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The Place Beyond Her Dreams
-- EXCERPT: “How did I—I mean when did I become an Eri?” I asked wide-eyed. “It started several millennia ago when Luenah was restricted to its original inhabitants—a handful of people living in utmost serenity and joy, never growing old or dying from diseases. Everything changed when a wily princess, Ani, found her way in through a portal in an ant hole. When she arrived in Luenah, panting from exertion, our ruler had taken pity and accepted her into our fold. With time, she proved to be loyal and imaginative, wildly so, that she found immense favor in his eyes, but she wanted more.” “What did she want?” I urged. “For her people on earth to inhabit Luenah. At the time, the earth was plagued with famine and diseases, and she felt Luenah would provide the respite they needed. As noble as the idea was, it wasn’t feasible.” “Why not? There’s enough space here for everyone,” I claimed, looking around at the beauty and riches in Luenah. “There’s enough space,” he agreed. “But there is no room in Luenah for conflict and turmoil. Look at Ide and Ntebe. See what has become of them.” “A few years passed, and Ani presented her plea again. She threatened to expose the ant hole so her people could enter if our ruler failed to grant even a few ‘chosen ones’ access to live here.” “Did they fall for it?” I asked, my heart beating in anticipation. “The negotiation was tough, but they later struck a deal. Ani was permitted to select a handful of good earthly humans to visit Luenah. These humans, called Eris, were bestowed gifts to be passed on to chosen ones in their future generations, and they were assigned missions to help the earth regain its balance.” “So, Eris are born?” 
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The Electric Girl
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: End of Chapter 1 Polly crept softly downstairs and into the vaulted kitchen. In the window behind the double sink, her mom’s stained-glass butterfly reflected a glint of moonlight. Her gaze darted from the window to the sliding glass doors across the room, behind a small round oak table. A greasy takeout box and two plates of chicken bones on the counter—her mom’s only half-eaten—glistened in the faint light. She paused next to the table, gripped the padded back of a dining chair, and leaned toward the glass door. She peered out, across the backyard and into the orchard. A large beacon of light flickered in the trees. It moved, as if floating. No, not floating—walking. The intense glow, marked by dark strips of trunk and branch, moved at a measured pace. She squinted, trying to make out an outline of . . . whatever it was that meandered through the trees. It’s an animal. It has to be! She lifted the latch on the sliding glass door and gently opened it. Chilly night air rushed in, smelling of ozone and the earth. Her flannel nightgown billowed in the breeze. She placed a bare foot on the smooth concrete of the patio. The cold was sharp and shot straight through Polly, causing her to gasp, but she forced herself to keep moving. She stepped all the way out and slid the door back into place, almost closing it but not quite. The roving light in the orchard had grown larger. It was weaving between the dark rows of trees in the distance. The undulating pace of it . . . it wasn’t human. Whatever it was, it was moving—walking, she thought, but not on two legs. Polly put one foot in front of the other, compelled by her need to know. She crossed the backyard, reaching the bumpy bare earth of the orchard floor. She steadied herself against a tree trunk as adrenaline raced through her veins. She leaned into the tree, hoping to conceal her figure without losing sight of the creature, whatever it was. She waited, watching in both awe and terror as the glowing animal came closer. The creature made no sound at all. Polly watched, eyes trained on the glow itself, until finally she could make out a shape—a long, muscular torso flexed above four knobby legs. Pointed ears flickered. It’s a horse! A white mare! Oh my god, she’s so bright. The horse turned its head, flashing a spiraled horn—unmistakable against the dark branches around them. NO WAY! “Polly? Are you out there?” she heard her mom call. She turned to see her mom’s silhouette standing in the kitchen. Her mom flicked on a light, spilling yellow across the yard. Polly whipped around to see the unicorn again, but the orchard had grown dark, full of silent indigo trees. The glowing animal was gone. 
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The Upside Down of Nora Gaines
-- EXCERPT: Nora liked birds, except when the choirs assembled at the break of dawn outside her window. Slitting one eye she peered into the dimness and grumbled. Ugh! She flipped onto her stomach and burrowed her head underneath her pillow. Drifting into a restive slumber was when she’d experience her crazy daymares. Normally, those frittered into nothingness, but, a few would haunt her…
The beast’s strong fingers clamped the young man’s throat, not to strangle, but to subdue him. Suddenly, he felt bored. The thrill was gone. In spite for his jaded mood, he squeezed the man’s larynx, harder. When the young man’s lips parted, to scream or to breathe, a visceral grin spread over the beast. The moment had arrived. The beast opened his mouth, drinking in all of him. But not his soul. His soul he couldn’t claim, only his spirited innocence, and this young man had zilch to quench his addiction. With the deed accomplished, the beast wasn’t fulfilled as in years past. The unpalatable murdering of innocents lost its flavor, and there was no tolerance for the mundane. “You were too simple,” he grumbled at the young man’s ashen face as it purpled into a death mask, eyes open. “No struggle. No fight. You offered yourself without resistance. What fun is that. Your brother at least provided me incentive.” He turned to the adjoining twin bed. “Youngsters can surprise me. You were tastier,” he said, peering down at another boy, roughly twelve, brown curls littering the pillow, eyes open, dead. “Fighting until the end. Your spirited demise has strengthened me. Thank you for that.” He gathered the boy in his arms, carried him downstairs, and sat him on a chair facing the fireplace. Then the beast repeated his action with the young man, depositing him on the couch, between his sisters. Grabbing the iron poker, he revived the flames. He set the poker aside and turned to admire his handiwork. “What a perfect family. You should be happy to spend eternity together on the same day.” Scrutinizing their faces, he reenacted each termination. “Mama in her shawl, and papa in his nightcap. What a hoot.” He readjusted papa’s cap, then swerved to his staged bodies. “Demure Louisa, Elizabeth, and wimpy Stephen.” He shelved his hand beneath Stephen’s chin and raised it to speak to the young man. “You were born with a burden of wickedness, and groveled like a cowering worm before me. Pleading I took you anyway which was a grievous error. Your foul spirit embitters my gut even now.” He removed his hand from Stephen’s chin, letting it drop like a lead weight. “Lastly, Edward. Ahh, Edward, you did not disappoint. An unsullied spirit.” The beast petted the boy’s hair. “Vulgarity and iniquity I have in abundance.” Forlorn tears bathed the beast’s eyes as if seeking absolution. “You must understand,” he sobbed, grimacing in anguish. “I crave virtue and purity. I need it to survive.” He spread his arms in front of his victims, begging for their forgiveness. “I devour spirits. The more chaste the better, and they are hard to come by. Virtues keep my urges at bay.” He browsed his knuckles over Edward’s supple cheek. “My brave boy. Your purity astounded me. To lay down your life to save your family is a gift. Alas, I had already consumed their spirits.” The beast’s face distorted into a scribbling mess as if whiffing rotting flesh. Performing a flamboyant bow, he said, “Your hospitality was most welcome.” The phantom beast evaporated, leaving in his stead a wisp of vapor. A gasp parted Nora’s lips, snapping open her eyes. Her rapid beating heart slammed against her ribs like a warning mallet. She didn’t or couldn’t move, her body a frigid plank. Her eyes had the capacity to flit about the room, which was now bathed in sunlight.
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It’s Kind of a Cheesy Love Story
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My thoughts:
I fell in love with this book straightaway. There was something special about Beck's narrative that made me relate to her. Beck's identity of a hot'n'crusty baby born in a pizzeria is of course unique, but the observation that identities are often set early on and not easy to change if you happen to live in a small town is very true. Your teenage years is time when you are supposed to figure out what you are, who your friends are and why they are your friends, and what makes your heart beat stronger, and Lauren Morrill does a wonderful job of showing it. Due to the accident of her birth Beck has always known that she would have a job in the pizzeria where she first saw the light of the world. Although she would love dearly to escape anything to do with pizzas, asfar as firstjobs go, this isn't a bad one. Her co-workers are friendly and she can really stop trying to be something else in order to fit with the others, because the Hot'n'Crusty people know and love her as she is. I really enjoyed Beck's journey towards understanding various relationships and friendships she forms and how they all reflect various parts of her identity, which isn't set in stone,but is still developing and changing. If you are looking for a story with a sweet and adorable high school romance, great friendships, supportive parents, realistic, but also entertaining interactions between the characters, and lots of lovely banter- this is a book for you. A book that will put a smile on your face and will make you feel better about life. Thank you to NetGalley, the publisher (Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR) and Giselle from Xpresso Book tours for the review copy. All opinios aremy own and were not influenced in any way.
Lost in Nowhere
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Ice reached for the teardrop-shaped planchette. It was about the size of his palm and had a hole in the middle. When Jeni’s fingers rested across from his, they stared at each other, waiting for something to happen. “Since you haven’t done this before, you might want to circle around the Ouija board allowing the momentum to take on a life of its own,” the medium prompted. “Use a very light touch.” They followed her advice, gliding the wooden piece smoothly over the board. A few moments later, the medium said, “Go ahead and ask if she’s here.” Jeni closed her eyes, presumably thinking about the girl in the legend, since that was their theory on how and why the spirit appeared to her. After a minute or so, remembering the instruction sheet, Ice said, “We invite only good spirits to talk with us.” Then he asked, “Is there a spirit here?” The planchette moved immediately, nearly jerking from beneath their fingers, startling Ice when it moved to the alphabet. Scraping sounds filled the small room as the wooden piece trundled across the heavy cardboard. “H… E… L… P.” Jeni’s eyes had snapped open when the planchette began moving, and Ice could feel the weight of her stare. “What is your name?” he asked. Again, the disc glided over the alphabet. “M,” Ice said. “A… R… I… E.” It continued to move. “L… L… E.” “Marielle?” He exchanged a glance with Jeni as the planchette slid to “Yes.” Then he asked, “Are you the girl from the Kaskaskia legend?” The piece twitched, but remained on the Yes. Checking on Jeni, Ice was glad to see she looked more fascinated than freaked out. He felt no animosity from the presence and his rapidly beating heart was beginning to calm. “What do you need help with?” A long scrape brought the planchette back to the alphabet. “S… A… V… E… M… Y… L… O… V… E.” “Who is your love?” Ice asked. “A… M… A… K… A… P… A.” Feeling confident that they knew who they were actually talking to, Ice asked, “Do you need help crossing to the other side?” The planchette slid toward the moon on the right corner of the board and rested briefly on “No.” Then it went back to the alphabet: “H… E… I… S… N… O… W… H… E… R… E.” Frowning, Ice looked first at Jeni, then at the medium. “He’s not on the other side?” The disc returned to “No.” “Is that why you haven’t crossed over?” Their fingers followed the shuffle of the wooden piece to “Yes.” Ice thought for a moment about his next question and came up with, “Why do you think we can help you?” This time the planchette moved to the center of the board, between the Yes and No. It twisted under their fingers causing Ice and Jeni to hold their arms in a contorted position. When it stopped, the narrow end of the teardrop pointed at Jeni. Her eyes widened. In the smallest voice, Jeni asked, “Is it pointing at me?” Ice asked, “You think Jeni can help you?” The indicator shifted left to “Yes,” then continued to spell out: “S… H… E… K… N… O… W… S.” Jeni flinched, deep creases forming on her brow. She drew her lips into a pucker. Reading her confusion, Ice asked, “What does she know that will help you?” “F… I… N… D… H… I… M.” 
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City of Spells
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Karam stepped forward, her skillfully embroidered clothes cascading down to her ankles in a way that was almost delicate, and so very much the opposite of Karam. Even from where Tavia stood, she could smell the peppermint salve on her friend’s sliced knuckles, something the fighters in Creije loved to use to soothe their injuries and that Karam wore every day, just in case. “I thought we agreed that you were going to stop being stupid,” Karam said, Wrenyi accent thick on her tongue. “I didn’t agree to anything,” Tavia said. “Did you follow me here?” Karam crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you complaining about me saving you?” “I don’t need saving.” Tavia leaned back in the booth. “I’m a busker, not a damsel.” Nolan looked between them with a disbelieving scoff. “Are you two finished?” he asked. “Because we were about to kill her.” For the first time, Karam looked at him, as if she had only just realized— or cared—that he was there. “We have not been introduced,” she said. “No,” Nolan said. “We haven’t.” Karam held out a hand. “Hello,” she said. And then she used that hand to grab ahold of Nolan’s shoulder and pull him toward her. Without warning, Karam cracked her head against his. The buskers broke into a frenzy as Nolan stumbled back, clutching his bloody nose. Quickly, Karam landed a kick to one of the others. Tavia jumped up from the booth just as Nolan regained his footing, smashing a glass from a nearby table over his head. She shifted the backpack on her shoulder and landed a kick to another busker’s knee. He went down with a yelp. “This is why I had to follow you,” Karam said. She kicked a busker in the chest and as he bent over to catch his breath, she rolled across his back and punched another clean in the face. “You are so reckless.” Tavia sighed at the lecture, which was becoming Karam’s specialty these days. “If you were so worried about my safety, then you could have helped me take Nolan down back in the streets before his buddies showed up,” Tavia said. She swung her fist into the air, catching the cheek of a nearby busker, just the way Karam had taught her. Karam took out her knife and threw it into the shoulder of another. “I thought you did not need saving,” she said. Tavia rolled her eyes and kneed one of Nolan’s friends in the groin. “Forget making it slow!” Nolan yelled, pulling out a knife. “I’m going to gut you where you stand.” Tavia shook her head. “He really does like being graphic,” she said to Karam. She reached into her pocket for a pair of mirrored glasses and slipped them onto her nose, like she had seen Wesley do a dozen times. “Here,” she said to Karam. “Put these on.” Karam wrinkled her face and looked at Tavia like she was starting to lose her mind, but when she saw Tavia’s hands go to her pocket for a second time, it seemed Karam knew better than to argue. Tavia clutched the charm in her hand, its jagged edge spiking into her palm like tiny needles. “A way to show that if there’s one thing I have,” she said, “it’s style.” She threw the charm down onto the floor and it exploded into a blinding light. Nolan and the others clutched at their eyes, screaming loud enough to drown out the bar’s music altogether. She pulled Karam toward the door, where the customers were now blindly running and screaming as their vision temporarily disappeared. They spilled back out onto the streets of Rishiya and Karam ripped the glasses from her face. “Not really,” Tavia said, struggling to keep up with her pace. “I think I’d find it boring.” She didn’t need to look at Karam to know that she was rolling her eyes, but Tavia felt invigorated. She had the magic she ’d come for, so all in all the trip to the city had been a roaring success. And with the warm breeze on her neck and fire of victory in her belly, Tavia felt like maybe all hope wasn’t quite lost. Karam could call her reckless and the Crafters in the camp could call her a danger, but Tavia had a job to do. She had buskers to lead, and she was going to win this war and save Wesley, whether people approved of her methods or not. 
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Photos from Simon_sees, Dmitry Karyshev
