Claren Maidstone has been forced to flee her childhood home after the death of her parents and a vicious assault from a sadistic young man who intends to marry her. Claren changes her identity and finds employment as an assistant to the handsome Fredrick Lowood, a generous yet mysterious benefactor. However, she soon finds out his generosity comes at a price. Fredrick wishes for Claren to befriend his disfigured son who resides in seclusion at their estate, Westwind.
Fredrick Lowood knows what the history books do not teach, that the Grand Council built this new world of peace and beauty on hidden blood and greed. He has plotted for years to bring down the family that enslaved his own people. Suddenly, he has the last living heir in his grasp.
Etrigan Lowood rejects the world that forces him to hide. He is powerful, plagued with a terrible dark beauty: WINGS. It is these wings that carry him out only at night to watch the unwanted intruder in his home. A creature of refined instinct yet little social grace, he is strangely captivated by Claren but knows nothing of how her family’s dark past is intertwined with his own . Through their blossoming friendship, Etrigan realizes he still retains his human heart and yearns for Claren’s love.
Kurten Wandsworth is the only son of the Mayor of St.Marhen. Kurten lives his life fueled by cruelty and lust. Whatever he wants he takes and he wants Claren to be his wife even it if kills her. Scarred by Claren he hunts her down mercilessly until he can set a trap which she will never be able to escape from.
Author Astrid Yrigollen has stopped by today with a teaser of her new book His Black Wings.
Prologue
I didn’t know what to say, so I sat there stupidly. He grinned at me from behind white teeth. His ice blue eyes held a coldness and judgment I had not seen before. My heart fluttered and felt like a huge fish was rolling over in my breast. “Well?” He said as he traced the outline of my knee through my heavy skirt with his slender, white finger. “What is your wish, Claren?” My heart, upon hearing him use my real name beat harder. I felt the adrenaline push itself through my veins. He seemed to be aware of it, and licked his lips quickly. “I don t know what is it you ask Sir.” I stammered, my own voice sounding as a child’s would when confronted with some wrong doing. He had used my real name. Was it safe to assume he knew who I really was? He stopped smiling and cocked his head to one side, contemplating me. “But you do Claren, you know very well what I want, what you want.” How did it ever come to this? I thought franticly. What was I going to do, now that he knew who I was? He seemed to read my thoughts in my eyes because he answered my question without it ever being posed. "What will I do indeed? What can I do is the question, Claren. Here we are on a train, bound for the quaint countryside. No alarm has been raised, no Porter is valiantly trying to fight for your honor or to even help and cover your embarrassment, your lies. Thus, it shall remain so. At least, until we arrive at our destination." “Then what?” I questioned quietly. I am resolved to die, but not without a fight. He knows this. That is why he will not attempt to take me here, on a train full of people. My question hangs in the air between us, like a solid thing. He still has not answered as the whistle of our train shrieks into the wind, we race into the tunnel, blackness engulfing our private car.
Astrid started her writing career when she begun work for the international video game giant, Sega of America. Working her way up the ranks, she began writing companion guides for games. With a love for writing fiction since childhood, she took her short stories out of storage and had her first story ever written published. It was only after that she found out that first stories are never published!
She has resumed writing full time and has succeeded in putting out the titles, TheDoughnut Tree, Mysterious Pootkins , and The Mosswoods to name a few. Her short stories have appeared in the literary Threshold Press␣ and Shock and Awe Magazine.
She finds writing for young adults both refreshing and challenging. She always wishes to provide examples of positive role models, conflict resolving methods and communication for young adults with their parents or guardians.
For far too long these sailor-drowning, ship-sinking sea sirens have been portrayed as happy, peaceful creatures who want nothing more than to fall in love with a prince and live happily ever after. Undertow is an unconventional twist on one of the oldest mythological creatures known to man.
The room reminded Zoe of an oversized English conservatory, filled with deep sea plants that swayed gently in the gentle currents that seeped into the room. There were sponges, a variety of corals and sea weeds. Among these crawled sea slugs, starfish, crabs, lobsters and other sea creatures. Nestled among the garden there were statues, cannons and figureheads, but the centrepiece belonged to a massive black grand piano. The black lacquered wood shone even in the muted lights, upon a plinth at the centre of the garden.
“It’s beautiful,” Zoe breathed. Nox smiled as he began to lead her upwards to the piano before settling behind it. Zoe perched beside him on the stool.
“I love it, too. I come in here a lot, just to play and be alone. I think music is like therapy for me. It helps me make sense of the crazy world I‘m in, or at least drowns it out for a while.”
“Play something for me,” Zoe pleaded.
Nox fumbled a couple of notes then began to play. Zoe shut her eyes as he began to sing, his voice dragging her into a dizzying depth, the sounds of the piano carrying magically underwater. Zoe could feel him move beside her as he threw himself heart and soul into the song. Zoe could feel herself being dragged into that place along with him. Nox’s voice sounded a lot like Josiah’s, but his voice had a deeper, more resonant sound. The effect on Zoe was the same; she found herself being swept away by his music.
When Nox finished he placed his arm around her waist. This time Zoe couldn’t repress the shiver which came partially from his cold touch but also from every nerve ending tingling after listening to him sing. Nox must have noticed her reaction, because he looked down at her, bit his lip and shifted away, his face falling dramatically. Zoe watched as he rested his hands on the top of the piano, twisting the silver ring on his thumb with a pained look on his face.
“I’m sorry. It’s not ‒” Zoe tried to explain.
“No. No, it’s not you. It’s me. This. Us. It’s wrong,” Nox’s voice whispered in her mind. “You shouldn’t be forced into it like this. I want to be with you, but not like this.”
Its weird right but as an author I could tell you about my characters inside out and yet when people ask me to talk about myself I go all quiet. Anyways, here I go.
I am a child of ‘91 born in Jandowae, a tiny little town out past Dalby. When I was five my parents decided to pack everything up and move to Tonga in the South Pacific after Dad visited there and mum fell in love with the place after reading a book about it. So I grew up in a third world country, fluent in a second language by the time I was eight and lived amongst the locals who I was friends with.
When I was thirteen my father passed away and due to the fact that the government refused to pay my mum a pension over there like they did my father, we were forced to move back to Australia.
As for my writing career, I started writing progressively longer short stories in Grade 5 where one teacher noted on my report card that ‘I had unique ideas and an unusual talent’. By Grade 7 I had completed my first novel a post-apocalyptic fiction where cats are the highest life form and live basically as we do and follows the lives of a litter of cats, the characters based on a litter of cats belonging to my neighbour. I continued writing different things from horsey stories to Phantom of the Opera fan-fiction right through my teenage years, nothing serious, mostly just a lot of scribbling.
In Grade 12 I realized that if I was going to be serious about being a writer I needed to finish stories, not just have a lot of random scribbles to my name. So forgoing all my assignments I finished my second book called Dynamite which is an Australiana tale about a racehorse. Two years later I went on holidays to Fiji, came home and three months later Undertow was completed. In the middle there I wrote a Tolkien-esque fantasy epic called The Dark Assassin with my now ex-boyfriend. The year after that I completed Hazardous, which will be my next published title.
The very first review of my book contained phrases such as: “beautifully written story” and “difficult to put this book down for even a second”. You would think that receiving a rave review on your debut novel would be a thrill of a lifetime. It seems like it should be this amazing vindication. Instead, I found myself doubting my book even more. I thought, it must be a fluke. No one could be this excited about MY book. Then another review came in: “packed with so much emotion it just resonates with you.” And another. “An emotionally touching story.” And so on. Mingled with the butterflies of excitement was the anticipation that my book could still fail. That these reviews were all just anomalies. It's a peculiar thing, putting out your creative work for others to read and critique. For the writer, it's so personal, so exposing. It represents the heart and soul of an individual who agonized over every word, every character, every decision. Even when your novel is highly rated, you wonder if readers really understood each subtle nuance. You question their sincerity and even their authority to be making judgments about your work. And those are only the good reviews. Negative reviews, on the other hand, have two results. The first is to confirm every weakness you already knew existed in your story, and make you kick yourself for not doing that fiftieth revision. The second is to expose the fact that no matter how well crafted or well intended a story is, some people just won't get it.
I don't know how many good reviews it takes for any creative person, authors included, to feel like a success. Ultimately, success or failure is relative to your own goals, and therefore deeply personal. For myself, having the courage to put my work out into the hands of readers, not knowing how they would respond, is a success. And that I have moved some readers with my story, so much so they feel compelled to write me notes like this: “I'm humbled and honored to have read your debut. I wonder if you have any idea just how great an author you are.” Well, that has to be enough to put myself through this beautiful agony of being a published author.
A Part To Play
By: Jennifer L. Fry
When fifteen-year-old actress Lucy Carter loses her older sister in
a car accident, her mother shuts down and her father can’t hold the family
together. Their only choice is to ship Lucy off to the Edmond School for
Performing Arts. But boarding school is no cure for Lucy’s grief. With failing
grades, wooden stage performances, and curfew violations, Lucy is threatened
with expulsion. For the once talented Lucy, it feels as though she has nowhere
to turn.
One night, Lucy hears mysterious music drifting through the school’s
old heating system. The music leads her to a troubled but passionate songwriter
whose brilliance gives her the strength to perform like never before. Yet their
intense relationship puts Lucy in a precarious position: if she follows her
muse, will she lose herself? And if she breaks it off, can she stand on her own
again?
Jennifer L. Fry is a writer, artist, and teacher in Marin County, California, where she lives with her wonderful husband, two adorable dogs, and orange tabby cat. Though she has been writing since she was young, A Part to Play is her first novel.
Thrown together by the cruelties of a modern day world in which genuine compassion is rare, evil abounds, and goodness is often tainted by the fight to survive, two unusually gifted teenagers discover they are linked by a fairytale told them repeatedly throughout their youth by their late mothers.
Destiny awaits them, but first they must locate the others, as the fairytale foretells, to defeat the evil monster who waits and change the lonely world in which they live. Only then will they find peace... and family.
And now an excerpt from The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale by P.G. Shriver:
The cold, dim room saddened the visitor upon entry. Immediately, with a slap, he flipped the light switch up, drew the shades back, and placed the cheerful pot of daisies in the center of the shelf. In that location, the daisies sat in view of the shallowly breathing patient, should she awaken. He knew better, though.
He seated himself next to the hospital bed, in the uncomfortable wooden chair, the seat cushion so well used little padding remained, lumps forming beneath the green plastic coating. Reaching out, he took a slender, limp, dark hand in his own, and then gently began stroking the forehead and hair of the sleeping beauty before him with his free hand. Tears pooled in his dark eyes while guilt flooded his heart.
"Momma, I'm here. I know you already know that, and I realize I haven't been here in a while. I haven't exactly been doin' things that would make you proud the past few months, either, and I'm sorry.
“I hope you don't know too much about that, but I've just been so angry. Just be glad I ain't in jail," he paused, waited, hoped that her eyes would flutter and he would see that disappointing look she would always give him when he transgressed. Her silence pushed him onward in the one-sided discussion.
"You'll never guess what happened to me this morning," excitement shook his voice, muffled only slightly by a guilty tone, and flowed on hopefully, making him sound almost chipper. "I was doin' somethin' I shouldn'ta been doin', one of them things you wouldn't be proud of? And this girl walked up, ya' know?" he paused again, this time not for a response from the comatose woman before him, but out of fear that what he was about to tell her would be overheard, as well as a little disbelief over what had happened.
Anyone listening outside might think him crazy when they heard the description of what he saw that morning, what he wanted his mother to know. After raising his eyes to the open door and the shuttered window looking out on an empty hall, he leaned forward, close to her left ear, her light, slow breath slightly warming his cool forehead, "I saw Bree this morning, Momma. Really! I saw her, and she told me I had to come see you. She made it sound really important, Momma... you know... like you might wake up today or somethin'. She knew I hadn't been here in a while, too. Her smile, Momma, man I surely miss her smile. Remember how pretty she smiled, Momma? Remember the sparkle in her eyes? I saw her today, Momma, and it made me so happy, but it made me feel guilty, too." He stopped, stood for a second, leaned forward again, and gripped the slender, brown hand firmer, a sense of urgency filling his heart.
"Wake up, Momma. You can wake up now; you can come back to me; it's safe, really. I really need you, especially now. At least give me a sign you can hear me, Momma, please?" a tear rolled down his soft, plum cheek, but her eyes were dry, motionless and tightly closed. When no sign came, he scooted back in the chair, folded his hands together, set his elbows on the edge of the bed and bowed his head in silent prayer, something he hadn't done in months, since he had given up on her… on life.
Born in California, and raised in Minnesota and Texas, P.G. spent her early years writing poetry and winning poetry contests, while escaping the drama in her own childhood by reading great books for children. Ever since her earliest days, she loved story telling. She wrote numerous short stories in High School and her early college years, continually trying to relive that first experience at the age of seven of seeing her name in print in the local newspaper.
P.G. sought her education at the University of Texas, where she studied English, literature, and Education. During the entire process of earning her BA and M.Ed, she never stopped writing and trying to be published. It was during this time that her first children's book No More Stinkbugs! was accepted for publication by Castle Keep Press. Many of her stories develop from nature.
P.G. graduated college and began her career in education, another great world that offered real experiences to humor and delight through children's books. She watched children interact, bringing to surface her own experiences as a child and yet more events to write about. While teaching, she discovered many great books for young people, such as The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963, Maniac Magee, So. B. It and many more. She is a fan of Dean Koontz novels, too, and loves reading fantasy and paranormal books.
P.G. was married 20 years in March 2012 and has a bright, young daughter who has begun her own college career. She lives on a small farm in Texas with her family and animals. P.G. has experienced great love and loss throughout her life. Those her family has lost have dedications in her books.
P.G. has two young adult books published, Dead Perfect and The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale the first book in The Gifted Ones Trilogy. She also has several children's books written under Gean Penny, her pseudonym. P. G. has since dissolved her contract for her first book with Castle Keep Press and moved the title to her own imprint, Gean Penny Books.
"Savannah wanted to kiss him, but she had never even kissed a human guy before, let alone a ghost. How was she supposed to kiss him if he wasn't really there?"
Savannah has never been in love before, but she's in love with Hunter Emmerton. He's cute, funny, charming...and a ghost. How can you date someone if nobody else can see them?
After seventeen-year-old Savannah Fraser and her three friends are killed in a car accident, they are given a second chance at life by a group of hundred-year-old teenage earthbound spirits who need their help.
Savannah and her friends learn that they are The Chosen Ones, which means they can switch between human and spirit form, heal people and control the weather. And they are also now invincible.
The Chosen Ones are the only ones who can defeat The Forces - a group of evil spirits who are slowly destroying the perfect little town of Fort Everwick with violent storms and not-so-natural disasters - and stop them from harming everyone they care about.
The Forces are set on destroying everything Savannah knows and loves, but they also have another plan - they want a new member to join them. They aren't willing to give up until they get the one they want...and they have Savannah firmly in their sights.
Savannah had never been confident in herself before, but with her new-found powers, she discovers just how strong herself and her friends really are. But what Savannah didn't count on was falling in love with Hunter. She's never loved anyone the way she loves Hunter and she knows he loves her too. But how can they be together forever if he no longer exists and she's the only one who can see him?
Will Savannah have enough belief in herself to defeat The Forces, or will they be able to lure her to the dark side and turn her against her loved ones...and tear her and Hunter apart?
Today we get to share an excerpt from Faded:
Savannah made her way across the dark hallway to her own room to get her flashlight out of her drawer. As she felt her way to the drawer, she heard a rattling noise coming from the other side of her room. She looked across the dark room, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Her bedroom window suddenly flung open, sending a gust of wind through the room and scattering Savannah’s homework papers all across the floor.
“Great,” Savannah mumbled as she closed the window and picked the papers back up and put them on her bed. She went back over to her drawer to grab her flashlight and then headed downstairs to the kitchen.
As she got to the end of the stairs, Savannah could hear the front door banging open and shut and the kitchen window rattling. Savannah knew she had locked the door after her parents had left. She ran over to the door to shut it, but it swung shut and locked itself before she got there. Savannah could feel her heart beating fast as she looked over at the kitchen window to see it slide shut and lock itself as well. She shone her flashlight around the room. There was no one there. A sense of fear came over her as she realized who was causing it. The woman at the lake had seen her with Hunter. The Forces knew who she was.
Savannah ran over to the kitchen window to see if she could open it. It was stuck. All she could think about was how to get herself and Annabelle out of there before anything happened to them.
The lights came back on and started flickering on and off around the house. Savannah placed her flashlight on the bench and closed her eyes, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen. She could feel a presence and hear a high pitched squealing around her. Suddenly, it stopped.
Savannah opened her eyes. The lights had stopped flickering and the power was back on. She looked around the room. Everything was still and quiet. Too quiet, she thought. As Savannah reached out her hand to get her flashlight, the kitchen window flew open again, sending another gust of wind through the house.
Hunter appeared beside her and knocked her out of the way just as the light above Savannah’s head exploded and smashed onto the floor, sending glass scattering where Savannah had just been standing. The two of them landed on the floor with Hunter shielding Savannah from the glass.
“Savannah, what happened?” Annabelle yelled from upstairs after she heard the glass smash.
“Nothing, Annabelle. Everything’s OK!” Savannah yelled back. She lifted her head off the floor and tried to steady her breath as she looked up at Hunter. “You saved my life again.”
“I seem to be making a habit of doing that, don’t I?” Hunter smiled. He stood up and helped Savannah to her feet. “They know who you are now, Savannah.”
“I know,” said Savannah. “What did they want with me?” She looked around the room. “Where are they now?”
“They’ve gone,” Hunter explained. “They got what they wanted. They knew I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. This was just a test to see if I would show up and I did. I just confirmed to them what they suspected, Savannah – that you’re a Chosen One.”
“They know where I live, Hunter. My whole family is in danger, aren’t they?” Savannah asked him.
“Everybody around you will be a target, and it won’t be long before they figure out who the other Chosen Ones are either.” Hunter touched Savannah’s hand. “But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Savannah.”
“I have to see if Annabelle’s alright,” said Savannah. Hunter followed her upstairs to Annabelle’s room. When they got there, Annabelle was nowhere to be seen.
Savannah could feel a sense of fear coming back. “Annabelle?” she yelled out as her eyes searched Annabelle’s room.
Annabelle crawled out from under her bed. “It was dark and I was scared,” said Annabelle. “And I heard a noise.”
Savannah grabbed Annabelle and held her in a tight hug. “I thought you had…”
“You thought I had what?” asked Annabelle.
“Nothing,” said Savannah, hugging her tighter. “It’s OK now.”
“Savannah?” Annabelle looked up at her. “Where’s my water?”
“Um, it’s…” Savannah looked at Hunter. Hunter grinned and disappeared. He reappeared with a glass of water in his hand and placed it on the bedside table behind Annabelle.
Savannah reached over and grabbed the glass. “It’s here, Annabelle.” She looked over at Hunter again. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hunter winked at her and disappeared. Savannah smiled to herself. Their lives had come so close to being in danger that night, so why did she feel so happy? She looked down at Annabelle and stroked her hair. There was no way she was ever going to let anything happen to Annabelle. She cared about Annabelle more than anything.
Savannah thought about what Hunter had said. He won’t let anything happen to her. There were four Chosen Ones to protect, so why was he always there for Savannah more than the others? Savannah smiled to herself again. Hunter was probably just doing his job by protecting her, but maybe he cared about her too.
Whether she likes it or not, eighteen year old Celeste Garrett has come to terms with being the Chosen One. She knew having a “normal life” would be tricky, between intense training sessions and epic demonic battles, but she didn’t know at what cost it would come. That is, until a dear friend is harmed by the malicious forces hunting her.
Now, she’d like nothing more than to retreat into a hermit lifestyle to prevent anyone else from getting hurt. But startling revelations, amazing new abilities, and mortifying moments in front of insanely hot guys won’t allow time for that. Soon, Celeste finds herself surrounded by darkness and wondering who she can trust—if anyone.
Being on a "spoiler free" blog is equal parts wonderful and frustrating. And the reason for that is because on one hand, it's great knowing that my review might make someone decide to pick up a book, while on the other, I can't gush or fangirl, and that's annoying. Do not fret, readers, I'm not gonna spoil anything- Really, I- No... Okay... Review time.
"Embrace" is the second book in The Gryphon Series by Stacey Rourke. I was lucky enough to get this blog tour on my To-Do list, and when I read the summary, I was...well, my hopes weren't high. Most every book where someone is "The Chosen One" bores me to death because all they do is sit and whine to the point where I am rooting for the bad guys to kick their butt. Thankfully, as I was reading this, I was pleasantly surprised. This book is awesome!
Celeste isn't whiny at all, and I love it. In fact, she's a lot like me--awkward and loud and sarcastic and awesome. I could relate to almost everything she said, and I didn't find myself stopping and thinking, "And now she'll do this and he'll do that and duh-duh-duh ope, I know the ending." All the characters, in fact, are likable. I love Keni, and Gabe, and Alaina (oh, close to my name! :D), and Caleb (*drools all over the Kindle*), and Rowan (again- *drools all over the Kindle*), the "Glee Club" and- And- Well, okay, I really shouldn't give you the character list...
The story is full of twists and the dialog and the monolog is all hilarious. I found myself highlighting way more than I have in a while and making notes to add the quotes to Goodreads. If I added every funny note, it would be the whole book though. Ha.
I love this book. I will definitely be ordering it (and "The Conduit") in paperbacks for my shelf-- And that, readers, is the highest honor I can bestow a book. :) I definitely recommend it to anyone who likes a funny, fast-paced and dramatic book. Excellent!
My Rating:
And now we are happy to share an interview Stacey Rourke did with Celeste:
Stacey-Celeste, thanks so much for being with us today!
Celeste-Uh, I only exist in your head. You know that, right? So it’s kind of a “where you go, I go” situation.
Stacey-(talking behind her hand) I get that, okay. But would you just please play along?
Celeste-Whatever, Boss Lady. Thanks for having me and congrats on your public display of schizophrenia.
Stacey-You’re mouthy. You know that?
Celeste-I am what you made me.
(Stacey scowls, Celeste gives her a big grin.)
Stacey-Let’s move on, shall we?
Celeste-Sure, this is fun!
Stacey-So, in book one of The Gryphon Series, The Conduit, you found out that because of a pact your ancestors made you’re the fabled Chosen One. How has your life changed since then?
Celeste-Well…I was going to go to college and be an art teacher. Now I have an army of demons chasing me and trying to kill me on a pretty much daily basis. So…uh…things have been better. Wait a sec, that was all YOUR doing! YOU made me the Chosen One! Why you…
Stacey-Next question?
(Celeste huffs.)
Stacey-Are you going to pout for the rest of the interview? I’ve done nice things for you, too! What about Caleb, we meet him in book 2, Embrace. He’s all kinds of fun eye candy! I made him just for you!
Celeste-He is pretty amazing. You cooked him up in your head?
Stacey-Yep! The face and hair of Ian Somerhalder, abs of Joe Manganiello, body of Alex Pettyfer and Irish accent of Gerard Butler. Nice, huh?
Celeste-Very! And I thank you for letting me play with your Frankenstien-esque creation, however I think you may be watching too much TV.
Stacey-Well this isn’t about me, is it?
Celeste-Easy, don’t get huffy. I have a question for you. (leaning in) So in book three do Caleb and I…(wiggles eyebrows suggestively)
Stacey-Celeste! First of all, if you aren’t mature enough to say what the act is you’re not ready to do it! Secondly, your Grams could be reading this!
Celeste- I know she is. Who do you think told me to do the eyebrow thing?
Stacey-Oh for crying out loud. Moving on.
Celeste-That wasn’t a yes or no.
Stacey-I guess you’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else. So, we also met Rowan in book 2, the golden haired bad boy pirate. Let’s talk a little bit about him.
Celeste-Oh, you mean the hot demon that can control my mind with a simple touch and makes me lose complete control of my inhibitions? Yeah, he’s a hoot. Thanks a bunch for that. That’ll make fidelity with Caleb super easy.
Stacey-Oh don’t worry, you won’t have to juggle both of them for very long.
Celeste-What?! Why? Is someone going somewhere?!
Stacey-Well that’s about all the time we have for today…
Celeste-No it’s not! I live in your head and will not let you sleep until you answer me!
Stacey-To our readers, please pick up The Conduit and Embrace by me, Stacey Rourke, and look for Sacrifice coming this fall wherever fine books are sold.
Celeste-Writers block will look like nothing compared to the sit in I’m staging until you answer me! Not one creative thought will leak out! Don’t act like you can’t hear me!
Stacey-Also catch a special Gryphon Series short in the Paranormal Days Gone Awry Anthology releasing this Halloween by Anchor Group Publishing.
Celeste-Ever gotten your butt kicked by a figment of your imagination? ‘Cause your itching for it, Rourke.
Stacey-Thank you to our guest, Celeste, for her time and thank you all for joining us. Happy reading!
Writing is something I have always done. I can remember in elementary school creating stories that I would stand up and read aloud to my classmates…whether they liked it or not. As I grew older I didn’t flaunt my writing as freely. It became something I did just for me to vent my teenage angst, or chronicle my journey to adulthood. I never thought about becoming a writer because that title prompted the visual of a grey-haired man in a tweed smoking jacket with suede elbow patches, slaving over an old fashion typewriter while puffing away on a pipe. No way was that stuffy kind of life for me. (Plus tweed is itchy.) Instead I wanted to be in the spotlight! I wanted to be–pause for dramatic effect–an actress! I gave it my best shot, too. Got about as far as any aspiring actress can get in Flint, Michigan. Which is exactly no where. But I did get two great things out of my time delving into the theatrical world; I gained the ability to act out the scenes I write to make sure they’re believable (yes, I really do that and no, you can’t watch) and I met my amazing husband.
My theater ambitions behind me, I decided to do the “mature,” “grown up” thing and went back to college. As I worked toward my Bachelor’s degree in marketing I did a lot of writing. Essays, research papers, PowerPoint presentations. All of it mandatory, none of it what I would ever call fun. Even then, becoming a writer never entered my mind. No, then I was going to be a business tycoon…or somethin’. Truth be told, I never picked writing. It picked me. During my time as a stay at home mom I needed an outlet to give me a mental break from diapers, formula and midnight feedings. That’s when my hands found their way back to the keyboard. Story ideas began coming at such an incessant rate that my rapidly clicking fingers couldn’t keep up. Post-It notes and scrapes of paper with story ideas decorated every inch of our house. In mid-conversation with my husband I would dart off to jot down things that would come to me. Sweet guy my hubby is, he would just shake his head at my obvious rudeness and hold my place in the conversation.
My first book was completed for an entire year before I told anyone about it. I outed myself as an author and then sent out my first round of query letters to literary agents. Surely, it would be picked up immediately and become an overnight success! Yeah, not so much. For two years I got rejection, after rejection, after rejection, after rejection…you get the idea. Thankfully with the ever increasing pile of rejections came feedback. I digested all the suggestions and applied the usable ones to my manuscript. Little by little, the rough edges were chipped away and the diamond shone through. The work paid off when I received an email from a publisher offering me a contract on The Conduit.
It’s been a long road, and it ain’t over yet. But now, at thirty-mumble, mumble years old I finally know what I wanna be when I grow up–-a writer.
The sacrifices we make have the power to shift the very fabric of who we are, and ultimately who we are meant to be…
After learning of her true destiny as the intended Leader of the Tydes, Anastasia Whitman must now embark on a perilous quest to the Underworld before the age of eighteen in order to plant the seed of immortality and complete her essence to become a true Sea Goddess. But before she can make her legendary journey, an unexpected new student transfers to Lorelei; initiating a sequence of events that will unravel Stasia’s new life, and test the boundaries of her relationship with the mysterious, dark, and sexy Finn Morrison. The line between the Underworld and the Living begins to blur as gruesome ghosts, morbid reveries, and pure evil haunt her waking hours as well as her sanity. Once the details of Finn’s own startling destiny are revealed, the dangerous secrets he’s been hiding will threaten the very love Stasia believed to be indestructible. As time begins to run out, she will be forced to choose between the one she loves and the destiny she cannot escape.
Awaken is the second installment in Kristen Day's fabulous Daughters of the Sea series. As some of you may remember, Lana and I both absolutely LOVED Book 1 in the series, Forsaken. So when we found out that Young Adult Novel Reader was putting together a tour for the sequel, Lana and I jumped at the chance to be a part of it. I know I have been eagerly awaiting this sequel since the moment I finished book one.
Awaken picks up shortly after Forsaken ends and I was pulled right back in from the opening lines. Day knows how to keep us hooked and I read this book in less than a day. I couldn't put it down. I found myself completely wrapped up in Stasia's story once again and the end came entirely too soon for my liking. Of course, along the way, my husband thought I'd lost my mind since I was randomly laughing out loud, gasping, and crying; sometimes all at once. I was an emotional wreck by the time I finished it.
Awaken is packed with suspense, romance and a few twists I definitely didn't see coming. I cannot find the words to tell you exactly how much I loved this book. It exceeded my every expectation. Day has created a fantastically quirky cast of characters for us to fall in love with and in doing so she has made it impossible for me to stop reading these books. I cannot wait to see how things wrap up in Chosen, due out in January 2013.
My Rating:
Kristen Day is a southern belle at heart with a crazy streak that desperately tries to escape at every opportunity. She loves all things nostalgic, rustic, and quirky. She’s been told she sees the world through rose-colored glasses, but she prefers to think of them as kaleidoscope glasses - swirling and morphing reality into something she can digest (who hasn't pretended those pasty lima beans were really kiwi strawberry jelly beans?).
She is the author of the DAUGHTERS OF THE SEA trilogy, which includes FORSAKEN, AWAKEN (Oct 2012), and CHOSEN (Winter 2012). She loves all books, but really enjoys writing young adult, paranormal romances. She’s loved to write for as long as she can remember. Her first published work was her poem RED in second grade (you guessed it - it was a poem about the color red - life altering, right?) that won her 5 gold stars and a spot in her elementary school's poetry book. That's when her addiction to the written word officially began. She was the only kid in fifth grade that actually enjoyed diagramming sentences. Go ahead and laugh - its okay.
Born in shame. Cast from society. Shape Shifter/Elf hybrid, Forest must fight for any respect she can get. Targeted in her youth by a vampire noble who placed an illegal slave mark on her, she is forced to obey him, no matter what.
Slipping the grip of her master and abandoning the prejudice of Regia, her native world, Forest takes a job on Earth, guarding the portal, using her skills as a warrior to enforce Regia's laws. Now, called home for a black ops mission, Forest must put aside her own prejudice to transport the vampire prince, Syrus, through enemy territory in a time of war.
Prince Syrus, mage and master of the Blood Kata, wants Forest more than he's ever wanted anything. In spite of their mutual mistrust, their attraction cannot be denied. Through the danger of their mission, and the secrets they both keep, it doesn't matter what they feel. Forest is forbidden.
And now an excerpt from Forbidden Forest:
Forest pressed her back against the cool concrete wall, wanting to remain aloof from the entity of the crowd. She chose her position in the shadows, out of the paths of the roving, multi-colored spotlights. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the undulating human pheromones flying around on the air. At the beginning of every shift, she allowed herself a few minutes of this alien/human experience, though she didn't fully comprehend the combination of dancing, drinking, and ear-breaking sound waves. They loved it, however, and never seemed to deviate from the recipe.
These were the people she was sworn to protect. She had developed a light affection for the human race and considered them a benign, if not slightly silly, bunch of creatures. Her religious passion for her job was rooted in hatred of that which harmed the humans, not a superhero tendency to protect the weak.
Forest opened her eyes and focused all her senses to sniff out the illegal suckers that tried to sneak through the portal. She was in the zone tonight, and not for the first time did she feel that hers was the best job in existence. It was a shame she couldn’t legally kill suckers in her native world.
Over the next two hours, Forest didn’t move from the wall. She monitored the light traffic through the portal: two shifters and one elf, each of which nodded to her respectfully as they passed. Yawn. The shifters left the club to enjoy the delights of Austin’s nightlife elsewhere.
The elf would have been breaking Regia’s law had he left the club, but he dutifully seated himself at the bar and ordered a fuzzy navel. He wore a plaid, porkpie hat, pulled down over the tops of his pointed ears. Forest didn’t know him personally, but she had seen him in here before. The bartender surveyed him with narrowed eyes as the elf nervously tugged his hat down further and ordered a few more girly cocktails.
Intent on making sure that not one sucker was able to sneak past her, Forest was blindsided by the drunk bubba who had been trying to catch her eye for the last twenty minutes. He had finally decided to stagger over to hit on her.
“Hey babe, you’re too beautiful to look so lonely. How’s ‘bout I buy you a drink?”
“How’s ‘bout I call you a cab instead?” Forest mimicked his drawl.
“Only if you share it with me, Darlin.” He leaned in closer, and Forest’s throat began to sting from the noxious fume of booze mixed with his natural musk.
“While I appreciate the offer, Jethro, It seems only right to inform you that I’m not actually attractive at all. If you leaned in a little closer, you’d see that you’ve fallen victim to the effect of beer goggles. A hag like me can’t take advantage of a stud like you.”
As he leaned in, Forest instantly enlarged her nose, pockmarked her skin, evaporated her front teeth, and added a large black mole with a long hair sprouting from it for good measure.
“You’re no hag, baby! You’re the sexiest little thing in…I…uh… ” He stumbled backward. “Good grief! Sorry, sorry…” he stammered, retreating. “I’ve gotta quit drinking,” he mumbled as he turned away.
Forest chuckled to herself once he absorbed back into the crowd. Being a shape shifter sometimes had unusual perks.
Hello. My name's Tenaya and I'm an addict. I mean author. When I was growing up, writing was just something I played at from time to time. I knew I wanted to be a writer, but I was one of those people who could never finish anything. When my eldest son was diagnosed with Autism, I began to write seriously. Writing became a necessity for me in the midst of my heartbreak. It was either that or take up drinking. I 'm thankful I chose writing as my escape because I discovered it truly is my thing. I want to be swept away when I read. That's what I want my books to do for you.The main goal of my writing is to entertain you. I want to help you escape everyday life for a little while. I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoy sharing them with you!
I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful sons. I'm an advocate for Autism awareness, and women trapped in abusive relationships. I try to always look on the bright side and help others do so too. I've lived many places but I currently reside in Missouri. I love reading, indie and foreign films, gardening, and moody music.
For one-thousand years, Druid prophecies foretold of a young witch destined to alter the fate of both human and immortal alike. This witch-turned-vampire would be capable of harnessing the supernatural abilities of both and, in a bloody rise to power, would rule with unwavering control. Unwillingly thrust into a world she never dreamed existed, Liz Markum is catapulted into an ancient war between rival vampire factions. She must choose between those she loves and the ever-present darkness attempting to devour her very soul. Only one question remains: Will Liz claim her birthright or surrender to the dark gift? One choice. One chance. Two destinies.
And now a teaser from Birthright:
Another growl rumbled through her chest as she took a step forward and to the side.
The man’s hands went up in front of him. “Now just calm down.” Still eyeing the door, he made a running break for it.
She slammed it shut before he could make it out. Cat-like, she pounced. She saw nothing other than the red haze covering her vision. Hot, slightly bitter fluid poured down her gullet, squelching the burn. Dizzy with the nearly orgasmic feel of it, her jaw tightened and she felt her teeth sink deeper into his flesh. His shrieks could not block out the slurping-sucking sounds as she drank. Inwardly screaming at herself to stop, she had no control. Nothing would stop the darkness from draining every last drop of the delicious nectar.
Within seconds, his cries of terror changed to barely audible pleas for mercy. “Don’t. You don’t have to. Please.”
The door behind them splintered from the hinges and slammed into them. Flying backward, Liz lost her hold on the man and scrambled to her feet. The raven haired man from the night before stood between her and the prey. “Get out of my way,” she hissed.
Willow Cross resides in Arkansas with her husband, two children still young enough to live at home, an enormous cat named Bitsy, and a neurotic dog named Tank. Her home has been known to host the occasional ghost and several of her friends profess to be witches. Although she dearly loves Vampires and Werewolves, they are never invited for dinner.
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