tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31452372118455274912024-03-13T07:17:18.842-05:00Into the TempestTracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.comBlogger153125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-42747681529573649902014-04-03T09:32:00.005-05:002014-04-03T09:36:31.585-05:00The Spring YA Scavenger Hunt is Here!!!!!!<div class="MsoNormal">
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Hi Everyone! </div>
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I’m crazy excited to be part of the YA Scavenger Hunt again
this Spring.<br />
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The amazing Colleen Houck organized this hunt
as a way to give readers a chance to gain access to exclusive bonus
material from their favorite authors...and a chance to win some awesome
prizes! At this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from
each author, you also get a clue for the hunt. Add up the clues, and you
can enter for our prize--one lucky winner will receive <b>one signed book from each author on the hunt in my team</b>!<b> </b>But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online for 72 hours! This time, I’m a member of
the <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">RED team</span></span> (the best team, LOL ;) and am hosting the amazing and fabulous <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.teralynnchilds.com/" target="_blank">Tera Lynn Childs</a></span>. She’s a terrific writer
and the fun playlist she's contributed fits her awesome, wonderful, fantastic book perfectly!<br />
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<b>Go to the <a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">YA Scavenger Hunt</a> page to find out all about the hunt. </b>There are THREE contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or all! I am a part of the<b> <span style="color: red;">Red team</span></b>--but there is also a blue team for a chance to win a whole different set of signed books!<br />
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If you'd like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the
authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go
to<a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/p/stuck.html"> the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage</a><a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">.
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<b>SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE</b></div>
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<b>Directions:</b> Below, you'll notice that I've listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on the <span style="color: red;">red team</span>, and then add them up (don't worry, you can use a calculator!). </div>
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<b>Entry Form:</b> Once you've added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize<a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/p/enter-here.html" target="_blank">http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/p/enter-here.html</a>. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.</div>
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<b>Rules:</b> Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should
have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be eligible for the
grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by <b><span style="color: magenta;">DATE</span></b>, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.</div>
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<b>SCAVENGER HUNT POST</b></div>
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<b>Today, I'm hosting <a href="http://www.teralynnchilds.com/" target="_blank">Tera Lynn Childs</a> on my blog for the YA Scavenger Hunt! </b></div>
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Today, I am hosting <span style="color: magenta;">Tera Lynn Childs</span> on my website for the YA Scavenger Hunt! Tera is one of my dearest friends and I am thrilled beyond measure to have her here on my blog :)<br />
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<a href="http://teralynnchilds.com/wp-content/uploads/TLC_cropLg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://teralynnchilds.com/wp-content/uploads/TLC_cropLg1.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: arial,sans,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">T</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial,sans,sans-serif; text-align: left;">era Lynn Childs is the RITA-award-winning author of the mythology-based Oh.My. Gods. and Goddess Boot Camp, the mermaid tales Forgive My Fins, Fins Are Forever and Just For Fins, and a kick-butt trilogy about monster-hunting descendants of Medusa that includes Sweet Venom, Sweet Shadows, and Sweet Legacy. She has published two e-novellas, Goddess In Time and Pretty In Pearls, and self-published her City Chicks sweet chick lit series. Tera lives nowhere in particular and spends her time writing wherever she can find a comfy chair and a steady stream of caffeinated beverages.</span></span></div>
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You can find out more about her fabulous book, Pretty in Pearls, from the Forgive My Fins, series <a href="http://teralynnchilds.com/books/pretty-in-pearls/" target="_blank">here</a>!<br />
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: arial,sans,sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></b>
<a href="http://teralynnchilds.com/wp-content/uploads/PrettyInPearls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://teralynnchilds.com/wp-content/uploads/PrettyInPearls.jpg" height="400" width="263" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: arial,sans,sans-serif; text-align: left;">As
Princess Lily’s emissary, Peri works hard to make sure her best friend
knows all the goings on in the underwater kingdom of Thalassinia. The
upcoming Sea Harvest Dance means plenty of fun for them, too, including
shopping for jewels, trims, and dress making supplies. Peri especially
loves the pearls she finds at Thalassinia’s marketplace—and she might be
falling head over fins for Riatus, the thoughtful pearl trader who
looks like a dashing pirate.<br /><br />When Lily realizes her friend has a
crush, she is determined to help them get together in time for the
dance—except her matchmaking efforts backfire, sweeping Peri into
dangerous depths and tangled in confusing tides. Should Peri give up on
Riatus and find a different date to the Sea Harvest Dance, or will they
finally find a way to float along the same current?</span></span></div>
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<b>EXCLUSIVE CONTENT</b></div>
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And don't forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of signed books including Doomed, by me, <a href="http://www.tracydeebs.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">Tracy Deebs</span></a>, and more! To enter, you need to know that my favorite number is<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <b>5.</b></span></span><br />
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To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need to check out the next author, <a href="http://www.amberargyle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Amber Argyle</a>.<br />
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Have Fun and thanks for playing!!!! </div>
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<br />Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-71210253008642559832013-10-03T12:43:00.003-05:002013-10-06T16:37:49.133-05:00YA Scavenger Hunt is FINALLY Here!<div class="MsoNormal">
Hi Everyone! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m crazy excited to be part of the YA Scavenger Hunt again
this Fall. This time, I’m a member of
the <span style="color: #7f6000;">GOLD team</span> (the best team, LOL ;) and am hosting the amazing and fabulous
Eliza Tilton. She’s a terrific writer
and the exclusive content below has me chomping at the bit to get my hand’s on
her book!<o:p></o:p></div>
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THE YA SCAVENGER HUNT IS NOW CLOSED! THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED :)</div>
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Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-23631870392639062122013-03-01T06:47:00.002-06:002013-03-01T06:47:42.030-06:00New Snippet from Tempest Revealed!!!Hi Guys,<br />
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Since it's Friday and I just finished a final run through of the Tempest Revealed page proofs, I thought I'd put a quick new snippet up for you. Hope you enjoy :) And if you're in the area, don't forget to come see me this weekend in San Antonio and Austin. The times and places are below this post :)<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-90Dj1VcLVR8/UTCjTtE83yI/AAAAAAAAAho/q_6LMqX4ldc/s1600/tempest+revealed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-90Dj1VcLVR8/UTCjTtE83yI/AAAAAAAAAho/q_6LMqX4ldc/s400/tempest+revealed.jpg" width="263" /></a>As soon as Mark had disappeared into the crowd, Logan turned to me and, in the smarmiest voice possible, said, “Finally.Alone at last. I thought he’d never leave.”<br />
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I laughed. “If by alone you mean in the middle of three thousand people, then yes, we’re alone.”<br />
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“That’s exactly what I meant. And since we’re all by ourselves . . .” He nudged me with his shoulder until I got the message and scooted over into Mark’s spot. He followed me, moving until there was an obvious gap between the others and us. With the noise of the game all around us, we might as well<br />
have been in our own little world.<br />
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“Since we’re alone?” I prompted, too amused to be wary. This was Logan and I knew he would never say or do anything to hurt me.<br />
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“Are you going to tell me where you’ve really been for the last year? Because if you’ve been surfing the North Shore then I’m the biggest Barney on the block. And darlin’, I’m nobody’s Barney.”<br />
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It’s true, he wasn’t. Logan knew me better than almost anyone. Lying to him this last year hadn’t been easy, despite all my absences, but I hadn’t had a choice. I still didn’t. I’d already violated Pacific law by telling Mark what I was. Adding Logan to the mix was out of the question.<br />
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I started to laugh his questions off, to tell him he was being ridiculous, but the look on his face said he was calling my bluff, even before I offered it. His deep blue eyes were steady on mine, his mouth set in a straight line completely unlike the smile he usually wore. And his body language, his serious, no bullshit demeanor, told me there was only one right answer to this question.<br />
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The truth.<br />
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Have a great Friday :)<br />
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<br />Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-88959951787347737042013-02-25T07:58:00.001-06:002013-02-25T07:58:42.732-06:00Booksignings this Weekend!!!Hi Everyone :)<br />
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I'm thrilled to announce two booksignings I'm involved with this coming weekend. First off, I'll be on a panel and doing a signing with the awesome Mary Lindsay, Jordan Dane and Emily McKay in San Antonio at the <a href="http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/event/4243013">La Cantera Barnes and Noble.</a> That signing is set up for 12 o'clock on March 2nd.<br />
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Then I'll be signing in Austin, at the <a href="http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/store/2943">Lakeline Crossing Barnes and Noble</a>, Sunday, March 3rd at 2 p.m. with Mari Mancusi, Mary Lindsay and Emily McKay.<br />
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I'll be signing Soulbound, Doomed and the Tempest series, at each bookstore, so stop by and see me. I 'll have lots of fun swag and some cool stories to tell. And chocolate. It's not a booksigning without chocolate ;)Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-23178793905523411022013-02-13T06:32:00.002-06:002013-02-13T06:32:29.436-06:00Books I'm LovingHi Everyone, sorry for the delay in announcing Friday's winner but I have been sick, sick, sick :( So, with no further ado, the winner of the prize pack is Grace!!! Email me at tracydeebs@gmail.com to claim your prize.<br />
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Today, I thought I'd do a quick post about books I'm absolutely loving right now, so here goes:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yC20baK5FKg/URuHv1PxlbI/AAAAAAAAAhY/RribA5W6xE0/s1600/homeland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yC20baK5FKg/URuHv1PxlbI/AAAAAAAAAhY/RribA5W6xE0/s200/homeland.jpg" width="140" /></a>Homeland by Cory Doctorow: If you read nothing else this month, read this book. Or, it's predecessor, Little Brother. Cory is an amazing writer and he has the knack of creating conflicted characters who are truly, deep-down good even when they are terrified. Seriously-- this is one of my favorite series. EVER.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UEqz0mGKA1w/URuHIc8xoqI/AAAAAAAAAhI/JF9touyKGVU/s1600/BestNight_BOM_CVR-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UEqz0mGKA1w/URuHIc8xoqI/AAAAAAAAAhI/JF9touyKGVU/s200/BestNight_BOM_CVR-200x300.jpg" width="133" /></a>The Best Night of Your (Pathetic) Life by Tara Altebrando: I fell in love with Tara's writing when I got an ARC of The Dreamland Social Club right around the time that Tempest Rising was hitting the shelves. When I saw her second book on the shelves the other day, I picked it up with a huge squee of delight-- and ran home to read it as fast as I could. The story of a kick-ass senior scavenger hunt, it's a lot of fun and yet very reflective as well.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-55O_w-OmUw4/URuHKwADdzI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/3PVHKiOt9_k/s1600/the+farm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-55O_w-OmUw4/URuHKwADdzI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/3PVHKiOt9_k/s200/the+farm.jpg" width="133" /></a>The Farm by Emily McKay: Have to put this on here because it's SUCH A GOOD BOOK. Yes, Emily is a dear friend of mine and yes I would pimp her book even if I didn't like it, but honestly, this book is amazing. Interesting, well-written, with some great edge-of-your-seat thrills. And Carter. OMG, Carter. Enough said.<br />
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Hope these books help get you over the whole middle of the week doldrums. Happy Wednesday!Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-83346702969471031342013-02-08T06:52:00.001-06:002013-02-08T06:52:09.443-06:00Let's Have Some Fun Today!Hi guys,<br />
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Thought I'd shake things up a little bit today, with a few snippets from my books and a fun giveaway. But before we get to that, I'm going to be at the <a href="http://freshfiction.com/">Fresh Fiction Teen Event in Dallas</a> this weekend with a ton of other YA authors. Come see me if you get the chance :)<br />
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<strong><u>From Tempest Revealed:</u></strong><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sQxhxEZg1aU/URT0tA5vFTI/AAAAAAAAAgo/JuZPUWpcVv8/s1600/tempest+revealed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sQxhxEZg1aU/URT0tA5vFTI/AAAAAAAAAgo/JuZPUWpcVv8/s400/tempest+revealed.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
wanted to walk,” I told him, making sure not to touch him as I stepped away
from Mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So let’s walk.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Kona
nodded, then led the way down to the water. As soon as my feet touched the
surf, my power welled up inside of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
could feel it pushing up against the walls I used to cage it, pouring through
cracks in my defenses until my entire body felt like it was burning up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
glanced down, realized with a sinking heart that I was glowing, the phosphorescence
that allowed mercreatures to see each other when deep in the ocean spinning out
of my control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually I could tamp it
down when I was on land, lock it away deep inside myself, but tonight that
seemed to be beyond my command.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like so
much of the rest of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
looked behind me, saw that Mark was staring at the purple luminosity that surrounded
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told myself that it was a good thing,
that visual reminders of how different I was could only help convince Mark that
we weren’t right for each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
knowing all that didn’t keep my stomach twisting sickly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What’s
wrong, Tempest?” Kona asked snidely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Mark not so down with your mermaid side?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mark
and I are just fine, thank you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,
I can see that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned away, looked
out at the ocean and I regretted the churlish words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no business rubbing my relationship
with Mark in his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not when I knew
how much it hurt him—and not when he had done nothing but try to make my whole
transition to being mermaid easier for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Look,
I’m sorry,” I told him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t mean—”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
made a dismissive sound low in his throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“It doesn’t seem like there’s much you do mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right, Tempest?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What
are you trying to say?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
just stared at me, his enigmatic silver eyes swirling with a mixture of rage
and power and some other emotion I couldn’t begin to identify.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
sighed in response, frustrated with him and the entire situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Fine, if you aren’t going to answer me, can
we at least talk about whatever it is you want to discuss?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You came all this way to say it, so it must
be important.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
was quiet for so long that I started to think he wasn’t going to answer
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he said the two words I’d been
fearing since I first saw him towering above Mark and me on the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hailana’s
dead.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><strong><u>From Doomed:</u></strong></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-add-space: auto; tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 4.75in; text-indent: 0in;">
“We’ve got to do
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t just sit here!” I
whisper loudly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The mother screams again and
I’m out of the car before I can think twice about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then,
so is Theo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as I do it, I know it’s
a bad move, know we’re probably going to end up getting hurt, but I can’t just
sit here and do nothing while those bastards hurt whoever they want.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Stop it,” I yell, charging across
the highway towards them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe if we’re
lucky, more people will step up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
can’t stand against all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Leave
her alone.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p02gv0_oOXw/URT00eW3aZI/AAAAAAAAAgw/JaHcx5II3pc/s1600/doomed3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p02gv0_oOXw/URT00eW3aZI/AAAAAAAAAgw/JaHcx5II3pc/s400/doomed3.jpg" width="265" /></a><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> T</span>he two men turn to glare at me, and
I freeze under their stares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t
help it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never seen such dead eyes
in my entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be no
reasoning with them, no talking them out of leaving her alone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t even have a weapon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Their gazes rake me from top to
bottom, and I feel the chill all the way down my spine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eli was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re not going to be content to just hurt
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, I won’t back down, won’t show
fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like with any wild animal, it’s
the kiss of death.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know Theo’s right next to me. I can
feel the warmth radiating from his body. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Behind us, Eli is rummaging in the car for
something—I don’t know what.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 4.75in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t worry, darlin’,” one of them
says in a mockery of a Southern drawl that makes my skin crawl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’ll be plenty left for you when we’re
done with her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He comes closer and Theo grows even
tenser, though I didn’t know that was possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He thrusts me behind him, stands up to his full height of six foot eight
inches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And just watches, his face as
blank and intimidating as ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
he’s scared, can feel the fine tremor shaking him, but he doesn’t back down an
inch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Isn’t robbing them enough?” Theo
asks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get what you need and move on.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The second man points a pistol at
Theo, cocks it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A scream wells up inside
of me, an apology for putting us in this situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Already the other men have finished whatever
they were doing up ahead, and are coming towards us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to get back in the car before they reach
us, but it’s already too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it
is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There’s no way they’re going to let
us just walk out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why don’t you get back in the car,
son?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t want to tangle with
us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This from the man with the gun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m already tangling with you and
you need to let that woman go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What I need is to let Mike here
shoot your oversized ass.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>An older man fumbles out of the car
behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Leave those kids alone!” he
shouts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Really, Grandpa?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you going to stop us?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two more men get out of their cars
and join us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’ve got what you
wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now leave us alone,” the first
one says.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 4.75in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The two bikers exchange a look, like
they know things are getting out of hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Eli’s behind me now, and he grabs my shoulder, tries to shove me back
towards the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get in, Pandora.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Believe me, I want to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But standing here, watching these assholes
figure out that things aren’t going to be as easy as they expect them to, makes
me understand the power of numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
the power of speaking up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not going
to hide until they turn around and leave that woman, and these people, alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: .5in 1.0in 1.5in 4.75in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Look, I’m going to give you one
more chance,” the biker with the gun growls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“And then someone’s going to die.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He waves the gun around, pointing it at all of us in turn before
focusing it on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My friends are
almost here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get back in your cars and
you won’t be hurt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know he’s right, can hear the
other members of his gang running towards us, cursing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t look, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m spellbound as I stare down the barrel of the gun pointed right at my
chest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Leave us alone!” someone else
yells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I can see it in the way the
gun shifts, feel it in the hate emanating from the man pointing it at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m about to die.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I start to drop to the ground at the
same time Theo broadsides me, knocking me halfway to hell and back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hit the ground hard, Theo on top of me,
just as four shots ring out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<strong>Now for the giveaway: Leave a comment about your favorite book so far of 2013 and be entered to win a bunch of fun Victoria's Secret bath stuff (shower gel, bubble bath, lotion, make-up) and an autographed copy of Emily McKay's The Farm, Ivy Adam's The International Kissing Club and one of my books (your choice).</strong></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span> </div>
Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-5527965722798013572013-02-06T08:05:00.000-06:002013-02-06T08:05:00.805-06:00Another Soulbound Excerpt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JrDVJfXSQNM/URJjARB9Y4I/AAAAAAAAAgY/mUHQI_4hnTQ/s1600/Soulbound2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JrDVJfXSQNM/URJjARB9Y4I/AAAAAAAAAgY/mUHQI_4hnTQ/s320/Soulbound2.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
Here's another tidbit from Soulbound. Remember to leave a comment to be entered to win a signed copy of Doomed and a gift card from BN or Amazon!<br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I turn, keep walking. A cab drives by, its <span style="font-variant: small-caps;">For Hire</span> sign lit up, and I tell myself
to hail it. To climb in and let it speed me home. It’s the smart thing to do,
the safe thing, as both the rain and the wind are picking up. And yet I can’t
bring myself to do it. The same electricity that made it impossible for me to
sit still in the theater makes it impossible now for me to do anything but keep
walking.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Lightning splits the sky, lighting up the desolate street
and scaring the crap out of me. I don’t know how a street can look worse when
it’s illuminated by lightning than it does in the eerie glow of a very few
streetlights, but somehow this one does. It doesn’t help that Cesar Chavez,
while bustling during the day, is all but deserted at this time of night—the
occasional car my only company.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I start to run, which is really more of an awkward jog in
Lily’s high heels. Part of me is terrified that I’ll slide on the slippery
street and plunge headfirst into the path of one of those few cars, but I’m
even more terrified of the lightning that is exploding all around me while
thunder rumbles nonstop in the background.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I know I need to get out of the rain, know this kind of
lightning could be deadly. But somehow all the logical parts of my brain—the
parts that should be in control of my decision making process—are shorting out
at once. Instead, I can’t do anything but continue walking, following the
inexorable pull down this street toward goddess only knows what.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I cross side street after side street, huddling against
buildings and under awnings when I can get the shelter. More than once a cab
slows as if to pick me up, but I wave it on. I don’t understand how I know
this, but where I’m going no cab can take me.<o:p></o:p></div>
Finally the compulsion drags me to the right. I cross the
street and start up Pleasant Valley toward the lake. And just that suddenly I
know where it is I’m heading. To Town Lake.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I just wish I knew why.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I see it, up ahead, and I know I’m right. Especially when
my entire body starts to pulse with the need to hurry, the need to be there
now.<o:p></o:p></div>
Strangely, it’s the urgency that sets me off, that makes me
remember. When I do, the true fear sets in, a living breathing nightmare inside
of me that feeds on the knowledge and chokes the very air from my lungs.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
And still I don’t stop.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’m almost to the lake now and I stumble off the sidewalk,
head for the grassy knoll that sits a few feet from the water. The ground is
soaked from the storm and my heels immediately sink into the earth until every
step is a challenge. I wince at the sucking sound that comes every time I pull
my foot out of the earth, then cringe more every time I put it back down and the
earth draws it under.<o:p></o:p></div>
Like it isn’t bad enough I walked out of the Paramount with
no explanation to Lily, no text, nothing. When she finds out I ruined her Jimmy
Choos, she’s going to kill me. Slowly and with great relish.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
But even that can’t make me turn back. Nothing can. The
water is calling to me and there’s nowhere to go but forward.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I try to stay on the balls of my feet to protect the shoes
as best I can, but the grass is too slick and the heels too high. Besides, they’re
the only things that give me purchase as I stumble off the grass and onto the
running path that goes around the lake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’m under the bridge now, trying to take what little
shelter it provides. The rain is slashing in at an angle, slamming against me
despite the coverage. Still, it’s better than being out in the full force of
the storm—and at least I’m less likely to be struck by lightning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I pause, take a second to brush my drenched hair back from
my forehead and rub a palm down my face to squeegee the rain from my eyes. I
expect to feel a wave of relief, but the chest-clenching drive to get to the
water doesn’t let up. This isn’t where I’m meant to stop. Hiding here under the
bridge isn’t enough. I take a step closer to the lake. And then another.<o:p></o:p></div>
As I do, the wind caterwauls through the place, stirring up
the sickly cloying smell of guano. Though the bats haven’t migrated back from
Mexico yet, years and years of the stuff layers the area, creating a stench
that not even the storm can chase away. Usually the scent makes me ill, but tonight
it doesn’t repel me the way that it should. Though I’m having trouble breathing
through my nose, I have no urge to flee. Instead, I want to go closer.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> to go
closer.<o:p></o:p></div>
Grabbing on to a tree branch, I use it to steady myself as
I creep down the slope to the water’s edge. The fear is bigger now, nearly
all-consuming. Not for myself, not about what will happen to me, but for what’s
drawing me in. For what I might find down here under this bridge. I don’t know
what I’m doing down here, don’t know what spell I’m under that has brought me
here. But something has and somehow I don’t think it’s for the midwinter view.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Unable to bear the suspense any longer, I drop to my knees
by the edge of the water. Muck squishes under my jeans, causing me to slide a
little as I bend forward to peer into the lake. I don’t see anything, despite
the lights stationed every few yards on the running path, and I fumble for the
flashlight on my key chain.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I shine the small beam at the water, then jump when I see
my reflection on the surface. For a second, I’m surprised that it’s bright
enough to see anything shining off the rippling water, even if the reflection
is little more than a pale oval and tangled fan of short, black hair. Except
the longer I look at it, the more I realize the mirror image is all wrong. It’s
upside down and her eyes are closed. No, not a mirror image I realize as the
water smooths out. Not a reflection at all. The face I see in the lake belongs
to someone else entirely.<o:p></o:p></div>
Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-50692220973372018412013-02-05T09:59:00.000-06:002013-02-05T10:17:03.752-06:00Book Birthday for Soulbound!!!!!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WoHRlE9M8uc/UREr4TunXaI/AAAAAAAAAgI/tHRe2MSbQeY/s1600/Soulbound2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WoHRlE9M8uc/UREr4TunXaI/AAAAAAAAAgI/tHRe2MSbQeY/s400/Soulbound2.jpg" width="247" /></a>Yay! My baby is finally on the shelf-- I can't tell you how excited I am that Xandra's story is finally out! And also, today is my real baby's birthday. My oldest turns sixteen today, which is really, really hard for me to imagine (yes, I was a child bride ;) He's celebrating with the keys to a car and I'm celebrating by freaking out, LOL.<br />
<br />
<strong>But back to Soulbound. Here's today's excerpt. And don't forget to comment, tweet and/or FB about it to get extra points for the gift card and book giveaway!!!!</strong><br />
<br />
Have a great Tuesday :)<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Excerpt #2:</u></strong><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is something wrong?”
he finally asks, letting his hand fall back to his side. There’s no impatience
in the question, no condescension. Just an honest concern that has me forgetting
the whispers about him. Or at least putting them aside for a while. Despite my
best intentions, I lower my guard.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“You mean besides the fact that I just humiliated myself in
front of my entire coven?” I answer, settling down beside him as he takes off
his socks and shoes.<o:p></o:p></div>
“And what looks like a fair amount of outsiders as well,
don’t forget.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
“Gee, thanks. I was totally in danger of forgetting that,
so I appreciate the reminder.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“I do what I can.”<o:p></o:p></div>
“And not a thing more, I bet.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You
need lessons on how to pretend to give a damn.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Oh, I give a damn, Xandra. I just didn’t think you’d want
me to lie to you. I can try, but I warn you, I’m not very good at it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
“Someone like you doesn’t have to be.” I, on the other
hand, have spent my whole life living a lie. Trying to be who my parents want
me to be no matter how hopeless I am at it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Someone like me?” There’s a dangerous note in his voice
now, but I don’t care. I’m feeling reckless.<o:p></o:p></div>
“I’m not stupid. I know who you are. Someone like you doesn’t
have to answer to anyone.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
This time it’s his eyes that narrow. “You’d be surprised.”<o:p></o:p></div>
To the side of us a peach tree bursts into flame. For a
moment, Declan looks stunned, like he can’t imagine how it happened. I wonder
what that would be like, to have so much power that it could just leak out like
that without me even noticing. I don’t think I’d like it—I’m too much of a
control freak.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
A second later, the fire goes out as suddenly as it
started. He doesn’t say anything else and neither do I. Instead, we just sit
here, the tension between us ratcheting up with each minute that passes.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“So, why did you come?” I finally ask. “You don’t know my
family, don’t know me. You aren’t even part of our coven. So why did you travel
halfway around the world—”<o:p></o:p></div>
“Halfway across the country, not the world. I was in New
York before this.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Whatever.” I couldn’t care less about semantics when there
are questions I want answers to. “So why, out of all the places you could be
right now, did you choose to be here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
“Because you’re here.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
My gaze jumps to his. I’ve been careful not to look him in
the eye since those first moments, scared of what I might find. Now, I know
that fear is justified. Power—overwhelming, unimaginable power—swirls in the
obsidian depths and I can’t look away. I’m pinned, as trapped here as I was
back there on that stage. More so, really, because here it feels like there’s
no escape route. No back door to scuttle out of. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nowhere to run.<o:p></o:p></div>
I desperately want to look away. But the pull is intense,
like he’s reached out and grabbed me and there’s nothing I can do about it.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’m playing prey to his predator.<o:p></o:p></div>
Even worse, there’s a strange lethargy pulsing through me. Pulling
me into him. Pulling me under. I start to fall . . .<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
No! I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I won’t be
anyone’s pawn. Not anymore. When I jumped off that stage tonight and ran away,
I started a new path for myself. A new life. Instinctively, I know that this
isn’t it.<o:p></o:p></div>
I finally find the strength to wrench my gaze from his and
as I do, I feel this pop, like I’ve ruptured something deep inside. I gasp,
wrap my arms around myself in an instinctive bid for comfort. Declan doesn’t
react at all, doesn’t move a muscle, but I think he felt it too.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
When silver sparks of energy whip through the air around
us, I’m sure of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
Reaching a hand out, I capture one of the sparks. I can’t
stop myself. I want to know, for just a second, what that kind of power feels
like. It sizzles against my skin, crackling and spitting, burning me, until I
open my fingers and let what’s left of the spark fall back out into the air.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
My palm throbs where it touched me, white hot and painful. It
takes all my energy not to flinch, but I manage it. It’s my turn not to react. Except,
Declan knows—just as I did with him. He reaches out, gently cups my hand in his
own. Strokes the fingers of his other hand lightly over the burn.<o:p></o:p></div>
It should have been smooth, easy, but the second his skin
brushes against my palm, the entire world ignites. Fragments of memories I
shouldn’t have rush at me—terrifying, fascinating, <span class="ITAL"><em>compelling</em></span>.
I close my eyes, try to block them out, but they’re still there behind my
eyelids. Still there, deep in my mind as every nerve ending I have lights up
like it’s Christmas at Rockefeller Center.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I order myself to pull away, to break the connection this
one last time, but I can’t do it. The pleasure, woven as it is amidst the pain,
staggers me and I can’t do anything but sit there and soak it all in.<o:p></o:p></div>
The pain dissipates as suddenly as it came, but in its
place . . . in its place is a silver Seba, identical in all but
color to the one on Declan’s neck.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“What did you do?” I gasp, looking at the new mark on my
palm. It shimmers in the moonlight, is the most beautiful—and frightening—thing
I’ve ever seen.<o:p></o:p></div>
“That wasn’t me, Xandra.” But he looks shaken as his
fingers close around mine in a grip so possessive it makes my breath catch in
my throat. I start to pull back—this is too weird, even for the daughter of
witch royalty—but then I realize his hand is shaking even worse than mine. It’s
enough, that hint of vulnerability, to keep me here when every instinct I have
screams at me to flee.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“What—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat, try again. “What’s
happening?” The sparks aren’t stopping. In fact, they’re spinning all around us
like a freak, midsummer snow flurry—growing hotter, more plentiful, the longer
we’re touching.<o:p></o:p></div>
Declan doesn’t answer, just shakes his head. I get the
impression, right or wrong, that for all his power and experience he doesn’t
know what’s going on any more than I do. I take a step back and electricity
arcs between us, flowing from him into me and back again.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Every cell in my body is vibrating with it, every nerve
ending screaming with the agony of it. Just when I think it’s over, that the
electricity is going to rip us apart, he does something even more unexpected. He
leans forward, and slowly lowers his mouth to mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Rockefeller
Center turns into Mardi Gras, the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve all rolled
into </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too bad I never thought to
wonder what happens after the ball drops.<o:p></o:p></span>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-10550325887775159332013-02-04T09:33:00.002-06:002013-02-04T09:33:53.898-06:00Soulbound Hits the Shelves Tomorrow!!!!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j66NmTw45BY/UQ_UgJ4nhQI/AAAAAAAAAf4/6zYOHGBT0YU/s1600/soulbound-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j66NmTw45BY/UQ_UgJ4nhQI/AAAAAAAAAf4/6zYOHGBT0YU/s400/soulbound-200x300.jpg" width="266" /></a>Hi Everyone :) Thanks so much to everyone who has been out to see me at booksignings in the last few weeks. It's been awesome to meet all of you.<br />
<br />
Today, I'm excited because the day has finally arrived for my new Urban Fantasy series to hit the shelves. <a href="http://tinyurl.com/afqhj2z">Soulbound</a>, the first book in the Xandra Morgan series, will be out tomorrow and I couldn't be more thrilled. It's a dark, suspensey, witch story that takes place in my current hometown of Austin, Texas and it was a blast to write. I know the name is different-- Tessa Adams vs. Tracy Deebs-- but it's still me, just a psuedonym I write under :)<br />
<br />
<strong>Here's the blurb</strong>:<br />
<br />
<div>
<i>As the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter—and a member of Ipswitch’s
Royal family—Xandra Morgan should be a witch of incredible power. But things
don’t always turn out like you expect… </i><br />
<br />
While she hasn’t lived up to
her family’s expectations, Xandra has come to terms with her latent magic and
made a life for herself in Austin, Texas, running a coffee shop where she makes
potions of a non-magical nature. While things aren’t perfect, Xandra is
happy—until she runs into powerful warlock Declan Chumomisto.<br />
<br />
Xandra
hasn’t seen Declan in years, and though she’s still overwhelmed by his power,
she doesn’t trust him. And when her own powers awaken one night and lead her to
the body of a woman in the woods bearing the symbol of Isis—the same one that
has marked Xandra since the day she met Declan—she’s filled with a terrible
suspicion, soon confirmed: the woman is connected to him. <br />
<br />
Xandra doesn’t
want to believe that Declan is capable of murder, but as the body count mounts,
and Xandra’s own powers spiral out of control, she’s not sure she can trust her
own instincts…</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<strong>And here's an excerpt:</strong></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div class="03COBodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I shouldn’t have drunk the damn tea.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’d known it even as I took the first sip, but when I’d
asked my mother what was in it, she’d sworn it was completely innocuous.
Chamomile. Mint. A touch of lavender for luck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Yeah, right.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
But when I’d scented all three herbs in the cup she’d
handed me, I’d decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And while there’d
been something else in there—something a little sweet that I couldn’t quite
identify at the time—I’d just put it down to the agave syrup my mom’s been
crazy about for months now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’m not a fan of the stuff but my mother looked so anxious,
and so happy to see me after my six month absence from Ipswitch, that I hadn’t
been able to disappoint her. I’d drunk the entire stupid cup in one long gulp
to make up for the unpleasant taste.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I’m paying for it now, big time, which makes me an even
bigger fool today than I was eight years ago. Back then, I’d still been trying
desperately to live up to her expectations of me, to be the witch she wanted me
to be. In the last few years, though, I’ve given up on trying to be something I’m
not and have instead built a life for myself that I’m proud of—away from my
hometown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Away from the magic that is so much a part of this place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Which, I suppose, makes my momentary gullibility more
understandable. It’s been a while since I’ve been around the insanity and I’ve
obviously forgotten how bad it can get. It was a mistake to think that I would
be safe here, even for a couple of days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
After all, from the moment I walked away from Ipswitch and
the magical legacy I had no hopes of living up to, my mother has been desperate
to get me back. She’ll stop at nothing to find a way to unlock the powers I’m
perfectly content without, will do anything to turn me into the Magic Barbie
she’s always wanted me to be. Maybe if I’d remembered that, instead of thinking
about how much I’d missed her, I’d be in better shape now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Live and learn, I suppose. And just to be clear, I’d really
like the chance to live through this. I send the thought out into the universe
even as I wonder if the number for Poison Control is the same as it was when I
was a little kid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I reach for the phone, but it falls to the ground before I
can wrap my hand around it—whether by accident or design, I’m not sure. The
fact that it’s perfectly believable that my mother would have charmed the phone
to prevent me from calling for help is one more glaring piece of evidence
against both of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Idiot, idiot, idiot . . . The word thrums
through my brain, a triple syllable repeating chorus that echoes the three step
cramping in my stomach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Squeeze, tighten, release.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Squeeze, tighten, release.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I-Di-Ot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I didn’t know anything could hurt this much. Had my mother
inadvertently given me too much of whatever this was, or had I simply poisoned
myself by drinking the tea too quickly? I call out for help, then curl myself
into a ball and pray for death. Maybe living isn’t all it’s cracked up to be
after all—at least not if it comes with this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Hey, Xandra, what’s wrong?” my sister Rachael asks from her spot
near the door. Though she normally doesn’t have much use for me, her most
prominent power <span class="ITAL"><em>is</em></span> healing. My illness must have called
to her, overcoming her usual lack of interest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Tea,” is all I manage to say, but it’s enough. She rushes
into the room and lays a cool hand on my forehead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Mom’s crazy,” she tells me. “I swear, your latency has
pushed her completely around the bend.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“What did she give me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
She looks at my pupils, shakes her head. “Best guess?” she
asks grimly. “Belladonna.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
I shudder at the confirmation of my worst fear. Guaranteed
to bring out even the most latent magic—or so the herbal practitioners
promise—belladonna has been a staple in witch gardens for centuries. I know my
mom grows it, but I thought she burned it to get to its essence. Never in a
million years did it occur to me that she would actually go so far as to feed
me the toxic plant. Especially since, so far, the only thing it’s brought out
in me is my breakfast—an experience I really could have done without.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“What do I do?” I ask between cramps, forcing the words out
from between my clenched jaws.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“I’m not sure. I need to look it up, and talk to her, find
out how much she gave you. Probably no more than a berry or two, which isn’t
enough to kill you when brewed in a tea—it’ll just make you really
uncomfortable.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Another pain hits and I pull my legs even tighter against
my stomach. “I think . . . uncomfortable . . . is
an understatement,” I gasp. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“I know, sweetie.” She heads into my bathroom and comes out
a few seconds later with a damp washcloth, which she lays across my forehead. “I’ll
be back in a little while, hopefully with an antidote to make this all go away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“Pilocarpine,” I tell her, because while I’m no good with
actually wielding magic, I’m still up on all the plants and other ingredients
that witches deal with—a leftover from when I was trying to be super-witch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
“I know. I’m just not sure if I can get my hands on any. I
wouldn’t put it past Mom to have gotten rid of all of it before you got here. You
might have to suffer through this without it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Terrific. I grit my teeth against another influx of pain
and swear to myself that I am never coming back here again. I don’t care about
command performances anymore, don’t care how much my mother pleads with me to
return for special occasions. She’s crossed so far over the line this time that
there is no way I’ll be able to overlook it. Winter Solstice or not, I am out
of here the second I feel better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
If I ever do feel better, which seems doubtful right now. The
pain is increasing as the belladonna works its way through my system, and I try
not to think about what’s coming next. Blurred vision, dizziness, hallucinations,
convulsions. Already, I can see the edges of the walls bending, curving in on
me. I tell myself it isn’t real, that it’s just another side effect of the belladonna,
but the truth is I don’t know what’s real anymore and what’s illusion.</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
</div>
<div class="04BodyText" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
There will be more excerpts posted all week, so stop by and see what Soulbound is all about :) And leave a comment for a chance to win a $50 gift card to Amazon or BN and a signed copy of Doomed. Tweet and Facebook about Soulbound for extra chances to win and then let me know about it here. Thanks so much :)</div>
</div>
Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-44049378311343683612013-01-16T16:44:00.000-06:002013-01-16T16:44:46.630-06:00Come See Me at YAK Fest this Saturday!!!Hi Everyone :)<br />
<br />
I'll be speaking on a panel and signing books in Keller, TX (near Dallas) this Saturday with a bunch of other really cool YA authors! Check out the schedule below for more info and if you're in the area, come see me!!!!!<br />
<br />
WHEN: Saturday, January 19, 9am – 5pm <br />COST: FREE.<br />OPEN DOOR: Come when
you can and stay for as long as you like. <br />WHERE: Keller High School, 601 N.
Pate Orr Rd. Keller, TX 76248 <br />SOCIAL MEDIA: twitter / facebook / blog<br /><a href="https://twitter.com/YAK_Fest"><span style="color: #ffc576;">https://twitter.com/YAK_Fest</span></a> (hashtag
#Yakfest13)<br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/YAKbookfest"><span style="color: #ffc576;">https://www.facebook.com/YAKbookfest</span></a>
<br /><a href="http://teacherweb.com/TX/KellerHighSchool/YAKFest/apt1.aspx"><span style="color: #ffc576;">http://teacherweb.com/TX/KellerHighSchool/YAKFest/apt1.aspx</span></a><br /> <a href="http://campus.kellerisd.net/schools/khs-001/Pages/YAKFest.aspx"><span style="color: #ffc576;">http://campus.kellerisd.net/schools/khs-001/Pages/YAKFest.aspx</span></a><br /><br /><br />KEYNOTE
SPEAKER: Simone Elkele<br /><br />Panel Breakdown:<br /><br />Keeping It Real – Jessica
Anderson, Charles Benoit, Chris Crutcher (afternoon only), Simone Elkeles,
Guadalupe Garica McCall, Jessica Warman, Lori Aurelia Williams and Shannon
Greenland<br /><br />This is Not Normal – Rosemary Clement Moore, Cory Oakes,
Victoria Scott, Mary Lindsey and Jeff Hirsch<br /><br />This is Not Normal Either –
Krissi Dallas, Tracy Deebs, Greg Leitich Smith and Andrea White<br /><br />Vampire
Smack Down - Cynthia Leitich Smith, Rachel Caine and Jason
Henderson<br /><br />Poetry Workshop – Colin Gilbert<br /><br />A Walk on the Weird Side
– Kelley Milner Halls<br /><br />Choctaw Tales – Tim Tingle<br /><br />Schedule
(tentative)<br />
<br />
<table border="1" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="2" class="owner" id="ctl00_MainContentPlaceHolder_ctl00_ViewTable" rules="all" style="border-style: inset;">
<tbody>
<tr class="tableHeaderRow">
<th scope="col">Time</th>
<th scope="col">Event</th>
<th scope="col">Location</th></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">9:00 - 10:00</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Doors open; book sales</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Commons</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">10:00 - 10:45</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Keynote- Simone Elkeles, followed by introduction of
authors</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Fine Arts Center</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">10:55 - 11:40</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">select a panel or session</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Lecture Hall, Band Hall, classrooms</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">11:40 - 12:40</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Lunch - food for purchase; Book sales</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Commons</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">12:40 - 1:20</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">select a panel or session</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Lecture Hall, Band Hall, classrooms</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">1:30 - 2:10</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">select a panel or session</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Lecture Hall, Band Hall, classrooms</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">2:20 - 3:00</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">select a panel or session</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Lecture Hall, Band Hall, classrooms</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">3:10 - 3:40</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Poetry reading</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Commons</td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tableHeaderColumn3">3:40 - 5:00</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">book sales; author signing</td>
<td class="tableRowData3">Commons</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There will be books
available for purchase from The Book Carriage, and they will be selling books
all day. The Book Carriage will accept cash and credit cards. You may bring some
books from home for authors to sign. Food and drinks will be available for
purchase at lunch. Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-5807280095604985712013-01-08T07:45:00.000-06:002013-01-08T07:45:06.656-06:00Doomed Release Day!!!!!Hi, Everyone! I'm so excited to host the last day of the Doomed Scavenger Hunt (and am especially excited because today is release day!!!!) So, before I head out to my local bookstore to sign copies of Doomed, I'm posting one more excerpt from the book. Hope you like it! And remember to comment for the chance to win a $75 Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Apple Store gift card :)<br />
<br />
Happy Tuesday!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Eli bursts through the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A bunch of unmarked, black vehicles just
pulled up to the front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to
move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before I even process Eli’s words, Theo’s up, grabbing
the backpacks and my hand <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we’re running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Down the hall and three flights of stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out the back door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I start to flee into the parking lot, but Theo holds
tight to my hand as he drags me against the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We race along the perimeter, Theo in front,
me in the middle and Eli in back, until we get to the corner, where Theo stops
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flattening himself to the
building, he peers around the edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Damn!
There are four of them at the truck—including that jerk from your house,
Pandora.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The information has me reeling, as there’s only one
“jerk” Theo saw at my house—Mackaray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“That means they’re Homeland Security,” I tell them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What are we going to do now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The only thing we can do,” Eli says, heading back the
way we came.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Theo and I exchange frantic looks, but we follow
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he’s got a plan to get us out of
this, I’m more than willing to go along. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looks like Theo is as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We get to the other edge of the building and after checking
to make sure it’s safe, Eli slips around it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What are you doing?” Theo hisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You’re getting us closer to them—“<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sssh.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eli creeps all the way to the front edge of the building
and I follow him, even though I’m also beginning to doubt his sanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We wait, plastered against the building, as eight
agents stand around staring at the window we broke earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guns come out and then most of them are
slipping through the same hole we used to get in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I want to run now, while they’re inside, but Theo holds
me steady against the building, his hand around my wrist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What are we waiting for?” I hiss, and Eli
grins at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a wicked, wild thing,
filled with a strange elation I don’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Grand Theft Auto, anyone? For the second time?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabs my free hand and we’re running
again, straight toward the Homeland Security vehicles instead of away from
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Get in!” he yells, yanking open the driver’s door of the
first one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t let myself think as Theo and I pile into the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eli’s pulling out before we even get the door
closed, flooring it as he drives right past the agents going over our truck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s not the brightest move, but it’s the only one we’ve
got.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sure enough, our escape doesn’t go unnoticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get down,” Eli yells, and Theo shoves me
face first onto the seat, covering me with his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shots ring out and the back windshield, right
where I’d been sitting, shatters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Shit!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eli
swerves back and forth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hit the gas!” Theo yells.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve got the thing floored,” Eli shouts back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just shut up so I can concentrate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The next few minutes pass in a blaze of absolute
terror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t see anything—Theo has me
completely covered—but I can hear plenty and that makes everything worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sirens sound as the remaining Homeland Security guys come
after us, shots ringing out as they pursue us through the empty business park.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where’s the road, where’s the road?” Eli mumbles to
himself as he sends us careening around a corner so fast the SUV takes it on
two wheels.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Up ahead, half a mile,” Theo tells him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We’re not going to make it that far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s only a matter of time before they hit a
tire.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He yanks the car to the left
around another corner and Theo loses his balance, pancakes me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I can’t breathe with him crushing my rib cage and my face
pressed completely into the seat and I struggle against him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sorry, Pandora,” he says a minute later as he pushes
himself up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No problem,” I answer before I realize how absurd we
sound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing like manners in the
middle of a life or death crisis.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We hit the main road just as more shots ring out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hit the side of the car, slamming into
the metal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How are we going to get out of this?” I whisper to Theo,
afraid of distracting Eli.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I don’t know.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His hands are clenched and I know it’s hard for him to sit back here
with me, leaving our fate in Eli’s hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But Eli’s doing a good job, taking turns at breakneck speed, dodging back
and forth among the few cars that are on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Homeland Security is still behind us—I can hear their
sirens—but they don’t seem as close. Eli whips around another corner and hits
the brakes, hard, as he strings together every curse word I’ve ever heard in
the most imaginative way possible. We've driven straight into a mob of angry people.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-74048424440733685192013-01-03T21:51:00.002-06:002013-01-03T21:51:47.872-06:00The Doomed Scavenger Hunt is On!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bAvnvnM3Iso/ULdYDj_f8bI/AAAAAAAAAfE/5bfOvniK0Q8/s1600/doomed3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bAvnvnM3Iso/ULdYDj_f8bI/AAAAAAAAAfE/5bfOvniK0Q8/s400/doomed3.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
Hi Everyone! I can't believe that Doomed comes out in less than a week! I'm excited and thrilled and terrified all at the same time and can't wait to hear what you guys have to say about it.<br />
<br />
To celebrate Doomed's release on January 8, I've put together a fun little blog scavenger hunt. Keep reading for all the details.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;">Welcome to the Doomed Scavenger
Hunt! Over the next eight days, Tracy Deebs and <a href="http://mundiemomsblogtours.blogspot.com/">Mundie Moms</a> are sending you on
a scavenger hunt through eight different blogs. In Doomed, the three main
characters embark on a scavenger hunt that winds itself through a video game and
the real world in order to stop a countdown to nuclear annihilation. Our
scavenger hunt is nowhere near as complicated-- or as scary-- as what Pandora
and her friends have to go on. Instead, all you have to do is visit the eight
sites, read the excerpts and find the hidden number in each of the entries. At
the end of the eight days, add up all eight of the numbers and include them in
the rafflecopter entry spot for the Scavenger Hunt to earn 10 extra entry points
for</span><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"> $75 gift card
to your choice of Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Apple. There are also prizes to
be won at every stop, so make sure to get your entries in and be sure to comment
on each of the blogs to be entered to win. Happy hunting!!!!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;">Here's the schedule: </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/2- <a href="http://mundiemoms.blogspot.com/2013/01/doomed-blog-tour-excerpt-giveaway.html"><span style="color: #d52a33;">Mundie Moms</span></a>, excerpt #1</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/3- <a href="http://www.readingteen.net/">Reading Teen</a>, excerpt
#2</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/4-
Fangirlish, excerpt #3</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/5- Girls In the Stacks,
excerpt #4</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/6- </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/7- I Read Banned Books,
excerpt #6</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/8- Page Turners Blog,
excerpt #7</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1/8- Tracy Deebs, giveaway,
end of the scavenger hunt</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And here's the basic info about Doomed:</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-weight: normal; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pandora's just your average teen-glued to her cell phone and laptop, surfing Facebook and e-mailing with her friends-until the day her long-lost father sends her a link to a mysterious site featuring twelve photos of her as a child. Unable to contain her curiosity, Pandora enters the site, where she is prompted to play her favorite virtual-reality game, Zero Day. This unleashes a global computer virus that plunges the whole world into panic: suddenly, there is no Internet. No cell phones. No utilities, traffic lights, hospitals, law enforcement. Pandora teams up with handsome stepbrothers Eli and Theo to enter the virtual world of Zero Day. Simultaneously, she continues to follow the photographs from her childhood in an attempt to beat the game and track down her father-her one key to saving the world as we know it. Part The Matrix, part retelling of the Pandora myth, Doomed has something for gaming fans, dystopian fans, and romance fans alike.</span></span></span>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-70254921437927095602012-11-29T06:27:00.004-06:002012-12-02T21:32:39.044-06:00YA Scavenger Hunt is Here!!!!!!!<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2wKJ_6YSUzA/ULdSeSnu8KI/AAAAAAAAAew/hTYu0ltP5oA/s1600/scavenger+hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2wKJ_6YSUzA/ULdSeSnu8KI/AAAAAAAAAew/hTYu0ltP5oA/s640/scavenger+hunt.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MeMu8ckHy10/ULhmeGrrKhI/AAAAAAAAAfU/rDgs2sZNlBs/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MeMu8ckHy10/ULhmeGrrKhI/AAAAAAAAAfU/rDgs2sZNlBs/s320/photo.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>
<strong>And for a bunch of chances to win signed copies of <span style="font-size: large;">Tempest Rising and Tempest Unleashed</span>, the first two books in the Tempest Maguire trilogy, <span style="font-size: large;">The International Kissing Club</span> (a book Tracy wrote with Emily Mckay and Shellee Roberts, an ARC of Emily McKay's <span style="font-size: large;">The Farm</span>, plus an</strong> <u><strong><span style="font-size: large;">ARC of Doomed</span></strong></u> <strong>and a fun prize pack with a Farm Backpack and all kinds of Doomed, International Kissing Club and Tempest swag, rack up points by doing one or more of the following:</strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<ol>
<li style="text-align: left;">follow me on Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/TracyWolff">@TracyWolff</a> (1 point)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">get friends to follow me on Twitter (1 point per friend)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">like my Tempest Rising page on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Tempest-Rising/145978145457739">Facebook</a>(1 point)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Like my brand new <a href="http://www.facebook.com/tracydeebsdoomed.">Doomed Facebook page</a></li>
<li style="text-align: left;">get friends to follow me on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Tempest-Rising/145978145457739">Facebook </a>(1 point per friend)</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Follow this blog</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">email me at <a href="mailto:tracydeebs@gmail.com">tracydeebs@gmail.com</a> and let me know you want to be part of my Doomed street team!</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">Leave a comment on this blog post.</li>
</ol>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<strong> Leave me a comment here under this blog post telling me if you like the Tempest Revealed excerpt and how many points to give you. Just leaving a comment counts 1 point. (And if you have done any of 1-6, give me your user names and your friends’ user names so I can credit your points.) The drawing will be random, but the number of points you get determines how many times your name will be put into the hat.</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Tempest Revealed</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
dropped in on the wave just as it crested. As I did, I made the mistake of
looking toward shore—exactly what my dad had told me not to do. I could see him
there, standing under a light and looking out at me. I couldn’t see his
expression, but I figured it wasn’t happy. But if I nailed this wave, all would
be forgiven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
turned to look down at the wave and realized that I couldn’t see anything—the
lights on shore had disrupted my vision, just as my dad had said they would. I
felt a moment of panic at the idea of surfing this wave, which was high enough
that riding its crest felt like being at the top of a mountain. And then it was
too late to do anything but ride as I plummeted down the sheer, flat face of
the most mammoth wave I’d ever ridden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
was amazing, exhilarating, terrifying and awe-inspiring all at the same time. More
than once I thought I was going into the drink, but I managed to hold on—by my
toenails sometimes—until the wave brought me in. I didn’t get as close to shore
as my dad did, didn’t get a chance to shoot the barrel as the wave turned
choppier, started to break up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
jockeyed for position, hung on as long as possible, then dropped out right
before the thing crashed into the surface of the ocean. As the waves bumped me
around some—the water was getting rougher—I fumbled for my board. Once I found
it, I straddled it and let out a war whoop of epic proportions. My dad echoed
it from his spot on the water. He was paddling out to meet me and probably do
the whole crazy thing again, and I couldn’t wait. I’d ridden the hell out of
that wave and couldn’t have been prouder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Grinning,
thrilled with myself and the whole world, I turned toward my dad, wanting to
share my exhilaration with him. He was close enough that I could see his grin
and I smiled back, waved
a little. He was as stoked as I was that I had not let that swell take me down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“That
was awesome, Temp—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
stopped talking mid-sentence, a strange look crossing his face before he
disappeared suddenly beneath the choppy surface of the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What the hell? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Dad!”
I called, but he didn’t answer. Seconds later, I saw his board floating several
feet away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Confusion turned to alarm and I
ditched my board, diving deep between the crests of one wave and the next. As I
did, I blew the air out of my lungs and let my gills take over so that I
wouldn’t have to worry about hitting the surface for air. Though I was
prepared, that first breath of salt water hurt like a bitch as my human lungs
fought instinctively to reject it. I ignored the pain, ignored the messages
that warned me I was drowning, and dived deeper. Swum faster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I did, visions of sharks and
swordfish and even huge, carnivorous seals ripped through my head. As did
images of Tiamat and her vicious pet, the Lusca. Something had my dad—of that I
had no doubt. Now it was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a matter of
finding out if it was just an animal doing what came naturally to it or if it was a darker, more dangerous
force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Smart enough to know I wasn’t going
to be able to find him out here in the dark, I closed my eyes and tried to
focus through the
terror ripping me apart. A couple deep breaths, a little shot of power, and I’d
created a large, encapsulated ball of light that illuminated the ocean around me. I
quickly tethered it to me with another blast of power, so that it moved where I
did, and then I went deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I dove, I didn’t know what to
wish for: a shark could very well have killed my father by now. But then, so could
Tiamat—unless she wanted something from him. Like to use him as bait to make me
swim directly into one of her traps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If it was her, she was getting her
wish because while the logical portion of my brain was shouting warnings at me,
I was paying it absolutely no attention. Sheer terror had seized control of me
and I was bumbling around like a total frube, desperate for some—any—sign of my
father. It had been two and a half, maybe three minutes since he’d been
grabbed. I only had a couple more to find him before brain damage started to
kick in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Freaking out, panicked beyond just
about anything I had ever felt before, I forced myself to surface. To look out
over the black water and try to see if I could spot anything. But there was nothing
but the inevitable push and pull of the waves and the glowing blue of the algae
all around me. In the distance, I could see the lights of my board glowing
purple against the dark water, but there was no sign of my father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And that’s when it registered. While
the ocean all around me was lit up an other-worldly blue, there was a heavy
concentration of the phosphorescent light about thirty feet in front of me. Heavy
enough that it meant something was there right now disturbing the algae.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I shot forward, using every ounce of
power and strength I had to swim faster than I ever had before. I got there in
seconds—I’d never been more thankful for the whole mermaid thing—and then dove
deep, circling the lit up area much like a shark did its prey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And that’s when I saw him, floating
along beneath the surface. His arms were above his head, his legs slightly
open. His eyes were closed, his face lax, and I knew. I just knew that I was
too late. That my father was dead because I hadn’t been strong enough to stop
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I arrowed through the water toward
him, so close to hysteria that I forgot how to breathe through my gills. Instead,
I opened my mouth and ended up gulping in huge swallows of salt water, choking on it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My human body wanted to cough, to
expel the noxious stuff, but I held it down with sheer will alone. If I had any
chance of doing CPR, of getting the water out of his lungs, every second
counted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I reached my father moments later,
wrapped my arms around his waist and used the powerful muscles in my legs,
muscles I’d spent the last year building, to kick us straight up to the
surface.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I broke through the water, I
dragged air into my abused lungs even as I tried to figure out if my dad was
breathing. He wasn’t—of course he wasn’t—so I whirled around in a desperate bid
to find shore. In just the last few minutes the ocean had grown much choppier,
though I didn’t know if it was from the incoming storm or my own freaked out
emotions. It didn’t matter either way, I supposed, not when the end result was
the same. We’d been pushed farther out to sea by the seething, roiling waves,
shore much too far away to reach in time to save my dad, even for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Wrapping my arms around him
again—this time above his waist and below his breastbone—I drove my fist
directly back and into the bottom of his lungs. Water shot from his mouth, so I
did it again and again and again. It was awkward as hell with the waves
building up all around us, but I forced my body to relax. To just ride out the waves. Soon, I
had determinedthe timing of the ocean, and what part of the wave I needed to be
at to squeeze the most water from my father’s lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rode the waves for long seconds, not
attempting to fight them or get closer to shore, but simply trying to clear my
dad’s lungs enough that he could breathe. I was focusing so completely on the
task that when it finally happened, when he spit out a huge mouthful of water
and then started to cough, I could barely believe it. I kept pounding my fist
into the spot below his sternum until he started struggling against me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">And
even then, even as I heard him draw one loud, shaky breath into his lungs, I
still didn’t believe it. “Daddy?” I shouted to be heard above the roaring of
the waves, slipping back into the childhood endearment as if it were a
comfortable old slipper that had just been waiting for me to find it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What
happened?” he gasped between coughing fits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
was hoping he’d be able to tell me that. “I don’t know. Are you okay?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All his limbs were attached and he didn’t seem
to be bleeding, but something had obviously happened to him out here. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Something that seemed
less and less like an animal attack and more like—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">At
that moment, something</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
wrapped itself around my ankles and tugged. Hard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUE THE HUNT</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need
to check out the next author, <a href="http://www.amyplumbooks.com/blog/">Amy Plum!</a>
Happy Hunting!!!!! </div>
</div>
Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com117tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-62384624438571739892012-11-27T11:33:00.000-06:002012-11-27T11:34:14.533-06:00Tempest Revealed!!!!! 1st Excerpt!!!!Here's an excerpt from Tempest Revealed! I'm so excited to finally be sharing it with you :) Let me know what you think!<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">When I woke up,
I was <a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" style="mso-comment-date: 20121013T1600; mso-comment-reference: SA_1;">floating</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">.
Sabyn had unchained me but was keeping a close eye on me from his spot across
the room. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took a second for me to
register that I was still alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
allowed myself a moment of pure relief before whirling toward Sabyn yet again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sent out the most powerful blast of
electricity I could muster. It should have been enough to knock him on his ass,
if not fry him completely, but nothing happened. In fact, he just stood there,
smirking at me as I blasted him again and again and again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
only took a couple times for me to figure out that it wasn’t that Sabyn was
repelling the electricity, it was that I wasn’t actually firing any. Just like
I wasn’t shooting any energy pulses either. My powers had completely dried up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Are you done?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
he asked. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Because there are things I’d like
to talk about, and frankly, you don’t look like you can do that and listen at
the same time.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
sent another blast his way. Then another. And another. Still nothing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What did you do to me? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">If you’d calm down a little bit,
maybe we could talk about it.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
did scream then, reaching deep inside myself for the reserves of power I rarely
had to draw on. I fired absolutely everything I had at him and prayed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">All
he did was yawn. Then he walked toward the door, his total disregard for my
powers obvious in the way he turned his back on me—something he never would
have done before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Okay. All right.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
The words came out hoarse and breathless, a testament to just how hard I’d been
fighting him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What do you want to talk
about?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I knew you’d come around.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
coughed, then felt my gills ooze a little. When I put my hands up to them it
was to find out that I was bleeding. Sabyn had really done a number on me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I’m sorry about that,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
he said. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I guess I was too rough.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
didn’t bother to answer. He’d smothered me into unconsciousness, so yeah, I had
a tendency to see that as “too rough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">What do you want, Sabyn? I’m too
tired to play games.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Even after your nap? I’m so sorry
to hear that.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> He gestured to the floor. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why don’t you have a seat, get comfortable? </i>He
pulled a picnic basket into the room, set it down next to me. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maybe something to eat will help with your
exhaustion.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
stared at the basket in disbelief. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m
not hungry.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
shrugged his shoulders. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I guess that
depends on how badly you want answers. Besides, who knows when I’ll decide to
feed you next.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">You are completely revolting.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">And you are a total pain in the
ass, but here we are anyway. </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He held out a kelp bar.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Try it. It’s pretty good.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I don’t think so.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
shrugged, then took a big bite. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Suit
yourself.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Sabyn
settled with the picnic on the ground, or at least as close to the ground as he
could get with the sea water pushing at him. Merpeople, like other half-human
sea creatures, have a built in resistance to the ocean’s buoyancy, which allows
them to counteract it any time they want. It doesn’t mean they’ll be able to
walk on the ocean floor without effort, but it does mean that they won’t float
more than an inch or so above it unless they want to. My resistance isn’t as
good as a full merperson’s but I can usually stay two or three inches above
whatever it is I’m resting on. Unless I’m concentrating. Then I can lay on a
bed or walk on the ground like any other merperson.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Are
you going to tell me what’s going on here, Sabyn? You can’t actually think
you’re going to get away with holding me prisoner.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He laughed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who’s going to stop me? Kona? From what I hear, he can barely stand to
be in the same ocean with you. Besides, he’s got other problems right now.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My blood ran cold. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What do you mean?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You screwed things for a lot of
people when you took off for home last week. Now Coral Straits is mine, and
Kona’s kingdom … well, let’s just say it’s not really his anymore. But don’t
feel too bad; his people are probably relieved. He’s been having a rough time
over there since you dumped him.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sabyn’s words hit me hard, made me
focus on the guilt that was always just below the surface. I wanted to lash out
at him, to tell him off, but I couldn’t. I needed him. Not just for me—I was
more than happy to piss him off when I was the only one at risk. But Sabyn had
news of Kona, and that I wanted desperately. He might not be my boyfriend
anymore, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still care about him. If something else
happened to him because he was helping me … I’d never forgive myself. And I
would make Sabyn, and Tiamat, pay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’d never been particularly
bloodthirsty as a human. Even as a mermaid, I would rather flight than fight if
I could get away with it. But I’d had about enough of Sabyn and Tiamat and all
the other sea monsters they had working with them. If I got out of this damn
dungeon alive, I swore I would take them all down, no matter what it took. Their
reign of terror had to end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But I was smart enough to know that
there was no way I’d get a chance to escape if I didn’t play nice with Sabyn. Oh,
I didn’t necessarily expect him to buy it—he wasn’t a total idiot, after all. But
he was vain, really vain, and if I worked it long enough, maybe his guard would
slip. If not today, then some time soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hating myself and what I had to do,
I settled down next to him and his ridiculous picnic. I even grabbed one of the
disgusting kelp bars and took a bite, praying it wasn’t poisoned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He didn’t say anything while we ate,
and neither did I. I was smart enough to know that I had to wait for him to
take the lead or I would never get anywhere. But it was so hard, when I was
dying to know where Kona was. Not to mention what he had done to my powers. If
there was ever a time I needed them, this was it. I couldn’t do anything
without them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sabyn forced me to sit there, watching
him go through a truly disgusting amount of food. I knew it was for effect,
that he was showing me he was the one in control. But even understanding his
motivation, it was difficult not to grab one of the kelp and veggie sandwiches
and cram it down his throat until he choked on the stupid thing. Except he was
a merman so he couldn’t actually choke. More’s the pity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally, when I felt like I was
going to lose my mind if he made me wait one more second, he pushed his plate
away with a huge sigh. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Beer?</i> he
asked, holding out a brew made of red algae. It was Kona’s favorite brand and
my heart thumped a little in my chest when I saw it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I shook my head. I hated the stuff. Besides,
the last thing I needed right now was to cloud my brain with alcohol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So</i>,
Sabyn said after taking a long drink. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
have a proposition for you.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally. What do you want?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Excuse
me?</i> Surely I’d heard wrong. Then again, he looked surprisingly earnest when
he leaned forward and reached for my hand. I yanked it away before he could get
a good grip on it, then folded my arms over my chest in case he hadn’t gotten
the hint. I had to admit I felt like I was in the middle of a particularly
weird and horrifying episode of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Twilight Zone</i>. Or maybe <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">X-Files</i>. That
show has always freaked me out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I waited for him to say more, but he
didn’t. Nor did he do anything besides stare at me with a wounded expression on
his face. Like my not wanting him to touch me had somehow offended him. Which
was so ridiculous it made me long for my powers even more. There was nothing I
wanted at that moment as much as the ability to blast him into next week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally the whole nervous talker
thing got the better of me and I demanded, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sabyn,
what the hell are you up to?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I thought that was obvious. I’m
taking over your kingdom.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, I got that. But what are you
doing bringing me picnic lunches? We’re pretty much the definition of mortal
enemies at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think that’s a little harsh, don’t
you?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You shot me with a dart gun,
stripped me of my powers and chained me in a dungeon. And that was just today. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, but that was for your own good.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My own good?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
I almost choked on my utter incredulity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In
case you didn’t notice, people weren’t exactly overjoyed to see you today.</i> He
gestured carelessly to the world outside my dungeon walls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
didn’t talk to anybody. That’s the whole point. You have my people so terrified
of you that they wouldn’t even come greet me.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That wasn’t terror, Tempest. That
was disgust. I didn’t seize control of Coral Straits. It was given to me in a
gift box, all wrapped up with a shiny bow.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
don’t believe you.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He shrugged. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fine, don’t believe me. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Your people
sold you out.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wanted to ignore him, to discount
everything he was saying. But he was so calm, so rational, so sure of himself
that it was hard to do. Besides, I could still see Bali’s face, could see all
those people who saw me come into town today and went out of their way not to
talk to me. After seeing Sabyn, I had decided it was fear that motivated them. But
what if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> something else? What
if they had chosen Sabyn as a leader? They could have been avoiding me because
no one wanted to be the one to tell me. Or worse, because they’d known what was
waiting for me and they were okay with me being hurt, imprisoned, trapped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But
still. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why would they do that?</i> I
demanded. Even as I asked, I was aware of the irony of seeking answers¸
reassurance, from the man who had put me in this situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">My guess? They don’t like your ties
to the human world. Every time things get rough, you run home to your daddy and
that human boyfriend of yours. You have to admit, it’s a little pathetic.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
wasn’t about to discuss Mark or my family with Sabyn. They were none of his
business and, truthfully, I hated that he knew anything about them at all. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to change the subject. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So, at risk of sounding like a broken
record, what are you doing here? If you have the monarchy of Coral Straits all
tied up, what are you doing in this dungeon with me?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
smiled, then, and it was such a cold, slimy thing that I had to force myself
not to shudder. The way he was looking at me made me feel like Little Red
Riding Hood at the foot of her grandmother’s bed after the big bad wolf had
climbed into it—like I was lunch and I just didn’t know it yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Funny you should ask</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>he told me, tipping his beer toward me
in a little salute before he drained the bottle and tossed it back into that
ridiculous picnic basket. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m here to ask
for your hand in marriage.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-16900032118772062932012-08-25T22:11:00.000-05:002012-08-25T22:11:36.551-05:00Awkward 2x9 Recap: Homewrecker HamiltonSorry about last week's missed post--beach vacation got in the way. I'll get back to it at some point.<br />
<br />
Awkward 2x9: Homewrecker Hamilton Summary and Review in 1000 words or less<br />
<br />
The Least You Need to Know: At Aunt Ally's wedding, Sadie told Jake<i> everything</i>. Subsequently, Jake kicked Jenna to the curb just moments after she declared her love via VM. Upon hearing the news Matty rushed right over to comfort his friend J-Town, with his lips...while Jake peeped from outside. <i>Dundundun</i>! Also, Lacey's Ben = Matty, not Jake. Ah, foreshadowing.<br />
<br />
The Set-Up: 2 days post-breakup, Jenna's staying at Cute Dad's place updating IamJenna.com and bemoaning her loss. Why, Jake, why? Except for the moments when she's reminiscing her Matty makeout session. Phone rings. Not hers. Some chick for her dad. WTW? No time to ponder though cause Cute Dad's bought her a new old car. Noooooo! Big gift means the big D for her parents, right? <i>Ding</i>. Finally, Jake returns one of her texts...Oh. Shite. It's a pic of her and Matty <i>en flagrante delipto</i>. Cheater, cheater pumpkin eater.<br />
<br />
The sagging middle: At school, in the Jenna wagon, Tamara and Ming weigh in on the pic sitch: Holy! Shite! Jenna argues her innocence--the Matty mack down did not occur until post-dump. She's clear on a technicality. Now to explain the timeline to Jake. Easier said than done. He holes up in the john to avoid her.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, in my absolute fave storyline of this so-so season, Becca, leader of the PHH Asian mafia materializes at Ming's locker with test answers, Ming's missing glasses, and her locker combo. Where's Fred Woo? Ming asks. Fred who? Never heard of him, Becca replies.<br />
<br />
Jake finally exits the can and Jenna declares her innocence-on-a-technicality. Too little, too late. I know <i>everything</i>! Jake states. Oh, Holy. Shite!! Matty, too, exclaims when Jenna shows him the pic and the relates the new status quo. How did this happen?? You're welcome, offers Sadist Sadie. You're a bitch, replies Matty. Thanks for the compliment, but you're the villain here, retorts Sadie. You kept big time secrets from your BFF.<br />
<br />
Jake refuses to talk to either of them, and no one is talking to Ming, including Fred Woo. And her test answers were wrong. Has she been disavowed by the Asian Mafia, Tamara wonders. In the quad, it's time for Wheel. Of. Pep. hosted by the scorned sophomore class prez, Jake. Jenna volunteers in a bid to make him hear the truth: all the Matty goodness happened pre- and post-Jake.(How that's supposed to make things better, IDK). Why don't we bring up your partner-in-cuckoldry, too? says Jake. Come on down, Matty McKibben!<br />
<br />
Once on stage, things get ugly faster than a Sadie/Ricky makeout sesh. Kiss Matty, slut! taunts Jake. Step off, Matty defends J-Town's honor, garnering a right hook from Jake. Then another taunt and punch. And another. Until Matty cold clocks his BFF and oh-so-classily declares "I Effed Your Girlfriend" in front of the whole school.<br />
<br />
This lands the boys before VP Crazy Cakes for arbitration. Matty takes the fall for the fight and for Jenna's cheatin ways. Jake delares their friendship finito. And then in the most effed up move of the season, Jenna, who just two days before was wondering whether her residual feelings for her ex-luvah were the reason for her reticence in saying the L-word to her current squeeze, bypasses said chivalrous ex-luvah in favor of the guy who is publicly proclaiming her Hester Prynne, the sequel. Sad-faced Matty breaks my heart.<br />
<br />
In the sanctuary, Ming is waiting for a skulking Fred Woo. Shhh! he says. I like you, so I can't talk to you. Ever. Why? Ming wants to know. Becca's my ex and she's going ninja on your ass. You're in danger, girlfriend.<br />
<br />
Jenna has a new moniker: <strike>KStew</strike> Homewrecker Hamilton (Though I'm still unsure how this particular name applies. What home's were wrecked?) Also, she's now driving the Slut!-mobile.This sends Lacey over the edge. How could Cute Dad buy you a car without my input? she moans. Cause he most likely wants a divorce, Jenna reveals. Lacey sad.<br />
<br />
Denouement: IamJenna.com update: Jenna's a wreck. But Anon convinces her that maybe s/he shouldn't be the only one privy to Jenna's private thoughts. Next day, Tamara reveals that Jenna's blog has gone wide. Everybody knows <i>everything</i>. Result: Jake's ex-Lissa is pleased; Kyle declares Jenna Lives is back together; Jake is...humiliated. And so is Matty.<br />
<br />
Who did this? indignant Tamara demands. I did, stuns Jenna.<br />
<br />
In Review: This week was the villanization of Jake, the transformation of Matty from pussy to warrior, and the set-up for Jenna to choose...neither. Yes, I'm afraid the writers are going to go with the old "I choose me" scenario ala the original YA tv love triangle, 90210. Because Jenna can't pick either without coming off as a bitch. My predictions for the rest of the season are thus: Jenna will not make Sophie's choice; Matty will have a relationship with the bimbette; Lissa will make a play to get back humiliated Jake; Lacey and Cute Dad will reconcile. Matty and Jenna's reunion will be fodder for season 3.<br />
<br />
Please, for once, let my writerly instincts be wrong!!<br />
<br />
Best Matty/Jenna moment: Holy shite! moment at Matty's locker when he reminds Jenna that her lips were pretty involved, too.<br />
<br />
Best lines: Two guys, fighting over a girl is...a fantasy for some women.Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-22298514017371878222012-08-12T13:14:00.000-05:002012-08-12T13:14:33.839-05:00Awkward Epi 2x7:<i>Another One Bites The Dust</i> Summary and Review in 1000 words or less<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Least You Need To Know: Jenna's feelings for Jake are befuddled, and sex may just be the answer. But not right now. Cause Aunt Ally's getting married! To Sadie's uncle? What!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Set-Up: Ah, her wedding day...the day all little girls dream about since their first Disney movie. Jenna's wondering about hers while at the bridal shop waiting for Aunt Ally to emerge in what she, Sadie, Lacey and some prego chick bridesmaid are betting will be some Miley Cyrus-inspired gown. Except it's totally classy, and hey, so are the bridesmaid dresses. Maybe this won't be so bad... Hold the phone--what is that fuscia floral monstrosity?? That's for you, flower bitch, Ally tells Jenna.<br />
<br />
Tamara tells her not to worry, just have the requisite pervy old uncle at the wedding get you drinks and you'll forget all about this hideous dress. Guess what? Lacey's spending the night at the hotel, so tonight it's bom chicka wah wah time with Sweetheart Jake, Jenna spills. Meantime, Ally's inner bridezilla is emerging and while taming it, Lacey divulges that the reason for the hotel room is to tempt Cute Dad into some hotel sex reconciliation. Sorry, Lacey, your hubby RSVP'd in the negatory. But guess who didn't?!? Ben!! Squee!!! (<i>And my Felicity analogy stands</i>)<br />
<br />
The Sagging Middle: Ben? Who's Ben? Jenna wonders. But there's no time because her flower basket is missing. Crisis ensues! The wedding planner's assistant quits under the pressure. Here, take Tamara, she works cheap, Jenna offers. But Ally's already tipped over the edge, and Jenna quits her role of flower bitch.<br />
<br />
She calls Jake, who's borrowing a suit from Matty. Hey, forget the wedding, we're in the clear for sexy times at 5 o'clock. Make that 4:59, Jake replies all grins. Probably good thing, Matty tells him, cause this suit is cursed. By the by, who was the chick who dumped you at formal? Jake wonders. Luckily for Matty the phone rings: Courtney, his new piece. So, what's the dealio with y'all? asks Jake. She could be GF material, says Matty. Whew! You're finally over that girl from camp, congratulates his BFF. Yeah, finally...<br />
<br />
At the Hamilton's, Sadist Sadie arrives, rubbing her kissy-kissy with Douche Ricky in Heartbroken Tamara's face. Whatever. Who's Ben? Jenna needs to know. Lacey's first love, Ally replies. Yikes! Jenna and T, do some Sherlock Holmsing into Lacey's high school past: yearbooks, pics. <i>Ding dong. </i>Here's Ben...and he's totally cute and all over Lacey. DefCon 2! Jenna declares. Flower bitch is back!<br />
<br />
Ben is tall, dark and all over Lacey. Hey, mom, remember Cute Dad? Dad, who? All Lacey can remember is her memories of Ben, the man who swiped her v-card and...OMG! Ben=Matty. Jenna dials 911 to her dad. But then they need a real ambulance when the prego girl's water breaks. Crap, I need another bridesmaid, wails Ally. Who's available last minute on a Saturday afternoon? Hey, Crazy Cakes. Jenna begs Val for a favor: distract this Ben from my mom and I'll buy you a new cat. I'm in, agrees Crazy Cakes.<br />
<br />
Next: Ally vs. Sadie. Ally wants bridesmaids' hair in double buns. Sadie says no. Bridezilla wins. Double buns. Jenna takes a moment to remind Lacey of her let-no-man-put-asunder vows with her dad. But Ben's so hawt, drools Lacey. Tamara, mic'd up like J.Lo. in that wedding planner movie with McConaughey, tells Jenna she's got a visitor.<br />
<br />
Hi, Matty. Adorkably cute convo ensues. Then Jake appears. Thanks for the suit, bro, and have fun with Courtney (aka Bimbette), wink, wink. Matty to J-Town: You and my BFF look great together. Happy times to you, but my heart, it stings. (<i>Aww!</i>) Obligingly, Jenna asks of Matty's new piece. Oh, she's great; we're great; it's all greatness, he assures. My heart, it stings, too, she tells him. Closure is bittersweet.<br />
<br />
So, maybe I'm overreacting over my mom and her Ben? thinks Jenna. Not so much. On the phone Ben's telling someone that Lacey's a total MILF and he's making a move at the wedding.<br />
<br />
Ding, dong, ding! The wedding bells have rung for Aunt Ally. And Jenna's got her hands full keeping Lacey off the booze and off of Ben, who's pouring it on extra thick. Also, Ricky and Sadie keep shoving their tongues down each other's throats and Tamara's a woman on the edge. Time for her BFF to step in. Tone it down, she warns Sadie. All's fair in love, Sadie retorts. Maybe for now, but your's won't be the only mouth Ricky sticks his tongue down for long, Jenna tells her.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, Aunt Ally's all shades of Sixteen Candles with some muscle relaxers. Lacey's afraid she's rushed into this marriage, but Ally says he's the first man who really loved her. You don't forget that. Ever. Lacey looks longingly to Ben. Sick'em, Crazy Cakes! Jenna begs. No way, I don't do pretty boys, Crazy Cake avows.<br />
<br />
Sadie confronts Ricky about his cheatin' ways. Dollface, my tongue is yours forever, he promises. This, deliberately in front of Tamara. It's Sweetheart Jake who suits up for the rescue. Jenna tells Ben to step off cause her dad is aces. Ben reminds her: don't take the one you love for granted. Word. It's sexy time for Jake!<br />
<br />
<i>(That gd demon movie trailer scares the shite outta me!)</i> <br />
<br />
Denouement: Jake's giving the gears to Sadist Sadie, for Tamara, which convinces Jenna it's time to give him the L-word. But it may be too late, cause Sadie fights dirty and tells Jake he's getting his BFF Matty's sloppy seconds. No way, he says, but as the pieces start to fall into place in his head (the mysterious girl from camp, the secret convos at their lockers, the winter formal) he's not so sure. Poor Jake...<br />
<br />
Best Matty/Jenna moment: It stings!!<br />
<br />
Best lines: Big love hair.<br />
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<br /></div>Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-61301503226901547362012-08-08T00:44:00.001-05:002012-08-08T00:49:51.205-05:00Awkward 2x6 Episode Recap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Awkward. 2x6 Summary and Review in 1000 words or less<br />
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Again, sorry for the delay...<br />
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<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The Least You Need to Know: Valentine's Day sucks! Except for Ming. And definitely no more double-dates with your first love and his new piece. Also, Jake loves Jenna, which is totally awesome, right? Then how come she can't say it back??</span></div>
<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 19.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The Set-up: Jenna's tossing and turning. Why didn't Jake's love declaration illicit the same response in her? Maybe she's just not in touch with her feelings yet. But no time to think cause... Aunt Ally's back, beyotches! Sportin a diamond on her ring finger. From Dan, who after just two weeks, a trip to Paris and 4.6 carats later, she lurves. How can Ally know so soon and I can't, Jenna wonders?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Tamara and Ming are pretty sure her "awesome" response sent Jake scrambling for a Prozac scrip. Also, Tamara declares her post-bladder-failure nickname as Tinklebell to all the haters. Are you in love with Jake? Check yes or no, they demand. Maybe, maybe not, answers Jenna. That's a no, they decide.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In the sanctuary, Sadist Sadie demands some heavy petting from Douche Ricky. I want more, he tells her. Not a chance, band geek. I don't take my shame grope out in public. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You're leading Jake on, T & M tell Jenna. But I love being his GF, isn't that the same thing? You either know or you don't, there's no middle ground with love. And Ming knows first hand, cause of Fred Woo. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Taking a break from the announcements with guest host, Matty.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jake: Hey, bro, I told Jenna the L-word. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Matty: Whoa! Y'all had sex? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jake: No. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Matty: Amateur. You dangle that carrot till she puts out. Gotta play it chill now, dude. She'll come around. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jake: Easy for you, stud. You've never been in love.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Matty: (sad face)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In class, Jenna presents Exhibit A to Tamara: her notebook with a lovey-dovey pic of J&J on the cover. All good, except for the "I heart M.M." written on the back, T argues. Maybe residual Matty feelings are clouding her Jake feelings. Sex is the answer, Tamara declares. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jenna passes Matty on the way to Jake. It's full of weird. Anywho...hey, Jake, apropo of nothing, we should have sex--Oops! Is that mic hot? Um, yes. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here's your scarlett "A", Hester Prynne, the school declares. But Matty rescues her from the tar & feathers. Should I give Jake the map to J-Town? Oh Hells No. (<i>And they're so adorkably cute together I can barely stand it!</i>) Okey dokey, but go easy, ex-luvah, cause he's really in to you, i.e. don't break his poor besotted heart like mine. Hey, guess what? Matty's moved out of the weird zone and into the friend zone, Jenna decides. (<i>Note: Ex's never stay in the friend zone, Jenna. They either come back off the bench or retire. This is basic relationship 101 stuff.</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Crazy Cakes calls Jenna to her office. About the sex, some advice: Be a lady in the streets, and a freak in the sheets. Also, me and your mom are doing yoga this afternoon. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sex is not the answer to her love dilemma, Jenna decides. Too bad Jake is totally jonesin for some Jenna luvin. Let's sync our calendars for sexy times. Guess what? I'm free now, says Jake. Yay? thinks Jenna. How bout my car? Too small. Your mom's at yoga right? Oh, yeah...okay, if you insist, let's go to my house and have the sex. Mercy bang, anyone?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Parked car. Rockin. Douche-Ricky and Sadist Sadie in the backseat. Last time, she declares. No, he begs. Man up, dude. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Approaching the Hamilton homestead, Sweetheart Jake's bouncing around like a rat terrier with a new toy. But Lacey, Crazy Cakes, and Aunt Ally are at home for the ultimate cockblock. Uh, rain check, please. Jake exits stage left. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ding dong. What's Sadist Sadie doing here? Turns out she and Jenna are gonna be kissing cousins when Aunt Ally marries Sadie's rich Uncle Dan. How did you know Dan's the man if you've not tested the plumbing beforehand? everyone inquires of Ally. If the feelings aren't already there, it's just plain ole S-E-X. And speaking of sex, Lacey needs to get laid. But what about Cute Dad? Is it over? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sadie ponders Aunt Ally's LoveLine wisdom and calls Douche Ricky--this may just be a match made in the ninth ring of hell. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Updating Iamjenna.com: If doing the deed doesn't decide my feelings, maybe it's not worth doing it? Except Lacey reveals that sometimes the sex and the feelings all come at the same time, like with Cute Dad. So Jenna rings Jake: I've got the comdoms, big boy. Let's do this.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Jake scores his mom's mini-van. Jenna, playing the part of Felicity Porter (Season 1 episode ?), rushes to undress, but wait...Jake, ever the sweetheart, has constructed a love nest in the back complete with sprinkled rose petals. <i>Gawd</i>. Hey, you’re not just doing this to make me feel better? asks </span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: line-through;">Noel</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Jake. Cause I just can’t hold in my love and if we don’t make it after this, I’ll pine for you forever, </span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: line-through;">Felicity</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Jenna. (<i>I’m pretty sure Jake is Noel at this point, or a girl. But definitely not a 16 year old guy, except a 16 y.o. guy as written by a 30-something y.o woman.</i>) Well, guess what? I’m in love after all, Jenna finally decides, before she chokes on all the sap. But let’s wait on the sexy times, k? It’ll be worth it--<i>just ask Matty...</i></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<i>Best Matty/Jenna moments: </i>The hallway...just...loved it.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Best Lines I plan to work into my conversations: </i>You're so J.V.<br />
If you drink enough wine it tastes like love.</div>Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-9759714651773566472012-08-01T08:59:00.000-05:002012-08-06T10:14:17.713-05:00The YA Scavenger Hunt is Here!!!!<div style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rNg09WkQVmc/UBk2lHxjdyI/AAAAAAAAAd4/esDXn4t2r5s/s1600/scavenger+hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rNg09WkQVmc/UBk2lHxjdyI/AAAAAAAAAd4/esDXn4t2r5s/s640/scavenger+hunt.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hi guys!!! Welcome to the Summer 2012 YA Scavenger Hunt! </div>
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This tri-annual
event was first organized by author Colleen Houck as a way to give
readers a chance to gain access to exclusive bonus material from their favorite
authors...and a chance to win some awesome prizes! At this hunt, you not only
get access to exclusive content from each author, you also get a clue for the
hunt. Add up the clues, and you can enter for our prize--one lucky winner will
receive <b>one signed book from each author on the hunt in my
team</b>!<b> </b>But play fast: this contest (and all the exclusive bonus
material) will only be online for 4 days!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Go to the <a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: red;">YA Scavenger Hunt</span></a> page to find
out all about the hunt. </b>There are TWO contests going on simultaneously, and
you can enter one or all! I am a part of the <span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: red;">RED Team</span></span>--but there is also a blue team for a chance to win a whole different
set of signed books!<br />
If you'd like to find out more about the
hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of
prizes up for grabs, go to<a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/p/prizes.html"><span style="color: #2288bb;"> the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage</span></a>.</div>
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<b>SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE</b></div>
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<b>Directions:</b> Below, you'll notice that I've
listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on
the <span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: red;">red team</span></span>, and then add them up (don't
worry, you can use a calculator!). </div>
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<b>Entry Form:</b> Once you've added up all the
numbers, <a href="http://yascavengerhunt.blogspot.com/p/enter-here.html"><span style="color: #2288bb;">make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize</span></a>.
Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.</div>
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<b>Rules:</b> Open internationally, anyone below
the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be
eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by August
5, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without
contact information will not be considered.</div>
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<b>SCAVENGER HUNT POST</b></div>
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Today, I'm really excited to introduce you to YA author, Teri Terry! She is a super cool lady and her new book, Slated, sounds absolutely fascinating. I can't wait to read it <span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red;">13</span> </span>times! Here's the scoop about Teri: </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_uMkHo3QZQg/UBkwwEr_4nI/AAAAAAAAAdU/XFv2Fk1A09I/s1600/Teri_Terry_author2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_uMkHo3QZQg/UBkwwEr_4nI/AAAAAAAAAdU/XFv2Fk1A09I/s320/Teri_Terry_author2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Teri has lived in France, Canada, Australia and now England at more addresses than she can count. Moving constantly as a child, teenager and also as an adult has kept her on the outside looking in much of her life. It has given her an obsession with characters who don't belong for find themselves in unfamiliar places, like Kyla in Slated. </div>
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<strong> And here's the scoop on her book!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNCg-mdddYA/UBkyE8DbcfI/AAAAAAAAAdc/vLWMCSXiFtM/s1600/BIGSlated_front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNCg-mdddYA/UBkyE8DbcfI/AAAAAAAAAdc/vLWMCSXiFtM/s400/BIGSlated_front.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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Kyla's memory has been erased, her personality wiped blank, her memories
lost forever.</div>
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She's been Slated.</div>
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The government claims she was a terrorist, and that they are giving her a
second chance - as long as she plays by their rules. But echoes of the past
whisper in Kyla's mind. Someone is lying to her, and nothing is as it seems. Who
can she trust in her search for the truth? </div>
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<b style="text-align: left;">Find out more information about Teri by checking out her <a href="http://www.teriterry.com/">website</a> or find more about her book <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/Slated-Teri-Terry/9781408319468">here</a>!</b></div>
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And don't forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a copy of my June book, <strong>Tempest Unleashed,</strong> as well as Teri's books and a ton of other signed books! To enter, you need to find my favorite number, written in red somewhere in this blog post. Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the<span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: red;">red team</span></span> and you'll have the secret code to enter for the grand prize!</div>
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<strong><em>Also, I'm giving away a prize as well-- an ARC of my January Armageddon novel, Doomed. Here's the blurb:</em></strong> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Beat the Game, Save the World.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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One Stuxnet
type worm,<o:p></o:p></div>
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One
Greek-themed MMO,<o:p></o:p></div>
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One real
world scavenger hunt,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Three
teenagers on the run<o:p></o:p></div>
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And a
ten-day countdown to total nuclear annihilation .<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pandora’s
Box isn’t just a myth anymore …<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eQovvwel1WY/UBkzX_gM33I/AAAAAAAAAdk/RujxuO2-huE/s1600/doomed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eQovvwel1WY/UBkzX_gM33I/AAAAAAAAAdk/RujxuO2-huE/s400/doomed.jpg" width="266" /></a>When
seventeen-year-old Pandora Walker opens an email attachment, she uploads the
most frightening worm ever invented—and in doing so, brings about total
technological Armageddon. Everything from the internet to communications to utilities
collapses and suddenly Pandora finds herself on the run from Homeland Security,
the FBI and every police department in the country, all of whom blame her for
the technological wasteland sweeping across the U.S..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the help of stepbrothers Eli and Theo,
her neighbors and the two hottest guys in school-- plus codes encrypted in a
world famous MMO--<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she sets out on a
real life scavenger hunt that only she can solve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A scavenger hunt that pits her against one of
the most brilliant men in the world—the maker of the Pandora worm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only by unraveling the clues left by him in the MMO, and in real-world
places around the U.S., can they hope to beat the clock ticking the days off until
the entire planet is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Doomed.</span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><strong><em>All you have to do to be entered to win the ARC of Doomed is to leave a comment here on my blog!</em></strong></span></div>
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<br />
<b>CONTINUE THE HUNT</b></div>
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</div>
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To keep going on your quest for the hunt, you need
to check out the next author, the fabulous and amazing <a href="http://www.peteradamsalomon.com/blog/">Peter Adam Salomon!</a></div>
</div>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com262tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-68881033284474169792012-07-31T23:20:00.000-05:002012-07-31T23:20:19.112-05:00Awkward 2x5 Recap: My Love is a Black HeartSorry for the late post, I was out of town last week and just got caught up on my Awkward. watching. So, here we go...<br />
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Awkward. Episode 2x5 Summary and Review in <strike>500</strike> 1053 words or less<br />
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The Least You Need To Know: After her baptism by fire at Jesus camp with Jake's ex-Lissa, Jenna decides she must forgive herself her trespasses, and that she and Matty can be friends...that is until she sees him sniff his pits over some freshman bimbette.<br />
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The Set-Up: Valentine's Day, great and terrible, the day all singletons fear the worst, even more than NYE, has come to pass at Palos Hills High. A KStew situation is going down in the quad prompting a severe case of PTXD--Post Traumatic Ex Disorder. Of which Tamara is also still in the throes of over douche-flame Ricky. But not Jenna, cause she's got Sweetheart Jake, so this year she's a Lover not a Hater.<br />
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The Sagging Middle: Matty comes to her for perfect date tips. For Jake perhaps? Jenna gives him pointers. Then Sweetheart Jake arrives with some kind of cutesy, cute stuffed thing. (<i>Guys, just...no.</i>) It's a Love Bug, he proclaims, but Jenna's too preoccupied scoping out the freshman bimbette Matty's whispering sweet nothings to. She's tall, blonde--your basic nightmare. So, what's the sitch on Matty and the bimbette? Dating? Nah, assures Jake, he's getting ready to tap that like a keg of Natty Light at a moontower party.<br />
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Elsewhere, Sadist Sadie proclaims her loathing of Vday, but when Jake's ex-Lissa invites her over for their annual viewing of Mean Girls, Sadie passes. (<i>By the by, loving Lissa's new backbone</i>). During lunch, Ming reveals that instead of doing cyanide shots with Tamara she's going to the BHP--the infamous Black Hearts Party. Squee! Take me, Tamara begs. No way, says Ming, Ricky S is gonna be there and the rumor from the Tong is he's in lurve. Jenna, however, can't concentrate on anything except the bimbette. Guys, is she cute? she asks. Um, hells yeah, T & Ming concur. Whatever. I'm not jealous, Jenna tells Crazy Cakes. Who is she kidding? Not even herself.<br />
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Cute Dad drops Jenna back home and she informs him their annual father/daughter date is on pause this year because of Sweetheart Jake. In walks Lacey. Totally awkward family reunion ensues, but Cute Dad's not into it. Jenna smarts off about her mom's shenanigans with Crazy Cakes, so Lacey drops the mom-block: curfew's at 10.<br />
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It's the perfect date with the perfect boy at the perfect restaurant. Everything's perfect, perfect, perfect...<i>scraaaatch</i>. Matty's there, bimbette in tow. At the table a deux right next to theirs. Gotta be a total setup, right? Bimbette meet Jenna-with-the-big-green-eyes.<br />
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The Black Hearts Party is raving. Douche-flame Ricky tosses Tamara a casual howdy-do, sending T into a tailspin of cheap booze and dry humping with randoms.<br />
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At the double-date from hell, Jenna's plate is full of something guaranteed to send her into anaphalactic shock. No worries. Matty steps in to take it off her hands. Hey, how does he know and I don't? wonders Sweetheart Jake. Meanwhile Matty spoonfeeds Bimbette, who practically fellates the fork. Jake's a nervous wreck about this train wreck V-date. Then Jenna totally emasculates him when he wants to buy her a posy from Eliza Doolittle but regrets it when Matty buys tulips for the bimbette. Jenna, pick a team already! And speaking of teams, talk at the table turns to football as romance takes a backseat to bromance. Bimbette leans in for a girl-to-girl gab session - I cannot believe I'm on a date with Matty McKibben! That makes two of us, bemoans Jenna.<br />
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Back at the BHP, Tamara continues her downward spiral into Fatal Attraction territory, but pauses for Mings first red cup photo op courtesy of Fred Woo.<br />
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Across the table, Jake takes Jenna's hand. Ha! Suck on that Bimbette, you'll never get this with Matty--oops! my napkin. J ducks and finds not only her lost linen, but some Undercover DA at the other table. Crack!! Head meet table. Jenna consoles herself that at least what she saw was hidden, except...now it isn't. Matty's hand. Bimbette's hand. Entwined. Right there for God and Jenna to see. She flees to confess her seething jealousy to Tamara's VM. Matty shows up with napkin of ice for her bump. Thanks for the date pointers, he says. See, he IS totally trying to make me jealous, Jenna believes. But, nah, he just wants this to be legit with Bimbette, not like he was with her. Jenna sad. Then in rides Sweetheart Jake with an ice pack. (<i>Not gonna lie--I feel totally sorry for Jake, but also I kinda wanna slap him.</i>)<br />
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Ming is totally getting down with Fred Woo, until distraught Tamara sits down for the cockblock. Okay, wrap this up, Ming, while I pee and we're gonna jet. But, of course, the line for the ladies' room is four effin' miles long. Tamara makes for the door and bangs on it. We must pee!! Door flies open to reveal--<i>dundundun!</i>--Sadist Sadie's tongue down Douche-Ricky's throat. Anguished, Tamara's sphincter can hold no more.<br />
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Denounement: Ext. Hamilton House. Great date! Jenna assures Jake. Def better than what my Dad had planned, exhibit A: he left a Love Bug for her on the porch, identical to the one Jake gave her earlier. (<i>Dear God, Jenna, don't you see--Jake is just like your dad. Freud, anyone?</i>) Jake presents her with a bouquet of calla lilies--strong and beautiful, just like you, he croons. Way better than tulips, she says. Oops, was that out loud? Don't screw this up, she tells herself. Jake is perfect, perfect, perfect. I love you, Jenna, he professes. Big smile, big kiss, and...Awesome!?! No ditto, no vice-versa, just awesome. Jake leaves, crushed.<br />
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Lacey: You're late.<br />
Jenna: Here's a gift from Dad. It's a love bug.<br />
Lacey clings to it like the last life preserver on the Titanic. In Jenna's room, Tamara is sobbing undercover. No more tears, T, cause Sadie & Ricky deserve each other. You have to move on, Jenna preaches. I have (<i>since when, Jenna?</i>) and so should Matty, she thinks. (<i>Easy to say when the bimbette isn't around...</i>)<br />
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Best Matty/Jenna moment: When he takes whatever it is off her plate and tells Jake she's allergic.<br />
Best phrase I'm going to start using: Darth HaterShellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-56075710165018257252012-07-20T22:19:00.001-05:002012-07-20T22:19:30.871-05:00Awkward 2x4 Recap Are You There God? It's Me, JennaOkay, I know I haven't yet posted the recap for the epic Three's a Crowd, and I promise I will, but I'm going to jump ahead into last night's religulous experience Are You There God? It's Me, Jenna.<br />
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Awkward. Epsiode 2x4 Summary and Review in <strike>500</strike> 798 words or less<br />
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The Least You Need to Know: Matty is totally trying to sabotage Jenna's relationship with Jake. Also, Lacey is failing in her reconciliation attempts with Kevin aka Cute Dad.<br />
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The Set-Up: Guilt! So much guilt. Guilt for being the catalyst in her parents' breakup. Guilt for not telling Jake about Matty. <i>Guilt about still having feelings for Matty???</i> And to assuage it, the shiny mother ship of guilt--church. Hey, at least there's donuts! But also Jake's ex-Lissa, who invites Jenna to Jesus camp for the weekend, to atone for the all the sinning aka boyfriend theft (<i>and maybe some impure thoughts abouts an ex? just sayin...</i>).<br />
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The Sagging Middle: Tamara is not down with this whole weekend cult experience. Do not drink the kool-aid, she warns. But Jenna feels the need for some spiritual healing. Oh, hey, stalker Kyle, waz up with the Jenna Lives band? Broke up. Too much unwanted attention from jocks and pretty boys (<i>wink, wink</i>). We're now Take It Outside. WTF? That's my line, Tamara says.<br />
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Sadist Sadie confronts ex-BFF Lissa about her refusal to fall back in line. No way. Lissa blames Sadie for her bad karma. Besides Jenna's gonna be her new bestie. Sadie is not pleased.<br />
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Jenna steps into Crazy Cakes's office. I broke up my parents so I'm going to Jesus Camp. Holy Match.com! Cute Dad is available? Focus, Crazy Cakes. Jenna, just remember that turning to God is a slippery slope, Val counsels. First it's all hugs and the next thing you know you're bald and handing out leaflets at the airport.<br />
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In the quad, hot girls give Matty the eye, but he's blinded by his broken heart. You've got to get over that lame bitch, Jake tells him. What lame bitch? Jenna asks. The one who dumped Matty, Jake reminds. Oh, yeah, me, Jenna remembers. Great idea, bro--let's double date this weekend, Jake invites. Oh, Hells No--I'm going to church camp, declares Jenna. It's gonna be love, peace, and donuts. But who does she spy on the bus to redemption? The anti-Christ, Sadie. Hallelujah?<br />
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Rescue me T, Jenna begs from the woods. Sorry, I'm grounded cause of that douche-flame Ricky Schwartz I keep flitting to, says moth-Tamara. Also, thanks for the stalker.<br />
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Like Moses on Mount Sanai, Sadist Sadie lays down the law to Jenna: Lissa is mine. Luckily for Jenna, there's a ubiquitous-YA gay guy to listen to her moan session and teach her a lesson--Own Your Own Shit! In the words of Judy Blume, nobody can make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them.<br />
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At a bar, Lacey's desperately praying Jenna will call for a rescue. Hey, single lady! calls out Crazy Cakes. No, we're on a break, Lacey replies, cause I can't be single. Whatever, says Val. Let me show you how to break bread in public, alone.<br />
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It's come as your favorite biblical character night at camp. Lissa is Eve, Gay Guy is Adam, and Jenna's the serpent, natch. Sadie is Mary, about five seconds from needing a manger.<br />
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In the Anno Domini, Tamara demands Kyle cease and desist their stalkership.<br />
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Back at camp it's time for share circle! It's like Friends of Bill but with Jesus. Lissa confesses her handiwork prowess with Jake. Ewww! But instead it brings Lissa & Jenna closer to BFF status sending Sadist Sadie into the ninth circle of hell. Hey, Hamilton, how bout that suicide attempt? she reveals to all. It was an accident! Beg forgiveness, sinner, sayeth the circle, or burn forever, or is it purgatory, or--? Jenna snaps--Nevermind. Satan Forever!<br />
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Val is on step 3 of showing Lacey how to <strike>become a crazy cat lady</strike> eat in public alone: it's all about the reading material. And the wine. Much wine. Hey, thanks new bestie! says Lacey. No problem, Val replies. Also, I'm going to ask Cute Dad for a date.<br />
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Jenna has an epiphany: beneath the dim cheerleader exterior, Jake's ex-Lissa is a really good person. Hugs.<br />
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Denouement: IamJenna.com updates: Jenna and Lacey will survive! They've absolved and evolved. And they're not alone, reminds the Anonymous commenter. Who r u? Jenna asks. Not God...<br />
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Jenna reveals to Tamara the secret to happiness: compassion. Too bad Tamara has none for stalker Kyle. If you're gonna stalk me, she says, here's some lite reading. She hands him an All About Tamara scrapbook.<br />
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Lissa decides to reconcile with Sadie, realizing that Sadist Saxton is her cross to bear.<br />
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Matty apologizes to Jenna about what happened at the quad. You're not a lame bitch, you're boyfriend said that. No worries. Truce? Sure. A tall blonde walks by. Hey, Matty, she purrs. Matty is no longer oblivious, and sniffs his pits. Oh, Sweet Jesus.Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-17696189295945383032012-07-19T18:52:00.000-05:002012-07-19T18:53:15.236-05:00Awkward. Episode 2x2 Recap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Episode 2x2 Sex, Lies & The Sanctuary Summary and Review in <s>500</s> 948 words or less </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Least You Need To Know: Jenna’s still with Jake. Matty asked for a 2<sup>nd</sup> chance, but Jenna was all “Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda”, so long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Set-up: The bliss continues for Jenna as she strolls publicly hand-in-hand with Sweetheart Jake cause he’s not ashamed to be seen with her, even in that tragic outfit she’s wearing. Hey, what’s going down at the Sanctuary? Holy Homeland Security! There’s a camera pointed right at thehigh school’s sex cave. How long has that been there?!?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenna prays she and Matty don’t have a starring role in the Palos Hills High Sex Tape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Sagging Middle: The footage has been snatched. Mass hysteria prevails. Matty is trying to convince himself that he is not playing the part of Tommy Lee/Ray-J/Rick Salomon on the tape, while Jake moans about his girlfriend’s hymen-less status. Whoa! Back up the cherry tree, Matty says. Are you tapping Hamilton? Not yet, opines Jake. Thanks god—I mean, that’s the past, bro, assures Matty. Chill. Oh, hey, J-town. Don’t J-Town me—did you tell Jake about us? No ways, but pics don’t lie, so we better get our story straight, luvah.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">To quell any scandal potential, the principal asks Crazy Cakes to use her insider ways with the kiddoes to procure the whereabouts of said sex tape. She and Jenna attempt to shake down each other for some info, but hit a wall. The Great Wall that is. J and Tamara convince Ming she has to play her Asian card to get the intel. So Ming must kowtow to Becca, leader of the school’s tong. Ming doesn’t really fit in being neither a School Asian (low SATs) or a Cool Asian (no affair with singer of an indie rock band), but Becca agrees to help. Sushi, anyone? Also, here’s the answers to tomorrow’s history test. Use it and stop making us look bad. Ming is enchanted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">At home, Lacey has made all of Jenna’s favorite foods, but J’s not hungry and wants Lacey <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to reveal her “A Friend” nom de plume to Cute Dad. But Lacey’s too scared and besides she totally regrets it now. Too little, too late, Jenna declares. Tell Dad or I will.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Next day at school, fear of the sex tape’s contents runs rampant in the hallways. I must tell Jake, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jenna decides.Call off the Asian mafia. But it’s too late for that Becca tells Ming. The DVD will be delivered as promised tomorrow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">In the boy’s locker room, Matty and Jake are bantering about thongs and such (they have the best chemistry on the show), especially since Jake seems to have grown some lady bits himself. My girlfriend’s not a virgin, wah wah wah. You must chill, dude, insists Matty. But she loved him, bro—how can I compete? Jake replies. Love? Really? Matty takes off, man-on-a-mission styles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Hey, J-Town, am I still your one and only? Cause, I lurve you, declares Matty, sweet smile of relief on his lips. See, be careful what you wish for, Jenna…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Later, Jakes all: Tell me, I gotta know who it was. Never mind. It doesn’t matter cause I’m super-sensitive Sweetheart Jake and all that matters is that you’re with me now. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gag</i>. So, Jenna’s off that hook. Except, Tamara warns her that if Matty’s willing to say the L-word now, he could go all Jason Bourne on J&J’s romance. And how’s Jake gonna feel then when the video goes viral, in 10, 9, 8, 7…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">No worries! Matty & J aren’t on the DVD Becca tells Ming. Crazy Cakes swipes it and hands it over to a very sweaty principal who wants<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to shut down some sexy times evidence of his own—resulting in a VP promotion for Crazy Cakes, apparently evil Becca’s plan all along. While Ming comes to the realization that she’s been jumped into the Asian mafia, Jenna basks in the afterglow of getting away with her sexcapade, until she gets a Meet Me text from Matty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">We’re in the clear, he says. So, what about the L- bomb I dropped on you earlier? Again, too little, too late, she says. I’m so sorry, J-town, but please don’t tell Jake. He can’t stand to lose his girl and his bestie. Poor Matty. (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Whew! Now that the apology is out of the way, the road is paved to a future reconciliation</i>.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">IamJenna.com updates: About the secrets, Jake won’t ask, Matty won’t tell, and mom’s in the closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ping! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anon commenter reminds Jenna it’s her mom’s secret to tell. In the end it doesn’t matter, because Lacey finally comes clean to Cute Dad (whose name is Kevin apparently). There’s a knock at Jenna’s back door which sets up the obligatory be-hymen reference. It’s Jake, he’s nervous—why did Jenna want to talk? Because she’ not “in” love with that other guy anymore, she’s “in”vested in Jake (vested is so not the same as love, I would like to point out). They kiss and it’s totally…asexual. Guy’s there is no heat with this couple. Like I said before, Jake Rossati will not make it out of the friend zone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Best quote I’m totally gonna use: Amasian-ing!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: large;">Best Jenna/Matty moment: The adorbs little smile<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matty gives after he declares his love.</span></span>Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-84768292729760253742012-07-17T10:43:00.000-05:002012-07-17T10:47:14.522-05:00It's baaaacccckkkk...Awkward. RecapsSo, I am way behind on these, but I plan to get the recaps for the first three eps up before the new one on Thursday. Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Episode 2x1 Resolutions Summary and Review in <s>500</s> 753 words or less </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Least You Need To Know: While it’s been 9 long months for us since Awkward.’s first season finale in which Jenna chose Sweetheart Jake over High School Fantasy (HSF) Matty and discovered that it was her mom, Lacey, who authored the infamous Care-frontation letter, in fair Palos Verde it’s been a mere fortnight since these events came to pass.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Set-up: Tis the night before Christmas, and nothing is stirring except Jenna’s mouse as she catches up on her blogging (Nice to know she’s not the only one who falls behind. Ahem.) The news to her readership: Jake = Bliss. Well, maybe bliss is too strong a word, but definitely more happy-like. And guess what? Jake invites her to update her relationship status to GFF. But is she ready for such a visible commitment while visions of sugar plum Matty still dance in her head?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">The Sagging Middle: Christmas morn, family presents around the Hamilton tree. Playing the role of Joan Crawford, Lacey tries to buy her way out of guilt with some bling for her baby girl, while from Cute Dad …a Costco-size box of condoms?!? Awkward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Skip ahead and it’s time to party like it’s 2012. Jenna’s on the phone with Tamara, who’s still the moth to Ricky Schwartz’s douche-flame. Also, even though Jenna knows about her mom’s role in her non-suicide attempt, she’s keeping it on the DL for now. But Lacey notices her daughter’s growing distance. Could it be because Jake hasn’t made their relationship online official? Gah! Parents just don’t understand, Jenna blogs, as a comment from Anonymous pops up. WTW? Who’s cyber stalking Jenna? (Odds on favorites: Matty or Lacey)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Matty is the NYE host with the most which makes everything totes awkward for Jenna. Luckily, Ming and Tamara are already there cause Jenna is still wigged out by her Anon commenter. Meanwhile, Jake’s ex-Lissa wants to repent her sins against Jenna Old Testament styles—a slap for a slap. And while Jenna gives the Hamiltonsawhore.com webmaster a free pass, the same cannot be said for the Lissa-Sadie ex-BFF relaysh. In the kitchen, Matty’s getting the scoop on the sitch between his bestie and his girl, while Jenna hovers in the pantry. RING, RING!! It’s Crazy Cakes! Aw, Val, I’ve missed you so. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Crazy Cakes is a stood-up mess, but Jenna can’t help right now because she’s decided what she really needs for the new year is closure with Matty. Except that’s not what Matty wants. Oh, no. He wants a second chance. So meet him in the basement at midnight, he pleads, and--in the douchiest Matty moment ever—volunteers to tell Sweetheart Jake himself, who’s sure to understand once he knows it was Matty who tapped Jenna first. WTF????</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Anywho, said Sweetheart is whining to Ming and Tamara about the too-long delay of his online girlfriend request. ‘Cept T doesn’t have time for this cause Ricky’s scamming some bimbette on the sofa. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Jake posits the question to Jenna who’s all deflect, missing cat, deflect. And then…Crazy Cakes arrives to save the day and eventually helps J realize that you can’t let past disappointments hold you back. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">10 seconds till midnight: who’s Jenna gonna choose? Sweetheart Jake or HSF Matty? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Matty, Matty, Matty</i>…but it’s Jake who gets kissed into the New Year. Which pretty much drives drunkass Matty into the arms of unrequited-luvah Sadie. Luckily, he passes out mid-ab reveal. Phew! Crisis averted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">On to the resolutions portion of the program:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Tamara = No more Ricky. For reals this time. Wait…awww, Ricky. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Lissa = WWJD? For Life</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Jenna = No resolutions, and, okay, a slap for Jake’s ex-Lissa.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Denouement: Jake sees Jenna’s econo-box o’condoms. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wow! I’m getting lucky.</i> Oh, don’t feel so special, Sweetheart Jake, my dad gets them for all my boyfriends. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What?</i> Yeah, but only for those I REALLY love. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That was TMI.</i> Please don’t leave! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hell’s no, I’m totally getting laid!</i> Okay, but if we’re gonna do IT then I really have to change my online status to Jake’s GF for everyone to see. Oh, and confront my mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, who the hell is this Anonymous commenter?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Best quote: “I am tore up from the floor up; I am beat up from the feet up; and, I need a check up from the neck up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Best Matty/Jenna moment: When they awkwardly hug/fist bump each other at the party.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Best scene: Sadie licking the cheese flavor from the Doritos.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Shellee Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07443525883410012885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-10037309663408114492012-07-15T11:45:00.003-05:002012-07-15T11:45:36.043-05:00New Doomed ExcerptSorry, guys! The weekend got away from me. Here's the new excerpt from Doomed. Hope you like it :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“That’s not the really puzzling part,” Agent
Lessing finally continues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Especially
if you insist on your innocence in this matter, how is it that starting at
seven-fifteen this morning, someone from this IP address opened the twelve
different sections of code that make up this worm and uploaded them onto the
internet, one by one?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Emily gasps and I want to protest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to tell the FBI agent that she’s
crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That I have no idea what she’s
talking about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the truth of the
matter is that suddenly I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
exactly what I was doing at seven-fifteen this morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The tentative fairy tale I’ve been building in my
head all day—the one I wasn’t even aware of until right now—collapses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swear, I feel it shatter and my stomach,
though close to empty, chooses that moment to revolt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spring up
from my chair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Hey, you can’t go anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sit back down!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lessing tells me firmly, reaching into her
jacket and pulling out her gun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I don’t stop; I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even so, I barely make it to the trash can in
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how long I sit there,
puking my guts up, but by the time I finish, Lessing has put away her gun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Emily is looking at me in dismay, while
Mackaray and Lundstrom—who rushed in at Lessing’s alarmed shout—are wearing
identical expressions of smug triumph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even Lessing seems satisfied, and I know it’s because I’ve blown it big
time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s pretty hard to protest your innocence when you get
so upset by what they’re telling you that you hurl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I don’t get up right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I stay on the floor, my head resting
against the cool wood of a cabinet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think about my laptop, stuffed in my backpack, with all the incriminating
evidence on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think about what else
is in the bag—namely the pictures from my father that I’d shoved in there at
the last minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All twelve of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to figure out why me,
and the answer has been there all along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The psychopath who did this, the one who chose me as this harbinger of
destruction, is my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">father</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He </i>did this to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Used my curiosity against me—and the
world—and turned me into a modern-day Pandora.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like my namesake before me, I’ve brought a new kind of evil into the
world and there’s no going back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
Emily’s dad and the others can fix it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe they can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But either way,
I have a feeling that deep, dark hole they want to throw me in just got a lot
deeper and darker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Every writing campaign I’ve ever partaken in for Amnesty
International flashes through my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Letter after letter about Guantanamo Bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sierra Leon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Somalia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Story after story of Americans
taken to foreign countries and tortured because they’re suspected of
terrorism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Even as I tell myself I’m being silly, I hear the
president saying the United States doesn’t tolerate terrorists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what I am, what my father has turned
me into with a few strokes of my keyboard, a few picture downloads that I
thought were to celebrate my seventeenth birthday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A cyber terrorist</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I reach for the trash can again as dry heaves shake my
entire body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
What am I going to do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What am I going to do?<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What. Am. I. Going. To. Do?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Behind me, I hear movement and brace myself to be yanked
to my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that doesn’t
happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, Emily settles on the
ground next to me and hands me a bottle of water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rinse my mouth out, drink a few sips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she’s hugging me, stroking my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s going to be okay, Pandora,” she
whispers to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I promise. It’s going
to be okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I open my mouth, plan on telling them everything and
begging for mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, only four
words come out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four words I never thought
I’d say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I want a lawyer.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A lawyer?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mackaray’s eyes gleam with triumph as he crouches down next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pandora, where you’re going, lawyers rank
right up there with fairies and unicorns as mythical creatures.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You can’t do that!” Emily protests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She didn’t do anything wrong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father—“<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Your father is one of an elite few who could pull off
something of this magnitude, Ms. Wood.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lundstrom speaks up for the first time in a long while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“So I suggest you close your mouth unless you
want to bring a lot of trouble down on him as well.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Emily shuts up then, her eyes wide and frightened as she
presses her back against the cabinet, almost like she wants to shrink
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The arms wrapped around me start
to tremble, but I barely notice since I’m shaking just as hard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She didn’t do anything,” I tell them, wondering if I
should just tell them everything?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
If I should send them next door to retrieve my
laptop from Eli and Theo and get them involved in this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Do I admit that my father is behind this and let
them arrest him, lock him up and throw away the key like they’re threatening to
do to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if I admit I had an
unwitting part in this, are they going to believe me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The looks on their faces say no, that they’ve
already made up their minds about my guilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My best bet, then, is to wait for Mr. Wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s one of the best computer security guys
in the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll know what to do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I shut down then, refuse to say anything
else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They keep asking me questions, but
I ignore them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when Mackaray grabs
onto my arms and lifts me into a standing position, I don’t protest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll wait for Mr. Wood, I tell myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’ll be able to fix this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
As we wait, the house grows quiet around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The front door opens and closes numerous
times and I hear the slam of car doors outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rev of engines that mark the end of the search.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone else has done their jobs and now I’m
left alone with these three.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Mr. Wood finally arrives, with a police
escort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s all outrage and concern as
he wraps his arms around us, but it becomes clear very quickly that he won’t be
able to help me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s not my parent or
guardian and no matter how much he argues with the agents—he knows two of them
personally—they aren’t budging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at
least Emily seems safe, and that’s something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say, after Mr.
Wood’s been here about an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve
told him both he and Emily are free to go, but he hasn’t budged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s because he doesn’t want to leave
me alone with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Tough,” Lundstrom tells me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re not going anywhere.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Jesus, Mike, she’s just a kid!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Wood exclaims.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“She unleashed cyber Armageddon—computer genius
trumps kid every day of the week.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
“Please,” I say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I really need to use the restroom.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though I don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just want a couple of minutes alone to
think, a couple of minutes where they aren’t staring at me like a bug under a
microscope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I’ll take her,” Mackaray finally says, and I
almost change my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to
be alone with him, even for as long as it takes to walk to my bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s not like I have a choice now, not
after I made such a big deal of having to go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
We leave the kitchen together and when I try to
head upstairs to my bathroom, he grabs my elbow and directs me to the half-bath
down the hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one without any
windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shake my head in
disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They already think I’m some
kind of genius hacker-- now they think I can mastermind an escape from federal
custody as well?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who the hell do these
people think I am?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Leave the door open,” Mackaray tells me when we
get there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“What?” I stare at him incredulously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“You heard me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The face staring back at me is implacable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Where am I going to go?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no other way out of the bathroom!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Take it or leave it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something moves in his eyes and I know he’s
waiting for me to leave it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I won’t
give him the satisfaction. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Does your wife know you get your kicks by
listening to teenage girls pee?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The hand on my elbow gets tighter, his fingers
digging into my flesh until I start to see stars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulls me towards him and whispers, “You
don’t want to play games with me, little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I win every time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I’m straining so hard in the other direction that
when he finally lets me go, I stumble, crack my funny bone hard against the
door frame. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He laughs, at me and at the
helpless tears of pain that spring to my eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I go into the bathroom, leaving the door partially
ajar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turn on the faucet, splash water
on my face, blink back the tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Hurry up!” he says after a minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We don’t have all night.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Before I can respond, the lights blink once,
twice, then go out completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My entire
house is plunged into an inky blackness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“What the hell!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mackaray says, slamming the bathroom door open all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Either get it done or not, kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve got one minute and then I’m taking you
back to the kitchen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I barely hear him over the pounding of my own
heart and the panic clawing through me, trumping everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even my fear of going to jail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate the dark, hate it, hate it, hate
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever since I was five and ended up
getting trapped in my uncle’s storage shed, under a pile of heavy boxes that
fell when I was looking for my Christmas presents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’d been no lights, or windows, and I’d
laid there in the dark for hours, crying, convinced that no one was ever going
to find me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Curiosity had been my downfall then as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Tom?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lessing’s voice drifts through the hall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Yeah?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Just checking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It looks like the whole grid just went down.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I can see that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lessing must catch the sarcasm in his voice because she shuts up
quickly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Pandora—“<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In his voice is a warning and I know my time is up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he stops abruptly and there’s a muffled
thump, followed by a slithering sound that has me imagining a bunch of snakes
sliding down my hallway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I press myself
back against the wall and try not to scream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Something large moves in front of the
doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pandora?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Theo?” I whisper incredulously.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He leans forward, until his face is only
centimeters from mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s go.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His voice is pitched so low that I have to
strain to hear it even this close.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Go where?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Come on, we’ve only got a couple of minutes before they come looking for
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Looking for—you want me to break out of federal
custody?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Would you rather I leave you here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I—“ My head is spinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of all
the ways I envisioned tonight ending, this wasn’t even in the top
thousand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where’s Mackaray?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I hit him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He’s out, but I don’t know for how long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now are you coming or not?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Am I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
look back at the kitchen, where Emily and her father wait with the other
agents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t leave her—<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It’s like Theo can read my thoughts, because he
says, “Emily will be fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s not the
one in trouble here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He’s right; I know he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can I do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bad enough to be a
federal suspect—but to be a fugitive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How is it even possible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll
find us in minutes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Except, the electricity just went out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Communications are gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No cameras to catch us running by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way to get out word of a widespread
manhunt (or in this case womanhunt).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
way for them to track me when they’re basically blind, deaf and dumb. It could
work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
But still, do I really want to do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I really want to go down this road?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Hell, yes, I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I slip my hand into Theo’s, not bothering to ask
how he knew I was in trouble, and we glide as silently as possible through the
hallway into the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seems
to know exactly where he’s going and I wonder how long he’s been here, prowling
around the house, without anyone knowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He slides open the glass door that leads to the
deck just enough that we can slip out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As he silently closes the door behind us, I realize this is it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I really have reached the point of no return.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<strong>Enjoy! And remember to leave a comment to be entered to win the ARC!</strong>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-75248883696433070522012-07-11T22:32:00.001-05:002012-07-11T22:32:43.957-05:00Doomed Cover RevealI am so, so excited about finally-- after months of talking about it to anyone who will listen-- being able to reveal the brand new cover for <strong>Doomed, my January 2013 Armageddon YA novel</strong>!!!!! I am ridiculously excited about this book (maybe because I researched and worked harder on it than any of my other books EVER-- which is saying something as I love to research :). Anyway, Doomed is my retelling of the Pandora's Box myth, except instead of opening a box, my Pandora opens an attachment and hearkens technological Armageddon in the form of an MMO and a Stuxnet type computer worm. <br />
<br />
So, with no further ado ... Here's the Cover:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZQ6XHNrHrs/T_5EzR7TMJI/AAAAAAAAAcU/EXwFUksALto/s1600/doomed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZQ6XHNrHrs/T_5EzR7TMJI/AAAAAAAAAcU/EXwFUksALto/s640/doomed.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And here's a brief overview of what the book is about:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Beat the Game, Save the World.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
One Stuxnet
type worm,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
One
Greek-themed MMO,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
One real
world scavenger hunt,<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Three
teenagers on the run<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
And a
ten-day countdown to total nuclear annihilation .<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Pandora’s
Box isn’t just a myth anymore …<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
When
seventeen-year-old Pandora Walker opens an email attachment, she uploads the
most frightening worm ever invented—and in doing so, brings about total
technological Armageddon. Everything from the internet to communications to utilities
collapses and suddenly Pandora finds herself on the run from Homeland Security,
the FBI and every police department in the country, all of whom blame her for
the technological wasteland sweeping across the U.S..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the help of stepbrothers Eli and Theo,
her neighbors and the two hottest guys in school-- plus codes encrypted in a
world famous MMO--<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she sets out on a
real life scavenger hunt that only she can solve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A scavenger hunt that pits her against one of
the most brilliant men in the world—the maker of the Pandora worm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only by unraveling the clues left by him in the MMO, and in real-world
places around the U.S., can they hope to beat the clock ticking the days off until
the entire planet is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">Doomed.</span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">And, in case you're still with me, here's the prologue:</span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p>My
seventeenth birthday starts with betrayal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Lies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Mayhem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
Fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
It ends the
same way, but that’s a different part of the story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least for now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
I know that's a terrible tease, so I promise to post more tomorrow-- and all through the weekend. <strong>Post a comment on any of my posts between now and Sunday night and be entered to win an ARC of Pandora along with a signed copy of Tempest Rising and some fun swag.</strong> And if you tweet, facebook or blog about Doomed, you'll get extra entries. Thanks so much for stopping by and helping me celebrate Doomed's brand new cover!!!!Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3145237211845527491.post-48930626734191474452012-06-21T14:50:00.001-05:002012-06-21T14:50:14.175-05:00I'm Signing Books in San Diego this Saturday!!!!Hi Everyone! I'll be signing books with the fabulous Tera Lynn Childs at Mysterious Galaxy in Clairemont Mesa. Here's the address: <br />
<br />
7051 Clairemont Mesa Boulevard San Diego, CA 92111<br /> <nobr>(858) 268-4747</nobr><br />
<br />
<nobr>Would love to see some of you if you're in the area!!!!!!</nobr>Tracy Deebshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01905060663393394144noreply@blogger.com5