The Best Reader [Search results for Where it Began] 

I am participating in the tour for Where it Began and today author Ann Redisch Stampler is here to share her This or That list with us.
I was lucky enough to get 2 ARCs of Where it Began so be sure to sign up below for the chance to win a copy!
THIS OR THAT

Peanut Butter or Chocolate
Chocolate. Oh my God, chocolate. I just ate leftover chocolate raspberry birthday cake for lunch.
Coffee or Tea
Mostly tea. Irish breakfast and green.
Writing in quiet or Writing with music
Mornings, maybe music. Night, absolute quiet.
Organized or Cluttered
Aspire to organized. Not entirely successful
Spontaneous or Planner
With writing, in the beginning stages, it has to be spontaneous. No outline. Can’t force anything. Then when I have hundreds of pages of disjointed chapters, and vast numbers of disembodied sentences, lots of catch-up planning.
Beach or Mountains
Beach. I grew up in Santa Barbara. Beach!
Comedy or Horror
Comedy. There’s more than enough naturally occurring horror in the world without cultivating it.
Geek or Chic
I am so chic. Don’t laugh. (There are certain articles of clothing Gabby makes fun of in the book that I actually own.)
Adventure seeker or Couch potato
Adventure seeker. Aspirationally. Unfortunately, writing involves a tremendous amount of sitting on a couch. I actually write on a couch.
Early bird or Night owl
Insomniac. I’m just always up.

Where it Began by Ann Redisch Stampler
Publisher: Simon Pulse (March 6th, 2012)
Reading Level: Young Adult
Hardback: 384 pages
Sometimes the end is just the beginning.

Gabby lived under the radar until her makeover. Way under. But when she started her senior year as a blonder, better-dressed version of herself, she struck gold: Billy Nash believed she was a the flawless girl she was pretending to be. The next eight months with Billy were bliss… Until the night Gabby woke up on the ground next to the remains of his BMW without a single memory of how she got there.

And Billy's nowhere to be found.

All Gabby wants is to make everything perfect again. But getting her life back isn't difficult, it's impossible. Because nothing is the same, and Gabby's beginning to realize she's missed more than a few danger signs along the way.

It's time for Gabby to face the truth, even if it means everything changes.

Especially if it means everything changes.

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive an ARC of WHERE IT BEGAN.

• 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 12th.
• 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 | The Book Depository

Where it Began by Ann Redisch Stampler
Publisher: Simon Pulse (March 6th, 2012)
Reading Level: Young Adult
Hardback: 384 pages
Source: Publisher
Rating: 3 of 5 stars
Sometimes the end is just the beginning.

Gabby lived under the radar until her makeover. Way under. But when she started her senior year as a blonder, better-dressed version of herself, she struck gold: Billy Nash believed she was a the flawless girl she was pretending to be. The next eight months with Billy were bliss… Until the night Gabby woke up on the ground next to the remains of his BMW without a single memory of how she got there.

And Billy's nowhere to be found.

All Gabby wants is to make everything perfect again. But getting her life back isn't difficult, it's impossible. Because nothing is the same, and Gabby's beginning to realize she's missed more than a few danger signs along the way.

It's time for Gabby to face the truth, even if it means everything changes.

Especially if it means everything changes.

Review:

When Gabby wakes up in the hospital she is completely confused. The one thing she does know is that she has a boyfriend, Billy, and he is not there with her. She can't figure out why he doesn't visit her. As she heals, pieces of the puzzle come together for her but it is a slow process.

A lot of this book goes through Gabby's memories and the time right after she"changed". She had been an average girl but after her mother forces her to get a makeover, she gets much more popular and that is what originally gets the attention of the popular Billy Nash.

The plot of this book was okay but Gabby really annoyed me. She was very self-centered and a lot of the book just discusses her looks. I got tired of reading about her hair and clothes. I wanted her to focus more on the important things but that never really happened. Parts of the book really lagged for me and it drove me crazy when she kept worrying about Billy. I wanted to feel more attached to the characters but I didn't.

I would still pick up other books by Ann Redisch Stampler because her writing style is enjoyable. This book just fell short for me.
Recommended: Contemporary fans wanting something with a little mystery.

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This week I'd like to welcome Dominique from Coffee Stained Pages as our Guest Reviewer.

******************************
From Amazon.com...

"When Ellie and her friends go camping, they have no idea they're leaving their old lives behind forever. Despite a less-than-tragic food shortage and a secret crush or two, everything goes as planned. But a week later, they return home to find their houses empty and their pets starving. Something has gone wrong--horribly wrong. Before long, they realize the country has been invaded, and the entire town has been captured--including their families and all their friends. Ellie and the other survivors face an impossible decision: They can flee for the mountains or surrender. Or they can fight."

John Marsden’s The Tomorrow Series is easily Australia’s most popular young adult series. The book definitely lived up to its hype and popularity; I polished it off in only two sittings.
Tomorrow, When the War Began is told from the point of view of Ellie, a sixteen-year-old “rural” from fictional country-town Wirrawee. She and her friends go bush for a few days, attempting to reach the practically inaccessible Hell, a remote valley. With great difficulty they climb The Devil’s Staircase leading to it and then squeeze through metres of rock in a small cave before finally arriving in Hell, which they find to be a beautiful, hidden sanctuary from the pressures of life. When they emerge and travel home they find their homes empty of their families, their pets dead and all power and electricity shut off. Australia has been invaded by an unnamed foreign power while they were gone and almost everyone in the town has been captured. During their short trip their lives changed forever and now Ellie and her friends must fight to maintain their freedom and plan how to survive as guerillas.
Tomorrow, When the War Began is different to the norm of the dystopic genre; it lacks the oppressive social structure and rules of a totalitarian regime, instead it features characters trying to resist capture by an invading force yet to fully establish itself. It’s still dystopic, but it focuses on that period where a power is taking over, a time traditionally only briefly recapped or left a mystery in most other novels of this genre (eg The Giver by Lois Lowry, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and the list goes on).
The idea of a foreign nation becoming jealous of all the space at the disposal of Australians while their people are crammed together in slums, then deciding to invade it and colonise it, capturing Australians and intending for them later to become menial workers is an interesting one. A large percentage of Australians, mainly the middle to lower-income earners, have an irrational fear of Australia becoming overrun with refugees and immigrants. Regularly stories of asylum seekers entering our waters in rickety boats receive wide coverage and national debate, with the government maintaining a tough stance on the issue to keep voters happy. It’s very much an irrational fear considering “More than 1,600 boat people have arrived off Australia’s northwest coast this year, mainly people fleeing violence in Afghanistan and Sri Lanka. The numbers are small compared with the tens of thousands of asylum seekers sailing across the Mediterranean to Europe each year.” It’s even more of a ludicrous fear since “as of June 30 (2009), a total of 48,456 people had overstayed their visa” in Australia, mostly English tourists. In Tomorrow, When the War Began Marsden plays on this fear, while never identifying the invader, and apparently no country fits the description that evolves throughout the series.
Marsden’s writing is tense and maintains a sense of urgency throughout the novel, making for an engaging experience. He establishes its sense of place expertly, capturing the essence of small town Australian life and culture without hamming it up for the international readers, something that really irritates me about some novels set in Australia. According to the Author’s Note at the end of the book Hell is based on Terrible Hollow, in the Australian Alps. Nicola Outdoors has some great pictures of the area up on her site, for anyone who’s interested.
Tomorrow, When the War Began is full of action, from combat, to concealment, hunting and hiding to infighting and a bit of the romantic variety of action too. Marsden’s characters are brave and likeable, and with compassion he examines how the adolescents deal with the violence and the emotional turmoil of an invasion.
****************************** Dominique, thank you so much for this great review! It sounds like a one of a kind read!
Please visit Dominique at Coffee Stained Pages, share some book love, and read the original review.

Amy Plum, author of the new book Die for Me, is here today to discuss the book and her writing.
Die for Me will be released tomorrow!

Check out the bottom for a link to follow the rest of the tour stops.

1. From reading some of the background of Die For Me, it's easy to see how much thought you put into the story long before you began writing. Can you share with us 3 things that you were determined to achieve with this story?

3. And thirdly: redemption. Kate is strong and independent in a way that I wasn’t at her age. And I gave her a family I would have loved to have had.

So, although I hadn’t thought about it ahead of time, as I wrote the book (especially figuring out Kate’s past, although much of it isn’t spelled out) I was aware that I was rewriting my own past. In a small way, the book is a sort of redemption for a childhood and adolescence that included lots of not-very-nice things. And although Kate’s parents die when she is sixteen, up until then her life is what I wish mine had been.

2. Many of the locations in Die For Me were ones from your past. What made you decide to do that and is there any other place special to you that you wish you could include in a book?
I am very visual, so places are important to me. And dropping my characters into locations I myself have known is—again—like recreating my past. I loved putting Jules’s art studio in my old apartment, placing a lot of the action in my old neighborhood, the Marais, and then there’s the Pont des Arts… *sigh*. So perhaps it’s a bit of a crutch. I know these places so well that I can easily go to them in my mind when I’m writing a scene. It might just facilitate the action to be able to close my eyes and be right back there.

Although… I made up the interior of Jean-Baptiste’s house from my imagination (dropping in a few elements that I knew: the staircase, Charlotte’s heart-shaped windows… ). BUT even though I’ve never been there, I know every room in that place like it was my own house.
And yes – I would write a book that takes place, at least partly, in New York City, my other urban love besides Paris. It is just as magical as Paris, but in a completely different way.

3. What is the hardest part of juggling family time and writing? Do you have any tips for anyone who may be struggling with the same thing?

I can’t write if my children are in the house with me. (Unless they’re asleep, and by that time I’m usually too exhausted to write.) They’re only three and five, and if I am around they want to be rightnexttome. I’m lucky enough to have an office outside of my home. It’s a little building that’s just across the yard from our house. And when I go there I know that no one is going to bother me. I can immerse myself completely in my writing without my concentration being broken.

So my advice would be to find a place where you know you can let your mind reign supreme. Without listening for that next knock on the door or ringing phone. In Stephen King’s book ON WRITING, he spoke of writing his first two published novels “in the laundry room of a doublewide trailer, pounding away on my wife’s portable Olivetti typewriter and balancing a child’s desk on my thighs.” He says that John Cheever wrote in the basement of his Park Avenue apartment building, near the furnace. It doesn’t matter where it is or if it is even comfortable. If it is YOURS AND ONLY YOURS—for the time you are writing—that is what matters.

4. What has been the biggest adjustment for you since you started writing? What is your favorite thing to do that helps you relax after a long day of writing?

The biggest adjustment has been having a project that is long-term. When I was an art dealer or a professor or wrote articles for magazines, I had short-term projects that I could work hard on and then be done with in a relatively short amount of time. Now, writing the draft of a book usually takes me a few months. I’ve had to learn to chop that up into short-term goals. One day will be just for planning. The next I will write one chapter. I can’t stop until I finish it, but once I do I’m done for the day. Or if I’m editing, I have to finish two chapters per day. Whatever it is, I have to look at it as small tasks, because seeing it as a whole is too overwhelming for my impatient, impulsive personality.

And favorite thing to do at the end of a long day of writing? Usually after writing, I am busy splitting parenting activities with my husband: making dinner, getting the kids’ bath, pajamas, bedtime books, etc. So it’s not until the kids are in bed that I have time to relax. At that point, I’m usually so exhausted that I flop into bed with a book or my New Yorker magazine, or bring my laptop with me and read scandalous celebrity gossip! (Shhh… shameful confession!) When my husband offers to do all the kiddie stuff himself (when he sees that I’m falling over), I take a one-hour bath with a book and a glass of wine.

5. Can you tell us something that people would find surprising about you?
I don’t have a television connection… by choice. My tv set is only used for DVDs! So when people talk about different television series or personalities, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. (Except for True Blood – my friend Kim sent me the series on DVD. Which I LOVE.)

6. What else can people expect from the Revenants series? Do you know how many books will be in the series?

DIE FOR ME is a trilogy. But I certainly have enough of a story to write another book or maybe spinoff books. I also have another series I’d like to write however, so who knows what will happen! So as far as the actual books go—your guess is as good as mine.

However, as for the story line, you can expect to discover more about the revenant mythology. You will learn more about the other characters. And you will see how Kate and Vincent respond to new challenges posed both by their relationship and by this dangerous supernatural world that Kate is just beginning to discover.

Die for Me by Amy Plum
Publisher: HarperTeen (May 10th, 2011) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardback: 341 pages Series: Revenants, book #1 My life had always been blissfully, wonderfully normal. But it only took one moment to change everything.
Suddenly, my sister, Georgia, and I were orphans. We put our lives into storage and moved to Paris to live with my grandparents. And I knew my shattered heart, my shattered life, would never feel normal again. Then I met Vincent.
Mysterious, sexy, and unnervingly charming, Vincent Delacroix appeared out of nowhere and swept me off my feet. Just like that, I was in danger of losing my heart all over again. But I was ready to let it happen.
Of course, nothing is ever that easy. Because Vincent is no normal human. He has a terrifying destiny, one that puts his life at risk every day. He also has enemies.. immortal, murderous enemies who are determined to destroy him and all of his kind.
While I'm fighting to piece together the remnants of my life, can I risk putting my heart—as well as my life and my family's—in jeopardy for a chance at love?

Find Amy Plum
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Purchase Die for Me
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K ody was born and raised in rural western Kentucky, where she attended high school and began writing her first long pieces of fiction. Kody wrote THE DUFF during her senior year at McLean County High School.
Kody is now nineteen and attending Ithaca College in New York where she's majoring in writing and finishing her second novel to be published by Poppy in Fall 2011.
She loves books, converse tennis shoes, New York City, and popular TV teen dramas. When she isn't writing, she's spending time with her friends and, most likely, doing piles and piles of homework she has neglected.

1. The DUFF is such an amazing story, but when you first started writing it did you ever imagine it going this far?

Never. I really wrote this book for fun more than anything, and once I finished, I had readers tell me to query agents. I expected rejections all around because, let’s face it, I was so young and the chances were so slim. But I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t try, at least.

And now, a year and a half later, here I am. I can only say that I’ve been so, so blessed to have this all happen to a story that I really, truly loved writing.

2. Now that you are getting feedback from readers, what has surprised you the most about their thoughts on the book?
I’m continually amazed by how differently each reader views the same book. I’ve had some readers call THE DUFF “light hearted” while others have called it “heavy” and “emotional.” Some readers have said it’s one of the funniest they’ve read, while others tell me that the book made them cry. Each reader seems to leave with a different take, I’m an always fascinated to see who views the book in which way.

3. I also went to school in Kentucky. Can you explain what it's like to go from a small town in Kentucky to attending college in New York?
Well, honestly, I go to school in Ithaca, New York. Which is, in fact, a small town not that much different from the area where I lived in Kentucky. That made it very easy to adapt.

However, I do spend a lot of time in New York City, and I’ve found that I like it there a lot. It’s a huge change from back roads and corn fields, but I love the transportation and the lights and the buzz. I can go from one extreme to another when traveling between NYC and Kentucky, and it’s getting easier every time. But at first, there was total culture shock.

4. You are now working on your second novel. How do you juggle that with going to college and promoting The DUFF?
I won’t lie – it’s hard. I get behind a lot. I forget to do things. I don’t get as much sleep as I should and sometimes I miss out on fun things with my friends.

But, at the end of the day, I do my best and I’m happy, because even when it’s hard, it’s a blessing, and I know I’m so lucky to be in this position. I just remind myself of that every time I feel overwhelmed.

Thank you so much Kody for stopping by. USE GOOGLE to check out my review of THE DUFF

The DUFF by Kody Keplinger Publisher: Little Brown- Poppy (September 7th, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 288 pages Seventeen-year-old Bianca Piper is cynical and loyal, and she doesn't think she's the prettiest of her friends by a long shot. She's also way too smart to fall for the charms of man-slut and slimy school hottie Wesley Rush. In fact, Bianca hates him. And when he nicknames her"Duffy," she throws her Coke in his face.

But things aren't so great at home right now. Desperate for a distraction, Bianca ends up kissing Wesley. And likes it. Eager for escape, she throws herself into a closeted enemies-with-benefits relationship with Wesley.

Until it all goes horribly awry. It turns out that Wesley isn't such a bad listener, and his life is pretty screwed up, too. Suddenly Bianca realizes with absolute horror that she's falling for the guy she thought she hated more than anyone.

For more information on Kody Keplinger or The DUFF: Kody Keplinger / Blog / Twitter / Goodreads
Buy from: Amazon / The Book Depository / Barnes & Noble

I've been thinking about blogging a lot lately, you know... rather than actually doing it.

I have some confessions to make. I've been a "bad" blogger the last couple months. I got frustrated with the lack of progress my blog had made in two years and I compromised my integrity to get higher numbers.

Yes. I did.

What exactly did I do to get the numbers I wanted? Are you prepared? It's pretty awful.

I hosted several contests where you had to be a GFC follower to enter. I participated in Giveaway Hops, again, where you had to follow in order to enter. I became obsessed with Follow Friday and the Book Blogger Hop — where you follow and comment for the purpose of numbers. Yes, I did find a few (I can think of three off the top of my head) bloggers who I've actually built a relationship with.

Now, this is not a slam on those memes, but the basic purpose (as far as I can tell) is to gain followers. And... I won't lie, my blog has grown exponentially. The thought behind these memes is to meet other bloggers etc and visit new blogs, but the truth is (for me) it was about numbers, about putting forth as little effort as possible (posting a simple response to a question) and watch my follower number increase.

As part of my confession, I want to illustrate just how much participating in these particular blogging extracurriculars boosted my "numbers"; I actively began participating in January. (Note: Blogger began keeping track of stats in the middle of June).

There's no doubt about it — if you want numbers it works. I thought I wanted numbers (and I still kind of do — I won't lie).

But the fact is, if I'm going to stress about blogging (never a good thing) I'd rather stress about my content than numbers. I'm being completely honest — I blog for me and my students, I blog because I love the community, I blog because I love books, I blog because I love blogging. But honestly, I just don't think it's as fun blogging if no one reads it. There will always be those people who say "I don't care about numbers" etc (and I mean no disrespect) but generally, it seems, like the people saying that HAVE the numbers and have the niche.

It'd be easy to lie. It'd be easy to say: "No, I don't care about numbers or followers or a larger readership. I don't care about my blog being successful. I blog for me and me alone." But I'm not going to do that. Yes, I blog for me and because I enjoy it, but I do care about the success of my blog. If I didn't, I would read books and form opinions and move on without a review. If I didn't care about the success of my blog I wouldn't have taken all the steps I have to market and promote my blog. I wouldn't be spending countless hours reading other blogs, commenting, tweeting, and working on the look of my own blog. I wouldn't be so engrossed in the social media of the book blogging community.

So, what do I do? I feel like I've lost my blogging integrity and I've lost focus. I don't want my blog to be about numbers. I don't want to post memes to "fill space" and "gain numbers."
In order to gain back a bit of my blogging integrity I vow to all of you faithful (and amazing) readers:

• Never to host a contest where you must be a follower. I want my online space to be content driven, not numbers driven.
• Instead of posting mindless, contentless meme posts in hopes of adding followers, to instead visit three other blogs a week and attempt to build a real content-based relationship with them. Rather than leaving a quick comment: "New follower here stopping by for the Hop/Follow Friday/etc"
• To never (or hardly ever) feel stressed or obligated to post

I apologize for the use of parentheses.

Edit: I forgot to mention this. Thank you to all of the "content-driven" readers that I have. Besides my love of students and books, you are the reason I keep blogging. You're the reason I love hearing that little Blackberry email chime on my phone when you comment. Thanks for all you do.

I solemnly swear I will post a review this week.:)

True Scary Story
by
Le a Nolan

“Ray, I don’t think we’re alone in this house.” My mother held her breath, waiting for my father’s response. They’d just moved into the old cottage that faced the highway. Finding another place to live was probably out of the question.

“Of course not, Alice. The baby’s here, too.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. We, the three of us, aren’t alone. Someone else is here too.”

My father’s shoulders stiffened. “Like an intruder?” His voice filled with a fierce mixture of testosterone and the urge to protect his own.

“No,” she shook her head, trying to explain the recent events to her no-nonsense spouse. “It’s a… presence. And it’s here all the time.”

His brow furrowed. “A ghost?”

She nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’m pretty sure it’s a child.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And how would you know that?

“During the day, when you’re at work and I’m here with Lea, it plays with me. When I’m in the kitchen with the baby, I’ll hear something moving or jingling in the living room. As soon as I go in there to see what it is, the pots and pans start rattling in the pantry. This happens all day long, no matter where I am.” She gazed into my father’s pale blue eyes. “It’s happening so much, I’ve started talking to it, telling it I know it’s there. I think it believes we’re playing a game. And… I can almost see it. Not if I look at it straight on, but once in a while, I’ll catch a glimpse of something that looks like a wisp of smoke from the corner of eye.”

As my father stared hard at her, my mother knew he was working to make sense of all he’d just heard. Yes it was far-fetched, and sounded completely crazy, but it was also the truth.

He rubbed his chin. “Are you afraid?”

“No. It hasn’t done anything to hurt me or Lea, so I think we’re safe.”

Sometime later as my parents were watching television one evening, they heard me babbling in my bed.

My mother sighed. “I don’t know why she won’t go down. Would you go in there and see what she’s up to?”

Dutifully, my father headed to my room and found me sitting up in bed speaking to no one he could see.

“What are you doing?” he asked, scanning the room.

I turned my head toward the doorway. “Talking to my friend.” Though I was just over a year old, I was an unusually early talker.

“Your friend?” he asked.

“Yes.” I smiled and glanced back at the empty space before me.

“Is your friend here?”

Nodding, I pointed directly in front of me. “Right there.”

He drew a deep breath. “Well, it’s time to go to sleep, so tell your friend you can see him in the morning.”

“Okay,” I answered as I lay down.

Over the next few months, the ghostly presence became a part of our little family. Eventually my father began to see it too, hovering in a corner between the living and dining rooms, its diaphanous appearance vanishing whenever he attempted to look at it straight on. If he had any doubts of the ghost’s existence, they evaporated the night he heard my Fisher Price toy xylophone tinkling out a distinct tune. Sure I’d gotten out of bed to strike the multi-colored keys with my wooden mallet, he charged into my room and found me sound asleep. The xylophone was deep in my toy box, well out of reach.

Not long after, as my nearly six-month pregnant mother reclined on the couch one evening, both she and my father saw the apparition hovering in the corner, but this time it appeared to linger longer than usual. It disappeared and a few seconds later, an eerie, cold sensation crawled across my mother’s body and the icy impression of a small hand clutched her foot.

It was the last time they ever saw or heard from the ghost again.

So what about you, readers? It’s one thing to think you may have a ghost in your house, it’s another to see it. Would you rather retain that comfortable distance (and plausible deniability), or would you prefer to confirm its existence with your own eyes?

Lea Nolan writes the kinds of stories she sought as a teen—smart paranormals with bright heroines, crazy-hot heroes, diabolical plot twists, plus a dose of magic, a draft of romance, and a sprinkle of history. She’s holds degrees in history and women’s studies concentrating in public policy and spent fifteen years as a health policy analyst and researcher. She lives
in Maryland with her heroically supportive husband and three clever children.

Her debut YA novel, CONJURE, book one in The Hoodoo Apprentice Series releases on October 23, 2012 from Entangled Publishing. In CONJURE, three teens discover a mysterious 18th-century pirate treasure and inadvertently unleash a wicked flesh-eating curse. To save her brother’s life and the soul of her unrequited secret-crush, Emma Guthrie must apprentice herself to an elderly Gullah root worker to learn hoodoo magic and break the hex.

Conjure by Lea Nolan
Publisher: Entangled Publishing (October 23rd, 2012)
Reading Level: Young Adult
Paperback: 314 pages
Series: The Hoodoo Apprentice, #1
Be careful what you search for…

Emma Guthrie expects this summer to be like any other in the South Carolina Lowcountry--hot and steamy with plenty of beach time alongside her best friend and secret crush, Cooper Beaumont, and Emma’s ever-present twin brother, Jack. But then a mysterious eighteenth-century message in a bottle surfaces, revealing a hidden pirate bounty. Lured by the adventure, the trio discovers the treasure and unwittingly unleashes an ancient Gullah curse that attacks Jack with the wicked flesh-eating Creep and promises to steal Cooper’s soul on his approaching sixteenth birthday.

When a strange girl appears, bent on revenge; demon dogs become a threat; and Jack turns into a walking skeleton; Emma has no choice but to learn hoodoo magic to undo the hex, all before summer—and her friends--are lost forever.

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive an ebook of Conjure, magnet, and a signed bookmark.
  

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 US Only and ends November 10th.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

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Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here. Don't forget to check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post for today!

This past weekend Dan and I traveled to Central Minnesota for my All School Reunion. We had quite the adventure.

After driving down dirt roads and following subtle signs we found our campground and camp site. After careful consideration of the best possible placement of our tent — we began to set up. As soon as we got the tent set up (and boy, are we NOT campers) a campground employee pulled up to tell us that we were in a tornado warning and that everyone should head to the bunker.

Now, this may sound ridiculous, but before heading to the bunker I had to grab my phone, and then my camera, and then my umbrella, and then my rain boots — just in case. By the time I had all the necessities — it began to rain.

Here's something you probably don't know about me. I hate the rain. I hate cold feet and frizzy hair. True story: from winter to spring I wear rain boots or snow boots every day... religiously. So my first reaction is to jump in the car. As soon as Dan gets in the car I hear this "THUD" and a second later we are bombarded with sheet after sheet of hail (round as a quarter!). I look over at our poor tent and it's still standing (thank goodness!) but neither Dan or I are quite sure what to do? Do we attempt driving to the bunker? Or is it best to stay put?

After a few moments of the deafening sound of hail hitting my car — we decide it's best to stay where we are then try to drive through it. I constantly look at the tent and (with luck) it remains standing. Twenty minutes later the hail and rain have subsided — but our camp site is flooded and (after braving the elements to check) so is our tent.

Needless to say, Dan and I ended up staying at a Holiday Inn. So much for our adventure!

The rest of the weekend flew by; on Friday night we went into Benson for the All School Reunion street dance and live bands at various venues. On Saturday we watched the parade, I posed for the All School Reunion Photo, and then we went to my dad's book signing at the library. It looked like rain so we decided to go to the local theaters free showing of "How to Train Your Dragon" — which was FANTASTIC by the way! After the show Dan, Brandon (BFF from High School), and I decided to go bowling — and wow am I awful! Shortly after that it began to storm (again!) and all of the outside activities were either canceled or no one showed up. So Dan and I headed back to our hotel in Morris to find that a Street Dance had been moved inside due to the weather! The night was not lost! We danced for a couple of hours before retiring (dry and tired).

It was a fantastic and exciting weekend overall and it was great to meet up with friends from high school.

Dan looking for the best spot to set up camp.

Securing our masterpiece

HAIL!

Flooded camp site

My mom and dad at his book signing

Very blurry picture of my parents and Dan and I at my dad's book signing

Dan and I at my dad's book signing

Dan's mad bowling skills

And you can blame these on Sheila for showing me how to use Picnik.

I'd like to welcome Preetham Grandhi as today's Guest Author.

A couple weeks ago Preetham was great enough to send me a copy of "A Circle of Souls" for review. The review will be up later tonight — and I can't wait for everyone to read it! But without further ado, please welcome Preetham Grandhi!

Mr. Preetham Grandhi, tell us about you.

Preetham: I was born and raised in Bangalore, in south India. I went
to Baldwin Boys high School, one of the old British schools in
Bangalore. Soon after high school I went to into medical school
followed by residency in America. After my graduation from the Child
Study Center at Yale, I have been the chief of service for House 5 at
Bronx Children’s Psychiatric Center. I am devoted to helping young
children gain insight into their emotional and behavioral needs and
empower them to maximize their inner potential. I also have a private
practice and reside in Westchester County, New York, with my family.
My wife has also just published her first cookbook titled "Spice up
your life: The flexitarian way," and our seven year old son presented
his first story at school titled, "Hal the howling monkey."

What was it like writing "A Circle of Souls"?

It was one of the most challenging things I have ever done and I
thought going to medical school was hard. Writing the book and more so
promoting the book is harder.

How long did it take you to write "A Circle of Souls"?

It took me four and a half years to write. I actually wrote the first
draft in 1 and half years, it took me the rest of the time to revise
over 15 times.

Where did the idea for this book come from?

It was a few months post 9/11, and I was looking at the biographies of
the people who had lost their lives. I began to wonder if there was a
larger meaning to their lives. All of a sudden, a story flashed into
my mind, and I quickly wrote it on a piece of paper. I knew then that
I needed to write a story that was larger than life. It needed to
communicate the essence that there is a bigger purpose and meaning to
our passage on earth.
I knew that in order to capture and convey such a message, the book
needed to be captivating, interesting, and thrilling. I realized that
a story based on the work I do would be the right place to begin. I am
a child psychiatrist and had just started a new job. During my
fellowship, I worked with children with numerous psychosocial issues
and had many life stories to tell. It was at that moment that I
decided I could write a book that would capture all these thoughts.
That was how A Circle of Souls was born.

Any advice for aspiring authors?

Never give up, anything is possible but you will never know it if you
don't do your half.

What are the most challenging and the most rewarding aspects of writing?

The hardest thing is writers block, especially if it lingers for weeks
on end. The most rewarding thing is when people read it and say they
like it.

If you could be any literary character, who would you be and why?

Tintin from the comic series, for all the adventures he has.

What is in your CD player/iPOD right now?

I like Paul Van Dyke, the rhythmic beats are very soothing and gets me
to the pace where I can begin to write.

Again, I'd like to thank Preetham Grandhi for stopping by and sending me "A Cirlce Of Souls" for review! Check out his website here. I'd like to pass on this book — but I don't know if I can part with it. But I still highly recommend you purchase it or look for it at your library.

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!

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!

"The mystery of the plot really kept my interest; there were times when I thought I had it all figured out (after the first initial twist) and then with the last eight chapters there was another twist! And then another! The end of the book was absolutely perfect — I laughed and I cried." — Miss Remmers

From Amazon.com...

"Haven Moore can't control her visions of a past with a boy called Ethan and a life in New York that ended in fiery tragedy. In our present, she designs beautiful dresses for her classmates with her best friend Beau. Dressmaking keeps her sane, since she lives with her widowed and heartbroken mother in her tyrannical grandmother's house in Snope City, a tiny town in Tennessee. Then an impossible group of coincidences conspire to force her to flee to New York, to discover who she is, and who she was.

In New York, Haven meets Iain Morrow and is swept into an epic love affair that feels both deeply fated and terribly dangerous. Iain is suspected of murdering a rock star and Haven wonders, could he have murdered her in a past life? She visits the Ouroboros Society and discovers a murky world of reincarnation that stretches across millennia. Haven must discover the secrets hidden in her past lives, and loves, before all is lost and the cycle begins again."

Why I read this: The cover really drew my attention in and then after reading the synopsis I knew I would love this novel.

Plot: It took me a while to warm up to the plot; in the beginning it was slow and I could really connect with the setting or characters. The plot also left a lot out, which adds to the mysteriousness, but frustrated me because 1/4 of the way into the book I figured I should have some idea of what was going on. With patience in check, by half way through the novel the plot thickened and deepened to a point where I couldn't put this novel down. I found myself rethinking reincarnation and wondering "what if" and thinking "how romantic." The mystery of the plot really kept my interest as well, there were times when I thought I had it all figured out (after the first initial twist) and then with the last eight chapters there was another twist! And then another! The end of the book was absolutely perfect — I laughed and I cried.

Characters: I did struggle with some of the characters and the amount of religion emphasized in this small community. Coming from a small Midwestern community, I understand how religion can play an important part of a community but I thought it was caked on pretty heavy throughout (especially) the beginning of this novel. I also struggled with Haven's back and forth mentality in regards to Iain. Speaking of Iain... loved him! I absolutely adored him... even when I really disliked him I enjoyed his character. A great character (in my opinion) is one who you can love and hate at the same time because of the depth of the character... this was Iain Morrow for me. Also, I just gotta say Adam definitely caught me unawares.

Cover: A very simple cover — but definitely cover love.

Random Thoughts: I'll admit it, I definitely googled the Ouroboros Society. I just can't get over how romantic it all is! To continue searching for "the one" for lifetimes. I would LOVE to see this novel as a movie.

Final Thoughts: This book was fantastic; I could not put it down and could not push it from my thoughts. I had about 100 pages left when school got out and read until I was able to leave (3:45) and then took it home with me. Dan was reading "Mockingjay" and when he began to shut his book so that we could "talk about our days" I begged him to continue reading. Together we sat side by side on our recliner and read. He saw me laugh, cry, and shout out in amazement over this book. He saw my despair when the novel was ending and I knew it wasn't going to end the way I wanted it to. He witnessed the small bit of hope that remained as I began reading the final chapter. And he held my hand when I shut the book and let out the sigh that goes along with the end of any great read. It's become a very fond memory that I think says a lot about our relationship and I'm so happy to say that it is a memory that involves this book.

Read it.

Originality: 10/10
Ending: 10/10
Characters: 8/10
Plot: 8/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 9/10
Theme: 10/10
Imagery: 10/10
Setting: 5/5
Voice: 4/5
Style: 5/5
Tone: 5/5
Cover: 10/10
Overall: 94/100 A

To the FTC, with love: Library Loan

Scary Debra
by
Debra Anastasia

I think ghosts have given up on me. Scary things too. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve seen a fair number of horrifying things. I shop in Wal-Mart on Saturdays. I think I may be too stupid to scare.

Okay, I’m actually here today because I have a crush on Jessica. Isn’t she adorable? I picture her walking around in real life but as her AV. The voluptuous cartoon on her header up there? I picture her walking into Starbucks all animated like Roger Rabbit in our boring world.

Anyway, none of that’s scary. And I’m here to talk about scary. What are you afraid of? Spiders, vampires? Ghosts? I’m here to give you a new bone-chilling fear.

Me.

That’s right. This blonde-headed, minivan-driving nimrod is the scariest thing to hit the planet. I’m a freaking nightmare. The fact that anyone ever lets me interact with the world is a statement to how little we control in this life.

I know what you’re thinking, she’s not scarier than a zombie. Oh yes, yes I am. Here’s a good example of how I torture unsuspecting people:

Our porch is being built by a nice, sweet builder guy. Well, yesterday I cranked a few windows open and proceeded to sift through our nonsense. (Long story longer: Our house was demolished by a huge oak one year ago, we’re moving into the rebuild now. Hence I‘m sifting through things that were salvaged by other people from my buckling old house, this includes years worth of paperwork I had ignored.) I came upon my colonoscopy results from about ten years ago. To joke with my long-suffering husband I called out, “Hey! Do you wanna see the inside of my colon?”

He looked at me with his handsome face and his gaze slide just over my right shoulder. His eyes grew wide and he shook his head.

I get a sinking feeling. That’s right, I shouted this with my builder guy standing just behind me with the window open. Actually, he was physically closer to me than the man I was trying to torment.

What do you say to fix that? I mean, really? I slid down in my chair into a puddle on the floor. I still blush thinking about it.

Scary. Right?

If that was the only story I had we could all have a nice chuckle and move on. But no, that’s one of hundreds. I’ve plodded through this life with no sense and no filter for over 38 years. I’ve procreated. Now granted, the son takes after the husband (lucky you) but the daughter? She’s a carbon copy. Actually she might be worse. So proud of those kids.

Anyway, back to scary. If seeing the inside of my colon doesn’t give you night terrors, I’ve got more where that came from. A few years back a poor, unfortunate soul sat next to me at a soccer game. She decided to make small talk. With me. You can already tell how this encounter was circling the drain, right?

The lady began telling me about a fancy restaurant she used to work in. She went on and on claiming it was super fancy, leave-the-kids-home-and-get-dressed-up kind of fancy. I nodded and tried to make some noise out of my mouth to show that I was paying attention.

I said,"So it’s real Ritsy Titsy?"

My brain had stalled. I couldn’t believe I’d just made up a word like “Titsy” and tried to pass it off in an adult conversation. So of course this has sent me into a fit of inappropriate giggles that --to my horror—became an all-out crying laughter, while slapping my knees and fart heckling. I could hardly breathe at my own embarrassment. For Pete's sakes. It's bad enough I’d said it. No need for the spectacle of me dissolving in to hysterics.

The poor lady just waited me out with a polite smile.

I’m not sure what’s worse, that I say the wrong thing at the wrong time or that I find my own embarrassment so damn funny.

How about we end today with this bone chiller:

I was cashing a check at the bank. Well, we have two banks. One’s not fancy. One is fancy. I was at the ritzy titsy one. It has high, luxurious ceilings. The tellers are separated from the customers by a thick, bulletproof plastic. Well, I’m assuming it’s bullet proof. It has air holes for the tellers. So this combination of things always makes me talk louder. I can’t help it. I feel that the barrier between us can only be over come by my outdoor voice.

It was a crowded line, full of rushing holiday shoppers who were ready to lubricate their wallets with some cash. I stepped up to the teller that was waiting for me. She smiled. And then she started chit-chatting about the holidays.

She was what I call a soft-to-softer talker. Well, she’s the first one I’ve met, but if I meet another, that’s what I’ll call them.

She started out soft volume speaking, and when she would get to the real point of her sentence her volume would drop off.

Until she was, as much as I can tell, just moving her lips.

I can’t read lips. Let’s be honest, most of us are amazed I can read at all. So I did what any blonde would do --I overcompensated. I also tried to emulate the behavior I wanted her to copy. Hence me cheerleading scream answers.

Me: “YES, I’M GOING SHOPPING!!!”

Soft talk teller: ”Are you going to Target? ”

Me: ”YES!”

Soft talker: ”I got mumble mumble for $5.00 at Target mumble mumble.”

Now, I love Target. I love a good sale there. As a matter a fact, I watch the Christmas markdowns like a highly skilled guerilla surveillance team member.

So I don’t care what she got for $5.00. If it was on sale, I wanted it.

Now, maybe I can blame my exhaustion. Or my own inability to be social through a wall of plastic but I said in my loudest voice;

Me: ”MAYBE I’LL POOP IN THERE LATER!!”

Oh my dog. Did I just scream, “poop?” The Bank was as silent as a smoke detector without batteries that might have gotten disemboweled by an angry mother witnessing her kids heading to the dinning room table after it went off.

I realize I can’t fix my faux pas without making it worse.

I had to just leave the poop out there. I’d just told a complete stranger and a line full of people in a really loud voice where I *might * be planning on having a bowel movement in the future instead of what I had intended. (Me: “Maybe I'll POP in there later!")

So what do I do? Do I pretend like it wasn’t said? (Which I’m sure was soft talker's dire wish!)

Oh no, that would be too simple. I start to laugh. I start cry-laughing at my own self. I laugh all the way out of the bank. Like an idiot.

So, I think in this month of scary, zombie babies hanging from swings in people’s yards (Holy crap! What’s up with those horror movie quality decorations in the strip malls?) we need to remember that I, Debra Anastasia, am the scariest thing ever. Well, except for spiders, hands (they look like spiders), mannequins (they have hands that look like spiders), and not having your foot under the blankets at night.

Boo!

Author Bio: Debra Anastasia is busy, just like every other mom. There’s dinner, the dogs, the kids, and their homework. The laundry pile turns into a big, heaping monster. When the clothes finally make it into the washer, it gets unbalanced and puts on an elaborate show before it cuts out. This crazy job that never ends is her first love and her crowning achievement.

Her writing started a decent handful of years ago when along with the dogs, cat, kids, and husband, the voices of characters started whispering stories in Debra’s ear. Insomnia was the gateway for the plots that wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t let go. In the shower, a twist would take hold and–dripping and frenzied–she’d find somewhere, anywhere to write it down.

Debra grew up in New York and got a bachelor’s degree in political science at SUNY New Paltz. At the start of her marriage, she moved to southern Maryland with her husband. She still doesn’t trust crabs and all their legs, though everyone else in her family thinks they’re delicious. Her favorite hobbies include knitting, painting furniture and wall murals, and slapping clowns.

Bittersweet Seraphim, the sequel to her debut novel, Crushed Seraphim will be released Nov. 20th, 2012 and she’s currently working on Return to Poughkeepsie, the sequel to Poughkeepsie. You can visit her website at DebraAnastasia.com and find her on twitter @Debra_Anastasia.

Crushed Seraphim by Debra Anastasia
Published: Omnific Publishing (May 27th, 2011)
Reading Level: 17+
Paperback: 194 pages
How does a foul-mouthed angel end up as the last hope for all of Heaven and Earth?

When Seraph Emma is maimed and tossed from Heaven by a rogue angel who's taken charge, she fears she'll never be allowed to return. Tasked with the impossible job of showing the self-loathing (and not even human!) Jason his worth, Emma is sure she's doomed to fail.

Meanwhile, having wormed his way into Heaven, the corrupt Everett has trapped God in Hell and has designs on unleashing evil everywhere. Fortunately, if there's one thing Emma can't do (in addition to minding her language), it's give up. Determined to save Jason and get back to Heaven-even if it means going to Hell-Emma's plan is simple yet impossible: trick the Devil to save God.

What she doesn't count on is the devotion and, well, humanity she finds in Jason; the spirit, hidden compassion, and raw sex appeal within the Devil; and the vulnerability of her own heart. With the help of two unlikely allies, she'll wage the battle for Heaven. But will Emma be sidetracked by a new sort of heaven along the way?

What's truly more dangerous?

Falling from Heaven, or falling in love?

Prize:

• 1 winner will receive everything above! Books, cards, tattoos and the cutest bracelets EVER!

• 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 1st.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Website | Twitter | Goodreads | Facebook | Blog

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Omnific

Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry!

"
I was completely brought into this novel by the suspenseful writing, 'life-like' characters, and the riveting plot." — Miss Remmers

Release Date: April 5th, 2011
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Challenges: 2011 eBook Challenge and 100+ Reading Challenge

"Clara’s relationship with Christian is intense from the start, and like nothing she’s ever experienced before. But what starts as devotion quickly becomes obsession, and it’s almost too late before Clara realizes how far gone Christian is—and what he’s willing to do to make her stay.

Now Clara has left the city—and Christian—behind. No one back home has any idea where she is, but she still struggles to shake off her fear. She knows Christian won’t let her go that easily, and that no matter how far she runs, it may not be far enough... "

Okay, this "Stay" is another victim of me not reading the synopsis before reading the book. I began this book with no prior knowledge of it's plot and as a result was extremely surprised and enthralled. Immediately just by the tone of the book I knew something was amiss and I had to find out exactly what happened. I started picking up on the subtle clues and began to dissect and over-analyze every line.

The pacing of this novel was perfect; I wanted to know what had happened but I never felt like there was a dull moment. I waited for the "ah-ha" moment but my need to understand it was satiated a bit more with each chapter until the "big reveal." Part of this was due to the Deb Caletti's flawlessly elegant and thought-provoking language. I mean, really, on page 10 I was already thinking: "Man, I wish I had a hard copy to put sticky notes and even (God forbid) highlight in!"

I was completely brought into this novel by the suspenseful writing, "life-like" characters, and the riveting plot. It may be due to the fact that I am currently teaching Romeo and Juliet and have to teach each scene five times (five periods of English 9) and that my mind is just enveloped by R&J, but a lot of the bookmarks I made were because I wanted to share them with my students. They are currently struggling with how quickly Romeo and Juliet fell in love and I think that "Stay" describes that kind of "love" so perfectly.

It was also a bit sobering as before I met my Prince Charming I dated a few duds (emphasis on few). While reading "Stay" I remembered my first boyfriend at the age of 16 and saw some definite similarities to that relationship and Clara and Christian's. The jealousy, the rage, the anger, but most importantly the fear of being left and the addiction and obsession that came with my first "love." I remember editing myself, like Clara, in front of this boyfriend out of fear of his reaction. Like Clara, I have been addicted to love and lost myself in that obsession.

I think that "Stay" is the perfect read for any high school student and, after my book talk yesterday in class, I hope that many of my students go and pick up this book after it's release next week. When reading Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet they roll their eyes and say "that never happens in real life." While I pray that they are never in a situation like Clara or even a relationship similar to the one I had, I think it's important that they realize that this does happen but it doesn't always have to have a tragic ending.

Quick note: I think I would have really enjoyed the annotations (as that's how I tend to write, think, and talk) but on an eReader it was hard to follow.

Final Quick Note: When I was looking at Deb's website I realized that the characters are linked! I think that is SO cool — Nine Miles Falls!!! It reminds me of the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Originality: 10/10
Ending: 10/10
Characters: 9/10
Plot: 10/10
My reaction/enjoyment: 9/10
Cover: 7/10
Overall: 55/60 A

Because the language of this novel was caught my attention first and left me analyzing Shakespeare and my life, I'd like to share a few of my favorite quotes found in the ARC Galley. Please remember that any of these quotes are subject to change in the actual published novel.

"But something had already been set in motion, and I wonder and wonder how things would have been if I'd have just let that moment pass, the one where our eyes met. If I had just taken Shakti's arm and moved off, letting the electrical jolt that passed between us fade off, letting the girl return to his side, letting fate head off in another direction entirely... " (10-11).

"I had already made him into someone he would never be, and I didn't know it then, but he was already doing the same with me" (12).

"Dad was a priss about jaywalking... Or maybe he just liked to stare down what he'd testily call the "grammatical error sanctioned by the state." There is, of course, no apostrophe in the DONT WALK sign" (43).

"I tended to give a book chance and another chance and another, sometimes seeing it al the way to the end, still hoping for it to turn out different. Maybe I was confused about what you owed a book. What you owed people, for that matter, real or fictional" (49). Talk about a blogging reference!!

"I tried to read that book again before I went to sleep. I didn't like that book, but I kept going for all the reasons a person hangs in with something that isn't good — you feel bad about not giving it a chance, you've already come too far to give up now, you believe it's going to get better" (77).

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

To the FTC, with love: Galley for Review

Well okay, "down south" may be an exaggeration since technically Kentucky and Missouri are part of the Midwest. But this concept is completely odd to me. Growing up in South Dakota and Minnesota I've always believed THIS was the Midwest! But now that I think about it, that area of the US is probably better suited towards the category.

I'm still working this out.

Anyway, last Wednesday I left to visit Travis in Louisville, KY, where he is a strength and conditioning coach/intern at the University of Louisville. Because he literally works from 5:15am until 7pm (ish) I got a lot of reading done. I finished "Dead Until Dark" on the plane Wednesday night and "Before I Fall" during the day on Thursday.

On Friday, Travis took me to campus. While he finished up working I hung out at the most amazing college library I've seen (not that I've seen a TON — but still) and read most of Sea by Heidi Kling (released this week).

Then we headed towards the Jim Patterson stadium to watch baseball. I, of course, got a HUGE kick out of this. I have no idea who Jim Patterson was/is and what he accomplished — but I do know of a certain JAMES PATTERSON. So I had a bit of a nerdy moment and had to take photographic evidence.

The game that we were there to watch (University of Louisville and St. Louis University) was delayed by a prior game (that went into 14 innings) and I may or may not have just been dying to find out what happens in the last couple pages of Sea... so:

On Saturday Travis and I left for St. Louis for a wedding. I didn't know the couple so I didn't take any wedding pictures — but here's one of the two of us in downtown St. Louis. Travis attended SLU during his undergrad so he was like my own private tour guide. And YES I saw the star of T.S. Eliot! I almost DIED!

On Sunday Travis and I went to Kirkwood Park in St. Louis for a handball match (he played, I read). This park was absolutely beautiful! I was just in poetic awe the entire day. I strolled around the park, got some sun, enjoyed the outdoors, and began reading Hush Hush.

Before we left for Louisville, Travis took me to see the Arch (which I really think should be pronounced arck — but whatever).

I flew out from Louisville on Monday around 9am, but because Travis had to be into work by 5:15 I was at the airport pretty early, which is where I read most of Hush Hush. I finished half way through my first flight (I had a lay over in Michigan). When I landed, I looked for Living Dead in Dallas and to my horror discovered that instead of grabbing Sookie #2 and packing Sookie #1, I reversed it! Thankfully my lay over and second flight weren't that long — but I was still a bit disappointed.

When I arrived in Minneapolis and headed for home I realized that I lead a pretty lucky life. It's only the middle of June and I've done tons of traveling and I continue to keep that up for the rest of the summer (although I'm not planning any more plane trips — yet). I also realized that I may or may not be addicted to technology.

Packed with me for this weekend trip was my laptop (and charger), GPS, Blackberry (and charger), digital camera* (with charger and computer adapter), iTouch (and charger), and old iPod** (it's attached to my car so I guess it didn't come WITH me... but still). This is quite a bit of technology in one little car. Part of me is a bit ashamed of how connected I am, but I sincerely love it this way. I could do without (and have), but I love this modern life.

Besides all of the technology I packed, I also packed a lot of books because I knew I'd have time to read. I packed Hush Hush, Sea, Dead Until Dark, and Before I Fall. I ended up buying Living Dead in Dallas in Louisville because I knew I'd finish all of the books I'd brought with me. I also packed The Four Agreements and The Paradox of Choice as gifts for Travis so my bag was a bit lighter on the way home — but not a lot.

After realizing how many books I actually packed, do I consider getting an eReader? Not quite yet. I'm still waiting for Google to come up with an eReader and for the libraries to jump on board. But soon... very soon. I can feel it in my bones.

That's it for this week's travels. I leave Friday for Sioux Falls, SD where I've got TWO weddings in one day — it's going to be a great day. Thanks for following my Summer 2010 travels!

* Not shown because I was obviously using it to take the photo.
** Not shown

Debra Anastasia is here today to talk about her adult title, Poughkeepsie. I've read this book and I just gotta say… WOW! It's incredible!

Debra has been kind enough to offer up a great giveaway (sign up below) for US and International readers.

Poughkeepsie has a very emotional plot. Can you tell us what inspired this story and the main characters?
The plot was very organic. Actually, I originally thought the whole story would take place on the train station platform. So it would have been centered on only the two lead characters. But when Blake takes Livia into his world, I knew we would meet some interesting people. Beckett was a scariest to write, I never knew what he was going to say next. Interestingly, the thought of a homeless hero harkened back to a trip to New York City with friends when I was a teenager. A homeless man approached us and asked for money for lunch. We walked past ignoring the beggar, as we were taught to do by our parents. I put my hand in my pocket and realized I had five dollars. I turned around and ran back and handed him the money. He looked up and smiled so big, it put tears in my eyes. When I got back to my group of friends they teased me for the rest of the day, but there was a connection when he had smiled at me. That gentleman made me realize that he was not something to avoid, but a person. So when writing a story about an impossible love, I remembered him and thought about that connection.
Did you have any images in mind when you were creating Blake and Livia or did you just start writing?

I’m very visual when I write, so when I began writing about the train station, I picked the pretty one that is close to my in-laws. It’s the Rhinecliff station near Rhinebeck, New York. But when I thought about Livia’s commute, the commuter train doesn’t come all the way to Rhinecliff from the city – its last stop is Poughkeepsie. I was very relived when we drove by the Poughkeepsie station and I remembered how gorgeous it was.

The tattoo the three main boys have became a real symbol for their brotherly connection. I have two designs, one by Steve Zap and the other by Shannon Lumetta. I loved the tattoo so I was thrilled when it was placed on the cover of Poughkeepsie. Four readers have actually gotten the tattoo on their real bodies! I’m going to have to do something really special for them. I guess I’ll have to get it too as soon as I find my courage. One of the things I did for fun was have the tattoos made into temporary tats. So I’ve worn both designs, technically. I toss a few in as swag for anyone that gets their book or bookplate signed. (There are a few tats in this giveaway!)

The other huge symbol for me is the Cardboard Piano that Blake carries with him. I loved how a simple piece of cardboard could mean so much. When I was preparing to make the trailer, (with tremendous help from my author friend Carol Oates) I looked for pictures of a keyboard drawn on cardboard everywhere on the Internet with no luck. Then I decided to stinking make it myself. My husband drew the keys on and we took it to the train station for some pictures. Now, the piano is on a world tour! Readers are sending it to one another and taking pictures. It’s adorable and really fun.

So as far as actors in my head, I pictured Jonas Armstrong as Blake Hartt (the music clef in the tattoo). I fell for him in the BBC version of Robin Hood. He’s got a great, deep smolder:

For Cole Bridge (the cross), my tortured, would-be priest, I found Jesse Williams was a perfect fit. His eyes look endless and deep, just like Cole.

And for Beckett Taylor (the knife), the big ol’ pimp, I’ve got Daniel Conn picked out. Actually, he’s not an actor but a rugby player. Half of the images on Google have him with a bloody face, so he’s even more perfect. I would have never found him if it wasn’t for my friend Jess at Book Passion for Life! She showed me a picture and I was sold.
Bookaholic ETA:"HOLY CRAP. He's hot!"
Can you share with us a few of your favorite lines from the book?

Sure! I’ll find some clean ones for you.
“When you saw me? You saw me. And then you smiled at me like I was the same as everyone else on that platform.” (From Blake)
“It was like he’d just discovered fire, and she was the main ingredient.” (From Cole)

“Blake took her face in his hands. “You let me touch you. Kiss you. Your skin? It feels like piano keys. My hands know just where to go.” (Blake again)

“You make the rest of the beautiful things in the world cry for even trying at all. You make it hard for me to breathe.” (awww, from Blake)
Beckett’s quotes are too dirty for primetime, but he has some great one-liners.
Are you currently working on any other books we can look forward to seeing?
Yes! I’m currently writing my first book’s (Crushed Seraphim) sequel. Then I have a few I’d really love to get to. I have a superhero story and a hotel romance banging around in my head. I’ve had a few requests for a Poughkeepsie sequel, so I’m hashing out a plot for that one as well.
Thank you so much Jessica for having Poughkeepsie and I on your blog!

Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia
Publisher: Omnific Publishing (November 22nd, 2011)
Adult: 17+
Paperback: 384 pages
He counts her smiles every day and night at the train station. And morning and evening, the beautiful commuter acknowledges him—just like she does everyone else on the platform. But Blake Hartt is not like the others.. he’s homeless. Memories of a broken childhood have robbed him of peace and twisted delusions into his soul. He stays secluded from the sun, sure the world would run from him in the harsh light of day.

Each day, Livia McHugh smiles politely and acknowledges her fellow commuters as she waits for the train to the city. She dismisses this kindness as nothing special, just like her. She’s the same as a million other girls—certainly no one to be cherished. But special or not, she smiles every day, never imagining that someone would rely on the simple gesture as if it were air to breathe.

When the moment comes that Livia must do more than smile, without hesitation she steps into the fray to defend the homeless man. And she's surprised to discover an inexplicable connection with her new friend. After danger subsides, their smiles become conversation. Their words usher in a friendship, which awakens something in each of them. But it’s not long before their bond must prove its strength. Entanglements from the past challenge both their love and their lives.

Blake’s heart beats for Livia’s, even if her hands have to keep its rhythm. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love never fails. Love never fails, right?

Prize:

• 1 US winner will receive a copy of Poughkeepsie, 2 temp. tattoos, a train schedule, and a bracelet!

• 2 INTERNATIONAL winners will receive the ebook copy.

• You must be at least 17 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/International and ends March 5th.
• Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
• The form must be filled out to enter.

Website | Twitter | Goodreads | Facebook | Blog

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Omnific

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.

"Whenever I was going to put this book down to do something productive, I found the chapter that I was about put down too seductive to release indefinitely." — Miss Remmers

Release Date: November 1st, 2011
Publisher: Dutton Juvenile
Challenges: Off the Shelf, 100+ Reading Challenge, Dystopia Challenge

"In search of a future that may not exist and faced with the decision of who to share it with, Cassia journeys to the Outer Provinces in pursuit of Ky — taken by the Society to his certain death — only to find that he has escaped, leaving a series of clues in his wake.
Cassia's quest leads her to question much of what she holds dear, even as she finds glimmers of a different life across the border. But as Cassia nears resolve and certainty about her future with Ky, an invitation for rebellion, an unexpected betrayal, and a surprise visit from Xander — who may hold the key to the uprising and, still, to Cassia's heart — change the game once again. Nothing is as expected on the edge of Society, where crosses and double crosses make the path more twisted than ever."
It feels like this review has been a long time coming. As many of you know, last year at BEA 2011 this was the prize book that was stolen — the one book I was really upset about. I'm over it and have moved — but it was still bitter sweet opening this book again for the first time. You see, after receiving this book I went to stand in line somewhere else and I began to read it while in line. But when I realized I was behind a blogger I knew, I put it in my bag of books instead of my purse. That movement still haunts me — if only I had put the book in my purse (to be read later)! But anyway, the past is the past and I've finally completed this book.

Sorry for the poor quality — Blackberry photo

I couldn't contain my excitement!
Lately, "Matched" and "Crossed" have been on my mind for other reasons (you know, rather than their awesomeness). Last month I talked about Cursive: The Lost Art Form and how I connected the loss of creativity to a not-so distant dystopia. And now, as I've finished "Crossed," I have so many more thoughts and questions.

First of all, it took me a long time to get into this book but I think it's mostly because I didn't really remember what went on at the end of "Matched." I read "Matched" in September 2010, that's a long time to remember something. I trudged through the murky remembrance of details (on my part) and slowly the story came back to me. A few times I had to rely on the help of Twitter friends to sift through the details (such as: what did the three pills stand for?). This didn't completely put me off this book (as it was more my fault than fault of the book's) but I wish (unrealistically) I could have remembered more prior to starting "Crossed."

Once the details came back to me, I couldn't put this book down. I finished it in a day while my students had meetings with the counselors in regards to college preparation (talk about a great day!). I will mention that the last chapter of this book did completely baffle me — I'm assuming the ambiguity was purposeful. But I still felt like I was missing something and that it didn't necessary flow well with the rest of the novel.

As for the characters and plot, there were enough surprises and twists to keep each chapter exciting. Whenever I was going to put this book down to do something productive, I found the chapter that I was about put down too seductive to release indefinitely. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I can't wait for the final installment of this novel.

Also, anyone but me hoping the final novel cover will be red to continue the theme? But if it is, what can that mean!?!?!

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

To the FTC, with love: Loved and Bought

Well, ladies and gentlemen yesterday concluded the guest Wedding Weeks posts. Huge thanks to Beth, Lorren, Shanyn, and Michelle for all the hard work and time that went into writing those posts and hunting down those pictures. I am so glad to join such a great group of women who can say that they are married and had amazing wedding days.

D's surpise Grooms' Cake. D is a fan of the Red Sox whereas I prefer the Twins. It reads: Together We Have A Ball.
As many of you know, I've had quite a crazy couple months. During the month of May I finished my first year of teaching, found a teaching job in North Dakota, bought a house in North Dakota, attended BEA, and moved. After BEA (as in the Monday after) I moved the 7 hours north and began the tedious practice of unpacking. The following Monday (June 6th — the Monday before the wedding) I began teaching summer school.

You'd never believe that the whole ferris wheel thing was my idea
Summer school has proven to be a bit more work than I had anticipated. I have 25 students for four hours a day — the same 25 students. So basically not only are we covering four different lessons a day (almost a week worth of classes) but I am also challenged to remain interesting that long (and, really, who can be interesting THAT long). So the first two days were extremely stressful — but thank goodness I had a great substitute who came in Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of my Wedding Week.

On Wednesday two of my best friends (a personal attendant and a Matron of Honor) came to visit and help out. This was much needed as D left (the state) for his Bachelor Party on Wednesday morning*. Mary and Puffer ran around Bismarck with me constantly getting things off my To Do list. I owe a lot to these two amazing people — Thank You!

On Thursday we had the dress rehearsal. In retrospect everything went flawless, but when I was living it I was a hot mess. A matron of honor (I had two) and a bridesmaid got lost and were late, I didn't have a slip for my dress and it was apparently see through (Mom ran to Target), D's family got him a shirt that had a bride and groom on it with the groom having a ball and chain saying GAME OVER (I was perhaps being a bit overly sensitive), the priest refused to run through it twice (we didn't get to hear the music until the wedding day), and the list goes on. But it all worked out in the end and really, I had forgotten most of those details already.

After dinner we noticed that the very small amusement park next door to us was open (despite the flood warnings) and that it was completely empty. So, bridesmaids and groomsmen in tow, we all boarded the ferris wheel. It was a great photo opportunity and it gave D and I a chance to talk alone — the only one on one time we had Thursday and Friday. It also holds special meaning to us because it was the amusement park where D took me last summer after we had started dating.

All in all, this day was a complete success. Tomorrow stop by for perhaps the final post of Wedding Week showcasing (obviously) my wedding day!

* I told D that if he wasn't back by 4:30 on Thursday evening (dress rehearsal was at 5pm) I could make no guarantees that I'd be walking down that isle on Friday.:)

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:

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 @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.