venerdì 28 febbraio 2014

Book Blitz: Shattered Worlds Boxed Set di AA. VV. + giveaway

Eccoci ad un nuovo book blitz, ideato come sempre da Giselle di Xpresso Book Tours; chiudiamo la giornata con un genere ancora diverso, vi presento una raccolta di romanzi distopici young adult, mi sembrano tutti molto interessanti quindi spero possano piacervi :) Non perdete il ricco giveaway alla fine del post ;)

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Titolo: Shattered Worlds Boxed Set
Autore: Elle Casey, Shalini Boland, Zoe Cannon, Scott Cramer, Sarah Dalton, Katie French
Genere: Young Adult distopico
Trama: Read these bestselling tales of survival against the odds, dark worlds, dystopian regimes and heroic rebels.
Shattered Worlds features six full-length novels from bestselling authors. Immerse yourself in post-apocalyptic civilizations and bleak near-futures where hope still lives.



I stuffed the sleeping bag down into my backpack with angry, punching motions, sick and tired of having to be here and having to do the same thing over and over again. I hated camping, I hated being organized, and more than anything, I hated what this exercise stood for.
“Don’t do it like that. I told you - you have to conserve the room as best you can. You have to travel as efficiently as possible. Take it out and start over.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes.”
“Trust me, it’s going to be a really big deal to you in the not so distant future.” His voice sounded hollow.
“Says who?” I was being ornery. I knew the answer to the question already.
“Says me, Bryn. And the news. Look around, would you?” He sounded like he was pleading now. “Stop defaulting back to the rebellious young teen act, and get serious. We don’t have enough time to play those games anymore.”
“They’re not games, Dad. I am a teenager. I don’t care what the news jerks and the government say.” I threw my backpack down on the ground. “And it’s not rebellious to not want to play friggin’ survivor in the backyard every day.”
My dad looked at me with a sad expression and sighed, reaching over to pull me into a tight hug. He dropped his nose to my head and inhaled deeply. 
My face was pressed up against his shirt, and I could smell his sweat mixed with the sweet scent of his aftershave. My dad always said he was the last of a dying breed, using that stuff. He couldn’t have been more right.
“Maybe it’s not going to happen here … to us.” I said it just to hear the words, but I knew it was only wishful thinking.
I could tell he was getting choked up again when he started talking, his voice now hoarse. 
“I wish, more than anything else in this world, that you didn’t have to be standing here with me in this backyard playing survivor.” His whole body started to shake with silent sobs. 
“Oh, God, Bryn. If I could do anything to change this, anything at all, I would. I swear to God I would. But it’s happening. No one can stop it.”
I put my arms around his waist, letting go of my earlier stubborn anger, now choking back my own tears. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did,” he said, sniffing hard and clearing his throat, shifting to hold me at arm’s length. He was staring at me while he smiled through his tears, giving me that look. The one that always made me confess.
“Okay, so maybe I did mean it. But I’ll shut up about it for a little while.”
“Not for too long, though. You wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t complaining about something.”
I tried to slap him playfully but he moved too fast for me. My dad is light on his feet, an expert level-one practitioner of krav maga - a certified badass. He’d only recently taken up camping.
“Pick it up,” he ordered, now back in control of his emotions. “Do it again. Only this time, get the air out of that bag first, condense it down …”
I cut him off. “I know, I know … ‘down into the smallest footprint possible.’ Geez, Dad, I’m not an idiot.”
I shook the sleeping bag out and started rolling it up quickly, using the moves I’d been practicing for four months straight to squeeze it down into a lump the size of a small loaf of bread. I folded the whole thing in half, pushed it to the bottom of the backpack, and then let it unfold itself one time, before putting the other items in on top of it: unbreakable water bottle, half-liter of bleach, square of plastic, cup, hunting knife, and various other tools my father was quite certain I would need … once all the adults in the world had died off, leaving us kids alone to fend for ourselves.


When the dust cloud appears, we know they are coming.
My mama and I spy the cloud churning up the road at the same time. Her potato peeler clatters to the porch floor, sending goose flesh over my arms. I stare at the cloud kicked up by dozens of approaching tires and then back to my mother. There's no mistaking it. The fear is written on her face.
She grips my shoulder, hand already shaking. “Get in the cellar.” Her face tightens. 
Her rocking chair scrapes against the porch floorboards. She yanks open the screen door and runs into the house, yelling for my brother. 
I stand up, my own hands trembling now. The advance of the dust cloud has me riveted, like an animal caught in headlights. It's what we've drilled for, prepared for, whispered about at night. And now they're coming.
My mama's frantic screams pierce my thoughts. “Riley, the storm cellar! Hurry!”
I shake myself out of my stupor and force my jellied legs to move. Running into the house, I spy my stepfather, Arn, at the pitted kitchen table. He slips round after round into his hunting rifle, his calloused fingers fumbling for more in the box that holds too few. He drops one. It hits on the floor and rolls under the table. 
“Gawddammit!” he swears. His leathery forehead wrinkles as he searches frantically. 
I run over, grab it and hand it to him. The bullet feels cold against my hot palm. His eyes latch onto mine and a sadness creeps over his face. This frightens me more than anything. He grabs our pistol off the table and thrusts it forward. “You'll need this.” His eyes say one gun won't be enough. 
The revolver is heavy and solid in my trembling hand. I curl my fingers over the wooden grip, worn smooth with use. I let my index finger stray to the trigger, place my other hand under the grip like he taught me and aim at the dust cloud. I look up at him, unable to ask what I need to know. 
In this moment Arn looks old. His sun-beaten face is carved by wrinkles and his forehead is dotted with sweat. The patched overalls sag on his too-thin body. Before this he was out milking the cow or mucking out the barn, mundane, boring tasks that I wish he could go back to now. Arn grabs both my shoulders and fixes me with frightened blue eyes. 
“You 'member what I taught you?” 
“Is it the Breeders? It is, isn't it?” My voice breaks with the terror that's sticking to my insides and knotting my stomach. Arn says nothing. He doesn't have to. His face tells me everything I need to know. 
“I can fight.” The gun trembles, but I lock my elbows and grit my teeth. I want this chance to face the people who've been hunting us our whole lives. 
Arn shakes his head, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Soon's they see you, they'd kill the men and take the women. Get in the cellar. I'll handle this.” His weathered hand squeezes mine. It’s the most affection he's shown me in months. I savor the roughness of his palm. Then, quick as it came, he drops my hand and goes back to slipping bullets into his rifle, his eyes marking the approach of our enemies. 
From behind me: “Riley?!” My mama is near hysterics. 
“Coming!” I sprint through the old farmhouse, the boards moaning beneath my feet. I 
skid to a stop at our bedroom and scan it for my brother. Both beds lay empty. Ethan's boots lie on their sides under his bed. His comic book is forgotten on the floor. He’d never leave it there on a normal day. But this isn’t a normal day. Angry motors growl closer. How soon before they get here? Minutes? Seconds? 
 I burst through the back door. The storm cellar sits fifteen paces from the house, dug deep in the ground. When we moved in six months ago, my mama showed us the cellar that, when shut, folds neatly into the dusty landscape. We've taken pains to camouflage the doors, but will it be enough? 
The cellar doors yawn wide, revealing the dark earthen hole. My mama crouches at the cellar's mouth, her hand-sewn cotton dress gathering around her knees. My little brother, Ethan, descends the ladder. His hand clutches her scarred one for a moment before he disappears into shadow. He's gone. An urge to sob washes over me. I bite it back and run over.
My mama turns, searching for me. From this angle she is breathtaking in her loveliness. 
Her shoulder-length black hair shines in the hazy sunlight, and her left cheek is supple and pink. She’s a beauty queen, a ten as Auntie says. It’s the other side of her face that marks the horrors she's seen. Red angry burn scars travel her neck and face. Her skin bunches and grooves like a pitted dirt road. Her left ear is only a ragged, red hole. Yet, I rarely notice her burned face. This is the way she’s looked as long as I can remember.
I step to the edge of the cellar and peer at my brother. From the bottom of the hole, his eyes are wide as a jackrabbit's caught in my snare. His lower lip trembles. He looks five instead of eight. “It's okay,” I lie. 
My mother grips my shoulder and presses down. “Get in.” Her voice is a choked whisper. She glances back at the dust plume. The gray cloud hangs huge, blocking out the horizon, a tornado set to tear our world apart.
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Book Blitz: Riding Desire di AA. VV. + giveaway

Eccoci ad un nuovo book blitz, ideato come sempre da Giselle di Xpresso Book Tours; cambiamo genere, vi presento una raccolta di romanzi romance per adulti, spero possa piacervi :) Non perdete il ricco giveaway alla fine del post ;)

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Titolo: Riding desire
Autore: AA. VV.
Genere: Romance adult
Trama: Hop on for the ride of your life in this NEW exclusive limited edition box set of 14 never before published books from the industry's hottest authors in contemporary romance.
Whether you crave alpha heroes, possessively wicked boyfriends, sexy inked rock stars, or passionately naughty lovers, Riding Desire will fulfill your bad boy biker fantasies like no other boxed set you've ever read.

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Book Blitz: Of sea and stone di Kate Avery Ellison + giveaway

Buongiorno ^^ Eccoci ad un nuovo book blitz, ideato come sempre da Giselle di Xpresso Book Tours; oggi vi presento un fantasy young adult , spero possa piacervi :) Non perdete il ricco giveaway alla fine del post ;)

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Titolo: Of sea and stone
Autore: Kate Avery Ellison
Genere: Young Adult fantasy
Trama: All her life, clever Aemi has been a slave in the Village of the Rocks, a place where the sea and sky meet. She’s heard the stories about the fabled People of the Sea, a people who possess unimaginable technology who live below the waves in the dark, secret places of the ocean. But she never dreamed those stories were true.
When a ship emerges from the ocean and men burn her village, Aemi is captured, and enslaved below the waves in Itlantis, a world filled with ancient cities of glass and metal, floating gardens, and wondrous devices that seem to work magic. To make matters worse, her village nemesis, the stuck-up mayor’s son Nol, was captured with her, and they are made servants in the same household beneath the sea.
Desperate to be free, Aemi plots her escape, even going so far as to work with Nol. But the sea holds more secrets than she realizes, and escape might not be as simple as leaving…

Visualizzazione di Kate.jpgKate Avery Ellison I live in Georgia with my wonderful husband and two spoiled cats. When I'm not writing, I'm usually catching up on my extensive Netflix queue, reading a book, giggling at something funny online, or trying to convince my husband to give me just ONE bite of whatever he's eating.



The sea sang to itself in the music of blue water and salt and gulls’ cries as I sat above it, crouched atop the column-like Looking Rock with a spear clenched in my hand and words of frustration crawling on my tongue. The water below lapped at the edges of the rock, foaming over the pebbled shore that ringed the rock, and the foam hid the fish I was trying to catch.
I bent over the water and stabbed the spear into the foaming waves. When I withdrew it from the pool, a fish wriggled on the end, and I smiled with a quick jerk of my lips. I had always been good with a spear, somewhat inexplicably according to Nealla.
I tossed the fish into my sack and moved to the other side of the Looking Rock, where the tide pools were often filled with exotic things washed in from the sea. It was a secret place, and few knew to look here. I came often whenever I had a moment of freedom from my duties, for if I could catch enough things of value, I could sell them in the marketplace and add coin to the stash I kept hidden away, the stash that would one day buy my freedom.
The first tide pools were disappointingly empty except for a few anemone and starfish clinging to the sides of the rocks, and a yellow fish darting away from my face as I peered down.
I moved on. Three more pools, empty. But luck had not abandoned me. At the final pool I stopped, transfixed by the creature I saw beneath the surface.
It was eerie and beautiful, with fluttering fins along its throat and back and tail, speckled blue scales, and a mouth full of teeth. It wasn’t a fish or a dolphin or a snake, but something that looked like bits of all three. I had never seen such a creature. It was some monster from the depths, but a small one.
I bent over the rock, sliding my belly forward by inches, peering into the deep glassy green of the pool beneath where the creature swam in small circles, imprisoned until high tide. I didn’t want to use a spear on such a magnificent creature. For this, I needed a net.
I stabbed my spear into the edge of the pool, marking the fish-creature as mine. Then I scrambled to the edge of the Looking Rock. The wind swirled around me, wetting me with a mist of sea spray as I brought my arms forward and dove into the sea below.
Bubbles exploded around me as I swam through the green-blue water. Below, fish wove between a jewel-colored spread of coral. A dark line at the edge of my vision signaled where the shallow waters ended and the deep water began.
No one ever went out into deep water.
I reached the larger rocks that rose from the water like the spearheads of giants and hauled myself onto a sea-carved shelf of white stone. My master’s house was before me, a collection of caves and hollows in the rock. It was a nice house, with a strip of pebbled beach facing west. Beyond the beach, a shallow place for bathing and washing was surrounded by thin white stones that protruded from the water like fingers and broke the force of the waves.
A hole in the rock wall led to the interior. Strings of shells formed a curtain barrier, and they tinkled and clicked in the wind. I shoved them aside and stepped into the cool stone passage leading to the house.
I needed one of my master’s nets. Just to borrow, to catch that fish.
The master’s father sat on a mat beside the fire, muttering to himself. Beside him were nets, the small ones used for hand fishing. He was mending them, his wrinkled hands moving swiftly as he worked over a hole.
“Hello, Old One,” I said, speaking carefully and respectfully. “I need to borrow a net.”
He lifted his head and scrutinized me. I was dripping from the sea. My hair stuck to my neck and forehead. Droplets fell from my fingers.
He reached for one of the nets and lifted it toward me, but pulled it back before I could take it.
“Don’t go in the deep places,” he said, and his voice creaked. “The Sea People are in the deep places.”
“Yes, Old One,” I said, leaning forward to reach the net.
The master’s father was crazy, but gentle. Sometimes he liked to ramble about fables from his youth, and sometimes I listened, because none of the others did, and I felt sorry for him.
I didn’t have time for it today.
“I saw one of their ships the other night,” he continued, pulling the net farther away and out of reach again. “Came up from the depths, black as a wet stone, bright with lights. 
They’re watching us.”
“Don’t worry, Old One,” I said. “We’ll keep you safe.”
He harrumphed as if doubtful and handed me the net. “Stay out of the deep places,” he said again.
I snatched the net and hurried outside once more. The wind fanned my face. I stopped at the edge of the water and shaded my eyes against the glaring sun.
Someone else was on the Looking Rock. I saw a figure moving around the pool. Confound that Old One and his stories! I splashed into the water, my heart pounding as I swam hard, kicking my legs. I reached the rock and hauled myself up, hair dripping, leaving wet footprints as I ran to the tide pools. A young man stood at the edge of the pool, his feet hanging in the water, his arms braced behind him and his face tipped toward the sun. He was lounging, waiting for me, stretched out as if to show off his physical perfections and the gold bracelets on his arms and ankles. That handsome, arrogant face, smirking mouth, and long, dark lashes that contrasted with his pale, wavy hair—I’d know him anywhere.
I looked past him into the water and stopped in horror.
The creature was gone.
My bag of sad little fish lay at the edge of the rock, looking deflated in the sunlight. My spear lay beside it.
Fury built up at the back of my neck and swept through my throat to take hold of my tongue. Anger licked at my bones.
“You stole my catch.”
Nol opened one eye and looked at me. “What are you talking about? Your bag of fish is right there. I didn’t touch it.”
“No. The creature in the pool—it was my catch. I found it first, as was clearly 
demonstrated by my spear marking the pool. You took it! Where did you put it?” I was furious, devastated.
Nol straightened and blinked at me. His smile was slow and smooth, like butter being spread across bread.
“It wasn’t your fish,” he said. “It wasn’t in your net, so you had no claim.”
“I marked it with my spear—”
“You aren’t a fisherman, thrall-girl. The rules of the village don’t apply to the likes of you. 
You have no identifying marker that deserves to be honored, and that thing you call a spear is simply a piece of garbage with a point at one end. It could have washed into the pool on its own, for all I know.”
I wanted to strangle him. My anger was hot and fierce, and it made my legs tremble. But he was the mayor’s second son, and he could do as he liked. Instead, I bit my tongue and turned away.
I’d lost this round, but I would not lose to Nol again.


The broad stone ground of the Training Rock was warm and smooth beneath my bare feet. A salt-scented wind teased the tendrils of hair escaping from beneath my hood. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin as if I belonged as I approached the group of boys and young men, who stood in a haphazard line before the target of wood.
I took my place at the end of the line.
The smell of salt filled the air. Gulls screamed overhead as the first boy drew back his arm and threw his spear. It glanced off the target and clattered on the rock. His face creased with disgust, and he turned away. The second boy threw, and the tip of his spear embedded itself in the corner of the target.
I was better at throwing than any of these boys. I’d always been good at it, better than anyone else my age when I was small enough to swim in the shallows with the free children and sleep in my mother’s arms at night. My mother had beamed with pride to see me throw, and so I continued to hone my skill even after she was gone. Sometimes I went out to the edge of the rocks that formed a ring around the sea like a circle of stone arms, and I caught fish to put on the fire so Nealla and I could eat more than the meager food we were provided for our meals. I was better than all of them, but being a girl banned me from participating in the competition.
At the front of the line stood Nol, the oldest in the competition and the favorite of the crowd. He cast a glance my way, but didn’t look long. I exhaled as he turned his head away.
One by one, the boys threw their spears. They were still learning, and few were good yet. The aim of a fisherman was impeccable, once he’d mastered the art, but these were just boys.
I swallowed as the boy beside me took his turn, and then it was mine. I stepped forward and hefted my spear. The weight was familiar in my hand. I inhaled, squinted at the target, and threw.
The spear buried itself at the edge of the middle circle. A few of the boys cried out in appreciation. Sweat broke out across my back.
I hadn’t meant to throw quite so well.
Nol turned his head again to look at me. He wasn’t stupid, even if he was infuriating. 
He’d seen Kit throw before.
I held my breath, and he looked away.
Those who had struck the target gathered their spears and tried again. There were only a few of us, and the number rapidly dwindled. I threw poorly, but my spear seemed to swerve to meet the target against my will, and the rest of the boys threw with the skill of drunken monkeys. Finally, only Nol and I were left.
My heart drummed in my chest. I didn’t dare look at Nol or the crowd.
“You’ve improved, Kit,” Nol said as he passed me to retrieve his spear.
It was clear by the way he strode toward the target that he thought victory was assured for him. He barely spared me a glance as he drew back his arm to throw.
The crowd waited, breathless.
Nol threw first. His spear struck the inner circle of the target, and he straightened, pleased. I could tell by his posture that he thought he’d won. The necklace of shell he always wore tinkled faintly as he turned to me. He yanked off his mask, and his expression was triumphant.
“Your turn.”
I drew my arm back and took aim. I heard the rush of the sea behind me, the cry of gulls above me, and the hiss of my breath over my teeth as I threw. Sea and gulls and breath combined to make music. I shut my eyes and threw.
My spear hit the mark and quivered.
It had struck closer to the center.
The boys roared in approval and swarmed around me. Nol’s jaw tightened, and he shot a glance toward the crowd. I saw his father, the mayor, frowning.
I stepped forward to receive my prize. As I passed Nol, suspicion crossed his face. He snatched off my mask, dislodging my hood in the process.
My long hair tumbled down around my shoulders. Wind fanned my face.
I was exposed.
The crowd gasped. Nol let go of me as if he’d been burned.
“It’s Tagatha’s thrall!” someone shouted.
“You deceptive little brat,” the spear master snarled. “Where’s Kitran?”
I ran.
The spear master grabbed for me. His fingers slipped through my hair, giving one painful tug, then the strands ripped from my scalp and I ran faster. I reached the edge of the cliff, dropped Kit’s spear, and jumped.
The rock was hard beneath my feet as I leaped, and then salty air rushed around me, the gulls’ screams filled my ears, and I was falling, falling, falling through air and wind and sunlight. I brought my arms forward right before I entered the water in a perfect dive.
Bubbles exploded across my vision as I hit the water. Blue closed around me, cold and shocking, shutting out the shouts above. My chest skimmed the sandy bottom of the lagoon. 
Fish shot away, and seaweed snagged my ankles. The rocks of the bay were dark against the orange light of the dying sun.
I swam a ways from the cliff, holding my breath, kicking my legs to propel myself forward.
When my head broke the surface, I heard the spear master shouting after me. I swam away, my arms making sure, even strokes as his threats echoed across the water after me. 
I had no fear that he would jump in after me. I was one of the strongest swimmers in the village. He couldn’t catch me, and he wouldn’t try.
But I couldn’t swim forever.


We walked across a bridge enclosed with glass that stretched between the ship and the city of Celestrus. Glass and twisted metal were the only things standing between the sea and us. I looked up and saw a long, sinuous shape curl through the waters above us—some giant, unknown sea creature—and a shiver passed over my skin as I remembered the dark shape that had passed beneath our ship on the journey over.
What other things lurked in the ocean’s depths?
The first guard planted his hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward, drawing my thoughts back to the present, back to the rush of warm air from the round opening ahead, the clank of our feet against the metal floor, and Nol telling the guard exactly what he’d like to do to him if he had a sword in hand.
I kept my mouth shut, because I wasn’t stupid.
We stepped through the round doorway, entering a round room with walls and floors of polished metal. The ceiling arched above us, made of rose-colored glass and shot through with metal that I supposed held it aloft. I could see shapes moving above it, churning shadows that stamped and brushed the ceiling and bewildered me until I realized I was seeing people’s feet and garments. The ceiling above must serve as a walkway for an even higher level, I realized. I stared at the strange shadow dance until someone nudged me. The guard.
A bench ran along one wall, and a man sat on it, waiting for us. He stood when we entered.
He must have been old, but his face was astonishingly smooth, almost ageless. His skin was the color of copper. His long hair black hair, streaked with gray at the temples, hung down his back in a mass of braids, and he wore light purple robes that draped off his thin body and engulfed his wrists. He did not look unkind, which was a good sign.
The guards herded me forward.
“What is your name?” he asked me.
“Aemi,” I said.
“Ah, Aemi. Exquisite name. Means sea-born in the old tongue.”
I lifted my gaze, startled. “Yes, it does.”
He smiled, a quick quirk of his lips that transformed his face into something kindly. “And you?” he asked Nol.
Nol turned his head and would not speak. The man looked back at me.
“He’s called Nol,” I said, and I saw a muscle jump in Nol’s jaw when I spoke his name. He gave me a look of pure loathing, and I knew I had betrayed him by giving up his identity to the man when he had clearly wished to make a statement by withholding it.
“Nol, eh? Short for Nolen?”
“Just Nol,” he growled.
“I am called Merelus,” he said, seemingly unruffled by the waves of anger radiating from Nol. “I hope we can learn to respect each other, as unfavorable as this situation may be for you.”
Respect each other? His words confused me, but I bit my lips and said nothing.
“Come,” Merelus said to us, and nodded to the guards. “I’ll take you both.”
“Their wristlocks, sir,” the guard said.
“Ah, yes.” Merelus paused and waited as the guard approached us and snapped a thick band of silver over our right wrists.
“This will set off an alarm if you enter any area forbidden to Indentureds,” he informed us gruffly. “And you will be punished.”
I looked around for Myo, but he was gone. I supposed I would never see him again. He’d never bid me goodbye. Why would he? I was just a slave.
The click of the wristlock around my arm made me flinch. Merelus watched my face, and his eyebrows drew together as if he were seeing more than I intended him to. I turned my head away and met Nol’s eyes. They smoldered with fury as he submitted to having the wristlock placed on him.
“Well,” Merelus said when it was done. “That’s over. Let’s go, shall we?” He indicated the door.
My mouth fell open as we stepped through it.
Arching ceilings soared overhead, joining in a web of patterned glass held in place by golden metal beams that swirled and formed fantastic shapes. The floors were gleaming stone set in curling patterns beneath our feet. Doorways and corridors branched off from the main thoroughfare, opening onto other plazas and rooms filled with fountains and statues.
Far ahead of us, six corridors converged on a round plaza with a sculpture of a dolphin in the center. Blinding light poured over the dolphin from a ceiling that glowed with light like a captured sun.
I glanced at Nol. He stared ahead, his mouth pressed in a rigid line. His hands were white and clenched at his sides. He refused to seem impressed.
But I saw no reason to hide my amazement. I gaped at everything.
“You have never been to Celestrus before,” Merelus observed, watching my reaction.
“No.” I remembered Myo’s warnings and said nothing else of my past.
“The Jeweled City,” he said, smiling. “Seat of learning and the arts. The most beautiful place in all of Itlantis. Exquisite, if I may say so.”
I believed it.
Men and women filled the corridors and corresponding plazas that connected them. 
Most wore flowing tunics or robes over the one-piece jumpsuits, or simply the jumpsuits. A few were dressed in other garments—trousers, dresses. The blend of fashions bewildered me. The people had varying appearances too—some with skin as brown as polished driftwood, others as pale as sand. Most had long, straight black or brown hair, and large eyes that came in vivid blues, greens, and browns. Nol’s pale hair stood out and drew him a few looks of interest and curiosity.
We crossed a bridge of shining metal and glass and into a round-roofed chamber large enough to fit the Village of the Rocks inside in its entirety. A vast floor stretched before us, and the ceiling was ribbed with metal supports and set with colored glass. Through the glass, I caught glimpses of the ocean, vast and dark and rippling with fish.
“The commons,” Merelus said, gesturing to the space before us.
This place was anything but common.
We passed through this glorious space and reached another. They were like a string of bubbles, one after the other. This chamber had dozens of doors set into the walls, and staircases going down into the floor and up toward the roof. I craned my neck to see around us. Balconies spiraled around the domed roof as far as I could see.
Merelus stopped before a door of bronzed metal and touched the handle.
“Welcome home,” he said.
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giovedì 27 febbraio 2014

WWW..Wednesdays (69)

Buongiorno! Questa settimana sono stata poco presente sul blog, devo ancora abituarmi ai nuovi orari delle lezioni e ieri ho partecipato alla laurea di una carissima amica che si è prolungata per tutto il pomeriggio; riprendiamo dunque con l'appuntamento settimanale della rubrica WWW..Wednesdays :)

Come funziona questa rubrica? Semplicemente rispondendo a queste 3 domande:
What are you currently reading? (Cosa stai leggendo?)
What did you recently finish reading? (Quale libro hai finito di recente?)
What do you think you’ll read next? (Quale libro sarà la tua prossima lettura?)
What are you currently reading?

Harry Potter e l'Ordine della Fenice (Harry Potter, #5)Sto leggendo Harry Potter e l'Ordine della Fenice, ho letto giusto le prime cento pagine e già noto un cambiamento nell'atmosfera rispetto ai primi quattro libri.

 What did you recently finish reading?

Harry Potter e il Calice di Fuoco (Harry Potter, #4)Ho letto Harry Potter e il Calice di Fuoco; fino ad ora è il mio preferito considerando anche i film.

What do you think you’ll read next?

Harry Potter e il Principe Mezzosangue (Harry Potter, #6)Ovviamente leggerò Harry Potter e il Principe Mezzosangue; non so se leggere tutta la serie in un colpo solo sia la scelta migliore, comunque ormai sono quasi alla fine quindi mantengo la mia decisione :)

Bene, queste sono le mie risposte della settimana; quali sono le vostre? :)

venerdì 21 febbraio 2014

Book Blitz: Resistance di Jena Leigh + giveaway

Buongiorno ^^ Eccoci ad un nuovo book blitz, ideato come sempre da Giselle di Xpresso Book Tours; oggi vi presento il secondo volume di una serie young adult paranormal, spero possa piacervi :) Non perdete il ricco giveaway alla fine del post ;)

Titolo: Resistance
Autore: Jena Leigh
Genere: Young Adult paranormal
Trama: Alexandra Parker might be the most powerful Variant the world has ever seen—but even that won’t get her out of finishing her junior year of high school.
The challenge of keeping her abilities under wraps during class is daunting enough, but throw one surly, sandy-haired Jumper into the mix, and things can get downright complicated.
Declan’s new job? Watch over Alex while she’s at school and do everything in his power to keep her from losing control. But as sparks of every kind begin flying between Alex and her new bodyguard, she's left feeling more unstable than ever.
When avoiding her abilities results in a surprise visit from her parents’ killer, Alex’s worlds collide with a bang that nearly levels Bay View High.
With her freedom now squarely in the Agency’s crosshairs, Alex will be faced with the fight of her life... and a decision that could forever alter the course of her destiny.

Jena Leigh is the author of the Variant Series novels REVIVAL and RESISTANCE. Born and raised in Tampa, Florida, she spent ten years in the mountains of North Carolina before returning home to the lightning capital of North America. A shameless geek, she loves coffee, loud music, bad sci-fi movies, Skittles, and shenanigan-filled road trips to faraway concerts. 



Kenzie drummed her fingers idly on the top of her desk. Slouched in her seat, she stared unblinking at the black hands of the clock mounted to the wall above the whiteboard. All around the room, students waited in small groups for the bell to release them and their weekend to begin.
Three minutes until the final bell.
Three minutes, and she’d be free.
Three minutes, thought Kenzie, and I’ll be on my way toward my next coffee fix.
That bell really needed to hurry itself up.
She had places to be.
Kenzie sighed. The longer she went without a fix, the harder it was to silence the thoughts emanating from the sea of humanity around her.
Caffeine meant focus.
Focus meant an easier time of keeping the walls up and the voices out.
She wondered, briefly, what telepaths did before the discovery of caffeinated beverages. The thought made her shudder. Control without stimulants in the bloodstream was possible, of course. But it was far from a pleasant way to go. 
Especially in populated areas.
Kenzie jolted upright, the sudden movement causing her desk to bang into the back of the seat in front of her. 
Something had just slammed into her mental walls with enough force to send a stab of pain through her temple.
What the crap was that?
Around the room, the steady flow of conversation dried up. 
It wasn’t just Kenzie. That pulse had hit everyone.
Even the norms.
Kenzie got slowly to her feet.
A funny thing happens when norms experience Variant abilities firsthand. 
Instead of seeing the supernatural for what it is, nine times out of ten, they will translate their experience into something that better fits the rules of their reality.
The brilliant light of a jumper’s teleport becomes a camera flash, the telekinetic movement of objects through the air gets blamed on a strong gust of wind, and mental assaults are automatically translated into something external.
“Did you hear that?” asked a freckle-faced blonde from across the aisle. 
“Sounded like a sonic boom, or something.”
“Yeah! I heard it, too!” said another. “Wonder what it was?”
She supposed the better question was not what was it, but who was it?
The wave came again, this time with twice the strength behind it. Kenzie grabbed for the back of her seat to keep from losing her balance.
The wave wasn’t a thought, it was a distilled emotion. Someone, somewhere, was absolutely terrified.
Judging from the nervous expressions on the faces of the students around her, that fear was not only being broadcast to the rest of the school, it was also creeping its way into their subconscious.
Kenzie sifted through the residue of the psychic onslaught in an attempt to identify the source. 
The second she caught a glimpse of that all too familiar thought signature, she cursed—loudly, to the surprise of the students standing stock-still beside her—before sprinting toward the door.
Halfway down the locker-lined hall the ground began to shudder, the floor practically roiling beneath her feet. 
Earthquake? she wondered.
But this was Florida. Florida didn’t have earthquakes.
Declan appeared at the other end of the hall, running in her direction. 
“Where is she?” called Kenzie.
Her brother ducked through a swinging door just ahead of her. 
The girl’s bathroom?
Kenzie followed him in. 
“Oh my god.”
Alex was on her knees in a shallow sea of water, dripping wet, her hands clutching the sides of her head.
Water flooded the room. The porcelain sinks lining the wall lay shattered and in pieces on the ground. A large, spherical indentation was blasted into the wall behind Alex and what could only be burn marks scorched onto the ceiling above.
As Kenzie watched in amazement, strands of water began swirling around her friend, encasing her in a glittering sphere of liquid before losing form and crashing back down around her. 
A shimmer of light rippled across Alex’s body, distorting her appearance like a mirage on desert sand. 
“I can’t…” Alex was sobbing. “There are too many, Declan. I can’t make them stop!”
Declan edged as close to Alex as he dared, his expression grim.
Alex finally lifted her head to look at them. 
Kenzie took an involuntary step backward. She had seen the way a jumper’s eyes changed color, the brilliant violet light causing their eyes to glow brightly in the moments before and after they teleported, but Alex’s normally gray eyes were now shifting colors with every beat of her heart. 
Alex collapsed.
The rumbling in the floor intensified, sending Declan into action. He sloshed through the water, reaching down to grip Alex under her arms. 
“Get the door,” he called over his shoulder.
Kenzie held the door for Declan as he dragged Alex into the deserted hallway.
“Take my arm,” he ordered, maintaining his hold on Alex. “Let’s go, Kenzie.”
Terrified of being this close to Alex during a meltdown, but knowing her brother would leave her behind if she didn’t act fast, Kenzie lurched forward and grabbed Declan’s upper arm.
They jumped with the sound of the final bell ringing in their ears.


Alex froze just inside the doorway.
The hallway that stretched out before her was packed with bodies, filled to capacity with students milling beside lockers and meandering toward their classes.
She took a breath and held it.
Kenzie and Cassie quickly disappeared into the crowd, leaving her behind.
Why hadn’t she walked the long way around the building? Her homeroom was three hallways and a commons area away, and the entire path would be packed until the second bell.
The sounds of conversation and laughter grew louder, surpassed in volume only by the sudden thudding of her heart as it pounded frantically against her ribcage. 
So many people… all it would take is one touch from the wrong one, she thought. One touch, and I could lose control.
Move. She needed to move.
Someone brushed past her, jostling Alex’s shoulder as they entered through the double doors behind her. 
Alex swallowed a whimper, searching frantically for an empty space in the chaos.
Hugging her arms tightly around her middle, Alex found an opening in the crowd and made her way to a narrow wall between two classroom doors, pressing her back against it and aching for an escape.
Closing her eyes, Alex fought to steady her breathing, then sucked in another ragged breath after being startled by the sound of the first bell blasting from a loudspeaker mounted to the wall above her head. 
“Never pegged you as the agoraphobic type.”
Alex opened her eyes.
A smiling face stared down at her, a few short inches from her own. 
Her first instinct was to jerk away, but a warm hand on her shoulder had pinned her firmly in place.
“Hold still, Alex,” Declan ordered. With his left hand placed protectively on one shoulder and his right hand pressed against the wall on her other side, Alex was effectively boxed in. 
“Declan, you can’t—” she began, shrugging her shoulder where he held it in place.
Declan inched his fingers farther away from her exposed collarbone and down her sleeve, but still didn’t pull away. “You’re fine,” he said. “Just breathe.”
Students filed past on both sides. Alex eyed them nervously.
“Look at me,” Declan said quietly. “Not at them.”
Alex did as she was told. Declan just shook his head, smiling.
“You know, it’s probably a good thing you can’t jump right now,” he said in an undertone. “I would not have wanted to explain to Grayson why you teleported in the middle of a crowded hallway with dozens of witnesses.”
Alex’s head swam with the sensory overload. Having Declan standing so close was only making it more difficult to pull herself together. She’d forgotten just how easily his nearness could knock her for a loop.
He was still smiling down at her as though they were just another normal couple stealing a quiet moment alone, instead of two Variants standing in the midst of a sea of humanity, while one of them tried to keep the other from falling apart entirely.
The passing students sent them a few curious glances as they walked into their classrooms, but otherwise gave them plenty of space. 
Another few minutes and the crowds began to thin.
Declan removed his hand from her shoulder and took a step backward. 
“You okay to move?” 
“I… Yes,” she said, her face flushed with embarrassment. “I am.”
Slipping past him, Alex marched off down the empty hallway. Declan’s long legs matched her stride easily. 
“You want to talk about it?” he asked as they entered the open expanse of the commons area. 
“Not particularly.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine.”
The second bell rang. 
Alex was officially late.
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