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Serenade
-- EXCERPT: She started forward once more, silently cursing, when a soft melody drifted from the woods. The sound jarred her to a stop, and her heart suddenly spiked. She wasn’t alone. Someone was out here. The music drew closer, heightening. It was slow and haunting, tinkling, like a music box. It didn’t sound like music from a radio or phone. It moved through the trees, wrapping around the bushes, spreading out toward her. She could feel it all around her, soaking into her. “Hello?” she asked, backing up a step. She squinted into the trees. “Hello?” No one answered. The music continued, and she wrapped her arms around herself, backing up further. “Hello?” Deep into the forest, a bright light appeared, small at first until it burst outward. The light seared her eyes, large and white, and she ripped her gaze away. A voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to run. The music continued to play on the air, soaring toward her. It was getting closer, becoming thicker, heavier. This couldn’t be happening. She was having hallucinations. She needed to get out of here. She needed to find stability. Ground herself. She pushed herself faster, her feet pounding on the forest floor. But the music slithered after her, brushing along her back, carrying with her as she ran. “Stop!” she yelled. “Stop!” She continued to race, until she dropped to her knees. She covered her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stop!” In a blink, the music halted, and the light dissipated, but the music still echoed inside her head, hanging on the air. She stretched her eyes wide, her gaze darting side to side. She stayed frozen, her knees on the dusty ground. Her heart beat loud as the breeze picked up and tickled the hair off her face. Birds chirped, and the forest came alive again. She slowly lowered her hands. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. She had been hallucinating. She huffed out a frustrated breath and headed back down the trail, shaking out her arms. She was stupid to think someone had been after her, or to think she’d heard music or seen such a bright light, but the sweet melodic sound wouldn’t leave her alone. The melody lingered inside her head, weaving through her memory. Maybe someone had been there, and maybe she had been its target. 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #Freedom or Death (Juche, 4) by Adria Carmichael #Dystopian #YA @Xpresso Book Tours31/5/2022
Freedom or Death
-- EXCERPT: The guards led us along the dark, empty streets of the Village of the Strayed as an ice-cold drizzle sprayed us from above. They didn’t tell us where they were taking us or why, and we didn’t ask. We already knew the answers. Neither Nari nor I resisted the relentless progression through the night. There was no screaming or kicking or biting or clawing. We just plodded forward compliantly, aware that any attempt to fight our silent captors would only make things worse. Or, at the very least—expedite the imminent torment awaiting us in the musty dungeons deep underground. Nari’s soft sobbing behind me was the only sound I could hear over the beating of my heart and the stamping of heavy guard boots against the muddy surface beneath us. It took some time for the light rain to fully soak my short hair and glue it to my scalp, but once saturated, large drops of water began trickling down my forehead and into my swollen eyes. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation was strange and made me blink. Considering the direness of our situation, I expected my chest to fill to the bursting point with uncontrollable panic at any moment. But it didn’t set in. Not yet at least. I knew it was just a matter of time before that horrible feeling returned to assert its rightful control over me. But at this precise moment, there was only one feeling consuming my existence—confusion. And as we passed the School of Juche, drawing closer to our inevitable destination, that feeling fueled a myriad of questions stampeding through the chaos in my mind. What happened to Jun Ha? Had the dark figure that entered the back of the truck been our father? Why hadn’t Mina, Mrs. Choy, and Hana showed up at the meeting point? And how in the Great General’s name did Sun Hee find out about our escape? However, out of all the questions devoid of answers, one tormented me more than all the rest combined. 
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Myracles in the Void
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Chapter One – Unforgiving Hop THE RED TIDE is COMING! Water Level Low. SPRYT SightingsHighly Expected. Un-luck + Disaster ToAllWho Encounter. BLOCK EVERYOPENING. — Mayor Tanning What a delightful sign to have hanging in front of one’s home — a mix of “watch out” with “you’re on your own.” But that’s living in Hop for ya, a’kay? As a floating port in the middle of the sea, there weren’t any roads to or from Hop. On their own, indeed. But it wasn’t always so lonely. Fifty years ago, Hop was a bustling pitstop for the hundreds of trade ships sailing across the Domus Gulf every year. A place to “hop” from one side of the gulf to the other. Being a travel hub made it bursting with exotic goods and fresh ideas. But the wild waters of the gulf were hard to predict, and they only seemed to grow more dangerous over time. One shipwreck was enough to send thoughts and prayers, but after ten and twenty ships washed back blown to bits, it started to nip at the profits. Soon traders found alternate land routes that may have taken longer, but at least weren’t so death-y. Practically overnight, Hop and its people were forgotten like a used hanky in a puddle. Trapped on a floating port amid the unfor‐ giving sea, a stagnant idea stuck to them — anything made would just be unmade. What was to stop anything they worked hard to build from falling to pieces like Hop did? Nothin’ lasts butsalt in yer ass became the most graffitied words on the splintering streets, a series of long planks called “Boards.” Was there any point in shining your shoes, doing your hair, brushing your teeth? They would all end up dirty, tasseled, and yellow. Undone, eventually. Was there any point in building relationships, then? Nothing lasts but the salt in their asses, indeed. Just behind that friendly “red tide” warning sign on Boulie Board, a skinny wreck of a home rose from the battered planks. Its number, 76, was drawn large and wide on the front and side in “Hopper White,” a local specialty paint whose main ingredient was seagull poop. Nothing could be wasted in Hop, not even waste. The pieces that made up the home had a kind of widely used look about them, like maybe that wall had once been the barnacled belly of a rowboat, and before that, it was a sign that said HOP: POPULATION 600. Its door was a full fourteen shades of a should-I-touch-that sort of green and was cracked at the bottom up to the knob. Its two sea-weathered windows were small and narrow like suspicious eyes squinting at the neighbors. By Hopper standards, the Izz family actually had quite a fine little nest. The only reason the Izz house somewhat outshined its raggedy neighbors was because of the family’s firstborn, Gaiel Izz. Gai liked to fix things when they broke. Something about broken objects made him queasy, compulsive even; a roar in the belly yapping at him to make it better. As for the things he couldn’t fix, he’d at least insist on putting a sheet of soggy newspaper over it or something. In fact, he patched so many holes in his clothes with newspaper that it became the dominant fabric. It crinkled as he walked. One special night, this industrious fifteen-year-old was lying motionless on the floor in one of the home’s damp upstairs bedrooms. His right ear was practically suctioned to the floorboards as he listened carefully for any signs of movement downstairs. He’d been listening so long his ear had become a bright, throbbing mushroom. This night, he’d embark on his most ambitious fixing project yet — his twelve-year-old sister, Lynd. While Gai may have been on the floor, he wasn’t out of bed. The floor was both of the Izz children’s bed. Many, many things floated by Hop in the strong currents, like sunken ship junk or garbage from far off Electri City on the mainland. But few were “cozy” materials for them to scoop out and use to make bedding. Since nothing came in or out of Hop, if a Hopper wanted something new, they’d best grab a scoop and pray to Zeea that whatever they needed happened to be floating by that day. Gai once scooped an armful of braided anchor rope and wove it into a nice blanket. He looked over at Lynd sleeping on it, snoring like a ship headed out to sea — Twaahhh! Peaceful as she seemed, her little hands kept pulling at the fraying edges of the rope-blanket, almost like tearing it apart soothed her as a babe suckling their thumb would. She was definitely not a fixer like her brother. Truly, she was quite the opposite. 
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All-Star Love
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: I put all my strength into my next forehand. The ball torpedoed over the net, not even bothering to bounce within the court. Nope, that sucker was headed for the fences. If this was baseball, it’d be time to break out the peanuts and Cracker Jack. Too bad this wasn’t baseball. “Ahh!” A figure in the distance went down, knees to the court. A crowd of students suddenly appeared, gasping and rushing over. “You hit him!” someone shrieked. My breath lodged in my throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I jogged over, terrified to breathe until I knew my accidental victim was okay. Caleb directed a dirty scowl at me. “You really are the worst, Maxwell.” I angled to see the fallen student. “I’m so sorry!” “Oh, Maisie.” Nia mumbled, now beside me. “I’m okay,” the guy on the ground said, attempting to stand despite the crowd. His head emerged, sun-bleached brown hair unkempt and curling over a tanned forehead. That perfectly shaggy hair some guys could get away with. He wasn’t a returning student. The face turning toward me could easily belong on a clothing website, the kind with ninety-dollar T-shirts with holes in them for a distressed look. Basically, he was very attractive. A swath of blood streaked across that very attractive face. That part was definitely my fault. Sorry floated across my tongue, but my lips couldn’t form the word under the pressure of so many glaring classmates. Any hope of being an admired senior this year shriveled and burned like a tissue set aflame. He accepted a clean towel and pressed it to his nose. “I expected I might not be welcome here, but your forehand really confirmed it.” “Way to go, Maxwell,” Caleb said with a sneer. “You just nailed Shane Wagner in the face.” Oh. Wait, what? “You’re … you’re—” “Shane Wagner,” the bloody-faced model boy said through the towel. Shane Wagner. The Shane Wagner. I just nailed the face of the number one-seeded player in junior boys’ tennis. 
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Arcadia: The Complete Collection – 10th Anniversary Edition
-- Pre-order for only 99¢! -- EXCERPT: Taken from Talisman Of El (Arcadia, Book 1), Prologue ‘Luther’s dead.’ Derkein’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What … What happened?’ ‘Natural causes. Apparently, his heart gave out.’ ‘What do you mean “apparently”?’ With a hesitant glance at Derkein, his father opened the front pocket of the bag and pulled out a burnished copper talisman with an engraved steel band and a circular crevice. ‘Luther and I dug this up in the Roncador Mountains in Mato Grosso, Brazil. The earthquake that hit South America two months ago … We caused it when we removed this from the earth.’ He looked down at the talisman and then back at Derkein, distress clouding his features. ‘The moment the earthquake struck, we passed out. Two hours later, we woke up on Manhattan Bridge.’ ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ ‘We didn’t fly to New York.’ ‘Then how did you get here?’ His father started packing the weapons back inside the bag. ‘I don’t know. Three weeks ago, Luther called me and told me that someone was following him. I think whoever was after him wanted the talisman, and when they didn’t find it, they killed him. Now they’re after me.’ ‘So give it to them. Dad, this isn’t worth your life.’ ‘I can’t. This is my only connection to Arcadia.’ ‘Where are you going?’ ‘England,’ his father replied. ‘Thomas might be able to help me. If what he told me about these beings is true, I can’t be around you. They got to Luther. I won’t lose you too.’ He turned around and stared at the portrait covering the safe. ‘I miss Mum too, but it’s been five years. Give up before you end up killing yourself. Arcadia doesn’t exist.’ His father looked at him. ‘It’s out there. I’m going to find it. I will bring her back.’ ‘Mum’s dead,’ Derkein snapped. ‘When are you going to get that?’ ‘I have to go,’ his father said in a calm voice. ‘I’ll call you when I get there.’ ‘Dad –’ ‘I’ll be fine. I always am.’ ‘Dad, please –’ An ear-piercing scream ripped through the building. Derkein froze, his eyes the only things that moved. His gaze fixed on his father, who was rummaging through his bag. He took out a black pistol and turned to Derkein, a tortured expression on his face as he placed the weapon in his son’s trembling hand. ‘Shoot anything that moves,’ his father instructed. He placed the talisman around Derkein’s neck, tucking it inside his shirt. ‘Don’t let it out of your sight.’ Cupping Derkein’s face in his hands, he made him meet his gaze. ‘I’m so sorry I got you involved in this.’ He grabbed another gun from the bag. ‘What exactly have you got yourself into, Dad?’ His father looked at him with a solemn expression. ‘If anything happens to me, you find Thomas. Tell him … Tell him he was right.’ He headed towards the door. ‘Dad, wait.’ Derkein went after him. ‘Dad –’ The double doors burst open with a bang. His father opened fire. ‘Derkein, shoot!’ he yelled. Derkein glanced around the room in panic and confusion. He saw no one but his father. Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm, heard his shirt tear, and cried out. Something warm dribbled down his arm, and when he placed his hand on it, he saw blood. His father screamed, and he looked up and saw him flying across the room, crashing into a bookshelf that collapsed under him. ‘Dad!’ Derkein sprinted towards him but felt a powerful blow across his chest that sent him flying backwards, and he landed hard on the floor, his gun falling out of his hand. Staggering to his feet, he glanced around for whatever had attacked him but saw nothing. His gaze landed on his father, who was groaning … and then he was gone. There were no bright lights or loud noise. He had just vanished. As Derkein stared wide-eyed at the spot where his father had been lying only moments before, something like a blast of electricity stunned him, and he felt an intense burning inside his chest. He let out a cry as his body lifted off the ground and hung in midair. Seconds later, he came crashing down … 
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Photos from Simon_sees, Dmitry Karyshev
