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In the Eyes of an Angel by Kimberly Livingston – Blog Tour

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New Adult is a fairly new fiction ‘genre’ and one that is growing in popularity. Moving on from young adult which explores the lives of teenagers to seeing the lives of young people at university and starting work, and with more adult relationship content. Please find below an extract from chapter one of contemporary romance new adult novel In the Eyes of an Angel by Kimberly Livingston, and check out the other stops on the blog tour to find out more.

Synopsis

Camille Ryan is in her final year at Southern State University. Working as a bartender in a local establishment in order to support herself, she knows from her mother’s experience with her alcoholic father not to depend on anyone. That is until travelling businessman Rick Pantanelli decides to visit her bar. He is a handsome, well-off, successful professional and her senior by a full 17 years.

Camille is used to doing everything she is expected to do. But when she meets Rick she is swept away by his good looks, his charm and his ability to take care of her. Rick is used to getting what he wants. But when he meets Camille he is swept away by her beauty and her inner fragility. He finds himself believing he can take care of her. Is this belief strong enough to make him a better man?

Author

Kimberly Livingston visited Disneyland for the first time as a young girl. Since then the magic has infused into her blood and she remains an avid Disney fan! She lives in Colorado with her own Prince Charming. In the Eyes of an Angel is Kimberly Livingston’s first published novel.  On A Run is her second novel.  Please connect on  twitter @KLnovels

Extract

Thursday morning’s alarm went off. Camille for a moment could not think of what day it was or why there was that noise in her ear. She then realized the day, the time, and the fact that she had to get up to review her notes prior to taking her exam so she could pass. Dragging herself from her bed she crossed the ice cold floor of her dungeon-like room.

Camille shared a six-bedroom Victorian home near campus with five other girls; strangers, for the most part. She had moved in with some friends last summer, just having broken up with the guy she lived with and forced to find a new residence. After only a semester the friends all moved to different apartments. Camille couldn’t afford the security and rent deposits to move again so stayed, thinking that for another year it couldn’t be too bad. She was wrong. Luckily, she had the bedroom in the basement, which, though dark, was the largest. The basement had its own outside entrance and the bedroom door could lock. There was a bathroom just outside the room that the other girls rarely used because it was down the stairs and only a three quarter bath. Camille quit going upstairs altogether; even to visit the one cupboard that was technically “hers” in the kitchen. More often than not she found that when she put any groceries in the cupboard they would be gone by the time she wanted them. The same went for the refrigerator, which was disgustingly covered in food spills and generally only contained cases of beer, sour milk, and left over margaritas. Camille had bought herself a small refrigerator and microwave for her bedroom and kept what few snacks she had there.

This morning, Camille unsteadily stumbled to the door, which she unlocked with the key and went to shower. She had begun to rehearse what she remembered from the text but found herself thinking of other things instead. Standing in the shower Camille’s mind flitted with thoughts of her living situation; her lack of money; her future; her job; then just as subconsciously of the Chivas that ordered the night before. She smiled a rare smile
these days. She thought about his out of place looks in the bar. Too well dressed, too put together, too fine. Oh so fine.

The shower was getting cold. Someone upstairs must have begun to shower, stealing her hot water. Camille turned off the faucet and dried off. It was just as well, she was going to run out of time to study if she didn’t hurry.

Camille drove the four blocks to class today instead of walking, partly because she had to go to work right after her final hour and partly because of the cold. She thanked the parking lot gods for leaving her a space closer to her class than her house and went into the building. It was going to be a sunnier day today and she felt better for it.

Camille slipped into her seat at the back of the room next to her friend Jennifer.

“God, you look like shit !” Jen greeted her. “Did the girls have another party last night?”

Camille’s roommates were not in college due to scholarships. They did not even appear to be going for any particular reason other than to socialize late into each evening. The loud parties were infamous with many other non-scholarship receiving youth glad to be away from their parents’ watchful eyes, if not their wallets.

“Thanks, hi to you too. No, I had a late night at work. I didn’t get home until after three.”

“My god girl, how do you do it?”

“Pure necessity!” Camille replied, which was the truth of it. Her life, at the moment, seemed to be made up of necessities. She worked and she studied to stay in school and she went to school because…… because she hoped that someday it would get her to a point where “necessity” was no longer a word in her vocabulary.

Camille had picked a degree that seemed secure; one that would always provide her a job regardless of the economy, one that didn’t rely on too many other people. Accounting suited Camille’s ideals perfectly, she thought. She liked numbers. They were reliable, predictable, quiet. Camille always had difficulty telling people her major. Invariably she would get the comment, “You don’t look like an accountant.” She never knew what that meant. What did an accountant look like? Camille had no idea that what she looked like to others was a dancer, or a famous actress not yet discovered, or an angel. In fact, Camille had no thoughts as to her own beauty, inner or outward. This innocence was what made her so darn attractive. Somehow, she managed not to notice men looking at her. She kept to herself and always had. Perhaps it was a protective barrier she kept around herself to keep herself from getting hurt.

Camille had had only a few relationships in her life. After high school, she met someone early in her freshman year at the University. He was older than her by ten years and what some would call a professional student: always in school, never graduating. He had changed majors so many times he could hardly remember what they all were. He lived off of student loans, and as long as he stayed in school he didn’t have to pay them back. Camille was invited to move in with him soon after they began to date. She did so because half the rent was cheaper than paying for the dorms. He seemed like the “right one” to her. After a while, though, she realized that she was just helping him to pay for his way of life. He drank, which began to become more noticeable, and Camille was fairly sure he was unfaithful, though she never had evidence. While at first he had seemed romantic, she soon found that he was the type to forget her birthday, forget her at all it seemed. After going home for the summer of her sophomore year, she broke up with him. She did it over the phone. She did it from home. He kept pleading with her not to leave, and when she
arrived at the airport he was there with flowers and candy waiting. Too little too late.

If this sounds like your type of read you can find it on amazon kindle.

 

Shadow Reaper Release Day Blitz – Extract and Read-a-Long – Amos Cassidy

Today is the release day for the novel Shadow Reaper described as a dark urban fantasy with a post-apocalyptic twist.

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Goodreads link

Kindle download link

What’s it about?

Only the bravest go over the Horizon…

Twenty years ago the barriers between worlds came down and our reality was swallowed up by the Shadowlands. Now we scavenge to survive, until one day there’s nothing left to reap. Starvation is around the corner, but I’m not the roll over and wait-to-die kinda girl. Nope, I’m going further than anyone has ever been and returned to tell the tale. I’m going into the Beyond, and I’m not coming back without a solution.

Who wrote it?

amos-cassidyTwitter Link

Amos Cassidy is the pen name for Richard Amos and Debbie Cassidy. Amos is a 31 year old Diva and Cassidy a 39 year old mother of three; well, four if you include the husband. A common love of all things Joss Whedon, Urban Fantasy, and a tug of war over Jensen Ackles, brought them together, and one cold February afternoon, over nibbles and coffee, their partnership was born.
You can find Cassidy hard at work in her fortress of solitude which has eaten up the majority of her garden, and Amos…well he’s still trying to get the invisibility gizmo he got off a friendly alien in exchange for a pair of earphones to work. Funnily enough he hasn’t been seen around much lately…

Frequent doses of Sugary snacks, coupled with regular injections of caffeine aid in their production of a unique brand of cross genre tales. They are always writing, but are happy to take a break to chat to their wonderful readers, so drop them a line at amoscassidy@yahoo.co.uk, or just pop over to see what they’re working on at amoscassidyauthor.com and they’ll bust out the biscuit tin.

Join in the Read-a-long

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Read an extract below

ASH

 

It was a day like all the others, dark as pitch and cold as ice, most definitely not a day to die. So when I came face to face with the Knightmare, I froze, all my training taking a flying leap out the proverbial window. You didn’t get Knightmares on this side of the Horizon. In fact, it’d been over a year since anyone had seen one at all.

The Knightmare stared at me with its slanted, glowing eyes, steam pluming from its perpetually flared nostrils, its equine body poised to attack and then it opened its mouth and screamed.

I remembered how to run.

I ran on instinct, moving through the underground tunnels from memory alone. I could hear it behind me, its hooves thundering against the cracked concrete, its rumbling breath pressing against my ears.

It shouldn’t be here, couldn’t be here, and yet it was.

I realised that if I ran back to Shelter, then I’d be leading it straight home, so I took a left instead of a right at the next intersection. I ran, losing myself in the burning of my lungs and the screaming of my muscles. It was only a matter of time before it got me, only a matter of minutes, because I was losing momentum. I couldn’t keep up this pace much longer.

My eyes stung, my throat grew tight. Man, I was pissed! Nineteen years I’d survived this hellhole, nineteen, and I was going to get taken out by a Knightmare? No way was I going out like that! Besides, if I croaked, then that thing would be left roaming the tunnels. My people would be in danger. I had no idea how it’d managed to get across the Horizon without being spotted by the Eye. I’d have to report this to Blake, get him to look into the security. The small bitey critters that scuttled across were one thing, those were inevitable. Those we could handle, but this was bad, real bad.

Up ahead, the fallen and rusted body of a huge contraption from the time before came into view. I gave a final burst of speed and leapt up onto its metallic body. The Knightmare reared back. One thing about Knightmares, they’re not big on climbing. I blew tendrils of hair out of my eyes, yanked out my scrunchie and then scraped my hair back up into a tight ponytail.

It paced, back and forth, its eyes glistening in the dark. I crouched, tips of my fingers grazing cool metal, and watched it—waiting.

That’s it, just get bored and piss off, you ugly—

“Mansfield?” A shrill whistle. “Where are you, boy?”

What the hell? There was someone down here.

The sound of slow, leisurely footsteps echoed through the darkness.

The Knightmare turned his head to look back up the tunnel.

Shit! Who could be so stupid as to be out here alone?

You are, you twat!

Point.

“Oi! Don’t come any closer,” I yelled. “There’s a Knightmare here. Run!”

The footsteps faltered.

He was probably from the slums, maybe using the tunnels to scavenge like I was. Fuck, I remembered those days, but it was dangerous, too dangerous for someone untrained. I waited, straining to hear the sounds of retreat, yet there was nothing but silence.

Had I imagined the voice?

The Knightmare turned away from me.

No, definitely not my imagination. Those things could smell a human a mile off. Stupid bloody man, boy, whoever it was.

“Bloody run, you idiot! There’s no point hiding! It can bleedin’ smell ya!”

A low chuckle filtered through the air, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.

They were growing closer.

Well, there was no helping some people.

A shape became visible. A man, tall, broad, and slim, wreathed in darkness. My eyes, accustomed to the gloom of the tunnels, could make out only the whites of his eyes surrounding cerulean blue.

“Well, there you are, Mansfield.” The Knightmare whinnied and trotted over to the man, offering his huge head to be petted.

What the crap?

The man tilted his head to look up at me. “Dangerous being out here all alone, little human.” He said the last word as if it were a dirty one.

Mansfield emitted a pleading rumble.

“Mansfield’s hungry.” The man cocked his head and stared at me for a very long time, so long, in fact, that I began to wonder if he’d turned to stone or fallen asleep on his feet with his eyes open. “I don’t think she’ll make a very palatable meal, boy. All skin and bones, that one. Come, we’ll find you something more . . . substantial.”

A chill crawled up my spine. Only one of them could control a Knightmare. A Shadowlander.

He flashed me his even white teeth. “You’re safe for now, human. Crawl off to your hideout and forget this ever happened.”

And just like that, they were gone.

I exhaled sharply and stared at the spot where they had just stood. Something had stood. Something.

What the hell was I doing on top of this rusty contraption?

Climbing down gingerly, I wiped my dirty palms on my trousers and headed home.

 

***

 

I crawled through the hidden passageway that led back into Shelter. I reached the grate that opened up into Corridor 4 and waited, listening. There wasn’t usually anyone about at this time, but you never knew. After long minutes of absolute silence, I knocked aside the grate and slid into the corridor, landing lightly on my feet.

I moved the grate back into place, then pushed in the rusty screws to make them look like they were snug in their holes.

Straightening my shirt and brushing off my trousers, I made my way back to my quarters.

If I thought I’d gotten off scot-free for my little escapade, then I was sadly mistaken.

Clay sat on my bed, his face dark with anger.

Shit.

“What the hell, Ash? What. The. Hell?”

Crap! Time to do some damage control.

I plastered a contrite expression on my face, ready to do the pleading thing, but he held up his hand.

“Don’t even go there. You’re not sorry. I know it, you know it, and the whole fucking world knows it. What I want to know is why. You got what you wanted. You’re a Reaper, so why take these unnecessary risks?”

I felt the first spark of anger. “Why? Because someone has to! The bimonthly reaps aren’t cutting it. Everyone knows it. Someone has to take the risk. Remember the penicillin, the iodine, the—”

“Yes! I remember. You found some important stuff, but—”

“And I didn’t go over the Horizon to do it. I’m not bleedin’ suicidal. I was careful. Nothing saw me and I didn’t see any of . . . them.” Some memory skittered under the surface of my mind but was gone too quick to catch.

Clay rubbed his face with his hand, his shoulders rising and falling in a heartfelt sigh, and I felt the guilt heavy on my chest. I was his burden. His little sister, the one he’d sworn to protect. I didn’t make it easy.

Older than me by five minutes, Clay had seamlessly stepped into our parents’ shoes after they died five years ago. We’d been barely fourteen at the time. Clay had taken their deaths as an inevitability. He’d said good-bye, buried them, and then turned his attention to taking care of me. Sod that! I’d been pissed off and incensed by the unfairness of it because, as far as I was concerned, they’d chosen to die. Food and shelter had been less than a mile away; all they’d had to do was claim it. All they’d had to do was volunteer for the academy, become Reapers, and we would have been clothed and fed and sheltered. But they’d been afraid, weak, and they’d died. Yes, I’d been angry. So angry that I’d done the one thing that they’d never wanted either Clay or me to do. I’d signed up to be a Reaper.

Reaper status meant food. It meant lodging. It meant safety. It had come too late for my parents, but I was determined not to lose Clay to their skewed convictions. Clay couldn’t bring himself to break the vow we’d made to them, though; thank goodness Shelter needed able-bodied men to train in the tech side of things. Clay always had an affinity for building shit, so here we were five years later—Clay a head Technician and me a seasoned Reaper. The tech we had here was primitive, but he managed to keep the lights on and the heat running, and that’s all we could ask for.

“Ashling?”

“Huh?”

“Go to bed.” He stood and moved toward the door.

He was disappointed in me. I hated it. I couldn’t leave things like this between us. As he brushed past, I turned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He tensed and then relaxed. His arms wrapped around me and he squeezed me tight.

“Please, Ash, just follow protocol, ’kay?”

I nodded against his chest, and yes, I really meant to keep my promise. I always do . . . until next time.

He released me and ruffled my hair.

“Say ’night to Blake.” I smiled up at him coquettishly.

He blushed. “Will do.”

It was sweet the way those two were still so gaga over each other. They’d been dating for just over a year now, and they acted like a married couple. Clay had even moved into Blake’s quarters, and yet he still blushed when I mentioned Blake’s name.

Sweet.

He pecked me on the forehead and then left me to it.

A yawn ripped through me, and I stretched and threw myself onto my rumpled bed. My quarters were small and boxy, but they were mine. Pictures from old magazines I’d found on my scavenging trips decorated the walls: cars and paradise settings, gardens and sunsets, and lovers holding hands. These were memories that I’d never have. They lulled me to sleep, and sometimes I’d find myself on a beach somewhere, waves lapping at my toes, or maybe in a beautiful garden, the scent of roses sweet and strong in my nose. I didn’t know if what I dreamt held any similarity to how it used to be. How could I? I’ve never smelled a rose or walked on the beach, but the dreams kept my spirits alive, and sometimes he joined me—the man who didn’t speak.

The first time it happened, I was frightened. I mean, some strange bloke walks into my dream and just hangs out? It was creepy, but I soon started to feel okay with it. In fact, he’d become a kind of friend now . . . I think.

My eyelids were starting to get heavy, so I closed them, exhaling long and deep, and let sleep take me.

 

Robyn Silver: The Midnight Chimes by Paula Harrison – Blog Tour

For today’s stop on Robyn Silver: The Midnight Chimes Blog Tour I will be reviewing this enjoyable middle grade story.

The Midnight Chimes

Synopsis

Life was very ordinary for ten-year-old Robyn Silver. The often-ignored middle child in a big family, the most excitement she had was the dash to the dinner table to reach the last slice of pizza. Until… she begins to see creepy creatures around her town – creatures that are invisible to everyone else. And when her school is forced to decamp to mysterious Grimdean House and she meets its equally mysterious owner, Mr Cryptorum, Robyn finds herself catapulted headfirst into an extraordinary adventure – with more excitement than she could possibly have imagined. Be careful what you wish for…

This book is out tomorrow so add to your Goodreads list and buy from your favourite retailer

Author

Paula Harrion profile photo

Paula Harrison is a best-selling children’s author, with worldwide sales of over one million copies. Her books include The Rescue Princesses series. She wanted to be a writer from a young age but spent many happy years being a primary school teacher first.

 

Website: http://paulaharrison.jimdo.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/P_Harrison99

What I Thought

I would describe this as The Mortal Instruments for the younger reader – all the training, but not the romance (friendship instead). The storyline is very much a chosen one situation but this time our heroine isn’t alone in her discovery of a new world filled with monsters. I would say it took me a little while to get into this but once vampires were introduced the drama increased and I whipped through the rest of the tale, and was left hoping that there is more to come.

If you like the cover art – and what’s not to like – you will want to grab a hardcopy of this book because each chapter starts with a superb illustration by Renée Kurilla, and the book finishes with a mini monster compendium of all the weird creatures Robyn and her friends face.

The use of chapter titles had me in two minds, on one hand they are quite ‘telly’ giving you a heads up about what is to come and on the other I’d say they were almost like the summary headings a ten year old might put in a diary. I think younger readers will be fine with them though.

I loved all the main children characters from fiesty Robyn, her sweet younger sister Annie and her recorder!!!, Robyn’s best friend, dyslexic inventor, Aiden and bookish Nora. The children really do lead this with a few adult characters around to show them the way. They also learn to be very very careful of what you wish for – especially where sweets are involved.

There are plenty of surprises and some excellent scope for a longer series. I’d recommend this to readers that love middle grade and that enjoy urban supernatural fantasies where a hidden world exists alongside our own.

Follow the Blog Tour

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