Tuesday, January 31, 2012

New Releases: January 31

Destiny and Deception (13 to Life book 4) by Shannon Delany

 The sensational fourth novel in the 13 to Life series sees Jessica and the Rusakuvas fighting to overcome one of their biggest challenges yet--the possibility of a cure for lycanthropy.   With the threat of the mafia seemingly gone and the company's headquarters in Junction destroyed, Pietr Rusakova is adjusting to being a normal teen and Jess is realizing normalcy may not be what she wanted after all. But both Jess and Cat know the truth--that normal can't be taken for granted. Their precious cure isn't permanent--and when a new danger stalks into their small town, Alexi decides he must overcome his issues with the mother who abandoned him to be raised by wolves and make a brand new deal to save his adopted family.



Article 5 by Kristin Simmons

New York, Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C., have been abandoned.

The Bill of Rights has been revoked, and replaced with the Moral Statutes.

There are no more police—instead, there are soldiers. There are no more fines for bad behavior—instead, there are arrests, trials, and maybe worse. People who get arrested usually don't come back.

Seventeen-year-old Ember Miller is old enough to remember that things weren’t always this way. Living with her rebellious single mother, it’s hard for her to forget that people weren’t always arrested for reading the wrong books or staying out after dark. It’s hard to forget that life in the United States used to be different.

Ember has perfected the art of keeping a low profile. She knows how to get the things she needs, like food stamps and hand-me-down clothes, and how to pass the random home inspections by the military. Her life is as close to peaceful as circumstances allow.

That is, until her mother is arrested for noncompliance with Article 5 of the Moral Statutes. And one of the arresting officers is none other than Chase Jennings…the only boy Ember has ever loved.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Book Releases for January 24

Bloodrose by Andrea Cremer


Calla has always welcomed war. But now that the final battle is upon her, there’s more at stake than fighting. There’s saving Ren, even if it incurs Shay’s wrath. There’s keeping Ansel safe, even if he’s been branded a traitor. There’s proving herself as the pack’s alpha, facing unnamable horrors, and ridding the world of the Keepers’ magic once and for all. And then there’s deciding what to do when the war ends. If Calla makes it out alive, that is.

In the final installment of the Nightshade trilogy, New York Times bestselling author Andrea Cremer creates a novel with twists and turns that will keep you on the edge of your seat until its final pages. A dynamic end to this breathtaking trilogy.




Everneath by Brodi Ashton

Last spring, Nikki Beckett vanished, sucked into an underworld known as the Everneath, where immortals Feed on the emotions of despairing humans. Now she's returned- to her old life, her family, her friends- before being banished back to the underworld... this time forever.

She has six months before the Everneath comes to claim her, six months for good-byes she can't find the words for, six months to find redemption, if it exists.

Nikki longs to spend these months reconnecting with her boyfriend, Jack, the one person she loves more than anything. But there's a problem: Cole, the smoldering immortal who first enticed her to the Everneath, has followed Nikki to the mortal world. And he'll do whatever it takes to bring her back- this time as his queen.

As Nikki's time grows short and her relationships begin slipping from her grasp, she's forced to make the hardest decision of her life: find a way to cheat fate and remain on the Surface with Jack or return to the Everneath and become Cole's...


Havoc by Jeff Sampson

 Emily Webb thought life would return to normal after the death of the man who attacked her and her fellow “Deviants.” Or as normal as it could be, after discovering that she has nighttime superpowers . . . and she’s a werewolf. But when Emily awakes one night to find an otherworldy Shadowman watching her, she knows the danger has only just begun.

So Emily and her pack-mates set out to find the people who made them what they are, and why. But as they get closer to the truth, they realize they aren’t the only ones in town with special powers: The most popular girls in school might just have a secret of their own–and they might just have it out for Emily.

With shadowy beings stalking them, a mysterious company doing all it can to keep the truth hidden, and the secrecy of her new identity in jeopardy, life threatens to spiral out of control for Emily. Soon these dangers will come together in one terrifying confrontation that may force her to make the toughest choice of her life . . . so far.
The Way We Fall by Megan Crewe

It starts with an itch you just can't shake. Then comes a fever and a tickle in your throat. A few days later, you'll be blabbing your secrets and chatting with strangers like they’re old friends. Three more, and the paranoid hallucinations kick in.

And then you're dead.
When a deadly virus begins to sweep through sixteen-year-old Kaelyn’s community, the government quarantines her island—no one can leave, and no one can come back.
Those still healthy must fight for dwindling supplies, or lose all chance of survival. As everything familiar comes crashing down, Kaelyn joins forces with a former rival and discovers a new love in the midst of heartbreak. When the virus starts to rob her of friends and family, she clings to the belief that there must be a way to save the people she holds dearest.
Because how will she go on if there isn't?
Megan Crewe crafts a powerful and gripping exploration of self-preservation, first love, and hope. Poignant and dizzying, this heart-wrenching story of one girl’s bravery and unbeatable spirit will leave readers fervently awaiting the next book in this standout new series.
 

Source: Goodreads

Josh Hutcherson is excited for 'Hunger Games' Premeire

Sunday, January 22, 2012

MTV Movie Brawl: Final Round

Vote for the 'Hunger Games' in the final round of the MTV Movie Brawl 2012 here. It's 'Hunger Games' vs. 'Cosmopolis' and it's a close round!
Source: Hunger Games Trilogy Fansite

Final Hunger Games Poster

The third and final Hunger Games poster has been released. Katniss takes aim as the world watches.
Source: Hunger Games Trilogy Fansite

Saturday, January 21, 2012

A Never Before Seen Scene From Hex Hall


So, since Rachel Hawkins promised that if Sophie made it past the first round in YA Sisterhood's Tournament of Heroines she would write not one, but two new scenes. A Sophie/Archer scene and a Sophie/Cal. Here's the Sophie/Archer scene:
"In Which Our Heroine Finds Herself In a Compromising Position in the Cellar. Again."

“Well, this is...awkward.”

I glared at Archer as I once again tried to yank my hand free from his. “ 'Hey, Mercer! Let's try on these enchanted rings! I'm sure putting pieces of magical jewelery on is nothing less than a totally stellar idea! After all,-'” I broke off to blow a hunk of hair out of my eyes, “it's never ended badly for anyone before!”

Now it was Archer's turn to scowl. “Okay, I would like the record to show that that was a truly terrible impression of me. And secondly-,'” he made an attempt at wiggling his fingers, but they stayed laced in mine- “you didn't have to put one on. There was no peer pressure happening here.”

Sighing, I braced my foot on one of the lower shelves and tried once again to untangle my fingers from Archer's. Our hands stayed fixed together, but Archer stumbled forward, practically falling on top of me. Flustered, I pushed him back with my other hand even as he grinned.

“You know, Mercer-”

“Shut up.”

“You don't know what I was going to say.”

“Something snarky that's also vaguely suggestive?”

Archer mulled that over for a bit. “Actually...yeah. Nice one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Awesome. Does your brain have other uses besides crafting the perfect comeback? Anything in there about these rings or how me might break the spell?”

Rubbing his chin with his free hand, Archer said, “Nothing in my brain, but maybe something on the papers?”

Ah, yes. The papers.

We were supposed to be doing inventory in the cellar, so both of us had clipboards listing all the magical junk down here. Mine was on the shelf nearest the cellar steps, while Archer's was wedged between two glass jars on a shelf a few feet away. I was pretty sure I'd seen something about rings on my clipboard, so I moved toward the steps.

Unfortunately, Archer chose the same moment to go for his clipboard in the totally opposite direction.

Our magically joined hands pulled us up short, and once again, we stumbled into each other.

As my cheek collided with Archer's surprisingly solid chest, I got a whiff of laundry detergent. It was the same soap I used to wash my uniforms- Mrs. Casnoff was big on us not using magic for menial stuff, so we all had to do laundry like regular people- but somehow, on him, it smelled....different. Better.

“Whoa,” Archer said, catching my shoulder to steady me. For a moment, his hand lingered there and our eyes met. Archer's were so brown they could look black, and right now, his gaze seemed especially dark.

Clearing my throat, I stepped back as far as our hands would let me and nodded toward my clipboard. “I think I saw something about rings on my list.”

He was still watching me. “Hmm?”

I knew my cheeks were red, and his hand felt very hot in mine as I lifted it, waving our clasped hands together. “Rings? The ones we need to get off right now?” I looked away, like I was studying the silver bands really intently as I added, “Not sure how your girlfriend would feel about us being joined together for all eternity.”

I felt a little jolt go through Archer's arm. “Elodie,” he said, like he'd just remembered she existed.

“That's her name,” I agreed. I held out my free hand. “About this tall? Red hair, gorgeous? Evil in human form?”

Archer shot me a wry look and batted down my hand. “Okay, okay. So we'll go for your list.”

Together, we walked over to the shelf and Archer held the clipboard while I flipped through pages, scanning the inventory. “Rings, rings, rings...Fangs, no. Necklaces, close but not quite...ooh, apparently there are some bracelets in here that will make you the owner's prisoner for life, so the next time you go on a jewelery trying-on kick, let's try to avoid those...aha! Wedding rings, Matthew and Isabella Foster, witch and warlock, early 17th century.”

I looked up at Archer. We were wearing wedding rings. The thought filled me with a weird mix of conflicting emotions. Embarrassment, for sure. Somehow, the fact that these rings were wedding bands made this whole thing more awkward. But I also felt kind of...giddy.

They are rings, you moron, I told myself. Cold little pieces of metal that belonged to other people and have absolutely nothing to do with you and Archer. Please to get a grip.

“What kind of freaks would wear wedding rings that permanently joined their hands?” I asked, trying one last time to free my left hand from his. “I mean, I get that marriage is a binding thing, but this is just stupid.”

But Archer had his eyes closed, frowning in concentration. “No, I read something about those two. They're famous for...something.”

“Maybe for being co-dependent freaks?”

Archer didn't open his eyes, but his lips quirked. “That's probably part of it, but...right!” He snapped his fingers. “They were the ones who first introduced the whole betrothal thing.”

All witches and warlocks were betrothed sometime in their teenage years. The person your family picked for you was usually based on things like complimentary powers, but you didn't necessarily have to go through with a betrothal. Or at least that's what I was hoping, seeing as how Archer was pretty sure I was betrothed to someone, and I wasn't all that sold on the idea of marrying a stranger.

“So these rings...,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“Weren't their wedding rings. They were used to help the Fosters make matches.”

I glanced down at our hands, still tangled up together, fingers laced. I had no idea what to say except, “Oh.”

I thought I felt Archer's grip tighten a little. “Apparently, the rings think we would be a good match.”

The words hung there in the air, joining us as surely as the little bands of silver. Finally, Archer made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Which just goes to prove that these things have clearly broken.”

I laughed, too, both out of nervousness and relief. “Right. Apparently sitting on a shelf for three hundred years screwed up their magical matching mojo.”

Archer's fingers twitched in mine as he smiled at me. “God, can you imagine? Me and you, all...,” He waved his free hand, “coupled up?”

“Totally ridiculous,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Insane,” he added, dropping his gaze to the rings. To our hands.

“The worst idea in all of Bad Idea Town.”

Archer's shoulders lifted a little, but he didn't laugh. Neither did I.

Just when I thought the silence might actually break me, Archer kind of shook himself and said, “Anyway, now that we know what they are, they should probably be pretty easy to get off.”

He raised our hands, pulling them close to his mouth. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss my hand, and I went a little dizzy. But instead, he spoke directly to the rings, his breath warm on my knuckles. “Um...hey, little guys? While we appreciate your efforts at matchmaking, this fair lady and I have no desire to be paired up. I am grateful you picked a girl who matches me in sarcasm,so nice job on that front. And I know she appreciates you finding her an incredibly hot stud such as my- ow!”

Rubbing the spot on his chest where I'd shoved him, Archer scowled at me and continued, “Anyway, Rings, thanks but no thanks. So if you could un-stick us now, that would be great.”

There was a barely audible hiss and the silver heated up. Archer's sucked in a breath through his teeth and I winced as the rings glowed hot. And then, just like that, our hands dropped free.

Archer shook his wrist while I cradled my hand to my chest, flexing my fingers.

“Well,” he said at last, flashing me a grin. “Yet another adventure to add to our long list of Weird Things That Have Happened To Us In The Cellar.”

There was a loud click from above us as The Vandy unlocked the door, signaling the end of Cellar Duty for tonight. I grabbed my clipboard with my left hand, hoping that might erase the feeling of Archer's palm still pressed against mine.

“That was the last one,” I told him as we headed up the stairs. “After that and the thing with the gloves, and that time you killed a pixie-,”

“It was already dead!” he insisted, but I ignored him.

“I am done having adventures in the cellar. The rest of the semester is going to be adventure-free.”

We were at the top of the stairs now, pausing in the doorway. Archer turned to me. He was still grinning, but there was something different in it now. Something that made my knees feel a little watery.

“Now that would be a disappointment,” he murmured.

And with that, he was gone.
Source: Rachel Hawkins

WizKids to Release 'Hunger Games' Figurines, Board Game, and Card Game

In March, WizKids will release The Hunger Games Collectible Figures Single-Figure Boosters, The Hunger Games District 12 Strategy Game, and The Hunger Games Jabberjay Card Game.
The Hunger Games Collectible Figures Single-Figure Boosters will feature 27 figurines from The Hunger Games movie. Collect every tribute, Gale, and two different versions of Katniss and Peeta!
The Hunger Games District 12 Strategy Game will highlight storyline from the movie. Players will attempt to gather food, clothing, medicine, and more in efforts to avoid The Reaping.
The Hunger Games Jabberjay Card Game is a game of secrets and deduction. Players represent a District or Capitol Citizen, each hiding their identity from their opponents. Their goal is to discover everyone else’s identity, and send them fleeing from the game. Players can also choose to work together to protect one another from the Peacekeepers.
Source: Hunger Games Trilogy Fansite

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Tiger's Curse Film Rights Purchased


Paramont Pictures has bought the film rights for Mary Parent
Deadline.com Paramont acquires Tiger's Curse

Classifieds: Day 1: Liz, Zach, and Macey

Day 1: Liz

As soon as Liz saw the empty bed, she knew something was wrong. Of course, people at the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women were used to Elizabeth Sutton’s knowing things no one else had figured out, but that morning she wasn’t recalling something she’d read in a book. Her realization wasn’t the result of years of research and experiments. Although, technically, Liz was a genius, it was her gut and not her head that made her stare at the empty pillow, the perfectly tucked covers, and say, “Oh no.” “What is it?” Bex groaned, half-asleep. “If you’re complaining ’cause you lost your lucky highlighter again, I’m gonna—”
“It’s Cammie,” Liz said, still staring at the pillow. “She’s gone.”
Bex, however, didn’t seem concerned as she rolled over and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “She probably just got up early to study.”
“Earlier than I got up?” Liz asked.
It must have been an excellent question, because Macey threw aside her covers and searched the four corners of the suite with her big blue eyes, as if Cammie were there, hiding in the shadows, ready to jump out and say boo. Liz began to shake. Her mind began to race.
There were hundreds of places that Cammie might go to be alone or think, to study or cry. Everything would be okay, Liz told herself, and took a deep breath. But it was the look she saw in Bex’s eyes that scared her. And, with that, the girls knew it was time to go to work.
COVERT OPERATIONS REPORT
At 0500 on the morning of June fourth, Operatives Sutton, Baxter, and McHenry awoke to find Operative Cameron Morgan was not in her bed and had, apparently, not returned to her room the night before. The Operatives did not, however, panic.
“Where do you think she is?”
Liz didn’t want to yell, but she couldn’t help it. She’d always been the smallest of her friends, and her voice had always been the highest. At times like that, when adrenaline mixed with fear, Liz had to lash out. She felt like a hot-air balloon, too light and inconsequential to be held down.
“You don’t think she did something stupid, do you?” Liz asked. “Because I’m starting to think she might have done something stupid.”
“Cam’s got to be here,” Bex said. She was pulling on her uniform, scanning the floor for her shoes. “She’s here somewhere. She couldn’t have gotten far.”
“Unless she has a jet.” Liz stopped cold. “Do you think Cam has a jet?”
Macey shook her head, no, but Bex just plowed through the door and said, “I think she has a death wish.”
PLACES WHERE THE OPERATIVES LOOKED FOR CAMMIE MORGAN:
  • The P&E barn
  • Dr. Fibs’s lab
  • Madame Dabney’s tearoom (because Operative Morgan has been known to stress-eat the chocolates Madame Dabney keeps stashed in the credenza)

“What about Zach?” Macey said three hours later. “Shouldn’t we ask him if he’s seen her? Maybe they’re just off somewhere together. Maybe she’s not… gone.”
She kept her voice low because the halls weren’t empty anymore. The sun was up, and light streaked through the windows while girls darted down to the labs or outside for a pre-test run to clear their heads. It was finals’ week at the Gallagher Academy, and the whole school was awake and alive and looking for answers.
Unfortunately, not everyone was finding them.
“That’s true,” Liz said, hopeful. “Maybe she’s just with Zach.”
Bex asked the scariest question of all: “What if she isn’t.”
“Still,” Liz said, “we should ask him.”
She didn’t see the dark shadow that stood in the doorway, broad shoulders looming over them, saying, “Ask me what?”
Day 1: Zach
Bex and Macey and Liz were staring at him, speechless. If there was one thing Zach had learned from his time at the Gallagher Academy it was that jabbering, talking girls are normal. Quiet, staring girls are not. And where Gallagher Girls are concerned, abnormal is almost never good.
“Maybe we weren’t talking about you,” Liz said with a shrug that told him she was trying to lie, to flirt a little, in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice. It was something she’d probably seen Macey do, he thought, but on Liz it didn’t quite work.
“I’m the Gallagher Academy’s only male student,” Zach said. “That means, considering faculty and staff, the chances you are talking about me are about… ” He let his voice trail off and looked at Liz.
“One in nine.”
Liz and statistics did work, Zach thought and smiled.
“So,” he said slowly, “like I was saying, ask me what?”
But the three girls didn’t respond, and Zach suddenly realized the only thing that could possibly scare him more than their silence.
“Where’s Cammie?” he said.
“Studying,” Liz blurted at the same time Bex said, “P&E barn.”
“She’s studying P&E,” Liz hurried to add. “In fact, Bex and I were just about to go—”
But Zach wasn’t listening anymore. Liz was the smartest. Bex was the strongest. But Macey was the one who would never hesitate to do the uncomfortable thing, so she was the one he turned to.
“Where is she?”
“Zach,” Liz said, “we told you she’s—”
“We don’t know,” Macey said.
“Macey,” Liz hissed, but Macey talked on.
“She wasn’t in the suite when we got up. We’ve been looking for her since five, but no sign so far.”
Macey kept talking. Zach saw her lips move. He was sure she was going through all the places they’d been that morning, all the rooms and passageways they were about to check. But the words didn’t matter, so he didn’t hear them. There was no reason to listen to their theories when he already knew the truth.
In spite of all his training, he barely had the strength to stand. He leaned against the wall. “She’s gone.”
“Come on, this is Cammie we’re talking about,” Liz said. “You know how she is. I’m sure she’s just off someplace, thinking. There’s no way to know for sure that she’s gone gone.”
“I know,” Zach said, then turned and started through the halls.
“Hey!” a girl he didn’t know yelled when he pushed past her. She was so small, so fragile. A part of him knew he was supposed to stop and apologize and make it right, but he didn’t even slow down.
He felt too big and awkward and strong, and he knew he didn’t belong among the Gallagher Academy’s fine and precious things.
He didn’t belong anywhere.
The tie they made him wear was too tight around his neck. He clawed at it, but he couldn’t stop running. He could do nothing but go faster through the halls that were more crowded by the second, pushing up the stairs toward Cammie’s mother’s office, knowing exactly what he had to do.
Find a superior.
Report the breach.
Face the music.
“Zach!” Macey yelled behind him, but only Bex could keep up.
“Zach,” she said, and grabbed his arm, spun him around to face her.
“Let me go, Bex.”
“Zach, just tell me what’s going on,” Bex tried. “Just—”
“Guys.” Liz’s voice was too high. She sounded terrified as her pale finger pointed to the tidy stack of papers resting on top of the case with Gillian Gallagher’s sword. “What’s that?”
Day 1: Macey

The case that held the sword was electrified. Macey knew that much. Every Gallagher Girl knew that much. It wasn’t something that was supposed to be messed with, bothered. That was where they kept the sword that Gillian Gallagher had used to kill an assassin a hundred and fifty years before, but right then, Macey couldn’t shake the feeling that the sword wasn’t nearly as dangerous as the pages that lay on top of its case.
“It’s Cam’s report. Why would she leave this here?” Liz asked in her she’s so silly tone. “I should take it back to the room. She’s going to need this. She has to—”
“Liz,” Bex said, reaching for her.
“Cam’s going to need to finish her report, Bex,” Liz talked on in the manner of someone who doesn’t want to listen. Of all the things that Liz was good at, Macey knew, denial was possibly what she did best.
What Macey did best was take action.
Before anyone could stop her, she pulled the papers from the top of the case and ripped off the rubber bands that bound them.
“She’s gone,” Macey said. Her gaze never moved from the words at the bottom of the very last page. “She left last night to find answers.”
In the next instant, the pages were gone—out of her hands and into Bex’s. Macey watched Bex and Liz scan the final pages, memorize Cammie’s last words. But Macey was having trouble breathing. She wasn’t afraid, she realized. She was furious.
And she wasn’t the only one.
“What does Cam mean when she says Zach was right?” Bex asked, pointing to the words Cammie had written and turning to look at the boy beside her. His hands were clenched into fists as he stood silently, shaking. But he didn’t move to touch the pages.
“Well, Zach,” Bex asked again, “what does she mean?”
To a lot of people, Zach Goode probably seemed fearless. Having a mother who’s an international terrorist-slash-psychopath will do that to a boy. He had mastered the tough guy facade long before he and the boys of Blackthorne ever strolled through the doors of the Gallagher Academy. But Macey had always known better. Probably because Macey had always known boys.
But when Bex moved toward him that morning, he seemed more fragile and damaged than usual.
“Well, Zach, what does she mean?” Bex yelled.
“I saw her—a few days ago. And we talked. I told her that she and I are the only people the Circle would hesitate to kill.” He took a deep breath. Sadness filled his eyes. “I told her that maybe we should run away together.”
“You told her to run away!” Bex yelled.
“I told her we could keep each other safe,” Zach tried to explain. “I never said she should take off on her own.”
“Of course she was going to take off on her own!” Bex lashed back. “This is Cammie we’re talking about. Anyone who knows her would know—”
“Stop it!” Macey snapped. “Just stop it! Both of you.”
“I know Cammie,” Zach said, his voice low and even.
“No.” Bex shook her head. “You don’t.” Then she whirled around and started for the headmistress’s office.
Source: Gallagher Academy

Hunger Games Still: The Opening Ceremonies

Katniss, Peeta, and Cinna just before the Opening Ceremonies
Source: Hunger Games Trilogy Fansite

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

New Releases: January 17 and 19

January 17
Fracture by Megan Miranda

Eleven minutes passed before Delaney Maxwell was pulled from the icy waters of a Maine lake by her best friend Decker Phillips. By then her heart had stopped beating. Her brain had stopped working. She was dead. And yet she somehow defied medical precedent to come back seemingly fine

—despite the scans that showed significant brain damage. Everyone wants Delaney to be all right, but she knows she's far from normal. Pulled by strange sensations she can't control or explain, Delaney finds herself drawn to the dying. Is her altered brain now predicting death, or causing it?

Then Delaney meets Troy Varga, who recently emerged from a coma with similar abilities. At first she's reassured to find someone who understands the strangeness of her new existence, but Delaney soon discovers that Troy's motives aren't quite what she thought. Is their gift a miracle, a freak of nature-or something much more frightening?

For fans of best-sellers like Before I Fall and If I Stay, this is a fascinating and heart-rending story about love and friendship and the fine line between life and death.

 Hallowed (Unearthly book 2) by Cynthia Hand

 For months part-angel Clara Gardner trained to face the raging forest fire from her visions and rescue the alluring and mysterious Christian Prescott from the blaze. But nothing could prepare her for the fateful decisions she would be forced to make that day, or the startling revelation that her purpose—the task she was put on earth to accomplish—is not as straightforward as she thought.
Now, torn between her increasingly complicated feelings for Christian and her love for her boyfriend, Tucker, Clara struggles to make sense of what she was supposed to do the day of the fire. And, as she is drawn further into the world of part angels and the growing conflict between White Wings and Black Wings, Clara learns of the terrifying new reality that she must face: Someone close to her will die in a matter of months. With her future uncertain, the only thing Clara knows for sure is that the fire was just the beginning.
Described by Richelle Mead as “utterly captivating,” Unearthly received outstanding reviews, garnered accolades from New York Times bestselling authors, and was named an Indie Next Pick. In this heart-wrenching sequel, Cynthia Hand expertly captures the all-consuming joy of first love—and the agony of loss. This beautifully woven tale will appeal to fans of Lauren Kate, Becca Fitzpatrick, and Aprilynne Pike.



Lovetorn by Kavita Daswani

When Shalini’s father gets a new job in L.A., she is torn away from her life in India and the boy to whom she’s been betrothed since she was three. L.A. is so different, and Shalini dresses and talks all wrong. She isn’t sure she’ll survive high school in America without her fiancĂ©, Vikram, and now she has to cope with her mom’s homesickness and depression. A new friend, chill and confident Renuka, helps Shalini find her way and get up the courage to join the Food4Life club at school. But she gets more than just a friend when she meets Toby—she gets a major crush. Shalini thinks she loves Vikram, but he never made her feel like this.
In Lovetorn, Shalini discovers that your heart ultimately makes its own choices, even when it seems as if your destiny has already been chosen.

Author Kavita Daswani has always been fascinated by child marriages and betrothals, and this story of a traditional girl from India, who is exposed to so many more freedoms and experiences after being dropped in a completely alien culture, is a fresh and contemporary look at the subject.

Never Eighteen by Megan Bostic


Austin Parker is on a journey to bring truth, beauty, and meaning to his life.
Austin Parker is never going to see his eighteenth birthday. At the rate he’s going, he probably won’t even see the end of the year. The doctors say his chances of surviving are slim to none even with treatment, so he’s decided it’s time to let go.
But before he goes, Austin wants to mend the broken fences in his life. So with the help of his best friend, Kaylee, Austin visits every person in his life who touched him in a special way. He journeys to places he’s loved and those he’s never seen. And what starts as a way to say goodbye turns into a personal journey that brings love, acceptance, and meaning to Austin’s life.

January 19
Truth (XVI book 2) by Julia Karr

Nina Oberon’s life has changed enormously in the last few months. When her mother was killed, Nina discovered the truth about her father, the leader of the Resistance. And now she sports the same Governing Council–ordered tattoo of XVI on her wrist that all sixteen-year-old girls have. The one that announces to the world that she is easy prey to predators. But Nina won’t be anyone’s stereotype. And when she joins an organization of girls working within the Resistance, she knows that they can put an end to one of the most terrifying secret programs the GC has ever conceived. Because the truth always comes out...and the consequences can be deadly.
Source: Goodreads

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Hunger Games: A New Still and a Quiz

There's a new still of Effie (Elizabeth Banks), Haymitch (Woody Harrelson), and Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence)
Also, Seventeen has some Hunger Games quizzes:
"How Would You Survive the 'Hunger Games'" Quiz
"Which 'Hunger Games' District do You Belong In" Quiz
"Who is Your 'Hunger Games' Friend Match?" Quiz
Source: Hunger Games Trilogy Fansite, Seventeen

The Challenge: Month One

 Start reading and posting :) This month's incentives: two winners will receive a Rachel Vincent book of their choice, one winner will win a signed copy of My Soul to Keep, four winners will receive the Kindle ebook Never to Sleep, and two winner will receive the Kindle ebook Reaper or My Soul to Lose.
SSRC Month One: My Soul to Take

Source: Fiktshun blog

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Join the Challenge

 Read (or re-read) The Soul Screamers by Rachel Vincent and you have a 1 in 10 chance of winning an advance copy of Before I Wake. :) Soul Screamers Reading Challenge

 Source: Fiktshun blog

Sunday, January 8, 2012

City of Lost Souls Excerpt


Magnus and Izzy Mid-book
“Alec isn’t happy,” said Magnus, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Of course he isn’t,” Isabelle snapped. “Jace —”
“Jace,” said Magnus, and his hands made fists at his sides. Isabelle stared at him. She had always thought that he didn’t mind Jace; liked him, even, once the question of Alec’s affections had been settled. Out loud, she said:
“I thought you were friends.”
“It’s not that,” said Magnus. “There are some people — people the universe seems to have singled out for special destinies. Special favors and special torments. God knows we’re all drawn toward what’s beautiful and broken; I have been, but some people cannot be fixed. Or if they can be, it’s only by love and sacrifice so great it destroys the giver.”
Isabelle shook her head slowly. “You’ve lost me. Jace is our brother, but for Alec — he’s Jace’s parabatai too —”
“I know about parabatai,” said Magnus, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ve known parabatai so close they were almost the same person; do you know what happens, when one of them dies, to the one that’s left —”
“Stop it!” Isabelle clapped her hands over her ears, then lowered them slowly. "How dare you, Magnus Bane,” she said. “How dare you make this worse than it is —”
“Isabelle.” Magnus’ hands loosened; he looked a little wide-eyed, as if his outburst had startled even him. “I am sorry. I forget, sometimes . . . that with all your self-control and strength, you possess the same vulnerability that Alec does.”
“There is nothing weak about Alec,” said Isabelle.
“No,” said Magnus. “To love as you choose, that takes strength. The thing is, I wanted you here for him. There are things I can’t do for him, can’t give him . . .” For a moment Magnus looked oddly vulnerable. “You have known Jace as long as he has. You can give him understanding I can’t. And he loves you.”
“Of course he loves me. I’m his sister.”
“Blood isn’t love,” said Magnus, and his voice was bitter. “Just ask Clary.”
 Source: Cassandra Clare livejournal

Out of Sight Out of Time by Ally Carter Excerpts


March 13 :) Read the first chapter here.
And here is another excerpt from GG5:

There are fourteen routes a person can take from the library to the suite where I’ve lived since my first day of seventh grade.  I knew which one was fastest, which was busiest, which one had the most awesome views and the route that was most likely to make a girl freeze to death in winter.
But that night I didn’t settle for any of those.  No, that night I went straight for the part of the mansion that no one but the teachers ever used.  The halls were long and narrow and empty, nothing but faculty living quarters and the occasional bookcase to mark the way.
It was easy to feel like I was the only person in the mansion (which was totally what I was going for) right up until the point when I heard a voice say, “Cammie?”
Zach was there.  Zach was there wearing nothing but a towel, but the being there part was far more concerning than the towel part to tell you the truth (the towel part brought up a whole different set of issues.)  Because something in the way he was looking at me told me that I had completely and totally failed in my attempt to hide.
I didn’t know which was more frustrating, his penchant for showing up at utterly embarrassing portions of my life or the looks he gave me when he did-- like he knew more, saw more, understood better than anyone else on earth and right then I kind of hated him for it.
Source: Ally Carter.com

Before I Wake by Rachel Vincent Cover Reveal

 June 26. Can't wait!!

Source: Harlequin Teen Facebook

Greenhouse scene in CoB from Jace's point of view


Clary won the Tournament of Heroines on YA Sisterhood blog, and Cassandra promised this if Clary won. :)

I kissed your lips and broke your heart
The Institute’s bell begins to toll, the deep loud heartbeat of the apex of the night.
Jace sets his knife down. It’s a neat little pocketknife, bone-handled, that Alec gave him when they became parabatai. He’s used it constantly and the grip is worn smooth from the pressure of his fingers.
“Midnight,” he says. He can feel Clary beside him, sitting back amongst the remains of their picnic, her breathing soft in the cool, leaf-smelling air of the greenhouse. He doesn’t look at her, but straight ahead, at the shining closed buds of the medianox plant. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look at her. He remembers the first time he saw the flower bloom, during horticulture class, sitting on a stone bench with Alec and Izzy on either side of him, and Hodge’s fingers on the stem of the blossom — he had woken them up at nearly midnight to show them the marvel, a plant that normally grew only in Idris — and remembered his breath catching in the wintery midnight air, at the sight of something so surprising and so beautiful.
Alec and Isabelle at been interested but not, he remembers, caught by the beauty of it as he had been. He was worried even now, as the bells rang on, that Clary would be the same: interested or even pleased, but not enchanted. He wanted her to feel the way he had about the medianox, though he could not have said why.
A sound escapes her lips, a soft “Oh!” The flower is blooming: opening like the birth of a star, all shimmering pollen and white-gold petals. “Do they bloom every night?”
A wave of relief goes through him. Her green eyes are shining, fixed on it. She is flexing her fingers unconsciously, the way he has come to understand she does when she is wishing she had a pen or pencils to capture the image of something in front of her. Sometimes he wishes he could see as she did: see the world as a canvas to be captured in paint, chalks and watercolors. Sometimes when she looks at him that way he finds himself almost blushing; a feeling so strange he almost doesn’t recognize it. Jace Wayland doesn’t blush.
“Happy birthday, Clarissa Fray,” he says, and her mouth curves into a smile. “I have something for you.” He fumbles, a little, reaching into his pocket, though he doesn’t think she notices. When he presses the witchlight runestone into her hand, he is conscious of how small her fingers are under his — delicate but strong, callused from hours of holding pencils and paintbrushes. The calluses tickle his fingertips. He wonders if contact with his skin speeds her pulse the way his does when he touches hers.
Apparently not, because she draws away from him, her expression showing only curiosity. “You know, when most girls say they want a big rock, they don’t mean, you know, literally a big rock.”
He smiles without meaning to. Which is unusual in and of itself; usually only Alec or Isabelle can startle laughter out of him. He had known Clary was brave the first time he’d met her — walking into that room after Isabelle, unarmed and unprepared, took the kind of guts he didn’t associate with mundanes — but the fact that she made him laugh still surprised him. “Very amusing, my sarcastic friend. It’s not a rock, precisely. All Shadowhunters have a witchlight rune-stone. It will bring you light even among the darkest shadows of this world and others.” They were the same words his father had spoken to him, upon giving him his first runestone. What other worlds? Jace had asked, and his father had only laughed. There are more worlds a breath away from this one than there are grains of sand on a beach.
She smiles at him and makes a joke about birthday presents, but he senses that she is touched; she slips the stone into her pocket carefully. The medianox flower is already shedding petals like a shower of stars, lighting her face with a soft illumination. “When I was twelve, I wanted a tattoo,” she says. A strand of red hair falls across her eyes; Jace fights the urge to reach out and push it back.
“Most Shadowhunters get their first Marks at twelve. It must have been in your blood.”
“Maybe. Although I doubt most Shadowhunters get a tattoo of Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on their left shoulder.” She is smiling, in that way she does when she says things that are totally inexplicable to him, as if she is fondly remembering. It sends a jealous twinge sparking through his veins, though he isn’t even sure what he is jealous of. Simon, who understands her references to a mundane world Jace can never be a part of? The mundane world itself that she could one day return to, leaving him and his universe of demons and hunters, scars and battle, gratefully behind?
He clears his throat. “You wanted a turtle on your shoulder?”
She nods, and her hair falls back into place. “I wanted to cover my chicken pox scar.” She draws the strap of her tank top aside. “See?”
And he sees: there is some sort of mark on her shoulder, a scar, but he sees more than that: he sees the curve of her collarbone, the light dusting freckles on her skin like a dusting of gold, the downy curve of her shoulder, the pulse at the base of her throat. He sees the shape of her mouth, her lips slightly parted. Her coppery lashes as she lowers them. And he is swept through with a wave of desire, a kind he has never experienced before. He’s desired girls before, certainly, and satisfied that desire: he had always thought of it as hunger, a need for a sort of fuel that the body wanted.
He has never felt desire like this, a clean fire that burned away thought, that made his hands — not tremble, exactly, but thrum with nervous energy. He tears his eyes away from her, hastily. “It’s getting late,” he says. “We should go back downstairs.”
She looks at him, curiously, and he cannot help the feeling that those green eyes can see through him. “Have you and Isabelle ever dated?” she asks.
His heart is still pounding. He doesn’t quite understand the question. “Isabelle?” he echoes. Isabelle? What did Isabelle have to do with anything?
“Simon was wondering,” she says, and he hates the way she says Simon’s name. He has never felt anything like this before: anything that unnerved him like she does. He remembers coming to her in that alleyway behind the coffee shop, the way he had wanted to draw her outside, away from the dark-haired boy she was always with, into his world of shadows. He had felt even then that she belonged where he did, not to the mundane world where people weren’t real, where they passed just beyond his vision like puppets on a stage. But this girl, with her green eyes that pinned him like a butterfly, she was real. Like a voice heard in a dream, that you know comes from the waking world, she was real, piercing the distance he has set so carefully about himself like armor.
“The answer is no. I mean, there may have been a time when one or the other of us considered it, but she’s almost a sister to me. It would be strange.”
“You mean Isabelle and you never—”
“Never.”
“She hates me,” says Clary.
Despite everything, Jace almost laughs; like a brother might, he takes a certain delight in observing Izzy when she’s frustrated. “You just make her nervous, because she’s always been the only girl in a crowd of adoring boys, and now she isn’t anymore.”
“But she’s so beautiful.”
“So are you,” Jace says, automatically, and sees Clary’s expression change. He cannot read her face. It is hardly as if he has never told a girl she’s beautiful before, but he can’t remember a time it wasn’t calculated. That it was accidental. That it made him feel like going to the training room and throwing knives, and kicking and punching and fighting shadows until he was bloody and exhausted and if his skin was flayed open, it was only in the way he was used to.
She just looks at him, quietly. The training room it is, then.
“We should probably go downstairs,” he says again.
“All right.” He can’t tell what she’s thinking from her voice, either; his ability to read people seems to have deserted him and he doesn’t understand why. Moonlight spears down through the glass panes of the greenhouse as they make their way out, Clary slightly in front of him. Something moves ahead of them — a white spark of light — and suddenly she stops short and half-turns to him, already in the circle of his arm, and she is warm and soft and delicate and he is kissing her.
And he is astonished. He doesn’t work like this; his body doesn’t do things without his permission. It is his instrument as much as the piano, and he has always been in perfect command of it. But she tastes sweet, like apples and copper, and her body in his arms is trembling. She is so small; his arms go around her, to steady her, and he is lost. He understands now why kisses in movies are filmed the way they are, with the camera endlessly circling, circling: the ground is unsteady under his feet and he clings to her, small as she is, as if she could hold him up.
His palms smooth down her back. He can feel her breathing against him; a gasp in between kisses. Her thin fingers are in his hair, on the back of his neck, tangling gently, and he remembers the medianox flower and the first time he saw it and thought: here is something too beautiful to properly belong in this world.
The rush of wind is audible to him first, trained as he is to hear it. He draws back from Clary and sees Hugo, perched in the crook of a nearby dwarf cypress. His arms are still around Clary, her weight light against him. Her eyes are half-closed. “Don’t panic, but we’ve got an audience,” he whispers to her. “If Hugo’s here, Hodge won’t be far behind. We should go.”
Her green eyes flutter all the way open, and she looks amused. It pricks his ego slightly. After that kiss, shouldn’t she be fainting at his feet? But she’s grinning. She wants to know if Hodge is spying on them. He reassures her, but he feels her soft laughter travel through their joined hands — how did that happen? — as they make their way downstairs.
And he understands. He understands why people hold hands: he’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying This is mine. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.
He wants her in his bedroom. And not in that way — no girl has ever been in his bedroom that way. It is his private space, his sanctuary. But he wants Clary there. He wants her to see him, the reality of him, not the image he shows the world. He wants to lie down on the bed with her and have her curl into him. He wants to hold her as she breathes softly through the night; to see her as no one else sees her: vulnerable and asleep. To see her and to be seen.
So when they reach her door, and she thanks him for the birthday picnic, he still doesn’t let go of her hand. “Are you going to sleep?”
She tilts her head up and he can see that her mouth bears the imprint of his kisses: a flush of pink, like the carnations in the greenhouse, and it knots his stomach. By the Angel, he thinks, I am so…
“Aren’t you tired?” she asks, breaking into his thoughts.
There is a hollow in the pit of his stomach, a nervous edginess. He wants to pull her back to himself, to pour into her everything he is feeling: his admiration, his new-born knowledge, his devotion, his need. “I’ve never been more awake.”
She lifts her chin, a quick unconscious movement, and he leans down, cupping her face with her free hand. He doesn’t mean to kiss her here — too public, too easy to be interrupted — but he can’t stop touching his mouth to hers lightly. Her lips part under his and he leans into her and he can’t stop. I am so —
It was at precisely that moment that Simon threw open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. And Clary pulls away from him hastily, turning her head aside, and he feels it with the sharp pain of a bandage ripped off his skin.
I am so screwed.
Source: Cassandra Clare.com, YA Sisterhood

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Cassandra Clare CoLS Cover Reveal and Prologue

 I LOVE the cover. It's so pretty. Can't wait till May 8! And the prologue is awesome!
Simon stood and stared numbly at the front door of his house.
He'd never known another home. This was the place his parents had brought him home to when he was born. He had grown up within the walls of the Brooklyn row house. He'd played on the street under the leafy shade of the trees in the summer, and had made improvised sleds out of garbage can lids in the winter. In this house his whole family had sat shivah after his father had died. Here he had kissed Clary for the first time.
He had never imagined a day when the door of the house would be closed to him. The last time he had seen his mother, she had called him a monster and prayed at him that he would go away. He had made her forget that he was a vampire, using glamour, but he had not known how long the glamour would last. As he stood in the cold autumn air, staring in front of him, he knew it had not lasted long enough.
The door was covered with signs—Stars of David splashed on in paint, the incised shape of the symbol for Chai, life. Tefillin were bound to the doorknob and knocker. A hamesh, the Hand of God, covered the peephole.
Numbly he put his hand to the metal mezuzah affixed to the right side of the doorway. He saw the smoke rise from the place where his hand touched the holy object, but he felt nothing. No pain. Only a terrible empty blankness, rising slowly into a cold rage.
He kicked the bottom of the door and heard the echo through the house. "Mom!" he shouted. "Mom, it's me!"
There was no reply—only the sound of the bolts being turned on the door. His sensitized hearing had recognized his mother's footsteps, her breathing, but she said nothing. He could smell acrid fear and panic even through the wood. "Mom!" His voice broke. "Mom, this is ridiculous! Let me in! It's me, Simon!"
The door juddered, as if she had kicked it. "Go away!" Her voice was rough, unrecognizable with terror. "Murderer!"
"I don't kill people." Simon leaned his head against the door. He knew he could probably kick it down, but what would be the point? "I told you. I drink animal blood."
He heard her whisper, softly, several words in Hebrew. "You killed my son," she said. "You killed him and put a monster in his place."
"I am your son—"
"You wear his face and speak with his voice, but you are not him! You're not Simon!" Her voice rose to almost a scream. "Get away from my house before I kill you, monster!"
"Becky," he said. His face was wet; he put his hands up to touch it, and they came away stained: His tears were bloody. "What have you told Becky?"
"Stay away from your sister." Simon heard a clattering from inside the house, as if something had been knocked over.
"Mom," he said again, but this time his voice wouldn't rise. It came out as a hoarse whisper. His hand had begun to throb. "I need to know—is Becky there? Mom, open the door. Please—"
"Stay away from Becky!" She was backing away from the door; he could hear it. Then came the unmistakeable squeal of the kitchen door swinging open, the creak of the linoleum as she walked on it. The sound of a drawer being opened. Suddenly he imagined his mother grabbing for one of the knives.
Before I kill you, monster.
The thought rocked him back on his heels. If she struck out at him, the Mark would rise. It would destroy her as it had destroyed Lilith.
He dropped his hand and backed up slowly, stumbling down the steps and across the sidewalk, fetching up against the trunk of one of the big trees that shaded the block. He stood where he was, staring at the front door of his house, marked and disfigured with the symbols of his mother's hate for him.
No, he reminded himself. She didn't hate him. She thought he was dead. What she hated was something that didn't exist. I am not what she says I am.
He didn't know how long he would have stood there, staring, if his phone hadn't begun to ring, vibrating his coat pocket.
He reached for it reflexively, noticing that the pattern from the front of the mezuzah—interlocked Stars of David—was burned into the palm of his hand. He switched hands and put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Simon?" It was Clary. She sounded breathless. "Where are you?"
"Home," he said, and paused. "My mother's house," he amended. His voice sounded hollow and distant to his own ears. "Why aren't you back at the Institute? Is everyone all right?"
"That's just it," she said. "Just after you left, Maryse came back down from the roof where Jace was supposed to be waiting. There was no one there."
Simon moved. Without quite realizing he was doing it, like a mechanical doll, he began walking up the street, toward the subway station. "What do you mean, there was no one there?"
"Jace was gone," she said, and he could hear the strain in her voice. "And so was Sebastian."
Simon stopped in the shadow of a bare-branched tree. "But he was dead. He's dead, Clary—"
"Then you tell me why he isn't there, because he isn't," she said, her voice finally breaking. "There's nothing up there but a lot of blood and broken glass. They're both gone, Simon. Jace is gone. . . ."
 Source: USA Today