Showing posts with label young adult novels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label young adult novels. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Soul Searching by Jamie-Jo Brenner Guest Blog & Giveaway




What made me choose my genre?

I’ve always felt most comfortable writing for young adults or at least about young adults. Perhaps I’m still a child at heart. I have a lot of experience working with young people/teens so it’s always in the forefront of whatever I write. I love the idea of helping them through difficult times, so if I can’t do that physically through my volunteering then I hope that my writing can do it.

I feel that a coming of age story is something everyone can related to, because you’re either going through it or you’ve been there already. Either way, it’s something that you can understand and identify with. I know that this story sort of crosses between genres a little bit. It could be considered a drama and even slightly a supernatural piece, but at its heart I believe it to simply be a coming of age story about a group of friends who try to find themselves. Brent has to wrestle with his past which causes his sister to have uncertainty about her future. I think that their story is the most important within the book. Their relationship. Their experiences. Their thoughts and feelings with what they are forced to endure is the heart of the novel.


 I believe that these are things that anyone can relate to, but that it worked better having them young adults rather than in their 30’s like I am. I just feel that being a teenager is difficult without any added problems or pressures, so when you put them in certain situations it makes the whole thing a lot more fun to write about. I think as a whole, we’d feel more empathetic toward a young person dealing with an identity crisis than we would with someone more grown up. I guess that’s why I choose the genre, because the story I wanted to tell would be more easily understood and believed coming from someone so young.




I'm a 2nd Dan Black Belt in Tang Soo Do. I have been on mission trips, one to Haiti and the other to a Native American Reservation/Camp in Oklahoma. I loved both experiences.

I am in the Army Reserves. And I volunteer at Camp Sunshine each August. I also work in Security for Farmer's Insurance. And I was a victim's advocate for the YWCA.

My passion is writing and I love to read. I wrote a books, A Place for Me, and most recently, Soul Searching.

When I was 19, I made an independent film (wrote, directed and starred in it) called, Weight of the World. I wrote A Place for Me when I was 20. Published it at 21. When I was 22, my cousins and I made a indie movie out of it.

Now at 32, I wrote another book. Soul Searching.

Author Links - 





I also have a facebook page for me, Jamie-Jo Brenner as well as Soul Searching novel page.




Book Genre: Young Adult
Publisher: Self-Published through CreateSpace on Amazon
Release Date: July 16, 2014
Buy Link(s):




Book Description:


Brent Harper is the perfect guy. He's Max's hero--the boy she's had a crush on since the school year began. But when Brent goes missing, Max must face the truth that she really doesn't know him at all. In order to find him, she will first need to learn everything she can about him.

After Brent wakes up without any memories, his only choice is to trust the first person he sees. Alison, the girl who finds him, promises to help him remember. But what if he doesn't want to remember? When his memories start to return, Brent is confronted with the hardest decision of his life.

How do you choose between who you thought you were and who you want to be?








Excerpt:


Prologue
Brent

There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.
-Seneca

Images of the fight flooded my mind. I’d considered Lucas and Mark my friends, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. I stopped them from picking on my best friend, Max, and the next thing I knew I was shoved against a locker. The cold metal rattled loudly when my body slammed into it. My head throbbed in pain at the contact.
“Stay out of it for once,” Lucas growled.
“Maybe it’s time you learned your place,” Mark spat at me as his fist knocked the wind out of my lungs.
Lucas’s knee connected with my ribs, and I winced in pain. They alternated between knees to stomach, and punches to my face. I fell to a clump on the ground. I knew I should‘ve defended myself, but I made a promise to someone--a promise that I swore I’d keep. I took the beating without complaint, because I knew I deserved it. I always deserved it.
Between kicks, I heard Mark say, “Dude, fight back.”
It sounded like a plea. But I lost consciousness before I figured out the significance of it. It’d been hours since that fight, but even now my ribs hurt and my face ached. Even with all the blood washed away, I bore evidence of the fight, and had feared going home.
I wandered the streets and watched the sky darken around me as I prayed for answers that never came. If they had come, I wouldn’t have done something that I already regretted. I made my choice. And even if I didn’t remember this in the morning, the truth of it weighed heavily on my mind tonight. My demons always found a way to haunt me. Somehow, I knew they’d follow me this time as well. I just wished I hadn’t chosen to start this journey alone.
I reached my destination, and had I taken one last look at the sky. I found my favorite constellations, and recalled all the times I’d admired this same sky. I always felt at home among the stars--they were the only good thing about the darkness. Their presence harkened the depths of imagination. They were ageless as they gazed back at us. We were mere fragments in the lifetime of a star. I longed for that kind of immortality. Even now, I yearned to exist.
I collapsed onto the grass, and fought off sleep for as long as I could. I was terrified of tomorrow. Exhausted, I dispelled one last breath of hot air, and I resigned myself to my fate. Things were finally going to change, I’d seen to that. I couldn’t run forever. And with that thought in mind, I had closed my eyes, and allowed the spell to take me.





Schedule

August 24 - October 13


August 24 - Introduction at VBT Café Blog

August 26 - Guest Blogging at Coffee, Books & Art

August 28 - Spotlight at Cherry Mischievous


September 2 - Reviewed at Give Me The Books


September 4 - 6 Besties at BK Walker Books


September 8 - Guest Blogging at Bikers With Books


September 10 - Spotlight at Mom With A Kindle


September 12 - 5 Things I Know For Sure & Favorite Recipe at CAT Magazine


September 15 - Reviewed at AG LANG Writes


September 17 - Interviewed at Ghost Rider Book Promotions


September 19 - Interviewed at BK Walker Books Etc.


September 22 - Guest Blogging at Black Coffee, Brown Cow


September 24 - Reviewed at Debbie Jeans


September 26 - Review & Interview at Deal Sharing Aunt

September 29 - Review & Guest Blog at


October 1 - Interviewed at The Avid Reader


October 3 - Guest Blogging at Lori's Reading Corner


October 6 - Author 2 Author Marketing at BookIt BK


October 8 - Interviewed at Yah Did Marketing Radio at 6:30pm EST


October 10 - Interviewed at Immortality & Beyond


October 13 - Reviewed at BK Walker Books






Friday, February 14, 2014

Song Reveal for School Nightz by Michelle Cornwell - Jordan

a aweosm brianna shoot 11

SCHOOL NIGHTZ ©MichelleCornwellJordan
(NIGHTSCHOOL VAMPIRE HUNTER TRILOGY COMPLIATION)
Written by Michelle Cornwell-Jordan
3CM Media
Set to release March 18th
&
GOTH-ROCK ARTIST
CECILE MONIQUE’S KINDRED ©CecileMonique
Upcoming single
Official song of School Nightz
(Inspired by the second novella in the series Kindred)
Set to release March 2014

**************************************************************

COVER
Much gratitude!
The cover was created by the amazing (Amy Rooney-CVWriterDesigns)
Photography by the fantabulous (Tiffany McDonald- Anecdote Photography)
Big Hug and Much Gratitude to the very awesome duo
Models
Brianna Jordan
& Adam Becerra

*****************************************************************

SCHOOL NIGHTZ
A New Generation Slayer

A Official School Nightz Cover February 2014 Michelle Cornwell-Jordan

School Nightz compilation blurb: Night School Vampire Hunter (Novella#1)


Fifteen year old Dasheen Bellamy’s world is turned upside down, when she is accused of killing her father and godmother. Dasheen cannot remember the events of the night her world is destroyed, but she feels inside that she is innocent; due to lack of evidence against her and with no other family; Dasheen and her younger brother Jordan, are sent to the elusive and mysterious Ame’ Academy ; a residential school where all is not what it appears. There all goes well, until Jordan, begins to become distant and behave strangely as if he is afraid of something or someone. Jordan is transferred to Ame’ Academy’s Night School track, which is usually only open to special cases. In order to discover what is happening with her brother, Dasheen is finally allowed to also transfer, attending classes in the evening while the rest of the world sleeps. Soon Dasheen’s world changes again as she discovers that things out of fairytales and horror stories exist, that she has ancient powers and is the major player in a mystical prophecy; and then she falls in love with a boy, whose mission is to see that she is destroyed before her destiny is fulfilled…

Kindred (Night School Vampire Hunter-Novella#2)


The Kindred is the second novella in The Night School Vampire Hunter trilogy.

Angel and her friends at Ame Academy, a boarding school for preternatural and humans are back, and they are preparing for battle against the dark forces that kidnapped Angel’s younger brother Jordan. Angel had recently discovered that she was a Hunter and that she alone has a special weapon against her enemies, her blood, which is discovered to be toxic to her enemies. Angel is prepared to use her training and all that is at her disposal in order to save Jordan, even if that means joining forces with the strange and mysterious Rafael, who at their first meeting, she recognized him as the boy she had dreamed about for weeks prior to his arrival at the school. Angel cannot shake the feeling that she knew Rafael before, and is hopelessly drawn to her extremely handsome fellow hunter. Rafael frightens her, he hints of a secret; another time and another life lived. Can love survive two lifetimes? Events unfold that provides the answers to who Rafael really is and what they mean to one another; and along with these strange and blossoming emotions for Rafael, along with guilt and fear for her brothers safety; Angel discovers that she is more than just a Vampire Hunter, and that she plays a major role in a ancient prophecy, which she must fulfill by facing a force so evil that survival is not promised. But she will face the Dark One, Angel will sacrifice all, if it means saving all whom she loves. Many questions are answered, but the drama is just beginning…

Redemption (Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy) Novella#3

Coming Soon!
Set to release March 18th

**************************************************************************

M-Jordan-headshot2-300x257 ME  About The Author Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a Young Adult/ New Adult author. Her titles include the Teen Paranormal novella series Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy, (Print compilation School Nightz set to release March 18th). Full length novel, Teen Fantasy/Dystopian Chrysalis, (New Adult Novelette) Gothic Romance Tourmentin and a contribution to the HerStory Anthology (Pagans Writers Press) She is also the producer/host of the online radio segment, IndieReview Behind the Scenes, where she and her co-host Author Jamie White interview Indie authors and musicians. Michelle has been married for seventeen years and has a fifteen-year-old daughter. A book lover, her favorite genre has always been paranormal adventures. Author Links: Purchase titles by Michelle Cornwell-Jordan: http://www.amazon.com/Michelle-Cornwell-Jordan/e/B007MFT0MU/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1392308825&sr=8-2 Find out more about her on her website http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author#! Follow her on twitter at @mcjordan37 Fan her on FaceBook at IndieWritersreview YA blog http://www.facebook.com/pages/Indiewritersreview-YA-blog/243295842393117

*************************************************************************

Official Night Schoolz SONG
Much gratitude & Heartfelt thanks to artist
Cecile Monique!

a awesome cecile

Contact Cecile Monique Website http://www.cecilemonique.com http://www.twitter.com/cecile_monique http://www.youtube.com/cecilemonique http://www.myspace.com/cecilemonique http://www.facebook.com/cecilemonique

BIO Cecile Monique is a Canadian vocalist/songwriter/composer of original Gothic Rock & Symphonic Metal music.

With her powerful, yet angelic voice and unmistakable charisma, Cecile Monique is a multi-talented musical artist ready to make her mark on the international music scene. Cecile Monique is not only an accomplished vocalist; she is also a skilled writer, composer, and arranger of her own original music. Her years of formal classical vocal training provided the foundation, but her singular creativity, diverse musical influences, and her fresh, youthful style have provided the fuel to create the distinctive fusion of rich, classically-influenced vocals with modern, innovative instrumentation that exist together in perfect harmony and have become Cecile Monique’s signature, genre-bending sound. In addition to her impressive musical talent, Cecile’s cosmopolitan personality and multicultural roots (half European and half Hispanic) also broaden her appeal to an international audience; Cecile is fluent in several languages and has recorded and performed songs in English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Czech, and Latin. In 2010, Cecile Monique was awarded the prestigious FACTOR New Talent Award in support of her self-titled EP release featuring three of her original compositions, which was recorded at Metalworks Studios, Canada’s #1 recording studio. With the launch of her new EP now available on iTunes worldwide, and a myriad of new projects on the horizon, Cecile Monique is a rising star poised to become an international phenomenon.  
 
 *****************************************************************
 
SONG REVEAL
Teaser trailer of KINDRED ©2014 Cecile Monique
  (March 2014)
[youtube=http://youtu.be/JMI6VdjhkCI]





Friday, November 29, 2013

Chrysalis by Michelle Cornwell-Jordan



About The Author

6252875Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a Young Adult/ New Adult author.

Her titles include a co-written work with Danny Jones called Reahket, her solo young adult novella series Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy and a contribution to the HerStory Anthology released March 08th2013(Pagans Writers Press)

She is also the producer/host of the online radio segment, IndieReview Behind the Scenes, where she and her co-host Jamie B Musings interview Indie authors and musicians.
Michelle has been married for seventeen years and has a fourteen-year-old daughter. A book lover, her favorite genre has always been paranormal adventures.

Find out more about her on her website http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author#!
Follow her on twitter at @mcjordan37 

CHRYSALIS
A World of Bid’A Ban Novel
YA Fantasy/Dystopian
Book One

By Michelle Cornwell-Jordan

3CM Media

Set to release
September 31st 2013

Add to Goodreads

The cover was created by the amazing (Amy Rooney-CVWriterDesigns)

Photography by the fantabulous (Tiffany McDonald- Anecdote Photography)
Big Hug and Much Gratitude to the very awesome duo

Models
Jessica Becerra
Instagram: jessdolores
Twitter: @jess_dolores

And Javier Gonzalez

Synopsis

Michelle Cornwell-Jordan Media KitAfter the war between Man and the Supernatural. The world settled back into a harmonious rhythm. Man and Preternatural existing side by side, building a society that was technologically advanced and beneficial to both kinds. Ruled by ThunderKins(Children of the Sun). But there was dissatisfaction in several of the Divisions one of Fire and the other Rain. (Fire) Division did not accept the rule of ThunderKin. The Thunderkin heir was targeted for destruction, believing this would cause the Thunderkin rule to be overthrown. So Chaos was birth and Chaos had a name….Ayda
Ayda Blackhawk was the beautiful, mysterious new girl at Eagle Ridge High School, in the Mountain Division of the New World, She was not there to make friends but to bring destruction. Her assignment? To kill the Thunderkin heir. But Ayda meets Adrian the ThunderKin leader, and through a twist of fate, the rules change which places Ayda, Adrian and their world at the cross roads to either destruction or redemption.
















Thursday, August 8, 2013

Sapphire by Bryan Alaspa



Bryan W. Alaspa is a freelance writer and professional author of both fiction and non-fiction. Having lived in Chicago almost his entire life, he spent a few years living in St. Louis. Bryan's writing first began when he sat down and wrote a three -page story on his mom’s electric typewriter in the third grade. It’s been all up-hill since then!
With over 20 books in both fiction and non-fiction genres available, you can find most of them at Amazon.com with few books just for your Kindle and iPad users. Be sure to check them out.
A blogger for some time, you can learn about upcoming books as well as various author events Bryan is involved in.




Genre: Young Adult, Mystery, Thriller, Suspense, Romance, Paranormal
Publisher: SalGad Publishing
Release date: June 2, 2013

Book Description:

Jimmy Parker is a typical high school student. Unpopular with the girls and picked on by the boys, he’s just trying to survive long enough to escape the tiny Pennsylvanian town of Knorr. With Jimmy and his friend, George, heading to the school dance, they expect nothing but the usual ritual humiliation from their peers. But when a girl in a brilliant blue dress enters their lives at the side of a lonely old bridge…everything changes.

Her name is Sapphire, and she is the most alluring girl that Jimmy has ever met. Yet, there is something strange about her; something different. Why has he never seen her at school? Why does she only want to meet up near the bridge? And why does everybody keep warning Jimmy to stay away from her?

Before long, Jimmy is plunged into a decades-old mystery. The town of Knorr has many secrets; some held by powerful men. Men that would do anything to keep them from getting out. Something dark happened one night in Knorr, and now Jimmy is a part of it whether he likes it or not.

And Sapphire holds the key to understanding it all.

Jimmy discovers that his bond with the mysterious girl creates a unique power between them. A power that bridges time, space, and even dimensions. It is the one thing that could save them both.

Because sometimes the most powerful force on Earth is love.


Praise for Sapphire:


A superb, well written story with a 50 year timeline. Initially a ghost story that turns into a mystery that becomes adventure and investigation turns again into a whodunit.” ~Robert Drake, Amazon Reviewer

I was drawn to this book for the cover and it had been recommended to me by friend who knows my love of Western PA. I thought this book really captured the rural feel of a teenager's life and just as I was feeling a little complacent about it, Jimmy and George meet up with Sapphire on the river bank and the story really takes off.” ~Mary H., Amazon Reviewer

A story of mystery and murder. A chilling, ghostly tale. An account of the pains and joys of youth, a romance, a love story like no other.” ~Daniel Cheely, Amazon Reviewer




Excerpt



Jimmy stood in front of the full-length mirror and did not like what he saw. The sleeves were too short. The white cuffs of his shirt stuck out from the sleeves of his jacket. Any dork could see that. Unfortunately, most of the student body at Knorr High School already thought of him as a dork. The last thing he wanted was feeling that way during his senior prom. However, here he was, looking at an image that could only be described as “dork.”
No one will notice,” said his mother from behind him. She was hovering over his shoulder like a specter. She was smiling and proud. “You can take it off once you get there, and no one will even be paying any attention. Everyone will be too busy having a good time to care what you’re wearing.”
Jimmy sighed and tugged uselessly at the jacket’s sleeve. “Mom, you just have no clue.”
She came forward and hugged him. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Jimmy felt even more like a geek.
I’m not supposed to,” she said. “Mothers are not supposed to have a clue.”
Why couldn’t I have rented one?” Jimmy asked for the nine-hundredth time that afternoon.
You know why,” she said, turning her back and fussing with something out of his sightline. “We can’t afford it. Your uncle had this perfectly serviceable tuxedo and it’s a shame not to use it.”
She reappeared beside him in the mirror, her hand on her hip. Her mouth was a tight line. Jimmy knew that poking at the nerve that they were not a family of means was a low blow. He had seen that look before. This was the same look she had given him as a kid when he wanted a toy that was just too expensive. It was the same look she had given him when he begged her for a cell phone. And he saw the exact same look from her whenever he talked about needing a car.
I spent a lot of time getting the shirt and pants to fit you,” she said. “I did the best I could with the jacket. If you want, you can spend the night at home with me instead of going at all. So, either deal with this situation the best you can or don’t go. I really don’t care.”
She cared. Jimmy knew she cared. She and his father had worked their fingers to the bone to provide for Jimmy. The family had never gone hungry. They had never been without clothes. They may have shopped for their new school wardrobe at Goodwill, but they had clothes. They may have eaten more macaroni and cheese than others, but they were never hungry. Their car may have been rusted through and coughed out oily blue smoke, but they always got where they needed to go. The house may have been run down and it may have been in the part of town most of the other kids avoided, but they always had a roof over their heads. Then his father had died, suddenly, a few years ago. The pain was always there, behind Jimmy’s eyes, lurking around every corner. His dad had done what he could to make sure his family was cared for, but it had not been easy. His mother worked very hard.
Jimmy smiled his crooked smile. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I appreciate it, Mom. Come on, it wouldn’t be a weekend if I didn’t complain about something.”
His mother’s face softened and then her smile returned. Jimmy managed to turn away, searching for the bow tie, before she could plant another kiss on him. He was only willing to be gracious up to a certain point. He found the tie and fiddled with it for a moment. When he turned back toward the mirror his mother was fiddling with something behind him again. He affixed the tie and straightened it. He took another look. His image still said “dork,” but he had lived with that image for a long time.
Before too long he would be elsewhere, and all of the things he had gone through in high school would be over. He could live with looking like a dork for another night. Besides, he was going with his best friend George, anyway, so things couldn’t get too bad.
When is George getting here?” his mother asked.
About five more minutes,” Jimmy said.
I wish you two had managed to find some nice girls to ask,” his mother said.
Mom, there isn’t a girl in Knorr High School that would be caught dead attending the senior prom with Jimmy Parker or George Howell,” he said as he adjusted his tie one more time. It immediately went crooked again, and he decided that the tie really didn’t matter.
I’m sure that’s not true,” his mother said.
Jimmy turned to face her. “Mom, trust me on this one. George and I are not the most popular kids in school. In fact, we are far from it.”
She reached out and pinched his cheeks. This was the one thing worse than the kiss on the cheek. One thing was certain: his mother had some kind of cheek fetish.
But you’re such a smart, nice kid,” she said.
Jimmy snorted. “Mom, even in your day the smart and nice kids were not the popular ones in school, were they?”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “I found your father in high school. He was smart and nice.”
He also played football,” Jimmy said.
He was the kicker,” she said. “You know, back in the old days when dinosaurs walked the Earth, and your father and I were young.”
Kickers still wear uniforms,” Jimmy said. He paused to make sure his hair looked OK one more time. The cowlick towards the back of his head was still there despite the industrial strength hair gel he had put in there.
Just then, the phone rang. Jimmy’s mother vanished into the kitchen and Jimmy turned back to the mirror and adjusted his tie for the millionth time. He also tried to plaster his hair down, but to no avail. He sighed. He was always going to look this way, right?
Jimmy,” his mother said, returning to the bedroom. “It’s Jesse.”
Jimmy smiled. Jesse was the town’s librarian. The library was small, but filled with wonder, as far as Jimmy was concerned. It overlooked a river and was surrounded by touristy attractions, but inside it was all books and musty smells. Jimmy had buried himself there when his father died and Jesse had taken a kind of liking to him. It may have been a stretch to say that Jesse was a father figure, but their relationship was pretty close. Jimmy ran to the phone.
Hey, Jimmy! Are you looking sharp in your suit?” Jesse asked.
Jimmy laughed. “Jesse, I would not look sharp wearing a suit full of razor blades.”
Come on, you know that isn’t true,” Jesse said. “I’m sure you and George will have a good time. Maybe try to get up the nerve to ask a girl to dance.”
I wouldn’t put money on that,” Jimmy said. “I’m betting most of the girls there arrive with dates.”
You just never know,” Jesse said. “I had a pretty amazing time the night of the big dance when I was your age. And I ended up going with a beautiful girl, to boot. You need to be a bit more positive.”
A honk came from outside. This was followed shortly by a sound that was only slightly quieter than a Howitzer shell going off in the living room. George had arrived with his car. The engine settled into a low rattle as the car set about trying to shake itself to pieces again.
Yo, Jimmy!” came the bellow from the car. That could only have been George leaning out the driver’s side window. George was not known for being subtle.
That sounds like George,” Jesse said.
Yeah, that’s him,” Jimmy said.
There was a pause. It seemed like there was more to say, but anything else would have crossed some line between them and that line was still held by Jimmy’s father, even though he was gone.
You be careful tonight, Jimmy,” Jesse said. “Come by the library when you can and tell me all about it or give me a call tomorrow.”
I will,” Jimmy said, and paused, then added. “Thanks for calling.”
You bet,” Jesse said.
Then he was gone, and Jimmy ran back to the bedroom. His mother was there with her hands to her throat in an unconscious anxious gesture she often did, looking as if maybe she had been crying. His mom appreciated how Jesse looked after him, but the pain of losing his father was still there. Jimmy smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Another honk came from outside, so Jimmy had to move.
Jimmy tried to move past his mother, but she grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back and looking him full in the face again. She smiled, and, much to Jimmy’s consternation, he saw tears swimming in her eyes. She was about to give him some sort of speech about how proud she was of him. It would be similar to one she had given him when he had first gotten the scholarship to attend Clark University.
Be careful,” she said instead, her voice quavering. “And have fun.”
Jimmy smiled. This time, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He left quickly just because he did not want to see her cry. He ran down the hall and through the living room.
Jimmy bolted through the door and heard it bang shut behind him. George was hanging out the window of his car, his tuxedo jacket already tossed in the backseat. He had a huge grin on his face, his hair already wild and windblown from driving with the window down.
Come on, the party awaits!” he yelled in the rather odd way of speaking that George had and that so marked him as an outsider, and leaned back into the car, reaching over the passenger’s seat to unlock the door.
What’s it waiting for?” Jimmy asked as he opened the large, rusty door with a loud screeching sound.
Us, my man,” George said as Jimmy planted his ass on the passenger seat and slammed the door. “It is waiting for us.”
Jimmy laughed. “You do live in an amazing fantasy world.”
George leaned around the passenger seat to peer out the back window as he shifted into reverse. “You should move into my world, my friend,” he said. “Plenty of room, and the fun never stops.”
Jimmy laughed again. He thought that maybe it would be a night to remember, after all. Once Jimmy was situated in the passenger seat, as often happened when he was with George, Jimmy’s own form of speech slipped into the oddly formal way that George spoke.
Then lead on, sir,” he said. “Lead on!”











Sunday, August 4, 2013

Ice Rose


 Picture
Genre: Young Adult/Mystery/Romance
Publisher: Fireside Publications
Release Date: September 15, 2010
AuthorAmazon

About The Book:

Ice Rose
 — A teenager’s world is turned upside down when an explosion steals her dad and her identity. Entering an exclusive academy that immerses her in the world of secret agents, she must overcome her fears and disabilities to discover the truth about her dad’s mission, his software, and the mystery man stalking her before she ends up like her father — lost.









Alison Neuman lives in Alberta, Canada, where she is a freelance writer and lyricist. Nearing the end of her studies for the Bachelor of Applied Communications Degree program at Grant MacEwan College, she was inspired to complete the first draft of  Ice Rose. The pace of secret agent books and movies gave her an unlimited playground for  imagination. Music and performing are passions she was able to bring into her writing and build into her characters.

Alison’s writing has appeared in “MacEwan Today”, “Westword”, and the “Edmonton Journal” along with three tracks on the CD release Outside The Window. Co-writing the screenplay adaptation of the book Whale Songwith author Cheryl Kaye Tardif exposed her to the world of screenwriting, which she hopes to continue to examine further in the future. Alison also has been writing shorter pieces of non-fiction, one entitled Establishing Roots, that earned a top ten ranking in the Edmonton Stories contest. This past spring she was a winner in The Expressions of Hunger Contest in the Emotional Poetry category. Her piece Undeniable Craving was on display in June and July in various artistic locations across the city of Edmonton.  She has completed a final edit of her memoir “Searching For Normal” and is currently writing her next young adult manuscript.

When not writing creatively, Alison  is editing or writing for her business, Sandy Tree Communications.




Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Untimed by Andy Gavin


Untimed
by Andy Gavin

Genre YA Time Travel Adventure/Romance

Publisher Mascherato Publishing
Release Date December 18, 2012

Book Description:

Untimed is an action-packed time travel novel by Andy Gavin, author of The Darkening Dream and creator of Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter.

Charlie's the kind of boy that no one notices. Hell, his own mother can't remember his name. So when a mysterious clockwork man tries to kill him in modern day Philadelphia, and they tumble through a hole into 1725 London, Charlie realizes even the laws of time don't take him seriously. Still, this isn't all bad. Who needs school when you can learn about history first hand, like from Ben Franklin himself. And there's this girl... Yvaine... another time traveler. All good. Except for the rules: boys only travel into the past and girls only into the future. And the baggage: Yvaine's got a baby boy and more than her share of ex-boyfriends. Still, even if they screw up history -- like accidentally let the founding father be killed -- they can just time travel and fix it, right? But the future they return to is nothing like Charlie remembers. To set things right, he and his scrappy new girlfriend will have to race across the centuries, battling murderous machines from the future, jealous lovers, reluctant parents, and time itself.


Excerpt: Chapter One "Untamed"

UNTIMED by Andy Gavin Illustrations by Dave Phillips Advance Review First Chapter Cover Art Not Final Formatting Not Final Illustration Formatting Not Final © 2011-2012, Andy Gavin. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. MASCHERATO PUBLISHING PO Box 1550 Pacific Palisades, Ca, 90272 publishing@mascherato.com http://andy-gavin-author.com Copyright © Andy Gavin 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. MS version: 3.20a 75,300 words, November 19, 2012, 1:19:29 PM PST Cover Photo-Illustration copyright © Cliff Nielsen 2012 Interior Illustrations copyright © Dave Phillips 2012 E-book ISBN 978-1-937945-05-3 Hardcover ISBN 978-1-937945-03-9 Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-937945-04-6 Chapter One: Ignored Philadelphia, Autumn, 2010 and Winter, 2011 My mother loves me and all, it’s just that she can’t remember my name. “Call him Charlie,” is written on yellow Post-its all over our house. “Just a family joke,” Mom tells the rare friend who drops by and bothers to inquire. But it isn’t funny. And those house guests are more likely to notice the neon paper squares than they are me. “He’s getting so tall. What was his name again?” I always remind them. Not that it helps. Only Dad remembers, and Aunt Sophie, but they’re gone more often than not — months at a stretch. This time, when my dad returns he brings a ginormous stack of history books. “Read these.” The muted bulbs in the living room sharpen the shadows on his pale face, making him stand out like a cartoon in a live-action film. “You have to keep your facts straight.” I peruse the titles: Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Asprey’s The Rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, Ben Franklin’s Autobiography. Just three among many. “Listen to him, Charlie,” Aunt Sophie says. “You’ll be glad you did.” She brushes out her shining tresses. Dad’s sister always has a glow about her. “Where’d you go this time?” I say. Dad’s supposed to be this hotshot political historian. He reads and writes a lot, but I’ve never seen his name in print. “The Middle East.” Aunt Sophie’s more specific than usual. Dad frowns. “We dropped in on someone important.” When he says dropped in, I imagine Sophie dressed like Lara Croft, parachuting into Baghdad. “Is that where you got the new scar?” A pink welt snakes from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her mouth. She looks older than I remember — they both do. “An argument with a rival… researcher.” My aunt winds the old mantel clock, the one that belonged to her mom, my grandmother. Then tosses the key to my dad, who fumbles and drops it. “You need to tell him soon,” she says. Tell me what? I hate this. Dad looks away. “We’ll come back for his birthday.” * * * While Dad and Sophie unpack, Mom helps me carry the dusty books to my room. “Time isn’t right for either of you yet,” she says. Whatever that means. I snag the thinnest volume and hop onto my bed to read. Not much else to do since I don’t have friends and school makes me feel even more the ghost. * * * Mrs. Pinkle, my ninth-grade homeroom teacher, pauses on my name during roll call. Like she does every morning. “Charlie Horologe,” she says, squinting at the laminated chart, then at me, as if seeing both for the first time. “Here.” On the bright side, I always get B’s no matter what I write on the paper. In Earth Science, the teacher describes a primitive battery built from a glass of salt water covered in tin foil. She calls it a Leyden jar. I already know about them from Ben Franklin’s autobiography — he used one to kill and cook a turkey, which I doubt would fly with the school board. The teacher beats the topic to death, so I practice note-taking in the cipher Dad taught me over the weekend. He shows me all sorts of cool things — when he’s around. The system’s simple, just twenty-six made-up letters to replace the regular ones. Nobody else knows them. I write in highlighter and outline in red, which makes the page look like some punk wizard’s spell book. My science notes devolve into a story about how the blonde in the front row invites me to help her with her homework. At her house. In her bedroom. With her parents out of town. Good thing it’s in cipher. After school is practice, and that’s better. With my slight build and long legs, I’m good at track and field — not that the rest of the team notices. A more observant coach might call me a well-rounded athlete. The pole vault is my favorite, and only one other kid can even do it right. Last month at the Pennsylvania state regionals, I cleared 16’ 4”, which for my age is like world class. Davy — that’s the other guy — managed just 14’ 8”. And won. As if I never ran that track, planted the pole in the box, and threw myself over the bar. The judges were looking somewhere else? Or maybe their score sheets blew away in the wind. I’m used to it. * * * Dad is nothing if not scheduled. He and Sophie visit twice a year, two weeks in October, and two weeks in January for my birthday. But after my aunt’s little aside, I don’t know if I can wait three months for the big reveal, whatever it is. So I catch them in his study. “Dad, why don’t you just tell me?” He looks up from his cheesesteak and the book he’s reading — small, with only a few shiny metallic pages. I haven’t seen it before, which is strange, since I comb through all his worldly possessions whenever he’s away. “I’m old enough to handle it.” I sound brave, but even Mom never looks him in the eye. And he’s never home — it’s not like I have practice at this. My stomach twists. I might not like what he has to say. “Man is not God.” One of his favorite expressions, but what the hell is it supposed to mean? “Fink.” For some reason Aunt Sophie always calls him that. “Show him the pages.” He sighs and gathers up the weird metallic book. “This is between the three of us. No need to stress your mother.” What about stressing me? He stares at some imaginary point on the ceiling, like he always does when he lectures. “Our family has—” The front doorbell rings. His gaze snaps down, his mouth snaps shut. Out in the hall, I hear my mom answer, then men’s voices. “Charlie,” Dad says, “go see who it is.” “But—” “Close the door behind you.” * * * I stomp down the hall. Mom is talking to the police. Two cops and a guy in a suit. “Ma’am,” Uniform with Mustache says, “is your husband home?” “May I help you?” she asks. “We have a warrant.” He fumbles in his jacket and hands her an official-looking paper. “This is for John Doe,” she tells him. The cop turns to the man in the suit, deep blue, with a matching bowler hat like some guy on PBS. The dude even carries a cane — not the old-lady-with-a-limp type, more stroll-in-the-park. Blue Suit — a detective? — tilts forward to whisper in the cop’s ear. I can’t hear anything but I notice his outfit is crisp. Every seam stands out bright and clear. Everything else about him too. “We need to speak to your husband,” the uniformed cop says. I mentally kick myself for not ambushing Dad an hour earlier. Eventually, the police tire of the runaround and shove past me as if I don’t exist. I tag along to watch them search the house. When they reach the study, Dad and Sophie are gone. The window’s closed and bolted from the inside. All the other rooms are empty too, but this doesn’t stop them from slitting every sofa cushion and uncovering my box of secret DVDs. * * * Mom and I don’t talk about Dad’s hasty departure, but I do hear her call the police and ask about the warrant. They have no idea who she’s talking about. Yesterday, I thought Dad was about to deliver the Your mother and I have grown apart speech. Now I’m thinking more along the lines of secret agent or international kingpin. But the months crawl by, business as usual, until my birthday comes and goes without any answers — or the promised visit from Dad. I try not to let on that it bothers me. He’s never missed my birthday, but then, the cops never came before, either. Mom and I celebrate with cupcakes. Mine is jammed with sixteen candles, one extra for good luck. I pry up the wrapping paper from the corner of her present. “It’s customary to blow out the candles first,” Mom says. “More a guideline than a rule,” I say. “Call it advanced reconnaissance.” That’s a phrase I picked up from Sophie. Mom does a dorky eye roll, but I get the present open and find she did well by me, the latest iPhone — even if she skimped on the gigabytes. I use it to take two photos of her and then, holding it out, one of us together. She smiles and pats my hand. “This way, when you’re out on a date you can check in.” I’m thinking more about surfing the web during class. “Mom, girls never notice me.” “How about Michelle next door? She’s cute.” Mom’s right about the cute. We live in a duplex, an old house her family bought like a hundred years ago. Our tenants, the Montags, rent the other half, and we’ve celebrated every Fourth of July together as long as I can remember. “Girls don’t pay attention to me.” Sometimes paraphrasing helps Mom understand. “All teenage boys say that — your father certainly did.” My throat tightens. “There’s a father-son track event this week.” A month ago, I went into orbit when I discovered it fell during Dad’s visit, but now it’s just a major bummer — and a pending embarrassment. She kisses me on the forehead. “He’ll be here if he can, honey. And if not, I’ll race. You don’t get your speed from his side of the family.” True enough. She was a college tennis champ and he’s a flat-foot who likes foie gras. But still. * * * Our history class takes a field trip to Independence Park, where the teacher prattles on in front of the Liberty Bell. I’ve probably read more about it than she has. Michelle is standing nearby with a girlfriend. The other day I tapped out a script on my phone — using our family cipher — complete with her possible responses to my asking her out. Maybe Mom’s right. I slide over. “Hey, Michelle, I’m really looking forward to next Fourth of July.” “It’s January.” She has a lot of eyeliner on, which would look pretty sexy if she wasn’t glaring at me. “Do I know you from somewhere?” That wasn’t in my script. I drift away. Being forgettable has advantages. I tighten the laces on my trainers then flop a leg up on the fence to stretch. Soon as I’m loose enough, I sprint up the park toward the red brick hulk of Independence Hall. The teachers will notice the headcount is one short but of course they’ll have trouble figuring out who’s missing. And while a bunch of cops are lounging about — national historic landmark and all — even if one stops me, he won’t remember my name long enough to write up a ticket. The sky gleams with that cloudless blue that sometimes graces Philly. The air is crisp and smells of wood smoke. I consider lapping the building. Then I notice the man exiting the hall. He glides out the white-painted door behind someone else and seesaws down the steps to the slate courtyard. He wears a deep blue suit and a matching bowler hat. His stride is rapid and he taps his walking stick against the pavement like clockwork. The police detective. I shift into a jog and follow him down the block toward the river. I don’t think he sees me, but he has this peculiar way of looking around, pivoting his head side to side as he goes. It’s hard to explain what makes him different. His motions are stiff but he cuts through space without apparent effort. Despite the dull navy outfit, he looks sharper than the rest of the world, more in focus. Like Dad and Sophie. The man turns left at Chestnut and Third, and I follow him into Franklin Court. He stops inside the skeleton of Ben Franklin’s missing house. Some idiots tore it down two hundred years ago, but for the bicentennial the city erected a steel ‘ghost house’ to replace it. I tuck myself behind one of the big white girders and watch. The man unbuttons his suit and winds himself. Yes, that’s right. He winds himself. Like a clock. There’s no shirt under his jacket — just clockwork guts, spinning gears, and whirling cogs. There’s even a rocking pendulum. He takes a T-shaped key from his pocket, sticks it in his torso, and cranks. Hardly police standard procedure. Clueless tourists pass him without so much as a sideways glance. And I always assumed the going unnoticed thing was just me. He stops winding and scans the courtyard, calibrating his head on first one point then another while his finger spins brass dials on his chest. I watch, almost afraid to breathe. CHIME. The man rings, a deep brassy sound — not unlike Grandmom’s old mantel clock. I must have gasped, because he looks at me, his head ratcheting around 270 degrees until our eyes lock. Glass eyes. Glass eyes set in a face of carved ivory. His mouth opens and the ivory mask that is his face parts along his jaw line to reveal more cogs. CHIME. The sound reverberates through the empty bones of Franklin Court. He takes his cane from under his arm and draws a blade from it as a stage-magician might a handkerchief. CHIME. He raises the thin line of steel and glides in my direction. CHIME. Heart beating like a rabbit’s, I scuttle across the cobblestones and fling myself over a low brick wall. CHIME. His walking-stick-cum-sword strikes against the brick and throws sparks. He’s so close I hear his clockwork innards ticking, a tiny metallic tinkle. CHIME. I roll away from the wall and spring to my feet. He bounds over in pursuit. CHIME. I backpedal. I could run faster if I turned around, but a stab in the back isn’t high on my wishlist. CHIME. He strides toward me, one hand on his hip, the other slices the air with his rapier. An older couple shuffles by and glances his way, but apparently they don’t see what I see. CHIME. I stumble over a rock, snatch it up, and hurl it at him. Thanks to shot put practice, it strikes him full in the face, stopping him cold. CHIME. He tilts his head from side to side. I see a thin crack in his ivory mask, but otherwise he seems unharmed. CHIME. I dance to the side, eying the pavement, find another rock and grab it. CHIME. We stand our ground, he with his sword and me with my stone. “Your move, Timex!” I hope I sound braver than I feel. CHIME. Beneath the clockwork man, a hole opens. The manhole-sized circle in the cobblestones seethes and boils, spilling pale light up into the world. He stands above it, legs spread, toes on the pavement, heels dipping into nothingness. The sun dims in the sky. Like an eclipse — still visible, just not as bright. My heart threatens to break through my ribs, but I inch closer. The mechanical man brings his legs together and drops into the hole. The seething boiling hole. I step forward and look down…. Into a whirlpool that could eat the Titanic for breakfast. But there’s no water, only a swirling tube made of a million pulverized galaxies. Not that my eyes can really latch onto anything inside, except for the man. His crisp dark form shrinks into faraway brightness. Is this where Dad goes when he drops in on someone? Is the clockwork dude his rival researcher? The sun brightens, and as it does, the hole starts to contract. Sharp edges of pavement eat into it, closing fast. I can’t let him get away. Somehow we’re all connected. Me, the mechanical man, Sophie, and Dad. I take a step forward and let myself fall.

About The Author:

Andy Gavin is an unstoppable storyteller who studied for his Ph.D. at M.I.T. and founded video game developer Naughty Dog, Inc. at the age of fifteen, serving as co-president for two decades. There he created, produced, and directed over a dozen video games, including the award winning and best selling Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter franchises, selling over 40 million units worldwide. He sleeps little, reads novels and histories, watches media obsessively, travels, and of course, writes.

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