The Best Reader [Search results for The Voice] 

Today I'm featuring Janenifer Anne Davis and her book, The Voice. As some of you may have seen, I highlighted this book as one of my very few 5 star indie/small press books that I've read recently. This book was truly amazing and I look forward to reading more from Janenifer.

She was kind enough to offer up a few copies of the book for my readers! Be sure to sign up for a chance to win.

I'd also suggest you check out the except of chapter 1 below.

1.The story in THE VOICE is so unique. What was the initial inspiration for it and the character of Audrey?

In all honesty, the story hits quite close to home. Growing up, one of my best friends was sexually abused by her uncle. Nothing ever came of it—she was too afraid to say anything. Also, in high school, someone near and dear to me was date raped. She was also too afraid to say anything and somehow felt like she deserved it. When I taught high school, one of my students went to a party and got drunk. When she woke up, her pants were off and three boys were in the room. She came to me crying, having no idea if she’d had sex or not. We went and spoke to a guidance counselor, but again, nothing ever came of it because she was too afraid to name names and implicate anyone. After this incident, I was so mad that these girls couldn’t find their own inner voice and stand up for themselves. That they were too afraid of what others might think of them so they let these guys get away with it. I wanted to write a book that empowered girls to take a stand and speak out!

2. If you had to describe Caleb and Justin in one word each, what would it be?

Oooh, that’s a hard one! Caleb = adorable, Justin = quiet.

3. This story involves the very serious topic of kidnapping. Was it emotional for you to write the story?

It was! The story is told from the first person so I had to put myself in Audrey’s position in order to write it. I had to go to a very dark place, one I hope never to revisit. Originally, I had a reoccurring vision of a girl trapped in a dog crate in a cabin. Her guardian angel came to save her. However, when I started actually writing the book, this didn’t work. The idea of guardian angels had already been done and I wanted to do something different. So the story transformed into what it is today!

4. Can you tell us what you have coming up? And, if this story will be continued?

I left Audrey’s story open so if I ever want to write a sequel, I can. As of right now, I don’t plan to continue her story. It was difficult to write and now that I have three kids of my own, I’m not sure I can revisit the subject matter. I do, however, have a three book deal with a publisher. Here’s the official blurb I’m allowed to share: “Forthcoming title news! Coming 2014, Janenifer Anne Davis' follow up novel titled, THE KEY, in a three book deal, about the return of the sole surviving heir, mistakenly left alive after the entire royal family was massacred seventeen years ago, when the kingdom fell.” It’s really a medieval story with lots of romance and sword fights. I LOVE this story and can’t wait to share it with you!! I also have something else, but I can’t say anything about it right now (and it’s killing me to keep it quiet)!!

5. Would you like to share an excerpt, or a few favorite lines from the story?

Here’s the first chapter:

The Voice Jennifer Anne Davis Copyright 2013 Chap ter 1
Lying in the dark cabin, I tried not to think about the foul smell of body odor mixed with the stench of urine. I tried not to think about how hungry I was, or when I would eat again. About the plastic zip ties cutting into my wrists, or the spider crawling up my arm. I kept trying and failing. There was nothing to do but think.
Audrey? he spoke in my mind.
“Here,” I replied, still not understanding who or what the voicewas, hoping I wasn’t going crazy. Though, after what I had been through, crazy wasn’t too far off. Instead, I focused on what the voicewas saying. After weeks of being stuck here, he was the only thing keeping me grounded and giving me hope.
I need you to do something for me.
He sounded drained. “Are you okay?” I asked.
Scream.
“What?”
I need you to scream as loud as you can. Now, Audrey! Scream!
Bill had left the cabin only five minutes earlier, and I was afraid to make any noise. What if he was still outside and heard me? Would he come back in? I was so sore and bruised that I couldn’t handle anymore.
Scream! he urged.
Finally trusting the voice, I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and screamed as loud as I could. At first I sounded like a cat that was being strangled, the sound barely audible and grating on my ears. But I kept trying, and the noise transformed into something loud and fierce. Yell the word “help.”
“HELP!” My throat was raw, but that didn’t stop me. I took all of my hurt and anger, and used those emotions for the energy needed to sustain the scream.
Then a thumping came from the other room—maybe the front door. My body shuddered. Shimmying to the edge of the mattress, I tried to stand, but my legs gave out, and I fell to the rough, wooden floor, landing on my knees. With bound hands, I inched my way to the corner of the room, as far away from the door as possible.
Keep screaming!
I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear, but I did what the voicesaid and let out a shrill, loud cry for help. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing.
Wood shattered in the other room. I kept yelling, wishing that I had the power to destroy Bill with my scream.
The doorknob twisted. Please don’t hurt me again.. please don’t touch me.. no more, please. No more.
The door exploded open. Instead of Bill, there stood three hunters dressed in camouflage and bright orange vests. One held a shotgun, and another held an axe. I froze in horror. The men looked at one another and then back at me.
Audrey, tell them who you are. Your name.
“I’m Audrey Marshall. Please help me.”
“The kidnapped girl?” the older guy on the right asked. I nodded. “I’m calling 9-1-1. You’re going to be all right now,” he said reassuringly, his cell phone already at his ear.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the voice. But he didn’t respond.

The Voice by Janenifer Anne Davis
Published: Lands Atlantic (January 29th, 2013)
Reading Level: YA/NA
Paperback: 288 pages
Summary:
During her abduction and assault, Audrey begins to hear a voice. She hopes she's not going crazy, because after what she's experienced, that's the most logical explanation. However, as she begins to listen to the voice, Audrey realizes that someone may be telepathically trying to help her.

Unfortunately, rescue isn't all she needs. In order to leave behind the constant reminders, she flees to her Aunt Kate's house in San Diego, and assumes a new identity. It works until the eighteen-year-old twin boys who live next door threaten to break through the protective walls she's worked so hard to build.
Between Caleb going out of his way to befriend her and Justin avoiding her at all costs, Audrey doesn't know if normalcy will ever find her again. But one thing is certain: When a familiar danger resurfaces, it's the same voice that she turns to — a voice that is not only real, but a lot closer than she realizes.
Gripping and tastefully told, The Voice is a story of healing, trust, and courage.

Prize:
3 winners will receive an ebook copy of THE VOICE by Janenifer Anne Davis.

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 June 20th.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

Website | Goodreads | Twitter | Facebook

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

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:

• Lisa and I will both be posting the stories.

• The form is the same on both blogs so duplicates will be deleted.
• To vote, put your email address and the number of the story you like into the form.
• Email addresses are only used in order to check for duplicate votes.
• If you are participating in the comment contest, leave your email with the comment for it to be counted. Same as with the other Haunted Halloween posts.
• If you voted, say"I voted!" in the comment and you will get an extra entry into the comment contest.
• Vote for your favorite!

• Feel free to post about the voting starting. Please encourage people to vote for their favorite.
• You can cast a vote for your own story, but only once each round.

Rules:

• This is Round 1 of voting. It will end Friday, the 22nd.
• 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!

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

*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.

If you vote include"I VOTED" in your comment for an extra entry in the comment contest!

BRIDAL BONES

(a juvenile ghost story by Linda Joy Singleton )

THE SCAVENGER BRIDE

Magician's Muse by Linda Joy Singleton Publisher: Flux (October 1st, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Series: The Seer, book #6 The Final Book in Linda Joy Singleton's Popular Paranormal Series, The Seer

A whisper, too soft to swirl wispy candle smoke, carried across time, beyond life and death—and was heard."Our bargain is sealed. My secrets will be yours-when the girl dies."

In the thrilling climax to The Seer series, Sabine's psychic abilities, sleuthing skills, and courage are pushed to a dangerous edge as she deals with the mysterious disappearance of her ex-boyfriend Josh, a new threat against her boyfriend Dominic, evil magicians (both living and dead)—and a coldblooded murder.

- Thank you so much Linda for allowing me to share your short story on my blog.
To find out more about Linda Joy Singleton Linda Joy Singleton / Blog / Goodreads / Twitter

Purchase Magician's Muse Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository

*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.

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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Unseen
by M.R. Merrick

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).

• 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.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Website | Goodreads | Twitter

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!

Please read: The post you are about to read is 100 % **Role Play
All the characters represented here ( @The_Omega_ ) with the exception of Lisa and myself are **Role Players from a group on twitter. They have agreed to role play with us to help celebrate not only our Halloween Event, but also to help share our love for the Black Dagger Brotherhood series by author J.R. Ward, as these Role Players are also huge fans of J.R. Ward's works.
PLEASE BE AWARE THAT NO ONE with this site/blog, Lisa's site/blog nor the role-playing group — which you can find with the list of twitter accounts provided — is in any way, shape or form connected to or affiliated with J.R. Ward. No one present or represented here is J.R. Ward, nor is the role playing intended for any purpose other than the personal enjoyment of the Role Players involved.
My First Prank By @Vishous_BDB
In the Bloodletter’s camp there is a cave with ancient markings on the wall. Images of bison and horses and palm prints and single haunting eyes line the walls. The Bloodletter likes to keep the soldiers of the camp on edge so he convinced them the cave is haunted by the spirits of the animals. No one goes near the cave. While I was a pre-trans in camp a place I could be alone and have a few minutes of peace was highly coveted. I went to the cave to read the diary that was left behind by Darius. In camp, reading was considered a waste of time. I knew if the Bloodletter was aware of what I was doing he would destroy the book just to hurt me. The bastard got off on shit like that, especially when it came to me. During my transition the females told the Bloodletter they refused to feed me because they believe me to be cursed by the spirits. They thought my eye and my glowing hand were curses from the cave. No one wanted to be near me. My father made sure everyone knew of my curses by having warnings tattooed on my face, my hand, and my thigh. I left the camp that night, barely alive after being subjected to the most horrific forms of torture.
After many years I learned more about my curses and how to use them. Actually, I had mastered them. One night I decided to check in on dear old dad. So I went back to his camp. As I suspected, he was still there, still running camp as he always had. He continued to instill fear in the pre-trans by insisting the cave was haunted.
I decided to help him believe his own lie. I went into the cave and hid in a crevice known only to me. When I could sense him walking by on the way to the pit I lit up my hand creating a glow that bounced off the cave wall. It made the wall markings appear to dance in the light. I could hear his heart beat race with fear as he stopped and stared for a moment. It was a moment of victory for me unlike any other. To see that bastard scared speechless was indescribably satisfying. But I wanted to scare the shit out of him. So I lowered my voice as deep as it would go and threw in some bonus moaning noises. His heartbeat raced even faster.

“Bloodletter,” I called out in a ghostly voice “You have offended the Great Spirits. You must make amends.” I tried not to laugh as I heard him suck in a breath. He looked around seemingly unable to comprehend what was happening. He started to stutter unable to form a complete word. I started to bang around on the walls, the noises echoing in the cave. He finally sputtered out “What must I do?”
Since I knew he truly feared the spirits of the cave, I said “Within these walls you must stay. Until we release you”. I could smell his fear, hear his heart racing. His breathing was labored. “No. I can give you anything else. I will give you any of my men or women from the camp. Or I can kill any one of them as a sacrifice to you” he cried out.
My voice boomed,” How dare you try to bargain with me!” I could smell his fear increasing until it was so thick in the air you could cut through it. I inhaled the scent, letting it fill my nose. “You will stay in this cave or we will posses you and torment you in front of your men, making you beg us for mercy for all to see.” I let the light from my hand get brighter and brighter. The shapes on the walls continued to move and dance in the light. Finally, he gave in. As soon as he walked into the cave I stopped glowing, blanketing the cave in darkness. The Bloodletter’s fear was so great I could hear him whimper. “You must go deeper into the cave.” I whispered. As he went in deeper I continued to bang around, dematerializing and materializing all around him so he was surrounded by the movement but still unable to see the cause of it. He was so shaken by fear of the spirits that he just continued walking deeper into the cave with his eyes covered. I knew that he was afraid that if he looked upon the spirit he would be possessed by it.
Finally when I could hear him begin to cry, I said, ”You must stay within these walls until you are released. Do not try to escape or you will be punished. “Then I dematerialized out of there. I often wonder how long he stayed there. I smile every time I think of it. That was my first prank. I think it may be my best.

If you would like to follow along with the Role Players that @Vishous_BDB is part of, please USE GOOGLE to easily follow each character within the group. And trust me, you don't know what your missing! So hurry and follow today!

Find @Vishous_BDB Online:

Twitter | Facebook

@FritzDoggen_BDB Online: (updates, notes and information on the Twitter Role Playing Group)

Website | Twitter

Order All 8 books in the Black Dagger Brotherhood series and Preorder book 9 Online here:

Amazon | Borders | Barnes and Noble | The Book Depository

Reference:

**Role Play

–verb (used with object)
1. to assume the attitudes, actions, and discourse of (another), esp. in a make-believe situation in an effort to understand a differing point of view or social interaction: Management trainees were given a chance to role-play labor negotiators.
2. to experiment with or experience (a situation or viewpoint) by playing a role: trainees role-playing management positions.
–verb (used without object)
3. to engage in role-playing.

Thank you so much to @Vishous_BDB and all the other characters from the Black Dagger Brotherhood Twitter Role Play group for all the time and effort they have been putting in to help us celebrate not only Halloween and our event, but also our love for all that is the Brotherhood and J.R. Ward. * 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.

Pigman and the Bridge of Death

According to local lore, an old butcher once lived in the woods off Holland Road in Western New York, near the railroad tracks. He liked his privacy, and to frighten would-be tormentors, he cut off the heads of pigs and put them around his property on stakes — that's how he earned his nickname. Well, one night, a few boys decided to ignore the warning and give old Pigman a scare. Instead, the butcher caught them, decapitated them, and put their heads on stakes, jammed into the ground near the old covered bridge.

And Pigman was never seen again… at least, not while he was alive.

Don don don don… don!

Fast forward 60 years. I was 19 years old, and I just got my license. My first car was a 1985 Celica GT 5-speed with 130,000 miles on it, a rusted bumper, and a hole in the gas tank that prevented you from filing it more than 1/4 up. Not bad for $500, right? It took me a while to master the art of stick shift, but I didn't let a little bucking and stalling stop me from escaping my parents' house any chance I got. And rusty or not, that car could MOVE.

One summer night, my friends and I decided to investigate the notorious legend of Pigman for ourselves. We didn't have any high-tech ghost-hunting gear or infa-red goggles, but we did have that 1985 Celica GT, a full (well, as full as it could be with that hole) tank of gas, and the kind of courage you usually find in a group of bored suburban teens with lots of free time and some major Superman complexes.

The rules of Pigman Road, as it was then called, went something like this: You drive down Pigman Road, stop your car under the covered bridge, and turn off the engine. Then, in the pitch black night, you're supposed to call out the name"Pigman" three times, and try to start your car. If your car doesn't start, you die. It's that simple. Party time, right?!

(What can I say? We didn't have the Internet back then. We had to make our own fun.)

We all piled into a couple of cars and headed out toward the tracks. My best friend, her boyfriend, her brother, and I were in the Celica with me behind the wheel. Everyone else was ahead of us in the other cars. We all drove onto the middle of the dark bridge. Killed the engines and removed the keys. Sat in silence for a few minutes to amp up the dramatic tension. And then, the chanting began.

"Pigman," we called in one voice."Pigman. PIGMAN!"

The other two cars started up and took off. From behind the wheel of that old Celica, my whole body shook as I jammed the key back into the ignition. Pushed in the clutch. Turned the key, praying it would start, praying we'd survive this ridiculous rite. The car started, and the four of us let out a collective nervous giggle as we started to roll. And then, poof. The car bucked and stalled. I tried to start it again, but it wouldn't turn over.

"Go! Get the hell out of here!" My friend screamed in my ear. My hands were slippery and shaky. My legs didn't work. I couldn't get the car to start — I just couldn't do it. Four young people in the prime of our lives were all going to die at the hands of some age-old legendary psycho butcher ghost, and it was all my fault. Seconds-that-felt-like-hours later, my friend's boyfriend crawled over to the front seat and shoved me out of the way. He pushed in the clutch, started up the engine, and squealed out of there as fast as we could possibly go in the ol' rustbucket, which, as it turns out, was over 110 miles per hour (kids, do NOT try this at home). None of us could speak. We kept waiting for a train to hit us, the car to skid and careen down the embankment, or a half-man half-pig monster to appear in the back seat with a big meat cleaver, sharpened for the kill.

Minutes passed, the tires rolling down the old dark road, finally slowing to a safer speed. Certain we were out of immediate danger, we pulled over and met up with the rest of our friends at the other, non-Pigman end the railroad tracks. We tried to laugh with them at our own expense, but it's hard to laugh when you're not even sure your heart's still beating. Eventually, encouraged by the friendly taunts and the safety-in-numbers thing, we relaxed. It looked like we might just survive the night after all. Pigman? What a silly little game for silly little kids! Eat me, Pigman! Ha. Ha. Ha.

Ha!

That's when we saw the flashlights bouncing out of the woods. Faster. There were footsteps. Shouts.

"Don't move," a deep voice ordered. A tall man approached the tracks, bright white flashlight blinding us to his appearance."IDs. All of you. Get 'em out."

Another man joined him, bathing us in light. It was one of the few times in our short, trouble-making careers that we were thrilled to be harassed by cops. We tried to explain what the hell we were doing out on the railroad tracks on Pigman Road in the middle of the night, alternately screaming and laughing. We tried to tell them about the legendary butcher and the stalled car and how we almost died, just moments before. It didn't look like they were buying it. But we weren't drinking or anything, and fortunately they hadn't clocked us speeding out of there, so the cops just returned our IDs and shooed us away. I figured they were used to that sort of things — chasing away stupid kids who come to test the Pigman legend for themselves.

Later, I learned that Pigman Road was not only the supposed property of the murderous butcher, but the actual site of a heinous train wreck in the 1860s in which 50 people were burned alive in a flaming train car. Apparently, police monitor the area constantly, many claiming that supernatural activity is rampant under the old bridge. Some think it's the ghosts of the people who died in the train accident. Others — perhaps the officers that tracked us down — believe that the legend of Pigman is real.

Pigman or train passenger ghosts, we survived the night. And the one after that and the one after that. We went back to college, back to work. On to marriages and kids and jobs and real life. And soon the legend of Pigman faded into our collective memories of the best of times, the worst of times, the creepiest of times.

As for the old Celica GT? Well, Pigman's curse or not, that car finally did die a painful death a year later when my friend tried to race it up the side of a mountain to impress a girl.

And now I drive an automatic, just in case.: -)

Fixing Delilah by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (December 1st, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 320 pages Things in Delilah Hannaford's life have a tendency to fall apart.

She used to be a good student, but she can't seem to keep it together anymore. Her"boyfriend" isn't much of a boyfriend. And her mother refuses to discuss the fight that divided their family eight years ago. Falling apart, it seems, is a Hannaford tradition.

Over a summer of new friendships, unexpected romance, and moments that test the complex bonds between mothers and daughters, Delilah must face her family's painful past. Can even her most shattered relationships be pieced together again?

Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (June 1st, 2009) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 290 pages "Don't worry, Anna. I'll tell her, okay? Just let me think about the best way to do it."
"Okay."
"Promise me? Promise you won't say anything?"
"Don't worry." I laughed."It's our secret, right?"

According to her best friend Frankie, twenty days in Zanzibar Bay is the perfect opportunity to have a summer fling, and if they meet one boy every day, there's a pretty good chance Anna will find her first summer romance. Anna lightheartedly agrees to the game, but there's something she hasn't told Frankie---she's already had that kind of romance, and it was with Frankie's older brother, Matt, just before his tragic death one year ago.

Beautifully written and emotionally honest, this is a debut novel that explores what it truly means to love someone and what it means to grieve, and ultimately, how to make the most of every single moment this world has to offer.

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive a signed copy of Fixing Delilah OR Twenty Boy Summer. Winner picks!

• 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 US ONLY and ends November 13th.
• Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

- Thanks so much Sarah for the book donation and story! Find Sarah Ockler Sarah Ockler / Twitter / Blog / Goodreads

Pre-Order Fixing Delilah Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository

Purchase Twenty Boy Summer Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository

* 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.

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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"I found myself... having to take out one ear bud because it hurt to listen. Not a physical hurt, but an emotional and mental hurt." — Miss Remmers

Release Date: October 1999
Publisher: Puffin
Challenges: Audiobook Challenge, YA List Challenge, Off the Shelf, 100+ Reading Challenge

"When Melinda Sordino's friends discover she called the police to quiet a party, they ostracize her, turning her into an outcast — even among kids she barely knows. But even worse than the harsh conformity of high-school cliques is a secret that you have to hide."

"Speak" has been on my list of things I MUST read for about two years. I finally got around to listening to it.

You undoubtedly remember the discussion last year about "Speak" being a banned book. You know how supposedly powerful it is and how everyone loves it. Well, if I could say any ONE thing about this book that you may not have heard before it would be this: the audiobook's narrator is absolutely fantastic and listening to this novel may even be more powerful than reading it.

I'm not kidding, unlike "The Maze Runner" where the audiobook hindered my enjoyment of the book, this audiobook was amazing. The narrator was absolutely brilliant — so honest, innocent, sarcastic, and believable! I felt like I knew her! The narrator's voice with Halse Anderson's words put such emotion into me!

For instance, several times (not just once) I found myself walking the dog and listening and having to take out one ear bud (I know this sounds crazy) because it hurt to listen. Not a physical hurt, but an emotional and mental hurt. There was even a moment when I was walking and listening and it was rather late at night (around midnight) and at that point in the novel I was actually looking behind me to make sure no one was there! It's been weeks since I've finished this book and that suspicion is still there — the fear!

Besides a fantastic story that was so well written and articulated, this book (and more specifically this audiobook) is the perfect example of VOICE for students. My school district employs the 6+1 writing traits and one of the traits is VOICE. Voice is incredibly hard to teach because 1) it's hard to find and 2) it's hard to do! In the coming weeks as my students get comfortable with their routines and we begin discussing the 6+1 traits, I will be using "Speak" in the classroom to discuss the immense power of VOICE — something Laurie Halse Anderson seems to be an expert at.

-Visit Laurie around the web here: Website | Blog | Goodreads | Twitter
-BUY THE BOOK: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes and Noble | Nook

To the FTC, with love: Library Loan Audiobook

Banished to Boarding School

Experience the Heartbreak and Humor When the Academy Award® and Golden Globe® Winner Comes to Blu-ray Combo Pack and DVD March 13
During the film, we find out that Alex, the oldest King daughter, has been sent away to boarding school for acting out — but she sure isn't the first difficult child that has been banished to boarding school on film! This Top 10 list will illustrate some other films where boarding school plays a role in the plot, including Flirting, Rushmore and Dead Poet's Society.
Based on the best-selling novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings and set in Hawaii, THE DESCENDANTS is a sometimes humorous, sometimes tragic journey for Matt King (George Clooney) an indifferent husband and father of two girls, who is forced to re-examine his past and embrace his future when his wife suffers a boating accident off of Waikiki. The event leads to a rapprochement with his young daughters while Matt wrestles with a decision to sell the family’s land handed down from Hawaiian royalty and missionaries. if…

if… is a 1968 drama about a British boarding school that is known for its severe punishments and the mistreatment of younger students by the older students (the Whips). The film focuses on three “outcast” students who are punished particularly severely at the hands of the Whips, and their eventual plan to retaliate on their oppressors. The films ends in a bloody battle between the outcasts and the rest of the school. The film won the Palme d'Or at the 1969 Cannes Film Festival.
. Au Revoir Les Enfants
Au Revoir Les Enfants is a 1987 French film that is based on actual events experienced by writer/director Loius Malle. The film takes place at a French boarding school in 1943. The school’s headmaster has introduced three Jewish students who must hide their true identities in order to evade the Gestapo. The film follows the friendship of one of the Jewish students, Jean Bonnet and another student, Julien Quentin. Eventually, the three Jewish students and the headmaster are captured and taken to concentration camps.
Dead Poet’s Society

Dead Poet’s Society is a 1989 film set in a conservative prep school in Vermont in 1959. John Keating (Robin Williams) is the radical new English teacher at the uptight Welton Academy Prep School. Through his unorthodox teaching methods, like standing on desks and tearing pages out of books, Keating is able to help his students discover and explore their true passions in life, like writing and acting, instead of succumbing to the lives their parents have prescribed for them.
Flirting
Flirting is a 1991 Australian film set in two different boarding schools in 1965. The film stars Noah Taylor, Thandie Newton and Nicole Kidman as students attending boarding schools across the lake from each one another. Danny (Taylor) meets and falls in love with Thandiwe (Newton), a Ugandan-Kenyan-British girl. The couple is faced with racism and political turmoil, and must meet secretly in order to develop their relationship. Eventually, the couple is forced to separate, with letter writing as their only remaining connection.
School Ties

School Ties is a 1992 film starring Brendan Fraser, Matt Damon and Chris O’Donnell. Set in the 1950s, this film is the story of David Greene (Fraser), a Jewish student from Pittsburgh who is given a football scholarship to attend a prestigious prep school in New England. After it is revealed that he is Jewish, David is ostracized from his former friends and anti-Semitism begins to plague the school.
Scent of a Woman
Scent of a Woman is a 1992 drama starring Al Pacino and Chris O’Donnell. The film is about a preparatory student (Charlie Simms) who takes a job as an assistant to a cantankerous, blind retired Army officer (Frank Slade). Frank takes Charlie on an extravagant trip to New York City with the intention of committing suicide once the trip has concluded. Charlie convinces Frank not to kill himself, and Frank helps Charlie win a disciplinary hearing at his school. Al Pacino won the Academy Award for Best Actor for his performance.
Rushmore

1998’s Rushmore is the story of Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman), a precocious 15 year-old student at the prestigious Rushmore Academy. Max befriends Herman Blume (Bill Murray), a wealthy industrialist who has two children in school with Max. After Max’s unauthorized and failed attempt to construct an aquarium at the school, he is expelled and forced to attend public school. Following his expulsion, Max and Blume begin battling each other for the affections of first grade teacher Rosemary Cross.
The Emperor’s Club
2002’s The Emperor’s Club stars Kevin Kline, Emile Hirsch, Jesse Eisenberg and Paul Dano. The film focuses on the fictional men’s prep school, St. Benedict’s Academy, in Andover, MA in the mid 1970s. The film tells the story of a passionate Classic professor who encounters a difficult and corrupt student. The film picks up 25 years after the group’s graduation, and shows that the boys continue to learn lessons from their old teacher even into adulthood.
Les Choristes
Les Choristes is a 2004 French film that is set in a boarding school for troubled boys in 1949. The film focuses on a new teacher at the school who starts a choir, and helps the boys become happier, better behaved, and find hidden talents. The new teacher also helps expose the atrocities of the cruel headmaster, while nurturing Morhange, a young boy with an amazing voice and a true talent for music.
The Harry Potter Series

As much as we Muggles don’t want to admit it, Hogwarts is, at its core, a boarding school. The film adaptations of the wildly successful series of novels focuses on the titular boy wizard who travels to school to develop his wizarding skills. In the process, Harry and his friends embark on exciting adventures and face many obstacles and dangers, including some not-so-abnormal teen moments, such as asking a girl to a dance, and navigating a new (or in their case ever-changing) building on your first day of classes.
Fox Entertainment has offered up a Blu-ray/DVD copy of THE DESCENDANTS for one lucky winner!

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive a Blu-ray/DVD copy of THE DESCENDANTS.

• 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 US Only and ends March 26th.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

Thanks to Think Jam and Fox Entertainment for providing this giveaway.

It is now time for the 2nd round of voting! Here are the top 8 stories picked from round 1!

We are changing the voting for this round. We had an instance of false voting during the last round. Someone used a variety of email addresses, including ones from authors, to cast votes. We became suspicious and decided to verify these votes. We contacted the authors and they said that they did NOT vote, so that person has been disqualified.
We are truly saddened by this instance of cheating. Lisa and I worked really hard to gather the books and swag for these giveaways and we will not tolerate cheating. It is not fair to us or the people who worked hard on these stories and covers. They deserve a fair chance. That is why we changed the voting for this round.

Now, voting MUST come through comments. We will not accept anonymous comments.

* The stories are in the order that we received them.

Voters:
PLEASE ONLY CAST YOUR VOTE ONCE!

• For round 2, I will be posting the story vote, and Lisa will post the cover vote.
• To vote for the COVERS- USE GOOGLE
• To vote, put your email address and the number of the story you like into the comment.
  
• Email addresses may be used to verify votes, only if needed. Hopefully we will not need to for this round.
  
• If you are participating in the comment contest, say"I'M VOTING!" in the comment and you will get an extra entry into the comment contest.
• Vote for your favorite!

• Feel free to post about the voting starting. Please encourage people to vote for their favorite.
• You can cast a vote for your own cover, but only once each round.

Rules:

• This is Round 2 of voting. It will end Friday, the 29th.
• 4 stories will win prizes!
• The winners will be announced on Halloween!
• Votes from Round 1 have been deleted.

Story #1 — 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 #2 — 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 #3 — 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 #4 — 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 #5 — 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 #6 — 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 #7 — 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 #8 — 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

*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address and"I'M VOTING" with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
To vote, include the number of your favorite cover and email address in your comment!

To vote for the COVERS- USE GOOGLE

Please read: The post you are about to read is 100 % **Role Play
All the characters represented here ( @The_Omega_ ) with the exception of Lisa and myself are **Role Players from a group on twitter. They have agreed to role play with us to help celebrate not only our Halloween Event, but also to help share our love for the Black Dagger Brotherhood series by author J.R. Ward, as these Role Players are also huge fans of J.R. Ward's works.
PLEASE BE AWARE THAT NO ONE with this site/blog, Lisa's site/blog nor the role-playing group — which you can find with the list of twitter accounts provided — is in any way, shape or form connected to or affiliated with J.R. Ward. No one present or represented here is J.R. Ward, nor is the role playing intended for any purpose other than the personal enjoyment of the Role Players involved.

The following story contains some strong language and mature themes. The Favor by @The_Omega_
What is that spiteful b**** up to now?” I reached over to one of my pets, a strange mixed breed, part dragon, part cockatrice, all malevolence and anger. There are a total of six in existence. I bred them especially for aggression and protection, not that I really needed protecting or anything. But they come in handy when I need to intimidate my lessers. Or others. As I ran my arm over his bumpy scales, I thought back to the day the Scribe Virgin came to ask me a favor. It seems one of her precious warriors needed to be taught a lesson. He was a strong bastard and she had nothing with which she could impress upon him the lessons she felt he was in sore need of learning. I knew it was a sharp blow to her pride to have to come to me for anything. She had always been favored, in everything, and was loathe to have to ask me for help of any kind. In this it was no different. She entered my domain with a gust behind her, carrying that cursed scent from her Fade with her. “ Could I possibly borrow one of your dragons? I wish to curse one of my warriors, to teach him how to control himself and as I can think of nothing more out of control than your creatures, one of them would work nicely to punish him,” she asked without a hint of humility. She was asking me a favor and didn’t even have the decency to bow before me. I just looked at her, not saying a word. I could tell she was becoming impatient as she began to explain very quickly. “Rhage is impulsive and quick tempered. He’s also very strong and could take out many of your army before they even realize he’s there. It would be in your best interest for this warrior to be tamed.” I was hesitant to trust anything she said. I’m probably the only one who knows her truly. When our Father made us, it was assumed that she got the light while I got the darkness. We are supposedly two halves of a whole — she the positive and I the negative. Quite inaccurate. Our Father was mostly darkness and while it’s true all I got was that, it is also true that my dear sibling, while getting mostly goodness, also got a hefty dose of evil to go with it. She had a wicked mean streak that even her favorite monsters couldn’t escape. I would have said no out of hand, but I thought this would be an excellent way to dispatch of the Brotherhood immediately. I decided I would allow her to take the meanest, most out of control dragon I had, fully expecting that it would eat every vampire in the Brotherhood and make the rest of my job easy. There was no way, I thought, the Brother could possibly wrangle this monster.

“ You may have my favorite pet, but I have some conditions that must be met,” I said to her after a very long silence. “This isn’t something I do without great trepidation, knowing how horrid you are.” She waved her hand, as if to dismiss my concerns about her motives. She was always so dismissive of me and it drove me insane. “ No, sister mine, I will not be brushed off,” I growled in an ominous tone only I can pull off. “If you won’t agree to my demands, you shall not be allowed the use of my pet.” As I began to outline my requirements, a small smile played on her face. No one could tell me that the Scribe Virgin wasn’t sadistic. She was in absolute agreement that she borrow the most aggressive dragon, the one who would take the most work to control. She was happy to curse her warrior for 200 years, which I demanded to ensure the beast would have ample time to do its job. The only stipulation she balked at was my presence at the insertion. She didn’t want me there and I couldn’t understand why. “ I can’t be seen with you,” she said, aghast at the thought. “You can’t come to my sanctuary. You can’t be anywhere near me in any place where people might see us.” I put aside the insult. She had long since ceased to hurt my feelings with her obvious disgust at my very existence. “ Sorry, no deal. If I can’t be there to witness my pet, my baby, being implanted in that disgusting brute of yours, then you can’t have him,” I said as I turned away, fully prepared to send her away empty handed. I knew that would get her. One thing my darling sister couldn’t stand was being denied a chance to hurt another soul, even if was one that she had created. She liked to hide in her white world, where everything looked pristine and pure. However, anyone who looked closely at her behaviors, the things she did, the things she required before being willing to grant any favor, they would have seen the cruelty in her acts. “ I will agree to whatever you ask, brother,” she practically spat the word at me. “As you have asked a price for this, you must make sure the monster you give me will be the most difficult trial a warrior could possibly have to endure. If you don’t, I will find a way to make up the difference, and that will be most unpleasant for you. Of that you can be sure. Oh, and I shall have to hide you with a mhis. I wasn’t being facetious when I said I couldn’t be seen with you.” So the deal was struck. Within the blink of an eye, we were in front of the warrior, who had his head bent awaiting his punishment. I noticed the dead owl lying by the tree and I knew this vampire was in for more pain and suffering than he could possibly survive. My sister loved her birds and there was no way she was going to let this pass without extracting her pound of flesh. The Brother was larger than a typical vampire, but he was nowhere near big enough to contain my beast without a great struggle, and getting him into the vampire wasn’t going to be anything short of torturous. He was shaking a bit, perhaps in fear. Or maybe it was remorse, as he did seem to genuinely feel bad for whatever act had ended in the death of the owl. If he was smart, he would have been terrified. Whatever he felt, he kept his head bowed in shame and awaited his punishment with bravery. My sister, in her flowing black robe, was standing in front of the male. She reached down and grabbed him by his long, blond hair, yanking his head back until it looked like it was going to wrench from his neck. Looking into his face, she roared at him, “You have taken one of my most precious possessions.” The male just gaped at her, his eyes wide with surprise at her indignation. Tears were rolling down his face now as he stammered out a weak apology. His whole body was wracked with sobs. He blubbered about how he didn’t mean to do harm, how he hadn’t thought of the repercussions of giving his weapon to someone untrained. The words were coming out of his mouth so fast I had to struggle to understand what he was saying. I guess the male wasn’t stupid after all. He was petrified. From out of her robe, the Scribe Virgin pulled a large dagger. It was bone handled and looked like something with which a human would disembowel large game. Still looking directly into the vampire’s eyes, she took the knife and stabbed him in the throat. It made a sound of a stone dropping into wet cement, a slurping noise that would have caused a mortal to vomit. The male’s eyes did the impossible. They became even wider than they had been, taking up so much of his face that it appeared eyes were all he had.
Pulling slowly, she dragged the blade down through his neck, his chest. The sickening sound of his sternum cracking was loud enough to startle the birds still left in the trees in this very twisted sanctuary. The strength she wielded to break through his rib bones one by one was impressive. My sister was watching the line of damage as she created it, her gaze not wavering from her bloody task for a moment. She didn’t stop until she had cut him all the way to his pubic bone. As intestines and entrails spilled out of the gaping hole my sister had gouged in this pathetic creature, she looked as if she was in ecstasy. Her head was tilted to the sky, the look on her face one of rapture. My sister had lost her mind in that moment. I was sure of it. The male looked as if he was screaming, though no sound was coming out. His eyes were wide but not seeing. His face was contorted in pain that most would be unable to live through, draining of color as the blood poured from the wound in his torso. There was so much blood, running in rivers down the hill, into the fountain, turning the water a deep hue of red that was terribly out of place in this sea of white. The vampire’s essence was leaving quickly as my sister was lost in her own private rampage. She actually seemed unaware of the harm she had done. As the warrior seemed to finally grasp the severity of the situation he was in, he resigned himself to the fate that would be conferred upon him. Any fight he may have had inside his large body left, just as the vital fluid was doing. Snapping out of whatever twisted reverie she was lost in, the Scribe Virgin captured my dragon by his barbed tail and set about the onerous task of forcing a very round peg into a very square and much smaller hole. Inch by inch, she pushed and shoved that 12 foot dragon into the opening she had created when she eviscerated the vampire. The sound of bones crunching was almost more than I could bear. Almost. The warrior’s face was a study in tortured agony. Sweat was pouring from his brow. His mouth was agape in a silent wail. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and still my sister continued her almost methodical invasion of the body she had laid open. When the dragon was finally well seated, crammed really, in the small space, she held her hand out, a light emanating from it, and she sealed the wound she had earlier created. She unceremoniously dropped her warrior, using that dangerous hand to clean up the mess she had made. The vampire curled into a ball then very violently splayed his body out, knowing that whatever was inside was too large for his shell to hold. Finally he found his voice and the silent screams became deafening shrieks and had my sister not covered her heinous act with a mhis that not only hid me from sight, but this entire gruesome scene, all of her innocent Chosen would have fled her presence in absolute terror. But the Scribe Virgin was nothing if not smart. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her madness. With another wave of her hand, she wiped the memory of what she had done from her creature’s mind and made sure the dragon was well ensconced inside his body, making them one. It was almost as if the male came awake, he startled and awareness returned to him. “ You will carry with you a curse, for two hundred years, to remind you of what you have done here. No more will you be able to think only of yourself, acting impulsively as only a young child should be wont to do,” she whispered into his face, so close to him it made even me shudder. “And you will be reminded every time you get even slightly out of control, because you will be visited by a beast so savage even those you love won’t be safe.” I left her garden impressed, and a little hopeful that perhaps she and I had come to some sort of understanding. Perhaps we would be able to work together in the future, not always be at odds. She had, after all, just brutally attacked the warrior race she claimed to love so much. Of course that isn’t what happened. Instead of being able to break free of its warrior prison and devour the Brotherhood, my sister enchanted the beast, protecting her vermin, and instead my dragon chose to eat my lessers. In the 99 or so years he’d been inside of that Brother, he hadn’t eaten a single one of the noxious rodents he should have preferred. That certainly should be a hint as to how slimy those freaks are, when even a dragon won’t eat one. My sister, the malicious Scribe Virgin, irritates me to no end. My life's mission has been to eradicate the disgusting species she created and she is seriously screwing that up. Everything she did is in direct opposition to me. Every single thing. And it is beginning to piss me off. She really is a spiteful b****.

If you would like to follow along with the Role Players that @The_Omega_ is part of, please USE GOOGLE to easily follow each character within the group. And trust me, you don't know what your missing! So hurry and follow today!

Find @The_Omega_ Online:

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@FritzDoggen_BDB Online: (updates, notes and information on the Twitter Role Playing Group)

Website | Twitter

Order All 8 books in the Black Dagger Brotherhood series and Preorder book 9 Online here:

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Reference:

**Role Play

–verb (used with object)
1. to assume the attitudes, actions, and discourse of (another), esp. in a make-believe situation in an effort to understand a differing point of view or social interaction: Management trainees were given a chance to role-play labor negotiators.
2. to experiment with or experience (a situation or viewpoint) by playing a role: trainees role-playing management positions.
–verb (used without object)
3. to engage in role-playing.

Thank you so much to @The_Omega_ and all the other characters from the Black Dagger Brotherhood Twitter Role Play group for all the time and effort they have been putting in to help us celebrate not only Halloween and our event, but also our love for all that is the Brotherhood and J.R. Ward. * Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post with Sara Bennett Wealer and a giveaway for a signed copy of Rival.

*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.

"My students who pick up "The Way of the Warrior" will jump into 'The Way of the Sword'" — Miss Remmers

From Amazon.com...

"After a vicious ninja attack left him orphaned and stranded in Japan, Jack Fletcher managed to complete his first year of samurai school. Still, his troubles are far from over. The prejudice of his Japanese classmates has gained him dangerous enemies within his school, and Dragon Eye – the ninja who killed his father – is still after him. Jack’s only hope of defeating them lies in surviving the Circle of Three: an ancient ritual that tests a samurai’s courage, skill, and spirit to the limit.

For most, gaining entry into the Circle means honor and glory, but for Jack it’s a matter of life or death. The winner will be trained in the Two Heavens—the formidable sword technique of the great samurai, Masamoto. Learning this secret is the only hope Jack has of protecting his father’s rutter — the invaluable navigation guide of the world’s uncharted oceans — from Dragon Eye.

Forced into a deadly battle, Jack’s going to have to master the Way of the Sword. And his time is running out."

My Review of Young Samurai: The Way of the Warrior.

If you remember, I struggled with getting into "The Way of the Warrior" but once I opened it I couldn't put it down. I had the similar problem with this novel — I just couldn't get myself to open the book for the longest time. I'm not sure why — I like this cover much more than the first novel. It wasn't the premise; I adored "The Way of the Warrior." And once I did resolve myself to sitting down and reading it (primarily due to the Summer Break Reading Challenge's third activity) I still had a hard time getting into this book.

I'm not sure why I didn't like this book as much as I adored "The Way of the Warrior." The characters were still strong, likable, and believable. The plot was fast-paced, intriguing, and captivating. And as I mentioned previously, this cover will definitely grab my boy students' attention.

One thing that really struck me was my attachment to Jack, the protagonist. In the beginning when all he can think of is his homeland and his baby sister my heart yearned for him to return home as quickly as possible. And in the end (no spoilers), my heart broke for him and this unfortunate ending. One of the reasons I probably didn't take to this novel as well as the first is because of the cliff-hanger ending; I'm not a big fan of ending a book with conflict. But I guess, now that I think about it, it was a very powerful ending.

One thing I absolutely love about these books are the concepts of culture and family. Look for an expanded post later this week.

While I can't place why I didn't take to this book like I did the first, I am confident that my students who pick up "The Way of the Warrior" will jump into "The Way of the Sword" and "The Way of the Dragon" (to be released in the near future). I, too, will be picking up "The Way of the Dragon." While this is a definitely a different review than "The Way of the Warrior" — I need to find out what happens to Jack and his friends and will continue reading this series through the end.

Originality: 10/10
Ending: 7/10
Characters: 8/10
Plot: 8/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 4/10
Theme: 10/10
Imagery: 8/10
Setting: 5/5
Voice: 5/5
Style: 5/5
Tone: 5/5
Cover: 7/10
Overall: 82/100 B

Favorite Quotes:
"Understand that those who successfully complete the Spirit challenge are not free of fear, but simply no longer afraid to fear" (362).

To the FTC, with love: Review Copy

"This is the perfect novel for a reader who is looking for a vampire story with depth, with no right or wrong answer, and with something a little more mature than the popular Meyer-esque characters and plot." — Miss Remmers

From Barnes and Noble:

"From the shadowy banks of the river Thames to the wild and windswept Yorkshire coast, Dracula’s eternal muse, Mina Murray, vividly recounts the intimate details of what really transpired between her and the Count—the joys and terrors of a passionate affair that has linked them through the centuries, and her rebellion against her own frightening preternatural powers.

Mina’s version of this gothic vampire tale is a visceral journey into Victorian England’s dimly lit bedrooms, mist-filled cemeteries, and asylum chambers, revealing the dark secrets and mysteries locked within. Time falls away as she is swept into a mythical journey far beyond mortal comprehension, where she must finally make the decision she has been avoiding for almost a millennium.

Bram Stoker’s classic novel offered one side of the story, in which Mina had no past and bore no responsibility for the unfolding events. Now, for the first time, the truth of Mina’s personal voyage, and of vampirism itself, is revealed. What this flesh and blood woman has to say is more sensual, more devious, and more enthralling than the Victorians could have expressed or perhaps even have imagined."

Why I read this: After seeing a review of this book on a blog (which of course I can't remember), I commented that the book looked fantastic but after going to my local Barnes and Noble and seeing the $25 price tag, I would have to wait for the paperback edition. Hours later the author, Karen Essex, emailed me and offered to send me a copy. I happily (and thankfully) accepted.

Plot: "Dracula in Love" is the story of "Dracula" from Mina's perspective. I really appreciated the way the plot was laid out. Firstly, the narration is absolutely fantastic; Mina brings you in before the first chapter in a prologue. Various references to the man who originally told the story (Brom Stoker) intrigued my interests and added further depth to the story. I haven't read "Dracula" (yet), but I was still able to make connections with the infamous plot line of the original story and follow along. The plot had a very significant supernatural tone to it, which I think fits the time period well. The very small subplot in regards to women's rights and the unsureness of the supernatural helped me to get a feel for the time period. The added supernatural and "eternal" elements to the story really kept my interest, but there did come a point at the end of the novel where I became overwhelmed with all of the supernatural elements.

Characters: While there were a few characters that I had a hard time visualizing, for the most part these characters became very real to me. The characters are written so well that I didn't see the several character "surprises" that Essex had in store. I was genuinely surprised in regards to how certain characters turned out again and again. The Count's love for Mina was so well written and described, you couldn't help pity him. In the beginning Mina was such a likable character who was easy to relate to; in the end, however, she was barely recognizable at the end. While I understand why this is important to the plot, I would have preferred a more reasonable and realistic change to her character.

Cover: This cover is gorgeous! Definitely "grab" worthy.

Random Thoughts: I should mention that this is not like other contemporary vampiric novels; Essex never really says that Dracula is a vampire, it's only subtly implied. This is the primary reason I can't really see any of my freshman picking up this book solely based on the "vampire story." This fact, however, did not bother me. I think adult readers will prefer that there is some sort of thought required in regards to Dracula's existence, rather than being told "Dracula is a vampire, an immortal, who sucks blood from the neck of his victims." Essex's Dracula is full of much more depth than that.

Final Thoughts: "Dracula in Love" is a fantastic love story for anyone who is love with the idea of vampires; having read "Dracula" isn't a requirement to fall in love with the characters Dracula and Mina. Actually, since having finished "Dracula in Love" on Saturday, I am now listening to Stoker's "Dracula." "Dracula in Love" is the perfect novel for a reader who is looking for a vampire story with depth, with no right or wrong answer, and with something a little more mature than the popular Meyer-esque characters and plot.

Yes, I went there.:)

Originality: 10/10
Ending: 9/10
Characters: 9/10
Plot: 9/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 9/10
Theme: 10/10
Imagery: 10/10
Setting: 5/5
Voice: 5/5
Style: 5/5
Tone: 5/5
Cover: 10/10
Overall: 96/100 A

To the FTC, with love: Received from Author

"I recommend this novel to any reader with the patience to wait for a fantastic story with a great twist on a "nowadays" common supernatural creature." — Miss Remmers

From Amazon.com...

"Grace Divine, daughter of the local pastor, always knew something terrible happened the night Daniel Kalbi disappeared--the night she found her brother Jude collapsed on the porch, covered in his own blood--but she has no idea what a truly monstrous secret that night held.

The memories her family has tried to bury resurface when Daniel returns, three years later, and enrolls in Grace and Jude's high school. Despite promising Jude she'll stay away, Grace cannot deny her attraction to Daniel's shocking artistic abilities, his way of getting her to look at the world from new angles, and the strange, hungry glint in his eyes.

The closer Grace gets to Daniel, the more she jeopardizes her life, as her actions stir resentment in Jude and drive him to embrace the ancient evil Daniel unleashed that horrific night. Grace must discover the truth behind the boy's dark secret... and the cure that can save the ones she loves. But she may have to lay down the ultimate sacrifice to do it--her soul."

Why I read this: The cover is stunning and the author was amazing! She even signed this book to "The BVHS 9th Graders!"

Plot: In the beginning the plot was very slow, so much so that I just couldn't get into it. Weeks went by without me even opening the book. Finally, today, I decided I just had to finish. I had heard wonderful things about this book and I HAD to know what it was about. From the synopsis above I knew there was something supernatural about one of the characters, but it took until about page 200 for this supernatural aspect to really grab me; after that I couldn't put this book down.

Despain's different take on this supernatural creature was very captivating (once it got to the supernatural aspect). I have never read such a take on this creature before — it was extremely refreshing and unique.

Characters/Tone: I had to group characters and tone together this time because it seemed they were so connected. The characters of this novel, specifically the Divines, really got under my skin. Immediately after discovering that Divine was the last name of the family, the father's profession as a pastor, and the protagonist's name Grace, I detected a seriously pious tone. The tone of the novel and the actions/habits of this family seemed to be so "holier-than-thou" that it really turned me off from the novel. I felt almost suffocated with all the reminders of religion, holiness, and the "perfect" family.

Towards, once again, page 200 I did recognize the connection between the tone and characters to the plot but by then I had struggled through it so much that the extreme amount of piety had become only a sliver under my skin rather than a gaping wound in my flesh.

That said, I did really love the Heaven, Hell, Angel triangle and I see why this sort of tone and characters were necessary.

Cover: This cover is absolutely GORGEOUS! It's what really drove me to pick up this novel — before I had even read the premise!

Random Thoughts: The end of this novel was fantastically fast-paced and captivating, I couldn't put it down; I just wish the first 180 pages were also like this. I have put this book on my classroom shelves and I have no doubt many girls will pick it up due to the stunning cover, but I'm not sure I can expect them to wait that long for it to pick up speed.

Final Thoughts: I'm glad I continued reading because it was worth it in the end. The reviews I've read have all been stellar and I wanted to know why; I get it now, but I'm still disappointed. Maybe it is the tone or the piety that still irks me, I'm not sure. But, like I said, I am happy I'm finished and I recommend this novel to any reader with the patience to wait for a fantastic story with a great twist on a "nowadays" common supernatural creature. I am very excited for "The Lost Saint"'s release on December 28th.

Originality: 9/10
Ending: 10/10
Characters: 8/10
Plot: 7/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 7/10
Theme: 8/10
Imagery: 9/10
Setting: 5/5
Voice: 5/5
Style: 5/5
Tone: 0/5
Cover: 10/10
Overall: 83/100 B

To the FTC, with love: Received at BEA 2010

The authors of The Recipe Club have written a Thanksgiving article that, thanks to Caitlin from FSB Associates, I am able to post for your Thanksgiving holiday taste buds. I hope you are all gearing up for a wonder Thanksgiving Holiday!

Tales of Thanksgiving Food and Friendship By Andrea Israel and Nancy Garfinkel, Authors of The Recipe Club: A Tale of Food and Friendship

For some people, Thanksgiving evokes warm feelings triggered by memories of a close-knit family gathering, where relatives share traditions and a home-cooked meal.

For others... it's the beginning of a holiday season stuffed with lunatic relatives, family dysfunction, bitter recriminations, and heartburn.

We heard a wide range of Thanksgiving Tales this year while traveling around the country for our Recipe Clubs. Inspired by the plot and structure of our book, Recipe Clubs are storytelling and friendship circles in which women gather to share true-life food-related stories along with recipes. Recipe Clubs are not about cooking; they're about creating community and fostering friendship... they're about laughing and crying... they're about honoring our own lives and the lives of others. They show us how the simplest, sweetest, or funniest tales about food can turn into deep revelations about our lives.

Just about everybody has at least one quintessential Thanksgiving food memory that perfectly captures the complicated feelings surrounding the holiday. Here are some of our favorites:

GIVING THANKS One Recipe Club friend recalls the first time she ever cooked a Thanksgiving meal on her own. Her mother, who traditionally did the meal, was recovering from surgery. Her father was working. And her sister was flying in just in time for the meal, but not early enough to help cook.

So our friend rose to the challenge, proclaiming that she would do the entire meal, on her own. No problem — until reality set in. She woke at dawn, shopped, chopped, and soon realized her oven was half the size it needed to be. By the time the turkey wanted basting the chestnut stuffing required baking — and the brussel sprouts were definitely not cleaning themselves!

But things really went south when it came time prepare her grandmother's famous pumpkin pie. This was the pie recipe that had been handed down through generations. If it didn't come out perfectly, our friend knew she'd feel like a failure.

Of course, nothing went right. The pie crust was too wet, then too dry. There was too much nutmeg, not enough ginger. With every crimp of the dough her head swam with the imagined voice of her southern grandmother: "A woman is judged not just by who she is, but by what she can bring to the table."

When the pie came out of the oven, the crust was too brown, and there was a giant crack running down the middle of the filling. Our friend fought back tears, took a deep breath, and set the pie out to cool, knowing more clearly than ever that neither it — nor she — was, or would ever be, perfect.

But when it came time for everyone to gather at the table, something shifted. Her parents and sister praised her hard work and loved the meal. And our friend realized she had somehow been carried on the wings of the generations of women who had cooked before her, without complaining, to serve a Thanksgiving meal to their family. She felt truly thankful for all the work that her mother, grandmother, aunts — indeed all the women she'd known through her life — had accomplished each holiday. Triumphant, connected, and happy, she understood that food cooked with love is its own kind of perfection.

FINALIZING THE DIVORCE One Recipe Club friend recalled her first Thanksgiving after her divorce.

Since carving the bird had always been her ex-husband's job, she delighted in finding a new, turkey-free recipe. She settled on an apricot-glazed ham, and went to work cooking a glaze of brown sugar, cloves, and apricot nectar (an ingredient that gave her extra pleasure knowing her ex-husband detested it.)

When her grown children came for dinner, they were childishly upset not to have their usual 12-pound bird. But it was delicious, and in the end each one complimented the chef. On her way out, the youngest daughter told her mother, "maybe we all need to learn how to gracefully accept change."

For this new divorcee, serving ham became a way of asserting her independence, showing her children there was life after marriage, and teaching the whole family to find new ways to be together.

IT'S ALL RELATIVE The truth is, we don't pick our relatives. So if the Thanksgiving gathering of the clan is an annual emotional challenge, you aren't alone.

In a recent Recipe Club circle of old friends and new acquaintances, we met a woman who admitted that for most of her life she dreaded Thanksgiving; all it evoked for her were memories of family fights. The contrast of what she knew Thanksgiving was "supposed" to be, versus what it was in her home, always made her feel ashamed and disappointed. And yet every November she felt compelled go home for a family Thanksgiving meal.

But one year, that changed, when her parents and brother decided to have Thanksgiving away from home. They journeyed together to Nantucket, where they ate dinner at a seaside inn. The inn served a New England clam chowder, rich with cream and warm on a cold autumn night. And they discovered that a new location, with new foods, away from the house where memories were often more fiery than the jalepeno cornbread, turned out to be just what the family needed.

Now, every year, back at home, they have a new tradition: serving New England Clam Chowder at their Thanksgiving feasts, each spoonful bringing back fond memories of a peaceful and loving family holiday.

A FAMILY OF FRIENDS Finally, a little tale of food and friendship.

A reader of our book told us that she had a choice this year. She could invite Uncle Tim and Aunt Zoe, the way she does every year, and spend the entire holiday worrying about whether or not the perpetually complaining couple were happy. She could include cousins Beth and Sean, knowing they would be competitive, putting down her choice of food, her way of cooking, her table setting. She could extend an invitation to her brother and dreaded sister-in-law, who would sit in silence the entire meal and pick at the food.

Or... she could shake things up and do something entirely different: invite only friends. True friends. People she enjoyed being with. Who made her laugh. Who spoke truthfully. Who shared her passions for good books, good wine, and good music.

She took the leap. She dumped the whiners, broke with tradition, irritated several family members — and never looked back. The moral: good food and good friends are the perfect combination. Sometimes it's a good idea to trim the guest list before you serve the bird with all its trimmings.

©2009 Andrea Israel and Nancy Garfinkel, authors of The Recipe Club: A Tale of Food and Friendship

Author Bios for The Recipe Club: A Tale of Food and Friendship

Nancy Garfinkel is co-author of The Wine Lover's Guide to the Wine Country: The Best of Napa, Sonoma, and Mendocino(Chronicle Books, 2005). A creative strategist, design consultant, writer, and editor for magazine, corporate, and non-profit clients, she has won a host of graphic arts and editorial merit awards. She has written extensively about food and graphic arts.

For more information please visit www.therecipeclubbook.com

1. What are the biggest differences now that you are promoting the second book, Purpose, from when you were promoting Promise?
Releasing Promise was one of the most exciting times of my life because it was my debut. My first in everything. That also made it a lot more stressful, because I was scared to death people would hate it. Fortunately, they didn’t. J And now they’re looking forward to Purpose. Combine that with my own feeling that Purpose is a better story and I’m not quite as worried about that part of the equation. Of course, I’m still anxious – maybe it’s not what readers are expecting, maybe the change in Alexis turns them off, maybe it takes a direction fans don’t like, etc. – but this is the book I started out writing, the one that grabbed my heart and soul. So whether people like it or not, I personally feel a lot better about it than I did Promise.

2. I do know that you have had a few major events and awards since you were last on here, would you like to share some of those?
Hehe Yes, Promise has exceeded my expectations in the big world. It won the 1^st Place Fantasy (Published) Royal Palm Literary Award for the Florida Writers Association. That is a huge honor that I don’t take lightly. It’s also received some great reviews, including a “highly recommended” by the prestigious Midwest Book Review. MBR may not mean a lot to the average reader, but it has a strong influence on booksellers and librarians. It’s a feather in the industry cap. Promise is also (finally!) available at all major and indie retailers (though you may have to request it), including for international delivery through The Book Depository. I’ve also done some appearances, like at the Miami Book Fair International, and have some signings and presentations coming up in January.

3. Can you share with us some of what we can expect for the continuation of this story?
In Promise, Alexis starts out as a young woman just barely getting started in this world she had no idea existed. Purpose really initiates her into the world, giving her (and the reader) a taste of what’s to come. She has many challenges ahead of her as she fulfills her destiny of being the fierce protector of human souls and, eventually, taking her leadership role of the Angels’ army on earth. She transforms from vulnerable, pretty naïve and nearly human in the first book to kickass warrior in the books to come. The love story of Promise evolves into stories about the various forms of love we all experience, from love of our soul-mates to our children to complete strangers and people we never thought we could love.

4. Will any other books be featuring these characters?
The rest of this part of the series – 5 or 6 books – is Alexis’s story, so, yeah, there’s a lot more coming. Some of the major-minor characters have been sharing more of their stories with me, too. I don’t know if they’ll be full series or even books, but at least some short stories or novellas.

5. Do you have any other books in the works? We NEED more from you!: )
I’ve started book three, but it’s been back-burnered for quite a while, so I don’t know where I’m really at with it. I’m really looking forward to getting back to it, however, I’m also excited to work on some of these other stories. So many ideas, so little time…

6. What is the main thing you have learned from the entire process of getting a book out to the public?
Patience. That goes for any writer, regardless of where you are in the process. You need patience to produce the best story possible; patience in seeking publication; patience with the publishing process; and patience on the other side, as well. The word has been spreading, but it takes time to build buzz and momentum. Just because someone wants to read a book doesn’t mean they go out and buy it right away. Or even if they do, they don’t necessarily read it right away. I’m the same way. My TBR pile is a mile high. And I know most readers are that way. So we just have to have patience while the snowball grows.

7. Did you have to take out any scenes that you wish you could have kept in the story? What were the biggest changes in the story from the time you first wrote it, to the finished version?
Promise and Purpose started out as one story. Now, ending up as two books, they are, in some ways, quite a bit different than when I wrote that first draft. There are many scenes that didn’t make it and many new ones that have been added. I’m happy with the final results, but there were some sweet scenes originally in Promise with Alexis and her mother Sophia and others with Alexis and Tristan that just didn’t do enough to move the story along so they had to be cut. Probably the biggest change from that very first draft, however… something I didn’t see at first while focused on just this one book… something that has added a whole new twist to the entire series… originally, Dorian wasn’t born alone.

8. You've had quite a roll in the promoting of Promise and Purpose and you have done a fabulous job! Is that part more stressful than the writing?
Marketing is my background and I mostly enjoy it, but writing is my passion. The most stressful part, really, is not having enough time to do everything.

9. Do you have any recent events planned that you would like to share?
Of course, there’s the virtual release party for Purpose going until 12/18. After the holidays, I’ll be doing some local signings and by spring, I should be expanding the tour into other states, including Virginia, Arizona and Minnesota.

10. Can you give us a little excerpt from Purpose?

A shadow shifted in the corner. Two small, red lights glowed from about two-thirds up the wall. I realized they were eyes. It can’t really be Daemoni—can it? We hadn’t been bothered for over seven years. Not a single visit or even a threat. Nothing at all. They had what they wanted.
“Don’t you know?”
The shadow moved forward, just enough for the light from my clock to slightly illuminate a face—pale, bluish-white in the clock’s glare, glowing eyes and… fangs. The light reflected off his glimmering teeth, bared in an evil grin, if that’s what you could call it, and I knew for sure those were fangs. And I knew immediately what he was. From what I could see, he favored some of my characters, as if he’d stepped out of the pages of the books I wrote.
Such a strange feeling—to feel as though I’d awakened in my usual way but know I was dreaming again. I had to be. Monsters were real, but vampires were not.
“C-Claudius?” My voice shook. I knew this dream was about to become a terrible nightmare. With his dark hair floating around the sides of his face, this visitor looked similar to my Claudius, leader of the evilest vampire nest in my make-believe world.
“Ha!” the shadow barked. “So you do see the resemblance.”

Purpose by Kristie Cook Publisher: Ang'dora Productions (December 15th, 2010) Reading Level: 17 and up Paperback: 377 pages Series: Soul Savers, book #2 Lost in despair, Alexis teeters on the edge of an abyss, her lifeline of hope fraying into a thin thread. If it snaps, she’ll plunge into complete darkness. With the help of her son and her writing, she’s been able to hold on. Until now. Erratic impulses, disturbing delusions and her own demonic blood threaten her sanity. When she’s forced to choose between hanging onto hope or letting go to serve her Amadis purposes, she faces a decision with inconceivable sacrifices.

Alexis runs to the one place she thinks will provide answers, only to find herself at the center of another battle of good versus evil, not only with the Daemoni, not only within herself… but also against the worst opponent imaginable. But even if she wins, what will she lose?

Don't forget to check out the Re-Cover contest of Promise and Purpose. Entries must be in 12/18.

Find Kristie Cook Kristie Cook / Promise / Goodreads
Purchase Signed Copies of Purpose

From Amazon.com...

"A lawyer's advice to his children as he defends the real mockingbird of Harper Lee's classic novel—a black man charged with the rape of a white girl. Through the young eyes of Scout and Jem Finch, Harper Lee explores with rich humor and unswerving honesty the irrationality of adult attitudes toward race and class in the Deep South of the 1930s. The conscience of a town steeped in prejudice, violence, and hypocrisy is pricked by the stamina and quiet heroism of one man's struggle for justice—but the weight of history will only tolerate so much. "

Why I read this: I had to teach it so I guessed I had better read it.

Plot: The plot of this timeless classic, I'll admit, starts slow. My students struggled with "TKM" in the beginning; I attempted to read it several times over the summer after returning from BEA. Finally, I inter-library loaned the audio and finally I was able to get into it. Because of this, my English 9 classes listened to the entire first half of the book in class. While maybe not ideal, I think they were more able to relate to it and "get into" the novel.

Finally, towards the end of the novel, the plot picked up and my students didn't struggle as much. About this point I had a hard time getting my students to actually STOP reading so that the rest of the class could catch up and everyone would be on the same page.

Characters: Next time I teach "TKM," I will make a bookmark for my students with all the character information — many of them seemed to struggle with the characters and keeping them straight. I think my students liked Scout and Jem, but I think Atticus' character completely went over their heads because he wasn't the narrator or (seemingly) the protagonist. I don't think any of them realized the gravity of his decisions and actions.

Cover: The cover on the book that our school distributes could use some updating, I think the cover alone gives kids the wrong impression of this book.

Final Thoughts: Surprisingly, my two of my five classes hated "TKM." No matter what I did they refused to even have a classroom discussion about the novel. Even when I brought outside information in, they just refused to realize how timeless this novel is (there had been a robbery in Sioux Falls the week we finished "TKM." Three suspects tied a man up in his house and taped his mouth shut but did not blindfold him. When describing the suspects all the news broadcasters said were "three black men." The discussion was based on the fact that identifying the suspects as "black" and "men" gave the area really no important descriptions, such as height, weight, build, facial hair, tattoos, etc. As a result, any "black man" in the area was now (metaphorically) a mockingbird). I was extremely proud of the possibilities of this discussion, but in the end it failed horribly with these two classes). These two classes refused to even respect the fact that it was a "classic" and in it's 50th year of publication — talk about aggrivating!

However, the other three classes (towards the end of the novel) loved it. We not only had the aforementioned discussion, but many other discussions that they had come up with on their own. They were the students I had to slow down in order to finish the book as a class! I loved these classes and how surprised they were that a classic could be, oh I don't know, good reading! It was a fun experience to have such great classes who were willing to "hang in there" and enjoy a scholarly activity.

Originality: 10/10
Ending: 10/10
Characters: 8/10
Plot: 8/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 7/10
Theme: 9/10
Imagery: 10/10
Setting: 5/5
Voice: 5/5
Style: 4/5
Tone: 4/5
Cover: 5/10
Overall: 85/100 B

To the FTC, with love: Received at BEA 2010 and through the Library/School

Halloween, 2011 (from Ten)
by
Gretchen McNeil

Jenny stood frozen in the hallway just outside Teddy's room, body tense, feet rooted to the floor. The sound she'd heard from downstairs was louder now, and what she'd thought were the bumps and thuds of her little brother playing in his room after bedtime now appeared less innocent. As she gazed at him from the doorway, Teddy lay curled up in his Avengers comforter, eyes closed, chest heaving slow and steady as he slept. Alone.

But Janeny could still hear the footsteps.

Footsteps. Yes, that's exactly what they were. Heavy, plodding footsteps pacing back and forth across the floor of her kid brother's room, slightly uneven with a hiccup between every other step as if the person making them walked with a limp.

Person? Janeny swallowed, her throat parched and raspy. No"person" made these footsteps, unless Janeny had developed a sudden case of cataracts. Her eyes took in the entire length of Teddy's room, illuminated by the dullish blue glow of his night light, and nothing moved. Not even a flutter from the curtains, yet she could clearly make out the steady canter of the limping footsteps. She could actually trace them from left to right across the room, pausing for a split second at the closet door, then retreating to the other side of the room, pausing again at the edge of Teddy's bed. Rinse, repeat. Janeny couldn't pull her eyes away, her brain desperate to see something moving in the near darkness, unable to grasp what might be happening in her house.

Then, as suddenly as they began, the footsteps stopped.

Silence descended upon the house. Janeny continued to stand in the bedroom doorway, sweat beading on her upper li, despite the cold. Janeny realized she was shivering; all the warmth had been sucked out of the house.

That's when she felt it. A bony hand gripping her shoulder.

Jenny swung around and—

Meg dropped her pen on the bed as her cell phone purred from the nightstand. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. She sighed and closed her writing journal, then reached across a stack of pillows and picked up her phone. Three texts, all from Minnie, and as she held the phone in her hand, debating whether or not she actually wanted to read Minnie's drunk texts from her boyfriend Gunner's Halloween party, the phone vibrated again. More messages.

Meg sighed. Typical.

She swiped her finger across the screen, and Minnie's texts began to scroll.

MINNIE: OMG, I can't believe you're not here. What were you thinking?

MINNIE: And don't give me that bullshit about being sick. What am I, stupid?

MINNIE: The whole football team's here. And half the cheerleading squad. This is the party of the century you're missing!

Meg laughed to herself. There was no place on the planet she'd less rather be than at Gunner's party.

Because if Gunner was there, his best friend T.J. would be, too.

And Meg couldn't handle that.

It was bad enough that Minnie was dating Gunner as a means to get closer to T.J., worse that Meg had been forced to listen to her best friend go on and on and on ad nauseum about T.J. during the last few months. It wasn't that Meg didn't like him. Nope it was much worse than that.
Meg was in love with T.J., too.

She'd been hiding it from Minnie for so long it had become her baseline. Minnie would rhapsodize that someday T.J. would realize she was the perfect girl for him, and Meg would just nod and smile, all the while indulging in her own fantasies about T.J., his gorgeous dimpled smile, how his lips would feel pressed against her own…

In private, she could handle it. She could put on her game face when it was just the two of them hanging out. But at party after Minnie had downed a few beers? No way. Meg discovered first hand that spring just how painful it could be to watch Minnie throw herself at the boy Meg was in love with.

So Meg's coping mechanism? Fake the stomach flu, stay home, and write a new short story.

Buzz, buzz, buzz. Great. Minnie was in rare, needy form tonight.

MINNIE: I seriously have the best costume here. Sexy Alice in Wonderland FTW!

MINNIE: T.J.'s here. Of course. OMG, he's doing like a Johnny Depp pirate thing that is SO FUCKING SEXY.

MINNIE: I'll send you a photo of us, okay? Let me find him.

Sexy pirate thing? Meg dropped her phone on the bed. It buzzed almost immediately with new texts.
Part of Meg desperately wanted to see the photo, a mash up of her love for Johnny Depp and her love for T.J. Fletcher. Then again, did she really want to see Minnie in her sexy Alice dress which barely covered her ass, thigh highs and pushed up cleavage, draped seductively over T.J.'s arm? She wasn't sure she could handle that. Again.
Buzz. Buzz.

Dammit.

MINNIE: Huh. Can't find him. I swear T.J. was here a minute ago.

MINNIE: OMG, if he took off with that slut Brenda Raines I'm going to kick both of their asses.

T.J.: Are you home?

Meg froze.

T.J. was texting her? On Halloween? While he was at the"party of the century?"

A warmth spread across her chest, all stupid and silly and delicious in the way only a text from T.J. Fletcher could make her feel. With a trembling hand, she picked up her phone and typed,"Yeah."

The doorbell rang almost immediately. Meg caught her breath. Could it be T.J.?

Meg's dad stuck his head out of his bedroom door just as she stepped into the hallway."Trick or treaters?" he said, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose."At this hour?"

"I'll get it, Dad," Meg said, hoping her voice didn't sound too anxious.

He shrugged, and ducked back into his room. Thank God. If it was T.J. at the door, the last thing she needed was her dad hovering around her.

Meg reached the door and realized her heart was thundering in her chest. She needed to calm down. It's not T.J., she said to herself. Just a late trick or treater, like Dad said.

But as Meg switched on the porch light, she caught sight of a hat through the beveled glass windows in the front door.

A tri-corner night.

Like a pirate.

Ten by Gretchen McNeil
Publisher: Balzer + Bray (September 18th, 2012)
Reading Level: Young Adult
Hardback: 294 pages
SHHHH!
Don't spread the word!
Three-day weekend. House party.
White Rock House on Henry Island.
You do NOT want to miss it.

It was supposed to be the weekend of their lives—an exclusive house party on Henry Island. Best friends Meg and Minnie each have their reasons for being there (which involve T.J., the school’s most eligible bachelor) and look forward to three glorious days of boys, booze and fun-filled luxury.

But what they expect is definitely not what they get, and what starts out as fun turns dark and twisted after the discovery of a DVD with a sinister message: Vengeance is mine.

Suddenly people are dying, and with a storm raging, the teens are cut off from the outside world. No electricity, no phones, no internet, and a ferry that isn’t scheduled to return for two days. As the deaths become more violent and the teens turn on each other, can Meg find the killer before more people die? Or is the killer closer to her than she could ever imagine?

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive a signed copy of Possess.

• 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 US Only and ends November 18th.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

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Please read full entry rules here. Don't forget to check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post for today!

By: Jessica Souders

So, everyone who knows me, knows that Halloween is my favorite time of year, which is really weird, because I hate on things scary. I avoid horror movies. I steer clear of horror books. And video games that are creepy? No. Freakin. Way!
So why do I avoid these and still love Halloween? Easy. I live my own horror story.
It started as a kid. When I was six, I was CONVINCED that there were ghosts living in my basement. I refused to go down there if no one else was. In all actually there probably wasn’t, but it was creepy as heck.
Then we moved. And I had my first real, live experience with a ghost. We moved to this really old house. And at first I was supposed to share a room with my brother. It was only supposed to be for a few months until they fixed up the walk-in attic into a third bedroom. Then I’d get the ENTIRE thing to myself.
Of course, I was ecstatic. Here I was 8 years old and absolutely in love with the fact that I’d get the entire 2^nd floor to myself. That was until I realized how creepy the stairway was. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day it was or whether or not lights were on, that stairway was ALWAYS PITCH BLACK.
Even when my parents installed lights in the stairway, they’d burn out. Or break. Or something. So they eventually gave up. They’d fix it later. But I knew I no longer wanted to be in the attic. Something was trying to keep me out of it. That’s why the light was always broken and why I always got the heebie jeebies whenever I went up with my parents to move the junk the other people left behind.
So they continued fixing up the attic for me, but in the mean time I had to stay in the room with my brother. He slept on one side, furthest from the door. While I slept on the other, which was directly in front of the door. The headboard butted up against the window.
At first it was really cool. In fact, it was darn right FREEZING. Even in summer that room was cold. And in winter? Forget it. You needed fifty blankets to keep warm.
My parents blamed it on the really old furnace that looked like a freakin’ octopus. It was scary. I was sure one day it was going to grab me with its tentacles and then eat me, but I knew better. There was just something about the way it creaked and moaned and groaned. I was sure it was something evil.
Well, it so happened that I had to have surgery on my foot right before Christmas, so I was confined to either my bed or the couch. Not that I wanted to be any where else. The basement had the furnance, octopus, demon and the attic was haunted.
One night, I went to sleep as usual, bundled up under a dozen or so blankets. The wind howling behind my head through the window. And snow falling like crazy.
Well, it wasn’t too long after I fell asleep that I heard, “Jessica. Jessica.”
Thinking it was just my dumb brother, I rolled over to face the wall. “Shut up, Steven. Leave me alone,” I mumbled.
Again, I heard, “Jessica. Jessica.”
I ignored it this time. I wanted to sleep. It was cold and I was pretty sure the snot was going to freeze to my face, so I covered my head with the blanket.
Then I felt a slight tug on the blanket and again I heard, “Jessica. Jessica.”
I whipped off the blanket and sat straight up, glaring across the room to where my brother was. “Steven,” I said. “If you don’t go to sleep and leave me alone, I’m going to hit you with my crutch and you can’t tell mom, because you’ll get in trouble for bothering me.”
He didn’t respond so I was pretty I’d put the fear of God into him. Smug with myself, I lay back down, watching my brother this time. I closed my eyes, but kept them slitted open so I could smack my brother if he tried bugging me.
Then, I feel the tug again and my name, “Jessica. Jessica,” but this time I’m staring at my brother and I KNOW it’s not him.
In fact, he takes that moment to roll over with a snore, so I can see he’s dead asleep with his mouth hanging open and drool coming down his chin.
Freaked out now, I don’t know what to think, but I know I don’t want to know what’s tugging on my blankets.
But it happens again, “Jessica. Jessica.”
Scared, but knowing I have to do SOMETHING, I roll over and look to where the voice is coming from. Then I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
There at the top of my open doorway, is a FACE. Just a face. There’s no body. No arms. No neck. Nothing but a floating head, taller than anyone in my family.
The face was pure white, with eyes as black as coal. It smiled at me, when it saw I saw it, and it was the most terrifying smile I’d ever seen. I can’t even describe how scary it was. I just knew that if I didn’t get off that bed. Right. Then. I was going to die.
I didn’t know what to do though. I was trapped. The only way out was through the door the face was occupying. So I grabbed one of my crutches and THREW it at the face.
It sailed right through it, landing with a thunk. Of course, I did the only sane thing I could think of. I bolted.
Using my only crutch, I hobbled as fast as I could out the door and bolted into my parents room.
They were both sleeping and no amount of sobbing, screaming, or shaking would wake them up. I finally gave up and crawled onto the couch, where I curled into a ball, sobbing.
I did eventually cry myself back to sleep. Only to be assaulted with nightmares about a man who’d murdered his children and shoved them into the furnace in the basement.
The next morning I told my parents what happened, but they didn’t believe me. But it wasn’t long after that, that my parents blocked off that room and my brother and I slept on the floor in their room.
A few months later, we moved back to Green Bay.
I’ll never know what that was all about, but I remember it to this day and I still think about doing research to find out if those dreams were true, but I don’t think I want to know.

Jessica currently has a few books in the works. Here is a blurb from one of the titles.
After millennia of war, one has been chosen to save humanity from the creatures that mean to destroy it. But a choice must be made. A choice that will determine the course of history. But how do you choose when one path leads to Hell, and the other leads to death?

Brianna Ridley always knew she was special--a Halfling, born of parents from two separate worlds. But when she's yanked out of bed on the eve of her 18th birthday and rushed halfway across the world by her panicked mother--because her people are being picked off one by one--she realizes special has a price.
Another book is a YA steampunk Dystopian — Renegade.
Evelyn Winters has been trained from the age of three to be an Enforcer--a trained assassin--and the only child of the Governor and Governess of the underwater utopia know as Elysium. But, when Gavin Hunter, a Surface Dweller, finds his way into her comfy little world, she’s forced to come to a startling realization: everything she knows is a lie. The happy little bubble she’s lived in all these years has just popped and the person she knows as Mother is a monster. She must now find a way to rescue Gavin from her murderous mother’s hands, regain control of her body and the implanted instructions constantly urging her to kill, and somehow find a way to start a new life with Gavin on the surface.

- Thanks Jessica for the great story!
Find Jessica Souders Jessica Souders / Blog / Twitter

* 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.