Cold Blood by Heather Hildenbrand Publisher: Accendo Press (November 22nd, 2011) Reading Level: Young Adult Paperback: 366 pages Source: Author (Thank You!) Series: Dirty Blood #2 Rating: 5 of 5 stars Wood Point Academy is not at all what I expected. For one thing, it looks like a cross between military school and Buckingham Palace. Everyone stares, the floors shine so bright you can see your reflection in them from a mile away, and no one smiles. Unless they're kicking your butt in the process.
At least I've got plenty to take my mind off the fact that my psycho cousin, Miles De'Luca, keeps calling and declaring his love and promising to come for me just as soon as he's destroyed anyone standing in our way. Wes isn't going to like that idea. So between Miles, Wood Point's evil welcoming committee, and the drill sergeant hottie trainer from hell, I just keep asking myself, how did I end up here? Review: I truly adore this series, and in my opinion, book 2 was even better than book 1. After the battle in Dirty Blood, Tara's mom and grandmother send her to Wood Point Academy. There, she will train and learn the history behind her hunter background. As soon as Tara arrives, she knows she will never be embraced by the people at the school. They know that she is a"Dirty Blood" and most of them want nothing to do with her.
Tara is then introduced to Alex who will be training her to fight. He isn't very fond of her either so she knows their battles will be just full of excitement. Training with a super hot guy? SCORE. Training with a super hot guy who doesn't like that you exist? Bummer. But just maybe Tara can show him that there is much more to her than what he first thinks.
Luckily, Tara isn't alone with her school-time isolation. Cambria and Logan quickly take her under their wing and help her survive. They were terrific friends and really accepting. Cambria really didn't care what anyone thought of her and she stayed by Tara's side even with Tara's enemy/roommate tried to make her life hell.
We don't get a chance to see Wes much in this one and I gotta say, I didn't really miss that. Team Alex! Although Tara tries to keep in touch with Wes, he just never seems to open up. I felt Alex was more genuine and honest.
I think one of the big reasons why I love this series is because Tara is an incredible heroine! She does not back down and even with faced with the toughest fighter at the school (Alex) she shows him exactly what she can do. And, the plot is so fascinating. I love the werewolf/hunter/mix dynamic and seeing what new information is found out as the characters go along. For Tara, the bad guy is still out there and his plans are shocking.
Heather Hildenbrand has created a series that never lacks in action, drama, or suspense. The characters are strong and realistic and the surprises just keep coming!
Recommended: For paranormal readers or anyone who enjoys a nice spin on werewolf tales. Also, people who are fans of a strong heroine. Dirty Blood is book 1 in the series. Cold blood is book 2.
It is now time to vote on the story entries! Thanks to everyone who entered! We really appreciate you all for sharing your stories with us! We do hope that everyone takes time out to read each story before voting for their favorites! You have until this Friday, the 22nd to vote. Voters:
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Round 2 will begin next Sunday, the 24th. It will end Friday, the 29th.
8 stories will continue onto Round 2!
The winners will be announced on Halloween!
For this contest we will be posting excerpts from each story in the order that they were received. If a story grabs your attention, click on the link below to read the rest. The link will take you to the blog post where the story can be found.
Story #1 — Found"Hello my love." Came a horribly familiar voice. I slowly turned around and there he was. My worst nightmare. The last time I saw him he was covered in my blood. My knees felt week and I didn't know if I had the strength to keep them study. He smiled that same dark smile that he had the day he tried to kill me. I thought I had escaped, I thought it was over. As he reached for my hand I knew it would be soon."How I have missed you." He said as our hands met. I felt a tingle run up my arm as he touched me. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, everything that I had worked for, to get past the memory of him was gone. All there was in the world was him and his hand upon mine. I couldn’t bring myself to run or to scream. I was lost in his murderous eyes. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #2 — Invisible Gotta find the exit. I just have to. I don't want to die I am too young. He told me that it wouldn't end like this that if I just give him what he needed then he would leave me and my family alone. I have been running for nearly three days and every time I think I am safe I see his shadow again. It all started back when I met the new kid in school. He was gorgeous nonetheless. Always seemed so perfect and mysterious. Apparently my judgment was correct except for the perfect part. As I grew closer to him the more I drew away from school, friends, and even worse my family. There seemed to be something pulling me deeper into his world, something that was turning me almost invisible to the world around me. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #3 — Sun and Moon The obsidian building towered high into the thunderous clouds, and was surrounded by a large iron-wrought fence. Erus, a grim and depressing boy for his age, stared at the bleak view before him: This was to be his new home: The Orphanage. Erus picked anxiously at his raggedy blue sweatshirt. His dark black hair obscured his vision, but gave him a sharper look. The pale skin of his face often made others think that he was dead, maybe a vampire. Maybe he was, no, he most definitely was. Due to the monumental hunger he felt building up inside him like carbon in a soda bottle. Every sense in his body became more acute, and human blood sang beneath luscious skin. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #4 — Ghost girl This was when I was around 17 years old. My parent move us in to our first house after living so long in an apartment. The house had 3 bedrooms and one bathroom. I was sharing a room with my sister, she was 16 year old. My two brother were sharing the room next to ours. my parents room was across the hallway. My room had the only window a/c unit. Our bedroom was the smallest bedroom and we only had a bunkbed an old tv, those old one that had the wooden box arround and with the big knobs. After a week I was watching tv late one night and the tv out of nowhere turn off. I thought the tv had a short and went to sleep. The next week weird things started to happen. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #5 — The Blood Spirit 1920 It was in the small town of Ashbury, New York that the rumor became. “Oh, Mary, I’ve missed you so much!” “Hahaha, well, I told you I’d return didn’t I, silly boy.” The girl’s sweet voice filled the room. It was like a drug to Everett and he wanted more. He had long awaited her return spending night after night staring longingly into the mirror on his dresser, until she had finally appeared that night. “I thought… maybe you had moved on.” Everett’s voice tried to cover his emotions at the thought of losing his beautiful Mary. Mary, the one that had saved him from all the darkness in his life and now he could barely stand to look her in the eyes because of her beauty. They had shown with understanding, but that was all a mask to help cover up the thing she really was. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #6 — The Current-Day 1900's Spiderman: A Little Boy's Tale A shaggy haired two year old boy with wide eyes watched the hall of his newly built home. Not only was his puppy barking at it but both pet cats were hissing as well. His mommy turned to the hall then back at the display in front of her calling their attention. The little boy dropped his multi-colored duplos and looked to his mommy, his eyes glistening with a look she never seen before, then pointed to the short hall between the living room and the playroom saying one word. “Man.”
The appearances of 'man' didn't stop that one quiet night. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #7 — Friendly Fire Fire. One word. One very short word. And yet, for Kaylee it was the most important word in the world. It was the last thing her mother ever said to her. As a child she had been hurt that her mother hadn’t spoken words of love and encouragement in the last moments of her life, it was only when she was older that she understood the true power behind that one word.
Fire. It brings warmth. It brings light. It brings destruction. And eventually it can bring life. But for Kaylee it brought wonder and mystery and a power so overwhelming that the mere sight of her would strike fear into complete strangers. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #8 — Stranger in the Night"We should dance," Brady smiled. Prom night. I heard a voice."Excuse me," someone said from behind.
"Sorry, sorry" Brady muttered.
Me, I couldn't speak. It was his eyes; they smoldered. I had never seen a guy with black eyes before. Taking one look at his face --pale, chiseled, eerily handsome-- I was totally, totally lost.
"Stephanie," he grinned. I parted my lips, but couldn't speak.
"Stephanie?" I couldn't hear Brady. I couldn't even tell he was still there. Everything was a big, buzzing blur; his hand at my waist, it wasn't even there. I swear it wasn't. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #9 — The Good Mother Our lake is haunted.
Long ago there was a Mother who fell asleep by the water. While she slept her child crawled into the water and was lost.
The Mother, unwilling to accept her child’s death, dove beneath the waves and disappeared.
Supposedly, she searches for him still. Children roaming near the lake on the night her child disappeared will disappear too. She waits to wrap them in her watery embrace. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #10 — Blackbird Sing They say the beautiful song of the blackbird makes it a symbol of temptations. For the most part, I have been a fairly responsible adult during the course of my life. I live in control and in restraint; I have no weakness.
When I approach the enormous tree with the bare and scraggly branches, I see it is full of blackbirds. I should think something is not right. But with a sensible head resting atop my shoulders, omens never affected me. I could shatter a thousand mirrors and still live in good health and in good luck.
My phone shrills in my pocket. I do not want to pick it up. Instead, I gaze at the still blackbirds, with their graceful feathers and beady eyes. Nothing is wrong. Just a tree full of silly birds. I see them all the time. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #11 — The Mattress Kasey never liked hospitals. They just made her feel uncomfortable. Everything smelled like hand soap or old people, and everything was so… sterile. She especially hated it at night when her room's light was turned off. The hallway would still be brightly lighted — yes, even in the middle of the night — but even the small sliver of light that she could see under her door wasn't comfort enough. Being in the dark scared her, and being in the dark alone was even more frightening.
She had had three concussions in the past spring from playing rugby — three too much. She had spent week after week in hospitals attempting to recover, missing school, missing her friends, missing life. She hardly knew what sunshine felt like. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #12 — Lifeless Love Her breath raced as she ran down the hill. Sweat glistened on her face in the light of the half-moon. Her pursuer was not far behind, his long arms flapping limply at his sides. She turned right and hid behind a trash can and prayed he would pass her by.
“Chloe,” He croaked. “Come out. You know I won’t hurt you. How could I hurt you? I love you.”
Silent tears slid down her face. How she wanted to believe those words. But she knew now that he was lost to her.
Footsteps were heard receding into the distance; he was gone, for now. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #13 — Whisper Damien was filled with dread as he crossed the threshold of Milton Manor. Fear emanated from his every pore, clouded his vision, and burned its way through his lungs with each breath.
Then the whispers began…
Get out! You don’t belong here. This is our home!
With each whisper more and more voices joined in, bringing the words to a crescendo, reverberating around Damien’s head and bombarding his mind. The voices began screaming at Damien, commanding him to leave.
Leave now or we’ll kill them all! Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #14 — Howl at the Moon The sharp ululation had my head snap back. Shivers shot up my spine, the harsh wind causing my cheeks to sting. They were coming for me. I tried to cover my scent with the dirt and foliage around me, but it didnt work. They had super noses, and hearing. I tripped over a root and landed on my knees and hands. I muffled a cry. I quickly got up, ignoring the globs of blood appearing on my knees. I could almost here them approaching me. My blood ran cold, my limbs grew stiff even as I stumbled my way through the forest. My breath thickened, blood tricked down my legs. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #15 — The Secret Ball Louisiana, 1862 I could hear the carriage roll on the damp stone path. The path where what had mattered most was silently taken from me. I saw men in white masks embellished with jewels and lined with intricate black lace. The men who took Dylan, my love. Who were they? Why didn’t I panic? “Olivia Preston,” I remembered hearing the husky voice say with invisible lips, “thank you. You’ve done well.” Unfortunately, it’s simple to know who I am. I’m the daughter of James Preston, the wealthiest man in New Orleans. Was Dylan taken because of this? Because of where I come from? Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #16 — Strange Things Are Happening Emily walked towards the sound of the music. Her friend, Mel, and she were on their way home from school when they first heard it, and they had followed it all the way until they came to the source: Shay Manor. Shay Manor had been abandoned for so long that no one could even remember when someone had lived in it last or why they left. The only people who went in the supposedly haunted mansion now were teenagers looking for a scare on the weekends. “Emily! What the—” Mel started, coming up behind Emily. “Shh!” Emily hissed. “Do you hear that?” Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
Story #17 — Under the Bed I folded my arms and did the infamous mom stare in front of my little sister. “Jessie, I thought you were old enough not to believe in this stuff anymore,” I said, shaking my head. “I am a big girl,” my five-year-old sister whined. “But this time it’s different, something is under my bed!” “Look it’s one thing that I missed the biggest Halloween party ever to take you trick or treating, but it’s not fair I have to do this.” For a moment, just from the pleading in her tiny blue eyes, I believed her. I shook it off and let out a deep sigh. “Fine, Kylie, I’ll go look. But just one time. Ryan is coming over in ten minutes and we’re watching a movie.” She stood at the bottom of the stairs, biting her thumbnail nervously as I entered her room. Want to read more? USE GOOGLE
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Rachel applied the last stroke of mascara and turned the power off on the stereo. The music that pumped from the speakers stopped and silence fell around her. This was the first time in her life she’d lived on her own without roommates and getting used to the solidarity was taking longer than she expected.
A loud bang sounded behind her and she jumped. Darkness filled the hallway behind her and she stared into the shadows. Chills ran down her spine as the hairs rose on the back of her neck, and she crept forward.
“Hello?” she asked, but naturally there was no answer. Her bare feet pressed into the carpet as she stepped closer to the edge of the hall. The silence was a weight bearing down around her and she jumped as something moved in the shadows. A dark blur slid from one room across to the other, and she shivered. Rachel swore the chill wasn’t just in her bones, the room was colder now.
As she came to the opening of the hallway she reached for the light switch but hesitated. The thought of dipping her hands into the shadows for even a moment had her on edge. Images of a rotting hand with sores and callouses pulling her into the darkness flashed through her mind and she pulled her hand back.
Cool air tingled along her neck like someone was blowing against her skin and Rachel flinched, quickly flicking the light switch up and turning around, but there was nothing there. She rubbed the side of her neck and found her skin cool to the touch. She shivered again and stared down the now well-lit hall.
This wasn’t the first time she’d had a strange feeling about this place, but the rent was cheap and cheap was what she could afford. Not having roommates was a little harder on her bank account. “This is ridiculous. Get yourself together,” Rachel said, storming down the hall and flicking on the lights to each room. With the exception of the bathroom and her bedroom, all the other rooms were empty. No furniture and definitely no corpses that roamed in the shadows.
She turned the lights off and went back to the kitchen, slipping on her high heeled shoes. A loud horn honked from the street outside and her pulse leapt again. A checkered yellow cab idled on the street, waiting to take her to the party.
Tucking a loose strand of hair that dangled around her face behind her ear, she adjusted her outfit in the mirror. After a quick once-over of her ensemble she gave a silent nod of approval. She took a few items out of her purse and transferred them into a small clutch, taking only what she needed for the night and snapped it shut. Smoky, her poised black cat leapt onto the table, rubbing against her arm and pawing at the clutch. A single white tuft of hair formed a triangular patch on her chest and she meowed in protest.
“I’ll be home soon, baby,” Rachel whispered, scratching Smoky just under her chin. The purring response was immediate.
The horn sounded again and Rachel sighed. “I’m coming!” she yelled, as though the driver could hear her scream from inside. “You be good.” She smiled and gave Smoky a long, smooth stroke along her back before moving towards the door.
As she walked past the mirror she’d just spent hours in front of something moved in the reflection. She took a few more steps and then stopped, debating whether or not to take a second look.
After getting herself worked up in the hallway she refused to be pushed around by her own imagination and she gave into her curiosity. Stepping back in front of the mirror she found a long couch and a single painting of the ocean looking back at her.
“I told you,” she said, looking herself in the eye.
She tore her gaze away as Smoky meowed again. The cat sat perfectly poised on the table, studying her face with vibrant green eyes. The horn honked again and Smokey released another meow. “I’ll be home later,” she said, trying not to sound annoyed and turned back towards the mirror.
The couch and painting were gone, blocked by a mass of decrepit faces and bodies that filled her living room. Solid white eyes stared back at her, while flaps of skin dangled from their faces. Green rot and blood-stains filled in the gashes along their skin, and they stood silent, staring into the mirror. Rachel screamed and ran into the kitchen. Her heels clacked twice along the tile before she slipped.
One shoe folded out sideways beneath her and her leg twisted hard and fast to the side. She lost her balance and pain split across her ankle. She fell to the ground and hit the kitchen table with her hands, pushing it a few inches in the opposite direction.
Adrenaline pulsed through her veins and her heart palpitated like it was going to be torn from her chest. A gut-wrenching pang twisted in her stomach and she turned onto her back, skittering backwards across the floor. But to her surprise, nobody was after her. In fact, her living room was empty.
Heavy pants slipped through her freshly painted red lips and her eyes panned the room. She could hear a pounding in her ears as her heartbeat raced. Smoky stood between her and the living room and hissed at the air. Goosebumps trickled down Rachel’s shoulders and she trembled.
She took a few deep breaths before recomposing herself. She slipped her shoe back on and climbed to her feet. Her ankle hurt, but not enough to cancel a night of fun with the girls. She’d been waiting far too long for this, plus, it was her favorite night of the year: Halloween. Nothing was keeping her down. Not tonight.
She cautiously approached the mirror and the goosebumps prickled up and down her arm with each step. She looked into the living room, then took another step forward and peeked into the mirror. A sign of relief filled her as the painting and couch were back in the reflection or a near-empty room.
She let out a deep breath. “What’s gotten into me?” She asked, looking down at Smoky. “I need this night out more than I thought.” She grabbed her clutch and disappeared out the door towards an impatient and aggravated cab driver.
After hours of dancing, drinking, and laughing with friends, Rachel returned home feeling renewed, exhausted, and more than a little off balance. She fiddled with her keys and stumbled into the doorway, kicking her shoes across the floor. Smoky meowed, awaiting her arrival on the kitchen table.
“Hey kitty,” she said, the words somewhat slurred from her mouth. She threw her clutch and keys on the table and ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. Opening the fridge she grabbed a cold bottle of water and flicked off the kitchen light. “I may have had one drink too many,” she said, pausing to stare blankly at the cat. After a moment she snapped out of her daze and smiled. “Bed time, Smoky, let’s go.”
Drinking half the water bottle in her first gulp, she screwed the cap on and placed it on the bedside table. She tore her clothes off piece by piece and left them strewn about the room. While pulling back the purple and red duvet on her bed, a strand of crispy hair fell from its place on her head and danced along her shoulder.
“Dammit. I can’t go to sleep with all this crap in my hair.” Rachel sighed and ran her hands through the sticky hair-sprayed locks.
The bathroom was already full of steam as she dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower. Hot water nipped at her skin while her body adjusted to the temperature, and all the warm feelings of her evening began to wash away. She tilted her head back and water splashed over her face and hair, breaking down the product she’d invested hours of time putting into it.
As the buzz of alcohol began to run down the drain, images of what she’d seen in the mirror flashed through her mind. Both of her eyelids shot open and tension crept into her shoulders. Hard streams of water beat against her skin as the fear returned and she felt something slide over her shoulders.
She paused, standing still in the water, telling herself it was all in her head. She tried to picture something else, remembering the tray of shots they’d had at the club. When that didn’t work she pictured the young kid who still appeared to be in his ‘awkward’ phase hitting on her. One cheesy pick-up line after another echoed through her head, but even that memory was overrun with anxiety when she realized the feeling wasn’t leaving.
The water seemed to tighten its hold, squeezing her skin. That gut-wrenching pain filled her stomach again and her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. This isn’t happening, she thought to herself. It can’t be. She slowly lifted her eyes and glanced down at her shoulder, but there was nothing there. The water continued to splash against her skin, and although she couldn’t see it, she could still feel something squeezing against her skin.
The feeling vanished as Rachel turned in the shower, and her fear faded. She was looking at a tile wall littered with drops of water that looked back at her — there was nothing in there with her. “I’m having serious issues tonight?” She shivered and let the water rush over her face, but even in the heat of the shower, the chill didn’t leave her bones. It ran down her arm and along the sides of her body, only to find its way back up to her neck.
She stayed in the water until after the hot had turned cold. She let the stream snap her back to reality and sober her up. When she finally summoned the courage to move, she leaned forward and turned off the water.
Pulling back the shower curtain in a rush, she stepped onto the fuzzy bathmat and turned on the ceiling fan. The steam drifted upwards and as the room cleared, she saw what looked like hand prints in the foggy mirror.
She tried to ignore them. It was nothing. She didn’t know what she’d seen earlier. Maybe it was just the hype from Halloween. She was excited, she’d had a few pre-party beverages and now, after more drinks than she could count, she was over-tired and intoxicated.
Living on her own had her imagination running wild and tonight, she was letting it play tricks on her. She’d lived here for four months and every once in a while she got these strange feelings. So far, she’d just chalked it up to the adjustment. No roommates, no boyfriend, just her and Smoky; the way she wanted it to be. It was a big change and all of this was just part of it. As she got used to being alone, it would fade. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
As she crawled into bed, the duvet felt cool against her skin. Rachel squirmed against the silky white sheets and let them wrap themselves around her.
“Come on, Smoky,” she called, but the cat didn’t come. Strange, she thought. Smoky is always waiting in bed for me. She waited a few moments and called out again, but still, nothing. “Suit yourself.”
Rachel turned in the bed, spreading out along the cool sheets and stirring as she tried to find the perfect position. She tried her left side, then her right, and finally her back, but she couldn’t get comfortable. It was like there was something bulging from her mattress that refused to allow her comfort.
Using her shoulders and feet, she lifted her body up and dropped it against the bed. Over and over again her body hit the mattress until she was certain she’d broken in her spot and found a way to get comfortable.
She pulled the blankets up to her chin, glanced at the clock, and closed her eyes. It was after three in the morning and the house was silent. She fought to keep her eyes closed, hoping she could bask in the quiet and fall asleep, but when the bed creaked, the stillness of the room became overwhelming. She waited to hear the footsteps of Smoky crunching across the duvet, but they never came.
The creak came again and the muscles in Rachel’s shoulders tensed. Deep breaths in and out were all that kept her from jumping out of bed. This is all in my head. I’m getting myself all worked up, and thinking about it is only amplifying everything. She flipped onto her back and repeated those thoughts again and again.
The bed squeaked and this time she felt something putting pressure on the far end of the mattress — more pressure than a cat could manage.
That’s it. I can’t do this. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t comply with the demand. Cold air brushed her feet as the blanket lifted slightly and her pulse became thick in her throat. She wanted to pull her feet back but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all.
Chills shuddered across her shoulders as something trickled across her ankle. With the panic that lunged in her chest came the pain of twisting it in the kitchen all over again. She gasped and tried to scream, but all that came out was air.
The blankets moved again and more cool air washed over her legs. She could feel the weight of something… someone, moving up the bed beneath the covers. The blankets shifted and moved and she felt fingers sliding up the outside of her ankle.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
The fingertips walked higher, moving along both sides of her legs.
This is just a dream. No, it’s a nightmare.
The fingers’ pressure increased as they scaled her body, digging into her flesh. Her heart flung from one side of her chest to the other, ready to burst at any moment. Sweat had gathered on her brow and she realized she was moving, but it wasn’t in the way she wanted. Her body trembled and shook violently as beads of salty sweat ran down her face.
On three, I’m going to wake up.
She winced in pain as the fingers turned into full-on grabs.
One.
Fingers nipped at her hips and tore themselves up her torso.
Two.
The duvet moved again and the cool air touched her skin as another set of hands joined the first. Three! She shouted in her head, but nothing happened.
The second set of hands squeezed against her calves and Rachel cried out silently, her voice ensnared in her throat.
Stop. Please stop.
The mattress shifted as something climbed higher up the bed.
Smoky! She screamed the name in her head. Smoky where are you?
The first set of hands pulled at her breasts and moved higher over her chest. She could feel the invisible intruder’s fingers reaching for her throat. Tears streamed down her face as her body convulsed. She was sobbing uncontrollably but there was still no sound escaping her lips. Cold, unseen fingers wrapped around her throat. She screamed silently for Smoky again. Please come. Please help me…
The hand began to squeeze and the air was slowly stolen from Rachel. A loud hiss came from the door way and the hand around her throat pulled away. The cold fingers slid down her body and across her stomach before they vanished. Another hiss came, this time it was louder, and the mattress moved as something heavy moved across it.
Smokey jumped onto the bed and the duvet crunched beneath her paws. It was too dark to see, but Rachel could feel a strange energy coming off the feline. She was so close and the cat gave off an aura of protection. The mattress shifted and something retreated as Smoky stalked across the bed until eventually, Rachel felt whatever it was slip off the edge.
“Oh god, thank you, Smoky!” she said, and the words managed to spill from her lips. She tore her body up from the mattress and covered her face, crying so hard it hurt.
Smoky meowed and crawled up the blankets, nuzzling her head against Rachel’s chest. “Thank you, baby, thank you,” she whispered, pulling Smoky close. Her limbs were still shaking and her heart hammered inside her chest, but as the cat began to purr, it pushed calmness inside her.
Rachel didn’t move from her bed for the rest of the night. She sat perfectly still, gripping Smoky against her body. She watched as the red digits on the clock changed every so often until sunshine crept through her blinds, breaking away the cold energy of the room. Only then did she have the nerve to pull the blankets back and move.
When she finally managed to coax herself out of bed, she found red scratches, swollen skin, and finger-shaped bruises that covered her from her neck to her feet. A chill had instilled itself inside her bones and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake it.
She called her friends later that day and tried to explain what had happened, but naturally, nobody believed her. They claimed she must have had too much to drink, or perhaps it was a nightmare. One of them even asked if she’d taken any drugs that night. Rachel wasn’t surprised by their reactions, but she knew it was none of those things. It was something in this house and if it wasn’t for Smoky, well, she didn’t like to think what might have happened if Smoky hadn’t been there. One thing was for certain, whether her friends believed her or not, she wasn’t staying here. The next day was the first of November and the perfect time to find a new place to live.
Shift by M.R. Merrick Published: February 1st, 2012 Reading Level: Young Adult Series: The Protector, #2 Devastated by a terrible loss, Chase is trying to balance the life he’s been left with, a family he’s still getting to know, and power he never thought he’d have. He doesn’t understand why the Goddess has named him the Protector and granted him two gifts: the Mark, a tattoo that now covers his back, and the ring. But between getting interrogated by the Circle and psychic attacks from Riley, the Mark is the least of his concern. There’s a demon inside Rayna that’s fighting to be released, and it’s not her inner witch. It’s something else—a monster threatening to tear her apart.
As Chase struggles to control his magic, his enemies are closing in. Everyone has staked a claim on his ring, and destroying it may be his only chance to stop Riley. But Chase must decide if stopping him is worth risking the lives of everyone he cares about, or if protecting the ring will be enough to save his world.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a n ebo ok of Exiled (book #1).
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is International and ends November 16th.
Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
The form must be filled out to enter.
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Amazon | Barnes & Noble Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here. Don't forget to check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post for today!
This year we have 23 authors that I'll be featuring over 7 days and each day you'll have a chance to enter to win! There's also a scavenger hunt going on, so be sure to check out The Crossroads Tour Post to see what questions will be asked, what blog you'll be able to find the answer on and enter to win! Today I am featuring Dorothy Dreyer, Sarah Bromley, and Ty Drago. Be sure to check out the rafflecopter giveaway, too!
1. Tell us what makes Zadie such a great character. What are a few things we need to know about her personality?
Zadie is no ordinary girl, as one might be able to gather from the book blurb. She has powers, though she doesn’t quite know how to control them. But I don’t think it’s her powers that make her so great; I think it’s the love she has of her family. She would go to any lengths to protect them, to save them, and to keep them alive. She has a big heart she just has to learn to trust it.
2. Share with us your favorite line from My Sister’s Reaper.
The leather cover was smooth under my fingertips, worn with age, but the photograph tucked along its binding grated against my heart like sandpaper.
1. A Murder of Magpies will be coming out next year. What can you tell us about the book?
I wrote the book in 2008 after a hiatus during which my first two children were born. Vayda and Ward were both so strong in my head, and I knew there was no putting off their story. I am firm believer that the things our parents do can trickle down and, in some cases, taint us. Curse us. Vayda and her twin, Jonah, experience a lot of that, and Ward does as well. Vayda and Jonah come from a background of murder and scandal and have been in hiding in Black Orchard for two years. Ward is the first person either of them has grown to trust, and they know it can go terribly wrong in a heartbeat. They fight against expectations placed on them, but as they do so, they all uncover secrets about their families, truths they weren’t prepared to face.
2. Can you share an excerpt from the story?
I can! My publisher, Month9Books, LLC, has been gracious in letting me give you the first sneak peek at the book with the entire first chapter of A MURDER OF MAGPIES! __________________
Chapter One
Vayda
I always swore Jonah would blow our cover, and today looked ideal for a catastrophe.
We’d seen disasters, somehow crawled out of the rubble and lived. They didn’t just happen, all explosive and bombastic at once so that we had no doubt everything had changed. No, a real disaster began with a slip-up, a spark of fire that rose in the air and snuffed out. But when the ash landed, it was still hot enough to burn, and from that ember, everything we knew went up in flames.
It had happened before. I had reason to fear it would happen again.
My fingers drummed on the time-scarred armrest on a chair in Monsignor Judd’s office. Someone etched a cross into the wood five, ten, maybe twenty years ago. In an ornate stained glass window, there was no comfort in the saint’s face, only my guilt for not knowing the saint’s name. Outside the office, Monsignor stood with his fingers steepled while the heating vent blew the draping of his cassock. His ear turned to the young nun whispering with him over the manila folder of Jonah’s permanent record. Curls snaked out from her nun’s habit, and her eyes slid to watch me. Dull, dark. Nearly dead.
My hands grew warmer. I forced my breathing to slow. Calm down, Vayda girl. Nothing to get too worked up over yet.
Not easy when I was literally a magnet for emotion.
Slouching low in his chair, Jonah fidgeted with a hole in his blue trousers. A bruise purpled his cheekbone. His heat, a mix of emotion and energy, radiated with an intensity that further prickled my hands until they were scorching. I needed to cool down, put everything on ice to stabilize both myself and Jonah. I exhaled in hopes for a cold breath. I wasn’t built to absorb my twin’s fury.
You outdid yourself this time. I pointed the thought to his mind like a laser. Do you honestly think fighting with Marty Pifkin is worth all this trouble?
He avoided eye contact, naturally. That didn’t mean he didn’t hear me. And he answered soon enough, silent to all but me. Dad’s already gonna read me the riot act. Don’t give me any grief, especially since I was defending you.
Defending me from Marty Pifkin of all people. Let it go. What’s done is done. I didn’t know whether to give my brother a good wallop upside the head like our mom would have or pray we’d skate on by. Keep at it, Jonah, and people will notice what you can do. Deliberately throwing a desk without using your hands isn’t exactly wisdom for the ages.
Why don’t you keep that in mind the next time you lose it and break all the light bulbs in the science lab? He swiped a rogue strand of long, dark hair from his face. You lack subtlety and finesse, Sis.
Subtlety. Finesse. Words sixteen-year-old boys knew oh-so-much about. I choked on a laugh and lowered my eyes to the natty, blue Chucks I paired with the Catholic school-issued plaid, wool skirt and tights. Even when I wasn’t in school, I wore long skirts most days. I could move my legs and didn’t feel so caged in.
Brushing away the glass dust on my skirt, I overlooked the blood drying on my hands and clasped them together. They were less dangerous that way.
The door to the office lobby opened. The new nun’s floor-length dress gave her the look of a black dandelion seed gliding into Monsignor’s office. He followed then finally my father walked in last, the scent of wood dust clinging to his clothes. Most parents visiting St. Anthony of Padua High School rolled in wearing suits or golf attire, and then there was Dad with his New Glarus brewery shirt and vanish-splattered jeans—evidence he’d been working on restorations when called to the school.
Even if the fight between my brother and Marty hadn’t already strained my mental barriers, I would’ve noticed the disappointment coming off Dad. He had so many of what he termed cardinal rules for Jonah and me, and right then, one whispered in my conscience: There’s a devil on every man’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Only he decides if he’ll throw salt at the devil or feed him his soul.
“What happened, Magpie?” Dad asked, a Georgia-born drawl buttering his voice, as he checked out the cuts on my hand.
“Broken glass,” I answered.
“You ought to be more mindful, don’t you think?”
His question had everything and nothing to do with breaking glass.
Monsignor cleared his throat. “Sorry to have you back in my office so soon, Mr. Silver.”
“Twice in one week is overkill.” Dad stood behind Jonah and me, a hand on each of our shoulders.
“I’ve spoken with our new staff psychologist, Sister Polly Tremblay.” Monsignor introduced the new nun. “She was hired this year after Dr. Fernandez took a position in Madison. Sister is a licensed practitioner, educator, and bride of Christ.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Is she now? That’s all very impressive, Sister. Do you go by Sister Polly or Sister Tremblay?”
The nun blinked twice, no emotion registering on her face. “Sister Tremblay. Polly is from my past life.”
Monsignor grabbed the manila folder from the nun’s hands and hurried through his words. His hurrying, seemingly to get us out of his office and be done with us, made blots of sweat rise along my widow’s peak. “Sister Tremblay has acquainted herself with Jonah’s file and feels he may benefit from some sessions with her. Mr. Silver, your family came to Wisconsin two years ago, but of the people I’ve spoken with, no one really knows you.”
“I see you’re a widower running an antiques business,” Sister Tremblay added.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Dad snapped.
“The adjustment period after moving, especially when grieving and moving, can be prolonged. In that regard, two years isn’t very long at all,” Sister Tremblay answered. “Teenagers tend to cope by acting out. And if you’re as busy as I suspect—”
“I’ve got time for my kids,” Dad argued. “Always.”
The heating vent blasted more hot air into the office. My brother beside me, silent, burned with frustration, and my shoulders tightened. I crackled my knuckles, all too aware of how the lights dimmed as I did so.
Monsignor let out a sigh. “Sister Tremblay is only suggesting that talking to someone away from family could be good for Jonah.”
There was no outside the family. There never was. Hard to make friends and get past the New Kid stigma when we were either cooped up at home or at Dad’s shop under his watchful eye. No wonder our classmates thought we were weird—we were.
The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened, and I shifted in my chair for a better view into the lobby where another boy waited to talk with Monsignor. His hair curling near his jaw was the color of liquid cinnamon dashed with espresso, and a wire umbilical cord tethered an iPod to his ears as he held an icepack to his bottom lip.
Jonah’s sort of friend, Ward.
He averted his eyes from mine.
My hands grew hot again, and the overhead lights flickered, this time drawing everyone’s eyes to the ceiling. Dad’s grip pumped my shoulder.
Jonah stretched his legs. “I’m not seeing no damn shrink. Marty Pifkin’s got everyone wrapped around his finger.”
“Here we go again,” I muttered. “Jonah, stop it.”
“That guy is a creeper, and—”
I looked to Dad for sympathy. “Marty asked to compare answers on our homework and Jonah lost it.”
“—he was bothering Vayda,” my brother talked over me. “Guys like that shouldn’t be talking to her. He’s gaje. I didn’t throw the first punch, didn’t ask for Ward’s help. I barely know the kid.”
Monsignor waited until Jonah and I both quieted down. “What’s gaje?”
Jonah gave Dad a pleading look, but Dad confessed, “It means outsider, though it seems we’re the outsiders here.”
Monsignor gave a satisfied nod. “Marty claims Jonah threw a desk. That’s not behavior that will go unpunished.”
“And the physics’ lab? Every light was broken.” Sister Tremblay crossed her arms.
I sank into my chair and hid behind my hair. Those dull eyes couldn’t be avoided. I wanted out of the office. Now.
The flickering of the overhead lights grew faster. I shuddered, not cold but burning up. The poster of a kitten clinging to a clothesline cheering “Hang in there!” obviously didn’t know how fragile my grip was when so many emotion flooded a room. Usually, I could keep it together with mental barriers to deflect the constant flow of others’ feelings, but so much tension …
“You’re seriously suggesting a couple of kids broke every light bulb just like that?” Dad’s voice rose. He gestured to the palsied lights above our heads. “Y’all would be better off hiring an electrician before the school burns down.”
The room skewed left, and my vision blurred and head dizzied. Too hot, cluttered. My hands—I shut my eyes.
Energy. Rising. Must release!
Crack! A fracture drove down the length of the fluorescent light above the desk. Sister Tremblay yelped and snatched Jonah’s folder to her chest.
“Hell of a power surge.” Jonah’s black eyes searched for a way into my mind. I flung up a barrier to keep him out. Not gonna let him in, not this time. He was worried, but nothing was wrong. Except that I felt like I could spew red, white, and blue.
“Vayda, go get some fresh air,” Dad ordered. “You look flushed.”
Monsignor dismissed me, and with the expected curtsey before hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, I cracked my knuckles one last time to diffuse the energy swelling in my hands. I stepped out of the office, out of the glow of the stained glass window, and paced near the chairs where Ward waited. Jonah started this whole mess. Marty had done nothing to me. This time. Marty never listened until Jonah made him last spring. Ever since then, Jonah had his eyes and his anger on Marty. Anything Jonah felt, I felt ten times worse. When he was happy, he was very happy, but when he was angry, he was furious.
Mom had been the same way.
“I promise you won’t go belly-up if you hold still.” Ward’s voice was deep, raw honey. His head rested against his chair, eyes shut, yet I knew he’d been watching me.
His left eye opened a crack, and I gave him a weak smile. My ears liked his voice.
Ward had been at our school only since Monday, and already he’d been cast into the same social boneyard where Jonah and I had roamed since we transferred in after Christmas break nearly two years ago. We’d tried blending with the nameless, faceless uniforms, but it wasn’t so simple. The other students never warmed to us, or we to them. We weren’t from here. We didn’t look or act like them. We were among the Avoided. But, as of yesterday, we had a shadow. A gaje shadow.
“How’s your hand?” Ward asked.
I eyed my brother and father talking to Monsignor. That Jonah hadn’t chased off Ward was a tacit tolerance of him. “A few cuts. I’ll live.” I twisted my black hair, which was long enough to skim my hips. “You hardly needed to play the white knight. Marty’s not much of a dragon, more like a salamander.”
“Maybe I like fighting salamanders.”
Chipped gray polish colored his fingernails. Artsy in an I-don’t-give-a-damn-I’ll-wear-it-if-it’s-clean way. If Monsignor noticed, that’d earn him a detention or two.
“Listen, gajo.” He didn’t deserve to be shoved to the outskirts all because of my cavalier brother. He needed to back off. While he still could. “Marty won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. Tangling with him will never be forgotten.”
His mouth twitched, neither a grin nor a frown. “I don’t scare easily.”
He slipped on his headphones and closed his eyes once more. Must be nice to be so untouched, unfazed. Must be peaceful.
“Hey,” I called. He lifted one side of his headphones. “What are you listening to?”
“Music.”
Smart ass.
Thud!
Ward’s eyes popped open and landed on the overturned chair in Monsignor’s office. A chair no one had been sitting in. Dad’s muffled voice came fast as he pulled Jonah by the arm. From the dark expression on his face, we were in for a major talking to.
“We need to leave. Now,” Dad said as he steered Jonah out of the office.
There would be no explanation to Ward of why we were leaving so fast. Dad whisked my brother and me out of Monsignor’s office, past the sanctuary where our footfalls echoed on wood floors polished by nuns until glistening. The school was a dour extension of a century-old Catholic parish. The walls in the language arts’ wing were painted rich blue, the Virgin’s color. Hung between classrooms were carvings from the Stations of the Cross, thick with dust except for the Christ’s eyes, which followed us and knew my family’s secrets and sins.
Outside was better. Riding in the car, the windows were lowered to allow in the fire-musk smell of mid-October leaves, but there was something else, an odor of buried things deep in the black earth. Dad steered into a parking lot by a grocery store. With the silence in the car, I couldn’t push back the memory of the last time we pulled over like this. Instead of a parking lot, it’d been off a highway in a forest in northern Georgia and, with the haze of morning fog guarding the Chevy we’d escaped in, Dad had vowed we were going straight to Wisconsin. There, we would start over.
Find someplace new. Claim different names.
Dad pushed his fingers through his black hair streaked with silver and set his green eyes, the same shade as mine, on my reflection in the rearview mirror. “This stops now. Your mama might’ve called what y’all do Mind Games.” The last two words were spoken slowly. “But I won’t play.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jonah and I answered.
“Mind Games, if you must work them, are private. Working them in public is how your mama found trouble.” He twisted his wedding band. “We can’t risk a repeat of Georgia.”
I jerked my head to look out the window. Black Orchard, Wisconsin. Such a pretty town despite its eerie name. Easter egg colored Victorian homes lined the streets, and people spoke with northern accents that sounded friendly no matter what was said. But pretty towns and nice people could turn on you.
Last time that happened, we escaped with nothing but our lives.
If it happened again, would we even have that?
1. What can you tell us about the third book in The Undertakers series?
SECRET OF THE CORPSE EATER raises the Undertakers’ adventures to a whole new level. The Corpses have launched a daring new scheme down in Washington D.C.: they’ve somehow replaced a sitting U.S. senator with one of their own, a trick that’s supposed to be impossible. But when Will and Sharyn go undercover as Senate Pages to foil the plot, they get even more than they bargained for. Because something haunts the hallowed halls of the U.S. Capitol Building. Something big and strong and impossibly fast. Something that seems to have a taste for Corpses!
But can the enemy of your enemy truly be your friend?
2. Can you tell us one word you’d use to describe Will and each of his friends?
I’ll try!
Will Ritter: Reckless Helene Boettcher: Courageous Dave “The Burgermeister” Burger: Loyal Tom Jefferson: Noble Sharyn Jefferson: Fearless
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Hey everyone. I have a big pile of books from this past month. These include review books, Christmas gifts and purchased books too so there is a lot! Thanks to all the wonderful publishers (and Lisa from A Life Bound By Books!) for sending these fantastic books!
Review The File by Angelyn Stark Extraordinary by Adam Selzer Finding Somewhere by Joseph Monninger A Sharp Time by Mary O'Connell Darkness Falls by Cate Tiernan Blood Sun by David Gilman Don't Expect Magic by Kathy McCullough Running the Rift by Naomi Benaron Bloodrose by Andrea Cremer Pretty Little Liars: Pretty Little Secrets by Sara Shepard Girl Meets Boy by Various Authors Hallowed by Cynthia Hand Fracture (ARC) by Megan Miranda The Way We Fall (ARC) by Megan Crewe Slide (ARC) by Jill Hathaway (2nd copy) Immortal Beloved (ARC) by Cate Tiernan Switched by Amanda Hocking The Ivy: Rivals (ARC) by Lauren Kanuz Glimmer (ARC) by Phoebe Kitanidis The Last Echo (ARC) by Kimberly Derting Forbidden by Syrie James and Ryan M. James (2nd copy) Partials (ARC) by Dan Wells (2nd copy) The Vampire Diaries: Stefan's Diaries #5: The Asylum by L.J. Smith Masque of the Red Death (ARC) by Bethany Griffin The Calling by Kelley Armstrong The Starboard Sea by Amber Dermont Unraveling (ARC) by Elizabeth Norris The Invisible Sun (ARC) by David Macinnis Gill Social Suicide (ARC) by Gemma Halliday Thumped (ARC) by Mean McCafferty Temptation (ARC) by Alisa Valdes Dark Eden 2: Eve of Destruction (ARC) by Patrick Carman The Selection (ARC) by Kiera Cass Everneath by Brodi Ashton Freshman Year and Other Unnatural Disasters (ARC) by Meredith Zeitlin The Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers by Lynn Weingarten Kiss Crush Collide by Christina Meredith Love & Leftovers by Sarah Tregay Cold Kiss by Amy Garvey
Purchased Crossed by Ally Condie Ruling Passion by Alyxandra Harvey Royally Crushed by Niki Burnham Kiss Me Kill Me by Lauren Henderson How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles How to Ruin a Summer Vacation by Simone Elkeles
Gifted Ashfall by Mike Mullin Eve by Anna Carey Crash Test Love (SIGNED) by Ted Michael Anew: The Archers of Avalon (SIGNED) by Chelsea Fine Unbreakable Love (SIGNED) by Angela Carling Dollhouse (SIGNED) by Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe Kardashian
I got Dollhouse from the BookPerk website. If you haven't signed up yet, DO IT! They have a ton of great offers and signed books come up all the time. It's a great site: ) This is the 2nd signed copy of a book I've purchased. The first was a copy of I Am Number Four signed by the MOVIE CAST!: )
What did you get in your mailbox this week?
*IMM is a weekly meme hosted by Kristi at The Story Siren and it was inspired by Alea at Pop Culture Junkie.
A few weeks months ago I asked for your opinion: what books would you recommend to my students. I had a fantastic response. If my stats for that post are any indication, this question has been asked many times before and people, especially teachers, are still looking for those great recommendations. Well, after asking my mom (a school librarian) and the librarian at my school, I'm finally making public what we have put together. I'm pretty sure everybody can find something on this list; I know that nonfiction is an area I need to work on as well and as I'm expecting one nonfiction read from my students by the end of the semester I've set the same standard for myself.
If you'd like to look at these lists in a Google Doc format: Recs from Readers and Recs from Teachers
Here are the recommendations from other readers: Title of Book Diary of Anne Frank In the Garden of Beasts Manhunt Farewell to Manzanar Graphic Novels: Maus and Persepolis Half Broke Horses I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings The Meaning of Matthew: My Son's Murder in Laramie, and a World Transformed What is the What I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings Freakonomics Under the Black Flag Cleopatra: A Life All But My Life Freedom Riders Einstein's Refrigerator Brothers in Arms The Devil In The White City Little Princes 360 Degrees Longitude Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
You Had Me at Woof Decoded Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us Night Eat, Pray, Love I am Scout: The Biography of Harper Lee I am Scout: The Biography of Harper Lee The Glass Castle The Children's Blizzard Rocket Boys Stitches: A Memoir
And here are the recommendations compiled by two fantastic school librarians:
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People often ask me why I choose to write horror/paranormal stories. And I usually give them a standard reply: I love a good scare—I’m a fan of mythology and folklore. Rarely do I get into the nitty-gritty details. Until now. When I was thirteen, an unlucky age for so many reasons, a visiting aunt gave me a spectacularly wrapped present. About two feet long and a foot wide. The rectangular box could have contained anything. My aunt was from away. Surely she’d have brought me something amazing! Looking back, I know she thought she was being generous, kind, aunt-like even. She was just trying to bring a smile to the face of a girl she barely knew, but was tied to by blood. That she didn’t know anything about me was painfully obvious as I unwrapped the present. A hush fell over the room when the gift was revealed. A beautiful, lifelike doll stood in the box encased behind a clear plastic lid. Her eyelids flickered as the box dipped in my trembling hands. I dropped her to the floor and her eyes closed as if she were asleep. Or dead. My aunt rushed forward to scoop the doll up. “Good God, be careful! She’s made of porcelain. An antique.” Covering over the awkward silence and my pronounced lack of appreciative gushing, my mother assured my aunt that I was overcome by the generosity of her gift. As she told the lie, my father, leaning in the kitchen doorway, a silent observer as always, gazed at me with concern. You see, I’d had a fear of dolls as far back as the family could remember, especially old dolls with aged, knowing faces and eyes that rolled back in their heads. Dolls so lifelike you could almost hear the faint gasps of their breathing. For the entire duration of my aunt’s visit I had to sleep with THE DOLL propped up on my dresser. My mother insisted, not wanting to offend her older sister (the one who was only visiting us because she had to come to town for a funeral and didn’t want to pay for a hotel). When mother insisted, there was no plea-bargaining. My father saved the day—marginally. “She should keep it in the box,” he announced. “We wouldn’t want it to get wrecked.” After the sisters left on a shopping expedition, he helped me seal the edges of the doll’s box with duct tape. She was locked inside. Or so I thought. I’ll never know exactly how the doll ended up on the floor at the foot of my bed the last night of my aunt’s visit. I had jerked awake at the sound of a crash, and there she was, illuminated by the three nightlights my father placed in each plug around my bedroom. The doll had burst through the confines of her box and lay sprawled on the cold hardwood floor. Amazingly, she was in one piece with her head turned in my direction, staring at me with a strange gleam in her eyes. A hungry, I’m-going-to-get-you gleam. Suffice to say everyone in the house charged into my bedroom, sure it was a burglar, an ax murderer, or a fire, at the very least. I had no control over the sounds of terror that ripped from my throat. I remember my mother apologizing to my shocked aunt, and guiding her back into the hall. I remember my father’s grim face as he stuffed the doll into a black garbage bag that magically appeared in his hands. I remember my aunt hugging my brother and sister—but not me—before she got in her car the next morning and drove away. But mostly I remember those eyes. Those ancient, evil, hungry eyes. And that, my friends, is why I write about things that go bump in the night—because certain events can’t be explained and those are the ones that haunt me. So much so that I write about them and struggle to fabricate my own explanations. In my writing, I share them freely. For what they’re worth.
Under My Skin by Judith Graves Publisher: Leap Books (March 27th, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Paperback: 328 pages Series: Skinned, book #1 All her parents wanted was for Eryn to live a normal life…
Redgrave had its share of monsters before Eryn moved to town. Mauled pets, missing children. The Delacroix family is taking the blame, but Eryn knows the truth. Something stalks the night. Wade, the police chief's son and Redgrave High's resident hottie, warns her the Delacroix are dangerous. But then so is Eryn--in fact, she's lethal.
But she can't help falling for one of the Delacroix boys, dark, brooding--human Alec. And then her world falls apart.
A normal life? Now that's the real fairytale.
Second Skin - book 2 in the Skinned series - will be out sometime in 2011.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a Under My Skin necklace and character card, a Class of 2k10 postcard, and some gothic"Death Mints".
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is INTERNATIONAL and ends October 29th.
Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
The form must be filled out to enter.
Find out more about Judith Graves Judith Graves / Goodreads / Twitter Purchase Under My Skin Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository Book Trailer
* Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post.
*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
