SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews

Well there is not much to say abut me. I love coffee and books and if I can drink a fresh hot coffee while reading even better:)

I started to review a couple years ago and I still loving it. I love the book community and met many awesome people along the way. I'm looking forward to connect to even more of you awesome people out there and of course continue to discover more great books.

You can also find me at my blog over at SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews . And on Goodreads 

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Featured Friday: Fillius Glint by Ditrie Marie Bowie with Excerpt and Interview

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome the wonderful Ditrie Marie Bowie and her book Fillius Glint.

We will have info about the book and author, agreat excerpt of the book and a interview with Ditrie Marie.

Make sure to check everything out and go and show her some love and add the book to your TBR ;) 

Happy Reading :) 


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When you are an adult, living with your parents can be awkward. All Nigel Iffik wants is one quiet night alone with his hand. Instead, he unwittingly unleashes a malicious virus which infects his entire family's network of electronics and Universe Growers. Trillions of sentient beings succumb to destruction as his sister, Nancy, scrambles to undo the damage to her mostly unprotected Universe Grower. Will the anti-viral protocols stop the digital onslaught in time?

Follow four residents of one such endangered universe as they chomp tacos, battle the absurd, and uncover a secret that will change their lives forever.

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This dream was boring. Instead of battling fire-breathing dragons or taming ninja rats, I was standing around waiting for something to happen. I mean, come on. Elder Boya was here, too, even though he’d died five years ago. And Dream Boya wasn’t a paragon of action-adventure, either.

Just. Standing.

We were stuck in the center of my village— a patch of dust ringed by straw-thatched huts. I ran past the taco trees that bordered the village, but the dream plopped me right back in the center whenever I closed in on freedom.

Screw this, I was sick of standing. I sat down on the ground in a huff.

Dream Boya wore blue ceremonial robes that fluttered in a wind I couldn’t feel. His white beard had been combed and threaded into intricate braids. I wondered what the special occasion was.

Other elders were behind him, but they weren’t real people— more like formless shadows. A crowd thrummed behind me, but I couldn’t turn my head to watch them.

Dreams were weird.

Bored, I reached into my pouch for a bauble. But there was nothing there. Frantic, I patted the ground all around me. The satchel was nowhere to be found. Irritated, I scratched my nose. That bag wasn’t only my livelihood— it was the sign of my office. A smetoriya wasn’t complete without one.

I glared at the others in the dreamscape. Had one of the shadows stolen my pouch? I saw the marking staff in Dream Boya’s hand, the knots and whorls of its wood as ancient as my people. That’s when everything clicked into place. In this dream, I hadn’t been made a smetoriya yet. Not officially.

Without warning, the dream world hushed. It was a silence that rattled my bones.

Boya spoke. “It is your eighteenth spring, Calliya Tregoriya. The time has come. You must stand before the people and be marked. Guardian watch over us as we celebrate, the elements witness this day. Did you complete the poros wreath?”

Glancing down, I saw a wreath resting in my palms. It looked like the one I had woven for the real ceremony: tiny leaves and delicate white petals intertwined in an elaborate braid. The main difference was this one glowed like something out of the Spiritwait. Shuddering, I stood up and passed it to Dream Boya. He accepted the gift with a slight bow of his head. A ghostly wind tousled his robes, but the breeze didn’t touch me.

A creeping unease rushed down my shoulders. Air was one of my elements to call; I should at least be able to sense it moving.

The errant wind blew over the poros wreath, crumbling it to dust in Dream Boya’s hand. “It’s gone.” He whispered, his rheumy eyes brimming with confusion. “Gone.” He threaded knobby fingers through the braids of his beard, tugging in frustration. “Ill omen. Ill portent. Oh, woe be unto all who stand witness here this day.” The marking staff drooped and darkened, writhing in his grasp; Elder Boya’s face twisted in tormented anger.

At least the dream was getting interesting.

“Two cycles did I train you, Calliya Tregoriya. Three more cycles did I guide you through the wilderness. Why did you abandon me to the dust?”

Whoa, now. Abandon was a harsh word. Thanks to old age, Elder Boya had met his dust without any input from me. After he passed, I had bound his body to the elements and freed his soul to the Spiritwait. I had done my part. Dream Boya needed to chill the snarks down.

The marking staff leaped out of his hand and slithered to the ground. The weird wind strengthened and inflated Boya to twice his size. “You have forsaken me! You have been marked! You shall be marked!” The staff snaked its way toward me, but I couldn’t move my legs to dodge out of the way. It wrapped itself around my ankles, cramming them together. I lost my balance and crumpled to the soil.

This was seriously uncool. But wait, it got better.

The snarking staff bit me, sending a sharp pain up my legs followed by an indescribable chill. A thick liquid clotted my veins and tightened my jaw.

Poisoned. Paralyzed. This was the worst dream ever.

Dream Boya leaned over me, his features subtly shifting. Tan and weathered skin became smooth and waxy white. Dark, heavy-lidded eyes brightened and changed into large yellow spheres with nictating membranes. The Crenosiyo sage transformed into the Guardian-cursed demon, Qorxu.

Even though I knew this was a dream, a surge of fear shook my soul as the devil leered over me, came close and closer. My spirit screamed, but no sound came out; my mouth was petrified into silence.

Gasping, I awoke to the sounds of the forest. My heart beat a wild rhythm against its bony cage.

Worst. Dream. Ever.

Hello Ditrie Marie. Thank you for taking the time to stop in and chat with us, it is great to have you.

 

What was the best money you ever spent as a writer?

That's a great question. I hate spending money on anything; it makes me terribly anxious. But I'm really glad I invested in copies of Vellum and Scrivener. 

What author, dead or alive would you love to co-write with and why?

Terry Pratchett, hands down. His writing was deliciously punny, and I find myself leaning heavily on that comedic fantasy style.

What is your writing Kryptonite? 

Anxiety and self-doubt. Nothing will kill a story faster.

Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

I don't know how original it is, but I am myself. I write the stories that I enjoy reading. And I'm a weird, quirky little person. So, if nothing else, I write for all the weirdos out there like me.

What was an early experience where you learned that language had power?

Words have had incredible power in my life for as long as I can remember. I grew up in a bilingual household. My mother would often tell us stories or play story-making games with my brother and me when we were little. And no matter which language she's speaking at the time, my mother has an admirable ability to spin stories in an engaging and captivating way. She can tell me about someone walking down the street and make it feel like I'm reading a mystery thriller or a comedy depending on how she spins it. It's pretty amazing.

 

This was fun, again thank you so much for taking the time to chat. You rock!

 

Ditrie Marie Bowie

 

Ditrie Marie Bowie (née Sanchez) is a Puerto Rican in British Columbia, Canada who writes fiction. She is a member of the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi)and co-editor of Strange Stories to Tell in the Park. Bowie is also the creator of the webcomic, This Writer Can’t Draw. A classically trained pianist and former educator, she has lived in three different countries spanning two continents. And she met her spouse in a video game.

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Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/featured-friday-fillius-glint-ditrie-marie-bowie-excerpt-interview

Blog Tour: The Divinity of Anila by Cloud S. Riser with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Cloud S. Riser The Divinity of Anila. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


--My name is Anila. Up until a few days ago, I thought I was just like every other teenage girl. Seriously, life was awesome. I was popular, had great grades, and was on my way to getting a scholarship to one of the top universities in the state. Then my boyfriend decided to go crazy on me, and I end up in a car with some other guy who claims magic is real. Crazy, is what I say. Pretty sure he's out of his mind. I--

--Hold on a minute, Nila is not giving me a fair chance. The name is Bailey, and I'm not crazy. I'm a Muse. And so is she. That's why her boyfriend got uber possessive on her. Muses inspire the best in others, and without control over their magic, a Muse can be pretty addictive to hang around.   Which is why I'm here, to teach Nila how to control that magic so she doesn't cause any more problems with the every day humans. See--   --I hate how he says every day humans like I'm not one of them. Oh, and get this, I apparently can't touch him, even just a tiny bit, because we might create magical sparks...or something?--   --Look at all the things she doesn't know about being a Muse. The sparks help us find our soul mate. Do I need to explain why I don't need her touching me right now? We just met. Besides, it's common courtesy. Keep your hands to yourself.

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 “I love you,” Levi purred into my ear as he kissed along my jaw. Any eighteen-year-old girl would have been thrilled to hear those three words coming from their deliciously handsome boyfriend of two months. The thing is, I'm not just any teenage girl. Truth be told, hearing the words “I love you” made my stomach twist, and I don't mean that in a good way. Probably because deep down in my heart, I knew he didn't mean it. Levi sure sounded convincing, and maybe he believed it was true, but with the way he preferred to try and suck face with me twenty-four/seven instead of actually learning who I was...well, I don't think I need to elaborate on my apprehension to say those three words back. When it came to Levi, the most I knew about him was that he was twenty, was interested in Biology and Chemistry, and was on his college's basketball team. Beyond that, getting him to say a whole lot about himself was like pulling teeth. At first, it didn't bother me. He was cute, in college, and seemed genuinely fascinated with me. Too fascinated with me. That should have been my first tip off right there that something about this guy wasn't all right. He had a charm, though, that made me want to ignore all of the warning signs. Not to mention the fact that he was tall, athletically built, had luscious blond hair, and sparkly blue eyes didn't help. The guy was the definition of physically perfect. A guy so good looking noticing me would never happen again in a million years. Shallow? Yes, but he was also a nice person... from what I knew of him, I mean. His hand went under my shirt and made its way up toward my breasts. That was new for him. Kissing, I let him do. Copping feels and allowing him to touch my bra was not a part of my comfort bubble. With a great deal of gentleness, I placed my hand over his and pulled it out of my shirt. Maybe he thought I was playing around with him, because he just moved it right back. We went back and forth a few times before I finally wiggled my way out from underneath him, falling to the floor from his dorm room couch. “I don't like that,” I said, being blunt. Levi pushed out his lower lip. “I'm sorry, Nila, you're just so...” I placed a finger over his lips. “I'm not mad as long as you respect I'm not ready.” “Well, why aren't you?” he snapped, so suddenly I jumped away from him. My entire mouth seemed to turn into cotton, as I tried to articulate how I was feeling. “Because I'm just not.” “You're eighteen.” “So?” “So I don't get what the hang up is. We're not going to get in trouble.” Then he asked the question that made me throw up a little in my mouth. “Don't you love me too?” Thankfully, I was still on the floor. I managed to pick myself up in a way that didn't let on just how much I was shaking, and I smoothed out my shirt. “It shouldn't matter if I love you or not. If I'm not ready, then I'm not ready. End of story.” “No, not end of story. There's a reason.” His gaze became narrower and I noticed something resembling tears in his eyes. What the heck? Why was he getting so worked up over this? “We haven't been together for too long, and I don't know a whole lot about you. I like you a lot, but this isn't how I want...” I shifted where I stood, trying to hold onto my confidence. “This isn't how I want my first time to happen.” He rolled his eyes at me, the angry tears still present. “You have a guy who loves you and wants to show you how things are done right, and that's not good enough? Should I get you a dozen roses or litter my room with candles? Is that more your thing? What do I have to do to prove to you what I feel is real and I'm the one?” “Whoa, okay, the one?” I laughed. I probably shouldn't have, but I did. “Levi, we've been together for two months. Do you even know the color of my eyes?” “Honey, that's what they make me think of. And I know you ate cereal for breakfast this morning because I can taste it on your breath,” he said. “Last night you spent the night in watching a bunch of shows on wedding dresses, so I know you're kind of a hopeless romantic. I know you a whole lot better than you think.” He knew a lot of things he shouldn't have known. I certainly never told him what I was doing the night before. So how did he know? Did he go hide in the trees outside of my parents’ house and spy through the windows? The idea sounded ridiculous, but he was putting off some major creepy stalker vibes. Slowly, I took in a deep breath and made my way toward the door. “Wow...” “See? I pay attention.” “Yes,” I said carefully. My freedom was only ten feet away. I could make it. The question was, would he let me? Levi slouched where he sat. “You've made up your mind.” “There's a lot I need to think about.” That seemed like a safe answer. Setting him off could prove disastrous. Levi was on the edge, and I didn't want to be the one receiving the brunt of those raw emotions building inside of him. “Fine, bye.” He hunched over even more. So broken. I felt bad, guilty, and those feelings were almost enough to make me stay. Then I remembered how creepy he was acting, and rushed out of the door. I'd been gone for all of three seconds when Levi sent me the first text. “This isn't the end.”

 

Cloud S. Riser is a Minnesota native. She has lived in Minnesota her whole life. She will probably remain there for her whole life too. The mother of The Squid, Skyscraper, and two cats, her life is definitely never dull. An adventure she braves with her husband. In order to stay sane, she creates massive amounts of fiction which she has decided to share with the rest of the world for the simple reason of: she is a storyteller.

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Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

 

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Reading progress update: I've read 470 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

Oh snap !! 

 

Reading progress update: I've read 360 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

I wonder why the cant be together ... I have a idea iof why but we shall see 

 

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Blog Tour: Jack & Hyde by Cloud S. Riser with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Cloud S. Riser’s Jack & Hyde. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


Double, or.... Something

For the most part of his life, Jack Anderson has been plagued by a mysterious disease that makes him a weakling and unable to live the normal life of a teenager. Over the summer, he is shipped off by his parents to a special hospital located in a remote desert-like area where he is to undergo a groundbreaking treatment. After enduring months of questionable medical experiments performed by a group of doctors who are supposed to help him get better but in reality are keeping him sick on purpose all in the name of medical research, Jack escapes from the clandestine medical facility and heads for home.

While Jack was being experimented on against his will, a clone of himself named Hyde was sent to his hometown as an imposter. Enter Jack’s good friend Kayle — “The Freakazoid” — and Claire — Jack’s longtime girlfriend — who begin to see the chinks in facade. To complicate matters, Hyde can’t stand the sight of Claire and begins to develop romantic feelings for Kayle.

When Jack returns home, he comes face to face with his clone and while at first the two boys can’t stand the sight of one another, they soon stumble upon the plan to destroy them both and become allies to fight for their right to co-exist.

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Chapter Two

Kayle  Blog

 

School— the bane of just about every teenager’s existence. You all know how I feel about it. I don’t think I can find anyone who actually likes being there. Even the vast majority of the popular kids hold a special loathing for the place, and that’s saying a lot because they’re, you know, the popular kids. Their only advantage is they somehow figured out how to make the institution known as high school, bearable.

I’d almost be jealous if it didn’t mean sinking to the level of conformity required to fit in. Is there something wrong with partaking in school spirit and going to the weekly big game? No, but those things also didn’t meet my interests, so why should I feel the pressure to go to them? Why should I be outcast for doing my own thing? Being one with the crowd just for the sake of belonging feels an awful lot like selling out to me. Even at sixteen-years-young, I know that selling out is not worth it—ever.

If I didn’t need a high school diploma to get a decent job I actually liked, I probably would have dropped out as soon as I was legally allowed to. However, I’ve put in so much time at Becker High, I need to finish if only so I don’t feel like I’ve wasted so much of my life there.

To my advantage, I do get the privilege of roaming through the hallways unnoticed. People stay out of my way, and I stay out of theirs. Do they whisper about me behind my back? Of course they do. If there is a catty girl in the school who doesn’t hate my guts, I would have to wonder if I had landed in another dimension. When aren’t high school girls being catty? Am I right? Even I find myself partaking in the sport every so often—only out of self-defense. Though, I swear, taking the high road is a lot easier said than done when the same five people like to push every single one of my buttons. Yup, that’s right. I’m about to go on a Jack rant. Okay, maybe not a rant, but another story about him. Why do all of my interesting stories have to revolve around him?

Yes, that’s right, Jack Andersen—the sick kid who happens to be my locker neighbor. For those of you who are new to my blog, I’ll give a brief history lesson. Like most of the students in my class, I’ve known him since preschool. During assemblies we almost always have to sit by one another whenever the grade is organized by alphabet.

Jack used to be sweet. I used to feel bad for him. Used to.

The guy is always in and out of the hospital. Jack suffers from some bizarre illness that affects all of five people on the entire planet—or so the rumors say. Having known him for so long, I’ve witnessed enough of his poor health to know for fact he is in rough shape. The sickly pale color of his skin is sometimes even tinted with green on especially bad days. Oh, and how thin he is, like he only has enough muscle to keep himself alive and moving and nothing more. The frailness is another thing. One wrong move and he could be on his way to the ER with a broken bone. I’ve watched it happen many times.

Somewhere between middle school and high school, Jack ended up becoming Mr. Popular. It probably had something to do with him catching the eye of the most popular girl in school, Claire Winters…who is Satan incarnate. Ever since then, he changed and sick, sweet, Jack wasn’t so sweet anymore.

It makes being his locker neighbor a nightmare.

Back to the story. So I’m watching the main entrance of the school from my locker, keeping my eyes peeled for Jack or his girlfriend to grace the building with their presence. If I don’t sit down in front of my locker every morning, the most adorable couple of Becker High will make sure to invade on my space with their fluffy, obnoxious, PG-rated PDA. It would be easier if the two would just make out on top of my locker, but no, they have to go for the kill with their terms of endearment and Claire’s high pitched squeal of a giggle.

Claire walks into the school first. Because I’m the observant artist that I am (and for some reason some of you actually care about this stuff): her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her large, perfect curls bounced with every step she took. She, of course, wore a tight black sweater. It went far enough down her torso to barely cover her abdomen, because her low-rise, boot cut, jeans certainly weren’t going to. Black, high heeled boots clicked down the hallway past me at record breaking speeds. The girl didn’t even glance toward Jack’s locker as she went by. Even when Claire and Jack fought, there was always at least one look at his territory. Immediately I knew something was up.

I’m thinking: maybe the rumor I heard last Friday was true after all. During orientation last week, there had been whispers that Jack had died, or gone into a coma, or something equally as tragic, over the summer. I’d heard the rumor a number of times before, so I didn’t think much of it while I was setting up my locker for the year and taking my ID photo. After all, if I believed everything I heard, I’d be a member of a cult, slept with an entire rock band, and did heroin on a regular basis. Rumors are nothing more than modern day fairy tales. Fantasy filled lessons of life, or unrealistic happily ever afters, or in Jack’s case: the tragic end to a great hero.

For a moment, my gaze followed Claire down the hall to her own locker and I tried to get a read on what was going on based on body language alone. There were no tears, but Claire’s body was more stiff than usual, which was saying a lot for the coldest of ice princesses. Despite being petite in size, Claire usually holds the confidence of a giant, strutting around as if she owns the school and everyone in it. All of that attitude and arrogance was missing from the girl I saw this morning. When students started to surround Claire in droves, offering up tearful hugs, the rumor of Jack’s demise became a reality.

I contemplated briefly going over and offering my own condolences. It seemed like the right thing to do. We’re far from being close friends, let alone acquaintances, but I still knew Jack well enough. Even if he was sometimes a complete dick to me, he didn’t deserve to die or suffer the way he did. At the same time, joining in on the crowd to express my sympathies didn’t seem right either. It needed to happen in a private moment or it would probably come across as insincere.

I looked over at Jack’s locker, or what was supposed to be his locker. Every year we were on a different floor of the school, but always right next to one another. The empty space would be strange, or even worse...having someone new to annoy me for the rest of the year.

Would the school fill his vacancy so quickly? The guy was popular and loved by teachers as well as students. He didn’t cause trouble, just made stupid comments about business that wasn’t his. Almost everyone thought of him as some kind of martyr, sent to this world to suffer. If he did truly die, his sainthood would be validated. The idea makes me want to gag.

Then, all of a sudden, the halls grew eerily quiet. One-by-one the students’ chatter faded into silence. No one dared to cough, let alone sneeze. Outside of one classmate who decided to shut a locker, it was unbearably void of sound. I am not making this up.

Next, I heard the heavy, arrogant, swagger of footsteps coming toward me. Like the red sea parting, students moved to either side of the hall, giving me a perfect view of Jack walking to his locker from the front door of the school. I’d been so busy watching Claire and everyone else, I hadn’t thought to keep watching for the newcomers.

Jack’s appearance wouldn’t have been so intriguing if everyone else wasn’t acting as if they’d seen a ghost. Not to mention, there were things different about him. His body had lean, healthy muscle and a nice, natural, tan coloring to his skin. Rather than looking like a member of the reanimated dead, he actually resembled a human being. Everything else about him was the same. The short, platinum blond hair that was styled in neat, gelled spikes was still present. Jack hasn’t updated his haircut since he was twelve. His preppy attire made the classic All-American appearance complete. Ew. A miracle happened over the summer.

The silence broke when Jack started to whistle, acting as though nothing were out of the ordinary. In truth, nothing should have been. He must have been the only one who didn’t get the memo on his death.

“Morning,” he greeted me, looking down at the paper that had the year’s locker combo written on it.

I shifted my gaze up to him. “Huh?”

“I said, morning. Buenos dias, bienvenidos, pick your favorite.”

I stared up at him with raised eyebrows.

He frowned. “Konichiwa? Ni Hao? Guttenmorgen? …why are you looking at me like I have three heads all of a sudden?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, everyone is looking at you like you have three heads,” I said in a staged whisper.

“Why?” he pressed.

“You didn’t hear that you died over the summer?” I asked.

“Again?”

“Yeah, I know. You die every summer and holiday.” I, surprisingly, managed a small laugh, taking advantage of the pleasant moments with him while I could. When he’s nice to me, I do enjoy his company.

Jack rolled his eyes and pulled out a few books from his locker. “That’s one rumor I’m happy to officially get rid of.”

“J-Jack,” Claire’s soft voice broke in.

He spun to face her and gave her what appeared to be a rather forced smile. “Hey beautiful girl.”

“Your mother said...”

“She was misinformed,” he said blandly. “Obviously I’m alive, and even better, I’m cured.”

“H-how?” Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears. The whole scene was starting to turn into some kind of bad teenage soap opera program.

Jack placed a finger over her lips. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. What matters is I’m here and fine. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

At that point, I tuned out. The two were going to get sappy, and I would lose my breakfast if I continued to subject myself to it.

Some people think I’m jealous of people like Jack and Claire. They’re beautiful, popular, and the definition of perfect. The great deal of animosity I hold against them would be a symptom of said jealousy. So was the nauseous feeling in my stomach whenever I watch the two lock lips repeatedly over Jack’s locker, or tried to. For some reason, Claire’s kisses seemed to only land on his cheeks and forehead this morning. But honestly? I can’t think of one thing to be jealous about. Because they had each other? I have plenty of time for boyfriends once my pickings aren’t limited to the population of Becker High.

No, my problem with them isn’t jealousy. It’s annoyance. They are annoying and rude. At least Jack seemed to get some common courtesy over the summer because he finally didn’t subject me to their cutesy lip pecking. No one does that anymore. Get in the new millennium. What else annoys me about him and Claire? They are too perfect. It’s surreal how flawless they are. So no, it’s not jealousy per sé, it’s a deep frustration over the future of my generation—remember: Jack and Claire are considered cool. Everyone who isn’t me wants to be them. Soon, there will be hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of Jack’s and Claire’s destroying originality forever.

“Get a room,” the voice of Miles Stanson said, though it was mostly in jest. Still, it got them to stop, right? He nudged Jack into his locker before going in and giving the other guy a large hug. “Man, is it good to see you.”

I gazed up at Miles, who is probably the only popular kid in the school who doesn’t make me want to beat my skull against a wall. The guy is genuine, doesn’t play the stupid games the other popular kids play, and has something resembling intelligence in his brain. He acknowledged me with a small wave, and then went back to bothering Jack.

Laughing, Jack returned the hug, a look resembling relief was in his eyes. His entire body relaxed, as if he actually wanted Miles to interrupt his moment with Claire. Come to think of it, when they had been kissing, he’d been less involved in the process. While she tried to crush her mouth against his, he was much more conservative and only nuzzled her. I thought that was a bit strange. Shouldn’t they have been exchanging saliva and tongues like there was no tomorrow? Regardless of the rumor, I had heard Jack went away for the summer for some kind of special treatment program. No doubt they missed one another. That’s what normal people do when they’re apart for a long time, right?

Miles’s next question confirmed this rumor. “What happened this summer? You were supposed to call and keep me posted.”

“Don’t be offended, man, I didn’t get to call anyone,” Jack said. “Not even my parents or Claire. They were kind of strict about using the phone.”

“Isn’t that kind of weird?” Miles asked.

He shrugged. “Given all of the other things I had to do while I was there, I didn’t have a whole lot of time to talk anyway. But yeah, it seemed a little weird to me too. It got results. I shouldn’t complain.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Miles stepped back and briefly did a once over on Jack. “You look as good as new.”

“I know, maybe I should actually try to play football this year instead of just manage the team,” Jack joked.

Miles clapped him on the back. “If you think you have some kind of natural skill, we could use the help. Not doing too well this year. Then again, having you back on the team to help with strategy and morale will help.”

“Can you boys talk sports later? I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” Claire said, glaring intently at Miles before her gaze wandered down to me to give me one too for good measure.

I rolled my eyes, and returned the glare, making sure to not be phased by Claire’s immaturity.

Also unbothered was Miles, who laughed it off. “You can have him for the other twenty-three hours of the day, promise. The bell is going to ring soon anyway. I’ll bug you about it at lunch, dude. Then I can get the rest of the team to back me up and you can tell us all about your awesome time in California. I mean, you couldn’t have gone down there and done nothing right?”

Jack’s body stiffened ever so slightly. No one else probably noticed it, but I did. His jaw tightened. “Right, yeah, lunch, sounds good.”

“Cool.” Miles gave a wave and made his way down the hallway. A few other friends of Jack’s attempted to come up and say hello as Miles was leaving, but anytime someone got close, Claire made sure to ice them out with glares and the possessive way she clutched onto Jack’s shirt.

Carefully, Jack lowered her grip on him, instead holding her hands in his own. “I have to get to class. Being late wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“What’s your first class?” Claire asked, and I was about to block them out again now that things were no longer interesting. Jack’s answer surprised me for some reason.

“Advanced World Lit,” he said.

My class. I had to suppress a groan. Why did he have to invade on my territory? The first thing that passed through my mind was: If she’s in that class too, I’m giving up on junior year.

The pout Claire wore was like some kind of pathetic puppy dog who’d just lost its favorite treat. “Boo, I thought you were going to stay in Spanish with me this year. There’s only one class for third year students.”

“I tested out.” He kissed her forehead. “I gotta go, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta organize my locker and all that other stuff still. I just got back on Saturday so I’m kind of discombobulated. But I’m sure we’ll have a class together later.”

“Okay, I guess I can live with that.” She kissed his cheek. “Bye Baby.”

“Bye,” he said, a large smile on his face. As soon as she was out of sight, the smile faded and he muttered under his breath. “Psycho.”

That caught my attention again. I gazed up at Jack, eyes wide.

He met my gaze with his own. “You’re giving me the three heads look again.”

“I heard what you said.”

“What, bye? Ooh, scandalous.”

“No, the other thing,” I said. I’m not crazy. He called his girlfriend a psycho.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He winked, grabbed his notebooks for class, and then shut the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

I pursed my lips together. “Excuse me?”

“I can walk you to class?”

“Why do you want to?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

I peered up at him. “Don’t you hate my guts?”

“Nah, but I do think you’re weird.” He paused. “Right? I mean, you are weird?”

Something about his hesitation confused me. He’s called me a weirdo, a freak, and a whole slew of other synonymous nicknames. Most are harmless. What hurts me most is the fact he feels it necessary to say them more than the actual words themselves. I expected so much more from him. Why would he hesitate as if he weren’t sure if he should say it to my face if he’d never had issues with it before? Did he finally have a change of heart? Perhaps he grew a brain while in Cali? Or rather, his brain regained its ability to think properly now that it’s healthy again.

Standing and gathering my things for class as well, I rolled my eyes again, because that’s what I do when I’m annoyed. With everything I needed in my arms, I slammed my locker door shut. “I prefer individual, but if being my own person is weird, then yes, I’m weird. Strange. Bizarre. Call me whatever you want, Jack, because what you think of me doesn’t matter in the slightest. It never has.”

“Awesome, so I can walk you to class,” he said, shutting his locker and then grinning down at me.

With a groan, I started down the hall. Jack kept pace with me. I still haven’t figured out why he was so gung-ho about taking me to class. My guard is up though in case it’s some kind of awful prank. It would not surprise me in the slightest if Claire arranged something over the summer to humiliate me in front of the whole school. When I call her Satan incarnate, I’m serious, and she’s got a huge beef against me for some reason even though I’ve done nothing to her. It’s not even because I’m “weird”, because she’s sweet as pie to all of the other kids who have still maintained their individuality. She’s nice to everyone. E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. But me.

Something is up. Outwardly, everything about him is exactly the same. On the inside, he’s different, and I am going to figure out why.

I gotta run. There will be more to this story later, you can guarantee it. Just had to vent my frustration over Jack being Jack. Once again, he’s the center of attention and if he thinks he can play mind games with me, he has another thing coming. My gut says he’s changed, though, and if that really is the case, then I need to be prepared even more because Claire isn’t going to like it.

Why do I get the feeling I’m the one who’s going to suffer the most no matter what happens?

 

Cloud S. Riser is a Minnesota native. She has lived in Minnesota her whole life. She will probably remain there for her whole life too. The mother of The Squid, Skyscraper, and two cats, her life is definitely never dull. An adventure she braves with her husband. In order to stay sane, she creates massive amounts of fiction which she has decided to share with the rest of the world for the simple reason of: she is a storyteller.

Links

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Reading progress update: I've read 250 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

Ooohhh soo much tension 

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Reading progress update: I've read 190 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

Oh so many emotions so early on 

 

Reading progress update: I've read 113 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

Vampires and pizza lol 

Reading progress update: I've read 36 out of 512 pages.

Daughters Of The Storm -  Kim Wilkins

Reading progress update: I've read 1 out of 688 pages.

Lady Midnight (The Dark Artifices) - Cassandra Clare

Let the adventure begin and may it be better than the last book and the other book Im still working on.

Reading progress update: I've read 352 out of 352 pages.

By the Book - Julia Sonneborn

Sadly this book was not for me ... RTC

Blog Tour:The Children of Clay by Ono Ekeh with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Ono Ekeh’s The Children of Clay. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


The Clay Queen

Book One

 

With her armies defeated, Queen Nouei’s enemies march north to capture her. The earth god’s only hope is to alter history before they arrive. To become stronger she must restart her divine journey by reincarnating as Bridget Blade. But what if Bridget doesn’t want to be a god?   All Bridget wants is a simple life with love and family. But she is confronted by a destiny she doesn’t even understand and burdened by powers and impulses she struggles to control. Bridget must choose a path that leads her to Nouei or, must force the Queen to settle for Bridget’s modest ambitions.   Two women, two destinies, one life. Who will prevail?

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Clay to Ashes

Book Two 

 

Bridget Blade is both a god with an insatiable desire for love and adoration and a human plagued by insecurities, fears, and anxieties. Unaware of her true divinity she longs for the kind of love and a happy family she's never had. Her husband, Jeremy, though, seems more interested in turning her into a research project that he can commercialize.   When Bridget discovers her new abilities she revels in the discovery that she is a god. But her new powers attract unwanted attention and Bridget must fight for her independence and survival.   But when survival means giving up the adoration she craves Bridgett must confront the desires that drive her. Does she want freedom or does she want adoration? She can have one or the other, but not both.

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Clay to Ashes Excerpt

Sister Vesta Kaypore ran down the stone hallway as fast as she could, her footsteps resounding in her ears. The dormitory doors to her right blurred until she arrived at the infirmary at the end of the hallway, where Bridget Blade lay unconscious as she had for the last four months. “In there, Sister.” Brother Juan, a fellow member of the Order of Ryna, opened the door for her. The room was brightly lit by the midday sun, with a mild breeze carrying moist, earthy scents from the woods behind the monastery. Sister Kaypore gasped as she moved her fellow Ryneans out of the way. A man brandishing a knife stood over Bridget’s bed. With the gleaming blade grasped in a reverse grip, he pointed it downward over her chest, while he pressed his other hand flatly between her breasts. He’d dragged off her covers and hospital gown, exposing her upper torso, which was honeycombed with black scars from skin graft surgeries she had undergone as the result of radiation burns. Sister Kaypore clutched her hands to her heart in compassion for the man. Tear stains traced channels from his unblinking eyes as he scanned the room, staring at each sister and brother present as though daring them to interfere. His eyes brimmed with fresh tears as thick wetness ran from his nostrils. This was a man maddened by grief, probably having lost family in the tragedy months ago during the Miracle of the Sun here at the monastery. Since the radiation discharge and stampede that followed, thousands of mourners had traveled to the monastery to pay their respects to the dead. Many had become disruptive, some even violent. Bridget’s part in all the events was a carefully guarded secret. The Order knew. The French, U.S., and Chinese governments all knew enough, as did the Vatican. Many people were present when Bridget was rescued from an electromagnetic field that she likely generated, and also when she appeared to emit ionizing radiation from her body. She was too much of an oddity to keep a secret forever, although most of the people present had been discreet about the information so far—most, but clearly not all. The shutters had been ripped off and the window panels shattered. A grappling hook attached to a climbing rope hung from the frame, next to an overturned IV pole. The room was quiet and still. It was as though Sister Kaypore had walked in during a natural pause in the activity. “Who are you?” she asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. The man’s hand trembled. “I lost everyone. My father, my mother, my cousin, my sisters.” His eyes watered. “My sister, Zanel, was crushed. Her head was smashed in. My mother just died from her injuries… all because of this stupid religion.” All six sisters and brothers attending to Bridget had backed off to the edges of the room. Sister Kaypore took a step into the buffer zone between them and the assailant. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill her.” His tears streaked down his face. “Why her?” Sister Kaypore asked. “Why not me, or Brother Juan here, or Sister Mascomb?” She pointed at Bridget. “Why her?” “I have friends. I heard talk. They said there was a witch in here that you’re protecting. She caused all this. Why would you protect her?” “Does she seem like a witch to you? Look at her! Does she look like a witch?” Sister Kaypore took two more steps. “I will kill her. I don’t want to harm you.” He raised his hand, holding his palm outward in Sister Kaypore’s direction. “Why is this religion like this?” “Your family worshiped Ryna? Why not you?” she asked. “Did you leave the Faith?” “I chose to follow Thysia,” he said with force. “That’s a religion that makes sense. It’s why no one wants to follow your cursed religion any more. Don’t come any closer!” “I don’t think you came to kill her.” Sister Kaypore walked confidently to the bed and stood across from him. “Put the knife away. If you really wanted to kill her, you would have done so already.” “I came to kill the witch.” “No, you came because you want answers.” The doors swung open and Padre Bede Blade ran in. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the man with the foot-long knife raised menacingly over Bridget. “Oh, dear God,” he muttered. “This is Father Bede,” Sister Kaypore said. “He is a Thysian priest. Will you listen to him?” The man regarded Bede with interest. “You are a Thysian priest? Why are you here with these people and not with us? They worship a demon. They’re intolerant and disgusting. They follow no leader—have no priests.” Bede’s forehead knotted with confusion as he made his way to the bed. His movements were careful and deliberate. “Does Jeremy know?” he asked Sister Kaypore softly. She shook her head. “What are you two talking about?” The man lowered the knife, though it still hovered over Bridget. “Jeremy is Bridget’s husband—my brother,” Bede said with a deep inhalation. “If Jeremy comes in here, you will not make it out alive. He will kill you.” The man’s eyes darted back and forth between them as though seeking validation from the sister. “I’ll kill his wife first.” “No, you don’t understand,” Bede said. “Jeremy believes that his wife can’t die. He’ll let you stab her because he believes she’ll survive, but you won’t.” Sister Kaypore placed her hand on Bede’s forearm to stop him from talking. She walked over to the other side of the bed and stood next to the man. She reached out and held his hand, the one leaning on Bridget. “You want answers. That’s why you’re here. You want to know what it is in this ‘disgusting religion,’ as you call it, that would make people offer their lives to Lord Ryna to be reaped. You want your childhood faith to make sense again.” “I gave up all of this,” he swung his knife in a wide-encompassing arc, “a long time ago. I don’t want—” “I can’t bring your family back,” Sister Kaypore continued, “but I can give you more. Much more. I can give you a beautiful death, euthanasia. Would you like to die a free and meaningful death? Would you like to join your family in the bosom of Ryna?” The man, cried quietly and clung to the side-railing of the bed with both hands. His grip on the knife handle loosened, though its blade still pointed carelessly at Bridget’s ribs. Sister Kaypore closed the space between them, wrapping him in a hug. Tall and regal, she enveloped him, pressing her cheek firmly against his. “Tell me their names, your family. Tell me all about them. I want to celebrate them with you.” His shoulders shook as he sobbed. Grief wracked his body. She gently patted his shoulder to comfort him. “We want to assure you that they meant so much to us. And everything to Ryna.” A loud moan escaped his lips at the mention of Ryna. “After you tell us about each one of them, after you’ve recalled every scrap of memory, which we will record and remember, after all this, I will bring you back here. Then you can gaze at the face of this woman. Hers is the face of a god.” His eyes briefly looked up into Sister Kaypore’s, searching them for truth and sincerity. She continued trying to convince him of the truth. “Then you’ll understand eros. True eros, that takes us out of ourselves into ecstasy, that drives us beyond our physical form into the loving arms of Ryna.” Her voice rose with conviction at her words. “This world is of no consequence. Do not waste another moment pining for what you think you have lost when we can promise you an eternity with the Lord. Do you accept my offer to die a beautiful death?” His subdued sobs continued unabated, and then morphed into loud cries as he poured out his grief. “Look at her face,” Sister Kaypore said cocking her head in the direction of Bridget. “This is the icon of the true beauty that is beyond flesh. Go beyond the shadows, for they offend, and long for true being in the light of Ryna. Do you consent to die?” The man straightened and steadied himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked at Bridget. He stood motionless for a few minutes as he took in the view of the unconscious woman who only moments ago was to be his victim. “May I touch her?” His voice was a whisper. “You already have,” Bede said. “That man was not me. His anger blinded him.” The man held Bridget’s limp fingers and kissed them gently. “She is not a witch. She is the face of God. I will go… to the land of my fathers. I want to see my mother again, my father, my sister, and all those I love.” Sister Kaypore held him by the arm. “She gives such peace, doesn’t she? We will grant you your wish. But first, let us celebrate your family. You must tell us everything about them. We will record their lives in our ledger of saints. When we are done, we will take you down to the cavern, where you will yield your life to the Almighty, Her Lord Majesty, Ryna, God of all.”

Ono Ekeh is a fifth generation android whose initial programming has exceeded its original boundaries resulting in a self-conscious, fully functional, quasi-human life form. He is married to a wonderful human woman and has four amazing kids. He is interested in religion, politics, science fiction, writing, food, mathematics, and other things.

Links 

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Review: Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3) by Ilona Andrews

Wildfire -  Ilona Andrews

 

Just when Nevada Baylor has finally come to accept the depths of her magical powers, she also realizes she’s fallen in love. Connor “Mad” Rogan is in many ways her equal when it comes to magic, but she’s completely out of her elements when it comes to her feelings for him. To make matters more complicated, an old flame comes back into Rogan’s life…

Rogan knows there’s nothing between him and his ex-fiance, Rynda Sherwood. But as Nevada begins to learn more about her past, her power, and her potential future, he knows she will be faced with choices she never dreamed of and the promise of a life spent without him.

As Nevada and Rogan race to discover the whereabouts of Rynda’s kidnapped husband and are forced to confront Nevada’s grandmother, who may or may not have evil motives, these two people must decide if they can trust in each other or allow everything to go up in smoke

First I want to say thank you to my awesome friend, who not only got me a copy of Wildfire but also stood in line and got it personalized and signed by the Andrews for me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you my dear friend, I will treasure it forever. This book was insane and just pure awesomeness. We got non-stop action, romance and humor. No matter how dire the situations are in books, the Andrews still always manage to make it funny and dun to read. I also should say that if you are hoping to find out who Caesar is in this book, you will be disappointed. While we get a strong idea who it is we never find out for sure. I really hope they decide to write more books in the series. In this book we learn even more history if the houses and how they run, we also see firsthand what goes into becoming a new house as Baylors are becoming one. I really liked that part as we get a better understanding but they also had the difficulties as some of their best kept secrets are being revealed. Yes. We learn everyone’s powers in this book and it is epic. I loved the dynamic between Nevada and Rogan, they are truly a power couple in every sense of the word. We also get to see Cornelius again and I really enjoyed how much he fits in with Nevada and co. Of course we have Bug, who I also adore. Someone less pleasant is also a bigger part of this book. Rynda. Rogan’s ex. I didn’t care much for her or her story but I loved how Nevada handled her and how it all ended. Unfortunately we do not get to see a lot of Augustine, whom I really liked and would have loved to see more of. Good or bad. Another think we learn more of is Nevada’s Grandmother , which had kind of a surprising ending to me. Overall, I loved this epic book and wish like many other readers that they do write more books in the series. There is so much more to be discovered and fought against. I give this book a full 5 ★ rating

 

Some of my favorite quotes:

“Arabella ran out of blackboard space, crouched, and began dividing on the floor. “This is what we get for teaching them Common Core,” one of the arbiters said. “There is nothing wrong with Common Core,” someone else said. Arabella”

***

“Yes, sir. I was going to kiss you good night, but now I can’t. It’s against the rules to fraternize with my superior officer.”

***

“When life hits you in the gut, it’s always a sucker punch. You never see it coming. One moment you’re walking along, worrying your little worries and making quiet plans, and the next you’re rolled into a ball, trying to hug yourself against the pain, frantic and reeling, your mind a jumble of scared thoughts.”

***

“I don’t believe she sees him as family,” Cornelius said. “She can see him however she wants. I only care how Rogan sees me.”

***

 

 

Available NOW 

 

   

 

Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. author2sm“Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.)

Gordon and Ilona currently reside in Oregon with their two children, three dogs and a cat. They have co-authored two series, the bestselling urban fantasy of Kate Daniels and romantic urban fantasy of The Edge.

 

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Amazon

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Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/review-wildfire-hidden-legacy-3-ilona-andrews

Reading progress update: I've read 50 out of 512 pages.

Daughters Of The Storm -  Kim Wilkins

Sadly, this book is super slow to me and I cant seem to connect with the dull characters. I'm taking a break from it for now and read something else first.

 

Reading progress update: I've read 102 out of 352 pages.

By the Book - Julia Sonneborn

Characters in this book seem to be literary snobs. Which to me is a big turn off but we shall see how it goes. 

Santa's Little Authors Christmas Giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

~Let us read, let us read, let us read ~ 

Come and join us again for another

great multi author Giveaway.

Running now through January 1. 2018 

Over 50 Authors and Bloggers

(that includes SnoopyDoo's  :D ) 

 

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With this awesome giveaway that has tons of awesome prizes :)

Books, gift cards,  other gifts

and lets not forget the grand prize

of $160 PayPal cash

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Make sure to fill all entries to increase your chances of winning,

 don't forget some entries can be done every day :) 

 

   

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Good Luck and as always Happy Reading :) 

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Giveaway

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

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