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Book tours - Cover Reveal  Release date - Street Team

J'ai découvert le monde des Book Tours et j'aime vraiment beaucoup car ça nous permet de découvrir des nouveaux auteurs et les nouveaux livres d'auteurs déjà connus. Voici ceux auxquels j'ai participé ou auxquels je participerai bientôt.

I discover the world of the Book Tours and I really like it because it allows me to discover new authors and new books from authors already known. Here are the tours in which I participate and the one that I will participate in.

Commentaires - Comments

Two breaths too late Cover Reveal from Rochelle Maya Callen

8/4/2014

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Two Breaths Too Late
Rochelle Maya Callen
Young Adult
9.10.14 (World Suicide Prevention Day)
www.RochelleMayaCallen.com 





Ellie Walker is a high school senior who commits suicide and then is forced to face the brokenness she leaves behind. 


EXCERPT:
1.

Death,

You aren't a tunnel of light, a choir of angels, or even an ascension of the soul. You are a twitching leg, a spasm of breath, a moment of fear when I realize that the noose I tied didn't snap my neck and I am left dangling with the chair tipped over too far from my toes. You are blackness blotting out my vision, my lungs heaving in breaths that aren't there, because the rope cuts into my throat choking the life out of me, slowly. 

Too slowly.

My fingers claw at the rope that I found in the closet behind liquor bottles and expired cans of vegetables. Life seeps out of me; the oxygen choked out, the carbon dioxide choked in. Where was the peace and quiet? Where was the release? The absence of fear? That is why I hid the rope under my mattress, why I waited till mom and dad left for work, why I climbed on a chair and tied the noose, why I wrapped it around my neck and pulled it tight, said a prayer, squeezed my eyes shut, and stepped off the chair. 
Leaving the screams, the bruises, the scars, the secrets and loneliness behind.

But you aren't taking me away.

I am suffocating in silent screams and the smell of ash. The floor is too far and I am too high. My chest caves in and just as blackness eats my last sliver of being conscious, I realize I regret. I realize I am too late. Death, you aren't beautiful or free or romantic like in all of the novels I have read. You are a girl who had no hope left, dangling from a ceiling beam who, two breaths too late, realized she wanted to live.

I thought you would save me, Death. 
But you are a liar.
Just like everyone else.


The Day He Died...
A Message from the Author of Two Breaths Too Late.


 He was about 6 when I met him. He was my new friend's younger brother and all long limbs, brown hair, and big brown eyes. He had one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen.

 The kid was brilliant. He read constantly. Loved learning. By 11, he was taking college classes. Languages. Science. His mind was a powerful beast that conquered many subjects. We all knew he would do amazing things with the brilliance he had within him.

 He would shine. He would soar.

 We were all ready and waiting to see it happen. We all grew up. I went to college. Gradated. Got married. He became a handsome teenager and was still wining over hearts (everyone loved him and that big smile). He joined a church band. Got his associates degree before 15. He had friends and a family who loved him.

 Then one night, he ran out of his house—€派is parents running after him—€杯o the bridge that went over highway 95...and jumped.

 As a mother, I can't imagine that moment—€杯hat split second when you are looking at your child and his feet are solidly on the ground and he is so close to being within reach and that defining, heart breaking moment when he isn't any longer.

 He was 19.

 I heard the news by phone while standing in my kitchen. The shock rendered me breathless. What had happened to this brilliant young man? We found out later that he had been recently diagnosed with schizophrenia and after watching his brother have a fierce battle with the illness, he couldn't find the hope to live on.

 His family had everyone wear brightly colored shirts and his band played at the funeral. The music was joyous and beautiful and people hugged and danced as pictures of his beautiful smile were projected onto a huge screen.

 It had been the week of Easter. It was a beautiful celebration of his life—€蚤 life that ended far too soon.

We have all suffered loss in some way. We know the ache. The feeling of too much space because something or someone is supposed to be there to fill it.

 The loss of someone to suicide happens everyday. Every minute. It is estimated that worldwide nearly a million people take their own lives. One million fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters who are lost because they had no hope left.

 The day I found out about this brilliant young man's suicide, I was brought back to a moment years earlier, when I was 11 years old and standing on a chair with a noose dangling in front of me. I had stepped down from that chair that day—€播espite bruises, pain, loneliness, and secrets—€蚤nd lived. Lived to see heart breaks, awards won, graduations, friendships, jobs, and a million other happy and terrible moments. Ugly or perfect, those moments were mine and there I stood in my kitchen with my round and pregnant belly and listened as my mother told me the news about a boy who had all those moments taken away.

 Almost a year ago, I posted a flash fiction piece I had written about suicide and a reader contacted me and said that I should write a novel based on it. I was intimidated. Scared. How could I take on something like that? It hit such a personal chord with me that I thought I might unravel in its creation.

 I am not going to lie. This novel always brings tears to my eyes. Not because I am a literary genius or a masterful story-teller, but because with every word I write and second that passes, I know there is someone out there who is deciding to give up on on their beautiful and terrible moments and my heart breaks and I wish I could type faster, or yell louder, or reach out and squeeze every single one of those one million souls and whisper, “€廩old on...just a little longer.”€・br />
 This novel isn't about happy endings. It isn't about happily-ever-afters. It is about the beautiful and terrible moments that make up a life and the possibilities that live in even the darkest of places that sometimes we are just too blind to see. I will use a portion of the proceeds from this novel to donate to To Write Love On Her Arms as well as launch a suicide prevention project entitled, HoldOn2Hope.

The project will launch in September. If all goes well, there will be a LIVE event for teens in the DC metro area as well as the project's online media awareness component will last a full year. My heart is in this project and I know that a project like this needs a ton of love and support to thrive.

 That's where you come in. I hope together we can change this staggering statistic. I send you love and light today. Please know that you are precious in this big 'ol world and it would not be as bright or beautiful without you in it.
 XOXO,
Rochelle


*Website will be LIVE on Sept 1st.*





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My Soul for You Cover Reveal by Airicka Phoenix

1/24/2014

1 Commentaire

 
Title: My Soul For you
Author: Airicka Phoenix
Publisher: Fire & Ice Publishing
Release Day: March 7, 2014
Genre: New Adult Contemporary, Thriller with strong elements of Romance
Warnings: Language and sexual content
Formats: eBook & Paperback
Other Novels: http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM
Buying Locations: To Come Soon
Author Bio:
Best-Selling author Airicka Phoenix lives in rainy British Columbia with her beautiful family. When she's not pounding away at the keyboard, she can be found reading, shining her collection of daggers or chilling with her kids. She is the author of the Touch Saga, The Sons of Judgment Saga, The Lost Girl Series, and Games of Fire. Airicka also writes adult paranormal & contemporary romance under her alter ego, Morgana Phoenix. Her first novel, Capture Me, will be out 2014. For more about Airicka, visit her website at: http://airickaphoenix.com/Author/
Stalker Links:
Author Website: http://airickaphoenix.com/Author/
Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Airicka-Phoenix/252135634831614
Touch Series Page: https://www.facebook.com/TouchSeriesByAirickaPhoenix?ref=hl
Design Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Airickas-Mystical-Creations/462373910480084Morgana Phoenix Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Morgana-Phoenix/148839731972606
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/AirickaPhoenix  
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/AirickaPhoenix
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM
LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/airicka-phoenix/40/432/74
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/Search?query=Airicka%20Phoenix&fcsearchfield=Author
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/airickaphoenix/
Barns & Nobles: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/airicka-phoenix
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For Christmas' Sake Cover Reveal by Tyffani Clark Kemp

12/16/2013

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Rozaline doesn't know it, but her pet shelter is in trouble. Her benefactor is ready to pull out, but instead of telling her, he's orchestrated one last hurrah to give her enough money to last through the next year. That's where super famous celebrity Charles Roulette comes in. His fans will pay to go on a date with him, in turn, the money he raises will go to Rozaline's shelter.

But there's a catch.

Because she owns the shelter, Rozaline can't enter to win. Mina, Rozaline's roommate and best friend and the daughter of the man ready to cut her loose, can. Her father pays to get Mina four dates with Charles.

The price of betrayal? One hundred thousand dollars.

Charles, however, only has eyes for one woman. Are years of friendship enough to transcend the betrayal of a lifetime? Who gets the man? And, for Christmas' sake, what happens to the puppies?
Here is the 'Nice' Edition Cover! And below we have the 'Naughty' Edition! 




About the Author-
Tyffani Clark Kemp has been writing since she discovered in the sixth grade that it wasn’t enough just to read about fantastic places, but she could create her own. She weaves small bits of herself into everything she writes whether it be a science fiction piece about aliens or a dramatic romance fraught with conflict and love. She lives in South Carolina with her family and her fluffy shii tzu-mix dog who thinks he’s a Saint Bernard.
      
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Riley by TJ and Rita Webb Cover Reveal

12/11/2013

1 Commentaire

 
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Book Info:

Title: Riley 

Authors: TJ and Rita Webb


Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance

Expected Release Date: Summer 2014



Synopsis:

The Operative: Riley, a.k.a. The Doppelganger

Her Target: a half-dragon bodyguard

Her Mission: to infiltrate a group of sorcerers in South Dakota



Forget the fact Riley doesn’t have a soul or even a real body. As a magical construct, she is damn useful: she can take any humanoid shape, she’s immune to magical fear, and nobody can read her mind. Perfect when her target is a telepathic half-dragon guarding an elite base.



But Dare isn’t the easy target she expected. He’s fierce. Loyal. Smart. And Stubborn. Facing off against one of the Usurper’s most trusted soldiers might be more than she bargained for.



Especially when her heart and her fate hang in the balance.




About Rita & TJ Webb

Our adventure started with a camping trip and a bottle of whiskey. Apparently Rita is a scary monster, and TJ needed liquid courage to give her that first kiss.



When not fighting over who gets to read our favorite books first, we’re swapping kisses and movie quotes in the kitchen.



Together, we home-school our three girls, who keep us busy with art, science projects, books to read, dance classes, and walks about the park.





Contact:

Facebook.com/TJandRita

Twitter @TJandRita

goodreads.com/RitaWebb


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Cover Reveal - A Secret Fate by Susan Griscom (A Whisper Cape #3)

7/5/2013

1 Commentaire

 


Title: A Secret Fate (A Whisper Cape Novel, Book 3)
Author: Susan Griscom
Publisher: Amber Glow Books
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: Fall 2013
Add it to your to read list.Goodreads  

Synopsis:
Book three in the Whisper Cape Series.

Gerry, Addie and Cael almost captured Careen’s murderer but lost Cael in the battle. Is he alive? If so, will he return? And the bigger question, thanks to Gerry's handiwork, will Cael remember Addie? Is their love lost with him?

Addie’s family and friends think she should keep her relationship with Cael a secret from him so he isn't forced into feelings he can't remember. Just what she needs, more secrets and on top of everything else, someone stole the crystal. How is she supposed to get over the loss of her lover, a lover she'd barely had for only a few short months and deal with the secret of the lost crystal at the same time?

Aiden wants nothing more than to help Addie overcome her grief and get over Cael. Or is that all he wants? What happens when too many people know the secret and someone slips up? 

An unedited Excerpt from A Secret Fate
 For the umpteenth time, over the past two weeks, Addie recited the words over and over again in her head, begging, pleading, Cael, please remember me. Please remember you love me.
Dragging her useless, helpless, and now rail-thin of a frame from the bed—their bed, his bed—she stumbled into the bathroom, hardly recognizing the person in the mirror. The sunken, dark eyes, her indented cheekbones, only made her brown eyes look larger and more recessed, giving her face a hollow look. Well, that was fine, now her face matched her hollow and empty soul.
She couldn’t work, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Gerry threatened to give her job to Darcy permanently if she didn’t snap out of it and get her rear end into the bar soon. She didn’t care. Why should she? Let Darcy have the damn job. She didn’t need it. She had her trust fund, didn’t she? She couldn’t face going in there, seeing all those people, everyone asking how she was getting along … without Cael—the unspoken part of the sentence. Well, how the hell did they think she was? She just lost the man she loved. Lost her dad the year before. Who would be next? Who would she lose next? Maia? The Twins who weren’t even born yet? Unthinkable. But, as the old saying went, bad things happened in threes. Maybe if she stayed home, away from other people, nobody else would die or disappear. Her family, friends, they’d all taken turns checking in on her, Darcy one day, Maia another. Gerry, Cael’s uncle Bart even stopped by. Someone, once a day would come knocking on her door, trying to coax her out of the house. “Not ready,” she’d say. “I need time.” How much time would it take? How much time does a person normally require before they learn to cope with the loss of a loved one? Learn to cope? She didn’t want to learn to cope. Addie hadn’t had much time with Cael to begin with. She felt cheated. Resentful and cheated that she didn’t get to love and enjoy her soul mate for any longer than only a few short months. According to Maia, Cael and Addie were fated. She and Cael had joked, laughing about it being a secret fate because of Addie’s secluded and sheltered childhood. Well, fate was cruel, wasn’t it?

About Susan
Susan Griscom daydreams often. And sometimes her daydreams interfere with her daydreams not to mention real life. Because, let’s face it, her character’s lives are so much more exciting. Sometimes it’s young adult or new adult or just plain old mainstream fiction and sometimes it’s paranormal romance, where her playing field delves into a different milieu than the usual vampires and werewolves. Some day she might write about fangs and fur, but for now she prefers sticking to strong heroes and heroines confronted with extraordinary forces of nature, powers and abilities beyond the norm, mixed with a little romance to get the blood boiling.
Susan lives in the Sierra Foothills in Northern California with her very romantic husband, her small yippy dog, Riley, and her humongous black cat, Saké. Her family consists of his and hers; four wonderful sons and one beautiful daughter, and seven grand angels.
Susan loves when a story takes hold and pulls her into the fantasy, that's magic.
You can visit Susan at http://susangriscom.com or email her at [email protected].  She loves hearing from her fans.

Links to learn more about Susan:
Amazon
Goodreads
Facebook Fan Page
Facebook personal page
Twitter
Website
Blog

Other works by Susan:
WHISPER CAPE (Book 1)
Amazon USA
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble













REFLECTIONS (Whisper Cape, Book 2)
Amazon USA
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble















ALLUSIVE AFTERSHOCK
Amazon USA
Amazon UK
Barnes & Noble













BRIEF INTERLUDES
Amazon USA
Amazon UK














EROTIC INTERLUDES
Amazon USA
Amazon UK
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Long Road, Full Speed Ahead Cover Reveal

6/19/2013

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Title: Long Road, Full Speed Ahead 

Author: Emily Walker 

Genre: New Adult Drama

Reveal Host: Lady Amber's Tour

Free June 19-21!!

Blurb:
A young girl struggles with abuse, addiction, and abortion all while trying to go to school. Somehow she hits rock bottom and finds an unlikely love story. 

Synopsis:
Grace finds herself with a toxic friend and a brand new hobby when she discovers meth. She had a promising future before Grayson came into the picture. A wolf in sheep’s clothing he soon shows his true colors and they are painted with black and blue. 

The drugs cause more problems than they fix, but lost in the intoxicating world of numbness she must find herself through abuse, addiction, and abortion. Will she let the drugs take her out of the world, and be forever numb, or will an unlikely love pull her out and make her feel again? 

Amazon link: 
http://www.amazon.com/Long-Road-Speed-Ahead-ebook/dp/B00AX3EXCA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1368439935&sr=1-1&keywords=long+road+full+speed+ahead 
 
Paperback: coming at a later date Website – {Read the First Chapter Here!} - http://www.selfpublishordie.com/long-road-full-speed-ahead/

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Author Bio: 
Emily Walker loves creating worlds and stumbling around in them. She is constantly losing her chap-stick, and has an obsession with the color pink. Currently a resident of the mountains and loving the view she writes mostly paranormal fiction, and horror. Her small family consists of her red bearded other half, a rat terrier named Rebel, and a cat called Mr. Creepy.  


Links:
Website: http://www.authoremilywalker.com
Blog: http://www.selfpublishordie.com
Review site: http://www.reviewsfrombeyondthebook.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authoremilywalker
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/authorewalker

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The Seventh Layer by Rachel A. Olson  Cover Reveal

5/20/2013

0 Commentaires

 
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Title: The Seventh Layer 

Author: Rachel A. Olson

Genre: New Adult Scifi/Paranormal

Release: (Already Released – August 17, 2012) 


Blurb: 
As if growing up Amish wasn't hard enough, Sarah Miller receives information  just before her eighteenth birthday about a childhood she can't remember. Accompanied by long lost friends and a few unlikely relatives, Sarah learns of her supernatural destiny and the race to piece together the jigsaw of her life begins. Amidst the whirlwind of unanswered questions, one stands prominent: will the world meet the foreshadowing doom that lingers in the near future, or will Sarah complete the puzzle in time to save her people and ensure the continuance of mankind?


Buy Links: 
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Seventh-Layer-Rachel-Olson/dp/1478335629/ref=la_B008ZKZGL0_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1368190306&sr=1-2 
 
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-seventh-layer-rachel-a-olson/1112550700?ean=9781478335627 
 
Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Seventh-Layer/book-lFbV2xyukkGvwpaXiuCitA/page1.html?s=HVwP8h-x4USf1b4a8HDfzg&r=1 
 
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/300568

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Author Bio: 
Somewhere amidst her forty-hour job and playtime with her three-year-old,
Rachel finds time to walk the streets of worlds only existing on manmade paper.  She resides in small college town Northwestern Nebraska with her young son, just across town from her parents. She enjoys socializing with adults, sipping strawberry wine, and head banging to music that doesn't carry a beat worth the effort of rock star hair slinging.
 











Author Links: 
Website: http://rachelaolson.com 

Blog: http://parasupernormalism.blogspot.com 

Facebook: http://facebook.com/authorrachelaolson 

Twitter: http://twitter.com/whitesouljamma 

Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/authorrachelaolson

Amazon: http://amazon.com/authorrachelaolson 


Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ke-x6mFCCZg

Excerpt: 
Prologue & Chapter 1 (also available on Wattpad and Scribd) 

Prologue 

It crept down the window like an epileptic spider, jittering from side to side, pausing ever so slightly before continuing its descent. 

The rain. 

It always fascinated me. I often sat on my bed at night watching it shatter against my window, then travel slowly out of sight, dancing a sorrowful waltz with the low light coming from the oil lamp on my bedside table. It mattered little if I had to be up at dawn to start my daily chores with Sister. Nothing truly mattered when it rained. 

“Sarah, is everything alright?” Mother stood in my bedroom doorway. She was a plain woman, light brown hair lacking radiance, dull gray eyes, and thin pale lips that almost matched the color of her near-white skin. Her cheekbones curved high beneath her eyes, the lines sharp. Almost too sharp, almost masculine. But she was a kind, gentle woman. No one could deny her that. Sarah,” she said again when I didn’t reply right away. I looked over my shoulder at her then, grinning briefly. 

“Everything is fine, Mother. I was simply admiring the rain.” She smiled, but there was a flash of sadness in her eyes. I knew that sadness, but we never spoke of such things. Sadness in our community was often seen as a weakness of faith. Mother sat next to me on the edge of my bed. She smoothed down her skirt until it lay perfectly across her thin frame. Folding her hands in her lap, she let out a soft sigh. 

“It is a beautiful sight to behold,” she said quietly, gazing out the window. When she turned to me again, her eyes were brimmed with tears. I hugged her quickly, letting her cry silently into my hair. Three days left. That’s all we had. When she finally pulled away, she dabbed lightly at her eyes and nose with the cotton handkerchief she always carried tucked in her sleeve. 

“I will always remember you,” I said just above a whisper before laying a chaste kiss atop her hand. “Though I know you’ll all forget me, in time.” She started to shake her head, but she knew it was true. No one remembered, the human mind was too simple to comprehend it. I had begun to notice just over the last week that people in the community were already beginning to forget. Mainly just the ones I wasn’t in contact with everyday, but they were forgetting just the same. It seemed strange to a point. They were all I had known for the last ten years. How could anyone be in your life for so long and so quickly forget who you were entirely? Yet, somehow I knew and understood it. No one ever had to explain it to me, I just knew. 

Mother tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of my braid behind my ear. Her hand cupped my cheek, warm against my skin. I watched her study my face, trying to memorize it before kissing my forehead and leaving my room. I stared at the empty doorway, my heart heavy. Three more days. 

Just three more days. 

~~~ 

“I had the dream again,” I told Sister as we scrubbed the kitchen floor. 

“It’s so strange to me that you dream so much, Sarah.” Her tone was almost spiteful, maybe even jealous. I’d noticed over the years that either no one spoke of their dreams, or no one really dreamed. I was never really sure which was more accurate. She shook her head at herself. “I apologize. Perhaps I’m not as prepared for you to leave us as I’d convinced myself I was.” 

“Sister,” I paused my work to sit back on my heels and look at her. She turned her youthful face to me, looking me straight on with those enchanting brown eyes. “Sister, I can’t imagine it’s easy for anyone to be prepared for what is to come this new moon. How can you, knowing they will use meidung so that no one suspects? That is not a simple slap on the wrist, Sister. I know I can never come back, and it’s not because of meidung. But it seems to give this whole situation a certain omen, does it not?” Her face was dark as she shook her head. 

“The Devil’s work, they will say. Cast you out like a rabid dog. Why can we not just say you left of your own volition? Is that not satisfactory? It would be truth! I do not condone this lying for you, but the elders say that God will forgive us.” I smiled then. She had been born into the community and raised according to their beliefs. Not everyone understood why meidung was going to be enforced, not truly. Sister was still young at the ripe age of sixteen. And she was female. Two strikes against her in the community, which meant she was only told that which was required of her to know. 

I went back to scrubbing the floor, falling into the silence that awaited us. It welcomed me, embracing me like a long lost child come home. It was short lived. Sister was never comfortable in such an embrace. 

“Tell me again about the dream, Sarah. I think I need a distraction this day.” I studied her for a moment. She looked very much like all the other women in the community. Her usual white blouse was fastened up to her neck, the long sleeves shoved to her elbows to avoid the soapy water. Her black cotton skirt billowed down to her ankles even as she knelt on all fours on the floor. Her black bonnet helped tame the runaway strands of her blacker hair, the rest trailed down to the small of her back in a tight braid. She was slightly rounder than the other women, full of hips and breast. Many whispered behind her back that she was the Devil incarnate, come to tempt all of the men into transgression. I knew she’d simply been better blessed, radiated upon by someone watching over. She puffed a strand of that obsidian silk out of her vision, glancing in my direction. 

“It was no different than it has ever been. I stood in an open meadow. Larger than any meadow I have ever seen, covered in the brightest wildflowers, as if they’d been freshly painted on canvas. There was nothing else in sight, just meadow and wildflower and clear blue sky. The sky was cloudless, all except that one cloud just above me. It cut out most of the sunlight, leaving the world in a gray haze. Everything seemed totally gray, lifeless. Until I laid eyes on the wildflowers again. There was a loud sound overhead, like thunder clapping. The air itself became thick, so thick it seemed I could spoon it up and eat it. Then I looked up at that one lonely cloud and it split in two. Only it wasn’t a separation of cloud, but an opening. Like a door to somewhere else, Heaven maybe? And there I saw a face, shining at me. So bright was that smile, like sunlight after a spring rain. And a hand descended, coming toward me, growing larger and larger the closer it came. I felt warmth radiating down upon me. Such heavy warmth, it made me feel disoriented. Like how Mother describes the men from the city after they’ve left a brewery. The meadow vanishes and I am wrapped in white light. I smell spices and fermented grapes. Wine perhaps. And smoked meats, such wondrous aromas! But I cannot see past the blinding light. In the distance are voices and laughter…and music. I’ve never known such joyous music! I feel my body rising from the earth, toward where I had last seen that singular cloud. And in a heartbeat, I am surrounded by the blackness of my bedroom, only my racine heartbeat to accompany me.” 

Sister had stopped scrubbing, her bristle brush soaking in the sudsy water pail. She gazed at me with dreamy eyes just as though she were witnessing the dream for herself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother walk into the house, dirt dusting the hem of her skirt and tipping the toes of her shoes. She tramped across the nearly clean kitchen floor, purposely stomping dirt where we’d just scrubbed. ‘Twas our punishment for stopping before the chore was fulfilled. Sister shot me an apologetic look. I simply smiled at her. 

Chapter 1 

I don’t remember much of my young childhood. I can recall vague details of things Sister and I did together, but everything seems to begin around the age of nine. Mother says something traumatic must have happened that no one is aware of, and it’s an instinctual defense mechanism that my mind has been using all these years to protect me. I don’t know about all that, I’m no brain doctor. I do, however, have dreams about things that are unrealistic. Sure, I suppose anyone who dreams can have an imagination wild enough to conjure up some fairly ridiculous things. My dreams, however, are too real to me. I can feel everything as if it were flesh and bone, and I can see more clearly in dreamland than I seem to while I’m awake. When I was younger, I tried explaining them to Mother, but she’d laugh until she cried, and then I’d cry because she was laughing. I learned very quickly not to divulge too much to anyone after that. 

When I started dreaming of the face in the cloud, I had to tell someone. Sister seemed to be the only one willing to listen, regardless of whether or not she believed it could be real. She’d tell me more often than not that maybe it was a sign that God himself was going to bless me. Somehow I knew that God, her god, wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. 

It seemed so strange that I felt no connection to the god that everyone worshiped. The one everyone in the community said was the one and only god. It never felt right to me, but I knew better than to verbalize my feelings. Feelings in general, not just sadness, were frowned upon. Feelings meant a detachment from God. Detachment meant rebellion. Rebellion was a sin; one of the darker transgressions, and punishment tended to match the level of sin. 

When I turned fourteen, Mother had a heart-to-heart talk with me. At first, I thought it was going to be the birds and the bees conversation that I’d heard the older girls whisper about. Instead, it was to inform me that I was not her blood. Mother was not my mother. When I was eight years of age, a very old, very crippled woman had knocked on Mother’s door. She said nothing at all, simply handed Mother the end of a rope that had been tied around my neck like a leash, then turned and disappeared. 

Back then, Father was still alive. I don’t remember anything about him, and only know his face from the few framed pictures of him that remained in the house. All I know about Father is that he never seemed to smile, he was a very handsome man, though he would’ve looked better with a beard, and Sister was a spitting image of him. 

As difficult as it was at first, I accepted the news with grace. In a sense, it was a relief to know that I’d not been born into the community. It had never felt like home to me, nor was it reality. I appreciated that they had taken me in under no known circumstances of my past, but they lived in a very strange world all of their own creation and I knew deep down that it would never be home. Many things quickly fell into place then. I finally understood why it secretly bothered me that Sister’s hair was black as coal and mine was the color of wildfire as it licked through a dying forest; why she had silky chocolate morsels for eyes and mine were the oddest shade of purple-blue. We were opposites, Sister and I, but she had always been my best friend. 

Six months ago, I had received a letter from a small corporation in California that claimed to have known my biological father. My first instinct was to burn the letter and run from the unknown. After much discussion, Mother convinced me that it couldn’t hurt to write back. I couldn’t remember my past so if it was just a hoax, I wouldn’t really be losing anything. When another letter
came, hand written by someone within the company, I knew I had to collect more information. It wasn’t the detail given in the letter of my life before the community that convinced me to inquire, but more the penmanship of the individual who wrote the letter. It was strangely familiar to me, along with the name signed at the bottom. Ambrose Alcina. My stomach flipped excitedly when I read it over and over, memorizing the way each letter sensually curved out, like a woman’s bosom straining against the fabric of her gown. They say you can profile someone just on their handwriting. I knew nothing about profiling, but I did know one thing. This man, whoever he was, knew his way into a woman's heart. 
 
For the next several months, Mr. Alcina and I continued to correspond through our letters. He seemed genuinely interested in my life and was humored by the news that I'd been raised these last ten years by an Amish community in Southern Nebraska. Humored, but not surprised. It even seemed like old news when I'd informed him that I couldn't remember any part of my life before or even up to coming to the community. 

The last letter I received, around three months ago, requested that I contact him on the telephone. After several weeks of begging and extra chores, Mother finally conceded and I ran two miles to the closest telephone shanty. 

“Cartwright and Hankins,” a pleasant greeting rang through. I'd never had the opportunity to learn telephone etiquette, but I'd always assumed it was no different than daily conversation. You just had to visualize the face you were addressing. 

“Yes, good day ma'am, would Mr. Ambrose Alcina be available, please.” I hadn't fully caught my breath, but managed to sound quite pleasant, even to myself. 

“May I ask who's inquiring?” Her voice was similar to the sing-song of the American Redstart birds in the early morning. Maybe not quite as high in pitch, but just as pleasantly chirpy. 

“Yes ma'am, my name is Sarah Miller. Mr. Alcina had requested I call, but I've been...indisposed until now.” I wasn't entirely sure that was a truthful enough answer, but then I'd never been known for always telling the truth. 

“Please hold.” There was a strange series of clicking sounds before soft violins commenced playing. My breathing finally evened out and I'd almost forgotten that I was on hold until the music abruptly ended. 

“Ambrose speaking.” His voice was like silk lightly rippling over smooth stones. He carried a light accent, though I was not familiar with any of them to make any kind of educated guess of its origin. 

“Good day Mr. Alcina, it's Sarah.” There was a quiet pause. “Sarah Miller? From Pawnee County, Nebraska. You'd requested I call, sir. I apologize for not –” 

“Sarah, yes! Forgive me, it's been several weeks since our last correspondence. I'd almost given up hope.” It was almost like he was singing me a lullaby. Such richness in his tone, deep and luscious. My body warmed through all the way down to my toes. 

“Yes, I apologize for the delay. Mother was extraordinarily difficult on the matter.” I heard him chuckle lightly. It occurred to me then that even his voice was familiar to me. Why did I feel like I knew this man? And why did it feel like it was a deeper knowledge than just friends or acquaintances? 

“Sarah, I must discuss something of great importance with you.” He sounded suddenly very serious. 

“Yes, of course. Anything you'd like.” My pulse stepped up a notch. 

“Sarah...” he hesitated. “Sarah, your eighteenth birthday is approaching, is it not?” 

“Yes sir, in three months time. To the day, in fact.” There was a hushed rustling on the other end of the phone. I pictured him shifting in his seat. 
 
“Yes indeed, during the new moon. Sarah, I realize that what I'm about to say to you will come as a bit of a shock, but I need you to listen closely and I pray that you can understand in full how serious this is.” I struggled to find my reply. His tone was so somber, it almost scared me. What could be so distressing? “Sarah, are you still there?” 

“Yes sir, Mr. Alcina. I'm sorry, I'm just a bit confused. What is it that has you so sedate?” 

“Sarah, listen closely. Please, please listen and understand.” That last part he said so quietly, it sounded more like a prayer to himself than anything directed toward me. “There is no time for explanations. On the morning of your birthday, you will be approached by a man by the name of Nicoli. He is a beast of a man, but he is for your protection...and transportation.” My head
immediately whirled out of control. Protection and transportation? Protection from whom? From what? And where might I be going? Was it dangerous? Could I even trust this man I was speaking to? How did I know this Nicoli individual was safe? So many questions and an inoperable tongue. “Sarah?” Ambrose almost sounded as frightened as I felt. 

“Why?” was all I could muster. My thoughts were so chaotic, it was nearly impossible to send one little thought out to make my mouth work. 

“There is no time for explanations. Go back to your home and prepare. Speak to no one outside of your community. Mention this to no one you do not trust completely. Three months, and I will explain everything. I give you my word.” The line died before I could utter even a squeak. 

READ ON WATTPAD:
http://www.wattpad.com/8024624-prologue-%26-chapter-1-the-seventh-layer-excerpt#.UYzu4Mqld-w 
 
READ ON SCRIBD:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/108802512/The-Seventh-Layer-Prologue-and-Ch-1-Excerpt 
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One - Cover Reveal    May 13th

5/13/2013

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Title: One 

Author: Mari Arden  

Genre: New Adult

Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours

** Link to a Giveaway at the end of the post **

Blurb:
Jules Hendricks has had a string of bad "firsts." 

Embarrassing first kiss. Traumatic first date. An obsessive first boyfriend she can't understand.  

It's taken her years but she's finally able to leave her small town life behind for a new start as a freshmen at UW- Madison. For Jules this chance to be independent and rebuild her life is an opportunity she won't ever let anyone take from her again. She's determined to make something of herself without a man by her side, in front, behind or anywhere near her.  

Reid "Pax" Paxton is the star quarterback for the UW Badgers. His brush with death makes him understand how precious life is, and how important it is to take life by the horns, unafraid. Jules knows he's dangerous for her. Dark hair. Smoldering eyes. Killer smile. That dimple. That body. Those arms. Pax is everything she's trying to run away from, but she can't help coming back for more. Slowly he begins to show a life together can be more than just a dream. It can be their reality. The truth about reality is it's not always sunshine and butterflies. 

Sometimes it's a wasteland.  

Sometimes secrets can't stay buried. 

Sometimes your past will find a way to hunt you down. 

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Author Bio: 
I'm Mari Arden (Mari rhymes with safari). Teacher by day, author by night. When I'm not living my double life I like to hike, take zumba classes, and try foods from all over the world. I write to soothe my soul and to, hopefully, entertain YOU. I write YA and NA including the YA series, "Fireborn".  

Adventurous? Come join my double life! 

Links: 
Website: www.mariarden.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mari-Arden-author/493749174011347
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6897452.Mari_Arden
Twitter: www.twitter.com/mariarden
Excerpt:
**Warning: the contents of this book are intended for readers 18+ and older due to explicit adult situations.  

"Do I make you nervous?" His husky drawl drips like chocolate covering a ripe, round strawberry. Does he make me nervous? Does a simmering volcano make an ant nervous? 

I swallow. "Nervous? I'm not nervous," I babble, refusing to look at him. I'm in physical pain. What's that thing I do where I take in air, and then let it out? Oh yeah, breathing. I need to do that.  

Like right now. 

I make a strangled sound and inhale through my nostrils, taking in the smoky air like a ravenous puppy finding milk. Instantly I feel Pax's heat next to me. Soon I'll be immersed in it, wrapped in it.  

Wrapped around him.  

So does that make me nervous? Only a hundred kinds of nervous. 

"Time to begin!" Cade yells, as he jogs back to Pax and I, flashing his pearly whites. He pounds Pax on the back. "Don't drop the ball," he grins.  

"As if I ever do." 

Cade turns to me. I see the second he registers my cleavage is exposed to the world. His eyes appraise me slowly. He gives me an appreciative grin. "Well, hello there." 

"Hi," I reply. "Um, should we start now?" I don't mean to be rude, but I'm a second away from vomiting every cell inside me, and call me crazy, but I'd prefer not to start off my year known as the Vomiter.  

"Yes," Pax glares at Cade. "Let's start." He inserts himself between us, blocking Cade's view of me. His firm, half naked body is next to my face. Pax's musky cologne combined with a sweaty scent unique to him assails my nostrils until my senses are reeling out of control.  

Cade chuckles, looking amused. I want to glare at him. I don't find anything amusing about this. "Ready when you are." 

Pax turns to me, his emerald eyes dark pools in the sunlight. This close I see every glorious inch of him, from the tiny stubbles of black hair covering the lower part of his face to the rippling six pack decorating his stomach like a tattoo. I don't dare look any lower. My pulse skitters. I forget to breathe. Something hard and hot unfurls in my belly. Unable to tear my gaze from him I watch helpless as his mouth drifts closer, until he' so close his breath mingles with mine. 

"Ride me." 

Excerpt copyright 2013 Mari Arden

Giveaway: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/N2Y3N2ZhNDc1NTlmMGZjNDRmNWM2MDE1YjVhNzhkOjM=/
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Broken Prince Cover Reveal 

5/1/2013

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Title: Broken Prince (Book 2 of The Broken Ones) 

Author: Jen Wylie 

Genre: New Adult, Fantasy

Reveal Host: Lady Amber's Tour


Synopsis: 
Sometimes, when you're broken, you can heal on your own. Sometimes, you need the help of your friends, your family, and the people you love. Keeping those pieces together when the world seems intent on ripping you apart is the greatest challenge of all. Especially when the ones you love, the ones who hold you together, start falling apart themselves. 

Arowyn and her family continue on their journey to return the Elven Prince,
Shael, to his homeland before he fades and dies. A journey full of triumph and horror, love and sorrow, rips them apart with every fighting moment, and yet brings them together as a family. They don’t allow the prophecy to rule their lives. Some don’t believe, some don’t care.  Prophecies aren’t written in stone. Events can change. People can change. They are only words. From besieged cites, to the elusive Were and wild Fey, nothing quite prepares them to face their deadliest of enemies, one they didn't know existed.

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Author Bio: 
Jen Wylie resides in rural Ontario, Canada with her  two boys, Australian  shepherd and a disagreeable amount of wildlife. In a cosmic twist of fate she dislikes the snow and cold. 

Before settling down to raise a family, she attained a BA from Queens  University and worked in retail and sales. 

Thanks to her mother she acquired a love of books at an early age and began writing in public school. She constantly has stories floating around in her head, and finds it amazing most people don’t. Jennifer writes various forms of fantasy, both novels and short stories. 









Links:
My website: www.jenwylie.com  

My blog: http://jlwylie.wordpress.com  
 
Twitter: @jen_wylie

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4499919.Jen_Wylie

Facebook fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jennifer-Wylie/151266004895266

Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/Jen-Wylie/e/B004HQ9XD8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1


Excerpt: 
Damon knelt before them. 

"Will she get better? Will she…" Prince’s voice trailed off. 

Her eyes locked on Damon’s face as he regarded her thoughtfully. His hand came up and she flinched as it rested on the top of her head. No pain came. She felt…nothing. If he tried to speak to her, she couldn’t hear him. 

"No," he said finally. "There has been damage to the brain. There is bleeding and swelling inside." 

Prince’s cry startled her, almost as much as the sudden clutching of his arms around her. "Can you do anything," he choked out. "Please, I am responsible. I can not…I will pay–" 

Damon chuckled. "It is not your life that needs saving." He stared at Prince for a long moment. "I see." He shook his head. "Perhaps I was wrong and she isn’t the one. I read so few pages of the book." He turned to Kei. 

"No," the Fey said. "I don’t remember." 

"Pity." 

"Dragos, I beg of you," Prince began again. 

"The Elven prince begs, and for a human. How very far you have fallen." He looked down at her again. 

Blinking up at him, she tried to get her scattered thoughts to work. She’d barely comprehended what he’d said past the inference she was dying. The words sent an icy chill through her body. Terror crawled through her, speeding her heart. Sweat broke out on her forehead and all she could hear was her increasingly frantic breathing. 

Kei startled her, leaning forward over her to press a kiss to her forehead. She tilted her head back, trying to see him. 

"I’m with you." 

Damon’s fingers brushes her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. "Do you wish to live, young Arowyn?" 

Words refused to pass her lips. Somehow she managed to nod. She didn’t know what the cost would be, certainly there would be one. Right then, she didn’t care. Rot it all, she wanted to live! 

"Very well." He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "Dragos rarely heal others. I do know the magic, but it is difficult. Your story has barely begun. I find I would actually attempt it, just to see what you might become and how it will unfold." 

He sat back and gestured to the pile of furs next to him. "Lay her down. This will take some time and I’ll need no distractions." 

Prince carefully set her amongst the furs, arranging her arms so her hands rested on her chest, tucking stray locks of hair behind her ears. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead for a moment against hers. 

"Get well, Arowyn." 

Bo appeared next, smoothing the hair back on the top of her head and squeezing one of her hands. "You can do this, pup." 

Garen pressed his wet nose against her temple. If he spoke, she didn’t hear him. 

Kei pushed the wolf aside and took her face in his hands. His eyes glowed with that strange orange inner light. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Despite the awkward position he leaned down and held her close for a moment. "Remember our promises," he whispered in her. "I’m always with you." He choked on a sob and squeezed her tightly again. "I love you," he whispered fiercely before quickly pulling away. 

She wished she could speak. More than anything, she wanted to tell him she loved him, too. She wanted to tell all of them she did. Tears filled her eyes and slid down her face. 

Damon knelt beside her and turned her head to look at him. "I will do what I can," he said. "However I can’t guarantee it will work. I have never tried to heal a human before. Understand?" 

She managed a faint nod and pressed her quivering lips together. 

He glanced up and gestured the others away. "Stand back and be silent." His eyes found hers again. "Don’t fight me this time, little one. Fall into my eyes…" 

Blinking once more to clear the tears away, she tried to do as he asked. Damon’s eyes were strange enough she found it not difficult to stare. They had vertical slits and no whites at all. The iridescent color was a wash of blue-green with streaks of gold and red. The colors began to swirl, making her dizzy as she tried to watch them. A comforting thrum emanated from his chest, soothing her as his power wrapped around her. Her thoughts drifted into nothing.
 



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Broken Wings Cover Reveal  

5/1/2013

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Title: Broken Wings (Book 2 in the Hidden Wings Series)

Author: Cameo Renae
 
Cover Design by: Regina Wamba of Mae I Design

Blurb:
Emma’s world is falling apart, and Kade, the only one who seems to hold  her together, is missing. With death lingering right outside their door, decisions must be made before it’s too late. The Midway has refused to send help, so they are  left to seek out the only other who can stop Lucian.

A perilous quest sends Emma and a few Guardians into the Underworld,  where the unimaginable abide, to beseech the Prince of Darkness himself. Lucifer. Now, they must endure the deadly levels of Hell, which not one …mortal or immortal… has ever survived.

Prepare for love, loss, and the unexpected.


Add it to:
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17301746-broken-wings
Cameo's FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/CameoRenaeFanPage?ref=hl




  


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