Monday, July 28, 2014

Book Blitz Tour & Giveaway - Love Edy by Shewanda Pugh

Love Edy 
by Shewanda Pugh

Genre: YA Romance

Published: June 24th, 2014
Publisher: Razor’s Edge

 Amazon ~ B&N ~ Goodreads

When Edy Phelps falls hard for her best friend, she knows nothing can come from it. Forget actual chemistry, or the fact that she cherishes his mother more than her own; centuries of tradition say that Hassan will grow up, marry the girl his parents pick, and forget his best friend: the dancer with the bursting smile. Except he can’t. In a world erupting with possibilities for the boy with a body of steel and dreams of the NFL, everything seems promised while nothing at all is; when he’s denied the girl he wants most.
Two hearts. Two families devoted through generations of friendship. Could Edy and Hassan really risk all that? And yet … how could they not?

About the Author: 

Shewanda Pugh is a tomboy who credits Stephen King with being the reason she writes romance. In 2012 she debuted with the first novel in a three part contemporary adult romance series, Crimson Footprints. Since then, she’s been shortlisted for the AAMBC Reader’s Choice Award, the National Black Book Festival’s Best New Author Award, and the Rone Award for Contemporary Fiction in 2012 and 2013. She has an MA in Writing from Nova Southeastern University and a BA in Political Science from Alabama A&M University. Though a native of Boston, MA, she now lives in Miami, FL, where she can soak up sun rays without fear of shivering. Her first young adult romance, Love Edy, is scheduled for release on June 24th, 2014.

Buy Links: Amazon ~ B&N ~ Kobo ~ iTunes


Friday night. The sky hung heavy, seamless, with heaven’s stars blotted out by overbearing skyscrapers. Shrieks and a cacophony of cheers rang out, hysteria supreme in a microscopic stadium rocking on the edge of Boston’s South End. Thin and buckling bleachers rattled with the stomps of impending mania, shrill whistles and hefty shouts: those were the true sounds of redemption. Fourteen years and not a single touchdown against Madison High; fourteen years, but no more.

It had come at the hands of a freshman running back who couldn’t stop moving, a last-minute, fidgeting substitution. To others, his appearance must have seemed a concession, but Edy Phelps knew better. Edy Phelps knew him better.

He was hunger and discipline, jittery and ravenous, so rattled that nerves kept him shifting and stretching and pacing along the sidelines. Obsession fueled him, and kept him keen on an opportunity unwilling to come. Except that night, chance came to Hassan Pradhan. His chance. Finally.

It happened in a breath. A snap of the ball. A fake pass and Hassan thundered downfield at a speed only fear could sustain. His moment. His only moment. Take it. Take it. Run. Fly.

He could hear her thoughts—no, feel her thoughts. Edy was sure of it. They’d always had a connection. And it was in that way she aided him. Fists pressed to her lips, teeth slammed together, screaming with her soul. Soar. I know you can do it.

Just as the clock whittled to nothing, Hassan vaulted into the end zone.

A collective roar swallowed Edy and the crowd leapt as one. A win. Few would recall the last.

On her left, Hassan’s parents cheered: mother in a starched linen suit and pumps too prim for a game, father in a white button-up, belly pressing the fabric, sleeves rolled to the elbow. His mother, Rani, was without the brilliant red bindi she couldn’t do without, giving her forehead that naked look. On Edy’s opposite end were her parents, their absolute best friends, in the long-sleeved alumni tees reserved for football season, mother free of the skirt suits that dictated her days. Edy abandoned them all for the sidelines, for Hassan. She weaved round patches of shrieking upperclassmen, hopped over rows of empty benches, apologized to the fat man whose cocoa she sloshed, and ignored the slice of a sudden, early winter wind.

He’d done it.

All those nights, all those talks, round and round about the possibility of getting in a game, the two of them in bedroom shadows, careful to keep their voices low. Some nights he thought a chance would never come; others, he insisted it had to. Either way, he always said that if it did, when it did, he would do something worth remembering. And he had.

At the sidelines, Edy’s gaze swept a team clustered so thick, so honeyed together with the sweetness of victory, that she worried she might never find her neighbor, her best friend.

Ice cut the air, and the glare of stadium lights had her like an ant under a magnifying glass in the noonday sun. She remembered the way the Dyson twins would burn insects and snicker, and she thought no, she’d be hot if she were a tortured ant, not cold. The fog of her breath seconded her motion.

She spotted him.

Edy had come to hug someone already occupied, someone surrounded by sweeping blonde curls, dark curtains of perfect hair, nestled by an endless supply of short skirts. Hassan draped an easy arm around a cheerleader with shimmering flaxen locks, mouth curling into a grin when a brunette of with pouty lips cried foul and claimed him as her own. Soft tans and the curves of certain womanhood donned them both. Edy looked from them to her own angular body and knew what she would find: all edges and sharpness, slender, muscles sculpted from a life of dance. The baggy jeans, football jersey, and sloppy poof of a ponytail she wore didn’t give her much to run with either. That hair used to be the brunt of Hassan’s endless jokes. Big enough to tip you back,” he’d say, before tugging it in absentminded affection. She fingered that hair with the same sort of absent- -mindedness, before looking up to see a blonde plant rosy lips on Hassan’s cheek.


Edy didn’t care about the movies, the books, the popular culture that insisted football player and cheerleader, jock and pretty girl, were a natural sort of fit. It wasn’t. They weren’t. It absolutely couldn’t be.

A girl like that couldn’t understand what made him him. So what if he was . . . obscenely gorgeous, with sun-licked bronze skin, silken black locks, and eyes an ever-glimmering, gold-flecked green. He had a quiet sort of beauty, made for old Greek sculptures and timeless works of art. Not that he was quiet. He was explosive, with good looks and athleticism. But beyond that were pleasures and disappointments, what he loved and could not bear. Imprinted on Edy’s mind were the crinkles at the corner of Hassan’s eyes when he smiled, the clench of his jaw when irritation set in, the rich and sonorous laugh that had slipped octaves lower in recent years. A girl like that blonde could be nothing to him—could know nothing of him. She knew a moment and a touchdown. That was it.

Edy’s hands made fists.

The blonde moved in to kiss his cheek again, just as a teammate shouted his name. Hassan jerked back, only to be caught at the corner of his mouth by her lips.

A whoop rang out from the guys.

Heat flushed Edy’s veins and her fingernails dug, digging, digging, until tears blurred her vision.


He was her best friend, family really, if you considered the way they were brought up. So, she really had no reason to—

The blonde threw her arms around Hassan. The team swarmed and the two disappeared from sight.

They were kissing, weren’t they?

Edy closed her eyes, forcing back the hottest tears and the bitterest taste of sudden envy.

She loved him. Dear God, she loved her best friend.

It fell down on her at once, uncompromising truth and the weight of reality like a cloak too heavy to bear.

The boy that had grown by her side, promised to another in a tradition as old as marriage itself, another girl of his ethnicity, religion, beliefs: that’s the boy she loved. A single line existed between Edy’s family and his, between the Pradhans and Phelps, who otherwise acted as one.

But Edy loved him.

And, of course, there was no recourse for that.

paperback, poster and bookmark set for one lucky winner open INTERNATIONAL. Also an ebook giveaway

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Diane J. Reed's STONE OF THIEVES Book Blitz

Stone of Thieves 
by Diane J Reed
Published May 8th, 2014
Published by Bandits Ranch Books, LLC

Genre: New Adult Romance

Synopsis for Stone of Thieves, book 2 in the Robbin’ Hearts Series, a sensual, stand-alone new adult romance with sex & the sequel to Robin in the Hood (readership for ages 17+):

The Stone of Thieves . . . for centuries its magnetic draw has twisted the hearts of ambitious men and women with the promise of power, passion, and intrigue until it fell into the hands of unlikely thieves Robin and her boyfriend Creek. But can they steal their destiny away from the curse that pursues this magnificent ruby heart? As the stone begins to spread its sorcery, Robin races to find her long-lost mother in Italy in the hopes of discovering the truth about her unique gypsy heritage and the ruby heart that is rumored to steal souls. Yet when the desire for this stone by powerful members of her family threatens their very lives, Creek decides to take matters into his own hands to protect Robin, his greatest treasure of all . . 

Available at: Amazon 

The following is an excerpt from Stone of Thieves by Diane J. Reed, a sexy, stand-alone, new adult romance & the sequel to the young adult novel Robin in the Hood. In this scene, Robin & her boyfriend Creek have arrived at her family's ancestral home in Venice to search for what happened to her long-lost mother. The palazzo now offers tours of its grand interior, so Robin & Creek take advantage of this opportunity to search the house for clues, only to be confronted by stranger evidence than they anticipated...

Stone of Thieves

As I give Creek a swift nod and head toward the kitchen, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Swiveling around, I half-expect to see the Italian tour guide. But I find myself gazing at a man so desperately handsome he steals all breath from my chest.

His dark unruly hair frames his cheekbones in random curls, and his face is all hard angles—smooth and sharp as Venetian cut glass. Eyes twinkling, he gives me a broad smile filled with enough charm to send a dozen girls’ hearts into spirals. The second that thought strikes me, a strange flutter arises in my gut and works its way out to my limbs in waves. I feel the stone throb against my pocket, harassing me with whispers that are drowned out by the pulsing sound of blood rushing to my brain.

Because something about this man’s eyes mystify me and holds me into place.

Although he appears in his early 20s at best, somehow there’s a shadow in his gaze that bears the weight of a very old man. Like the other tour guides, he’s dressed in period clothing from the Renaissance, an ivory peasant shirt and pants with brocade detail and black boots. I have to presume he’s here to help with the tour.

“You want to see the rest of the palazzo, sì mia amica?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, holding out his arm in an oddly cavalier way, as though he were about to ask me to dance at a ball. “Here, let me show you the map room. The group will-a join us soon.”

I hesitate, grinding my heels into the alabaster floor.

Truth be told, I’d love some of that pasta in the kitchen because I’m still starving, even after the bread and cheese we wolfed down from the nun’s handout earlier. But as I hear the Conté de Bargona bragging about his blood-red sauce, I can’t help thinking anything’s better than being near him right now. He did seem to recognize me—at least as someone who looks spooky-close to his ancestor. Does that mean he pegs me as his daughter’s bastard child?

Before I can entertain the possibilities, the tour guide forcefully whisks me up several stairs by the time I manage to jerk my elbow away from him. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the other docents cleaning up the blood spill, and I wonder how Creek is doing with rifling through desks and files. At least this trip to the map room could buy us some more time. I give the young man a hint of smile.

He responds by breaking free of my arm and bolting up the steps to the landing, where I can see a room at the top covered in yellowed, archaic maps. Flashing that broad smile again, he disappears, and all of a sudden the landing is filled with a warm, inviting glow. Curious, I head to the map room and find him standing beside two French doors that are opened wide to a balcony.

“The only way to truly know Venezia is by its light,” he says with a certain triumph in his voice.

He’s merely a silhouette now, his amazing physique backlit by the subtle morning sunshine, almost like a phantom.

As my eyes readjust to the outline of his dark contours, I notice there are Mardi Gras masks hanging on the walls next to the double doors. Their hollow, black eyes and faces empty of the warmth of human flesh spook me a little.

“A-Aren’t we here to see the maps?” I remind him, cautious about stepping any further into this room. I turn slightly to glance into the hallway, my eyes hunting past several doors that have been left ajar.

“Creek,” I whisper sharply. “Where are you . . .”

No answer.


Returning my gaze to my host, I find he’s grabbed two of the masks and he’s motioning for me to step out onto the balcony.

“Maps only record the past,” he insists. “Come, let’s see the future.”

I draw in a breath, rationalizing it won’t hurt to stall for more time. “OKAY,” I voice too loudly, hoping it might help Creek detect where I am, “I CAN CHECK OUT THE VIEW WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE.”

Not a sound stirs from the hallway.

Only my echo as it slowly fades away.

With a sigh, and several excuses in mind to bolt free from this guy as soon as I hear evidence of Creek, I shrug my shoulders and stroll out to the balcony to take in the sights.

Before us is the Grand Canal, its waters a deep murky green with hints of shimmer from the early sun that’s begun to peek above the elegant domes and spires. A layer of mist still shrouds the city like a blanket, making it appear hazy and sepia toned, and every bit as ancient as its architecture belies.

“Tell me,” the young man asks, “what do you see, Rubina?”

My heart skips a beat.

I haven’t told him my name yet. Much less the Italian version the de Bargonas gave me at birth—

And I feel the ruby wobble to match my quickening pulse.

“Um, I see green water,” I pipe up, extremely antsy now to get back to Creek. The time for politeness is way over, and as I spin on my heels to go inside, his hand stops my shoulder with the abruptness of stone. He holds up a glittering gold mask.

“Un momento. Just put it on—then tell me what you see.”

He adjusts a shiny black mask over his face that instantly makes him look foreboding.

“This will only take a second,” his accent rolls in an almost musical tone, “I promise. I simply want you to understand. Everything in Venezia changes. The light, the masks, the people—nothing is ever as it seems.”

Annoyed, I slip the gold mask over my head, only because I calculate Creek will emerge from the hallway any second now. Interestingly, when I glance back over the canal, the water has transformed from emerald to an ethereal amethyst with hints of rose that sparkle over the currents as the sun ascends more boldly over the city. It’s beautiful—there’s no doubt about it. But it’s way past time for me to join Creek.

Just as I open my mouth to say a swift goodbye, the man grabs my face in his hands and swallows me in a kiss.

Not just any kiss—

About the Author:
Diane J. Reed has a Ph.D. in English and a lifelong passion for books—both popular, forgotten and literary—as long as they touch her soul and make her want to tuck them under her pillow at night to remember them in her dreams. She writes novels that are infused with enchantment, where characters dare to break through boundaries and believe in true love. She also has a soft spot for artisans and outlaws of the heart, those who burn brightly to live each day as a gift—because it is! In addition, Diane J. Reed has conducted 13 interviews with the cast of the hit TV show Once Upon a Time. Feel free to visit Diane J. Reed’s website at to share your love of books and the whispers of your spirit.
Author links: email   Website   FB   Goodreads   Amazon   

The Giveaway

Grand Prize Package of  
(1) a Stone of Thieves tote bag, 
(2) a $25 Amazon gift card, 
(3) paperback copies of Stone of Thieves & Robin in the Hood—the first 2 books in the Robbin' Hearts series, 
(4) a Gypsy Oracle Fortune Telling Deck, 
(5) Zhena Gypsy Chocolate Chai Tea,  
(6) a crystal Ruby Heart (see attached photo).

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Monday, July 21, 2014

Book Blitz & Giveaway- Challenging Destiny by Cherie Colyer

Challenging Destiny
by Cherie Colyer
Release Date: 03/27/14

Summary from Goodreads:

Logan Ragsdale and his younger sister, Ariana, have been marked, chosen to be unwilling participants in a war between angels and demons.

Logan can sense something's not quite right. Like an unexpected chill on a summer's day, he can feel the unseen closing in. He's had these feelings before and, each time, someone close to him died. He's afraid this time it might just be Ariana.

Logan's fears are soon confirmed when he discovers their new friends aren't human, but rather representatives from Heaven and Hell sent to Earth to ensure he and Ariana accept their roles in an ancient prophecy. Demons want Logan to open the gates of Hell. Ariana has the power to stop them, but if she chooses to side with Heaven to spare the lives of thousands of innocent people, she'll damn her brother for eternity.

Together, they must derail the biblical event if they hope to save themselves and the future of mankind...but what price are they willing to pay to keep the other safe?

Available from: Amazon * B&N * Kobo Books

Logan’s point-of-view

She put her hands on my waist and rose to her tiptoes. “It’s a sweet thought,” she said, her breath warm on my lips. “But my fate has already been sealed.”

      Her perfume seemed to wrap around me, filling me with the urge to pull her closer even though my brain screamed for me to step back. I wondered if this was how the people I made suggestions to felt—compelled to please me—because right then I wanted to sweep Kira up in my arms and kiss her. Although something inside of me clung to the thought that I needed to stay focused on why I was there, every other fiber of my being coaxed me to just let down my guard and enjoy being in a secluded place with a pretty girl.

Kira brushed her lips against mine.

“I’m not what I seem,” she said in a husky whisper.

She kissed me before I could reply. Her lips were too hot against mine. My mind exploded with images of burning rivers and pillars made of bone. Lifeless trees reached out of the ground like the hands of the dead. Fire and brimstone rained down on the living. I could hear the screams of people I couldn’t see and smelled decaying flesh. Nausea overcame me, breaking the spell I was under. I shoved Kira away, doubled over at the waist, and threw up.

“Like I said, don’t trust me,” she warned.

About the Author
A little about myself: I write young adult and middle grade novels. I love finding new stories that keep me up late reading. While my favorite genre is fantasy, if the book is beautifully written with characters that come alive I’m all over it.

My debut novel EMBRACE is now available from Omnific Publishing.

Author Links: 

$20 Amazon or Barnes & Noble Gift Card (INT)

Book Blitz Organized by: 

Monday, July 14, 2014

Diantha Jones' PROPHECY OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL Book Tour & Giveaway

Guest Post
Diantha Jones

Reality sucks. That’s pretty much why I fell in love with fantasy books.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a realist. But when it comes to my literary adventures, I want them as far out of this “real” world as possible. I’m a lover of make-believe, the imaginary, and the impossible. In fantasy books, I get all of that and so much more.

It was not a complicated decision when I decided to write my first series. Fantasy, it was. And Greek mythology? Definitely. After months and months of research and study, I sat back and let my imagination do the rest.

Boy, what a workout that was.

However, the results have been beyond satisfying. Not only do I get a daily dose of fantasy every day I sit down to write, but for that same length of time, I get to be the characters I write about and live in their world. Even if just for a few hours. It’s how I stay sane (or my version of sane) and make it through the day. It makes me happy. It keeps me smiling and I love life simply because I know that I have an escape from it.

And in the end, what’s more fantastic than that?

Prophecy of the Most Beautiful
 (Oracle of Delphi #1)
Release Date: 03/01/12

Summary from Goodreads:
She has a destiny so great that even the gods fear her.
Constant hallucinations and the frequent conversations with the voices in her head, have earned eighteen-year-old Chloe Clever the not-so-coveted title of "Whack Job" in her home town of Adel, Georgia. Fed up with prescription meds and therapists, she wishes for a life where she is destined to be more than the butt of everyone's jokes and mockery.
Be careful what you wish for has never rung more true.
After a vicious attack and learning that her favorite rockstar is an Olympian god, she is thrust into her new life as the Oracle of Delphi, the prophesier of the future. Setting out to fulfill the prophecy she has been given, Chloe learns of how great she is to become, all the while fighting mythical monsters and trying to outwit the ever-cunning Greek gods who harbor secrets of their own. While on a mission to discover the Most Beautiful, she strives to uncover the mysteries of the demigod Prince who has sworn to protect her with his life…and threatens to win her heart in the process.
Buy links: Amazon   B&N   

About the Author
Diantha Jones was born the day thousands of turkeys sacrificed their lives to fill millions of American bellies on November 22 which also happened to be Thanksgiving Day (Her mother says she owes her a turkey). She is a Journalism graduate who wants to be a career novelist (of books, not Facebook posts). When not writing or working, she is reading on her Nook, being hypnotized by Netflix or on a mission to procure french fries.
The Oracle of Delphi fantasy series is her first series. She is also the author of Mythos: Stories from Olympus, a companion series, and there is another fantasy series in the works. She also writes (new) adult fantasy/paranormal romance under the name A. Star.
Author links: Website   Goodreads   Twitter   FB   


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Blog Tour Organized by:

Friday, July 11, 2014

Estevan Vega's ARISE Book Blitz !!

The pieces are scattered. A new nightmare dawns.
The end is coming.
AriseWith the aid of Kyro, a smart-mouthed street hustler, and Redd, a cunning investigator at war with her conscience, Joel and Aimee Phoenix follow a lead to Salvation Asylum, where they hope to find their daughter alive. But Emery and Adam have already fled from captivity into even more chaos and confusion. Danger haunts every action and darkness seeks to claim her protector’s life as a result of using too much of his power too soon. Adam’s soul now hangs between life and death, yet Emery can’t help dwelling on the boy who once tempted fire and her love.
From inside his coma, Arson roams the fiery halls of past nightmares, looking for the code of escape. But when a stranger slides into his subconscious, promising new abilities and a way out, part of him is ready to accept the revelation and be free, and part of him questions the ghost’s true intentions. Divided and fearful, Arson’s mind is now a deadly game of wills. There’s no telling what will become of the outside world. Arson’s only choice is to enlist every power within and arise from the ashes of who he used to be. 
The war has begun. It’s time to wake up and fight.
Buy link: Amazon   

The patterns of his nightmare were a disease. Arson hated the hallways, the rooms—they all had the same ruined look: identical flaking, green-black walls and dead windows. His rage had spawned a reckless trail of flames that wandered beyond and behind their cautious footsteps. Faded lockers had hindered some of his harshest memories from being exposed; nevertheless, he noticed that a sequence of metal cages had been pulled open, bent. Rust formed along the lockers’ twisted edges. A leak from the ceiling now trickled down to corrupt their feeble frames. It didn’t take long at all for things to decay in this place; that much was obvious. Arson’s pulse quickened at the sight of all the torn-open realms.
Adam approached each step with a certain fearlessness Arson desperately wished he possessed. A steady pace that suggested he was looking for something and was close to finding it. But all the silence was driving Arson crazy. He had so many questions, about his powers, about sliding, about why he was plagued to live memories that weren’t his. If Adam could enter another’s subconscious by sliding, did he too have to endure someone else’s intense past? Had he ever before gotten stuck inside of a nightmare like this?
Arson’s eyes opened and shut rapidly, as if his body—or, the body of his mind—knew that doing so was a waste of time. He took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to know the answers to all of his questions, there was one mystery he needed solved first. It was the one thing that mattered above all. He’d been distraught over it since he got trapped in this distorted reality, prior to Adam’s arrival, which had only made everything even more of a blur. Was Emery still alive?
Why hadn’t she broken through?
Why hadn’t she crossed into this supernatural existence?
Why hadn’t the vision of his escape been real? He’d held her against his chest. He’d felt her skin on his skin. Emery was real; all of it was. Arson knew he had mutilated every last one of the sick fiends who had fed him lies and injected him with poisons. They all turned to ash in a matter of minutes. He’d risen out of his coma already and ended their scheme. In fact, he was there again now, his body unleashing a torrent of wrath, power he barely could control. With one breath, he’d watched a doctor become dust. Just by thinking it, his father’s heart had incinerated. The asylum was laid to waste, and Emery’s beautiful smile was first to welcome him back to the real world. If he entertained this reality long enough, maybe he’d smell her again, feel her hair slide across his knuckles, and even sense his knees quiver as her warm breath tickled his neck. He would never let her go. 
“Cut it out,” Adam said with a rough nudge. “You wanna get out or stay in la-la land? If we plan on escaping, keep all that sentimental garbage at bay. You need to be able to tell the difference between what’s real and what isn’t. Your ‘breakthrough’ never actually happened. This place just made you think it did. Get over it.”
“This is my nightmare,” Arson snarled. “My mind created it. I can control it.”
“Can you?”
No reply. Arson just kept walking.
“Some people say you can control what happens in your dreams. I say maybe, if you’re strong enough.”
“I am. Look around you.”
Adam studied the fiery shapes blazing around them. Colorful flowers that bloomed into the bodies of creatures only a teenage mind could fathom. Dragons and bats and spiders and combinations of reptiles and mammals blended together. An intoxicating splash of sapphire, crimson, and golden light.
“Okay, showoff. But starting fires doesn’t mean you can control everything that happens here. There’s some stuff that goes way back. It’s deep in your subconscious. I’ll bet you don’t even know half the stuff that’s locked in here with us. Or even remember it. I’m talking memories, ideas, bad dream kinda crap. It’s no wonder you haven’t gotten out yet.”
Adam spoke like a frustrated teacher. As they walked by another classroom, Arson was instantly reminded of several teachers he hated. Maybe Adam’s voice was theirs.
“It makes sense if you just think about it for a second. Your mind is a powerful computer. It’s capable of storing images you may have only seen once, thoughts you probably didn’t even mean to think. You read a book, and in that book a woman gets brutally murdered. Your imagination takes a picture with the words that described the action. That picture is now floating around in your brain, forever. You hear a song and it makes you angry. Watch a movie and you get excited because some couple is going at it. All of those things—the lusts, the fears, confusion, hatred—it all lives in here. A part of us can contain it only for so long, but when you’re stuck, like this, all bets are off. There is no delete button, no shut-off switch. You get the good with the bad. Unfortunately, your mind seems to like letting out all the bad. Not to mention, in here, you’re weaker.”
“You make it seem like I’m powerless.”
Adam stopped midstride and scratched his temple. His eye twitched when he spoke. “You’re missing it, Arson. It’s not just about power.” Adam snapped his fingers, and his thumb lit like a candle. As the flame crossed fingertips, a grin toyed with his mouth. “See? You could be your own personal superhero in here if you want, but that wouldn’t be enough. You still wouldn’t get out. Because that’s not how it works.”
“I know, the code and whatever.”
“Hey, lose the attitude. I’m trying to help you. There is a specific code that should be able to set you free. Maybe if you got over yourself and started thinking about the future instead of drowning in the past you might be able to help me find the locations of these codes. And just maybe, we get out of here alive.”
Adam quenched the fire in his palm and continued walking.
“Wait a second. You mean it’s possible for me to die in here?”
Adam abruptly replied, “I’ve seen some strange things in my years, but like I said, this is different. All bets are off. Anything’s possible.”
“But if I die in here, maybe I just wake up.”
“You’re in a coma, Arson. Your real-world body will atrophy. A day in here can wear on you out there. Given your weak physical state, if you die in this place, I don’t think you’re just gonna wake up. Besides, if you do, it’ll just keep going. More experiments. More tests. It’ll never step until we end it. I can help.”
A tidal wave collided with Arson’s mind. He was close to drowning, couldn’t breathe. His thoughts crashed into one another—a jumbled, fearful mess. “But these are my thoughts—”
“Most of them.”
“Right. They can kill me?”
“An idea is more dangerous than a bullet. One thought can destroy you. It’s perfect, in a sick way, how the mind works. A nightmare of your own design. You’ve got some freaky stuff in here.”
If I could see your brain, I’m sure I’d be shocked too, Arson thought.
“Maybe you would be, maybe not,” Adam said.
“I hate it that you can do that.”
“We’re in your head, remember? I can feel everything you think. For all intents and purposes, I’m just another memory. I slid into your mind and chose Danny’s shell because he isn’t a threat. A lot of other things in this place are.”
The heat from the fire he created was starting to push into his pores. Arson began to sweat. “If what you said is true, you know, about the memories and the things trapped in here with us…why should I trust you?”
“Maybe you can’t.”

Also Available: Arson   Ashes   

About the Author:
Estevan Vega used to hate reading and sucked at writing…until a 5th grade writing assignment changed everything. With the help of his father, a spark was ignited into his imagination. When he was 12, he got the crazy idea to write a book and threee years later decided to release it. Since then, he has unleashed 7 books and a number of shorts stories which have been read around the world. Known for weaving a poetic style with raw and realistic characters, he has set himself apart in the literary world, often blending several genres together. The Arson Saga is his most praised and most popular work. Arise, book 3 in The Arson Saga, has just released. Read way too much. East mint chocolate chip ice cream. Spread the fire!
Author links: Goodreads   Website   Twitter   


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Thursday, July 10, 2014

Helen Rena's INTO THE BLIND Book Tour & Giveaway

Into the Blind
Release Date: 06/2014

Summary from Goodreads:
In a world where everyone is gifted, be it in dancing, lightning-bringing, or death-giving, Ever is born…all-powerful.
For this gift, she is kidnapped and trafficked at birth. Fifteen years later, Ever still hasn’t seen even a glimmer of her powerful gift. Locked in an abandoned mall in New York City, she’s fighting to survive her captivity, her brutal guards, and the other gifted kids in her cell. She would do anything to escape.
Fox is gifted with time manipulation. Like Ever, he hasn’t come into his gift yet; like Ever, he hates the mall; and like Ever, he longs to be free. But there’s one thing he values above his freedom—it’s Ever’s love…
…yet, when the two make a desperate attempt to escape, this attempt proves so dark and twisted that it just might destroy Ever’s love for Fox.
Buy link: Amazon 

  The green cement floor under my feet wasn’t doing anything. I mean, I wasn’t sure what exactly was supposed to happen, but Sinna was looking down at the floor with so much focus. Presently, he raised his eyes at me, and since I’m blind but have this highly fortunate ability to see what the people around me are looking at, I saw the object of his gaze: myself. Together, Sin and I surveyed my short figure, my pale, heart-shaped face, and my hopelessly tangled white hair. Sinna sighed as if I were somehow wrong for what we were doing.
“Ever, I can’t,” he said finally. “It’s too dangerous.”
I made a funny pleading face. I wanted to joke, to ask him how a nightmare could be dangerous. It was just a hallucination. A waking vision that temporarily blocked out one’s reality. And if Sin succeeded in making it for me now, he’d be able to make one for our guards later. We could be free in half an hour! But I suddenly choked up. The room around me—the cold cement walls the color of gangrene, the ugly kidney-shaped wooden counter, and the piles of books, magazines, newspapers, and journals (for this room used to be a mall bookstore)—all of it began to suffocate me. I had to get out of here. I had to be free. How I wished I could make Sinna feel this crushing need!
He squeezed my shoulder: he understood. Then, sounding like the Collegiate Thesaurus he’d used for a pillow for the last several years, he said, “Very well, Ever-Jezebel. Do you recall what I have imparted to you not three minutes ago?”
I nodded and made my voice sound deeper to show Sinna that I was quoting him, “Ever, you ought to remember three things. First, if you notice that something, even the tiniest and most insignificant detail, deviates from the nightmare we have agreed upon, please stop me. Second, even if everything does go according to the plan, but you feel that you wish to be released from the nightmare, please stop me. Third, once in a nightmare, you will not be able to see through my eyes, and fourth, knowing that it’s not real is not going to help you in there.” I switched to my own voice, “Did I get it right?”
The sounds of steps and whacks came from the back room, where Sinna’s girlfriend was teaching my boyfriend a new method of killing people. By breaking their necks with the edge of a palm. I only hoped Demi wouldn’t kill Fox because that girl was freakishly strong.
Sinna chuckled. “Yes, it was all correct, although I do not believe I sounded even fractionally this excited. However, let’s proceed. An ocean. Blue and warm. With a school of fish that looks like the one on the cover of the Marine Atlas.” The last words he muttered quietly under his nose, clearly to remind himself of what I’d requested to see in a nightmare.
He backed away from me…a few steps…then a few more…then all the way to the massive steel door that stood between us and freedom. He stopped there, and again, we watched the dusty green floor by my feet.
Suddenly it quaked.
Yes, right under my feet.
The snapshots I was getting through Sinna’s eyes vanished, but somehow, impossibly, improbably, I was still seeing the floor by my feet. It quaked once again.
On its third quake, a coffin-sized segment of the green floor in front of me ballooned up. In perfect silence, it wriggled and jerked from side to side, as if something large was pushing our floor from beneath.
My heart sang with excitement: it was happening, it was here, the miracle that would set us free.
The bulge gave one last shuddering twitch and then, still silently, cracked open. A gush of clear, cold liquid shot straight up out of the hole, wetting my chin, my nose, and a lock of hair that had slipped out of my ponytail. As I wiped my face, wondering why the liquid smelled of rubbing alcohol, the water spurt hit the ceiling and came back down, this time soaking me head to toe, and I couldn’t believe it was just a vision. My skin felt wet. My hair and dress clung to me as if they were truly soaked, and the only word I could use to describe this fluid was “real.”
More water came through the crack in the floor, and then more still. Only it didn’t spread—it stayed around me in a large circular puddle. I hopped up and down in it. 
“I’m loving this!” I told Sinna, not sure if I would get a response—he hadn’t specified if we’d be able to talk while I was inside a nightmare. But I did hear from him: he chortled and said, “Just don’t attempt to swim in this reservoir, Ever. It’s not real.”
The water kept on rising. Soon it touched my chin, and I hastened to press my lips together, which wasn’t easy because I was grinning so hard. Then I had to pinch my nose shut. Since I was a bit late on that, a little water trickled down my throat, and it tasted exactly like the tap stuff I drank every day. So…not a salty ocean after all? But no matter, it was still a fun nightmare.
A small, paper-white ghost flitted past me...

Praise for Into the Blind:
“A thrilling story…a must-read for the adventurous of heart!” —Gina Henning, author of Going Pecans

“…genuinely original and engaging…” —Jeanne Dallman, author of The Hour of Separation

“…unique voice…unique world…unique premise…” —Jon VanZile, editor of Dragon Tree Press

About the Author
Helen Rena loves reading and writing novels. And short stories. And flash fiction. She has a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature, and a vast collection of books and green bottles. She is still not sure why green bottles. She lives in Southern Oregon with her husband and two children. Please visit her at   Goodreads   Twitter   or FB   

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