by Nancy Thorne
Showing posts with label YA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label YA. Show all posts
#NewRelease tour for VICTORIAN TOWN by Nancy Thorne @nthonewrites #YA #PNR #Romance #Mystery #TimeTravel @SoulMatePublish
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New #Teen #SciFi Release from @lwreyes and @EvernightTeen #Suspense #YA #Romance
Mira wants to die. She’s attempted suicide twice already and failed. Every time she comes in contact with another person, skin to skin, that person’s psyche uploads into hers. While her psychologist considers this a gift, for Mira it’s a curse from which she cannot escape.
To make matters worse, Mira’s father is being investigated for the deaths of several volunteer test subjects of the miracle drug Gaudium. Shortly after Mira’s mother starts asking questions, she ends up in a coma. Although her father claims it was an accident, thanks to her “condition” Mira knows the truth, but proving it just might get her killed.
Evernight Teen - http://www.evernightteen.com/contact-by-laurisa-white-reyes/ RRP: $5.99 Your Price: $4.49 (You save $1.50)
14+ due to adult situations
Excerpt:
I’m alive?
Yes. Still alive…
Again.
A tube runs from an IV bag into my arm, the plastic needle burrowing under my skin like a tick. Thank God I was unconscious when they put that in. I cringe at the thought of being deluged with so many psyches at once—paramedics, nurses, doctors, all of them touching me.
Where are my clothes? They must have taken them off when I was out. This flimsy gown can’t protect me. I want to tear off the tape securing the IV tube to my skin, rip it off like a Band-Aid. I want out of here, but then I see Mama sleeping beside me, her body sloped in a plastic chair. I shouldn’t have done this to her again. But I had to try.
A plastic clamp pinches my finger, connecting me to a heart monitor. Three inches further up, my wrist is wrapped in gauze. Two months ago I would never have had the courage to do this—or any reason to. But now, feeling the staples beneath the bandage, I wonder how deep someone has to cut in order to die?
The curtain jerks back, the metal rings dragging across the ceiling rail. Mama snaps to attention. I half expect her to stand and salute.
“Miranda Ortiz?” says a woman in a beige linen suit and crisp white blouse. She is thin, stiff, and colorless. She reeks of gardenias.
“I’m Dr. Walsh from Mental Health,” she continues. The plastic laminated nametag hanging from her neck confirms this.
Dr. Walsh extends her hand, but instead of taking it, I grasp the edge of my sheet and pull it up to my chin. Other than this stupid hospital gown, it’s the only barrier I’ve got right now.
Mama stands up and reaches over the bed to shake the doctor’s hand. “I’m Mira’s mother, Ana,” she says wearily. She starts to sit back down, but Dr. Walsh interrupts.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Ortiz. However, I’d like to speak to your daughter alone, if that’s all right.”
Dr. Walsh is insistent, in a polite sort of way. Mama leans toward me, and for a split second I think she’s going to kiss me goodbye. Though deep down I almost wish she would, instead she offers me her gentle smile and tucks the sheet under my shoulder.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” she says. “I’ll be just outside, all right?”
Mama brushes a strand of hair from my eyes with her manicured fingernails, careful to avoid contact with my skin. She smiles at me, but her eyes are wistful. As she walks out, my insides tighten up, and I suddenly realize how much I’ve missed her touch. My instinct is to cling to her like when I was small, but instead I press my arms stiffly to my sides like a corpse.
A security guard opens the door and accompanies Mama out into the hall. Dr. Walsh takes Mama’s empty chair, crosses one leg over the other, and lays a clipboard on her knee. “So,” she begins, “you cut yourself last night. Is that right?”
Her voice is casual and smooth, as if she’s just asked me what I ate for dinner. She waits for me to respond. When I don’t, she glances down at her clipboard. “I understand it’s not your first attempt. You were here a couple of weeks ago, I see. Overdose, but no permanent damage done.”
She glances up at me, pausing in case I have something to say.
I don’t.
Laurisa White Reyes is the author of The Celestine Chronicles and The Crystal Keeper series. She has a Masters degree in English and is the Editor-in-Chief of Middle Shelf Magazine. Visit her website at: www.laurisawhitereyes.com
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New #Teen #PNR Release from @MarcusDamanda and @EvernightTeen #Urban #Fantasy
Name: Rebecca Riggs
Gender: female
Age: 15
Profession: Problem child.
I mean, I was a preacher’s kid. My parents sent me
to Damascus Teenage Retreat—for … re-education, you know, after I was caught
skipping school. Then they were murdered. Second Salvations did it. I don’t
know why. Now Second Salvations wants me.
So I ran away. I’m a fugitive.
Do you have any special skills or
training?
I can sing
pretty well. I’m a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a pretty good kickboxer. Also,
church trained me to shoot with rifles and with Gideon handguns.
How would you describe yourself?
Scared and
confused. The whole world has gone completely crazy. What the hell does Second
Salvations want with me anyway? Why would they kill my mom and dad? I’m not
special. I barely even made honor roll last semester. All I want is answers—and
for this nightmare to end. I’m on the run and I have no idea where to go. I’m
not even sure where I am anymore.
Who is your significant other(s)?
I had an
almost-crush on a boy named Brian from Prodigal Sons, but that never really got
a chance to go anywhere. I don’t have a boyfriend, and my best friend back at
home betrayed me. I guess the only person I trust is my roommate at Damascus,
Caroline, but we only met this week. I trusted my mom, too. But she’s dead—so,
she doesn’t count, right? Sorry to disappoint you.
How would they describe you?
Everyone
“describes” me the same way: wayward, rebellious, a “handful.” I used to be good, though. I don’t know what
happened. I pray about it all the time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Tell us about your family.
Dad was
Pastor Mike, youth mission pastor at Emmanuel in Annapolis. He was really
frustrated with me—almost shipped me off straight to Second Salvations before
Mom talked him out of it. Damascus was the compromise, I guess. They did their
best with me. They loved me, each in their own way. I really miss them.
What do you think was left unsettled
in your story?
This story
is still going on. I can’t believe I’ve spent this much time talking to you.
For all I know, they could be tracking me right now, tracing the signal back.
You could be one of them. Just who the hell are you, anyway?
If you could change anything about
your story what would it be?
I wish I had
been born in another time. I could have been normal. I’d like to have grown up
when my grandma was still alive. You know, like, 2010 or 2020, sometime like
that. Before the Scourge, before the Revival. I bet people were happy back
then. I don’t want to be on the run anymore.
Marcus Damanda lives in Woodbridge, Virginia with his cat, Shazam. At various times throughout his life, he played bass guitar for the garage heavy metal band Mother’s Day, wrote for The Dale City Messenger, and published editorials in The Potomac News and The Freelance Star. Currently, while not plotting his next foray into fictitious suburban mayhem, he spoils his nieces and nephews and teaches middle school English.
Website: http://www.marcusdamanda.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarcusDamanda
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1/16
Nics Book Nook http://nicsbooknook.blogspot.com
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1/17
Seeing Stars http://seeingstarsteenya.blogspot.com/
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Darkest Cravings http://darkestcravings.blogspot.com
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1/19
Get Cozy http://get-cozy.blogspot.com
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1/20
The Book Pub http://thebookpub.blogspot.com
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1/21
All Book Finds http://shannaclemens.blogspot.com
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1/22
Nikki Noffsinger http://nikkitrueblue.blogspot.com/
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1/22
Fantasy Pages http://www.fantasypages.ca
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