged her left flank, just a flash of movement, a shadow against other shadows. She got the impression of something large, with ten legs and a single piercing red eye.
<br />
<br />
No time to parry. So she dove, rolled, and felt the charging thing rush past her. Then, finding one knee, she thrust one of the javelin's two pointed ends up and out. It was one of the dozen moves that she'd been painstakingly mastering.
<br />
<br />
In these dreams, that is.
<br />
<br />
Her thrust struck home, the javelin's point jabbing deeply into the ten-legged monster's flank, knocking it over. The dreamer, still holding the weapon's other end, went with it, using its weight to leverage her to her feet before yanking the javelin free and spinning around, poised for the next assault.
<br />
<br />
Two of them came at her this time, ten o'clock and one o'clock. Their maws were wide open, rows of teeth shimmering in the darkness.
<br />
<br />
She went left, running straight at her nearest attacker, only to leap at the last second, putting one bare foot atop the monster's bulbous head and vaulting over it. As she did, she let her body tumble rearward, executing a backflip that allowed her to drive the javelin viciously into the creature's steel spine. As the weapon's point sliced through the thick armor, the dreamer's momentum pulled the javelin along, slicing open the creature's metal plating, exposing rent gears, severed cables and electronic circuitry that sputtered in its death throes.
<br />
<br />
The monster collapsed.
<br />
<br />
The dreamer landed smoothly on her feet behind it.
<br />
<br />
And that's when the other one struck her.
<br />
<br />
As quick as she'd been, she hadn't been quick enough. She'd stupidly allowed the last monster to anticipate her, and now she was paying for it, her body a mass of pain as she was slammed against the floor and sent sliding along its tiled surface.
<br />
<br />
Somewhere in the surrounding darkness, she heard the dude with the broken glasses gasp in alarm.
<br />
<br />
Wincing, the dreamer rolled with the blow, controlled it, and managed to get her feet under her and the javelin up just as the ten-legged thing pounced at her for the killing blow.
<br />
<br />
This time, the weapon's point rammed straight up under the creature's chin, if you could call that place under its mouth a “chin.” Bracing herself, and ignoring the sharp agony that lanced up her left arm—wrenched, but not broken—the dreamer pushed harder, and harder still, until the javelin exploded out the top of the monster's head.
<br />
<br />
It toppled over as the other had.
<br />
<br />
“The crystal!” the man in the broken glasses cried. “There's the crystal!”
<br />
<br />
The dreamer looked up and saw it.
<br />
<br />
It shone brightly, high overhead, an enormous construct of glowing glass. It hung there, supported by nothing, pulsing with strange, unnatural energy.
<br />
<br />
Pure evil.
<br />
<br />
Pushing away her pain and ignoring the sweat stinging her eyes, the dreamer planted one foot on the last monster's broken, lifeless body and yanked the javelin free. Then she spun, reared back, and hurled the shining shaft of pointed metal upward.
<br />
<br />
She watched it fly, cutting the air like a laser beam, almost seeming to glow itself.
<br />
<br />
It slammed into the hateful, malevolent crystal, piercing it deeply, and sending a splintering web of cracks running along the face of it.
<br />
<br />
“Yes!” the dude in the broken glasses exclaimed. As had often happened before, something in the sound of his voice struck the dreamer as familiar.
<br />
<br />
I almost get who he is ...
<br />
<br />
“It didn't break!” the dreamer exclaimed.
<br />
<br />
“It will,” the dude said, emerging from the shadows to her right. “It'll take a little over four minutes for the harmonic resonance to build up, but then it'll shatter spectacularly. You'll need to be gone by then.”
<br />
<br />
“Gone from where?” she asked.
<br />
<br />
He didn't reply.
<br />
<br />
Abruptly, the crystal vanished. The javelin, she now saw, was buried in the room's high ceiling, having pierced one of the white tiles.
<br />
<br />
An illusion, as always. “Hologram” was what the dude called it.
<br />
<br />
But illusion or not, after something like two dozen tries, I finally crushed it!
<br />
<br />
The lights came on, which was freaky, since there were no visible lamps.
<br />
<br />
The dreamer regarded the three broken creatures around her. Robots. Just metal and computer chips and what she supposed had to be some pretty hardcore programming. But the dude in the broken glasses had assured her that they were as close to the real thing as he could make them.
<br />
<br />
And the dreamer, who'd seen the real thing up close and personal, agreed.
<br />
<br />
The dude in the broken glasses wore a broad, toothy smile. The dreamer was certain that she knew that smile, and not just from her nocturnal visits to this strange place. She knew it from somewhere else, somewhere in the waking world.
<br />
<br />
But, try as she might, she couldn't—
<br />
<br />
“That was very well done,” he said.
<br />
<br />
“Thanks,” the dreamer replied. “Does that mean I graduated? Am I done comin' back here?”
<br />
<br />
The man's smile faded and he shook his head. “Not yet. You did get hit, after all. We need to practice until you don't. We need to get you to the point where those things don't lay a claw on you. Even so, you're doing wonderfully. Well beyond projections!”
<br />
<br />
“Thanks,” she said again. “But it'd help if I could practice with the javelin on my own time. These dream sessions are cool and all, but they ain't really enough to let me master a new weapon.”
<br />
<br />
The dude in the broken glasses shrugged. “They're all we've got.”
<br />
<br />
“Ain't you ever gonna tell me who you are?” the dreamer asked.
<br />
<br />
“Probably not,” he replied. “But you'll likely figure it out one day. For now, we should call it a night. Time's short for me this evening. He's coming.”
<br />
<br />
“Who's coming?”
<br />
<br />
The dude considered before answering. Then, with a shrug, he replied, “Will Ritter.”
<br />
<br />
The dreamer blinked in surprise. “Red's coming here?”
<br />
<br />
“Well, not to this exact room. But he's coming to this place and time.”
<br />
<br />
“And what place and time is that?” the dreamer demanded, bothered by the fact that poor Will was somehow being dragged into—whatever this was. Though, she supposed it shouldn't surprise her. Will Ritter was always in the thick of things, especially where the Corpse War was concerned.
<br />
<br />
But, as usual, the dude in the broken glasses didn't reply.
<br />
<br />
She'd been coming to this strange room for close to a month now, night after night, repeating the same exercise over and over. Each time she would fight the ten-legged monsters and then try to destroy the crystal. She didn't know what it was all for. She didn't know why it was happening, and had never been able to coax a straight answer from the man in the broken glasses, not even to the most obvious question:
<br />
<br />
Where am I?
<br />
<br />
Then, suddenly, an alarm sounded.
<br />
<br />
It rang somewhere outside the room, not blaring but loud enough to be easily heard. The dude in the broken glasses spun around with a startled gasp.
<br />
<br />
“What's that?” the dreamer asked.
<br />
<br />
“They've found us!” he replied, and the panic in his voice sent a sharp chill racing down the dreamer's spine. “No! It's too soon!”
<br />
<br />
“Too soon?” she begged. “For what?”
<br />
<br />
He looked at her, a little desperately, she thought. But then he steadied himself and said, “You've done great work, but it looks like this is our last session after all. Thank you for your efforts and your patience during this past month. You're as strong as I remember you being. I'll send you home now.”
<br />
<br />
“Wait!” the dreamer exclaimed as the dude in the broken glasses took a gadget from inside the threadbare white lab coat he wore. Some kind of flashlight. “What’s goin' down? What is all this?”
<br />
<br />
And, for once, her mystery man gave her an answer.
<br />
<br />
Sort of.
<br />
<br />
“It's the end of the world, Sharyn.”
<br />
<br />
Then he pointed the flashlight thingy at her, and she knew what was coming. For an instant, white light filled her vision. And an instant after that, Sharyn Jefferson, Co-Chief of the Undertakers, awoke on her cot in Haven, and remembered that Hot Dog was dead.
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ofSskH6Rs4Y/Vt8x8pKAC3I/AAAAAAAARSw/w--2xSNDWeg/s1600/Ty%2BDrago.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ofSskH6Rs4Y/Vt8x8pKAC3I/AAAAAAAARSw/w--2xSNDWeg/s320/Ty%2BDrago.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">About Ty: </span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ty Drago does his writing just across
the river from Philadelphia, where the Undertakers novels take place. In addition to The Undertakers: Rise of the
Corpses, The Undertakers: Queen of the Dead, and The Undertakers: Secret of the
Corpse Eater, he is the author of The Franklin Affair and Phobos, as well as
short stories and articles that have appeared in numerous publications,
including Writer's Digest. He currently
lives in southern New Jersey with his wife and best friend, the real Helene
Drago née Boettcher.</span></div>
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<a href="https://twitter.com/tydrago">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/tydrago">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/ty.drago">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/421667.Ty_Drago">Goodreads</a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Giveaway Details:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">1 winner will receive an eBook of all 3
of Ty Drago’s Undertakers books.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="e2389ba2426" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba2426/" id="rcwidget_r60x5e6j" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-7752914894932748092016-03-08T00:00:00.000-07:002016-03-08T00:00:00.183-07:00Book launch - Paranormal Horror! The Island by Clarissa Johal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2zHUsdpUp-U/VpWWwfGFCgI/AAAAAAAAIA8/LInUUsI6dLk/s1600/The%2BIsland%2Bcover%2Bart%2Bsmall%2Bfile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2zHUsdpUp-U/VpWWwfGFCgI/AAAAAAAAIA8/LInUUsI6dLk/s320/The%2BIsland%2Bcover%2Bart%2Bsmall%2Bfile.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<b>Book Details: </b>
<br />
Title: THE ISLAND <br />
Genre: Paranormal Horror <br />
Author: Clarissa Johal <br />
Editor: Marisa Chenery
Booktrope, Forsaken Imprint (2015)
ISBN-13: 978-1-5137-0161-5
ASIN: B010TE7W1G
<br />
Number of Pages: 210<br />
<br />
Check out the buy links below - during this tour, The Island is on sale for $0.99. Visit the <a href="http://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/2016/03/virtual-book-tour-schedule-island-by.html" target="_blank">book tour list</a> for interviews, reviews, and guest posts!<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>About THE ISLAND:</b>
<i>Exploring a remote island can sometimes get you into trouble.
Especially when you stumble upon a cave and awaken two demons.</i>
Rumors and superstition.
That’s what Emma thinks about local gossip concerning her grandmother’s “cursed” private island. Emma journeys to the island to ready it for sale. While out exploring, she unearths a hidden cave–a cave which holds answers to the island’s dark past.
There may be more to the rumors than she thought.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Excerpt from THE ISLAND:</b>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She was jarred awake by a cry. The vestiges of her nightmare dissipated as she orientated herself. <i>Nightmare. </i>Emma let out a sigh of relief. The cry sounded again. A distant sound, high and wailing. A baby’s cry. Her heart quickened. <i>Good god, surely that can’t be a baby?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The fire in the stove had burned down, its embers lending a glow to the living room. Emma looked out the front window. The yard was still. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. The cry drifted in with the breeze, faint but unmistakable. She ran through her mind what possible bird or animal could make the sound and came up with nothing. Characteristically, the island was blanketed with silence, almost like a vacuum. She stood, uncertain. After several minutes, the sound started again—the unmistakable high wail of a baby.<i> </i>She slipped on her boots and parka. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fog trailed like cobwebs in her wake. The mournful cry threaded through the trees and came from the direction of the house ruins. In spite of a growing anxiety at what she’d find, she quickened her pace. <i>If that is a baby, it’s still alive, and I need to get to it.</i> <i>If it’s not a baby…</i> She blocked out the possibilities of what else it could be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She approached the ruins and the sound stopped. Her heart raced. <i>I know it was coming from here</i>. The area held an unnatural heaviness. A branch cracked behind her and she turned with a start. Something dark darted through the trees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Hello?” Her voice sounded muffled in the fog. Emma’s attention snapped to the left. The dark figure ducked out of sight. She took one step backward, and fled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Heavy footsteps echoed from behind as she plunged through the trees. They were catching up with her. Emma pushed herself to run faster, terrified she’d lose her footing on the uneven ground. The cabin loomed large, a haven in the thick fog. Stumbling across the cabin’s porch, she hurdled through the door and slammed it shut, locking it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Emma rooted her feet to keep from running around in circles. Straining to hear, she was greeted with eerie silence. Several moments passed before the baby’s cry started again. And this time, it sounded from right outside the door. </span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">***</span></b></div>
<b>THE ISLAND Buy Links:</b>
Amazon: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/pxq99em">http://tinyurl.com/pxq99em</a>
Amazon UK: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/nwbq3oz">http://tinyurl.com/nwbq3oz</a>
Amazon CA: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/q36rel8">http://tinyurl.com/q36rel8</a>
Barnes and Noble: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/zhe7cej">http://tinyurl.com/zhe7cej</a>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OKf7J7AMJVI/VpWXOn-7V-I/AAAAAAAAIBE/2ahSKKYlATY/s1600/Clarissa%2BJohal%2Bheadshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OKf7J7AMJVI/VpWXOn-7V-I/AAAAAAAAIBE/2ahSKKYlATY/s200/Clarissa%2BJohal%2Bheadshot.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<b>About the Author:</b>
Clarissa Johal is the author of paranormal novels, THE ISLAND, VOICES, STRUCK, and BETWEEN. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing, taking pictures of gargoyles, or swinging from a trapeze. She shares her life with her husband, two daughters, and every stray animal that darkens their doorstep.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Find Clarissa Online:</b>
Author Website: <a href="http://www.clarissajohal.com/">http://www.clarissajohal.com/</a>
Blog: <a href="http://clarissajohal.blogspot.com/">http://clarissajohal.blogspot.com/</a>
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/clarissa.johal.9">https://www.facebook.com/clarissa.johal.9</a>
Twitter: @ClarissaJohal
Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4502113.Clarissa_Johal">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4502113.Clarissa_Johal</a>
Amazon Author Page: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clarissa-Johal/e/B003KVTMPK/">http://www.amazon.com/Clarissa-Johal/e/B003KVTMPK/</a>
Pinterest: <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/clarissajohal/">https://www.pinterest.com/clarissajohal/</a>
Google+: <a href="https://plus.google.com/101586327494596967316/posts">https://plus.google.com/101586327494596967316/posts</a><br />
<br />
<b>WIN an ecopy of THE ISLAND by Clarissa Johal</b>
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<br />GSMarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558162486383585621noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623629498939485235.post-51607541739280203202016-03-04T00:00:00.000-07:002016-03-04T00:00:00.280-07:00Cover and first chapter reveal from The Missing by Jerico Lenk #ya #paranormal #giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SabBRIDGUpg/VtdMYFQteEI/AAAAAAAARPk/-qP1bho19lQ/s1600/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SabBRIDGUpg/VtdMYFQteEI/AAAAAAAARPk/-qP1bho19lQ/s320/Friday%2BReveal%2BBanner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today Jerico Lenk and Month9Books are
revealing the cover and first chapter for THE MISSING which releases August 30,
2016! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers to
receive an eGalley!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Here’s a short message from the author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I’m really partial to the color scheme of the
cover. Darker and gloomier blues are my aesthetic, for sure. There’s a sense of
mystery about it that feels perfectly phantasmal—and of course, the skyline of
London sells me right there!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">On to the reveal! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-frx0fZasxeQ/VtdMoBvXecI/AAAAAAAARPw/kRSm-WJu7_k/s1600/TheMissingEbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-frx0fZasxeQ/VtdMoBvXecI/AAAAAAAARPw/kRSm-WJu7_k/s640/TheMissingEbook.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Title:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> THE MISSING<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Author:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Jerico
Lenk<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Pub. Date:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> August 30, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Month9Books<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Format:</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Paperback
& eBook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Seeing is believing, and believing is seeing</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">… London in the year 1890 is smitten with the
dark and the curious. Nothing fazes sixteen-year-old Willow Winchester. Not
only has she been raised as “Will” instead of “Willow” since her mother’s
disappearance, a simple ruse and one that makes life a lot easier most of the
time, but for as long as she can remember she’s been the indiscriminate witness
to the extracurricular goings-on of what she calls the Missing—<i>ghosts</i>. But no one has ever treated it
like a good thing until the Black Cross Ministry of Mysterious Occurrences.
After accidentally interrupting a Black Cross ghost hunt, Willow takes up the
investigators’ offer to work with them, keeping peace between London’s living
and dead. In pursuit of a purpose for her supernatural gifts … and whatever the
Black Cross knows about her estranged mother … Willow learns to investigate
hauntings with a patchwork team who quickly become her new family. But some of
the dead aren’t just Missing—they’re the spirits of murder victims, and they’re
missing from public records, too! Together with her teammates, Willow struggles
to piece together clues in the victims’ memories. But can they discover the
villain’s identity in time to stop him before Willow falls right into his
hands, herself? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><br />
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Chapter One
<br />
<br />
CHAPTER ONE
<br />
<br />
My father ran a maison de passé of respectable mistresses for respectable men nicknamed, after himself, Julien’s-off-the-Strand. Under the guise of stylish after-dinner parties, it was a gentlemen’s club right out of our 110 Belgrave Square townhouse—certainly not a place for children.
<br />
<br />
But I was sixteen, hardly a child anymore, and besides, all the guests loved that I played waiter at the parties, my father’s androgynous little acolyte. They loved it nearly as much as they loved my father’s girls in their lace Oriental robes, and scandalous black stockings.
<br />
<br />
I made my rounds, weaving to and fro between the back and front drawing rooms, sporting a flashy waistcoat with silver-thread embroidery and carrying propped against my side a tray of treats, Brandy, and smoking pipes laced with the good powder. It was a little too heavy for me to display in one hand. My father had no butler, but nobody cared about proper serving decorum here, and the outrageousness of it all was just part of the fun.
<br />
<br />
“Look at you, Will, all dapper. But your collar’s crooked—” Mr. Shelby, the editor for a rather popular serial magazine, stretched from a chair to straighten my collar. I paused just long enough to accept his kindness before passing a Brandy his way.
<br />
<br />
“Make room, make room … ” Dr. Lowells said under a chuckle, parting some other men with whom he mingled near the mantle so I could slip through. One of the men snatched a pipe off my tray.
<br />
<br />
“Will—you missed it last week, unfortunately—we had Letty Lind on loan from the Gaiety!”
<br />
<br />
I blushed hot, not because I cared if Baron Berthold’s cabaret had Letty Lind on loan last week, but because I didn’t want my father or his head mistress Miss Valérie overhearing and making inferences about just how much I explored on my own.
<br />
<br />
Long after dinner now, the townhouse was full of laughter and tobacco smoke, pretty girls and lonely gentlemen. A Berliner in the back drawing room spewed a lighthearted German opera. The violent chatter of billiards echoed from the other reception room, along with bellowing voices sloshing together with ladies’ praise like champagne in glistening stemware. God knew what sort of oppression or repression or depression or humdrum Hyde Park persuasion drove men to rent a night’s companion, but bankers, scholars, bachelors, and even aristocrats sometimes, all paid an awful lot of money for an evening with one my father’s girls.
<br />
<br />
Then there was the occasional set of eyes that followed me around the place more than they followed any of my father’s girls—like tonight, a man with hair so slicked it looked like polished wood in the lamplight. I caught him staring twice and he looked away as soon as I did. The third time, his hand twitched and I knew he was about to wave me over for refreshment, so I turned sharp on my heel and marched back to the other room before he could do so.
<br />
<br />
“Here he comes, the little master of the house!”
<br />
<br />
Agatha, one of my father’s girls, and her most regular visitor waved at me from the corner, at an open window that overlooked the back garden.
<br />
<br />
“I want one of those cakes, John,” Agatha said, looking so pretty and young with her long dark hair falling casually down the back of her gauzy gown. Her visitor Mr. John Belwether plucked some sweet things from the tray. I liked when Mr. Belwether came to visit Agatha, because he treated her very nicely. They were always exchanging playful glances and secretive laughter, teasing and elbowing like brother and sister.
<br />
<br />
“Why, Will, your eyes are like a stormy summer sky,” John remarked, mustache dancing as he grinned at me around a sip of his brandywine.
<br />
<br />
“He always looks that way in the wake of his father’s neglect.” Agatha reached out and affectionately finger-combed the hair around my ears.
<br />
<br />
“Look what way?” I echoed, brow knotting. “Father’s neglect?”
<br />
<br />
“Have they always been that blue?” John insisted about my eyes.
<br />
<br />
“I think so,” I teased back.
<br />
<br />
Agatha sighed dramatically. “‘A stormy summer sky,’ he says—why can’t the man be as poetic about my eyes? My eyes are plain, then?”
<br />
<br />
John laughed and hooked an arm around Agatha’s waist, leaning forward against her even as she smiled and avoided his kisses. “Your eyes,” he said, “your eyes, sweet dove, are finer than the Crown Jewels … ”
<br />
<br />
Nina came up beside us then, prodding me in the side with her closed hand-fan. “She’s giving you that look again,” she muttered into my ear as she gracefully swiped a drink from the tray I’d rested against the side of a table.
<br />
<br />
She meant Miss Valérie. I turned a little, casting a glance around the rest of the drawing room.
<br />
<br />
Yes, elegant Miss Valérie was in her usual spot on the floral-print loveseat, smiling and watching with hooded eyes, her feet in bejeweled slippers tucked up on the sofa. My father had six girls—Athena, Agatha, Daphne, Calico, Nina, and Miss Valérie. She was the oldest, and my father’s obvious favorite. She could have been my stepmother if there were any papers to say so. In her heels and Russian sable, Miss Valérie was the head mistress, the unofficial manager of the place. She had her own room in the house while only Daphne and Agatha got a room upstairs across the attic hall from mine. The other three girls just had to show up no later than seven o’clock in the evening.
<br />
<br />
The look Nina meant was Miss Valérie’s uniquely sharp observation face, at once soft and lofty yet cold, disdaining, and very obviously critical, which could come and go in the blink of an eye. When I looked around, her eyes lingered on me a moment longer—one brow lifted a little at the corner as if she meant to say, Yes, I am looking at you. And then she was greeted by a barrister friend of my father’s so she was back to her carefully sociable character, accepting the kisses he rained on her ringed hand.
<br />
<br />
“She hates me,” I muttered as I turned around again with a sigh, raising my brows. What else was new? I was sure she thought me mollycoddled and ungrateful, some sort of inconvenience for her and my father. She reminded me of a spoiled family cat, the grumpy and fluffy kind with a ribbon on its throat that never wanted to be held.
<br />
<br />
John held his drink up as if he meant to toast. “Well!” he said. “One day, this will all be yours, you lucky little chap.”
<br />
<br />
Thump!
<br />
<br />
I leaned to the side just a bit, looking out the doorway and down the hall to the other drawing room, wondering if someone had tripped and fallen. I saw no such scene. In fact, no one else seemed to have heard the sound.
<br />
<br />
“What do you mean?” I prompted John, distractedly.
<br />
<br />
“You’ll inherit the business, won’t you?” John said. “You could send Lady Valérie off for good!”
<br />
<br />
“I suppose … ” I shrugged. I didn’t want to think about that yet. I didn’t really want to inherit the business. I had many other projects in life to which I wanted to attend, like travel or even university or—
<br />
<br />
Thump, thump-thump.
<br />
<br />
The thumping came from upstairs, like someone had jumped up and down gently on the floor of the attic room just overhead. My room. I bristled first, wondering if someone had snuck upstairs into my room instead of one of the girls’ rooms.
<br />
<br />
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
<br />
<br />
Agatha heard it. She looked to me sharply, almost demandingly, from around John’s shoulder. It was quite the ruckus, like two children playing tag or chasing hoops—
<br />
<br />
My heart sank. I realized what it was. “Oh, blast,” I hissed, not angry but a little flustered. I needed to stop the noise before anyone else noticed, especially my father. This was how it always went. I pushed the tray at John, who took it in tipsy confusion. Behind his back, Agatha urged me on with a flap of her hands.
<br />
<br />
I didn’t really hurry until I hit the stairs, because I didn’t want anyone to notice and ask what was wrong.
<br />
<br />
On the attic floor were a handful of bedrooms—one for Cook, one for the maid, Madame Zelda, one for Daphne and Agatha to share, and mine which was the largest. I already knew what was going on before I burst in.
<br />
<br />
Patter of feet, hollow giggles.
<br />
<br />
I saw them in the mirror across the room under the slanted skylights, felt the gust of air and throb of fast footsteps as Charlie and Colette dashed to and fro before me, playing some game all around the loft room.
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<br />
“Charlie!” Colette whined because Charlie was cheating per usual, peeking through his fingers. But she should have known better because Charlie always cheated.
<br />
<br />
Outside the mirror, the room was empty.
<br />
<br />
“Hey!” I said, very sternly, and the children had moved beyond the scope of the mirror but I could feel them looking at me guiltily. “Could you both kindly hush up?” I pressed, quietly but firmly. The sound of the party downstairs echoed up through the house like their play had echoed down. “You’re being very loud. You can’t have my father’s company hear you.”
<br />
<br />
“Sorry,” the two of them chorused, voices tiny and warped by the in-between. And then, just like that, they were gone like candles blown out in the wind.
<br />
<br />
Charlie and Colette were dead, after all.
<br />
<br />
A friend of their scoundrel brother’s had murdered them in the attic back in 1866. They were still here because the clothes in which they’d died were hidden under the floorboards. My father hadn’t known that when he’d acquired the townhouse, and I surely was not about to tell him, just as I surely was not about to remove the clothes after I found them in candlelight one night two years ago.
<br />
<br />
I breathed a short sigh, relieved but feeling sort of guilty. I hated telling them to quiet down. They kept Agatha and Daphne up at night a lot—scared them, more often than not—and the fact of the matter was that I felt responsible for them sometimes.
<br />
<br />
It had always been my solitary curse, anyway, to see and hear the Missing with a hypersensitivity normal men and women didn’t generally possess.
<br />
<br />
The Missing—ghosts, I mean. Spirits, phantoms, the dead. It was with an odd sense of fondness that I thought of them as the Missing, because they quite obviously weren’t completely gone, just caught somewhere in the in-between, consigned to wander mostly unseen and unnoticed by those who weren’t predisposed like I was.
<br />
<br />
When I was younger, I didn’t hesitate telling everyone, especially with the way Charlie and Colette used to get naughty and puckish around the house—moving things, playing music boxes, running up and down the stairs or grabbing people’s ankles from under beds and chairs. At first my father’s other girls cooed about my wonderful imagination and pinched my sides because I spooked them with my tales of ghost children in the attic. But very soon they realized I was not full of fancies. Now when anything out of the ordinary happened, they came to me to put a stop to it. They knew my father would fly into a fit about preposterous, illogical fears and how things like demons and ghosts were merely business tricks like the occasional séance parties during which I was banished to my room because I nitpicked the frauds. Miss Valérie was no better, and everyone had witnessed enough of my father lecturing me to know who would believe what.
<br />
<br />
“Those deplorable fancies and imaginary friends won’t get you anywhere,” my father, the frowning hypocrite, was quick to chastise. “And talking to yourself won’t, either.”
<br />
<br />
Madame Zelda didn’t lecture me, but when she caught me with books on astral projection and the occult, or found me sneaking out to see West End spirit photography and spiritualist galas, the worried shadow on her face was enough to guilt me into obedience.
<br />
<br />
“Too dangerous,” she’d whisper. “Too dangerous, Will. Please listen to your father and pay no heed to charlatans and parlor games.”
<br />
<br />
Well, nobody but Agatha or Daphne believed me, and even they only believed enough to send me off to make Charlie and Colette stop playing pranks.
<br />
<br />
I didn’t hold it against any of them because they hadn’t grown up observing the extracurricular activities of the Missing like I had. It was my ghastly cross to bear, though for what sins, I was never totally positive.
<br />
<br />
The attic was finally peaceful. “Be good and don’t cause any more ruckus tonight,” I said to Charlie and Colette, if they were even there to listen anymore. “I mean it.”
<br />
<br />
Voices muffled and thin, like they’d hidden behind the attic door, full of mischief yet, they chimed, “Yes, Will!”
<br />
<br />
***
<br />
<br />
“What’s the matter, Will?” my father asked as I came down from the attic and back into the noise and splendor.
<br />
<br />
“Nothing, of course,” I said, letting him tousle my hair and give a loving pat to my shoulder, reminders of fatherly affection that came easily to him after a few drinks but were never enough to distract from his duties as business host and man of the house.
<br />
<br />
He went off toward the front drawing room and I hurried back to where I’d left Agatha and the others—but just as I stepped through the doorway, a hand closed on my arm and I staggered to a halt, looking around in bristled dismay.
<br />
<br />
But it was just Athena, only one half of her lit by the drawing room lights and the other draped in the dimness of the hall.
<br />
<br />
And something wasn’t right.
<br />
<br />
Athena’s face was white. Her lower lip quivered and a veneer of tears sharpened her owl-eyed stare. The last time she’d looked at me like that, Charlie had chased her down the stairs sometime after midnight, laughing and tugging at the ribbons on her dress.
<br />
<br />
Yet somehow I knew even before Athena opened her mouth to speak that it had nothing to do with ghost children’s pranks.
<br />
<br />
“It’s Daphne,” Athena choked out, looking like an overgrown doll with her Empire silhouette and cold, fearful confusion. “Daphne’s left, Will. She told me she was really through with it all this time, and couldn’t even bear the rest of the night—she’s headed to Waterloo—”
<br />
<br />
My heart fell and some awful intuitive ringing in the ears swallowed all the noise around. Everything except for the German romping from the Berliner in the corner, like a soundtrack to the gnawing dread. I did not even realize until then that Calico had followed Athena over. She looked between Athena and me sharply, as aware as anyone in the house that Daphne was my best friend. Sometimes I felt guilt for how obvious it was, but tonight there wasn’t time for that. The miserable finger of protective terror pierced right through me as I shook loose of Athena’s grip so suddenly, I almost knocked the cigarette out of some gentleman’s hand as he passed by us.
<br />
<br />
I didn’t even have to ask to understand immediately—but ask I did.
<br />
<br />
“Do you think she really means it tonight?” I sputtered.
<br />
<br />
How many times had Daphne said those words empty of action before? And how many times would we continue to fear the worst?
<br />
<br />
“I watched her leave!” Athena’s face pinched, and then she burst into tears. “Will, I’m scared! I don’t think she’s coming back—”
<br />
<br />
I shoved my way out of the party, hardly even noticing those I collided with. As Athena hurried after me, I heard Calico simper, “There he goes, little Romeo, after his precious Daphne … ”
<br />
<br />
But she didn’t get it. Daphne was my best friend. Daphne was my favorite, to be honest. Daphne, who sat by me on cold winter nights to read Fun and Tales of the Dead. Daphne, who went off on long threads with me about Apollo and Dionysus and the fall of Rome when the stars were spinning overhead, and sneaked green fairy was fresh on the tongue. Daphne, who was the most like a sister to me out of all my father’s girls, so close to me in age—Daphne, who never complained and never said bad things about others and who hid a terrible aching sadness behind her dimpled smile—my Daphne, whom I wanted to trust with not just my petty secrets, but my real secrets, because she trusted me with hers, too—
<br />
<br />
Instinct drove me. I didn’t think to grab my coat, not even when Madame Zelda called down the stairs for me to remember it. How perfect was she? No, I just flew out the door with Athena on my heels, and my father’s demanding voice echoing after us:
<br />
<br />
“What the devil—the bad deportment—where are you two off to like this? Come back!”
<br />
<br />
I couldn’t. Daphne was about to do something unspeakable, and I couldn’t let her, so it was straight to the Bridge of Sighs with Athena’s clammy hand tight in mine. I wanted to run, but it was too dark and mucky, and Athena wouldn’t have kept up in her satin slippers. Instead we stole a hansom cab from a group of distracted gentlemen, apologizing out the window.
<br />
<br />
I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to imagine Daphne really meant to jump from the bridge tonight and end it all. My heart felt like a glass prism waiting to shatter into a million pieces.
<br />
<br />
“I can’t!” Athena moaned as the cab rattled to a stop at the better end of Waterloo Bridge, which was particularly inhospitable and glum. I was already halfway out and on the ground. “I’m scared, Will! Haven’t you heard about the Wraith at Waterloo?”
<br />
<br />
Of course, I’d heard the latest gossip about a ghost haunting the despicable Waterloo Bridge. Who hadn’t? It was some of the most popular parlor talk of the season. But even if I wasn’t well-acquainted with the Missing, my fear of Daphne’s demise was greater than the fear of some infamous specter.
<br />
<br />
“It’s all right, Athena,” I promised. “You wait here for me. I’ll be back with Daphne.”
<br />
<br />
I hoped. I hoped and prayed I’d be back with Daphne.
<br />
<br />
Through the fog, I barreled up Waterloo. Athena stayed with the cab. Oddly enough, the bridge was almost vacant, except for a few men in overcoats huddled under a streetlamp. The slap of water distorted the echo of the city around me, making it seem far away from this desperate moment. Horses, coaches, voices …
<br />
<br />
“Daphne!” I cried, voice hoarse. “Daphne!”
<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry!” Athena was sobbing now, calling from the cab at the corner. “I’m sorry I told him when I promised not to, Daphne, but I couldn’t let you do it, I couldn’t—”
<br />
<br />
I saw Daphne’s silhouette through the nighttime mist, standing at the side of the bridge. A numbing sort of relief washed through me. Ah, thank God! She hadn’t jumped—she hadn’t even climbed up yet—she was just looking down into the water, courting unthinkable dangers to be in this place alone at night—
<br />
<br />
I staggered to a sudden halt, breath ripping from my chest.
<br />
<br />
No, there she was, on the other side of the road. I blamed the fragile panic for mistaking a stranger for her, my Daphne, whom I recognized every inch of as she clung to the stone of the bridge, midnight wind tugging and yanking at her thin coat and gown. Either she hadn’t heard us yelling for her, or she was that lost to the tides of her worst feelings. I had to get her down. I would never forgive myself if I watched her jump, too late to grab her off the ledge—
<br />
<br />
I bolted forward, but I tripped over a tight wire and hit the cobbles hard as a series of bells apparently attached to the imperceptible string rang to announce my gracelessness.
<br />
<br />
I bit my tongue when my chin hit the stone. The pain circled my jaw and the taste of blood bloomed on my tongue. “Christ Almighty!” I howled. “What even is all this?”
<br />
<br />
I was angry. But I was also a mess of vicious emotions, and so it was very easy to misdirect the feelings as lamplight sparked off a whole web of strings and bells, a perimeter posted on the cobbles of one side of Waterloo Bridge. I hadn’t even noticed them—that is until I’d snagged myself on one. What on earth?
<br />
<br />
Daphne—
<br />
<br />
My chin throbbed. I stained my sleeve wiping the blood from my lower lip, spitting a little bit of red at my feet. But those things became trivial concerns as panic seized me again. I looked up and saw Daphne on the stone, barefoot, gauzy skirts dancing about her naked ankles. Her slippers sat discarded at the base of the lamppost.
<br />
<br />
I stomped on some of the wires so they snapped underfoot, to clear my path. Bells rang shrilly from the broken tension as I bounded across the bridge. Ears ringing, heart pounding, terror gripped me icy and certain—but the moment my fingers closed around Daphne’s wind-chilled wrist, I knew everything was going to be okay.
<br />
<br />
I pulled her off the ledge, tumbling down all flaring petticoat and pearls. This time when I hit the stone, I had Daphne in my grasp, and her damp hair in my mouth, and the ground bit at my elbows but I didn’t even care. With all the feel of a porcelain figurine falling to shards on the floor, Daphne shattered into tears against my shoulder.
<br />
<br />
It was hardly a sweet triumph. It felt sore and heavy on the soul, and did it make me selfish to feel so wounded beyond the relief? I couldn’t believe Daphne would have actually gone to end her life without saying goodbye to me—I couldn’t stand to think she was still that unhappy inside, in spite of all the smiles and laughter—
<br />
<br />
“I almost did it!” Daphne moaned, not really crying, just hiccupping on shocked gasps like she’d been under some sort of spell and my yanking her to the ground had broken it. “I almost did it, Will, oh God, I almost did it—”
<br />
<br />
There was no time for us to recover from the little adventure.
<br />
<br />
The men who’d been clustered a few lampposts down suddenly hovered over us, two of them casting hateful scowls and the other pair looking torn between curiosity and obligation in the midst of the crisis—a young bachelor with messy hair whose tetchy countenance ruined his handsome face, another, very tall and broad and fierce-looking even with tiny spectacles perched atop his head, an antsy and nervous third with a knapsack, and a fourth who was only about my size and probably not much older.
<br />
<br />
“You’re interfering with our investigation!” the messy-haired bachelor roared.
<br />
<br />
“Are you two all right?” the one about my size sputtered out. He had a dark softness about him that brought to mind paintings of martyred saints and cupids. His eyes were two different colors—that is, one was gray and fogged like there was no color to it at all. “That was quite the fall!”
<br />
<br />
“You ruined all our bells! Do you know how long it took to set those up?”
<br />
<br />
“Clement, the ambience compass is going wild—” The nervous one was somewhat skeletal, with that awkward course of motion that long gangly people have.
<br />
<br />
The tall man with the spectacles helped us off the ground. “Be a gentleman and take your lady home now, sir. She’s safe, and we’re in the middle of something.”
<br />
<br />
“All our bells, God damn it—”
<br />
<br />
“Please, go,” the bespectacled man urged again, gruffly. “You’re just in the way now, boy.”
<br />
<br />
“Daphne!” Athena called from the corner in a ragged sob of relief. She’d watched the entire timely rescue. Daphne pulled away and darted down the bridge, colliding with Athena in a tangle of tears and messy curls at the cab. She left her shoes.
<br />
<br />
“You set up those bells?” The panic didn’t really subside, just coiled in on itself and sharpened into fury. Real gentlemen wouldn’t have dared turn an almost-crisis back around for their good. But maybe they weren’t real gentlemen. Or maybe my impression of gentlemen was skewed by my father’s line of work. The silhouette of the other girl was there again, only a few lamps up the bridge. Staring at us, it seemed. Ah—there was that familiar feeling. I understood.
<br />
<br />
The peculiar ladylike shadow was not alive.
<br />
<br />
I wouldn’t let it distract me. The Missing didn’t know when it was rude to interrupt, and she’d probably leave us alone. I hissed, “Those wires could kill a man who doesn’t know they’re there—”
<br />
<br />
“Well, you’re not dead, are you?” the grouchy one snorted.
<br />
<br />
“Clement—the ambience compass—”
<br />
<br />
“Quinn, tell Clement to let it alone—it is our fault, after all.”
<br />
<br />
Somewhere beyond the embankment, laughter echoed from crepuscular crowds. The hair rose on the back of my neck and a faint ringing shivered in my ears. I knew what it meant. I knew the shift in the silence too well. Where was that wretched silhouette? Gone again. There was something unsettling about it. Charlie and Colette didn’t give me such a feeling of dread; I tried to avoid any Missing that made the air hard to breathe.
<br />
<br />
“There’s something else here,” I blurted before even realizing I’d said it aloud, backing away from the arguing men. But I didn’t have a chance to explain and they didn’t have a chance to question me.
<br />
<br />
Up from the ground sprang that silhouette, right there between us and blocking my view of the messy-haired and loudmouthed one the men had called Clement.
<br />
<br />
It was a featureless black shape at first, but then the silhouette’s details shivered forth, clear as day. With wide, bloodshot eyes and sunken cheeks, her hair flowed about her face as lusciously and unnaturally as a drop of ink in water. A terrible, shrill wheezing sound rang through my ears, a new and more violent panic clanging its alarm in my heart.
<br />
<br />
The Wraith at Waterloo!
<br />
<br />
Just as I managed to look through the ghost again, meeting the startled eyes of Clement, a gust that reeked of the Thames hit me and dissolved into fingers around my neck. I gagged with the blow like I’d been punched in the throat.
<br />
<br />
It was so cold. I screamed. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. My throat was full of water.
<br />
<br />
I tried desperately to collect my scrambled thoughts, but a breath like a tomb being pried open crept through me like the damn wraith had reached into my gasping mouth and was trying to take over my body. A sensation of doom stirred in me suddenly, an unbridled wave of sadness and fear and emptiness surging through with every throb of my heart. And then all my bearings were utterly ripped away from me, and I tumbled backward—
<br />
<br />
I opened my eyes. I could breathe again.
<br />
<br />
I sat on a crooked bed in a dingy, cluttered room where echoes swirled all around, incomprehensible and warped, like they came from under water.
<br />
<br />
For one blessed instant, I decided I must have passed out and been brought somewhere to recover by the dubious foursome on the bridge.
<br />
<br />
But then I knew that was not so.
<br />
<br />
It wasn’t so because I wasn’t myself anymore. When I turned to a smudged little looking-glass sitting next to me, the face I saw was not my own.
<br />
<br />
It was the dead girl’s, and her name was Kitty.
<br />
<br />
How did I know that?
<br />
<br />
I had no explanation. I drew a slow breath, forcing myself to look. Not at my reflection, no—
<br />
<br />
Her reflection.
<br />
<br />
But it seemed to be mine, too!
<br />
<br />
In some inharmonious rush of colors and lights and smells and muffled sounds, this was Kitty’s life, and I knew it because I was Kitty.
<br />
<br />
I knew hunger and poverty. I knew the burn of being disparaged and browbeaten. I knew too many siblings and not enough love. Mother pitied me. Father hated me. I knew the shiver of cold desperation as it sliced through me and I saw street after street, and man after man, and the business of the bed, lying flat on my back, the air cold on bare skin. The collision of scenes was disorienting, degrading. Every sane bit of me wailed for release. No, no, no, what was all this torment? It felt so dirty and wrong; pray this was some squalid nightmare far from the lovely life my father gave his ladies at Julien’s-off-the-Strand!
<br />
<br />
Then there was Darcy James and his morphine dreams, and Darcy James’s touch made my heart swell because Kitty’s heart swelled. And when Kitty vomited everything she ate into a rusty pail in the corner, I vomited everything I ate into that same rusty pail, prisoner of the scene.
<br />
<br />
Help! I tried to scream, but it hurt because my voice got trapped in my throat and went nowhere.
<br />
<br />
My head was going to explode if this kept up. My eyes would bulge out of my skull, and my mind would ooze bloody from every orifice and … Bethnal Green, dress houses, white powder, Darcy James, whore, whore, whore!
<br />
<br />
The stone of Waterloo Bridge was icy and slick below my bare feet. I leaned out until there was nothing to hold me, and I fell into the Thames, taking deep breaths and choking on the dirty water because I wanted to die, because Darcy James stopped coming because he was married now. He had moved to the country, and I was tired of being a dirty, lonely, forsaken whore, and there were so many voices, so many buzzing whispering voices closing in on me, all the voices and screams of the more deteriorated Missing as they clawed and tore at the strange void where I was now, somewhere in between the in-between and—
<br />
<br />
I’m pretty positive that’s when the towering man they called Quinn slapped me across the face.
<br />
<br />
I sucked in a stuttering breath as my eyes rolled open to the fog and the nighttime sky. This Quinn fellow hovered over me in his leather overcoat, his thin wire spectacles dropped to his nose again. I didn’t even care that Quinn had hit me. This close, I could really see his dark curls and the shadow of his beard. I grabbed for something to hold on to, crouched on unswaying ground but still reeling.
<br />
<br />
The strange trance-like stream of visions had ceased, and I struggled against shocked tears and heaving gasps.
<br />
<br />
God, but that had never happened to me before. There was something so personal about it, feeling a spirit’s agony and utter hatred for the living. Something so shaking, so jarring, so traumatic … The Missing could change the feel in an empty room, sure, but—never in my life had I felt it like it was my own before—
<br />
<br />
Quinn coached me through a few shuddering breaths until I realized I wasn’t actually drowning.
<br />
<br />
“I saw—” I coughed again. Quinn kept one arm around me. “I saw it all—”
<br />
<br />
“What did you see?” the nervous-looking one asked, far too spirited for my comfort. His Irish accent wasn’t unsettling, but he was waiting impatiently to write down whatever I said, and I didn’t like that. I tried to push him away.
<br />
<br />
“O’Brien!” the one my age hissed. “Give him some room, man, for Christ’s sake … ”
<br />
<br />
Daphne—Athena—they needed to get home now—and Kitty—
<br />
<br />
“Where’s Kitty?” I demanded, turning roughly against Quinn’s thick shoulder. “Where’d the bloody wench go?”
<br />
<br />
O’Brien’s face pinched up as if he’d taken offense to that on Kitty’s behalf. I couldn’t care. “Kitty?” he echoed, perplexed.
<br />
<br />
I writhed out of Quinn’s strong hands, tripping over Daphne’s shoes as I threw myself against the stone to get sick off the side of the bridge.
<br />
<br />
Spitting a little bit of blood still, this time with the unpleasant tang of vomit, I turned back to the men more meekly than before.
<br />
<br />
“What just happened?” I croaked, breath quivering on my lower lip. I was utterly lost, but … admittedly galvanized.
<br />
<br />
“A mild possession,” Quinn grunted casually.
<br />
<br />
Mild possession! Christ!
<br />
<br />
Clement seemed to try his very best to mimic Quinn’s previous compassion as he looked me right in the eye and asked in a cool, calculative manner, “What was her full name, boy? Could you discern the year? Can you recall any details whatsoever?”
<br />
<br />
“Kittredge Ann McGowell,” I husked, eyes wide, and the most frightening part was that I hadn’t even had to think about it. Wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve one last time, I just knew it, and I felt so very violated by the knowledge. “From Bethnal Green. She jumped—”
<br />
<br />
“Suicides,” Quinn interrupted, nodding his head decisively. “Told you. She’s still here, Clement. Malevolent echo. Knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The ambience compass is going mad, you see?”
<br />
<br />
I stared dumbly at the tool they’d been calling the ambience compass, its little arrow stuttering and jerking in wild readings. Finally I realized it measured the change in the air that came with the Missing. What a strange little invention—it seemed magical, except that it was all too real. Could it really read what I felt so naturally when the Missing showed up to play?
<br />
<br />
What came next was an absolute whirlwind.
<br />
<br />
“What’s going on?” I demanded hoarsely.
<br />
<br />
Quinn grabbed me by the collar and ordered, “You’re staying until we collect your testimony.”
<br />
<br />
“What?” I sputtered. “I can’t—I have to get Daphne and Athena home—are you from the press?”
<br />
<br />
“Kingsley can take them home,” Clement announced, gesturing to the young man about my age. “Can’t you, Kingsley?”
<br />
<br />
Kingsley’s face pinched. “Ah, I suppose I can … ”
<br />
<br />
“A malevolent residual,” O’Brien mumbled to himself as he wrote.
<br />
<br />
“A malevolent echo,” Quinn corrected.
<br />
<br />
Clement sighed. “Oh, they’re just my favorite,” he complained.
<br />
<br />
“Sorry, but … ” I almost swallowed my question at all their curt glances. “What does all that mean?”
<br />
<br />
“A residual is an unintelligent spirit attached to a location by lingering emotion, usually due to the circumstances of their life or death,” Kingsley answered as Quinn ignored me once again and Clement’s lip curled at my ignorance. “An echo is a semi-intelligent residual.”
<br />
<br />
A system of classification to the Missing was something new to me. Something new and strangely fascinating, sinking its teeth right into the heart of my worst curiosity. Like some strange siren song in the dark, I wasn’t angry anymore—now I was loath to leave. My heart thundered. A cold but revitalizing thrill had infected me. What were these men doing? How did they know that? This was normal to them?
<br />
<br />
“Malevolent echo, that’s precisely what I thought, too.” Clement heaved a dissatisfied sigh. “Certainly suicide would leave enough bad energy for that.”
<br />
<br />
“But so many jump so often—”
<br />
<br />
“Precisely.”
<br />
<br />
“What are we to do?” owl-eyed Kingsley urged as a few miserable coaches rattled by. “Mr. Zayne’s, Clement?”
<br />
<br />
“Yes. Zayne’s it is.”
<br />
<br />
“Stop!”
<br />
<br />
All four of them halted and looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. I was shaking. But I was also terribly turned on to the whole affair. They spoke of the Missing like they were a normal thing. They were cool and composed, like interacting with the Missing was hardly surprising. They weren’t afraid, they weren’t judging, and they weren’t rationalizing like skeptics, either, and—
<br />
<br />
I met Clement’s narrowed eyes grimly, standing my ground. “I must insist I will not be giving you my testimony, whatever you need my testimony for, unless you take me with you to see what you’re doing.” I wanted to know. Oh God, I needed to know. “And I have to return Daphne and Athena home safely first.”
<br />
<br />
The other three all looked to Clement. Clement gawked at me. For all his rotten attitude, he really was actually quite young. Tired-looking, but young. His jaw tightened, and he squinted at me harder, seemingly resenting my unnegotiable conditions.
<br />
<br />
“Fine,” he conceded coarsely. “Let’s go.”
<br />
<br />
I thought maybe they’d part ways with us regardless, but they truly followed us back to Julien’s-off-the-Strand—where the night’s reception was still spinning along like nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. That hurt a little.
<br />
<br />
“Will, what are you doing?” Daphne hissed as I handed her shoes back to her on the stoop. There was a strange wide-eyed peace about her now, like she was in shock she’d almost done it. Almost jumped. Almost died … “Your father will not be happy. You don’t know those men. You can’t—”
<br />
<br />
“You don’t understand,” I insisted, pushing her and Athena to the door. “This is something I must do for myself.”
<br />
<br />
Yes, something I had to do for myself—to see if there were others like me who were the indiscriminate witnesses to the motions of the Missing, and what might become of someone with a curse like that.
<br />
<br />
“But Will—”
<br />
<br />
“I think you owe it to me after that stunt tonight, don’t you, Daphne?”
<br />
<br />
Daphne’s face hardened. Curls all broken up and windblown about her shoulders, she mumbled, “Abandon your high horse, Will Winchester. We all have our demons.”
<br />
<br />
What was I supposed to do? What was I to say? That finally I had the chance to talk one-on-one with spiritualists who might actually believe what I said? That I’d finally found spiritualists who were more truth than fraud? Could I even speak words with that dreadful lump in my throat?
<br />
<br />
“What am I to tell your father, then?” Daphne asked wearily, tearstained and shivering and looking far too fragile for my liking.
<br />
<br />
“Tell him nothing.” I shrugged. I kissed her cheek. And then I sprinted down the block to where the men from the bridge waited in their cabs.
<br />
<br />
I was ready.
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Jerico Lenk has always been spellbound
by the haunting and the historic. He loves ghost stories, romance novels,
transgressive fiction, and "fanfic" that's sometimes all of that in
one. When not writing, he also dabbles in acting, modeling, and other art which
can be seen on his personal blog. Although Seattle is his hometown, he's
currently studying English (Creative Writing), History, and Russian Studies at
USF Tampa.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://jericolenk.tumblr.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/themissinglenk">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://instagram.com/themissinglenk/">Instagram</a>
| <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13602234.Jerico_Lenk">Goodreads</a></span><br />
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