Merrie Destefano's Blog, page 3
September 5, 2012
Sometimes I forget to mention something cool
Sometimes I forget to mention things—some very cool things. Like the fact that I have a young adult short story for sale on Amazon. I think this is the plight of the writer. We work so hard to write and produce a story that we often forget to even mention it. Argh!
Anyway, my apologies.
Here's my new baby...
SYNOPSIS:
A teenage runaway’s post-apocalyptic world comes tumbling down when she discovers a survivor in a field of dead bodies.
Condemned as a runaway and sentenced to work as a Cleaner, fifteen-year-old Anna now spends her days searching for valuables in a field of dead warriors. Her life goes from bad to worse, however, when she stumbles upon a plague carrier, a boy her age who could kill her entire camp with a single drop from the flask he carries around his neck.
Approximately 26 pages long, THE PLAGUE CARRIER is the first story in my new series set in a post-apocalyptic United States, where survivors are still recovering from a Civil War. East of the Mississippi, peace reigns and the people are free. But west of the Mississippi is a different story. There, the countryside is ravaged by erratic thunderstorms and tornadoes, and the inhabitants continue to battle one another using advanced forms of chemical warfare. There, anyone who breaks the law is sold into slavery, where he must serve in a labor camp until his sentence is fulfilled.
The short story is .99 on Amazon and a LINK TO THE BOOK IS HERE.
Reviews from Amazon Readers
"In typically flawless Merrie Destefano style, The Plague Carrier is at once evocative, engaging and terrifying."—Auburn McCanta, 5 stars
"While it was a short 27 pages, it was great! I could not put it down! It will leave you wanting more. I cannot wait to read more about Anna and William."—Allison D. Sautkus, 5 stars
And, here's the first chapter:
ONE
THE SUN WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT, shining and bright, on the day I ran away. It was going to help me run faster and longer, was going to light my way through our ruined city, all the way to the river and the train yard on the other side. My wet clothes were going to be dry by the time I climbed inside one of the cars bound for Indiana and I was going to sleep all night long, hidden in a pile of rags, behind large crates of fruit.
I don’t like to blame everything that’s happened on the weather, but if it hadn’t started raining, then I wouldn’t have gotten caught in that thick patch of river mud—
And I might have gotten away.
“Hurry up, Runner! Don’t stand there holding onto yer plate all day long. Field’s awaiting.”
Laughter barks around me as I finish my breakfast. It’s been a long time since anyone has called me by my given name—but I hear it whispered soon enough. Two men with sallow skin and long braided hair sneer as they pass me on their way to the field. One of them breathes, “Anna,” in my ear as his left hand lingers on my thigh. I shove him away. Behind me, the morning skies fill with a multitude of dark clouds, casting more shadow than light down on our camp. A hundred gray tents line the riverbank—the same river where the Chasers caught me, just last week—and all of the tent flaps are tied down in case the wind picks up again.
I pause, plate in hand as I glance up at the sky, wondering what it’s going to give us today. Ever since the Last War, everyone west of the Mississippi’s been tormented by lightning storms, demon winds and earthquakes. Sunshine comes like a fiery flash, straight out of nowhere and it always passes before you can enjoy it.
Never can count on a sunny day anymore.
Thanks to those Chasers and that blasted sun, today I’m heading into a war field, where I’m almost instantly surrounded by dead bodies, knee-deep in blood and gore, shovel in one hand, bucket in the other. A thick canvas apron covers me from neck to ankle and a plastic visor shields my face. Flies buzz from one carcass to the next while the other Cleaners are already grumbling that I’m taking too long, hunting for valuables.
“Get a move on there, dearie!”
“Just look for somethin’ shiny and hurry up—”
“Never shoulda taken that Runner, she doesn’t have a stomach for blood—”
I ignore them as I flip a body on its back, then run a gaze over it, looking for anything worth a coin or two.
Right about then, the sun creeps out like the sneaky devil it is, scaring away all the clouds, charming steam to rise up from the heath and turning the field to haze. I’ve learned that sometimes a sudden change in temperature can cause the dead bodies to shift and moan, and more than one Cleaner has let out a startled cry when that happens.
Not me.
I refuse to cry out. No matter how terrified I am.
Instead, I pretend I don’t hear the other Cleaners as they whisper spells of protection, all of us still working despite the puffs of steam that billow about. Hot sun on my back, sweat dripping down my face, the stench of my plastic visor blocking out the stench of death, I lean forward and rifle through another dead man’s pockets, his yellow eyes gazing to heaven, his open mouth spilling a gruel of spit and blood.
My fingers latch onto his.
I brush away the mud from his rough knuckles until my thumb rolls across something slippery—a ring, most likely. I tug it off, lift it into a patch of sunlight, and then smile when I see a gleam of gold mixed with ruby. With a soft clink, the ring is dropped into my bucket, where it rolls to a halt atop a shallow pile of silver bullets, ornate daggers and a handful of gold teeth. You have to be careful when it comes to sticking your fingers inside the mouths of these dead creatures—their jaws can snap shut if you’re not paying close attention. You can lose a finger or worse, you might catch their war plague.
Still, I’m not afraid to do the dirty work. That’s one of the reasons this band of Cleaners took me on.
That’s when I get a flash of brilliance and I suddenly realize this fellow must have been rich. So, I hunker down, rest my shovel on a nearby body and set the bucket on the ground.
In a heartbeat, I’m cutting open this dead guy’s tunic to discover three gold necklaces draped around his throat. Just as I’m slicing the seams in his jacket and pulling out an ivory tribal purse, I hear a faint groan to my right.
I stand up, blade ready.
There are two kinds of groans in a field like this: the ethereal groans of the dead and the kill-it-before-it-kills-you groans of the near-dead.
I’ve always preferred the groans of the dead. Unfortunately that’s not what I hear today. I run a hasty scan across the field, searching for movement. Puffs of steam rising, sun dancing behind a bank of clouds, a sea of arms and legs and shaved skulls surrounding me, I suddenly realize that all the other Cleaners have moved away.
They’re heading toward the river to wash up for our midday meal. I’ve been left standing alone in a field of dead mountain warriors.
And right now, one of these plague carriers is moaning back to life, twisting in the mud, trying to push its way free.
One hand on my knife, I yank a silver chain from beneath my apron, pull a dangling whistle to my lips. I’m ready to call the others back. That’s when I spot the creature, not ten feet away. The whistle stills, my mouth turns dry and a demon wind¬¬—the worst kind, since it heralds both death and danger to those who hear it—circles about me, turning my flesh to ice.
The whistle slides to my chest and I stand quiet, staring.
It’s just a boy, not much older than me, probably fifteen or sixteen. And he’s wearing a Runner brand on his left cheek—a big black X that says he’s left his home and his tribe, that he tried to make it on his own but failed. All the Western tribes use the same symbol. It’s how we keep track of our traitors and deserters.
“Boy,” I call a hoarse whisper in his direction, my blade still lifted and ready to use if necessary.
Instinctively, he glances up at me.
His eyes are clear. No sign of the yellow plague. But then why is he wearing the tunic and leggings of the mountain people? It’s a puzzle that confuses me. Their warriors always carry the plague. It’s the highlanders’ way of making sure they destroy their enemies.
So why is this boy free of the disease?
“Keep down,” I say, a tiny bit louder. “Wrap your scarf about your neck.”
It’s no guarantee that a tiny bit of fabric will protect him, but that’s all I can think of. He hasn’t been sprayed for nearly an hour with biochems, like I have. He may not make it out of this field alive, no matter what he does.
He crouches low, brown hair scuffing in that demon wind, cheeks turning pink from the sudden cold. One slow movement at a time, he crawls over the tangle of bodies, away from the Cleaner camp, toward the forest that stands at my back.
“Hurry!” I say, lifting my plastic visor to see him better. He’s moving faster than I expect and I now see sun-browned skin peeking out from rips in his tunic and thick black eyebrows bunched together in a frown. He pauses when he’s close enough to see me clearly, a shock of recognition in his eyes when he notices my cheek and the mark I bear like his.
I touch the brand with my fingers, wondering if the raw skin has darkened yet or if it’s still as red as the day the Chasers caught me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Children shouldn’t be roaming through a killing field.”
It’s the first time he’s spoken and his voice startles me. He sounds more like a man than a boy.
I take a step backward, my foot thumping against a pile of bodies, my right hand remembering the knife and lifting it higher.
“I should be asking you the same thing.” I glance back toward my camp, wondering if anyone has seen him yet. “What’s a boy doing in a camp of dead men?”
Still on his hands and knees, he shrugs. “Runners go where they’re told.” He’s watching me like I’ve got a tell, like there’s some mystery inside me that he’ll be able to figure out if he stares long enough. He pulls himself to a shaky stand, never taking his eyes off mine. “Am I right?”
“You are,” I answer. “But right now, you better do as I say, if you want to live. Head toward that wood and be quick about it!” I point at the forest, still heavy with shadows even though the sun is nigh. “We’ll be burning this field in a few hours.”
His eyes—his beautiful gray eyes—flash with some dark emotion. He runs a fast gaze over me, head to foot, that makes a strange spark flutter in my gut.
“I can’t go.” He’s made a decision, I can see it in the resolute set of his jaw. “I can’t leave,” he says again. “My father is here somewhere—”
“Your father?”
He nods.
“Why would a Runner be in the same killing field as his own father? Haven’t your parents disowned you?”
“Of course, they have—I wouldn’t be wearing this brand otherwise. But my real father never even knew I was born. He’s here somewhere and I have to find him.”
“Boy, your real father’s dead if he was in this field. You know the mountain folk send their warriors out, never expecting them to return.”
“But I can’t leave him here to roast in a heathen fire. I have to take his body home and give him a proper burial. He’s a warrior and he deserves to rest in a grave with wreaths of flowers and choruses of song.” There’s a pleading in his gaze that’s softening my heart more than I like.
“You’re crazy! Your people will never let you back inside their city gates—”
He tugs a long cord from beneath his tunic, revealing a small flask. “They will let me in.”
I see the flask he holds and I freeze, unable to speak or move. I can’t even breathe.
“I’m the Plague Carrier—”
As soon as those words leave his mouth, I swing my visor down, then I turn and leap over the bodies behind me. In two bold jumps, I put a barrier of dead flesh between us, then I pause to brace my left arm over my chin, protecting that narrow gap between my neck and the visor.
“Stay back! Or I’ll call the others!” I yell in a muffled voice.
Already I’ve pulled out my whistle and I’m getting ready to blow it. Just last week I was running through hail and wind, along a riverbank choked with mud. I thought I was going to make it to the Eastern border. I thought I was going to be free.
Now, I’ve got a Plague Carrier, not five feet away from me and moving closer.
This monster could kill the entire camp with the virus he’s carrying in that flask around his neck. I try not to let him know how frightened I am. Meanwhile, all I can think is, from bad to worse, that’s the way my luck’s been going lately.
Anyway, my apologies.
Here's my new baby...
SYNOPSIS:
A teenage runaway’s post-apocalyptic world comes tumbling down when she discovers a survivor in a field of dead bodies.
Condemned as a runaway and sentenced to work as a Cleaner, fifteen-year-old Anna now spends her days searching for valuables in a field of dead warriors. Her life goes from bad to worse, however, when she stumbles upon a plague carrier, a boy her age who could kill her entire camp with a single drop from the flask he carries around his neck.
Approximately 26 pages long, THE PLAGUE CARRIER is the first story in my new series set in a post-apocalyptic United States, where survivors are still recovering from a Civil War. East of the Mississippi, peace reigns and the people are free. But west of the Mississippi is a different story. There, the countryside is ravaged by erratic thunderstorms and tornadoes, and the inhabitants continue to battle one another using advanced forms of chemical warfare. There, anyone who breaks the law is sold into slavery, where he must serve in a labor camp until his sentence is fulfilled.
The short story is .99 on Amazon and a LINK TO THE BOOK IS HERE.
Reviews from Amazon Readers
"In typically flawless Merrie Destefano style, The Plague Carrier is at once evocative, engaging and terrifying."—Auburn McCanta, 5 stars
"While it was a short 27 pages, it was great! I could not put it down! It will leave you wanting more. I cannot wait to read more about Anna and William."—Allison D. Sautkus, 5 stars
And, here's the first chapter:
ONE
THE SUN WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUT, shining and bright, on the day I ran away. It was going to help me run faster and longer, was going to light my way through our ruined city, all the way to the river and the train yard on the other side. My wet clothes were going to be dry by the time I climbed inside one of the cars bound for Indiana and I was going to sleep all night long, hidden in a pile of rags, behind large crates of fruit.
I don’t like to blame everything that’s happened on the weather, but if it hadn’t started raining, then I wouldn’t have gotten caught in that thick patch of river mud—
And I might have gotten away.
“Hurry up, Runner! Don’t stand there holding onto yer plate all day long. Field’s awaiting.”
Laughter barks around me as I finish my breakfast. It’s been a long time since anyone has called me by my given name—but I hear it whispered soon enough. Two men with sallow skin and long braided hair sneer as they pass me on their way to the field. One of them breathes, “Anna,” in my ear as his left hand lingers on my thigh. I shove him away. Behind me, the morning skies fill with a multitude of dark clouds, casting more shadow than light down on our camp. A hundred gray tents line the riverbank—the same river where the Chasers caught me, just last week—and all of the tent flaps are tied down in case the wind picks up again.
I pause, plate in hand as I glance up at the sky, wondering what it’s going to give us today. Ever since the Last War, everyone west of the Mississippi’s been tormented by lightning storms, demon winds and earthquakes. Sunshine comes like a fiery flash, straight out of nowhere and it always passes before you can enjoy it.
Never can count on a sunny day anymore.
Thanks to those Chasers and that blasted sun, today I’m heading into a war field, where I’m almost instantly surrounded by dead bodies, knee-deep in blood and gore, shovel in one hand, bucket in the other. A thick canvas apron covers me from neck to ankle and a plastic visor shields my face. Flies buzz from one carcass to the next while the other Cleaners are already grumbling that I’m taking too long, hunting for valuables.
“Get a move on there, dearie!”
“Just look for somethin’ shiny and hurry up—”
“Never shoulda taken that Runner, she doesn’t have a stomach for blood—”
I ignore them as I flip a body on its back, then run a gaze over it, looking for anything worth a coin or two.
Right about then, the sun creeps out like the sneaky devil it is, scaring away all the clouds, charming steam to rise up from the heath and turning the field to haze. I’ve learned that sometimes a sudden change in temperature can cause the dead bodies to shift and moan, and more than one Cleaner has let out a startled cry when that happens.
Not me.
I refuse to cry out. No matter how terrified I am.
Instead, I pretend I don’t hear the other Cleaners as they whisper spells of protection, all of us still working despite the puffs of steam that billow about. Hot sun on my back, sweat dripping down my face, the stench of my plastic visor blocking out the stench of death, I lean forward and rifle through another dead man’s pockets, his yellow eyes gazing to heaven, his open mouth spilling a gruel of spit and blood.
My fingers latch onto his.
I brush away the mud from his rough knuckles until my thumb rolls across something slippery—a ring, most likely. I tug it off, lift it into a patch of sunlight, and then smile when I see a gleam of gold mixed with ruby. With a soft clink, the ring is dropped into my bucket, where it rolls to a halt atop a shallow pile of silver bullets, ornate daggers and a handful of gold teeth. You have to be careful when it comes to sticking your fingers inside the mouths of these dead creatures—their jaws can snap shut if you’re not paying close attention. You can lose a finger or worse, you might catch their war plague.
Still, I’m not afraid to do the dirty work. That’s one of the reasons this band of Cleaners took me on.
That’s when I get a flash of brilliance and I suddenly realize this fellow must have been rich. So, I hunker down, rest my shovel on a nearby body and set the bucket on the ground.
In a heartbeat, I’m cutting open this dead guy’s tunic to discover three gold necklaces draped around his throat. Just as I’m slicing the seams in his jacket and pulling out an ivory tribal purse, I hear a faint groan to my right.
I stand up, blade ready.
There are two kinds of groans in a field like this: the ethereal groans of the dead and the kill-it-before-it-kills-you groans of the near-dead.
I’ve always preferred the groans of the dead. Unfortunately that’s not what I hear today. I run a hasty scan across the field, searching for movement. Puffs of steam rising, sun dancing behind a bank of clouds, a sea of arms and legs and shaved skulls surrounding me, I suddenly realize that all the other Cleaners have moved away.
They’re heading toward the river to wash up for our midday meal. I’ve been left standing alone in a field of dead mountain warriors.
And right now, one of these plague carriers is moaning back to life, twisting in the mud, trying to push its way free.
One hand on my knife, I yank a silver chain from beneath my apron, pull a dangling whistle to my lips. I’m ready to call the others back. That’s when I spot the creature, not ten feet away. The whistle stills, my mouth turns dry and a demon wind¬¬—the worst kind, since it heralds both death and danger to those who hear it—circles about me, turning my flesh to ice.
The whistle slides to my chest and I stand quiet, staring.
It’s just a boy, not much older than me, probably fifteen or sixteen. And he’s wearing a Runner brand on his left cheek—a big black X that says he’s left his home and his tribe, that he tried to make it on his own but failed. All the Western tribes use the same symbol. It’s how we keep track of our traitors and deserters.
“Boy,” I call a hoarse whisper in his direction, my blade still lifted and ready to use if necessary.
Instinctively, he glances up at me.
His eyes are clear. No sign of the yellow plague. But then why is he wearing the tunic and leggings of the mountain people? It’s a puzzle that confuses me. Their warriors always carry the plague. It’s the highlanders’ way of making sure they destroy their enemies.
So why is this boy free of the disease?
“Keep down,” I say, a tiny bit louder. “Wrap your scarf about your neck.”
It’s no guarantee that a tiny bit of fabric will protect him, but that’s all I can think of. He hasn’t been sprayed for nearly an hour with biochems, like I have. He may not make it out of this field alive, no matter what he does.
He crouches low, brown hair scuffing in that demon wind, cheeks turning pink from the sudden cold. One slow movement at a time, he crawls over the tangle of bodies, away from the Cleaner camp, toward the forest that stands at my back.
“Hurry!” I say, lifting my plastic visor to see him better. He’s moving faster than I expect and I now see sun-browned skin peeking out from rips in his tunic and thick black eyebrows bunched together in a frown. He pauses when he’s close enough to see me clearly, a shock of recognition in his eyes when he notices my cheek and the mark I bear like his.
I touch the brand with my fingers, wondering if the raw skin has darkened yet or if it’s still as red as the day the Chasers caught me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Children shouldn’t be roaming through a killing field.”
It’s the first time he’s spoken and his voice startles me. He sounds more like a man than a boy.
I take a step backward, my foot thumping against a pile of bodies, my right hand remembering the knife and lifting it higher.
“I should be asking you the same thing.” I glance back toward my camp, wondering if anyone has seen him yet. “What’s a boy doing in a camp of dead men?”
Still on his hands and knees, he shrugs. “Runners go where they’re told.” He’s watching me like I’ve got a tell, like there’s some mystery inside me that he’ll be able to figure out if he stares long enough. He pulls himself to a shaky stand, never taking his eyes off mine. “Am I right?”
“You are,” I answer. “But right now, you better do as I say, if you want to live. Head toward that wood and be quick about it!” I point at the forest, still heavy with shadows even though the sun is nigh. “We’ll be burning this field in a few hours.”
His eyes—his beautiful gray eyes—flash with some dark emotion. He runs a fast gaze over me, head to foot, that makes a strange spark flutter in my gut.
“I can’t go.” He’s made a decision, I can see it in the resolute set of his jaw. “I can’t leave,” he says again. “My father is here somewhere—”
“Your father?”
He nods.
“Why would a Runner be in the same killing field as his own father? Haven’t your parents disowned you?”
“Of course, they have—I wouldn’t be wearing this brand otherwise. But my real father never even knew I was born. He’s here somewhere and I have to find him.”
“Boy, your real father’s dead if he was in this field. You know the mountain folk send their warriors out, never expecting them to return.”
“But I can’t leave him here to roast in a heathen fire. I have to take his body home and give him a proper burial. He’s a warrior and he deserves to rest in a grave with wreaths of flowers and choruses of song.” There’s a pleading in his gaze that’s softening my heart more than I like.
“You’re crazy! Your people will never let you back inside their city gates—”
He tugs a long cord from beneath his tunic, revealing a small flask. “They will let me in.”
I see the flask he holds and I freeze, unable to speak or move. I can’t even breathe.
“I’m the Plague Carrier—”
As soon as those words leave his mouth, I swing my visor down, then I turn and leap over the bodies behind me. In two bold jumps, I put a barrier of dead flesh between us, then I pause to brace my left arm over my chin, protecting that narrow gap between my neck and the visor.
“Stay back! Or I’ll call the others!” I yell in a muffled voice.
Already I’ve pulled out my whistle and I’m getting ready to blow it. Just last week I was running through hail and wind, along a riverbank choked with mud. I thought I was going to make it to the Eastern border. I thought I was going to be free.
Now, I’ve got a Plague Carrier, not five feet away from me and moving closer.
This monster could kill the entire camp with the virus he’s carrying in that flask around his neck. I try not to let him know how frightened I am. Meanwhile, all I can think is, from bad to worse, that’s the way my luck’s been going lately.
September 4, 2012
Books I’ve been waiting for
There are three books I’ve been waiting for and two of them release day. Yay!!
So, Happy Release Day to:
Releasing on September 4.
BOOK ONE:
Ann Aguire's
Outpost
This is the sequel to her young adult novel, Enclave—which I love, love, love. One problem I have with many young adult books is the world-building. There seem to be so many plot holes in the construction in some of these novels and I can’t bring myself to read past ten or fifteen. Not so with Ann Aguire’s books! Her books are so well-researched and constructed that everything falls into place perfectly. It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book as original as Enclave, so I am eagerly awaiting Outpost!
Here’s the actual synopsis:
Deuce’s whole world has changed. Down below, she was considered an adult. Now, topside in a town called Salvation, she’s a brat in need of training in the eyes of the townsfolk. She doesn’t fit in with the other girls: Deuce only knows how to fight.
To make matters worse, her Hunter partner, Fade, keeps Deuce at a distance. Her feelings for Fade haven’t changed, but he seems not to want her around anymore. Confused and lonely, she starts looking for a way out.
Deuce signs up to serve in the summer patrols—those who make sure the planters can work the fields without danger. It should be routine, but things have been changing on the surface, just as they did below ground. The Freaks have grown smarter. They’re watching. Waiting. Planning. The monsters don’t intend to let Salvation survive, and it may take a girl like Deuce to turn back the tide.
Releasing on September 4.
BOOK TWO:
Gwenda Bond's
Blackwood
Here’s a brief synopsis:
On Roanoke Island, the legend of the 114 people who mysteriously vanished from the Lost Colony hundreds of years ago is just an outdoor drama for the tourists, a story people tell. But when the island faces the sudden disappearance of 114 people now, an unlikely pair of 17-year-olds may be the only hope of bringing them back.
Miranda, a misfit girl from the island's most infamous family, and Phillips, an exiled teen criminal who hears the voices of the dead, must dodge everyone from federal agents to long-dead alchemists as they work to uncover the secrets of the new Lost Colony. The one thing they can't dodge is each other.
Blackwood is a dark, witty coming of age story that combines America's oldest mystery with a thoroughly contemporary romance.
Releasing on September 18.
BOOK THREE:
Gretchen McNeil's
Ten
Here’s a brief synopsis of this amazing book:
Shhhh! Don't spread the word! Three-day weekend. House party. White Rock House on Henry Island. You do not want to miss it.
It was supposed to be the weekend of their lives—three days on Henry Island at an exclusive house party. Best friends Meg and Minnie each have their own reasons for wanting to be there, which involve their school's most eligible bachelor, T. J. Fletcher, and look forward to three glorious days of boys, bonding, and fun-filled luxury.
But what they expect is definitely not what they get, and what starts out as fun turns dark and twisted after the discovery of a DVD with a sinister message: Vengeance is mine.
Suddenly, people are dying, and with a storm raging outside, the teens are cut off from the rest of the world. No electricity, no phones, no internet, and a ferry that isn't scheduled to return for three days. As the deaths become more violent and the teens turn on each other, can Meg find the killer before more people die? Or is the killer closer to her than she could ever imagine?
.................
Wow. Don't those books sound incredible? If you're looking for something to read, I highly recommend you check out these three novels.
So, Happy Release Day to:
Releasing on September 4.
BOOK ONE:
Ann Aguire's
Outpost
This is the sequel to her young adult novel, Enclave—which I love, love, love. One problem I have with many young adult books is the world-building. There seem to be so many plot holes in the construction in some of these novels and I can’t bring myself to read past ten or fifteen. Not so with Ann Aguire’s books! Her books are so well-researched and constructed that everything falls into place perfectly. It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book as original as Enclave, so I am eagerly awaiting Outpost!
Here’s the actual synopsis:
Deuce’s whole world has changed. Down below, she was considered an adult. Now, topside in a town called Salvation, she’s a brat in need of training in the eyes of the townsfolk. She doesn’t fit in with the other girls: Deuce only knows how to fight.
To make matters worse, her Hunter partner, Fade, keeps Deuce at a distance. Her feelings for Fade haven’t changed, but he seems not to want her around anymore. Confused and lonely, she starts looking for a way out.
Deuce signs up to serve in the summer patrols—those who make sure the planters can work the fields without danger. It should be routine, but things have been changing on the surface, just as they did below ground. The Freaks have grown smarter. They’re watching. Waiting. Planning. The monsters don’t intend to let Salvation survive, and it may take a girl like Deuce to turn back the tide.
Releasing on September 4.
BOOK TWO:
Gwenda Bond's
Blackwood
Here’s a brief synopsis:
On Roanoke Island, the legend of the 114 people who mysteriously vanished from the Lost Colony hundreds of years ago is just an outdoor drama for the tourists, a story people tell. But when the island faces the sudden disappearance of 114 people now, an unlikely pair of 17-year-olds may be the only hope of bringing them back.
Miranda, a misfit girl from the island's most infamous family, and Phillips, an exiled teen criminal who hears the voices of the dead, must dodge everyone from federal agents to long-dead alchemists as they work to uncover the secrets of the new Lost Colony. The one thing they can't dodge is each other.
Blackwood is a dark, witty coming of age story that combines America's oldest mystery with a thoroughly contemporary romance.
Releasing on September 18.
BOOK THREE:
Gretchen McNeil's
Ten
Here’s a brief synopsis of this amazing book:
Shhhh! Don't spread the word! Three-day weekend. House party. White Rock House on Henry Island. You do not want to miss it.
It was supposed to be the weekend of their lives—three days on Henry Island at an exclusive house party. Best friends Meg and Minnie each have their own reasons for wanting to be there, which involve their school's most eligible bachelor, T. J. Fletcher, and look forward to three glorious days of boys, bonding, and fun-filled luxury.
But what they expect is definitely not what they get, and what starts out as fun turns dark and twisted after the discovery of a DVD with a sinister message: Vengeance is mine.
Suddenly, people are dying, and with a storm raging outside, the teens are cut off from the rest of the world. No electricity, no phones, no internet, and a ferry that isn't scheduled to return for three days. As the deaths become more violent and the teens turn on each other, can Meg find the killer before more people die? Or is the killer closer to her than she could ever imagine?
.................
Wow. Don't those books sound incredible? If you're looking for something to read, I highly recommend you check out these three novels.
September 3, 2012
Meet the characters from FATHOM
Every Monday for the next 4 weeks, I'll be introducing you to one of the characters from FATHOM. Plus, I'll have a giveaway.
First up, the main character of the book: Kira.
Played by an unknown breakout actress.
• Name: KIRA CALLAHAN
• Lives in a bungalow atop a cliff in Crescent Moon Bay
• Age: 16
• Sophomore at Crescent Moon High School
• Favorite class: English
• Best friend: Sean
• Second best friend: Brianna
• Hobbies: Swimming and writing down secrets in her journal
• Favorite bands: Kings of Leon, Paramour, Snow Patrol and The Killers
• Favorite drink: Coke
• Social standing: Never been kissed, never been asked to a party, never been popular
• Greatest joy: The ocean
• Biggest nightmare: That she will one day join her dead mother and sister by drowning in the Pacific
Here's a snippet of text from Kira's POV:
Gray skies gave way to blue, seagulls circled overhead, and almost everyone else in California was still asleep. But I was racing as if my life depended on it. The rest of the world faded away, from the seals that waited back on shore to the homework I hadn’t finished. Sand spun beneath my feet as I ran across the beach, waves curling and snapping as I approached. Hands over my head, I dove into the water.
He was just a step behind me, I could feel it.
And now, the giveway...
I'm giving away an ARC of Scarlet by Marissa Meyer. This is just the type of book Kira would read, since she loves fairy tales and legends.
Here's a synopsis of Scarlet:
Cinder, the cyborg mechanic, returns in the second thrilling installment of the bestselling Lunar Chronicles. She's trying to break out of prison--even though if she succeeds, she'll be the Commonwealth's most wanted fugitive.
Halfway around the world, Scarlet Benoit's grandmother is missing. It turns out there are many things Scarlet doesn't know about her grandmother or the grave danger she has lived in her whole life. When Scarlet encounters Wolf, a street fighter who may have information as to her grandmother's whereabouts, she is loath to trust this stranger, but is inexplicably drawn to him, and he to her. As Scarlet and Wolf unravel one mystery, they encounter another when they meet Cinder. Now, all of them must stay one step ahead of the vicious Lunar Queen Levana, who will do anything for the handsome Prince Kai to become her husband, her king, her prisoner.
THE RULES:
To be entered for the giveaway, you must:
1. Follow my blog
2. Post in the comment section below (be sure to include your email so I can contact the winner)
3. Share a link and comment about this giveaway, either on Twitter or Facebook or your blog. Be sure to let me know you did all three of these in your comment.
Contest ends Friday, September 7, and I'll announce the winner on Saturday.
Meanwhile, happy reading!
First up, the main character of the book: Kira.
Played by an unknown breakout actress.
• Name: KIRA CALLAHAN
• Lives in a bungalow atop a cliff in Crescent Moon Bay
• Age: 16
• Sophomore at Crescent Moon High School
• Favorite class: English
• Best friend: Sean
• Second best friend: Brianna
• Hobbies: Swimming and writing down secrets in her journal
• Favorite bands: Kings of Leon, Paramour, Snow Patrol and The Killers
• Favorite drink: Coke
• Social standing: Never been kissed, never been asked to a party, never been popular
• Greatest joy: The ocean
• Biggest nightmare: That she will one day join her dead mother and sister by drowning in the Pacific
Here's a snippet of text from Kira's POV:
Gray skies gave way to blue, seagulls circled overhead, and almost everyone else in California was still asleep. But I was racing as if my life depended on it. The rest of the world faded away, from the seals that waited back on shore to the homework I hadn’t finished. Sand spun beneath my feet as I ran across the beach, waves curling and snapping as I approached. Hands over my head, I dove into the water.
He was just a step behind me, I could feel it.
And now, the giveway...
I'm giving away an ARC of Scarlet by Marissa Meyer. This is just the type of book Kira would read, since she loves fairy tales and legends.
Here's a synopsis of Scarlet:
Cinder, the cyborg mechanic, returns in the second thrilling installment of the bestselling Lunar Chronicles. She's trying to break out of prison--even though if she succeeds, she'll be the Commonwealth's most wanted fugitive.
Halfway around the world, Scarlet Benoit's grandmother is missing. It turns out there are many things Scarlet doesn't know about her grandmother or the grave danger she has lived in her whole life. When Scarlet encounters Wolf, a street fighter who may have information as to her grandmother's whereabouts, she is loath to trust this stranger, but is inexplicably drawn to him, and he to her. As Scarlet and Wolf unravel one mystery, they encounter another when they meet Cinder. Now, all of them must stay one step ahead of the vicious Lunar Queen Levana, who will do anything for the handsome Prince Kai to become her husband, her king, her prisoner.
THE RULES:
To be entered for the giveaway, you must:
1. Follow my blog
2. Post in the comment section below (be sure to include your email so I can contact the winner)
3. Share a link and comment about this giveaway, either on Twitter or Facebook or your blog. Be sure to let me know you did all three of these in your comment.
Contest ends Friday, September 7, and I'll announce the winner on Saturday.
Meanwhile, happy reading!
September 2, 2012
Another taste of FATHOM
Here's another quick snippet from FATHOM. Plus, stay tuned. Next week I'll be doing some book giveaways.
August 31, 2012
Thank You to Bloggers reviewing FATHOM
I just wanted to thank all the bloggers and book reviewers who have already agreed to either read FATHOM for review and/or let me write a guest post during the month of October. This is a list of the amazing blogs who will be taking part in the release of my first YA novel, FATHOM.
Blogs on the Tour
1. Literary Escapism
2. My Book Chatter
3. Good Choice Reading
4. The Travels of Sullivan McPig
5. Book Faery
6. My Bookish Ways
7. Glitter in the Sun
8. Once Upon A Blog
9. Fiction Addict
10. Vampire Book Club
11. Black N Gold Girl's Bookspot
12. My World...in pages and words
13. Books and Things
14. Lady Techies Book Musings
15. Just Us Girls
16. I Smell Sheep
17. Little Hyuts
18. Books are Wonderful Magic
19. Oh, For The Love of Books
20. Books N Kisses
21. The YA Bookworm
22. Bitten by Books
23. Sara's Urban Fantasy Blog
24. Dark Faerie Tales
25. All Things Books
Thanks SO much! You all rock!!
However, there's still time to be part of the tour. If you'd like to join, please check out the tour details HERE or leave a comment below with your email address and a link to your blog URL.
Blogs on the Tour
1. Literary Escapism
2. My Book Chatter
3. Good Choice Reading
4. The Travels of Sullivan McPig
5. Book Faery
6. My Bookish Ways
7. Glitter in the Sun
8. Once Upon A Blog
9. Fiction Addict
10. Vampire Book Club
11. Black N Gold Girl's Bookspot
12. My World...in pages and words
13. Books and Things
14. Lady Techies Book Musings
15. Just Us Girls
16. I Smell Sheep
17. Little Hyuts
18. Books are Wonderful Magic
19. Oh, For The Love of Books
20. Books N Kisses
21. The YA Bookworm
22. Bitten by Books
23. Sara's Urban Fantasy Blog
24. Dark Faerie Tales
25. All Things Books
Thanks SO much! You all rock!!
However, there's still time to be part of the tour. If you'd like to join, please check out the tour details HERE or leave a comment below with your email address and a link to your blog URL.
August 30, 2012
And another quote from FATHOM
August 27, 2012
Just for fun: A quote from FATHOM
This is just something for fun—something that can be shared online. I plan to pin it on my Fathom Pinterest board and thought I'd share it here first. Enjoy! More to come in the weeks preceding Fathom's October 1 launch.
August 24, 2012
Cover and first chapter reveal for YA Novel, FATHOM
Sometimes it seems like the time between an author’s books can take soooo long. If you’ve ever wondered what we’re doing in those quiet times—when we don’t actually have a new book on the shelf—the answer is: We're writing another book.
I’ve actually written 2 books since my last novel, FEAST: Harvest of Dreams , was published. Both are YA novels and both are unique, quite different from one another.
The first is a paranormal fantasy and the second is a science fiction apocalyptic story.
I recently decided to indie publish the paranormal fantasy, which is called FATHOM, and those of you visiting my blog will get a taste of the book today. (YAY!!)
This full-length novel will release on Amazon Kindle on October 1. And if any of you are book bloggers who would like to review the book as part of my blog tour, please post a comment with your email address.
So, my big reveal….Here’s the cover:
Isn’t she gorgeous? And here’s the synopsis…
FATHOM SYNOPSIS:
Everything is changing . . .
Turning sixteen can be hell, especially if everyone in town thinks your mother killed herself and your sister. All Kira Callahan wants to do is swim, hang out with her best friend, Sean, and ignore the kids who torment her at school. That is, until one day when she gets invited to a party. For three minutes her life is wonderful—she even kisses Sean in the driveway. Then somebody spikes her drink at the party and some girls from out of town lure her into the ocean and hold her underwater.
Kira soon discovers that the group of wild teenagers who have come to visit Crescent Moon Bay are not as innocent as they seem. In fact, nothing is as it seems—not the mysterious deaths of her sister and mother, not her heritage, not even her best friend. And everything seems to hinge on the ancient Celtic legends that her mother used to tell her as a child.
And here’s the first chapter…
FATHOM FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter 1
Kira:
I never believed in ghosts.
Until I saw one, face to face, when I was twelve.
It was the middle of the summer, one of those nights when the wind scratched tree branches against my window and the Pacific roared so loud I thought it was going to sweep me away. Something startled me awake, some shifting of our house, beam against beam, old wood crying out in the damp sea breeze.
Almost instantly a chill shiver ran down my arms.
I got out of bed, the wooden floor cool and welcome against my bare feet. I paused in the hallway, noticed the fragrance of freshly cut hawthorn in the air. I used to love that smell.
Not anymore.
Then I saw something in a pool of moonlight—spots of water on the floor.
Like tiny lakes. Each one perfectly formed and separate.
Watery footprints.
Leading toward my father’s door.
I couldn’t breathe or move. Part of me wanted to disappear. Another part of me hoped that maybe the past could be erased and rewritten.
That was when I saw her. My mother.
I have her photo on my nightstand—me, my sister and her—all in a huddle of green leaves. Her dark hair twined with Katie’s and my own like the three of us were one person. We were up in our tree house. My father must have taken that picture. And here she was right in front of me, tall and slender and silver in the pale moonlight, her long dark hair swirling in the muggy summer breeze, looking like a mermaid, her skin glistening as if she had just risen from her briny home.
Dark lips parted and a small gasp came out when she saw me.
It only lasted a moment, but in that amount of time I saw too much.
Her fingers stained with fresh blood, her eyes the color of the ocean, her skin so pale it looked as if she hadn’t been in the sun for years.
“Mom,” a whisper cry came from my lips.
She came nearer then, this wraith from the past, until she could press a slender finger against my lips. She shook her head. We both knew the rules. I grew up on the Celtic legends; they were all my family talked about during the long winter nights, when the fire crackled and spit and our bellies were full.
But for now, silence filled the hallway, just long enough for me to hear the air coming in and out of my mother’s mouth, as if she had run a great distance to get here. Perhaps the gates to the Underworld were farther away than I thought. Or perhaps she had climbed the great cliff our house sat upon, all the way up from the ocean floor, to get here. Finally—when neither of us could bear the quiet any longer and I’m sure both of us would have started weeping, when words would have gushed like streams from our mouths and we would have broken every rule that protected the living from the dead—at that point, she brushed past me down the narrow hallway, toward the back door.
I turned and watched her run, across the yard through the thicket of trees and overgrown thorny bushes, toward the cliff. The same path she took seven years ago.
The night she killed my sister and then threw her tiny body in the ocean.
The very same night that my mother killed herself.
•
I didn’t see the hawthorn branches until the next morning, arcing across every window and lintel that led to the outside. Tiny drops of blood spattered the woodwork, stained the Irish lace curtains. My grandmother cursed beneath her breath as she made breakfast—a sizzle of bacon, the fragrance of burned toast—the Gaelic words draíochta and mallacht dropping like hot stones. My father sat at the table, his eyes downcast and his face the color of a rainy day. But it wasn’t anger in his heart, not like Gram; no, I could tell that sorrow kept his eyes from meeting mine that morning.
I longed to tell him that I had seen her. She’s alive! I wanted to say, but that just wasn’t true. She was haunting us. She had almost spoken to me last night. Almost broke all the rules of heaven and hell and earth, and if we had talked to each other—
I glanced up at Gram, hoping that she couldn’t read my mind—I wondered about that at times.
If my mother and I had talked to each other, well, then I would be damned to a watery grave too. Just like her.
And so on that morning we all sat in the same heavy silence as the evening before. The only sounds, the bright song of the purple finch in the willow tree and Gram’s Gaelic curses.
One strange thing I will always remember about that day.
None of us took any of those hawthorn branches down. Nor did we wipe away any of the blood.
•
Every year after that, on Midsummer’s Eve, my father put the hawthorn branches up himself. He draped every window and door with rugged greenery, while Gram watched him with her hands on her hips, grumbling. She’d shake her head and tsk, saying he was going to wreck all the trees in the yard with his terrible pruning. And then, when he’d had enough of her complaining, he’d go off in a sulk and spend the evening at the local tavern.
While he was gone, Gram would get out her Irish whiskey.
She’d start by pouring a draft into her cup of coffee, but soon enough, it would be whiskey in her cup and she’d be adding a drop or two of coffee for flavor.
Songs would ring throughout the house, from floor to rafter. And then the stories would come. That was when I would slip out of my room, when the yard was full of green trees and dusky sky and the fairy light of a full moon. I would curl on the sofa with our cat and a book on my lap, pretending to read, but really I was just waiting for the stories to begin.
When my grandmother’s voice rose and fell, her tongue thick from liquor, I imagined that I saw my sister and my mother standing just outside the circle of light cast by our windows onto the lawn. They couldn’t come too close, I knew, not when the hawthorn boughs protected us. I imagined that they danced to Gram’s songs and that they wept at her stories.
Unfortunately, all the Irish legends end poorly. Someone falls in love with a vampiric Leanan Sidhe, or a banshee comes singing tales of woe, or a fairy steals your child, leaving a changeling in its place. Whichever way you looked at it, a human could never win the battle against the legendary creatures from my homeland.
Sometimes, when I curled beneath a blanket and stared out at a star-drenched sky, I wondered if that was why my ancestors left Ireland and came here, this small town on the California coast.
Maybe they all wanted to escape the danger. But it didn’t matter. Because, in the end, dark magic and twisted fate can catch up with you, no matter how far you move away.
……………..
So, lovely readers, what do you think? Would any of you like to review this on your blog or write a review for Amazon? Please let me know in the comment section below. And be sure to include your email address!
I’ve actually written 2 books since my last novel, FEAST: Harvest of Dreams , was published. Both are YA novels and both are unique, quite different from one another.
The first is a paranormal fantasy and the second is a science fiction apocalyptic story.
I recently decided to indie publish the paranormal fantasy, which is called FATHOM, and those of you visiting my blog will get a taste of the book today. (YAY!!)
This full-length novel will release on Amazon Kindle on October 1. And if any of you are book bloggers who would like to review the book as part of my blog tour, please post a comment with your email address.
So, my big reveal….Here’s the cover:
Isn’t she gorgeous? And here’s the synopsis…
FATHOM SYNOPSIS:
Everything is changing . . .
Turning sixteen can be hell, especially if everyone in town thinks your mother killed herself and your sister. All Kira Callahan wants to do is swim, hang out with her best friend, Sean, and ignore the kids who torment her at school. That is, until one day when she gets invited to a party. For three minutes her life is wonderful—she even kisses Sean in the driveway. Then somebody spikes her drink at the party and some girls from out of town lure her into the ocean and hold her underwater.
Kira soon discovers that the group of wild teenagers who have come to visit Crescent Moon Bay are not as innocent as they seem. In fact, nothing is as it seems—not the mysterious deaths of her sister and mother, not her heritage, not even her best friend. And everything seems to hinge on the ancient Celtic legends that her mother used to tell her as a child.
And here’s the first chapter…
FATHOM FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter 1
Kira:
I never believed in ghosts.
Until I saw one, face to face, when I was twelve.
It was the middle of the summer, one of those nights when the wind scratched tree branches against my window and the Pacific roared so loud I thought it was going to sweep me away. Something startled me awake, some shifting of our house, beam against beam, old wood crying out in the damp sea breeze.
Almost instantly a chill shiver ran down my arms.
I got out of bed, the wooden floor cool and welcome against my bare feet. I paused in the hallway, noticed the fragrance of freshly cut hawthorn in the air. I used to love that smell.
Not anymore.
Then I saw something in a pool of moonlight—spots of water on the floor.
Like tiny lakes. Each one perfectly formed and separate.
Watery footprints.
Leading toward my father’s door.
I couldn’t breathe or move. Part of me wanted to disappear. Another part of me hoped that maybe the past could be erased and rewritten.
That was when I saw her. My mother.
I have her photo on my nightstand—me, my sister and her—all in a huddle of green leaves. Her dark hair twined with Katie’s and my own like the three of us were one person. We were up in our tree house. My father must have taken that picture. And here she was right in front of me, tall and slender and silver in the pale moonlight, her long dark hair swirling in the muggy summer breeze, looking like a mermaid, her skin glistening as if she had just risen from her briny home.
Dark lips parted and a small gasp came out when she saw me.
It only lasted a moment, but in that amount of time I saw too much.
Her fingers stained with fresh blood, her eyes the color of the ocean, her skin so pale it looked as if she hadn’t been in the sun for years.
“Mom,” a whisper cry came from my lips.
She came nearer then, this wraith from the past, until she could press a slender finger against my lips. She shook her head. We both knew the rules. I grew up on the Celtic legends; they were all my family talked about during the long winter nights, when the fire crackled and spit and our bellies were full.
But for now, silence filled the hallway, just long enough for me to hear the air coming in and out of my mother’s mouth, as if she had run a great distance to get here. Perhaps the gates to the Underworld were farther away than I thought. Or perhaps she had climbed the great cliff our house sat upon, all the way up from the ocean floor, to get here. Finally—when neither of us could bear the quiet any longer and I’m sure both of us would have started weeping, when words would have gushed like streams from our mouths and we would have broken every rule that protected the living from the dead—at that point, she brushed past me down the narrow hallway, toward the back door.
I turned and watched her run, across the yard through the thicket of trees and overgrown thorny bushes, toward the cliff. The same path she took seven years ago.
The night she killed my sister and then threw her tiny body in the ocean.
The very same night that my mother killed herself.
•
I didn’t see the hawthorn branches until the next morning, arcing across every window and lintel that led to the outside. Tiny drops of blood spattered the woodwork, stained the Irish lace curtains. My grandmother cursed beneath her breath as she made breakfast—a sizzle of bacon, the fragrance of burned toast—the Gaelic words draíochta and mallacht dropping like hot stones. My father sat at the table, his eyes downcast and his face the color of a rainy day. But it wasn’t anger in his heart, not like Gram; no, I could tell that sorrow kept his eyes from meeting mine that morning.
I longed to tell him that I had seen her. She’s alive! I wanted to say, but that just wasn’t true. She was haunting us. She had almost spoken to me last night. Almost broke all the rules of heaven and hell and earth, and if we had talked to each other—
I glanced up at Gram, hoping that she couldn’t read my mind—I wondered about that at times.
If my mother and I had talked to each other, well, then I would be damned to a watery grave too. Just like her.
And so on that morning we all sat in the same heavy silence as the evening before. The only sounds, the bright song of the purple finch in the willow tree and Gram’s Gaelic curses.
One strange thing I will always remember about that day.
None of us took any of those hawthorn branches down. Nor did we wipe away any of the blood.
•
Every year after that, on Midsummer’s Eve, my father put the hawthorn branches up himself. He draped every window and door with rugged greenery, while Gram watched him with her hands on her hips, grumbling. She’d shake her head and tsk, saying he was going to wreck all the trees in the yard with his terrible pruning. And then, when he’d had enough of her complaining, he’d go off in a sulk and spend the evening at the local tavern.
While he was gone, Gram would get out her Irish whiskey.
She’d start by pouring a draft into her cup of coffee, but soon enough, it would be whiskey in her cup and she’d be adding a drop or two of coffee for flavor.
Songs would ring throughout the house, from floor to rafter. And then the stories would come. That was when I would slip out of my room, when the yard was full of green trees and dusky sky and the fairy light of a full moon. I would curl on the sofa with our cat and a book on my lap, pretending to read, but really I was just waiting for the stories to begin.
When my grandmother’s voice rose and fell, her tongue thick from liquor, I imagined that I saw my sister and my mother standing just outside the circle of light cast by our windows onto the lawn. They couldn’t come too close, I knew, not when the hawthorn boughs protected us. I imagined that they danced to Gram’s songs and that they wept at her stories.
Unfortunately, all the Irish legends end poorly. Someone falls in love with a vampiric Leanan Sidhe, or a banshee comes singing tales of woe, or a fairy steals your child, leaving a changeling in its place. Whichever way you looked at it, a human could never win the battle against the legendary creatures from my homeland.
Sometimes, when I curled beneath a blanket and stared out at a star-drenched sky, I wondered if that was why my ancestors left Ireland and came here, this small town on the California coast.
Maybe they all wanted to escape the danger. But it didn’t matter. Because, in the end, dark magic and twisted fate can catch up with you, no matter how far you move away.
……………..
So, lovely readers, what do you think? Would any of you like to review this on your blog or write a review for Amazon? Please let me know in the comment section below. And be sure to include your email address!
June 27, 2012
Cover Reveal: The Plague Carrier + WoW: Tarnished by Karina Cooper
Today I'm combining two posts in one—the cover reveal for my new young adult post-apocalyptic story, THE PLAGUE CARRIER, plus a Waiting on Wednesday post about Karina Cooper's amazing new book, TARNISHED.
First up, THE PLAGUE CARRIER:
SYNOPSIS:
THE PLAGUE CARRIER tells the story of a teenage girl who runs away from home and the high price she has to pay—for in her post-apocalyptic world this is a crime against the state. She's sold into a labor camp, where she must search for valuables in a field of dead warriors. Her problems go from bad to worse, however, when she stumbles upon a plague carrier, a boy her age who could kill her entire camp with a single drop from the flask he carries around his neck.
This novelette of 26 pages is the first in a series of stories set in this post-apocalyptic world and it will release on Amazon Kindle within the next week.
Check back here for more information on the release of THE PLAGUE CARRIER!
Next, my Waiting on Wednesday selection for this week: TARNISHED, by Karina Cooper:
AMAZON SYNOPSIS:
My name is Cherry St. Croix. Society would claim that I am a well-heeled miss with an unfortunate familial reputation. They've no idea of the truth of it. In my secret world, I hunt down vagrants, thieves . . . and now, a murderer. For a monster stalks London's streets, leaving a trail of mystery and murder below the fog.
Eager for coin to fuel my infatuations, I must decide where my attentions will turn: to my daylight world, where my scientific mind sets me apart from respectable Society, or to the compelling domain of London below. Each has a man who has claimed my time as his—for good or for ill. Though as the corpses pile, and the treacherous waters of Society gossip churn, I am learning that each also has its dangers. One choice will see me cast from polite company . . . the other might just see me dead.
Link to purchase this book.
I started reading sample chapters of TARNISHED last night and I love it! Once again, Karina has created a unique world where reader feels completely immersed from page one. I've been waiting for this book for very long time, ever since I first found out she was working on a steampunk series. And I'm so excited that it's finally available for purchase.
First up, THE PLAGUE CARRIER:
SYNOPSIS:
THE PLAGUE CARRIER tells the story of a teenage girl who runs away from home and the high price she has to pay—for in her post-apocalyptic world this is a crime against the state. She's sold into a labor camp, where she must search for valuables in a field of dead warriors. Her problems go from bad to worse, however, when she stumbles upon a plague carrier, a boy her age who could kill her entire camp with a single drop from the flask he carries around his neck.
This novelette of 26 pages is the first in a series of stories set in this post-apocalyptic world and it will release on Amazon Kindle within the next week.
Check back here for more information on the release of THE PLAGUE CARRIER!
Next, my Waiting on Wednesday selection for this week: TARNISHED, by Karina Cooper:
AMAZON SYNOPSIS:
My name is Cherry St. Croix. Society would claim that I am a well-heeled miss with an unfortunate familial reputation. They've no idea of the truth of it. In my secret world, I hunt down vagrants, thieves . . . and now, a murderer. For a monster stalks London's streets, leaving a trail of mystery and murder below the fog.
Eager for coin to fuel my infatuations, I must decide where my attentions will turn: to my daylight world, where my scientific mind sets me apart from respectable Society, or to the compelling domain of London below. Each has a man who has claimed my time as his—for good or for ill. Though as the corpses pile, and the treacherous waters of Society gossip churn, I am learning that each also has its dangers. One choice will see me cast from polite company . . . the other might just see me dead.
Link to purchase this book.
I started reading sample chapters of TARNISHED last night and I love it! Once again, Karina has created a unique world where reader feels completely immersed from page one. I've been waiting for this book for very long time, ever since I first found out she was working on a steampunk series. And I'm so excited that it's finally available for purchase.
June 21, 2012
A hearty thank you
Thank you to everyone who participated in the recent free giveaway of WAITING FOR MIDNIGHT! Many of you either downloaded the e-book or shared a link online. Because of you, my collection of short stories was #3 in the Free Kindle Fantasy Best Sellers list.
THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!!
I heart you.
THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT!!
I heart you.
