tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30981132596496936212024-03-13T12:42:51.249-05:00Fandom Monthly MagazineFandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.comBlogger189125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-10591256207190473802016-10-18T13:50:00.000-05:002016-10-18T13:50:16.536-05:00Time Traveling With a Hamster by Ross Welford<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b style="color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Back to the Future</i> meets <i>The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time</i> in this original, poignant, race-against-time story about a boy who travels back to 1984 to save his father’s life.</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My dad died twice. Once when he was thirty-nine and again four years later, when he was twelve. On his twelfth birthday, Al Chaudhury receives a letter from his dead father. It directs him to the bunker of their old house, where Al finds a time machine (an ancient computer and a tin bucket). The letter also outlines a mission: travel back to 1984 and prevent the go-kart accident that will eventually take his father’s life. But as Al soon discovers, whizzing back thirty years requires not only imagination and courage, but also lying to your mom, stealing a moped, and setting your school on fire—oh, and keeping your pet hamster safe. With a literary edge and tons of commerical appeal, this incredible debut has it all: heart, humor, vividly imagined characters, and a pitch-perfect voice.</span></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-50448642488142918382016-09-14T13:15:00.000-05:002016-09-14T13:15:01.578-05:00Excerpt: The Bear Who Loved Me by Kathy Lyons<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The first in a wild shifter series from USA TODAY bestselling author Kathy Lyons.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">WHEN AN ALPHA MEETS HIS MATCH . . .</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Between singlehandedly running her bakery and raising her teenaged nephew, Becca Weitz thought she had a decent grip on "normal." Then her nephew vanishes, and life as she's known it changes forever. Local legends are true: bear shifters exist . . . and her nephew is part of their clan. As is Carl Carman, the sexy, larger-than-life man who has sworn to find her nephew-and the other young shifters who've gone missing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">As the leader of his clan, Carl is surrounded by enemies. He's learned the hard way that keeping a firm leash on his inner beast is key to survival, though his feelings for Becca test his legendary control. Then danger stalks too close, and Carl realizes he must unleash the raging, primal force within to protect everything he holds dear. But can Becca trust his grizzly side with her life-and her heart?<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Kathy Lyons is the wild, adventurous half of <i>USA TODAY</i> bestselling author Jade Lee. A lover of all things fantastical, Kathy spent much of her childhood in Narnia, Middle Earth, Amber, and Earthsea, just to name a few. There is nothing she adores more than turning an ordinary day into something magical, which is what happens all the time in her books. Winner of several industry awards including the Prism-Best of the Best, Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice, and Fresh Fiction's Steamiest Read, Kathy has published over fifty romance novels, and she's just getting started. Check out her latest news at KathyLyons.com.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Excerpt from THE BEAR WHO LOVED ME by Kathy Lyons</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Alan Carman was so happy he was singing. Rarely in life was everything exactly perfect. The sun was shining. He’d just been paid, pitiful an amount though that might be. And now he was headed home, flying down the freeway on a beautiful late summer day to tell his brother the most amazing news.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Which made it typical for his life that sirens started blaring right behind him. Cop car. A quick look down showed that he hadn’t been speeding, but the flashing lights were pretty clear, so he braked and pulled over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Damn. Though—upside—even this wasn’t dimming his mood because today was a great day. His life had just changed for the better. The amazing, the absolutely, wonderful, joyous yes- all-is-exactly-as-it-ought-to-be better! Then he looked back and saw the police officer step out of her car. He knew that walk. Knew that body even though it was encased in the intimidating uniform of a state police officer. And now that he saw her, he also knew that God had given him exactly the most perfect day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He grinned and lowered his window. This was going to be fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“License and registration, please.” Her voice was clipped, her eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, and she in no way indicated that they’d grown up within a few miles of one another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Hi, Tonya. Guess what?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Officer Tonya Kappes, gorgeous grizzly-shifter and all around badass, didn’t react though he watched carefully for any hint of softening. No relaxation of her spine, no tilt to her lips. Nothing despite the fact that she’d been his one obsession since his fourteenth birthday. He knew from his brother Carl when she started working for the state police. And he’d watched the news just in case she hit the media spotlight. For years they’d had no direct contact while he went through law school and she flew through the police academy. But now, on this day of all days, she was here pulling him over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Must be fate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Come on, Tonya. It’s me on a beautiful day. Guess what?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Alan.” Just his name spoken in a flat voice. “Hand me your license and registration, please.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Well, at least she recognized him. That was something, right? Still smiling—though the expression was getting more strained by the second—he pulled out his wallet and handed over his driver’s license. A moment later, he passed her his insurance information.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” she asked, her voice deadpan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Yeah. Seventy.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You were in a fifty-five zone.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>What?</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> “No way. I know this route like the back of my hand. It’s not—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Changed last week.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">A speed trap. Of course.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Damn it, doesn’t Michigan have any other way to fund themselves?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“There were notices in all the local papers.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I’ve been working in Detroit.” He huffed out a breath. “Hell, Tonya, I’ll pay the ridiculous ticket. I’ll even donate to the policeman’s ball or whatever charity you want. Just do me one little favor and ask me what’s up!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Pause. A long one, damn it. And then she lowered her sunglasses. Her sweet baby blues appeared and he almost melted right there. Sure she was all Officer Ice Queen, but right there were the eyes that had lived in his fantasies for over a decade.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“What’s. Up.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I passed the bar. As of today, I’m a real, live, honest-to-goodness attorney.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He watched her face for her reaction. He waited for a whoop of joy or a slap of congratulations. Something that indicated she knew what this meant to him. Instead, her lips curved into a slow, shallow smile.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Congratulations, Counselor.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He huffed out a breath. That was a bit anticlimactic. So he abruptly twisted, crossed his arms, and leaned them against the car door such that he was as close as he could get to her without climbing out of his car. Then he smiled his most charming smile at her.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She arched her brows, but beyond that, didn’t seem to react at all.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Celebrate with me, Tonya.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I’m in a relationship.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Ah.</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> Well that put a damper on his hormones, but even so he still wanted to catch up with her. “That’s great,” he lied. “Tell me about him.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Her.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">His brows arched. “Really?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She nodded slowly. “If you tell a soul—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Not a word. I swear. But only if you tell me all about it.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Got a kink gene you want to indulge?” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He held up his hand. “No, Tonya. I got an interest in you. We grew up together. You gave me my first kiss—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She flushed at that, and he took it with a measure of pride that she remembered it. Maybe even thought of it as pleasurably as he did.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We’ve missed each other these last years. I’ve kept up through Carl but—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You still dating the Chinese girl?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He shook his head.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“The brunette?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So she had been paying attention. Good. “Jade and I are on the outs right now. She’s headed to New York and big city law. Couldn’t understand why I was going back to Gladwin.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Tonya jolted. “You are?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He nodded. “Carl really needs the help since Dad died. Has for a while, and I can’t keep splitting my time between Detroit and home.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“So you quit Detroit?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He grinned. “Yup. Turned in my notice today.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“But what are you going to do in Gladwin? The clan can’t have that much legal work—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You’d be surprised. Plus, I’ll be looking in the surrounding area for work. Bay City isn’t that far. It won’t be a lot of money, but my expenses are low.” He shrugged. “Once Carl gets everything stabilized, I can look for a more permanent solution.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“He’ll be grateful for the help.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“So what about it?” he pressed. “Tell me all about your girlfriend over dinner? My treat?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Of course it’s your treat,” she said as she handed him back his license and registration. “Since I just accidentally screwed up this ticket.” She ripped up the moving violation, then gave him directions to a chain restaurant. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Bring your girl,” he said. “I’d love to meet her.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She flashed him a sheepish look. “She’s actually a guy named Brian. He’s a dentist and the exact opposite of the meatheads I work with every damn day.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“So not a muscle guy?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“More like a ninety-pound weakling, but he makes me smile.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“So why say you’re with a girl?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Her gaze canted away. “Because guys stop arguing when I say I’m on a different team. Plus it helps them understand a female cop. Apparently only lesbos can be butch.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He frowned and he tried to sort out what she’d just said. “You know that makes no sense, right?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“And when did the human race ever make sense, Counselor?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She had a point. And he had a desperate urge to learn more about what it took to be a female cop. What it had cost her and how it worked with the whole shifter thing. She started to walk away, but he reached out to touch her hand. Warm fingertips to hot skin. He brushed across the back of her hand and felt a jolt all the way through his body that lingered in his dick. And even more shocking, she seemed to have felt something, too. Her eyes widened and her breath caught. But that was the only reaction he could see.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Alan?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Does he know? About the bear thing?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Tonya’s face paled and she shook her head. “He’s so normal, you know? I liked that about him. Not macho, not paranormal, just a boring dentist raised by nice middle-class people. Hell, the weirdest thing about him is he’s part Chippewa on his mom’s side. He even has allergies and hates camping.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Alan listened carefully, keeping his expression neutral. She clearly had reservations about the relationship, but there was also a softness in her tone. A yearning that lay underneath her words that spoke of a deeper connection with the man.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Do you love him?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I think so,” she said. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want the whole white-picket-fence thing.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Bring him to dinner. Let me meet him.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She arched a brow. “You looking to give dating advice, Counselor?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He snorted. “Never. I just want you happy, is all.” And wasn’t that God’s honest truth? “And I want to see if this dentist can do that.” Apparently, he couldn’t even say the man’s name.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She swallowed. “He’s going to propose soon. He bought a ring.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Oh shit.</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> This was serious. “You’re sure?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I saw the receipt. Didn’t mean to snoop, but he was careless.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And Tonya noticed things. It was part of being a cop. “So that’s a good thing, right?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“So I’m going to have to tell him. About the bear thing.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>Right.</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> Always a dicey proposition. “Have you talked to Carl? Gotten his okay and all?” It was standard practice to ask permission from the alpha for revelations like this. It was rarely denied. Not in this day and age. But alphas liked to keep track of who was in on the secret and who wasn’t. And since she was a woman who followed the letter of the law, Tonya would be particular about following clan rules.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Everything’s in place to tell Brian,” she said. “I just can’t seem to actually do it.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Do you need help?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Her eyes sharpened for a moment. She looked like she was about to bite his head off for suggesting such a thing, and so he held up his hands in surrender.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“It was just an offer. I don’t know how I could help, but sometimes—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I know,” she said, cutting him off. Then she rubbed a hand over her face. “I haven’t gone running in a while and it’s making me antsy.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He didn’t have to ask what kind of running she meant. Every shifter had to go animal wild for a time. Just let the bear out of the cage and go tromping through the woods in their natural form. “Have you tried Mark’s new software program? It takes the edge off.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Yeah. I love it, but it’s not enough.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He nodded. He couldn’t relate to the need to go native, but he did understand it. So he touched her hand again, and this time the electrical surge was more like a warm wash of energy—sweet and gentle. “Call Brian and tell him you’re getting together with an old friend tonight. Celebrate my passing the bar and all,” he added with a grin.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Yeah, I will—”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“But then go get your bear on at the state park. I’ll bring food to the campground for afterward and keep hold of your keys and stuff.” Shifters always ended up ravenous after a run. And it was always reassuring to know that someone watched the home fires while the animal went native. This he knew from years of holding car keys and warming the grill while bear play went on in the woods. They needed it, and he took comfort in keeping things safe while the clan went wild.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Tonya wasn’t immune to the lure. She hesitated, clearly tempted. “It’s been a </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><i>long</i></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> while, Alan. I might not be done until well after midnight.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He shrugged. “I got no plans.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Then she gave in. He saw it first in her eyes, which flashed gratitude even when her body was still trying to resist. But then every part of her sagged with relief.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Thanks, Alan.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“No problem.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And it wasn’t. Not even when she didn’t return to the campsite until after three in the morning. Not when she ate two steaks and finished the last of his beer. It wasn’t a problem until she kissed him on the cheek and hopped into her car, flushed and excited to return to her dentist.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Then he stood by his car and gave up hiding the boner that throbbed through every cell in his body. And he realized that while she was headed to her boyfriend, he was so very alone.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">He thought the feeling would ease over time. He thought he would get past this childhood crush that was more about nostalgia than anything else. After all, she’d been his first kiss and it had blown his teenage mind.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">But three months later, she showed up in Gladwin. She’d gotten a job as the sheriff’s newest deputy. Carl told him that the bear revelation hadn’t gone well with the dentist and she needed a change in scenery. And when Alan went to see Tonya, she was a totally different person.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">All her defenses were up. Her shoulders were tight and her eyes were haunted. She declared in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t gay, but she sure as hell was over men. Her exact words were, “I’ve decided I’m asexual.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Then she slammed the door in his face.</span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-67099256058409565702016-09-14T00:00:00.000-05:002016-09-14T00:00:16.055-05:00Excerpt & GIVEAWAY: Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator by Roald Dahl (Roald Dahl 100)<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/21089479/Roald%20Dahl%20100/Charlie%20and%20the%20Glass%20Elevator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/21089479/Roald%20Dahl%20100/Charlie%20and%20the%20Glass%20Elevator.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="258" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now that he's won the chocolate factory, what's next for Charlie? Last seen flying through the sky in a giant elevator in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," Charlie Bucket's back for another adventure. When the giant elevator picks up speed, Charlie, Willy Wonka, and the gang are sent hurtling through space and time. Visiting the world ' first space hotel, battling the dreaded Vermicious Knids, and saving the world are only a few stops along this remarkable, intergalactic joyride."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Roald Dahl (1916–1990) was one of the world’s most imaginative, successful and beloved storytellers. He was born in Wales of Norwegian parents and spent much of his childhood in England. After establishing himself as a writer for adults with short story collections such as <i>Kiss Kiss</i> and <i>Tales of the Unexpected</i>, Roald Dahl began writing children's stories in 1960 while living with his family in both the U.S. and in England. His first stories were written as entertainment for his own children, to whom many of his books are dedicated. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Roald Dahl’s first children’s story, <i>The Gremlins</i>, was a story about little creatures that were responsible for the various mechanical failures on airplanes. <i>The Gremlins</i> came to the attention of both First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who loved to read the story to her grandchildren, and Walt Disney, with whom Roald Dahl had discussions about the production of a movie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Roald Dahl was inspired by American culture and by many of the most quintessential American landmarks to write some of his most memorable passages, such as the thrilling final scenes in <i>James and the Giant Peach</i> - when the peach lands on the Empire State Building! Upon the publication of <i>James and the Giant Peach</i>, Roald Dahl began work on the story that would later be published as <i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</i> and today, Roald Dahl’s stories are available in 58 languages and, by a conservative estimate, have sold more than 200 million copies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Roald Dahl also enjoyed great success for the screenplays he wrote for both the James Bond film <i>You Only Live Twice</i> in 1967 and for <i>Chitty Chitty Bang Bang</i>, released one year later, which went on to become a beloved family film. Roald Dahl’s popularity continues to increase as his fantastic novels, including <i>James and the Giant Peach, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Matilda, The BFG</i>, and <i>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</i>, delight an ever-growing legion of fans. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: justify;">Two charities have been founded in Roald Dahl’s memory: the first charity, Roald Dahl’s Marvellous Children’s Charity, created in 1991, focuses on making life better for seriously ill children through the funding of specialist nurses, innovative medical training, hospitals, and individual families across the UK.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: justify;">The second charity, The Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre – a unique cultural, literary and education hub – opened in June 2005 in Great Missenden where Roald Dahl lived and wrote many of his best-loved works. 10% of income from Roald Dahl books and adaptations are donated to the two Roald Dahl charities.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: justify;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">On September 13, 2006, the first national Roald Dahl Day was celebrated, on what would have been the author’s 90</span><span style="line-height: normal;"><sup>th</sup></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> birthday. The event proved such a success that Roald Dahl Day is now marked annually all over the world. September 13, 2016 is </span><span style="line-height: normal;">Roald Dahl 100, marking 100 years since the birth of the world’s number one storyteller. There will be celebrations for Roald Dahl 100 throughout 2016, delivering a year packed with gloriumptious treats and surprises for everyone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">1</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Mr. Wonka Goes Too Far</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The last time we saw Charlie, he was riding high above his home town in the Great Glass Elevator. Only a short while before, Mr. Wonka had told him that the whole gigantic fabulous Chocolate Factory was his, and now our small friend was returning in triumph with his entire family to take over. The passengers in the Elevator (just to remind you) were:</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>Charlie Bucket,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>our hero.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Mr. Willy Wonka,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>chocolate-maker extraordinary.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Mr. and Mrs. Bucket,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Charlie’s father and mother.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Mr. Bucket’s father and mother.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Mrs. Bucket’s father and mother.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandma Josephine, Grandma Georgina and Grandpa George were still in bed, the bed having been pushed on board just before take off. Grandpa Joe, as you remember, had gotten out of bed to go around the Chocolate Factory with Charlie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Great Glass Elevator was a thousand feet up and cruising nicely. The sky was a brilliant blue. Everybody on board was wildly excited at the thought of going to live in the famous Chocolate Factory. Grandpa Joe was singing. Charlie was jumping up and down. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket were smiling for the first time in years, and the three old ones in the bed were grinning at one another with pink toothless gums.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What in the world keeps this thing up in the air?” croaked Grandma Josephine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Skyhooks,” said Mr. Wonka. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You amaze me,” said Grandma Josephine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Dear lady,” said Mr. Wonka, “you are new to the scene. When you have been with us a little longer, nothing will amaze you.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“These skyhooks,” said Grandma Josephine. “I assume one end is hooked onto this contraption we’re riding in. Right?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Right,” said Mr. Wonka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What’s the other end hooked onto?” said Grandma Josephine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Every day,” said Mr. Wonka, “I get deafer and deafer. Remind me, please, to call up my ear doctor the moment we get back.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Charlie,” said Grandma Josephine. “I don’t think I trust this gentleman very much.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Nor do I,” said Grandma Georgina. “He footless around.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Charlie leaned over the bed and whispered to the two old women. “Please,” he said, “don’t spoil everything. Mr. Wonka is a fantastic man. He’s my friend. I love him.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Charlie’s right,” whispered Grandpa Joe, joining the group. “Now you be quiet, Josie, and don’t make trouble.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“We must hurry!” said Mr. Wonka. “We have so much time and so little to do! No! Wait! Strike that! Reverse it Thank you! Now back to the factory!” he cried, clapping his hands once and springing two feet in the air with two feet. “Back we fly to the factory! But we must go <i>up </i>before we can come down! We must go <i>higher and higher</i>!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“What did I tell you!” said Grandma Josephine. “The man’s cracked!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Be quiet, Josie,” said Grandpa Joe. “Mr. Wonka knows exactly what he’s doing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“He’s cracked as a crab!” said Grandma Georgina.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We must go higher!” said Mr. Wonka. “We must go tremendously high! Hold onto your stomachs!” He pressed a brown button. The Elevator shuddered, and then with a fearful whooshing noise it shot vertically upward like a rocket. Everybody clutched hold of everybody else and as the great machine gathered speed, the rushing whooshing sound of the wind outside grew louder and louder and shriller and shriller until it became a piercing shriek and you had to yell to make yourself heard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Stop!” yelled Grandma Josephine. “Joe, you make him stop! I want to get off!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Save us!” yelled Grandma Georgina.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Go down!” yelled Grandpa George.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“No, no!” Mr. Wonka yelled back. “We’ve got to go up!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“But why?” they all shouted at once. “Why up and not down?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Because the higher we are when we start coming down, the faster we’ll be going when we hit,” said Mr. Wonka. “We’ve got to be going at an absolutely sizzling speed when we hit!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“When we hit <i>what</i>?” they cried</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“The factory, of course,” answered Mr. Wonka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You must be whackers!” said Grandma Josephine. “We’ll all be pulpified!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We’ll be scrambled like eggs!” said Grandma Georgina.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“That,” said Mr. Wonka, “is a chance we shall have to take.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You’re joking,” said Grandma Josephine. “Tell us you’re joking.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Madam,” said Mr. Wonka, “I never joke.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Oh, my dears!” cried Grandma Georgina. “We’ll be <i>lixivated</i>, every one of us!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“More than likely,” said Mr. Wonka.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandma Josephine screamed and disappeared under the bedclothes. Grandma Georgina clutched Grandpa George so tight he changed shape. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket stood hugging each other, speechless with fright. Only Charlie and Grandpa Joe kept moderately cool. They had traveled a long way with Mr. Wonka and had grown accustomed to surprises. But as the Great Elevator continued to streak upward, farther and farther away from the earth, even Charlie began to feel a trifle nervous. “Mr. Wonka!” he yelled above the noise. “What I don’t understand is <i>why </i>we’ve got to come down at such a terrific speed.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“My dear boy,” Mr. Wonka answered, “if we don’t come down at a terrific speed, we’ll never burst our way back in through the roof of the factory. It’s not easy to punch a hole in a roof as strong as that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“But there’s a hole in it already,” said Charlie. “We made it when we came out.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Then we shall make another,” said Mr. Wonka. “Two holes are better than one. Any mouse will tell you that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Higher and higher rushed the Great Glass Elevator until soon they could see the countries and oceans of the earth spread out below them like a map. It was all very beautiful, but when you are standing on a glass floor looking down, it gives you a nasty feeling. Even Charlie was beginning to feel frightened now. He hung on tightly to Grandpa Joe’s hand and looked up anxiously into the old man’s face. “I’m scared, Grandpa,” he said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandpa Joe put an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and held him close. “So am I, Charlie,” he said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Mr. Wonka!” Charlie shouted. “Don’t you think this is about high enough?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Very nearly,” Mr. Wonka answered. “But not quite. Don’t talk to me now, please. Don’t disturb me. I must watch things very carefully at this stage. Split-second timing, my boy, that’s what it’s got to be. You see this green button. I must press it at exactly the right instant. If I’m just half a second late, then we’ll go <i>too high</i>!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What happens if we go too high?” asked Grandpa Joe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Do please stop talking and let me concentrate!” Mr. Wonka said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At that precise moment, Grandma Josephine poked her head out from under the sheets and peered over the edge of the bed. Through the glass floor she saw the entire continent of North America nearly two hundred miles below and looking no bigger than a piece of candy. “<i>Someone’s </i>got to stop this maniac,” she screeched, and she shot out a wrinkled old hand and grabbed Mr. Wonka by the coattails and yanked him backward onto the bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“No, no,” cried Mr. Wonka, struggling to free himself. “Let me go! I have things to see to! Don’t disturb the pilot!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You madman,” shrieked Grandma Josephine, shaking Mr. Wonka so fast that his head became a blur. “You get us back home this instant!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Let me go!” cried Mr. Wonka. “I’ve got to press that button or we’ll go too high! Let me go! Let me go!” But Grandma Josephine hung on. “Charlie!” shouted Mr. Wonka. “Press the button! The green one! Quick, quick, quick!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Charlie leaped across the Elevator and banged his thumb down on the green button. But as he did so, the Elevator gave a mighty groan and rolled over onto its side, and the rushing whooshing noise stopped altogether and an eerie silence took its place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Too late!” cried Mr. Wonka. “Oh, my goodness me, we’re cooked!” As he spoke, the bed with the three old ones in it and Mr. Wonka on top lifted gently off the floor and hung suspended in mid-air. Charlie and Grandpa Joe and Mr. and Mrs. Bucket also floated upward so that in a twink the entire company, as well as the bed, were floating around like balloons inside the Great Glass Elevator.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“<i>Now </i>look what you’ve done!” said Mr. Wonka, floating about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What happened?” Grandma Josephine called out. She had floated clear of the bed and was hovering near the ceiling in her nightshirt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Did we go too far?” Charlie asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Too <i>far</i>?” cried Mr. Wonka. “I’ll say we went too far! You know where we’ve gone, my friends? We’ve gone into orbit!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They gaped, they gasped, they stared. They were too flabbergasted to speak.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“We are now rushing around the earth at seventeen thousand miles an hour,” Mr. Wonka said. “How does that grab you?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’m choking!” gasped Grandma Georgina. “I can’t breathe!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Of course you can’t,” said Mr. Wonka. “There’s no air up here.” He sort of swam across under the ceiling to a button marked OXYGEN. He pressed it. “You’ll be all right now,” he said. “Breathe away.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“This is the queerest feeling,” Charlie said, swimming about. “I feel like a bubble.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“It’s great,” said Grandpa Joe. “It feels as though I don’t weigh anything at all.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You don’t,” said Mr. Wonka. “None of us weighs anything—not even one ounce.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What piffle!” said Grandma Georgina. “I weigh eighty-seven pounds exactly.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Not now you don’t,” said Mr. Wonka. “You are completely weightless.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The three old ones, Grandpa George, Grandma Georgina and Grandma Josephine were trying frantically to get back into the bed, but without success. The bed was floating about in mid-air. They, of course, were also floating, and every time they got above the bed and tried to lie down, they simply floated up out of it. Charlie and Grandpa Joe were hooting with laughter. “What’s so funny?” said Grandma Josephine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“We’ve got you out of bed at last,” said Grandpa Joe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Shut up and help us back!” snapped Grandma Josephine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Forget it,” said Mr. Wonka. “You’ll never stay down. Just keep floating around and be happy.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“The man’s a madman!” cried Grandma Georgina. “Watch out, I say, or he’ll lixivate the lot of us!”</span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-87214404970614272652016-09-07T00:00:00.000-05:002016-09-07T00:00:31.862-05:00Excerpt & GIVEAWAY: Fighting to Be Free by Kirsty Moseley<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">All his life, people have told Jamie Cole that he was born bad. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. But that doesn't matter now. Because after a lifetime of demons, Jamie has finally found an angel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Ellie Pearce learned the hard way that boys can't be trusted. But the night she meets Jamie, something shifts. He's different: brooding, a bit dark, determined to change. The connection they share is intense, compelling. Ellie tries to resist, but with each breathtaking kiss, she can't help falling deeper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Things between Ellie and Jamie are perfect—and perfection can't last. When fate goes horribly wrong, Jamie's only hope of saving his family is to strike a deal with the devil. Most of all, Jamie wants to prove he's the person Ellie believes him to be. But if she learns just how much he's been hiding, Ellie won't be able to believe anything Jamie has ever told her…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">The original Wattpad sensation, with 6 million reads online – fully revised and with brand new content!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">Kirsty Moseley has always been a passionate reader with stories brewing in her head. Once she discovered Wattpad, she finally posted a story. Seven million reads later, she self-published her debut novel, The Boy who Sneaks in my Bedroom Window, which later became a finalists for the 2012 Goodreads' Choice Awards. Kirsty lives in Norfolk, England with her husband and son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He rolled onto his side, reaching out his hand and pulling me against him as he slowly ran his hands down my back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“That was incredible, Ellie,” he murmured, kissing my nose. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stroked his fingers across my cheekbone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I smiled and sighed contentedly. “Yeah, it was.” And it really had been. That was incredible; he had been soft and tender, his hands seeming to explore every part of me as he’d taken my body to heaven and back again. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him, tangling our legs together as he just looked at every inch of my face with a small, satisfied smile on his lips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You don’t have much stuff,” I stated after we’d been silently cuddling on his bed for a couple of minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He frowned. “Uh, no, I haven’t even been here a week.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Where were you living before?” I probed, wanting to hear the sound of his sexy voice some more. He shifted uncomfortably, and I took the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it. “That’s okay, you don’t have to say.” I rolled so that I was on top of him and sat up, straddling him. He ran his hands up my thighs and rested them on my hips, just watching me with a satisfied smile on his face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I sighed. It was time to go. This was where it got a little awkward. What was I supposed to say? Thanks and good-bye? “So, I guess I should get going. Would you mind calling me a cab?” I asked, climbing off him and looking around the room for my clothes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The bed creaked behind me. “You’re going? Why?” I didn’t need to look to know he would be frowning—I could hear the shock in his tone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I smiled at him over my shoulder. He was sitting up on the bed, a little pouty expression on his face as he watched my every move. “Well, I’ve never had a one-night stand before, but I thought that was how it worked: You have sex and then you leave,” I joked as I pulled on my panties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He shook his head. “No, I mean, why do you have to go now? You can stay the night; I’ll drive you home in the morning.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You want me to stay the night?” I asked disbelievingly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He pushed himself up off the bed and walked to me in all his naked glory. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his body. “Yeah, I want you to stay the night,” he confirmed, smiling his sexy smile at me, making my stomach flutter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Oh, I can definitely stay the night!</i></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-35612394771935287272016-09-06T00:00:00.000-05:002016-09-06T00:00:07.058-05:00Happy Release Day GIVEAWAY: The Protector by Jodi Ellen Malpas<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> </b>Jodi Ellen Malpas is the <i>New York Times</i> and <i>Sunday Times</i> (UK) bestselling author of two romantic trilogies: This Man and One Night. Now, Jodi Ellen Malpas is back with her long-awaited next novel—and her first stand-alone story—<b>THE PROTECTOR</b> (Forever; September 6, 2016).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People think they have Camille Logan nailed: rich kid, daddy’s girl, beautiful, and spoiled. But Camille knows that support from her ultra-wealthy and overbearing father comes with a price tag not worth paying for. She wants a life without his strings. Out on her own, she’s made a few mistakes, including one that found her clawing her way back after a stint in rehab and plenty of bad press. Now, after fighting so hard to be independent and happy, she finds her life threatened as a result of her father’s questionable business dealings. She has no choice but to play ball when he hires an ex-SAS sniper to protect her at all costs. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jake Sharp resides in his own personal hell. He had been distracted from duty once before and the consequences were devastating, both personally and professionally. He vowed to never let that happen again. Being the bodyguard to socialite model Camille is exactly the kind of low pressure job he needs. But he quickly comes to discover that Camille isn’t what he expected. She’s warm and emotionally generous, and she slowly succeeds in drawing him out of his tough exterior. Jake’s past haunts him. Camille’s presence settles him. But he can’t have both. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> British talent <b>Jodi Ellen Malpas</b> sold hundreds of thousands of e-books of her passionately erotic trilogy <i>This Man</i> before landing a major US publishing deal and sailing straight to the top of the <i>New York Times</i> bestsellers chart in a few short months. Success quickly followed in the UK, with thousands of readers falling head-over-heels for the devastatingly handsome Lord of the Manor Jesse Ward and his feisty counterpart, Ava O’Shea, as all three books became major <i>Sunday Times</i> bestsellers. This was followed by further success with her second series <i>One Night,</i> which introduced the irresistibly enigmatic M. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Jodi was born and raised in the Midlands town of Northampton, England, where she lives with her two boys and a beagle. She is a self-professed daydreamer, a Converse and, mojito addict, and has a terrible weak spot for Alpha Males. For more information, visit Jodi online at: <a href="http://www.jodiellenmalpas.co.uk/"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;">www.jodiellenmalpas.co.uk</span></a></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black;">, or</span><span style="color: black; line-height: normal;"> <a href="http://www.facebook.com/JodiEllenMalpas"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">www.facebook.com/JodiEllenMalpas</span></a></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black;">, or</span><span style="color: #0433ff; text-decoration: underline;"> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/JodiEllenMalpas"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">www.twitter.com/JodiEllenMalpas</span></a>.</span></span><br />
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-5222455984540530232016-09-05T13:24:00.001-05:002016-09-05T13:24:31.523-05:00Excerpt & GIVEAWAY: Run To You by Rachel Lacey<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IBnXrxJB_GI/V8231IpYrdI/AAAAAAAADS8/sHKWCtq9uMEfCc_Yzw04U0Y1xTltLLS3wCLcB/s1600/Run%2Bto%2BYou%2Bcover.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IBnXrxJB_GI/V8231IpYrdI/AAAAAAAADS8/sHKWCtq9uMEfCc_Yzw04U0Y1xTltLLS3wCLcB/s320/Run%2Bto%2BYou%2Bcover.JPG" width="197" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">ONE LITTLE LIE. A WHOLE LOTTA TROUBLE. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Moments after meeting the most gorgeous guy ever, Gabby Winters promptly gets stung by a zillion yellow jackets and falls-not gracefully-into a stream. Yup, Ethan Hunter is trouble with a capital "hot," and Gabby definitely needs to keep her distance. Except in the small town of Haven, there's nowhere to hide from Ethan's sexy, infectious grin . . . and all the residents are conspiring against her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">At the center of the town's matchmaking is Ethan's grandmother, who's convinced their relationship is a done deal. Rather than break her heart, Gabby and Ethan find themselves cornered into pretending to be falling in love. The problem: there's serious sizzling attraction between them. And if this charade continues, they won't fool just the entire town - they might fool themselves too . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;"><b>Rachel Lacey</b> is a contemporary romance author and semi-reformed travel junkie. She's been climbed by a monkey on a mountain in Japan, gone scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, and camped out overnight in New York City for a chance to be an extra in a movie. These days, the majority of her adventures take place on the pages of the books she writes. She lives in warm and sunny North Carolina with her husband, son, and a variety of rescue pets.<br />
<br /><b> </b><a href="http://www.rachellacey.com/"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><b>Website</b></span></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/RachelLaceyAuthor"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><b>Facebook</b></span></a><b> | </b><a href="https://twitter.com/rachelslacey"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><b>Twitter</b></span></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8150779.Rachel_Lacey"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><b>GoodReads</b></span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When Ethan awoke, sunlight was streaming through his window, and based on the tent in his sheets, Gabby was still on his mind. He closed his eyes and started counting backward from fifty, his morning tradition to relieve the pressure so that he could leave the bedroom without being indecent in front of Gram.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">His dick was just starting to relax when his phone pinged with an incoming text. Welcoming the distraction, he reached over and grabbed it off the nightstand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The text was from Gabby. <i>Thinking about you this morning and hoping that problem we talked about hasn’t gotten too hard to handle. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">She’d inserted a little winking emoticon at the end, followed by a sunrise and a tree. Morning wood. And yep, that problem had just gotten <i>really</i> hard again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Killing me.</i> He texted back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>That bad, huh?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Oh yeah, it was bad. Getting worse by the second.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I’d be happy to help you with it if you want to stop by</i>…<i> </i>This was followed by several colorful hearts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">His poor cock ached at the thought. But… <i>No can do. Gotta take Gram to an appointment</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Oh. Bummer.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>No kidding. Gotta go</i>. Chatting with you is not helping the issue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He thrust his phone back onto the bedside table and lay there, concentrating on the sounds of Gram moving around in the kitchen until his dick finally accepted defeat. Then he went down the hall and took a long, cold shower.</span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-10682274609890006812016-09-05T13:10:00.002-05:002016-09-05T13:10:17.738-05:00GIVEAWAY: Die Young With Me by Rob Rufus<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This fall, critically acclaimed musician Rob Rufus tackles a new form of storytelling with his debut memoir <b><i>Die Young With Me</i></b>, the true story of his teenage battle with cancer alongside his growth into a punk rock star.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Growing up in the Middle of Nowhere, West Virginia, Rob and his twin brother Nat spent most of their days skateboarding down sidewalks in the sweltering summer heat, the closest thing to teenage rebellion that could be found in a Podunk southern town – until a visit to an older cousin unexpectedly introduces them to their life’s calling: punk rock. After scrounging up instruments, Rob, Nat and their friends form Defiance of Authority and quickly take the local scene by storm. Suddenly they have purpose, a goal. The band is on the verge of their big break – a gig on the Warped Tour, the holy grail of rock festivals – when Rob is unexpectedly diagnosed with stage four cancer. After waiting his whole life for the future to finally arrive – bringing with it the chance to get out of his hometown, hit the road, discover something more – Rob and his family must cope with the sudden, bitter truth that tomorrow is never guaranteed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perfect for fans of <i>The Fault in Our Stars</i>, but with a grittier edge, <b><i>Die Young With Me</i></b><i> </i>doesn’t shy away from the ugly facts of battling cancer – the nightmarish treatments, the blinding pain, the unbearable nausea, and the devastation not only to the patient but everyone around them – bringing a visceral reality to a disease that is so often romanticized. Rufus tells his grim story with the stripped down rawness and bold irreverence of the punk rock movement, and finds humor and wisdom in a refreshingly candid teen voice that will delight fans of YA. Readers whose lives have been touched by the disease will empathize with the crushing lows and soaring highs, while audiences of all ages will remember what it’s like to be a teenager trying to find your place in the world, one act of defiance at a time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Rob Rufus </b>is a musician and writer living in Nashville. His band, Blacklist Royals, has released two full-length albums and played in sixteen countries over the past five years. Rob has written articles for <i>Modern Drummer</i>, <i>Amp Magazine</i>, <i>Digital Tour Bus</i>, and many music sites. Rob also works closely with the cancer community, including the Lance Armstrong Foundation, Stupid Cancer Podcast (the largest advocacy/support organization worldwide for teens with cancer), and Make-A-Wish Foundation. You can find him online at robrufus.net, on Twitter @rob_rufus, and Instagram @dieyoungwithme_official.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> You’ve previously told the story of <i>Die Young With Me</i> in an album of the same name. How do you approach storytelling differently in lyrics versus in prose? Was your songwriting experience helpful when it came to writing a memoir? </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A:</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> I actually began my first attempt at the memoir three years before that album would ever come into fruition. I had the title and everything – but I just never thought the book would see the light of day. So when my brother and I began pooling our collective songs for a new Blacklist Royals album, and we realized they all reflected on the time when I was sick, I just decided to run with it. We wanted to tell our story, one way or another.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But there are two huge differences in the process of telling a story in lyrics vs. prose. Firstly, song lyrics are secondary to the hook. If you have amazing lyrics, but no hook, then it’s a moot point. More importantly, song lyrics are always open to interpretation – the listener may get your meaning, or they may hear an alternate meaning entirely, or they may not hear any substance at all. For a songwriter, this can get really frustrating. But it’s something I’ve learned to accept.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tackling such a personal subject through prose has been much more gratifying for me. In a book, not much is left open for interpretation – it’s me and my rants in full stereo sound, volume cranked up, take it or leave it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> How long did it take before you could look back on what happened with the kind of clarity that you display in the book? Was writing this memoir part of the recovery process, a kind of catharsis?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A: </span><span style="font-kerning: none;">For about ten years I did nothing but tour. I was in a different city every night, with a different group of people. No one knew I’d had cancer, or I had health problems, or where I was from. I could be whoever I wanted to be – and, for a while, I tried to escape my past with every form of rock-n-roll self-destruction available. But it didn’t work out too well…what a shock, huh?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the end, running just left me more twisted up. Beginning the memoir was a way for me to face my past head on, and to reconnect with the part of myself that I’d lost. It was an uphill battle, reopening those wounds. I’d never expected telling my story to be easy, but Jesus. It took some time for me to really step back. But I feel unburdened, for sure. I’m glad I was able to honor that chapter of my life, own it, and move forward. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not many people can say they did that, so I feel very fortunate for the chance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> In the book, you describe how your first doctors were biased against taking you seriously due to your alternative look. Do you think that’s something that would still happen today? Have we learned anything at all as a society?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A:</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> No, I can’t imagine that specifically happening today. Now that Justin Bieber and the guy from Maroon 5 are covered in tattoos, I think we can assume that alternative rock counter-culture is dead and gone, ha-ha.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it happens in other respects. As a sufferer of chronic pain, it still happens to me all the time. No matter what my medical chart says, no matter how many scars I have, as soon as a doctor at the pain clinic sees me – a young guy with tattoos that plays music and writes for a living – a skeptical chill spreads through the air. <i>Am I really in pain? Or do I just want drugs?</i> The hoops I have to jump through would shock even the most hardened bureaucrat. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> If you could go back in time and give your teenage self a piece of advice, what would it be?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A:</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> I’d tell myself to live inside the moment more often. Even before I was sick, my whole life revolved around moving forward – getting my band off the ground, getting out of West Virginia, etc. I was too young to understand that success is a moving target. There will always be another goal, another milestone to inspire forward momentum. Sometimes I wish I could have recognized that, and would’ve taken a step back to enjoy being a kid a little more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But that being said, I’m a 33-year-old man who does nothing but travel around, create art, and listen to rock-n-roll records…so maybe I’m making up for that “being a kid” part now, after all.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> What one thing do you hope readers take away from Die Young With Me?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A:</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> I hope that <i>Die Young With Me</i> gives readers some insight into the true weight of a cancer diagnosis, both for the patients and the caregivers. I believe that, to feel any meaningful empathy toward a situation, one has to understand the gravity of it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But in American popular culture, teenage cancer exists comfortably behind a rose-tinted wall. It’s made to seem simple, whitewashed, and even romantic. I’m not ok with that. So I thought it was time someone came along and broke that wall down. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><b>Q:</b></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b> Will we see more books from you in the future?</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;">A:</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> I'm always writing. Right now I'm working on my second book, which is based on my grandmother, Mammaw Rufus. She was a go-go dancer, a nurse in a WV mental institution, and a proud country music groupie - she scored with George Jones, Boots Randolph, some big fish. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a book of short stories completed. I’ve also begun drafting what I like to call my “road book,” sort of a follow-up to <i>Die Young With Me</i>. I’m very excited about that one. The things I see in my travels are weirder than anything I could ever make up.</span></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-78997075505554625032016-09-05T12:39:00.003-05:002016-09-05T12:39:40.538-05:00Author Interview: Julia Day (The Possibility of Somewhere)<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KvnhG4zzSDk/Uydo-PhIQiI/AAAAAAAAA-U/_thgQ8JiTD4/s1600/author+interview+6.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="58" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KvnhG4zzSDk/Uydo-PhIQiI/AAAAAAAAA-U/_thgQ8JiTD4/s1600/author+interview+6.PNG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<b style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Julia Day</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>"An engaging read...full of drama." </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>School Library Journal </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“</i>Eden will lure readers with her willful refusal to allow poverty and hardship to define or limit her.” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>Publishers Weekly </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>In her contemporary YA debut, <b>THE POSSIBILITY OF SOMEWHERE (St. Martin’s Griffin; September 6, 2016), </b>Julia Day uses Jane Austen’s <i>Pride and Prejudice </i>to frame a sweet story about two overachieving high school students who want more than their small hometown has to offer. Ash and Eden are fighting their parents’ expectations, their school social status, and each other for the valedictorian spot, but when they are forced to work on a class project together – something seems to change. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ash Gupta has a life full of possibility. His senior year is going exactly as he’s always wanted– he's admired by his peers, enjoying his classes and getting the kind of grades that his wealthy, immigrant parents expect. There's only one obstacle in Ash's path: Eden Moore—the senior most likely to become class valedictorian. How could this unpopular, sharp-tongued girl from the wrong side of the tracks stand in his way? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All Eden's ever wanted was a way out. Her perfect GPA should be enough to guarantee her a free ride to college– and an exit from her trailer-park existence for good. The last thing she needs is a bitter rivalry with Ash, who wants a prized scholarship for his own selfish reasons. Or so she thinks… When Eden ends up working with Ash on a class project, she discovers that the two have more in common than either of them could have imagined. They’re both in pursuit of a dream – one that feels within reach thanks to their new connection. But what does the future hold for two passionate souls from totally different worlds? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With a cast of characters that feel very real, from an autistic four-year-old boy Eden babysits to the new girl in school who shakes things up, <b>THE POSSIBLITY OF SOMEWHERE </b>is a look back into the awkward period in high school when the future is in transit. A touching back to school read about first relationships, Day’s contemporary YA debut will have you falling in love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">JULIA DAY lives in North Carolina, halfway between the beaches and the mountains. She has two twenty-something daughters and one geeky old husband. When she's not writing software or stories, Julia enjoys traveling with her family, watching dance reality shows on TV, and dreaming about which restaurant ought to get her business that night. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do you give your books their titles before or after they're written?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I often have a title picked out by the time the first two chapters of a manuscript are done. However, that wasn’t true with <i>The Possibility of Somewhere</i>. I wrote it under a working title. When St Martin’s acquired this book, my editor and I collaborated on what the title should be. She suggested <i>The Possibility of *Something*</i>, and I counter-suggested with <i>Somewhere</i>. We’re both really happy with the result.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m writing a second book for St Martin’s, set in a summer teen theater camp. I’m nearly done with the rough draft, and I still call it <i>Untitled #2.</i></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which one do you prefer, writing books or software?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Writing software is easier. The rules are simple. I tell the software what to do, and it obeys. If I write anything wrong, the software tells me how to fix it. And when I’m done, everything works. It’s a great system.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Writing books is so much harder. I can follow the rules, and the story still won’t work. The characters do as they please, and the harder I try to fix the problems, they worse they get. But one of the best parts of writing is that I don’t have to do it alone. I have a wonderful editor and fabulous beta-readers. They often see what I’m missing. They’ll give the perfect piece of advice and, suddenly, the story is waiting there for me, wanting to be told.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like writing software. I <i>love</i> writing books.<b> </b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Out of all the places you've traveled to, which one is your favorite?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would have a hard time picking just one—so I’ll give three.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The hardest to get to but absolutely worth it:</b> <i>Antarctica</i>. It took us half a day to fly to South America, and then a couple of days on a ship to get there. But I didn’t mind, because Antarctica was amazing. I could sit on a deck chair and stare at the ice floes and penguins for hours without getting bored.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Easy to get to and completely unexpected:</b> <i>Iceland.</i> This country is only a five-hour flight from New York City—and so much fun when you get there (near <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_569808267" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">midnight</span></span> and the sun hasn’t set yet!). The landscape is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. I can understand why so many movies are filmed there. The flat, barren lava fields are unique and eerie. I’m happy to say that there is also a capital city with exciting things to do and friendly people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>If you could only go to one of these places, though, it has to be: </b><i>New Zealand</i>. NZ has it all. Wonderful cities. Beautiful beaches. Breathtaking mountains surrounding gorgeous green valleys. All kinds of sports. Interesting culture. Kiwis are welcoming to visitors, vigilant about the environment, and love showing off their country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And there are sheep. Everywhere. They cross the roads whenever they want to, and it doesn’t matter if you were there first.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do you have favorite characters from any of your works?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m not sure that I can pick my favorite, so I’ll choose the one who hurt the most to write. His name was Sean. The first thing I knew about him was that he had cancer, and that he wouldn’t survive it. It was really difficult to see this amazing character appear on the page and know he wouldn’t have a happy ending.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What is your favorite part about being an author?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Giving a voice to a character whose story deserves to be heard.</span></div>
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✦ <span style="font-size: 22px; line-height: normal;">1 </span>✦</div>
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An Exercise in</div>
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Probabilities</div>
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<span style="font-size: 32.5px; line-height: normal;">M</span>y normal dress code was designed to keep me invisible,</div>
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but today I made an exception. I wore a teal shirt (stolen</div>
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from my dad) over jeans that had only been owned by me. I fi nished</div>
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off with my best sneakers, freshly bleached.</div>
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After yanking my hair into a ponytail, I grabbed my backpack,</div>
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charged out of my bedroom, and screeched to a halt in the</div>
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den. The trailer smelled like toast and bacon. Why?</div>
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I crossed to the table and stared down at the plate of food waiting</div>
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there.</div>
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My stepmom came out of the kitchen, holding two mugs of</div>
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coffee. She offered one to me.</div>
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I took it as my backpack slid to the fl oor with a thud. “You</div>
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made me breakfast?”</div>
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She laughed. “I’ve done this before.”</div>
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“When I was nine, maybe.” The bacon looked like it had been</div>
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fried to crispy perfection. I parked my butt on the chair and</div>
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snagged a slice. “What’s the occasion?”</div>
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<span style="line-height: normal;">2 </span><span style="line-height: normal;">✦ </span>Julia Day</div>
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Her smile wobbled. “It’s the fi rst day of your last year of high</div>
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school.”</div>
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Oh, damn. She was going to get emotional on me. This day</div>
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must remind her that I’d be gone in a few months. It wouldn’t be</div>
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a good idea to act all happy about escaping town soon. Better</div>
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change the mood fast. “Breakfast is amazing. You can repeat it</div>
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whenever you want.”</div>
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“I’ll keep that in mind.” She set her mug on the table and</div>
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pointed at my ponytail. “Can I do something special with your</div>
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hair?”</div>
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Clearly she wanted to, so sure. “That’d be great.”</div>
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While I fi nished my toast, she twisted my hair into a thick</div>
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French braid. It took only a couple of minutes before she pressed</div>
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a kiss to the top of my head. “ There you are, sweetie. Now go on,</div>
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or you’ll miss the bus.”</div>
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“Okay.” I stood, gave her a quick hug, and slung my backpack</div>
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over one shoulder. “Thanks, Marnie. For every thing.”</div>
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The bus dropped us off fi fteen minutes early, something that</div>
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would never happen again. I went straight to my fi rst- period class.</div>
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AP En glish Lit with my favorite teacher.</div>
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“Morning, Ms. Barrie,” I said.</div>
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She didn’t look up from her computer. “Hello, Eden.”</div>
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I slipped into a desk in the back row and watched as my classmates</div>
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trickled in.</div>
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My next class would be statistics, although it had been a recent</div>
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change. I’d realized in middle school that college was my best</div>
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route out of Heron, and I wouldn’t get to college without serious</div>
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scholarships. So I’d mapped out my high school curriculum in</div>
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The Possibility of Somewhere <span style="line-height: normal;">✦ </span><span style="line-height: normal;">3</span></div>
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seventh grade, picking each course to maximize my GPA. Everything</div>
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had gone according to plan until three weeks ago, when</div>
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I’d switched to a dif fer ent math class and elective. The decision</div>
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had seemed bold at the time. Now, it felt crazy.</div>
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After English, I dropped by my locker and arrived late for</div>
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second period. With ner vous anticipation, I smiled at my statistics</div>
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teacher and turned toward the back.</div>
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“Wait, Eden. Sit there.” Mrs. Menzies gestured at an empty</div>
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seat on the front row.</div>
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I paused, looking from the desk to her. She eyed me steadily,</div>
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a challenge in her expression.</div>
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Did she expect me to argue with her? I certainly wanted to.</div>
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Swallowing hard, I took my seat.</div>
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“All right, every one. I’m glad that you’ve chosen to take</div>
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Advanced Placement Statistics . . .”</div>
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I tuned out what she said, too annoyed to listen to what ever</div>
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welcoming remarks she had for us. They would be on her syllabus</div>
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anyway. I was consumed with shrugging off how much it</div>
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bothered me to sit in the front with a dozen pairs of eyes behind</div>
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me. Were they watching me? Prob ably not, but I didn’t like that</div>
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it was a possibility.</div>
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Even deep breaths betrayed me, because they fi lled my head</div>
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with the soapy- clean, spicy- cologne scent of Ash Gupta. Why did</div>
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Mrs. Menzies have me sitting next to him?</div>
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“. . . you’ll have one group proj ect and one individual assignment</div>
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due each week . . .”</div>
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I glanced at her. Group proj ects already? Was that why we had</div>
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assigned seats?</div>
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“. . . that’s it for now. Form into your teams. I’ll hand out your</div>
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fi rst proj ect.”</div>
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<span style="line-height: normal;">4 </span><span style="line-height: normal;">✦ </span>Julia Day</div>
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The sounds of dragging chairs and laughing voices fi lled the</div>
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room. I checked around. Was I the only one who didn’t know what</div>
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to do?</div>
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Ash was looking at me, pained resignation on his face. “ You’re</div>
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with us, Eden.”</div>
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I dragged my desk into the circle beside him. There were fi ve</div>
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of us in the group. Upala and Dev were Ash’s friends. A built-in</div>
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alliance. They would vote as a bloc even if I could get the last</div>
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guy on my side.</div>
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The next few minutes blurred into the rhythms of a proj ect</div>
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team pretending to become cohesive. I didn’t join in, listening</div>
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instead to Ash control the discussion and watching as Mrs. Menzies</div>
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went from group to group, dropping off a large bag of M&Ms,</div>
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several paper bowls, and the proj ect sheet. When she fi nally</div>
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arrived at our circle, she described what she wanted and then gave</div>
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me a hard stare.</div>
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“I want collaboration from every one.”</div>
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Message received— although it was unnecessary. I participated</div>
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when it mattered. Reaching for the M&M bag, I fi lled a bowl and</div>
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began separating the candies by color. An exercise in probabilities.</div>
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“Before we go any further,” Ash was saying, “we should pick</div>
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a leader for the team. How do we want to choose?”</div>
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“Might as well cut the bullshit, Ash,” I said without looking</div>
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up. “You want the job. No one’s going to fi ght you. Just take it by</div>
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acclamation.”</div>
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Silence greeted my speech. I glanced at him. His gaze held</div>
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mine for a second before he frowned at his notebook, picked up</div>
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a pen, and began drawing tiny perfect squares, one after the</div>
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other. I looked at the rest of the team. Upala and Dev glared at</div>
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me but didn’t disagree with my suggestion. Prob ably hated that</div>
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it had come from me, though.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“A painfully honest and powerful depiction of the changing nature of friendships in the face of hardship and an exploration of what it means ‘to be human and alive.’” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>Booklist </i>on <i>Breakaway, </i>STARRED Review </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“A compelling debut told with swagger and real depth.” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>Kirkus Reviews </i>on <i>Sway, </i>STARRED Review </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“There’s not a single canned emotion to be found...A rare study of growing pains that gives equal weight to humor and hardship.” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>Kirkus Reviews </i>on <i>Breakaway, </i>STARRED Review </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From the critically-acclaimed author of <i>Sway </i>and <i>Breakaway</i>, Kat Spears returns with <b>THE BOY WHO KILLED GRANT PARKER (St. Martin’s Griffin; September 13, 2016)</b>, a high stakes young adult contemporary story of a city teen who moves to a small town and finds himself head to head with the local bully. With her newest novel, Spears pens a relatable story about social hierarchy in high school and exploring your identity when things don’t go quite as planned. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Luke Grayson’s life might as well be over when he’s sent to live with his Baptist pastor father in rural Tennessee after getting kicked out of his DC private school. His soulless stepmother is none too pleased to have him, and Luke’s bad boy status has done him no favors with his new principal or the local police chief. He’s also an easy target for Grant Parker, the local golden boy with a violent streak, who has the community of Ashland under his thumb and Luke directly in his crosshairs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But things go topsy-turvy when, after a freak accident, Luke replaces Grant at the top of the social pyramid. This fish out of water has suddenly gone from social outcast to hero in a matter of twenty-four hours. For the students who have lived in fear of Grant all their lives, this is a welcome change. But Luke’s newfound fame comes with a price. Nobody knows the truth about what really happened to Grant Parker except for Luke, and the longer he keeps living the lie, the more like Grant he becomes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This explosive coming of age story delves into the labels put on us not only by society but the ones we put on ourselves, and the work it takes to find out who we really are underneath all the lies. As school starts back up again and teens once again deal with the jungle of high school, <b>THE BOY WHO KILLED GRANT PARKER </b>is the perfect fall young adult read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>KAT SPEARS </b>has worked as a bartender, museum director, housekeeper, park ranger, business manager, and painter (not the artistic kind). She holds an M.A. in anthropology, which has helped to advance her bartending career. She lives in Richmond, Virginia with her three freeloading kids. She is also the author of <i>Sway </i>and <i>Breakaway</i>. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Additional Praise for Kat Spears: </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"As in her debut novel, <i>Sway</i>, Spears showcases a talent for creating believably flawed characters seeking connection in the aftermath of tragedy." </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>Publishers Weekly</i>, STARRED Review on <i>Breakaway </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“This sad yet hopeful romance will appeal to readers of Steven Chbosky’s <i>The Perks of Being a Wallflower </i>and Jay Asher’s <i>Thirteen Reasons Why</i>.” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>School Library Journal </i>on <i>Breakaway </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Spears develops Jesse’s character so thoroughly readers will believe they know him. A compelling debut told with swagger and real depth.” —<b><i>Kirkus Reviews, </i>STARRED Review on <i>Sway </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Perspective is handled beautifully…Readers will be torn between wanting a guy like him around to make things happen and wanting to fix him so he isn’t that guy anymore, and they’ll be heartened when he ends up a little of both.” </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">—<i>The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books </i>on <i>Sway </i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“</i>Kat Spears debut novel is, quite simply, a delight. It has all the ingredients for an engaging and witty read, laced with honesty and insight that’s refreshingly real. If anything, Kat Spears may just be the one with some very valuable sway; get ready to be sold.” <b>—<i>The Children’s Book Review </i>on <i>Sway </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Spears’ debut novel sets an update on Cyrano de Bergerac in a contemporary high school, with noir undertones. Jesse’s first-person narration is raw, honest, and marks his growth over the course of the novel. A gritty take on the male high-school experience.” <b>—<i>Booklist </i>on <i>Sway </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“At first glance, this novel seems like a typical Cyrano de Bergerac-type story, but it’s much deeper than that, touching on topics such as parent abandonment, disabilities, bullying and love. An engaging story that will stay with readers long past the final page.” <b>—<i>School Library Journal </i>on <i>Sway </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.5px;">A new student might have gone unnoticed for days or weeks</span></div>
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(maybe months if he played his cards right) at my old school.</div>
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Washington, DC, was such a transient city that people were</div>
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always coming and going. But in Ashland, I might as well</div>
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have been wearing a bell announcing myself as a leper.</div>
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People stared and spoke in low voices to each other as I</div>
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passed in the hallway.</div>
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If I heard laughter, I assumed it was directed toward me,</div>
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as if every thing about me was under scrutiny—my clothes,</div>
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my hair, the way I walked, the Mount Vesuvius– like stress</div>
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pimple that had erupted on my chin that morning.</div>
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The only thing I had going for me, maybe, was that my</div>
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appearance was almost depressingly average. I might as</div>
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well have been wall paper. And that was exactly the way I</div>
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wanted it—to blend into the background and go unnoticed.</div>
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I managed to fi nd the offi ce without asking anyone for</div>
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directions, and the receptionist greeted me in a southern</div>
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drawl so outrageous it seemed like it had to be a put-on.</div>
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“I’m Luke Grayson,” I said. “I’m new here.” Captain Obvious.</div>
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As a stranger in Ashland, I stuck out like a boner in</div>
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sweatpants.</div>
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“Well,” she said, the word gusting out as she folded her</div>
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hands on the desk and pressed them into her bosom, “I go</div>
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to your daddy’s church, and I never knew anything about</div>
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Pastor Grayson having a son until we got word you were</div>
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coming. Of course, he’s such a busy man, what with all the</div>
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goings-on we’ve had since Easter. Three funerals in as many</div>
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months. Never a good sign if a church has more funerals</div>
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than baptisms, wouldn’t you say?”</div>
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the boy who killed grant parker 5</div>
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I wouldn’t, but I kept my mouth shut and tried to convey</div>
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concern in my expression, though it was a lie. The tardy</div>
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bell rang as she droned on about the business of my dad’s</div>
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church, and I feigned interest, while in my mind all I could</div>
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really focus on was the fact that I would now have to enter</div>
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class late and be even more of a spectacle than I already</div>
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was.</div>
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“Principal Sherman wants to have a quick visit with you</div>
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before you start the day,” the receptionist said, once it was</div>
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obvious I was going to fail miserably at making small talk,</div>
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and then she picked up the receiver of the ancient desk</div>
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phone.</div>
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As I was shown into the principal’s offi ce he came</div>
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around from behind his desk to shake my hand and gestured</div>
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for me to take one of the hard- backed chairs, though</div>
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a leather couch along one wall off ered a more comfortable</div>
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option. He was middle- aged, with the paunch of a former</div>
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football player, and his doughy hands clashed with the tailored</div>
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suit he wore. His desk was an ocean of polished oak,</div>
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and my chair was at least a few inches lower to the ground</div>
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than his so that I felt small and insignifi cant sitting across</div>
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from him. I disliked him immediately, feeling that he would</div>
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have been more at home on a used- car lot than in a high</div>
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school administration offi ce. And once he started talking, I</div>
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knew the disproportionate height of the chairs and the size</div>
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of the desk were both power plays, his intention to make</div>
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whoever sat across from him feel powerless.</div>
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“So, Mr. Grayson,” he said as he crossed one leg over</div>
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the other, shot his cuff s, and twitched his hand to settle a</div>
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heavy gold watch against a meaty wrist. “How are you settling</div>
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in?”</div>
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6 kat spears</div>
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“Uh. Fine, I guess.” My response came out as a wavering</div>
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question since I wasn’t sure how well I should have settled</div>
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in during the fi ve minutes I had been at Wakefi eld High</div>
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School.</div>
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He just nodded at my answer, as if it was the response</div>
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he had been expecting but wasn’t really interested in</div>
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whether it was true.</div>
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The ocean of wood between us housed only a phone and</div>
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a pen holder with a faux- bronze nameplate on the front of</div>
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it. The name leslie g. sherman was inscribed on the</div>
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plaque. I wondered what the “G” stood for and how he felt</div>
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about having a girl’s name. I could only assume the “G”</div>
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stood for something worse than Leslie. I was distracted with</div>
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trying to think of a name worse than Leslie that started with</div>
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a “G”— Garfi eld? Grover?— when he startled me with his attack</div>
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run.</div>
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“Since it’s your fi rst day here I’m not going to make a</div>
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federal case out of it, but we do have a student dress code.”</div>
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He was looking so pointedly at my chest that I couldn’t help</div>
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but steal a self- conscious glance at my Death Cab for Cutie</div>
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T- shirt. My stepmom, Doris, had already made a federal</div>
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case out of my shirt that morning at breakfast.</div>
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“Oh. Really?” I asked innocently.</div>
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“Yes. Really,” he said with such condescension that</div>
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I wondered if he had kids of his own who hated him.</div>
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“T- shirts with printed designs have been strictly forbidden</div>
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since the Columbine tragedy.” His expression conveyed the</div>
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very real concern that my T- shirt would inspire a Columbinelike</div>
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incident.</div>
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“Okay,” I said as I tried to think of what shirts I owned</div>
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the boy who killed grant parker 7</div>
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that didn’t include printed designs. Did a Georgetown University</div>
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sweatshirt count as a printed design? I wasn’t sure.</div>
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But it didn’t seem the right time to ask.</div>
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“Mr. Grayson, I have a great deal of re spect for your</div>
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father,” the principal said, changing the subject abruptly.</div>
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He paused in anticipation after he said this, waiting for an</div>
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appropriate response. I was still shifting gears from Columbine</div>
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and printed T- shirts and I wasn’t sure what an appropriate</div>
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response should be, so the pause dragged on— from</div>
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awkward to painful.</div>
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Fi nally I said, “Thanks.” As if I was entitled to some</div>
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credit for how respectable my father was.</div>
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“Ashland is a strong Christian community, as I’m sure</div>
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you know since your father is a man of God.” I was starting</div>
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to get the sense that he had practiced this speech ahead</div>
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of time. Like he had an agenda and had worked out in his</div>
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mind how to approach it in a roundabout way.</div>
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“Yes. Strong,” I said, feeling like an idiot as I said it.</div>
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My eyes wandered around the room as I tried to think</div>
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of something clever to say to alleviate the impression that I</div>
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was a moron. A large framed print hung on the wall behind</div>
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the desk, the words the principal is my pal— that’s</div>
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the princi ple we live by displayed in colorful block</div>
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letters.</div>
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“I’ve been reviewing your rec ords from your previous</div>
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school,” he said as he reached forward to lift the papers in</div>
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front of him, the implied threat made all the more menacing</div>
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because it was an alarmingly thick stack of papers.</div>
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I wasn’t sure what to say. I deci ded to stay silent, not give</div>
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anything away in case some things hadn’t been committed</div>
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8 kat spears</div>
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to paper. Better to remain silent, not incriminate myself,</div>
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than to start off ering up explanations.</div>
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“Your grades were . . . unexceptional,” he said, maybe</div>
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still trying to be polite.</div>
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Unexceptional was putting it mildly, though I would</div>
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often argue with my mom that a C average was just</div>
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that— average. I didn’t aspire to be anything other than</div>
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average.</div>
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I kept silent, not wanting to do anything that would</div>
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extend my stay in his offi ce.</div>
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“It seems that you also like to challenge authority,</div>
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Mr. Grayson,” Leslie said as he frowned at the second stapled</div>
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page of my permanent rec ord.</div>
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“I went to an all- boys school when I lived in DC,”</div>
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I said with an innocent shrug. “Pranks are just the usual</div>
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there.”</div>
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“This seems much more serious than pranks.” He</div>
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looked at me expectantly over the rims of his reading</div>
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glasses. “ These notes indicate that on one occasion there</div>
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was personal injury to another student and property damage</div>
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to the school. Does that seem like just an innocent</div>
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prank to you, Mr. Grayson?”</div>
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I shifted in my seat as I tried to let my anger dissolve</div>
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before responding. If I came across as snide and pissed, it</div>
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would just make the situation worse. But it was hard— the</div>
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way he called me Mr. Grayson, the way teachers do as if they</div>
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are showing a sign of re spect for students as grown people</div>
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when really they are just patronizing us.</div>
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As I waited for the acid to dissipate from my tongue before</div>
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answering, I thought bitterly of Steve Moyo, my under-</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Guest Post by author Kat Spears:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>(On how to read in the shower)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whenever people ask me how it is possible that I read in the shower, my first response is always—yes, the books get wet. Rest assured I never read library books in the shower and I have always preferred to own books rather than borrow them from the library. I trash my books—dog ear the corners to mark my place, leave them open facedown with the spines cracking under their own weight, and write notes in the margins or underline passages that appeal to me. My mother is a librarian and she absolutely despises people like me. Of course, my treatment of books is not my first or last offense in the eyes of my mother, nor even my most egregious, so I don’t really worry about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Showering is just too boring for me to do without a book. Once I had small children and no longer had time for long, leisurely showers, I was surprised to discover you really can be in and out <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_569808090" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">in five minutes</span></span> if you aren’t reading. Until that point I was showering with one hand, the same way people read while they eat, and I can turn pages with the same hand that is holding the book—a critical skill for any devoted reader. I should also note that at a certain point during the shower I do have to switch hands, transferring the book from the dry to the wet hand so I can wash both sides of my body, and this is really when the book sustains the most injury.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now that my children are a bit older and I can lock them in the attic with a box of dry cereal and an iPad, I have returned to reading in the shower. I’m a big fan of reading the books that I love over and over again. For books by authors like Jane Austen, R.L. Stevenson, Agatha Christie, etc. I usually have what I refer to as “shower copies.” These are books that are already wavy and brittle from being dampened repeatedly and the spine paper has started to lift and curl at the ends. I must own 50 or so paperbacks that are shower copies, all of my favorite mysteries and classic adventure stories. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I should also note that reading in the shower and, thus, taking long showers, is my only personal failing when it comes to being environmentally irresponsible. I don’t use drinking water to keep my grass green and I almost never use plastic in my home if I can help it. So, despite being evil for my treatment of books, I have a pretty good record for my treatment of the planet.</span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-51235478857511549782016-08-03T13:05:00.001-05:002016-08-03T13:11:55.881-05:00GIVEAWAY: Dr. Fell and the Playground of DOOM<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>We hope you’re enjoying the blog tour for David Neilsen’s <i>Dr. Fell and the Playground of Doom</i>! In case you missed yesterday’s post, head over to <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://theboyreader.blogspot.com/&source=gmail&ust=1470334232778000&usg=AFQjCNEMgfxxuLfHyLJYFbEfPpKfxu7mZQ" href="http://theboyreader.blogspot.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">The Boy Reader</a> to check it out. The tour continues <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_1400712919" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">tomorrow</span></span> on <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://batchofbooks.com/&source=gmail&ust=1470334232778000&usg=AFQjCNGQKaMbgdp2QRP8IKwKl0aI2s1qHw" href="http://batchofbooks.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Batch of Books</a>.<u></u><u></u></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3sE9xq7o_zE/V6Ivn5IucoI/AAAAAAAADDw/Knj5421F6qEVQLX8ZqcyU3YOvttJfBwxACLcB/s1600/DR.%2BFELL%2B-%2Bhigh%2Bres%2Bcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3sE9xq7o_zE/V6Ivn5IucoI/AAAAAAAADDw/Knj5421F6qEVQLX8ZqcyU3YOvttJfBwxACLcB/s320/DR.%2BFELL%2B-%2Bhigh%2Bres%2Bcover.jpg" width="211" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;">“Such deliciously creepy fun! I fell in love with Dr. Fell! So will urchins and whippersnappers everywhere.” —</span><b style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: start; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; text-shadow: none;">Chris Grabenstein</b><span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;">, author of the </span><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: start; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; text-shadow: none;">New York Times</i><span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;"> bestsellers </span><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: start; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; text-shadow: none;">Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library</i><span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;"> and </span><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; text-align: start; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; text-shadow: none;">The Island of Dr. Libris</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #333333; text-align: start;">When the mysterious Dr. Fell moves into the abandoned house that had once been the neighborhood kids’ hangout, he immediately builds a playground to win them over. But as the ever-changing play space becomes bigger and more elaborate, the children and their parents fall deeper under the doctor’s spell.</span></span></div>
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Only Jerry, Nancy, and Gail are immune to the lure of his extravagant wonderland. And they alone notice that when the injuries begin to pile up on the jungle gym, somehow Dr. Fell is able to heal each one with miraculous speed. Now the three children must find a way to uncover the doctor’s secret power without being captivated by his trickery.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">David Neilsen is a classically trained actor/storyteller, a journalist, and a theater/improvisation teacher for children and adults. During the Halloween season, David can be found telling spooky tales to audiences of all ages, or performing one of his one-man shows based on the stories of horror author H.P. Lovecraft. David lives in Sleepy Hollow, New York, with his family. "Dr. Fell and the Playground of Doom" is his first novel. Visit him at <a href="http://neilsenparty.wordpress.com/">neilsenparty.wordpress.com</a>.</span><br />
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<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-86944933926479422562016-08-03T00:00:00.000-05:002016-08-03T00:00:35.801-05:00REVIEW: It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">| <a href="http://amzn.to/24TWoDw" target="_blank">Buy on Amazon here</a> |</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">Lily hasn’t always had it easy, but that’s never stopped her from working hard for the life she wants. She’s come a long way from the small town in Maine where she grew up. She graduated from college, moved to Boston, and started her own business. So when she feels a spark with a gorgeous neurosurgeon named Ryle Kincaid everything in Lily’s life suddenly seems almost too good to be true. </span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">Ryle is assertive, stubborn, and maybe even a little arrogant. He’s also sensitive, brilliant and has a total soft spot for Lily; and the way he looks in scrubs certainly doesn’t hurt. Lily can’t get him out of her head, but Ryle’s complete aversion to relationships is disturbing. Even as Lily finds herself becoming the exception to his no dating rule, she can’t help but wonder what made him that way in the first place. </span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">As questions about her new relationship overwhelm her, so do thoughts of Atlas Corrigan, her first love and a link to the past she left behind. He was her kindred spirit, her protector. When Atlas suddenly reappears everything Lily has built with Ryle is threatened. </span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">With this bold and deeply personal novel Colleen Hoover delivers a heart-wrenching story that breaks exciting new ground for her as a writer. Combining a captivating romance with a cast of all too human characters, “It Ends with Us” is an unforgettable tale of love that comes at the ultimate price.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">(Thank you to Atria Books and NetGalley for the early digital copy of this book)</span><br />
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<strong style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">4 out of 5 stars </span></strong><br />
<strong style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please read my rating system further below.</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">★</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"> ★</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"> ★</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"> ★</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">Prior to reading </span><em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">It Ends With Us</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">, I had no idea what it was about. Based off my other reading experiences with Colleen Hoover books, I thought that this book would be a quick and fast read. Prime entertainment. Little did I know that this book was written on a topic that was very personal to the author. Little did I know that I picked up a book that covered the topic of abuse. Little did I know that </span><em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">It Ends With Us</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;"> would be one of my favorite novels by master storyteller Colleen Hoover. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">This is the first book that I have ever read that dealt with the topic of abuse. I've heard about numerous abusive relationships in my lifetime. I have never pried into what actually went on in those relationships, because I never felt the need to. After reading </span><em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">It Ends With Us</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">, it pains me so much to know that relationships like Lily and Ryle's exist. It was hard for me to read nonstop. It was so difficult to read about situations that are based off of true life situations. Yet I could never tear my eyes from this book. I was mesmerized by this story. </span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">However, I was engrossed into this story for much different reasons than I usually am. Usually, I am so engaged in reading a book because I'm loving how entertaining, funny, exciting, etc it is. This book was definitely not the case. Yes, it had it's light-hearted parts, but for most of it, I could not stop reading because of how not-lighthearted this book was. I had to keep on reading because I was so perplexed by the characters and relationships in this book. The characters confused me all the time. Not because they were undeveloped by any means, but because I needed to read more and more of them because I could not understand why they made the decisions they did. I found myself becoming more confused as I continued to read. I would constantly ask myself </span><em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">"Why did this person decide to do _____?"</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">. </span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">As I continued to venture farther into the story, the questions I was asking about specific characters' decisions became harder and harder to answer. If I didn't have to sleep, I would've read this book nonstop. Unfortunately, starting a book like this one at midnight on a night before a big exam is not a good decision. What impressed me so much was that as a writer, Colleen Hoover has developed and improved so much! Her writing has become more lyrical and deep and it made me even more captivated than the story already did. </span><br />
<em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">It Ends With Us</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;"> stands out above all of Colleen Hoover's other books because it teaches you so many life lessons. Along with many relatable references, Colleen Hoover is able to make a sad yet happy at times story a personal one for her and for the reader.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">(I would praise more and more but involves spoilers!!!)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">ps. i wrote this right after finishing </span><em style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; text-align: left;">It Ends With Us</em><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">, which something I normally do not do. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">pps. Thank you so much to NetGalley/Atria Books for a digital copy of this book! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;">PPPS. I USED MY KINDLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 3 YEARS TO READ THIS BOOK. THAT'S HOW GREAT IT WAS. IF I READ ON MY KINDLE, IT MEANS SOMETHING. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>REVIEWER:</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Grace</b></span></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-2750803226194512712016-07-21T01:20:00.001-05:002016-07-21T16:14:31.486-05:00AUTHOR INTERVIEW & GIVEAWAY: If You Were Me and Lived In... series by Carole P. Roman<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b>Carole P. Roman</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">***this post is brought to you in partnership with The Children's Book Review and Carole P. Roman to feature this interview and giveaway***</span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IF YOU WERE ME AND LIVED IN … AN INTRODUCTION TO CIVILIZATIONS THROUGHOUT TIME</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What a fascinating way to introduce young children to the world as it was, so that they may begin to learn about their roots and how the world and the people in it have evolved. Yes, Carole P. Roman, thanks to you, it is time for readers to hop aboard their time travel machines. Where will they go first?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Readers will learn about things like housing, land, cooking, diet, clothing, and the jobs and hobbies people had in different times. Questions are often asked to inspire deeper thinking and encourage young learners to look for changes between the historical period and our current times. The end pages usually include more specific information about the importance of the time period itself, a list and brief biography of famous people, and a glossary of foreign words.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Discover Ancient Greece, Renaissance Italy, Elizabethan England, Colonial America, Ancient China, American West, and the Middle Ages.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Coming soon: Viking Europe and Mayan Empire</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The complete series is available on </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://amzn.to/29Dc9XJ&source=gmail&ust=1469167348549000&usg=AFQjCNHM749Xilz22-_LGUm_nZOEmHQoXw" href="http://amzn.to/29Dc9XJ" style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #420178; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amazon</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IF YOU WERE ME AND LIVED IN … AN INTRODUCTION TO CULTURES AROUND THE WORLD</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In IF YOU WERE ME AND LIVED IN … AN INTRODUCTION TO CULTURES AROUND THE WORLD, readers learn what it is like to live in other countries, see famous architecture, celebrate a favorite holiday, discover popular names for both boys and girls, and they will be fascinated with diverse and rich history and colorful traditions. On the way, they might also learn a foreign word or two!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Explore Mexico, France, South Korea, Turkey, Norway, Kenya, Australia, India, Greece, Peru, Russia, Portugal, Hungary, Scotland, China, Italy, Egypt, and Brazil.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carole P. Roman is the award winning author of the nonfiction series of children’s books, If You Were Me and Lived in … . The first title in the collection, If You Were Me and Lived in…Mexico, won the Pinnacle Award for Best in Children’s Nonfiction in 2012. </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2014/07/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-russia-by-carole-p-roman-dedicated-review.html/&source=gmail&ust=1469167348549000&usg=AFQjCNFUFdMJZs_ugjD9HJ7uWXlELgAdpg" href="http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2014/07/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-russia-by-carole-p-roman-dedicated-review.html/" style="color: #1155cc; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If You Were Me and Lived in…Russia</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/05/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-france-a-childs-introduction-to-cultures-around-the-world-dedicated-review.html/&source=gmail&ust=1469167348549000&usg=AFQjCNE5qqHtawUXJNi-1O2IvKv0tCpTNw" href="http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/05/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-france-a-childs-introduction-to-cultures-around-the-world-dedicated-review.html/" style="color: #1155cc; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If You Were Me and Lived in…France</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> were finalists in the Indie Fab Foreword Review Book of the Year. </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/10/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-norway-an-introduction-to-learning-about-other-cultures-dedicated-review.html/&source=gmail&ust=1469167348549000&usg=AFQjCNF68dA3os961Gp2oBerns-8TdOAwg" href="http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/10/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-norway-an-introduction-to-learning-about-other-cultures-dedicated-review.html/" style="color: #1155cc; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Norway</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/07/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-south-korea-a-childs-introduction-to-cultures-around-the-world-dedicated-review.html/&source=gmail&ust=1469167348549000&usg=AFQjCNG-cjGldu1iHYuSJ3H1opwCchc9oA" href="http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2013/07/if-you-were-me-and-lived-in-south-korea-a-childs-introduction-to-cultures-around-the-world-dedicated-review.html/" style="color: #1155cc; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">South Korea</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> have also been named as Book of the Year with Rebecca’s Reads and Children’s Reader’s View Book of the Year. Roman has also found success with her Captain No Beard children’s books. Her debut, </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2012/10/captain-no-beard-by-carole-p-roman-review.html/&source=gmail&ust=1469167348550000&usg=AFQjCNF6pJsrsEStQuPGhzlPRvHddJHFXg" href="http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2012/10/captain-no-beard-by-carole-p-roman-review.html/" style="color: #1155cc; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Captain No Beard: An Imaginary Tale of a Pirate’s Life</span></a><span style="color: #262626; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, was named a Kirkus Best of 2012, received a Star of Exceptional Merit, and won the Pinnacle Award in 2012. Roman lives on Long Island with her husband and very near her children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #420178; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">WEBSITE: </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://caroleproman.com/pages/home&source=gmail&ust=1469167348550000&usg=AFQjCNEjxwQsn5C4Ptwqy35vPloZmkmHug" href="http://caroleproman.com/pages/home" style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #420178; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CarolePRoman.com</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: 700; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">#IfYouWereMeAndLivedIn</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How did you do your research?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have a huge library in my home, a collection of books I began in college. In fact, my children never had to use a public library (this was the days before the web). I enjoy reading textbooks, so I knew a lot of the information already. This year alone, I must have read twenty or so books on assorted time periods I enjoy (Medieval, The Renaissance, Tudor England). I just finished a biography about Mary Tudor, sister to Henry VIII. I am reading at the same time a book about Jane Seymour (wife number three).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Working on these books reminded me somewhat of writing a paper for school. I listed the areas I wanted to research, and then checked some of my books and rechecked information I found on the web.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do you use your real life as inspiration for your work?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Captain No Beard is based on my grandchildren and some of the issues we've dealt with like bullying, new siblings, tolerance, and getting along. I write those books the same way I handle those problems. My grandsons and I are total star gazing geeks. I wrote <a href="http://amzn.to/2agLuyz"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><i>Rocket-Bye</i></span></a> as an ode to our nighttime activity of searching the cosmos. I wrote <a href="http://amzn.to/29ID5SP"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255); color: #0433ff;"><i>Can a Princess be a Firefighter?</i></span></a> to remind my granddaughters not to let anyone limit their dreams. They both adore all things princess, and I love this stage of their life. I remember my love of all those things, and will admit that despite having several successful careers, I have a very beautiful and sparkling tiara on my bedside table to remind me that I can do my job and still be what my heart tells me as well.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What is your next project? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just released <i>If You Were Me and Lived in...the Middle Ages</i>. I’m working on Poland and Israel for the older series. I have a few ideas percolating, but I want to concentrate on publicity on the new historical series.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Out of all your books, which one was your favorite to work on? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aw, that's like choosing children. I love them all, equally. I really do. I have such a feeling of pride when I look at them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Are there any specific scenes in any of your books that really stand out to you?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I always love Kelsea Weirenga's two page spreads in my culture books. They are so vibrant and colorful and really capture the essence of the series. She makes sure she is accurate, as well as respectful. I always get a laugh when I see what Bonnie' Lamaire has done with the captain and the crew. She has never seen my kids and we created the whole group through email. My entire house is filled with prints of her gorgeous artwork from the No Beard series. I am delighted with Mateya Arkove, my new illustrator from Bulgaria. Her whimsical and dreamy illustrations inspired me to write rhyming books I never thought I'd ever do. I explained how I wanted the children to look and she understood my intent. I asked her to have the parent ambiguous by just showing legs, and she totally created a charming story that I think helps parents enjoy the book as much as the kids listening to it. I liked her work so much, I asked her to do three or four books in the new series. Paula Tabor has added a very detailed and accurate addition to the new series, that brings humor and sweetness to the history books.</span></span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; color: black; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Giveaways terms and conditions:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No purchase necessary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You must be at least 13 years of age or older to enter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fandom Monthly Magazine is not responsible if the promotion sponsor does not fulfill their giveaway prize.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">Winner(s) will be contacted shortly after the giveaway ends. The winner(s) will then have 2 days most to </span><span style="line-height: 21px;">respond</span><span style="line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"> and claim their </span><span style="line-height: 21px;">prize</span><span style="line-height: 21.559999465942383px;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">One (1) winner receives the grand prize:</span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A set of all 6 books in the IF YOU WERE ME AND LIVED IN … AN INTRODUCTION TO CIVILIZATIONS THROUGHOUT TIME series</span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A set of all 18 books in the IF YOU WERE ME AND LIVED IN … AN INTRODUCTION TO CULTURES AROUND THE WORLD series</span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A $50 Amazon gift card</span><br /><span style="color: #222222; white-space: pre-wrap;">Value: $359.75</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">Four (4) winners receive:</span><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A choice of one book from either series.</span><br /><span style="color: #222222; white-space: pre-wrap;">Value: $10.99 +</span></span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Giveaway begins July 20, 2016, at 12:01 A.M. PST and ends August 20, 2016, at 11:59 P.M. PST.</span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Giveaway open to US and Canadian addresses only.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #bd081c; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 153px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 150px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span><span style="background-color: #bd081c; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 153px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 150px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span>Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-60864796207112321502016-06-30T00:30:00.001-05:002016-06-30T00:30:01.655-05:00Get Your Summer Reading On!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Kids??? Kids??? Get your summer reading on with these cool new reads!</u></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.randomhouse.com.au/content/titles/9781101931875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.randomhouse.com.au/content/titles/9781101931875.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;"> A</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> sly and hilarious mystery by debut author <b>Denis Markell</b>, <b>CLICK HERE TO START (A NOVEL) </b>(Delacorte Press | On sale July 19, 2016 | Ages 10 and up | $16.99) is the perfect read for kids who want only one thing: video games. With shocking twists and turns and fiercely independent characters, this stand-alone novel is filled with puzzles inspired by video games and keeps readers guessing until the very end. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-kerning: none;">All twelve-year-old Ted is good at is video games—especially escape-the-room puzzles. When he inherits his great-uncle’s apartment and all the quirky treasures inside, he can’t help looking at it like a real-life puzzle. Suddely, he discovers that it actually is one, and that his uncle has hidden treasure from his days in the Nisai brigade in World War II. The apartment is just the start, and this tricky game takes Ted all across his neighborhood. But someone else is on the hunt for the treasure, too, and Ted’s search becomes more than just a game. Can he and his friends solve his great-uncle’s puzzles to make sure the treasure gets into the right hands? </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>CLICK HERE TO START (A NOVEL) is bursting with energy and a fresh, spellbinding new voice </b></span><b>sure to captivate reluctant readers and gaming addicts.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>DENIS MARKELL</b> has written an award-winning Off-Broadway musical revue; a few musical comedies for the stage; various and sundry sitcoms; a play with Joan Rivers; an episode of <i>Thundercats;</i> and two picture books illustrated by his wife, Melissa Iwai: <i>The Great Stroller Adventure and Hush</i>, <i>Little Monster</i>. <b>CLICK HERE TO START (A NOVEL) </b>is his debut novel. Markell lives in Brooklyn with his wife and son. You can find him on Twitter at @DenisMarkell.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jB2ZOYgwrXM/VmTd0r7URXI/AAAAAAAAJAc/qgo9bcDY1YE/s1600/presidential%2Bfantasy%2Bdream%2Bteam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jB2ZOYgwrXM/VmTd0r7URXI/AAAAAAAAJAc/qgo9bcDY1YE/s1600/presidential%2Bfantasy%2Bdream%2Bteam.jpg" height="320" width="246" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> From <i>New York Times</i> bestselling author <b>Daniel O’Brien </b>and illustrator<b> Winston Rowntree </b>comes <b>YOUR PRESIDENTIAL FANTASY DREAM TEAM</b> (Crown Books for Young Readers | On sale June 28, 2016 | Ages 10 and up | $13.99), a book where readers create their own presidential dream team to save the country from a (made-up) national crisis, based on humorous fact-based profiles of former leaders. Just in time for the 2016 presidential election, this nonfiction middle-grade book features illustrations throughout and is a fresh, fun take on learning about U.S. presidents. </span></span>Armed with the essential facts, readers draft their own dream team of presidents to face any dangers, real or imagined. By studying the most successful squads in history, O’Brien has identified the perfect ingredients for a victorious team. Which presidents should you choose for your team the Brain, the Brawn, the Moral Compass, the Loose Cannon, and the Roosevelt? Choose wisely—the fate of the country is in your hands! <b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Combining presidential history with fantasy football tactics, this laugh-out-loud book is a fresh, </span></b></span><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">fun take on nonfiction—history made fun for reluctant readers!</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>DANIEL O’BRIEN</b> is the head writer for Cracked.com. His work has been featured on Comedy Central, Splitsider, <i>Forbes, USA Today,</i> and the <i>Huffington Post.</i> Daniel is the co-editor of the <i>New York Times</i> bestselling <i>You Might Be a Zombie and Other Bad News</i>. He is also the pop culture expert on History Channel’s <i>Your BLEEPED Up Brain.</i> Follow him on Twitter at @DOB_INC. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>WINSTON ROWNTREE</b> is a columnist at Cracked.com and the author of the webcomic <i>Subnormality</i>. He recently won the Cartoonist Studio Prize for Best Web Comic of the Year for <i>Watching</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 520px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 0.85; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 572px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 520px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 1; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 572px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Save</span></span>Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-87040610418651434232016-06-26T16:27:00.003-05:002016-06-26T16:27:42.378-05:00GIVEAWAY: Girl in the Shadows by Gwenda Bond<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.gwendabond.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Bond-GirlintheShadows-21439-CV-FT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.gwendabond.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Bond-GirlintheShadows-21439-CV-FT.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eighteen-year-old Moira Mitchell grew up in the shadows of Vegas’s stage lights while her father’s career as a magician soared. More than anything, Moira wants to be a magician too, but her father is dead set against her pursuing magic.When an invitation to join the Cirque American mistakenly falls into Moira’s possession, she takes action. Instead of giving the highly coveted invitation to its intended recipient, Raleigh, her father’s handsome and worldly former apprentice, Moira takes off to join the Cirque. If she can perform alongside its world-famous acts, she knows she’ll be able to convince her dad that magic is her future.But when Moira arrives, things take on an intensity she can’t control as her stage magic suddenly feels like…real magic. To further distract her, Raleigh shows up none too pleased at Moira’s presence, all while the Cirque’s cocky and intriguing knife thrower, Dez, seems to have it out for her. As tensions mount and Moira’s abilities come into question, she must decide what’s real and what’s an illusion. If she doesn’t sort it out in time, she may forever remain a girl in the shadows. Girl in the Shadows is a companion novel to Girl on a Wire, and will be out on July 5, 2016.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.gwendabond.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/GwendaHS1bySarahJaneSanders-1024x683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.gwendabond.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/GwendaHS1bySarahJaneSanders-1024x683.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">Gwenda Bond writes for children and young adults. Her novels include </span><a href="http://www.gwendabond.com/series/lois-lane" style="-webkit-transition: 0.2s; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ab1010; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.2s;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Lois Lane: Fallout</em> and <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">Double Down</em></a><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">, which bring the iconic comic book character front and center in her own YA novel series, and </span><a href="http://www.gwendabond.com/bondgirl/books-girl-on-a-wire.html" style="-webkit-transition: 0.2s; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ab1010; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.2s;">Girl on a Wire</a><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">, about a daredevil heroine who discovers magic and mystery lurking at the Cirque American. Next up in 2016 are </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">Girl in the Shadows and</em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;"> the comic book miniseries/graphic novel </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">Girl Over Paris </em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">(with Kate Leth and Ming Doyle), companions to </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">Girl on a Wire</em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">. She has also written for </span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">Publishers Weekly, </em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">the</span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;"> Los Angeles Times</em><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">,</em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;"> the</span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;"> Washington Post</em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;">, and many other publications</span><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; text-align: start;">.</em><span style="color: black; text-align: start;"> She has an MFA in Writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts, and lives in a hundred-year-old house in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband, author Christopher Rowe, and their menagerie. Visit her online at </span><a data-original-title="" href="http://www.gwendabond.com/" style="-webkit-transition: 0.2s; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ab1010; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.2s;" target="_self" title="">www.gwendabond.com</a><span style="color: black; text-align: start;"> or </span><a data-original-title="" href="http://www.twitter.com/gwenda" style="-webkit-transition: 0.2s; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ab1010; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.2s;" target="_self" title="">@gwenda</a> <span style="color: black; text-align: start;">on twitter.</span></span><br />
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<b style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Lurlene McDaniel</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://www.lurlenemcdaniel.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/xl_losing_gabriel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.lurlenemcdaniel.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/xl_losing_gabriel.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This emotionally-charged novel about three high school seniors who in the midst of planning their futures after high school are instead faced with present circumstances that force them to grasp what it means to make choices, take responsibility, and truly become an adult. Lani Kennedy has dreamed of becoming a nurse since her cousin Arie died of leukemia. Nothing will stop her from getting into the local nursing program. Dawson Burke hasn’t dealt with his mom’s death, and he’s angry at his dad for moving them to Windemere right before senior year. He grudgingly accepts that he must wait till graduation before he leaves. Sloan Quentin can belt out a song and knows that her band is her ticket to fame and fortune. When she discovers that her boyfriend—the band’s lead guitarist—is cheating on her, she finds comfort—and revenge—in someone else’s arms. When the lives of Lani, Dawson, and Sloan become entangled in unexpected ways, reality hits harder than anyone could have imagined.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who I Am: Lurlene Nora (Gallagher) McDaniel</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My Birthday: April 5, 1944… It only comes once a year, so I turn it into a festival and celebrate it for the entire month!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was born in Philadelphia PA, grew up (mostly) in Hialeah FL, graduated from the University of South Florida, Tampa FL (go Bulls!) and currently live in Chattanooga TN—I’m an American citizen by birth, and Southern by the grace of God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a brother, three years younger, married, and mathematically gifted. I am totally without math skills.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The books I write, the topics and subject matter, grew out of my firstborn son’s diagnosis of diabetes at age 3. Infinite reward that comes to me from my work…. when a grown reader lets me know that reading my books inspired her to seek a profession that helps others. I have wonderful letters saying, “Today I graduated from nursing/medical school.” Now that’s a gift of joy!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Did you like to read and write as a child?<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #5b9bd5;">You bet! I knew there was magic coming from those alphabet letters because when someone read to me, stories appeared! I couldn’t wait to read for myself. I started writing in first grade, had a letter to the editor published in Miami Herald newspaper at age 11. I was hooked! And wanted to write even more.</span> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;"><u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Is a moment in your writing career that stands out to you as "life changing"?<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;">When SIX MONTHS TO LIVE became a bestseller. I knew then I could make a career/living from novel writing.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What's your favorite part about the writing process? Inspiration, drafting, editing, publishing, etc.<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;">Editing what I’ve already written, polishing paragraphs and words so they shine…or at least glow in the dark!<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Do you like your friends/family reading your work?<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;">You bet! My best reader and cheerleader is my son Erik, who’s always a gentle critic. He reads every book I write. What a guy!<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who would you thank most for where you are today?<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;">To God goes the glory. Years ago when I was divorced, scared, a kid in college and another in high school, and wondering if I could turn writing into a full time job. He led me along a path that granted me an amazing editor and a wonderful agent---been with both now for 27 years. I thank Him every day.<u></u><u></u></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fun question: When you eat a taco, do you tilt your head, or do you tilt the taco?? :D<u></u><u></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="color: #5b9bd5;">Face first into those yummy crunchy tacos, lifted only slightly toward my teeth! And I stuff them full of every add-on too!</span></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-45682521725616890862016-06-08T00:00:00.000-05:002016-06-08T00:00:13.010-05:00Happy Release to 'Julia Vanishes' by Catherine Egan<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><em style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">Julia Vanishes </em><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">Julia has the unusual ability to be . . . unseen. Not invisible, exactly. Just beyond most people's senses. </span><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">It's a dangerous trait in a city that has banned all forms of magic and drowns witches in public Cleansings. But it's a useful trait for a thief and a spy. And Julia has learned--crime pays.</span></span></div>
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Her latest job is paying very well indeed. Julia is posing as a housemaid in the grand house of Mrs. Och, where an odd assortment of characters live and work: A disgraced professor who sends her to fetch parcels containing bullets, spiders, and poison. An aristocratic houseguest who is locked in the basement each night. And a mysterious young woman who is clearly in hiding--though from what or whom?</div>
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Worse, Julia suspects that there's a connection between these people and the killer leaving a trail of bodies across the frozen city. The more she learns, the more she wants to be done with this unnatural job. To go back to the safety of her friends and fellow thieves. But Julia is entangled in a struggle between forces more powerful than she'd ever imagined. Escape will come at a terrible price.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">CATHERINE EGAN grew up in Vancouver, Canada. Since then, she has lived on a volcanic island in Japan (which erupted while she was there and sent her hurtling straight into the arms of her now-husband), in Tokyo, Kyoto, and Beijing, on an oil rig in the middle of Bohai Bay, then in New Jersey, and now in New Haven, Connecticut. She is currently occupied with writing books and fighting dragon armies with her warrior children. You can read more about her at catherineegan.com. Follow her on Twitter at @ByCatherineEgan.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Julia Vanishes</i> (6/7/2016) is out now! Find a copy in your local bookstore. </span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 26px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 18px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 26px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 18px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></span>Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-26164802681456238222016-06-07T00:14:00.000-05:002016-06-07T00:14:10.482-05:00Last Night, A Superhero Saved My Life. The Anthology. + GIVEAWAY<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Happy release day to Last Night, A Superhero Saved My Life!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12px;">“</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There’s ample insight to be found here, not the least of which is that superheroes have a deep, resounding place in our cultural and individual psyches.” <b>—<i>Booklist</i></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Neil Gaiman, Jodi Picoult, Brad Meltzer, and an All-Star Roster on the Caped Crusaders That Changed Their Lives</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Edited by Liesa Mignogna</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our cultural fascination with superheroes is no secret. Every year, adaptations of classic comic book stories hit both big and small screens. These movies and TV shows are often hotly debated with many becoming box office hits. In <b>LAST NIGHT A SUPERHERO SAVED MY LIFE: Neil Gaiman, Jodi Picoult, Brad Meltzer, and an All-Star Roster on the Caped Crusaders That Changed Their Lives</b> (Thomas Dunne Books; On-sale: June 7, 2016; ISBN: 9781250043924; $25.99), Liesa Mignogna, VP, Editorial Director at Simon Pulse, edits an insightful and touching collection of essays from some of today’s most notable authors. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The idea for <b>LAST NIGHT A SUPERHERO SAVED MY LIFE</b> comes from Mignogna’s own longstanding infatuation with Batman. She has a room dedicated to her collection of comic books and memorabilia, guests who spend the night will find a Batman comforter in their room, they will drink coffee out of a Batman mug in the morning, and they might notice a few photos lying around from Liesa’s Batman-themed wedding. While one may think this is mere fanaticism, a holdover from a childhood night out at the movies, readers will read the harrowing yet ultimately inspiring tale behind Mignogna’s attachment to The Dark Knight. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As <b>LAST NIGHT A SUPERHERO SAVED MY LIFE</b> underscores, our personal connections with superheroes runs deep, often to the very core of our being. These caped crusaders, masked men, and warrior princesses help us through hard times. They allow us to escape the discomfort of everyday life; they become our role models; and, ultimately, they give us hope that all will be okay. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>LAST NIGHT A SUPERHERO SAVED MY LIFE</b> gives readers the chance to connect to their beloved authors, while those same authors connect to their beloved superheroes, and within that feedback loop of respect and admiration lies a stellar and phenomenally accessible anthology full of thrills, chills, and spills.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Contributors include </span><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">New York Times</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> bestsellers Neil Gaiman, Jodi Picoult, Brad Meltzer, Christopher Golden, Leigh Bardugo, Carrie Vaughn, and Jamie Ford, as well as award-winners and mainstays like Joe R. Lansdale, Austin Grossman, Ron Currie, Jr., Delilah S. Dawson, Scott Westerfeld, and others. </span><b style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">LAST NIGHT A SUPERHERO SAVED MY LIFE</b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> is sure to follow in the footsteps of Grant Morrison's </span><i style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;">Supergods</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> as its authors share their most hilarious and most heart wrenching experiences with their chosen defenders to explain why superheroes matter, what they tell us about who we are, and what they mean for our future. </span></span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-32595731193314389802016-05-09T19:16:00.004-05:002016-05-09T19:16:37.989-05:00Summer of Supernovas: Happy book birthday!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Happy (early) Book Birthday to Darcy Woods! Her novel Summer of Supernovas is out today, be sure to check it out!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">Fans of Jennifer E. Smith and Jenny Han will fall in love with this heartfelt and humor-laced debut following one girl’s race to find the guy of her cosmic dreams. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">When zodiac-obsessed teen Wilamena Carlisle discovers a planetary alignment that won’t repeat for a decade, she’s forced to tackle her greatest astrological fear: The Fifth House—relationships and love. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">But when Wil falls for a sensitive guitar player hailing from the wrong side of the astrology chart, she must decide whether a cosmically doomed love is worth rejecting her dead mother’s legacy and the very system she’s faithfully followed through a lifetime of unfailing belief.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Young adult author Darcy Woods had three big loves in grade school: Reading, writing, and pizza day. Some things never change. She lives in Michigan with her madly supportive husband, two tuxedo cats (who overdress for everything) and a closet full of neatly organized shoes. Once upon a time, she served in a US Army aviation unit and threw live grenades. Now she throws words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Darcy’s Golden Heart®-winning debut YA romance, SUMMER OF SUPERNOVAS, comes out from Random House/Crown May 10, 2016.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><b><u>Five Random Factoids About Darcy</u></b></span><br />
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<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She has an irrational fear of seaweed (but fearless when it comes to eating it).</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Vintage dresses, fun shoes, and brilliant red lipstick make her heart go pitter patter.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She once qualified Expert level with an M-16 and has some wicked bayonet skills.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Music is her muse. Every story she writes has a ridiculously long and diverse playlist.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If the moon were really made of cheese, she would lasso it and spread it on crackers.</span></li>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-87432353722558598072016-05-05T21:57:00.000-05:002016-05-05T21:57:37.275-05:00GIVEAWAY: Twist My Charm (Love Potion #11) by Toni Gallagher<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vrn6t840QvY/VywGLPIauRI/AAAAAAAACyc/V2nmg_WNocchRYyFK69uHNNX3T1ET-hTACLcB/s1600/Love%2BPotion%2B11%2BHigh%2BRes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vrn6t840QvY/VywGLPIauRI/AAAAAAAACyc/V2nmg_WNocchRYyFK69uHNNX3T1ET-hTACLcB/s320/Love%2BPotion%2B11%2BHigh%2BRes.jpg" width="211" /></a> Join Cleo and her friends for another magical adventure...TWIST MY CHARM: Love Potion #11 by Toni GallagherEveryone knows love potions don't really work. But it would be crazy not to try one...right? The plan is simple: make Cleo's ex-best friend Samantha fall in love with her (secret) crush Larry. If it works, Sam will be so happy, she'll want to be friends again. But when Sam gets suspicious, only Larry drinks the love potion. And now Larry is in love with...Cleo? And then it gets worse. Cleo's dad drinks the other glass of punch and suddenly he's in love with Samantha's mom. Which would have been really cool when Cleo and Sam were still friends, but now that they're frenemies? Disaster! Can Cleo find the potion to make everything go back to normal before something even worse happens?</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><a href="http://tonigallagherink.com/index.html" style="color: #666666; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">TONI GALLAGHER</a></b> earned a journalism degree from Northwestern University and has had a successful career in reality TV. She began as a story editor on the early seasons of MTV's "The Real World" (LA, San Francisco and London) and was a producer on the beloved and respected Disney Channel show "Bug Juice," about real kids at summer camp. Currently she serves as Co-Executive Producer of "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" on Bravo. Toni lives in Los Angeles and loves</span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-28404818664250600812016-04-24T21:13:00.001-05:002016-04-24T22:06:57.044-05:00SIGNED GIVEAWAY: Alive by Scott Sigler and Sleeping Giants by Sylvian Neuvel<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A teenage girl awakens to find herself trapped in a coffin. She has no idea who she is, where she is, or how she got there. Fighting her way free brings little relief—she discovers only a room lined with caskets and a handful of equally mystified survivors. Beyond their room lies a corridor filled with bones and dust, but no people . . . and no answers. She knows only one thing about herself—her name, M. Savage, which was engraved on the foot of her coffin—yet she finds herself in charge. She is not the biggest among them, or the boldest, but for some reason the others trust her. Now, if they’re to have any chance, she must get them to trust each other. Whatever the truth is, she is determined to find it and confront it. If she has to lead, she will make sure they survive. Maybe there’s a way out, a rational explanation, and a fighting chance against the dangers to come. Or, maybe a reality they cannot comprehend lies just beyond the next turn. <b>For fans of <i>The Hunger Games, Divergent, </i>and<i> Red Rising</i> comes a gripping sci-fi adventure in which a group of teenagers wake up in a mysterious corridor with no knowledge of who they are or how they got trapped. Their only hope lies with a young woman who must lead them not only to answers but to survival. </b><b>This strong female character will discover the truth. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A page-turning debut in the tradition of Michael Crichton, World War Z, and The Martian,Sleeping Giants is a thriller fueled by an earthshaking mystery—and a fight to control a gargantuan power. A girl named Rose is riding her new bike near her home in Deadwood, South Dakota, when she falls through the earth. She wakes up at the bottom of a square hole, its walls glowing with intricate carvings. But the firemen who come to save her peer down upon something even stranger: a little girl in the palm of a giant metal hand. Seventeen years later, the mystery of the bizarre artifact remains unsolved—its origins, architects, and purpose unknown. Its carbon dating defies belief; military reports are redacted; theories are floated, then rejected. But some can never stop searching for answers. Rose Franklin is now a highly trained physicist leading a top secret team to crack the hand’s code. And along with her colleagues, she is being interviewed by a nameless interrogator whose power and purview are as enigmatic as the provenance of the relic. What’s clear is that Rose and her compatriots are on the edge of unraveling history’s most perplexing discovery—and figuring out what it portends for humanity. But once the pieces of the puzzle are in place, will the result prove to be an instrument of lasting peace or a weapon of mass destruction?</span></center>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;"><i>Reaping Angel</i> is the sequel to <i>Guarding Angel</i>, which received an honorable mention in the 23rd Annual Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards: "... A fascinating story of a particularly loving guardian angel. Overall, the writing is emotionally grounded, character-focused, and technically superior..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Enael starts picking up the pieces of her decisions from the first book and comes face-to-face with her nemesis from centuries ago. If you enjoy fantasy or paranormal, this series is not to be missed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After the battle at the Bastille, the Council of Seraphim offers reluctant demons Enael and Kaspen a chance to return to Heaven—but only after they’ve completed sufficient penance. Ready to move past the ugly chapter in their lives, they settle into their assignments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Until Enael’s former lover, Voctic, a powerful demon, interferes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Voctic seduces and demeans, taunts and entices Enael, stirring centuries-old longing in her while infuriating Kaspen. Caught up in the demands of their duties, Kaspen and Enael drift apart until she finds herself isolated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Fed up with Voctic’s harassment, Enael prepares to fight back. When he targets the new human she’s responsible for protecting, she creates her own plan. His self-proclaimed “gala of the century” will be the perfect cover for her revenge. But will a hasty decision cost her Kaspen—or even her spot in Heaven?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: x-large;"><b>99 cent Sale!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">To celebrate release day, both <i>Guarding Angel</i> and <i>Reaping Angel</i> eBooks are on sale for 99 cents at all major retailers:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"><i>Guarding Angel</i>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://amzn.com/0993744516">Paperback</a></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black;"> (Regular price) | <a href="http://amzn.com/B00K6ZM372"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Kindle</span></a> | <a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/guarding-angel"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Kobo</span></a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/S_L_Saboviec_Guarding_Angel?id=b9SiAwAAQBAJ&hl=en"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Google Play</span></a> | <a href="http://www.bn.com/w/1119467162?ean=2940149496204"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Nook</span></a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22494483-guarding-angel"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(4, 51, 255);">Goodreads</span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"><i>Reaping Angel</i>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Paperback (Regular price) | <a href="http://amzn.com/B01CZ1JOP8"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Kindle</span></a> | <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/reaping-angel"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Kobo</span></a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/S_L_Saboviec_Reaping_Angel?id=CGnwCwAAQBAJ"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Google Play</span></a> | <a href="http://www.bn.com/w/1123649204?ean=2940157778637"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Nook</span></a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24749917-reaping-angel"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Goodreads</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;"><b>S. L. Saboviec</b> grew up in a small town in Iowa but became an expat for her Canadian husband, whom she met in the Massive Multi-player Online Role-Playing Game Star Wars: Galaxies (before the NGE, of course). She holds a B.S. in Physics, which qualifies her to B.S. about physics and occasionally do some math for the sci-fi stories she concocts. Her dark, thought-provoking science fiction & fantasy contains flawed, relatable characters and themes that challenge the status quo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Her short fiction ("<a href="http://www.urbanfantasist.com/latest-sci-fi--fantasy-poetry--flash-fiction/i-am-not-little-red-riding-hood"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">I Am NOT Little Red Riding Hood</span></a>") has appeared on Grievous Angel. You can call her Samantha.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://www.saboviec.com/">website</a></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black;"> | <a href="https://twitter.com/Saboviec"><span style="line-height: normal;">twitter</span></a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/saboviec"><span style="line-height: normal;">facebook</span></a> | <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/Saboviec"><span style="line-height: normal;">pinterest</span></a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7740723.S_L_Saboviec"><span style="line-height: normal;">goodreads</span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">You have three ways to enter to win one of three signed sets of paperbacks. By Sunday, April 17, at 11:59 p.m. Eastern, retweet on Twitter, share on FaceBook, and enter the Rafflecopter giveaway.</span></div>
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<li style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 5px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Retweet on Twitter and follow @Saboviec to enter for one set: <a href="https://twitter.com/Saboviec/status/716699531031756800"><span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;">Click to RT me!</span></a></span></span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 5px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: normal;"></span><span style="font-kerning: none;">Share on FaceBook and Like S. L. Saboviec's author page to enter for another set: <span style="color: #0433ff; line-height: normal;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Saboviec/photos/p.1046024102146235/1046024102146235/">Click to Share me!</a></span></span></span></li>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-57970071804155045072016-04-03T14:31:00.002-05:002016-04-03T14:31:23.291-05:00GIVEAWAY AND EXCERPT: Beyond the Stars by Stacy Wise<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Falling for him wasn’t in the plans…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Most girls would kill for the opportunity to work for Jack McAlister, Hollywood’s hottest actor, but twenty-one-year-old Jessica Beckett is ready to kick him out of her red Ford Fiesta and never look back. She should be spending her junior year in France, eating pastries and sharpening her foreign language skills. Instead she’s reluctantly working as Jack’s personal assistant, thanks to her powerhouse talent agent aunt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jack is private, prickly, and downright condescending. Jessica pushes his buttons—she’s not the type of girl to swoon over celebrity heartthrobs, precisely why her aunt thought she’d be perfect for the job—and Jack pushes right back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But as she begins to peel away his layers, Jessica is shocked to find she craves her boss’s easy smile and sexy blue eyes. The problem is, so does the entire female population. And what started out as the job from hell soon has Jess wondering if a guy like Jack could ever find love with a regular girl like her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Stacy Wise is the author of BEYOND THE STARS (Entangled Embrace, 2016). She has a B.A. in Communication Studies from UCLA and a Masters in Teaching from Chapman University. She lives in California with her husband, four children, two dogs, and ever-changing number of fish. BEYOND THE STARS is her debut novel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><u>To get more personal, here's more about Stacy:</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I *wrote my first book at age 6. It was completely plagiarized, but I spent hours copying it word for word in my best printing, so that should count for something. Years later, I graduated from UCLA with a B.A. in Communication Studies and began working in television casting. After ten years in the industry, I quit my job to go back to school, and received my teaching credential and Masters in Teaching from Chapman University. I taught kindergarten and third grade. California is where I make my home with my husband and four kids. When I’m not writing, you can find me beating up the bag at my kickboxing gym, cheering my kids on at their numerous sporting events, or walking my dogs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="http://www.stacywise.com/bio/" target="_blank">Visit Stacy's website for more fun facts about her! </a></b></span></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Chapter One</strong></div>
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><tbody>
<tr><td>I try to ignore the pig in the passenger seat. He snorts, and I stare straight ahead, willing the red light to change to green. Like <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">now. </em>I sneak a glance at him, assessing whether he’s going to make a move that’ll freak me out. The light changes, and I lurch my car into the intersection. The sudden movement slams the pig into the seat back and bounces him onto the floorboard, where he crashes into the empty plastic water bottles I keep forgetting to recycle. Shit<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">.</em> Maybe I should’ve strapped the seat belt around him.</td></tr>
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<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Sorry, Leo<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">.</em> Just stay there. You’re fine.”</div>
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<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Snort. Snort.</em> There might’ve been a whimper, too. Great. I hope I didn’t hurt the little guy. Even though I’m slightly terrified of him, with those beady eyes and all, I don’t want to see him injured. If anything happens to the pig, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fired, and it’s only my first day on the job. Getting fired would be the best possible outcome. The worst? I’ll end up on <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">TMZ</em>. They’ll flash a scandalously bad picture of me with the caption Animal Abuser Caught! in bold below my face. I’ll probably even go to jail. Because this pig belongs to Jack McAlister. As in,<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> the</em> Jack McAlister—the hottest actor on the planet.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Jack’s appearing on <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Francine Allen Show</em> today, and for reasons unknown to me, he wants his pet piglet there with him. I reach the Trident Pictures lot and pull up to the guard kiosk. A man resembling an old desert tortoise stretches his neck out of the window. “Name?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Jessica Beckett.” I hope this guy is fast. Getting here took longer than I planned. A fire hydrant on Sunset had exploded, sending water spouting straight up like a geyser, flooding one of the lanes of traffic. As much of a mess as it was, it was kind of cool to see. Everyone else must have thought so, too. Traffic slowed to a crawl as we all watched the water show while merging into the clear lane.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
The old man examines a computer screen in the kiosk. “I don’t see a drive-on for you. Do you have one?” he asks in his slow, measured voice. He certainly doesn’t seem like a security guard. And I have no freaking idea what a drive-on is. I’ve been to studios before, but my aunt always drives, and guards wave her through with a smile.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I don’t know. I’m Jack McAlister’s assistant, and I’m here to deliver Leo to the <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Francine Allen</em> set.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He shuffles out of the kiosk and peers into my red Ford Fiesta with suspicion. “Leo? Does he have a drive-on?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I doubt it. Leo’s a pig.” I point to the wiggling creature on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat. He sticks up his baby pink snout and snorts. A tiny black moustache covers the tip, as if someone painted it on to be funny.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He heaves a sigh. “Can I see your ID, please?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
This clearly isn’t the first time someone hasn’t had the proper authorization. I reach behind my seat to retrieve my purse and drop it onto my lap, digging through the contents for my wallet. I fish it out and hand him my license. He inspects it carefully as he steps back into the kiosk. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to distract myself from my growing impatience while he stares at my ID as if I’m some sort of criminal. I stop tapping when he picks up a phone. He better be talking to someone at the show and not making a personal call.</div>
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I look in my rearview mirror and cringe. The line behind me snakes out to the street. And now someone is honking. It’s entirely possible that the honker has collapsed face-first in frustration onto his horn, because he’s not letting up.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Jessica?” The guard leans his neck out of the kiosk window.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Yes?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Here’s your ID. You’re clear to go through. Next time make sure you have a drive-on. We wouldn’t want to make a habit of this now, would we?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“No. Can you tell me where to park, please?” My words are polite, but I doubt they make up for the impatience in my tone. I can’t help it. Some people say patience is a virtue. I say arriving on time is a virtue.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Go to Parking Structure B. Straight ahead, then turn left.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
After looping through the garage to find an available spot, I scramble to open the passenger door. “Okay, Leo. Time to act like a movie star.” I slide my hands around his plump tummy, and he squeals as if my hands are made of fire, which, in turn, freaks me out. “Leo. Settle down, dude. I’m just taking you out of the car. This is supposed to be fun for you. Like a field trip. So come on, be a good sport.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I give him a few gentle pats. “You’re good, Leo.” My voice is soothing, even though I want to tackle the pig and make a run for it. “We’re off to see your famous owner, okay? Any other pig would jump at the opportunity.” I continue to pet his rough fur, and then quickly tighten my grasp, as though trying to capture a slippery fish. He squeals again and scurries onto the driver’s seat. Frustration building, I look around to see if there’s anyone who can help me.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
A man with a phone to his ear is pacing next to a gleaming black Jaguar. He looks pretty focused on his conversation, but this is kind of urgent. I glance back at Leo and find him huddled in the floor space below the driver’s seat.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Oh, no you don’t, you little stinker. That’s it.” I yank him onto the driver’s seat, determined to get him out of the car. But as soon as I have him locked in my arms, he lets out a wail as powerful as a shrieking two-year-old. It startles me so much I drop him. Shoot. Couldn’t Jack have given me a pet carrier or something? Leo’s making so much noise that someone will surely come to help. In fact, the Jaguar owner is striding toward me.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I’m so glad you walked over…” I start to say, but he doesn’t hear me.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He gets a little closer and pulls the phone away from his ear. “Can you get that kid to shut up? I’m on a call here.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Typical Hollywood asshole. “It’s not a kid. It’s a pig,” I shout. “And I am trying to quiet him, but I’m not versed in pig care.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
The man glares at me with eyes beadier than Leo’s.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“A little help and a lot less attitude would be nice,” I mutter under my breath.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Figure it out. I need to close this fucking deal, and my phone doesn’t work on the elevator. Get that thing to shut up!” He kicks a tire on the car next to me for effect and succeeds in setting off the alarm. Leo continues his earsplitting wails. Jaguar Man curses his way back to his car. I want to cover my head and cry.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I’m ready to rush back to the security guard for help when I see my saving grace in the form of a reusable (well, probably not reusable after today) Trader Joe’s shopping bag. It has a zipper on top. Perfect. I can put Leo in the bag, zip him up, and off we’ll go. Lots of women carry their fancy little dogs in their purses, so I’m sure it’s fine to carry a pig in a bag.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
In one swift move, I clamp it over Leo and jostle him to the bottom of the bag before zipping it up. He lets out a pitiful squeal. My hands are shaking so much that I’m scared I’ll drop him again.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I heft the bag off the seat and slam my car door. Leo sounds like a panic button that won’t stop. God, I hope he doesn’t have a piggy heart attack. I race to the elevator, jamming my finger on the down button. Thankfully, the doors open immediately, and I step in. A girl who could be a Kardashian stands there. I steal a closer look. She actually resembles one of the girls my ex-boyfriend was dating while he was allegedly committed to me—the girl with “a face like Kim K. and an ass to match,” to be exact. The sight of her makes my stomach hurt. My palms feel sweaty. I wish this stupid elevator would go faster.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
The girl scans me up and down, moving nothing but her eyes. Now I know how the “befores” feel in those makeover shows when the audience inspects them with thinly veiled disdain.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Leo squeals, and the girl turns to me. “What <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">is </em>that?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“A pig.” I barely glance at her.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“You’re joking, right?” She grips her yellow patent leather Tori Burch clutch a little tighter.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“No.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Really? Are you an animal trainer?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Nope.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“That’s totally bizarre.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Yes, it is,” I say. The doors open, and I leave her standing by the elevator, smoothing her hair. I jog down the walkway that leads out of the garage, trying to ignore the fact that my armpits are tingling with sweat. Welcome to Hollywood, baby. <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Ugh.</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
There’s a row of sound stages directly in front of me, and they’re all numbered. <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Thank you, God.</em> I race ahead and pass stages three, four, and five. But I don’t see six or seven. Shoot. Leo has finally stopped squealing, but now I fear that he’s feeling sick. The bag bangs against my hip as I run. A guy driving a golf cart whisks by, and I flag him down. He rolls next to me and stops. I’m sure I look hysterical.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Can you tell me where to find stage seven? I have four minutes to get there.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He grins. “Hop in. I’ll get you there in one. I’m Max, by the way.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Nice to meet you, Max.” As soon as I’m seated, he hits the gas, and we jerk forward. I brace myself, thinking he’s going to floor it. When he doesn’t, I relax a little. I grab a water bottle from my purse and take a swig.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“What’ve you got in the bag?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Jack McAlister’s pet pig.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He turns to me. “For real? You have a pig in there?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Watch the road. And yeah, I have a pig in here.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Cool. What’d you say your name is?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Jessica.” I take another sip of water just as we hit a bump in the road. My chin taps the bottle, and water sloshes down the front of my shirt. I swipe at it with one hand, while trying to balance the bag with the other.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Max eyes me. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. That freaking pothole. I’m always in it before I see it. You okay?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I’m fine. It’ll dry.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Here we are. Craft services will have napkins if you want some. Good luck.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Thanks. I owe you one.” I rush to the huge stage door and knock. When no one answers, I pull it open just enough to peek in. People wearing headsets and carrying clipboards scurry like rats. There’s a group of men in well-tailored suits standing in the corner talking. I assume they must be Important People. They seem intimidating now, unlike when I have Aunt Marnie by my side.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I scan the place, looking for Jack. A girl who appears less harried than everyone else passes, and I stop her, asking where I can find Jack McAlister.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Who are you?” she demands, all business.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I’m his assistant, and I need to get this to him right away.” I motion to the bag hanging from my shoulder and try not to notice it feels like dead weight.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Oh, yeah. They just called me to check your drive-on. Come on.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I follow her down a hallway, barely taking in all the activity. We reach a door bearing a temporary plaque with Jack’s name. She knocks three times. I take a breath and comb my fingers through my tangled hair. Jack opens the door, and I inhale sharply. Damn, he’s hot.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Hi there.” I smile, attempting to shake off the stress I’m feeling.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“What the hell took you so long?” he snaps. His gaze lands on the water stain on my shirt, then quickly moves to meet mine, anger flaring. “Where’s Leo?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Seriously?</em> <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">That’s the thanks I get?</em> “I didn’t have the lucky golden ticket to get on the lot and had to do some finagling to get here. Anyway, Leo’s in the bag. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“You put my pig in a fucking shopping bag?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I look at the bag and realize I didn’t think to leave a little part unzipped so he’d have some air. Oh my God. How could I have forgotten? That’s why he feels like dead weight. <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Please, please, please let him be alive. </em>I give Jack a fake smile, attempting to exude a confidence I don’t feel. “Can we close the door and let him walk around a bit?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Not waiting for a response, I sweep past him and set the bag next to a low coffee table. My hands tremble as I inch open the zipper. I worm my hand into the bag, feeling around for Leo. When I make contact, he lets out a little squeal. I’ve never heard a more glorious sound. I suck in a breath and pull the bag open wide. Leo looks scared, but he’s alive. Jack peers down at us.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Can you move out of the way?” He frowns as he frees Leo from the bag. “You okay, buddy?” He turns to me. “What the hell did you do to him?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
My mouth goes dry. “Nothing.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Jack cups some raisins in his hand, allowing Leo to snuffle them up the way my Dustbuster picks up crumbs. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea to bring you here, buddy.” His blue eyes flash with anger. “You have to be more careful with him. If you’re going to be my assistant, I need to know I can rely on you to handle the basics. Marnie hired you to help me, not stress me the fuck out.” He leans close to Leo, brushing a hand across his coarse fur. “I told you I don’t need an assistant,” he whispers.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I don’t know if he intended for me to hear. But I did.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Someone raps on the open door, and we both turn to see a shaggy-haired guy with a clipboard. “You’re on in five. Come with me, and I’ll show you where you can wait backstage.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Jack stands with Leo in his arms. “You can hang out here and watch the monitor.” He glances around the room. “Just don’t mess with anything.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He disappears with Leo in tow, and I sit on the couch, afraid to move. God knows I don’t want to cause any more trouble. Jack’s words play in my head: <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I told you I don’t need an assistant.</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Whatever. I didn’t ask for this job. I was supposed to be studying abroad in France as part of the junior year abroad program at school, but just before I was scheduled to leave, I was laid up by mono and stuck in bed for nearly two weeks. The doctor told me I could go on my trip, but that if I were his daughter, he wouldn’t send me. My mom didn’t need to hear anything more. I wasn’t going. And it was too late to register for fall classes at UCLA.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
My parents informed me I could take time off from school, but if I planned to stay in my apartment, I’d have to pay my own rent.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I think their threat scared them more than it scared me, because the next day, I was having lunch with Aunt Marnie, Jack’s head agent. Before I had the chance to pick up my menu, she started in. “One of my clients needs an assistant—an efficient, high-energy individual. And, most importantly, someone loyal. I’m talking as loyal as a trained border collie.” Her eyes softened. “And I don’t know anyone more loyal than you, my dear.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Wow. Thanks, Aunt Marnie. Which client needs an assistant?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I can’t say just yet. But I think it’s someone you’re a fan of. Are you interested?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Yeah. It sounds fantastic.” All of a sudden, missing out on France seemed like a blessing in disguise. What if my new boss turned out to be Martha Stewart? I’m a <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">huge</em> fan of hers. I envisioned working side-by-side with her in a fabulous kitchen, getting inside information on how to create fondant flowers with ease. It never occurred to me that I’d be working for <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">People Magazine</em>’s Sexiest Man Alive.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
It was just yesterday that I sat in my aunt’s posh office waiting for the big celebrity reveal. I fiddled with my hoop earring so much that it fell out. Her intercom buzzed, and a frazzled assistant announced, “Jack McAlister’s here. I’ll send him up.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Thanks.” She clicked off the intercom and turned to me, looking all agenty. “He’ll be right up.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I stared at her, unable to keep the panic from my face as I untangled the earring from my hair. “Aunt Marnie, I can’t work for an actor. There’s no way.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“He’s not just an actor. He’s my best client.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Please. I can’t even—”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Look, Jack needs an assistant. His manager already met plenty of candidates, and apparently none were able to function normally upon meeting Jack. I’m taking over now. You won’t be fazed by Jack’s celebrity. That much I know. And,” she continued, tenting her hands like a TV lawyer making her case, “I understand why you’re upset, but Jack is not Jordan Kennedy. He won’t try to date you. I’ll make that clear from the get-go. All you need to do is act kind and professional. No ogling, no flirting, no mouthing off. You can handle that, right?” she asked, softening back into the Aunt Marnie I was more familiar with.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“I guess,” I lied, trying to ignore the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
There was a loud knock on the door. As we watched the knob turn, Aunt Marnie whispered, “Please let this go well.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
And in walked Jack McAlister. Every fear that I’d automatically detest him because he’s an actor was replaced by a new fear that he was way too attractive to work for. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt. On anyone else that shirt would’ve looked plain, but on him, it was like the draping over a perfectly chiseled statue—like you knew something extraordinary was ready to be discovered beneath it. Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Giddiness, panic, and something I can’t describe set in. He took all the normal, plain old air out of the room and filled it with something sweet and magical. I swear I could hear bells chiming. But maybe it was just that all my synapses fired at once, my body’s mind-blowing, ear-ringing physical reaction to him.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Hey, Marnie!” Jack said, arms open. He pulled my aunt into a hug and kissed both cheeks. “So what’s the big surprise you’ve got for me?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He glanced my way, a question in his light blue eyes. He grinned, and I felt like I was swimming in the ocean of all that was Jack McAlister. Damn. I understood why other candidates couldn’t function normally upon meeting him.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He turned back to my aunt. “Who’s this?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Jack, this is Jessica Beckett. Jessica, this is Jack McAlister.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I plastered a blasé look on my face, allowing a hint of a smile. And I reminded myself that actors are egotistical, self-centered liars. “Hi, Jack. Nice to meet you.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
We shook hands, and Aunt Marnie explained that her big surprise was<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> me</em>, his new assistant.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He dropped my hand and crossed his arms, his hands tucked into his armpits. “We’ve been through this, Marnie. I don’t want an assistant.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
His words felt like a punch in the gut. She should’ve clued me in that he didn’t <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">want</em> an assistant. That would’ve been, I don’t know…helpful?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“You need one, Jack. Stars like you sometimes have two or three assistants. It’s time you recognize who you are.” She let her words hang in the air, and Jack listened like a child learning there’s no Santa Claus. For a second, I had the urge to comfort him.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
He flashed a hurt look. “That’s not going to work for me.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Aunt Marnie smirked. “It will work. The solution is keeping it in the family. Jessica is my niece.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Doesn’t matter. I can handle my own life. I don’t need anyone else involved to fuck it up.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“Because you’re doing a fine job of it on your own.” She smiled at him, looking more maternal than I’d ever seen her. “I’m not going to lecture you. I understand how the pressures can get to you. Compartmentalize, remember?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
She paused, and I stole a glance at Jack. I could tell by the look on his face that he was considering what she said.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“How is an assistant going to stop me from punching a photographer in the face, Marnie?”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
My mind flashed with images of late nights and liquor-fueled, testosterone-saturated brawls, and I wanted to run, but Marnie went in for the hard sell. “She can have exit routes in place for you so you’re one step ahead of the paparazzi. You can’t stop being out there. You have to play the game. It’s the perfect time to do this. Rehearsals for Steven Lowi’s film don’t start for another few weeks. It’s rare that you have this downtime. Use it to figure out how Jessica can best help you.”</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
There was an undertone of desperation in her voice. Jack probably didn’t notice, but I did. As Aunt Marnie continued to push, the reality of what she needed hit me. If she lost Jack as a client, it would mean a dramatic lifestyle change for her. They made each other millions. He could easily land another agent, but his leaving her would lead to hushed, speculative conversations. <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Was she slipping? Too old? Out of touch? </em>He was her meal ticket and her bait to get new clients. I had to help.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
I stole a glance at Jack and wondered if I could work for a guy who punches people in the face. Nerves circled like sharks in my stomach. Nonetheless, at the end of the meeting, I was Jack McAlister’s assistant. Aunt Marnie beamed at me before turning to Jack and hugging him. I knew he was her best client, but I got the feeling he was also her favorite.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
It’s hard to believe that was only yesterday. I had no idea I’d be working as a pig chauffeur today. Very glamorous.</div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-68382566004888574832016-03-28T22:24:00.002-05:002016-03-28T22:24:15.499-05:00GIVEAWAY: Dream House by Marzia Bisognin<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://ci6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/KHKjMPUQf9iQ9Hajr4frEreqF5qMZmpJATrAaJwHFagPGX1FZ6xGhBvcAmSKCXc0J9bTniciglVQYv73VXrh2UxgvwvXkcn6OcP3zxbjUuCqfAL7LJsOR1m0mMBpuNXc-6aOjHmK0reUvvfm-NlgmDAvunXbCw1q5eBEZd9HKXDU8iOFVC7dOdy81QE6cIQ36Oo8nB1npf4=s0-d-e1-ft#http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/book_images/onix/cvr9781925368758/dream-house-a-novel-by-cutiepiemarzia-9781925368758_hr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="502" src="https://ci6.googleusercontent.com/proxy/KHKjMPUQf9iQ9Hajr4frEreqF5qMZmpJATrAaJwHFagPGX1FZ6xGhBvcAmSKCXc0J9bTniciglVQYv73VXrh2UxgvwvXkcn6OcP3zxbjUuCqfAL7LJsOR1m0mMBpuNXc-6aOjHmK0reUvvfm-NlgmDAvunXbCw1q5eBEZd9HKXDU8iOFVC7dOdy81QE6cIQ36Oo8nB1npf4=s0-d-e1-ft#http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/book_images/onix/cvr9781925368758/dream-house-a-novel-by-cutiepiemarzia-9781925368758_hr.jpg" width="327" /></a></div>
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<b style="color: #20124d; font-family: inherit;">GENRE: Young Adult; Paranormal Thriller</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Release Date:</span> </b><span style="color: black;">April 5, 2016</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Publisher:</span></b><span style="color: black;"> Simon and Schuster; Atria Books; Keyword Press</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">| <a href="http://books.simonandschuster.com/Dream-House/Marzia-Bisognin/9781501135262" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Simon and Schuster</a> | <a href="http://www.welcometodreamhouse.com/" style="color: #1155cc;">Welcome to the Dream House Website</a> |</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">| <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27173614-dream-house" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="http://amzn.to/1R1X69o" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dream-house-marzia-bisognin/1123083087?ean=9781501135262" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a> | <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/dream-house/id1047504184?mt=11" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">iBooks</a> | <a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Marzia_Bisognin_Dream_House?id=x7upCgAAQBAJ" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Google Play</a> | </span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: inherit;"><b>Quick Summary:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">From YouTube sensation Marzia “CutiePieMarzia” Bisognin comes a debut young adult paranormal thriller about a girl whose dream house quickly becomes a nightmare.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: inherit;"><b>More about the book: </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">When Amethyst stumbles upon the house of her dreams, she can’t help but be enchanted by it, even if there’s something a little…</span><em style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">off</em><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;"> about the place. </span><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">It’s everything she’s ever wanted in a home, so when the Blooms invite her to stay the night to avoid an impending storm, she instantly accepts. </span><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">Yet when she awakes the next morning, alone and unable to bring herself to leave, Amethyst comes face-to-face with unexpected twists and turns—like Alfred, the creepy gardener; Avery, the handsome but secretive neighbor, and a little girl who keeps appearing and vanishing within the house. </span><span style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">As Amethyst searches for the Blooms and tries to unravel the truth, her connection to the house only grows stronger. Will she be able to break free of the house’s allure, or will its secrets keep her trapped forever?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Marzia Bisognin is a fashion, beauty, and lifestyle vlogger known for her YouTube channel “CutiePieMarzia,” which has over six million subscribers. Originally from Vienza, Italy, Marzia currently resides in Brighton, England, with her boyfriend, Felix Kjellberg, a.k.a. “PewDiePie,” and their dogs, Edgar and Maya. Dream House is her debut novel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> | <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/CutiePieMarzia" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com ">YouTube</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/itsmarziapie/" style="color: #1155cc;">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/MarziaPie" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CutiePieMarzia" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">Facebook</a> | Wattpad | Tumblr | Pintrest | Goodreads | </span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-48846655328320714882016-03-10T21:20:00.003-06:002016-03-10T21:20:37.612-06:00Sign up for the latest BOOKTUBE TOUR! <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hello BookTube Tour Hosts!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sign up for the FIRST EVER BookTube Tour!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The book that will be soon touring BookTube from <b>April 17-23</b> is <i>Nora and Kettle </i>by Lauren Nicolle Taylor. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">Sign up soon, <u>there are only 10 spots for booktube channels</u> on this tour due to amount of copies available for this book!</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: purple; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">PLEASE DO NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS TOUR IF YOU ARE NOT A BOOKTUBE TOUR HOST. <a href="http://lovingdembooks.blogspot.com/p/booktuber-tours.html" target="_blank">SIGN UP TO BE A HOST HERE</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All of the information for the book is down below. <b>More information about the tour and tour host requirements will be sent to the hosts via email after tour hosts have been chosen, so stayed tuned to your emails (:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Watch a video about <u>Nora and Kettle</u></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">GENRE: Young Adult; Historical Fiction</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Release Date: </b>February 29, 2016</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Publisher:</b> Clean Teen Publishing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Goodreads:</b> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26489591-nora-kettle" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.<wbr></wbr>goodreads.com/book/show/<wbr></wbr>26489591-nora-kettle</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Format Available:</b> Mass Paperback and Digital Format</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What if Peter Pan was a homeless kid just trying to survive, and Wendy flew away for a really good reason? </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Seventeen-year-old Kettle has had his share of adversity. As an orphaned Japanese American struggling to make a life in the aftermath of an event in history not often referred to—the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and the removal of children from orphanages for having "one drop of Japanese blood in them"—things are finally looking up. He has his hideout in an abandoned subway tunnel, a job, and his gang of Lost Boys. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #262626;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Desperate to run away, the world outside her oppressive brownstone calls to naïve, eighteen-year-old Nora—the privileged daughter of a controlling and violent civil rights lawyer who is building a compensation case for the interned Japanese Americans. But she is trapped, enduring abuse to protect her younger sister Frankie and wishing on the stars every night for things to change.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">For months, they've lived side by side, their paths crossing yet never meeting. But when Nora is nearly killed and her sister taken away, their worlds collide as Kettle, grief stricken at the loss of a friend, angrily pulls Nora from her window.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">In her honeyed eyes, Kettle sees sadness and suffering. In his, Nora sees the chance to take to the window and fly away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #262626;">Set in 1953, NORA AND KETTLE explores the collision of two teenagers facing extraordinary hardship. Their meeting is inevitable, devastating, and ultimately healing. Their stories, </span><i style="color: #262626;">a collection of events, are each on their own harmless. But together, one after the other, they change the world.</i></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com/uploads/2/2/1/9/22195056/5868484.jpg?319" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com/uploads/2/2/1/9/22195056/5868484.jpg?319" height="320" width="213" /></a><a href="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com/uploads/2/2/1/9/22195056/5868484.jpg?319" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lauren Nicolle Taylor is the best-selling and award winning author of The Woodlands Series. Below you will also find a note from her about her inspiration for Nora & Kettle. </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com&nbsp;" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank" title="http://www.laurennicolletaylor.com "><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">http://www.<wbr></wbr>laurennicolletaylor.com </span></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Author's Note:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This book is primarily about love and survival. So I want to thank the people who taught me about these two things. The way they work together. How they are inextricably linked in times of adversity. Love comes in many forms as everyone knows. Romantic love, love of family, of friends, and of oneself. To me, it is the backbone of getting through, the thing that holds us up when the world is trying to pull us down to the dirt. And even if we do fall, I think it somehow stops the dirt from clinging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> My inspiration for this novel came from two people who survived some of the most appalling conditions during their internment during World War Two, my grandparents, John (Grandad) and Jeanne (Nanna). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During the Japanese occupation of Malaysia, they were thrown into two separate internment camps in Singapore. Grandad was beaten severely, starved and forbidden from seeing his wife and baby. Nanna, still nursing her young infant at the time, was forced to eat rodents and insects just to survive. They were just nineteen, newly married and in love, facing conditions no one should ever have to face. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But they got through, and if you asked Nana how, her answer, in her very vibrant and animated way of speaking, was love, the hope she would see Grandad again, and that they would get out, make a life for themselves, and never look back on the muddy, razor wire-surrounded grounds of those camps again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They did get out. They had another child (my father) and went on to live fulfilling lives—ones full of love, grandchildren, color, and laughter. But they were shortened lives, which makes me even more thankful that they shared their stories with me. </span></div>
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Fandom Monthly Magazinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850772539779140408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3098113259649693621.post-53806059283162481892016-03-09T00:00:00.000-06:002016-03-09T00:00:11.651-06:00BLOG TOUR AND GIVEAWAY: The Secrets of Solace by Jaleigh Johnson<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">From Jaleigh Johnson, the acclaimed author of </span><em style="color: #181818; text-align: left;">The Mark of the Dragonfly,</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;"> comes another thrilling adventure in the magical world of Solace. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">Lina Winterbock lives in the mountain strongholds of Solace. She’s an apprentice to the archivists, the wise men and women whose lives are dedicated to cataloging, studying, and preserving the objects that mysteriously fall from the sky in the scrap towns. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">Lina should be spending her days with books, but the Iron War has changed everything. The strongholds are now a refuge, and the people Lina once counted on no longer have time for her, so she spends her days exploring the hidden tunnels and passages of her home. The strongholds are vast and old, with twisting paths, forgotten rooms, and collapsed chambers, some of them containing objects that have been lost and forgotten even by the archivists. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">And in one of the forgotten chambers, Lina discovers a secret. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;">Hidden deep in a cavern is a half-buried airship like nothing she has ever seen before. She’s determined to dig it out and restore it. But Lina needs help, and she doesn’t know anyone she can trust with her secret.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; text-align: left;"> Then she meets Ozben, a mysterious boy who has a secret of his own—a secret that’s so dangerous it could change the course of the Iron War and the world of Solace forever. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #3e3e3e; text-align: left;">Jaleigh Johnson is a fantasy author born and raised in the wilds of the Midwest. Her novels for middle grade readers include <em style="position: relative;">The Mark of the Dragonfly and The Secrets of Solace,</em> from Delacorte Press. </span><span style="color: #3e3e3e; text-align: left;">Her books for the Dungeons and Dragons Forgotten Realms fiction line include <em style="position: relative;">The Howling Delve</em>, <em style="position: relative;">Mistshore</em>, <em style="position: relative;">Unbroken Chain</em>, <em style="position: relative;">The Darker Road</em>, and <em style="position: relative;">Spider and Stone</em>. </span><span style="color: #3e3e3e; text-align: left;">In her spare time, she is an avid gamer, and also enjoys gardening, reading and going to the movies with her husband. Visit her online at <a href="http://www.jaleighjohnson.com/">www.jaleighjohnson.com</a>. </span></span><br />
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