Nobody likes Devon James, including Devon James. And why should they? He had it all and took it for granted—money, girls, popularity and a future with endless possibility. Now he’s just a washed up has-been. Or so everyone thinks. No one knows the real reason the handsome soccer star quit the team and dumped the hottest girl in school, but they’re not about to forgive him for it either. That’s why he’s perfect for Samantha Connors.
Sam Connors always follows the rules. But when her father forces her to leave Boston to finish her senior year of high school at a posh prep school in Ireland she has no choice but to rebel. And bad boy Devon James is just the guy to help her break all the rules.
Sam is determined to get her life back and return to Boston by any means necessary. Her plan is crazy, but she’s convinced it will work—almost.
A Fun, Fast, YA Romance Read. Perfect for fans of Gossip Girl, 13 Reasons Why and Pretty Little Liars. (Note: Suggested reading age 16+ for mature language and content.)
About the Author:
Christina Benjamin is an Award-Winning Author residing in Florida. She’s a proud book nerd, 100% Gryffindor, has entirely too many book boyfriends and loves coffee and tacos!
She loves to read and write across genres. Her best selling books are The Geneva Project series and The Practice Boyfriend. Check them out if you dare.
And follow her on Amazon.
Author: Tera Lynn Childs
Series: Creative Hearts #5; Sloane and Tru #2 Published by: Entangled Teen
Release Day: November 14, 2016
Genre: YA Contemporary Romance
Sloane Whitaker never expected to like living in Texas, but after a few months in the Lone Star State, she has to admit she likes the food, the school, and the boy next door. What she doesn’t like is the fact that half her family is still back in New York. Convincing her dad to relocate to Texas requires making their upcoming visit as perfect as possible. The perfect dinner, the perfect daughter…with the perfect boyfriend.
But when her not-so-perfect boyfriend Tru Dorsey is suddenly not-so-available, Sloane has to find another dad-impressing guy to show off at dinner. Tru himself suggests enlisting the help of a fake boyfriend, but the reality of another guy with Sloane on his arm might be more than Tru can manage. Add in a mysterious blackmailer and a divided family, and Sloane and Tru’s relationship might not be able to handle the heat.
Disclaimer: This Entangled Teen Crush book contains a bad boy next door, the good girl who snags his heart, and one epically disastrous ruse-gone-wrong. Join the fun at your own risk.
Tera Lynn Childs is the RITA-award-winning young adult author of the mythology-based Oh. My. Gods. series, the Forgive My Fins mermaid romance series, the kick-butt monster-hunting Sweet Venom trilogy, and the Darkly Fae series. She also writes the City Chicks sweet chick lit romance series and is co-writing the Hero Agenda series with Tracy Deebs. Tera lives nowhere in particular and spends her time writing wherever she can find a comfy chair and a steady stream of caffeinated beverages.
By lunchtime, the morning clouds had cleared, and the bright blue of a clear sky and soft winter sunlight practically begged Tru to film something.
He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and opened the camera app. If he had his choice of gear, this wasn’t even in the top ten. He had three quality cameras at home and there were at least a dozen in the Cinematography classroom in Building F. Hell, he even had a decent handheld in his backpack.
But what the smartphone gave up in quality, it more than made up for in portability and the ability to take candid footage.
Sloane didn’t even notice when he started filming.
Her friend Jenna glanced at the camera and then back down at her carefully arranged lunch.
Tru loved capturing these secret moments. Not just with Sloane, although he probably loved those the most, but in everyday life in general. Those instances that happened over and over again, most of the time without anyone taking any more notice than they do of a gentle breeze.
To capture those moments, to document them for eternity—or at least as long as the technology would allow—made him feel like he was contributing to something greater than himself.
Like he was turning life into art.
And the intersection of life and art described his relationship with Sloane perfectly. She came into his life at a low point, at a moment when the prospect of spending another year in the uncertain torment of life under his father’s roof was becoming unbearable. She moved in next door and provided a light at the end of the tunnel. If he could just keep walking toward her, just keep her light in sight, then maybe—just maybe—he could make it out alive.
He knew he was being a bit melodramatic. His life wasn’t actually on the line. The situation with his father never escalated to a dangerous level. But escape was almost always on Tru’s mind. Sometimes he felt like he might go insane under the constant scrutiny and attempted control.
Ever since Sloane and her mom moved in next door, he’d been thinking about escape less and less.
She gave him a reason to stay.
“Hey!”
A grape popped him in the forehead as Sloane finally realized he was filming her.
“What?” he asked with a grin, shaking off his dark thoughts.
“We talked about this,” she said. “No filming me without warning.”
“No, you talked about it.” He kept filming. “I never agreed to anything.”
She reached for the phone, but he pulled it out of reach, careful to keep her in the frame.
“This is why I can’t bring you home to meet Mom,” she teased.
He knew she meant it as a joke—he’d met her mom dozens of times. They were neighbors, after all. But there was an edge of truth beneath the sarcasm. An edge just big enough to sharpen his own humor.
“But does it explain why I can’t bring you home to meet the ‘rents?” he tossed back.
He regretted the words as soon as he said them. He couldn’t be prouder of Sloane or of being her boyfriend. To even suggest she wasn’t good enough for his family was ridiculous. Especially when the opposite was actually true. He wasn’t good enough for hers.
The Giveaway:
Paperback copies of Ten Things Sloane Hates About Tru + Falling for the Girl Next Door (Open Internationally)
Title: Cursing Fate Author: Brenda Drake Series Info: The Fated #2 Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: Nov. 21, 2016
Book Description:
There’s something strange about the Layne sisters, and Wade Diaz wants nothing to do with them. Especially the one who ripped his heart out and set it on fire before tossing it in the garbage several months ago. Iris. He can’t even think her name without unconsciously rubbing the spot in his chest where she left a gaping hole. But now her sisters are claiming some evil spirit is after his soul, and Iris is the only one who can save him. Well, at least his heart would stop hurting, right? Didn’t sound so bad.
Iris Layne has always been the sweet sister. She’s kind to everyone, including her best friend Wade… Until she makes a horrible mistake and breaks his heart. All she wants is to go back to before ‘the dumping’. Of course, Wade would rather see her in hell first. But then Iris touches her sister’s tarot cards and unleashes an evil curse intent on playing a deadly game where no one Iris loves is safe, especially Wade.
How do you convince someone they need your help when you’re the one who hurt them most?
Brenda Drake grew up the youngest of three children, an Air Force brat, and the continual new kid at school. Her fondest memories growing up is of her eccentric, Irish grandmother’s animated tales, which gave her a strong love for storytelling. So it was only fitting that she would choose to write stories with a bend toward the fantastical. When she’s not writing or hanging out with her family, she haunts libraries, bookstores, and coffee shops, or reads someplace quiet and not at all exotic (much to her disappointment). Author Website: http://www.brenda-drake.com/ Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendadrake Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BrendaLeeDrake/ Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brendadrakeauthor/ Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7012713.Brenda_Drake
The Giveaway:
$25 Amazon Gift Card + a Cursing Fate Prize Pack (US)
(International winners will only receive the $25 Amazon Gift Card.) (INT)
When he steered the motorcycle into the parking lot of the marina, Violet, Dena, and Carys waited by Dena’s Ford Focus. He parked and waited for Iris to get off before unsaddling the bike.
She removed her helmet. “I thought we were going to be alone.”
“It’s a special day.” He opened the seat and put his and her helmets inside.
“Special? How?”
“You’ll see,” he said, crossing the parking lot to the others.
After saying their hellos, the group trekked over the docks until the second-to-last row where Wade’s boat was kept in a slip. After they were all on the boat with life jackets secured, Wade motioned for Dena to untie it from the dock while he turned on the motor. The others found seats around the deck. “So we’re actually taking it out?” Iris said, standing beside Wade in the cockpit.
“Yep.” He steered it through the marina to the open ocean, only having to avoid a few boats on his way. The harbor was nearly empty, with it being a workday.
Iris adjusted her feet to stay balanced with the rocking of the boat. “This will take longer than two hours.”
“We’re just going to head out a little ways for the big reveal,” he said.
“Is the reveal that the boat won’t sink?” Iris laughed.
He flashed a smile at her. “Funny.”
The farther the sailboat moved away from the marina, the more excited Wade got. He couldn’t believe that the boat was almost ready. He spent so much time with Dena and Carys fixing it up. This first run was for Iris. For the big reveal.
When he’d picked a perfect spot, he turned off the motor and looked over at her. “Want to take the helm?”
Wade and Dena rushed around hoisting the main sail. Next, they raised the jib. Carys and Violet clapped and whistled. Wade glanced back to see Iris’s reaction. She squeezed the wheel tight, her hair whipping around her head as she looked up, her mouth wide. On the main sail was a dragon Iris had painted for him. The maker had copied the image and transferred it to the sail.
“What do you think?” Wade yelled over the wind.
Iris held her hair away from her face. Her expression excited Wade. “I love it!” she shouted over the crashing of the waves.
The wind was perfect—not too weak and not too strong— and the boat went out for a bit before Wade brought it back to shore. After the sails were lowered and secured, he turned on the motor and maneuvered it to its place in the marina.
Dena and Wade went about tying the boat to the dock. Wade snuck glimpses of Iris as she took off her life jacket.
You’re only torturing yourself, Diaz. He shook his head and finished off the knot he was tying.
A rope hit him in the face.
“Pay attention,” Dena said, towing the rope back to her.
“I was,” Wade said, grabbing the other end.
Dena shot him a knowing smile. “Not the kind of attention I meant.”
Book Title: Infinity Author: Jus Accardo
Release Day: November 1, 2016
Genre: YA Sci-Fi
There are three things Kori knows for sure about her life:
One: Her army general dad is insanely overprotective.
Two: The guy he sent to watch her, Cade, is way too good-looking.
Three: Everything she knew was a lie.
Now there are three things Kori never knew about her life:
One: There’s a device that allows her to jump dimensions.
Two: Cade’s got a lethal secret.
Three: Someone wants her dead.
JUS ACCARDO spent her childhood reading and learning to cook. Determined to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps as a chef, she applied and was accepted to the Culinary Institute of America. But at the last minute, she realized her true path lay with fiction, not food.
Jus is the bestselling author of the popular Denazen series from Entangled publishing, as well as the Darker Agency series, and the New Adult series, The Eternal Balance. A native New Yorker, she lives in the middle of nowhere with her husband, three dogs, and sometimes guard bear, Oswald.
“Is that something people lie about around here?” His blue jeans were worn, pulled over battered black combat boots. The sole of the left one was peeling away from the shoe. Did he think he could slack because Dad wasn't here? That no one would see him and report back? Even if they had permission to be in civies, there were strict standards. While off duty, a soldier had to maintain a neat, well-groomed appearance. This was more an outfit worthy of a high school rebel, which, honestly, this guy didn't look much older than.
The one in the back pushed him aside and came forward. Black hair fell just below his ears and had a slight wave to it. It was fuller than normally allowed, not even close to regulation. On some of our previous bases, hair standards weren't strictly enforced. But at Hannity, they were sticklers. High and tight. Those were the rules.
Like the other guy, he had on a leather jacket with black fatigue pants tucked into slightly worn combat boots. Unlike the first, though, this one had seen some trouble in his day. There was a thin scar on the left side of his face. It went from just above his eyebrow, down across his eye and to the tip of his chin.
My pulse spiked a little as his gaze raked over me. Down and up, then up and down, lips parting slightly. I didn't go for greenies, but this one sent the butterflies in my stomach tripping crazy. It was the scar. It added character to his angular face, suggesting that maybe there was more than meets the eye. Or possibly it was the way he was looking at me. With a spark of hunger and something close to wonder in his expression. I'd never had anyone look at me that way. Like I was something mythical and rare. A creature that shouldn't exist. I twisted, shifting so that the door obscured just a little more of me from his view.
He hesitated, focus still trained on me, and for a moment I thought he might poke me to be sure I was real. Clearing his throat, he finally said, “I'm Private First Class Cade Granger, and this is…” He paused to glance over his shoulder. “Recruit Noah Emeal.”
“A private and a fuzzy Really?” I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or insulted. I mean, why bother sending supervision at all if you were going to scrape the bottom of the barrel?
“I promise you'll be safe with us, Miss Anderson.”
Miss Anderson. Huh. Maybe there wasn't more to this guy. He sounded just like the rest of them. Formal and uptight. “That right? So you're here to save me from myself?” Because, really, that was the problem, right? I couldn't be trusted to keep myself out of trouble.
“I'm not sure I understand.” He tilted his head to the left, confused, but didn’t take his eyes off me. In fact, if anything, his gaze grew more intense. It was like he and I were the only ones in the room. In the world…
“I'd really appreciate it if you could stop staring.” I snapped. “I can't tell if you're mentally trying to strip me, or contemplating which way to cook my skin for Sunday dinner. Either way, it’s creeping me the hell out.”
In Khya’s world, every breath is a battle.
On the isolated desert island of Shiara, dying young is inevitable. The clan comes before self, and protecting her home means Khya is a warrior above all else.
But when following the clan and obeying their leaders could cost her brother his life, Khya’s home becomes a deadly trap. The only person who can help is Tessen, her lifelong rival and the boy who challenges her at every turn. The council she hoped to join has betrayed her, and their secrets, hundreds of years deep, reach around a world she’s never seen.
To save her brother’s life and her island home, her only choice is to trust Tessen, turn against her clan, and go on the run—a betrayal and a death sentence.
About the Author:
After a lifelong obsession with books, Erica Cameron spent her college years getting credit for reading and learning how to make stories of her own. Erica graduated with a double major in psychology and creative writing from Florida State University and began pursuing a career as an author.
Erica is many things but most notably the following: writer, reader, editor, asexual, dance fan, choreographer, singer, lover of musical theater, movie obsessed, sucker for romance, Florida resident, and quasi-recluse. She loves the beach but hates the heat, has equal passion for the art of Salvador Dali and Venetian Carnival masks, has a penchant for unique jewelry and sun/moon décor pieces, and a desire to travel the entire world on a cruise ship. Or a private yacht. You know, whatever works.
Her debut novel, Sing Sweet Nightingale, released March 2014 and it was the first volume of The Dream War Saga. In May 2015, Erica and her co-author Lani Woodland launched the Laguna Tides series with Taken by Chance. Riptide’s new YA imprint Triton Books will release both books in the Assassins series, Discord and Nemesis, in 2016. The Ryogan Chronicles, a fantasy trilogy set to launch through Entangled Teen, will launch in 2017 with Island of Exiles.
I’ve been lied to, deceived, and manipulated once again. I shouldn’t be surprised, but in a way I am. You’d think I’d be treated with dignity, my every desire fulfilled by those who need me the most. But instead, they plan to control me, keep me hidden, and force me to be complacent while I give birth over and over again.
Hell, I’m the one who’s supposed to save humanity, right? I’m the one with the power to re-populate this world of clones, my ancestors who were produced from harvested DNA.
Michael. He loves me. At this point, he may be my only friend. There may be others. Tension is building in the regions. A secret sect is growing. A rebellion is imminent.
My awakening into this future should have been my savior, my renaissance, my ally.
But instead, it has become my plague.
About the author:
Karri Thompson, a native of San Diego, California, grew up hanging out at the beach, playing sports, and eventually attending San Diego State University where she earned her bachelor’s degree in English and master’s degree in education. When she’s not nerding out at San Diego Comic-Con or watching Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings movies for the umpteenth time, she can be seen doing normal people stuff like teaching high-school English, cooking delicious meals for her family (she attributes all of her culinary skills to the Food Network), and attending her son’s football games. In her spare time, she writes young adult and new adult fiction, her biggest passion, and loves listening to hard rock music and going to concerts. She hopes to live long and prosper, and that you will, too.
Michael was the
only good thing to come out of my awakening. I didn’t know how long we’d have
together, but I realized I wanted to make every second with him count. Twisting
to face him, I brought my right leg to the other side of his body and kissed
him gently at first, and then a little harder as he brought his hands to my
back, massaging his fingers against my shoulder blades.
His lips moved to
my neck, and he slid his hand through the hair at the base of my head. I lay
against him, savoring his warm breath at my throat as his chest pressed against
mine.
“Duck!” Cradling
my body, he scrambled to the floor, bringing me down with him.
“What?” I
whispered.
“I saw something
outside. A shadow. It looked like a person.”
“Victoria! I need
to get her.” Crawling on my hands and knees, I entered the living room and
picked up my sleeping baby.
“Behind the couch.
Let’s go.”
“Watch her,” I
said, and rested her on the floor next to Michael.
Drawing the laser
pistol from my waist, I scooted to the edge of the couch where I could see the
back door.
“I locked it,” he
whispered, “but any Security guard or SEC can open it.”
The door slid open. I aimed my pistol, my arms and
hands trembling.
Published: November 17th, 2015 Published by: Skyscape Genre: YA Paranormal/Fantasy
Seven girls tied by time.
Five powers that bind.
One curse to lock the horror away.
One attic to keep the monsters at bay.
**
After the storm of the century rips apart New Orleans, sixteen-year-old Adele Le Moyne wants nothing more than her now silent city to return to normal. But with home resembling a war zone, a parish-wide curfew, and mysterious new faces lurking in the abandoned French Quarter, normalneeds a new definition.
As the city murder rate soars, Adele finds herself tangled in a web of magic that weaves back to her own ancestors. Caught in a hurricane of myths and monsters, who can she trust when everyone has a secret and keeping them can mean life or death? Unless . . . you’re immortal.
Alys Arden was raised by the street performers, tea leaf-readers, and glittering drag queens of the New Orleans, French Quarter. She cut her teeth on the streets of New York and has worked all around the world since. She either talks too much or not at all. She obsessively documents things. Her hair ranges from eggplant to cotton-candy-colored.
One dreary day in London, while dreaming of running away with the circus, she started writing The Casquette Girls. Her debut novel garnered over one million reads online before being acquired by Skyscape in a two book deal. Rep’d by ICM.
The day had finally come.
Elation coursed through my head, my chest, my stomach—until the tips of my fingers tingled, as if the sensation were trying to escape the confines of my nervous system.
My father and I were finally on our way home.
Trying not to let the anticipation drive me crazy, I leaned back in the passenger seat and took deep breaths, inhaling the scents of worn black leather and bubble gum. The combination reminded me of sitting in the front seat as a child. I’d always been up for a ride in my father’s prized possession because I knew there’d be a sugary pink stick waiting for me in the glove box.
The city wasn’t exactly encouraging people to come home yet, but my father had always been a bit of a rebel. This fact, topped with endless nights of me begging and pleading, had finally made those four little words slip out of his mouth: “Okay, let’s go home.”
As soon as he caved, I fled the Parisian boarding school where my French mother had dumped me while my father and I were “displaced.” She didn’t tell me good-bye, and I never looked back.
I landed in Miami late last night, and we were on the road by six this morning. I didn’t want to give my father the chance to renege.
Ten hours later, we were still purring down the interstate in his 1981 BMW.
But I didn’t mind the long drive. In my sixteen years, I’d never been away from my father for that long. I’d never been away from New Orleans for that long either. It felt like years since the mandatory evacuation, but in reality it had only been two months—two months, two days, and nine hours since the Storm had touched ground.
The Storm was the largest hurricane in US history. Scientists were still debating whether it should even be considered a hurricane because it had smashed all previous classification parameters. They didn’t even name it. Everyone simply referred to it as “the Storm.” Economists were predicting it would end up being the greatest natural disaster in the Western world, and there were even rumors flying around that the federal government was considering constituting the area uninhabitable and not rebuilding the city. That idea was incomprehensible to me.
The media was all over the place about the devastation. We’d heard such conflicting stories there was really no telling what would be awaiting us (or not awaiting us) upon our arrival. Had our home been damaged, flooded, ransacked, robbed—or any combination of those things? Was it now just rotting away? I fiddled with the sun-shaped charm hanging from the silver necklace that nearly reached my waist, wrapping and unwrapping the thin chain around my fingers.
My phone buzzed.
Brooke 3:42 p.m. Are you close? Text me as
soon as you get home. I want to know everything, ASAP! xoxo.
I quickly pecked,
Adele3:43 p.m. I will! How’s La-La land? <3 nbsp="" p="">
I didn’t exactly have a laundry list of close friends, but Brooke Jones and I had been attached at the hip since the second grade. The Joneses had been stuck in Los Angeles since the evacuation, and Brooke was freaking out on a daily basis because her parents were adjusting to the West Coast lifestyle at an alarming rate. Even the thought that her parents might permanently relocate to California made me cringe.
“Waffle House?” my father asked as we sped past the Florida state line into Alabama. He proceeded down the exit ramp before I could respond.
A bell dinged when I opened the door of the infamous southern chain, causing all of the employees to shout a welcome without looking up from what they were doing. My father headed to the bathroom, and I jumped into a booth, grabbing a napkin to wipe pancake-syrup residue off the table.
“I’ll be with ya in a second, darlin’,” a waitress yelled from across the narrow, shoe box–shaped diner.
Johnny Cash blared on the jukebox, the air reeked of grease, and the fluorescent bulb in the overhead light gave everything a sickly tint. I couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking about the stark contrast of this scene to my life just two nights ago: sitting in a café on the Champs-Élysées, eating a crêpe suzettes with my mother. Well, I’d been eating a crêpe. She’d never allow herself to eat something as appalling as sugar.
Midchuckle, I caught the gaze of a guy sitting solo in a booth across the aisle, who was slowly stirring a cup of coffee. Our eyes locked. My cheeks started to burn. I grabbed a menu so I could pretend to focus on something and let my long waves of espresso-colored hair fall in front of my face, trying to recall the last time I’d taken a shower. Ugh. I’d been in transit for more than twenty-four hours at this point.
I lifted my eyes to find him still looking intensely at me.
He was probably a few years older than me . . . and far too sophisticated to be sitting in this particular establishment among the tall hairdos and flip-flops. His black leather jacket was not the biker kind you might find in any diner in the Deep South—it was softer looking, trendier, possibly custom-made. The jacket, along with his dark, slicked hair, made him appear part James Dean, part Italian Vogue. For a split second I forgot where I was, as if stuck in some kind of Paris–Alabama time-continuum hiccup.
When I realized I was staring at him again, I became instantly flustered. His eyes didn’t move, but the corners of his mouth slowly spread upward into an innocent smile. Or maybe it was deceptively innocent? Just as my heart began to speed up at the prospect of finding out, my fork slid across the table, flew halfway across the room, and clanked against his ceramic mug.
“Sorry!” I covered my face, mortified, and considered crawling underneath the table. I’d been so caught up in the moment I hadn’t even noticed myself flick it.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll bring ya a new one,” the waitress yelled.
As if I was worried about the fork. I’d nearly taken out the eye of the hottest guy within a fifty-mile radius. My heart pounded melodramatically.
When I finally mustered the courage to raise my head to catch another glimpse of him, all I saw was his mug on top of a ten-dollar bill. Realizing I’d been hiding my gaze from no one, I became even more embarrassed.
Of course he ran. I am obviously hazardous.
“You okay?” my father asked as he slid into the orange leather booth.
“Yep, the jet lag must have just kicked in,” I blurted out, “but I’m super excited for cheesy eggs.”
“I thought you hated American cheese?” he asked suspiciously. “You always called it plastic.”
“Yeah, well, I guess something becomes more desirable when you can’t have it.” There were certainly no American-cheese-like products in France.
We ordered and then sat in silence while we waited for our food. My father turned his head to stare out the window. I knew he was too nervous to ask me about Paris, and I was not going to readily volunteer up any information. It was weird to spend your entire life with someone, be suddenly separated for two months, and then reunite. It felt strange that it felt strange being together.
Luckily the food came quickly, and soon he was polishing off a stack of waffles, while I forced myself to choke down eggs smothered in plastic cheese.
“How about I drive for a while?” I asked as we headed back to the car.
“How about I drive and you study?”
“Why should I study? Technically, I’m not even enrolled in a school right now.”
“You are enrolled in a school right now, Adele . . .”
I unintentionally slammed the passenger door after getting in.
“You are technically still enrolled in Notre-Dame International.” He pulled out of the deserted parking lot and in his best I-am-serious voice added, “And if we get to New Orleans and find out you can’t get into a local school, you’re going to be on the first plane back to Paris. Back to school. That was the deal.”
“I am not going back to Paris.” I didn’t care what I had previously agreed to. “Je déteste Notre-Dame International! Je déteste Paris!” I said in my most dramatic French accent, but I stopped myself before I said something about detesting my mother. Those were words he certainly would’ve understood. But he had only himself to blame for my speaking French; he was the one who’d forced me to take private lessons since I was five—a year after my mother had skipped town—as if my ability to speak her native language might bring her back.
“I can’t believe you shipped me off there in the first place. I belong here, not with rich kids in boarding school. Not with her.”
My eyes began to well up. I knew my reaction would upset him, but even the thought of having to go back to Paris made me want to jump out of the moving car and run away.
He didn’t know what to do or say next, and soon the old Bimmer filled up with awkward tension. The slightest sign of teen-girl tears made Macalister Le Moyne uncomfortable. My father always tried his best to be paternal, but it never really seemed natural for him, not even after all this time of it being just the two of us.
He patted my hand. “Don’t get upset. You know school comes
first.”
I’d never once heard him say anything bad about my mother, but I could tell he felt relieved that I’d fight to stay in New Orleans with him instead of returning to her in Paris. He was simultaneously terrified and proud that I’d inherited his rebellious streak rather than her need for refinement.
Ever since I could remember, my father lived with a perpetually tired look. He’d inherited the ever-popular bar Le Chat Noir from my grandfather around the same time my mother left us, making him an artist-turned-business-owner and single parent all at once. Since then, he kept mostly nocturnal hours, waking midday to give himself enough time to work on sculptures and furniture in his metal shop before going back to the bar. Now he was unshaven and a bit shaggier than usual, appearing to have aged a few years in the last couple of months, just like all the other displaced citizens of New Orleans.
The Storm had been peculiar, not just because of the suddenness with which it had grown but because its target had been so unexpected. The day before it hit, the Storm was a routine Category 2 hurricane—not something to shrug off but something people knew how to handle— predicted to make landfall somewhere around Galveston, Texas. Eighteen hours prior to hitting land, the hurricane unpredictably changed course and headed straight for New Orleans.
Trying to clear the city with such short notice caused total mayhem. We ended up evacuating to Miami with a few of Dad’s bartenders, never dreaming we’d be gone for more than a few days. But before the Storm left the Gulf of Mexico, it tipped the Saffir-Simpson scale, and once it hit land, like most folks upon arrival in New Orleans, it didn’t want to leave. We watched in horror as it hovered.
And hovered.
And hovered.
All we could do was stare at the TV and wait for our unwelcome houseguest to take a hint.
That was before the levees broke and turned the city into a fishbowl.
When reality kicked in and we were suddenly unable to return home for an undetermined period, my father decided I would be better off in Paris with my mother than in Miami with a bunch of vagabonds looking for bar work. I wasn’t sure if he really believed that or if he’d just cracked under post-Storm pressure; either way, he shipped me off to France as soon as he managed to get in touch with her. As far as I knew, that was the first time they’d had contact in the twelve years she’d been gone.
I refused to let the tears fall as I looked out the car window.
I’m not going back to live with her. I won’t let it happen. New Orleans is my home.
Even thinking about going back to Paris made me immediately selfconscious. Up until eight weeks ago, I’d always thought of myself as just a normal teenager—not the head-cheerleader type but not the type to be shoved into lockers either. I did pretty well in school but was certainly not in the running for valedictorian. Besides rebellion, I’d also inherited my father’s artistic tendencies, but (to my curatorial mother’s high-art dismay) I channeled them mostly through designing clothes. Despite all of this, I’d hardly tipped average by Parisian standards. During the last two months, I couldn’t have felt more plain, more uncultured, or more passé. My Parisian classmates were like ballerinas in six-inch heels, born to analyze haute couture and recite Baudelaire, making my skinny jeans and DIY dresses seem childish and unsophisticated.
I sighed and attempted to push the French memories out of my consciousness: the sparkling Eiffel Tower, the macarons from Ladurée, and most of all Émile.
My stomach twisted.
I definitely didn’t want to think about Émile. Not the way his slight smile always made me wonder what he was thinking. Not his Vespa or ’iz stupid, sexy accent.
Pathetic, Adele. You didn’t mean anything to him. He’s just your mother’s assistant.
The car went over a bump, and I realized trying not to think about Émile was actually making me think about Émile. Ugh.
Once upon a time I found myself locked away in Spindle Ridge Asylum, punished for a murder I didn’t commit. It was all part of Maleficent’s evil plan. I didn’t remember who I was then … now I do. My name is Aurora, and I am the rightful queen of this realm. Armed with my memories, I’m ready to take charge of my kingdom once more. Happily ever after evades me, yet I long to claim it with my true love, Sawyer, beside me. That fairy tale ending seems impossible with him locked in the thralls of a sleeping curse. As much as I’d love to sit by his bedside and eagerly await a cure, I must first travel into the terrifying Dark Woods to stop Raven from stripping me of all that is rightfully mine. I am not only a queen, but a warrior who will fight for her kingdom. Some may die. Blood will be shed. But when this ending comes, I will settle for nothing less than a blissful ever after. About the Author:
Christy Sloat is a SoCal born girl who resides in New Jersey currently with her husband, two daughters and Sophie her Chihuahua. Christy has embraced the love of reading and writing since her youth and was inspired by her grandmother’s loving support. Christy passes that love of reading, writing, and creativity to her daughters, family, and friends. When you do not find Christy within the pages of a book you can find her being mommy, wife, crafter, and dear friend. She loves adventurous journeys with her friends and can be known to get lost inside a bookstore. Be sure to venture into her Past Lives Series, The Visitor’s Series, and watch for many more exciting things to come.
I took a breath and let all of my energy go to my fingers.
My body still.
My heart beating a mile a minute.
The next breath would be a release.
Focus. Focus.
The next breath came, and with my fingers, where all of my strength remained, I let go. The arrow flew through the air, the only thing moving. I was still as I watched it slam into the target. It hit very center of the target just like I wanted.
“Yes!” I shouted.
Sawyer would have been so proud of me. And just like that my excitement was gone. My mind now on him as he lay up in a bed, alone.
“Rory, don’t do this to yourself,” Gray said holding my arm. She knew what practicing archery did to me. She knew that I was great at it, but also that every time I did something fantastic, I missed his touch. She knew all of this without me even telling her a word because she knows me best.
“I have to go, Gray. I have to go see him and tell him about this,” I said, fighting the tears.
“No. You don’t have to go, you want to go. You’re running away, and I won’t let you,” she said sternly.
I tried to fight, but she won as she pulled me harder and into her arms.
I cried softly as she assured me we would find a way to wake him.
I pulled away and questioned, “Will we? It’s been two months and Merryweather and Flora have not sent word. They haven’t sent word because they haven’t found anything!”
Gray kept her calm face, even though I was breaking apart inside.
“Merryweather and Flora will find something, Rory. They will. We have to have faith in them. You, above all, should trust that they will not return until they find a cure for him. Look at all they did for you when you were trapped here.” Guilt slammed into me as I thought of Merryweather and how she did protect me when she took my memories away. Flora was always protective and never harsh in any way. Even when the other nurses were awful to me—like Betty or Raven—Flora, Merryweather and Fauna were kind and gentle. Always.
They were the three best fairies I had ever known, besides Gray, and here I was being ungrateful.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “You’re right. I’m just … I’m breaking inside, Gray.”
She smiled kindly and said, “And I break inside for you. But now is not the time to lose it. Now is the time to stand up and fight back, Rory. Do it for him. Because you know if he could he’d tell you to put yourself back together and defeat her.”
A smile formed on my wet lips. I wiped the tears away and picked up my bow.
I looked across the yard to where my arrow had flown. I was growing stronger as each day passed. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that I was going to kill Raven when I had the chance.
The Giveaway:
1 eBook copy gifted through Amazon for Kindle of Awaken
Scheduled during Teen Read Week! Check it out HERE!
Hyw yearns to join his father in serving the charismatic Llywelyn, Prince of Wales. If only Hyw dared tell anyone of his ability to scout through the eyes of a hawk, it might help secure his place in the royal guard. Cat, his sister, longs to inherit the magical ability that runs through her mother’s line. If only she could see her future, now that she is 13 and promised to a boy she barely remembers.
When a messenger summons the prince to a secret meeting, Cat and Hwy find themselves in the middle of a war that threatens to destroy all of Wales. Can they master their special abilities in time to save the royal family—and themselves?
Set among the actual events and personages of late 13th century Wales, Marie Powell has constructed a fantasy novel that recreates what life might have been like for two teenagers coming of age.
About the Author:
Marie Powell (www.mepowell.com) is the author of 30 published books, including the young adult historical fantasy Hawk (Five Rivers, 2015) and Hawk and Crown (Five Rivers, 2016). She holds a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degree in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia, and her award-winning short stories and poetry appear in such literary magazines as subTerrain, Room, and Transition. She lives in Saskatchewan,
and her writing workshops are popular across the province. Read more about Hawk and Welsh history on her blog at www.mepowell.com/blog.
Book Details Title: Dream Casters: Light Author: Adrienne Woods Series: The Dream Caster Series Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing Release Date: May 2015 ISBN: 978-0-9946641-2-9
Mr. Sandman, send me a dream, ta da da da…..Seventeen year old Chasity Blake knows the Sandman is just a silly children’s story parents tell their children to get them to sleep. At least she thought it was, until the day a mysterious, light golden sand appeared in her hands during a high school prank that went horribly wrong. A sand that has the power to send anyone it touches into a deep, sound sleep.
Fearing she had lost her mind, Chasity soon discovers the shocking truth of her heritage- she is a Dream Caster. Chasity was never supposed to be raised on the Domain, or what humans call Earth and she is forced to return to her true birth place, Revera – the world of Dreams.
However, in Revera there is no balance between good, the Light Casters, and darkness, the Shadow Casters, and Chasity is caught square in the middle. She soon learns that there is no place for anyone containing both the light and the darkness within them, and the shocking truth that if anyone in Revera ever discovered her shadow self, Chasity would be thrown into the Oblivion – the world of Nightmares.
Dreams are always more than they seem, and this time Chasity is going to discover just how different they can be.
About the Author
Adrienne Woods was born and raised in South Africa, where she still lives with her husband and two beautiful little girls. She always knew she was going to be a writer, but it only started to really happen about four years ago. In her free time―if she gets any because moms don’t really have free time―she loves to spend it with friends, whether it’s a girls night out, or just watching a movie. She’s a very chilled person. Her writing career started with Firebolt, book one in the Dragonian series. There will be four books in total, including a further two to three books, which will be stories that take place within the Dragonian series. Her other series, Dream Casters, will be released mid 2015. She also writes in different genres, and her woman’s fiction, The Pregnancy Diaries, will be published under a pseudonym. And then, she has a paranormal series by the name of the Aswang series, which will consist of about ten novels. And if that wasn’t enough, there is another series, Guardians of Monsters, which will be released in 2016.
Book info:
Christina Benjamin is an Award-Winning Author residing in Florida. She’s a proud book nerd, 100% Gryffindor, has entirely too many book boyfriends and loves coffee and tacos!
She loves to read and write across genres. Her best selling books are The Geneva Project series and The Practice Boyfriend. Check them out if you dare.
And follow her on Amazon.
