Dear Jacob Black - Letter to Twilight heart-throb

This is a guest post by Emlyn Chand, author of Farsighted

Dear Jacob Black,


Hi. How are you doing? Me? Not so good. You see, I have a bone to pick with you (tacky pun intended).


Okay, first of all, why on God’s green Earth did you ever fall for Bella? I mean, really. Even the most fanatic of Twi-fans can’t understand what you see in her. You are so much better than Bella Swan-Cullen (insert gagging noises here).


No, don’t get down on yourself, you are!


Look at you; you’re a hulking stack of gorgeousness both on paper and on-screen. You’re also really sweet and funny and strong and... swoon... Did I tell you that my husband is Indian—mind you, he’s not the same kind of Indian as you, but yeah, I appreciate that look (wink, wink, Jakey boy).


Back to my point... I don’t think I ever would have finished the entire Saga if it hadn’t been for you. You are just the kind of guy I would love to be friends with. You made Twilight so, so interesting. And that scene at the end of Eclipse when you told Edward that Bella loves you too? I almost died. I mean, that was one of the best scenes in modern fiction. Seriously, Jacob, it was, and that was because of you!


It’s cool how you were always there for Bella, no matter what the consequences—not that she deserved your unwavering loyalty. It is also cool how you not only ride motorcycles, but you also fix them. You’re a man’s man and a ladies’ man, Jacob Black.


But do you wanna know what’s not cool? It’s so not cool how you fell in love with baby Renesme.


So. Not. Cool!


I understand that there was some kind of cosmic imprinting thing going on, but yuck! I mean, she’s a baby, and she’s not even interesting anyway. I personally think your saga would have ended much better if there had never ever been a Renesme. She shouldn’t’ve existed not only from the freak of nature standpoint (cus let’s face it, you’re a freak of nature too, and I like you a whole lot), but from a literary standpoint. I don’t feel like she contributed to the plot at all. It was kind of a mess.


But what do you know about that? Did I just rock your world by revealing that your whole existence takes place within the pages of a book? I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to reveal this secret. Darn it! I have to be more careful.


But now that you do know and hopefully you’ve recovered from the shock a bit, I have to say this: the imprinting business with Renesme, that’s not really the universe playing games with you. It’s Stephenie Meyer. Oh, in case you didn’t know, Stephenie Meyer is the name of your God. She created you.


Anyway, I believe she had you imprint on Renesme for two reasons:


1. She didn’t want you to be alone after Bella rejected you but also decided to keep you hanging around on a tight leash (another bad pun, sorry) – but this bit shows that your God does love you – yay!


2. She was sick of people saying that 100ish-year-old Edward diggin’ on 18-year-old Bella was disgusting. She wanted them to be like Romeo and Juliet, so innocent, so fated. So what does she do? She takes the heat off of them by giving you an even more disgusting love affair. Gee, thanks, Steph.


I personally think you should be with Leah Clearwater. Maybe if the two of you both gouge out your eyes all Oedipus Rex-style, that horrific imprint will go away, and you can just be together.


I also think there’s a chance you could find happiness with Shapri Teak—she lives inside of my book, Farsighted. I’d be more than happy to introduce you...


So...


In summary, while Ms. Meyer clearly loved you, she loved Edward more.


Just like Bella. Ha, burn!





I come from a place of kindness. Eternally yours,












PS Edward sucks! Team Jacob!


PPS Do you know a guy named Sirius Black? If so, are you related to him? You have more in common than just your last name---aaaaawoooo!

Blog Tour Notes

THE BOOK:  Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t.  When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider. Get your copy today by visiting Amazon.com’s Kindle store or the eBook retailer of your choice. The paperback edition will be available on November 24 (for the author’s birthday).


THE CASH PRIZES:  Guess what? You could win a $100 Amazon gift card as part of this special blog tour. That’s right! Just leave a comment below saying something about the post you just read, and you’ll be entered into the raffle. I could win $100 too! Please help by voting for my blog in the traffic-breaker poll. To cast your vote, visit the official Farsighted blog tour page and scroll all the way to the bottom. Thank you for your help with that.


THE GIVEAWAYS:  Win 1 of 10 autographed copies of Farsighted before its paperback release by entering the giveaway on GoodReads. Perhaps you’d like an autographed postcard from the author; you can request one on her site.


THE AUTHOR:  Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb. Visit www.emlynchand.com for more info. Don’t forget to say “hi” to her sun conure Ducky!


MORE FUN: There's more fun below. Watch the live action Farsighted book trailer and take the quiz to find out which character is most like you!

Farsighted by Emlyn Chand

Alex Kosmitoras’s life has never been easy. The only other student who will talk to him is the school bully, his parents are dead-broke and insanely overprotective, and to complicate matters even more, he’s blind. Just when he thinks he’ll never have a shot at a normal life, a new girl from India moves into town. Simmi is smart, nice, and actually wants to be friends with Alex. Plus she smells like an Almond Joy bar. Yes, sophomore year might not be so bad after all.
Unfortunately, Alex is in store for another new arrival—an unexpected and often embarrassing ability to “see” the future. Try as he may, Alex is unable to ignore his visions, especially when they begin to suggest that Simmi is in danger. With the help of the mysterious psychic next door and new friends who come bearing gifts of their own, Alex must embark on a journey to change his future.


About the author:

From an early age, Emlyn Chand has counted books among her best friends. She loves to hear and tell stories and emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). Her affinity for the written word extends to absolutely every area of her life:  she has written two-and-a-half novels, leads a classics book group with over three hundred members, and, of course, runs the whole shebang at Novel Publicity, where she contributes her business and marketing savvy as well as her writing and web design talents. The book that changed Emlyn’s life is Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crocket Johnson. It opened her eyes to the world that could exist if only she was willing to create it—a lesson she has never forgotten. She now reads an average of one book per week. While she enjoys all types of novels, her greatest loves are literary fiction and YA.

My review:

Can  I have this dance?

So that is exactly what I'd ask Alex if I ever got a chance to meet him. Without shame. That's what happens when an author creates a character so well, that a reader can't help but fall in love.

I would like to congratulate Emlyn Chand on writing a brilliant and engaging debut novel.

 
With that said, in Emlyn Chand's debut novel Farsighted was one of the best original paranormal novels I’ve read this year, scratch that, the best. She does an amazing job of describing in detail how Alex perceives his surroundings by what he hears, touches, smells, tastes and feels. And she did an exceptional job on Alex’s character as a blind teenage boy’s POV.

It’s been a while since I read a book this brilliant in all ways: The characters were well drawn, the pacing was wonderfully done, and  the descriptions were superb. I could see the world through Alex. Alex character is original. He’s blind but that doesn’t limit him to do stuff. In a way, I think it makes him stronger and the best thing about his character, he doesn’t feel sorry for himself.  He is gifted with 'the second sight' which enables him to see the future and present.

 It was a treat to get to know him through his thoughts and all his teenager behaviours and emotions. And for writing an MC in a guy’s POV, Ms. Chand did an exceptional job of it.  It was also fun reading about the other character’s as well, Simmi, Alex's love interest is strong and encouraging. Shapri who completes this triangle is never afraid to speak her mind and always seems to yank Alex out of his comfort zone in the begining of the book. For a second there - and I emphasis second - I really wanted him to kiss Shapri.

 As I don’t want to give much away, I highly recommend Farsighted. I’m eagerly looking forward to reading the follow-up of this novel. This book is a treasure and I’ll be keeping it on my shelf for years to come.
5 stars.

 

Blog Tour Notes

THE BOOK:  Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t.  When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider. Get your copy today by visiting Amazon.com’s Kindle store or the eBook retailer of your choice. The paperback edition will be available on November 24 (for the author’s birthday).

THE CASH PRIZES:  Guess what? You could win a $100 Amazon gift card as part of this special blog tour. That’s right! Just leave a comment below saying something about the post you just read, and you’ll be entered into the raffle. I could win $100 too! Please help by voting for my blog in the traffic-breaker poll. To cast your vote, visit the official Farsighted blog tour page and scroll all the way to the bottom. Thank you for your help with that.

THE GIVEAWAYS:  Win 1 of 10 autographed copies of Farsighted before its paperback release by entering the giveaway on GoodReads. Perhaps you’d like an autographed postcard from the author; you can request one on her site.

THE AUTHOR:  Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb. Visit www.emlynchand.com for more info. Don’t forget to say “hi” to her sun conure Ducky!

MORE FUN: There's more fun below. Watch the live action Farsighted book trailer and take the quiz to find out which character is most like you!

 

Guest Post - Susan Kaye's Open Mind's Trilogy released today

ing Stuff Up, or How to Get From A to B

by Susan Kaye Quinn, author of Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy)

The best and worst question a writer can get is “where do your ideas come from?” Just ask a writer and see what happens. They hem and haw. They get a bit flustered and check their watch. Then they ask for a cupcake.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Ideas come from everywhere and nowhere. My stories are filled with bits and pieces of my life, as well as things that I’ve never experienced (and never will). My experiences of working for NASA, traveling across the country, and falling in love all play into it. It’s part of your Voice and who you are as a writer. But coming up with specific ideas for actual stories is a bit more complicated.

When I first started writing, I just sat down and started. I had no idea where I was going, so what filled the page was often a lot of meandering, but usually in a logical progression. Walk down the street; turn right; turn left. The idea of where to turn came when I reached a fork in the road.

Later in my writing journey, I brought a map. I knew vaguely where I wanted to go, and I had something that resembled directions, but it was really more like a landscape with elevations and contours and somehow I had left my compass behind. Writing was like heading to the store by walking down the street, three left turns and we’ll be somewhere in the vicinity. I might even get snacks, if I could only hop that last plot hole. I had to get a little inventive to get to the finish line, but writing was still usually just going from point A to point B.

Along the way, my writing evolved into a conflict centered process. I knew exactly where my characters needed to go and vaguely how to get there. Then I put them in a box they couldn’t possibly get out of. I tossed the map, and dumped on the table all the ingredients we had to play with. Duct tape, a section of hose, a ball of twine and a puppy. Ideas were thrown around, turned upside down, and tormented. Finally, the character would climb out of the hole. Only to fall in another. Rinse. Repeat.

This was where my creative engine really started to hum. But I couldn’t have possibly started there. It would have stalled out in a cold panic and never started again.

I recently gave some advice to someone dear to me, who was considering picking up the pen again after a long hiatus. She wanted to know if she should get some books on plotting, so she would have some idea of what to write, before she actually wrote it. I said books on plotting were like a GPS—great for giving you directions to somewhere you already wanted to go. But I told her she was just a baby, trying to figure out how to haul herself up on her two feet and get across the room. Babies don’t need a GPS. They need determination.

And new writers need to just write.

So, it turns out, I started in exactly the right place without knowing it.

While I was writing Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy), I went through all these stages of idea generation. First, choosing logically how the world would unfold. Then, having some idea of where the story needed to go. Finally, building the conflicts so that my characters had to fight their way through the story.

The idea for a mindreading world came in a flash of brain spark. But coming up with mindware interfaces, mindreading range ordinances, and scribepads? That was all crunching away at problems thrown up by the story itself. I invented a flushable garbage system because Kira needed to get rid of something so that it wouldn’t be found. I created a paper book pod in the library, because it made sense that paper books would be long gone, and I needed a secluded spot for the scene. I dreamed up mindware interfaces because the tech guys were sure to have built some way to read thoughts.

So, where do my ideas come from? They are beaten out of my brain by hours at the keyboard, imagining all kinds of ways that things can go wrong, and then eventually go right. There’s no shortcut. Writing is one of the purest forms of creativity, and that stuff works your brain like crazy.

Have a cupcake. J

*********************

See more guest posts about Open Minds at the Virtual Launch Party

When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.

Sixteen-year-old Kira Moore is a zero, someone who can’t read thoughts or be read by others. Zeros are outcasts who can’t be trusted, leaving her no chance with Raf, a regular mindreader and the best friend she secretly loves. When she accidentally controls Raf’s mind and nearly kills him, Kira tries to hide her frightening new ability from her family and an increasingly suspicious Raf. But lies tangle around her, and she’s dragged deep into a hidden world of mindjackers, where having to mind control everyone she loves is just the beginning of the deadly choices before her.

Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy) by Susan Kaye Quinn is available for $2.99 in e-book (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords) and $9.99 in print (Amazon, Createspace).

*********************

PRIZES!

Susan Kaye Quinn is giving away an Open Books/Open Minds t-shirt, mug, and some fun wristbands to celebrate the Virtual Launch Party of Open Minds (Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy)! (Check out the prizes here.)

Three ways to enter (you can have multiple entries):

1)      Leave a comment here or at the Virtual Launch Party post

2)      Tweet (with tag #keepingOPENMINDS)

Example: When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep. #keepingOPENMINDS @susankayequinn #SF #YA avail NOW http://bit.ly/psX1Hh

Example: Celebrate the launch of OPEN MINDS by @susankayequinn #keepingOPENMINDS #SciFi #paranormal #YA avail NOW http://bit.ly/SKQOpenMinds

3)     Facebook (tag @AuthorSusanKayeQuinn)

Example: Celebrate the launch of paranormal/SF novel OPEN MINDS by @AuthorSusanKayeQuinn for a chance to win Open Books/Open Minds prizes!

Spotlight on Fiona 'McDroll' Johnson

  

Today, I have the awesome pleasure of welcoming one of Trestle Press fantastic new authors, Fiona 'McDroll' Johnson, the author of 'KICK IT', for chat. 

Why crime writing?

I’ve always wanted to write as far back as I can remember and over the years I’ve had various disastrous attempts that just didn’t work. My writing was boring, bland and twee. I had come to the conclusion that I just didn’t have what it takes.

Then I joined Twitter and quickly discovered that there were lots of writers around the world tweeting about their writing. They would discuss their difficulties, the characters they wrote about and the struggle to get published.

Slowly I crept into this circle of talented people and as I have always been a rabid reader of crime fiction, I thought that if I couldn’t write then at least I could review and be a little help to those with talent struggling to get noticed.

Eventually some very kind people asked if I wrote. After the initial, ‘no, no, no,’ I decided to give the writing lark another go but this time try to write within the crime genre….and that’s all it took. My years of reading crime have somehow helped me understand how to write the type of story that people seem to get a lot of fun out of reading.

Who do you read?

I’ve really enjoyed reading SMOKE by Nigel Bird, another Trestle author. The story alternates between its two main characters, Jimmy and Carlos. Jimmy is still at school, theoretically, but is one of those lads who has fallen through the cracks in the system and is more likely to be seen pounding the streets of his local community begging smokes or getting blitzed out of his head with his mates.

Carlos has a swanky new motorised wheelchair, top notch, and was Jimmy's sister's boyfriend before somebody tied him to a railway line and he lost an arm and a leg. After a long period of therapy he's back on the local scene and hopes that Kylie will take him back and will allow him access to their young son. Problems start when Kylie declares that the child isn't his.........

I love Nigel’s gritty realism and I can see his characters when I walk down any high street in the towns of Scotland.

Tell us abit more about your books and working with Trestle Press

To have a book published is a magical experience that very few people ever get to achieve, but thanks to TRESTLE PRESS and their amazing outlook on the revolution of digital publishing about to hit readers around the world like a literary tsunami, more amazing writers will be able to get their writing out there to an ever increasing digital audience.

My first collection of short stories, KICK IT has just been published this week and my goodness, I certainly did get a kick from seeing my book up there for sale on Amazon. KICK IT is a collection of 5 short noir / crime stories with a little twist of Scottish humour thrown into the mix.

Three of the stories have my favourite character, DC Gemma Dixon, strutting her stuff around the crime scene of Glasgow. New to CID, Gemma has to learn very quickly to stand up for herself in male dominated environments where as the newbie she gets some of the roughest assignments on offer.

I love having fun with Gemma as she banters with her fellow officers, making sure that she asserts herself and doesn’t take any of their cheek.

 

My other two stories deal with our perceptions of people and I attempt to show how far off the mark we can be when we don’t take the time to dig a bit deeper into ‘hidden stories;’ the secrets that people keep close to their chests as they go about their daily lives. So much can be going on beneath a person’s outward shell and I try to uncover some of these tales.

So I hope you check out my first ever e-Book and please let me know what you think!

http://www.amazon.com/Kick-It-ebook/dp/B005ZMTZBI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319826524&sr=8-1

 

What’s next?

I’m hoping to have another collection of short stories KICK IT AGAIN out soon and then move onto a serialization of a novella that I’ve been working on for some time. More ‘Gemma’ stories are in the pipeline and you will be able to meet Gemma again in BRIT GRIT 2, soon to be published by TRESTLE.

Thank you for the chat, Fiona, and I wish you all the best with 'KICK IT' and upcoming 'KICK IT AGAIN' short stories.

CeCe

Let's get the drums rolling for Emlyn Chand's Farsighted.

Have you heard about Emyln Chand's Farsighted? The new rockin' sensation paranormal novel on the block?


Today I'd like to share an excerpt from Emlyn Chand's hot new paranormal novel, Farsighted (it just released on 10/24). Before diving in, check out this teaser for the book:


Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t. When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider.


Okay, now that you're caught up, on to the excerpt! I hope you'll enjoy it.

Farsighted: Chapter 1

Our hero is about to embark on a journey. Life as he knows it is quiet, boring, and predictable, but it’s also comforting and familiar. That will soon change.






Today is the last day of summer, but I’m not doing anything even remotely close to fun. I’m just lying here in Mom’s garden, running my hands over the spiky blades of grass—back and forth, back and forth until my fingertips go numb. Until everything goes numb. I sigh, but no one’s around to hear.


“Alex,” Dad yells from the kitchen window. “Dinner.”


Already? How long have I been out here? I spring up from the ground and the grass springs up with me, one blade at a time – boing, boink, boint. The sounds would be imperceptible to any normal person, but they roar inside my ears. I picture an army of earthworms raising the blades as spears in their turf wars and smile to myself.


Dad opens the back door and calls out to me again. “C’mon, Alex. What’s taking you so long?”


Grabbing my cane, I shuffle over to the house, brushing past him as I squeeze inside. The kitchen reeks of fast food restaurants and movie theaters—butter and grease. That means it’s breakfast for dinner. We do this every Sunday night, because Mom goes out to garden club and Dad doesn’t know how to cook anything else. Plus it’s cheap.


Breathing heavily, Dad plunks some food onto both our plates and collapses into his chair. He groans and asks me to pass the butter, or rather the “bud-dah.” He grew up in Boston and every once in a while the accent works itself into his speech.


I slide the tub to dad; he reaches out and stops it before it can glide clear off the table.


“What’s this?” Dad asks.


“Uh, the butter. Obviously.”


Dad’s voice raises an octave. “I know it’s the butter, so don’t get smart. Why’d you give it to me?”


“Uh, because you asked me to.”


“No, I didn’t.” He exhales as if the wind has been knocked out of him by an ill-timed punch to the stomach. “Guess you must’ve read my mind.” He chuckles to himself and slides the cool metal knife into the butter and scrapes it across his toast.


Dad and I don’t usually talk to each other unless Mom is around, asking about our days, chatting on, working hard to create those warm and fuzzy family moments we don’t seem to create naturally. And even though Mom has reassured me a million times, I know that Dad resents me for being born blind.


I can tell he would have much rather had a son like Brady—the same guy who insists on making my high school experience as difficult as possible. Nothing’s worse than knowing that your own father thinks you’re a loser.


Dad and I finish our meal in silence and my mind wanders.


He rises suddenly from his chair, breaking apart my thoughts. “Let’s get this table cleared before your mother comes home,” he says, without pronouncing the r in cleared.


I stand too and pick up my plate and glass. Guess I’ll pass on that fifth biscuit.


“Your mother has a surprise for you.”


I smile for my dad’s benefit. My parents are horrible at keeping secrets. Last night, I overheard them talking in their room. Mom was bragging about how she found some “cute” new shades on Wal-Mart’s clearance rack.


About ten minutes later, the tires of Mom’s van crunch on the gravel in our driveway with lots of little pings and a big cuh-clunk. As usual, she steers directly into the pothole we don’t have the money to repair. Sometimes I wonder if she does it on purpose.


The door creaks open, inviting a comforting floral fragrance into the house. Mom always smells like flowers—today it’s tulips and jasmine. She steps lightly across the floor and places a wet kiss on my cheek. When she turns to greet Dad, I wipe at the left-over moistness with my shirt sleeve. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing—been too old for a while now actually, but this doesn’t seem to matter to her.


“How was your day, my little sapling?” she asks. I really wish she would stop calling me her “little sapling.”


“Hi, Mom.” I hug her, because it makes her happy.


“Are you excited for tomorrow?”


I snap my fingers, which is how I say “yes” without actually saying it, kind of how most people nod their heads. I’m excited to learn, to have something to do other than lie in the grass, to possibly make a friend. More than likely though, things won’t change. I’ll still be an outcast. I’ll still be all by myself, but at least I’ll know where I stand. No more wondering.


“A sophomore already! I hope I can keep up enough to help you with your homework,” Dad says, acting like a completely different person than he was just a few minutes ago. He has this way of being nicer to me whenever Mom is around. I know it’s for show, and it pisses me off.


Ignoring him, I turn toward Mom. “So, Dad told me you’ve got a surprise for me?” I’d rather get this over with quickly before they try too hard to build up the suspense.


“Oh, yes,” she chirps, fluttering over to the other side of the living room, pulling out the drawer of the small table in the corner, and rustling the unpaid bills inside. She comes back over to me and places a small bag in my lap.


“Wait,” Dad says as my hand is about to reach inside the bag. “Before you open that, I just want to say that I know we haven’t been able to give you as many back-to-school supplies as you need this year. Your backpack is starting to tear and your boots are scuffed…”


I had no idea my boots were scuffed, but now that he’s pointed it out, it’s all I can think about.


“And all of this is my fault,” Dad continues as I wonder how badly my boots are scuffed. Where? On the heel? On the toe?


Mom clicks her tongue and rubs Dad’s shoulder sympathetically, dragging her fingernails across his thick shirt. The scratching sound draws my attention back to his melodramatic speech.


“I want to make you a promise, as soon as I get a job we’re going to buy all of those things for you. Okay?”


“It’s okay, Dad. I don’t need anything.” Except for you to be nice to me even when Mom isn’t around, and, oh yeah, a friend or two.


“That’s my brave little oak tree,” Mom says, giving me another hug. I swear, sometimes I think she’s from another planet, or at least another time period. But still, she loves me, even if she’s constantly saying stupid things like that.


When they seem to have nothing more to say, my left hand reaches into the bag and brings a pair of sunglasses up into the palm. I run my right hand over them, trying to make out their shape. They’ve got hard plastic frames and cushiony rubber ends for where they sit on top of the ears. They’re broad in front; the rim goes in a straight line all the way across about a half an inch above the nosepiece. These aren’t the normal bookworm glasses. They’re cool guy glasses.


“We thought you deserved a new pair of cool guy glasses since you’re practically sixteen,” Mom says.


Ugh, I hate when she uses the same words as me. I make a mental note never to say, or think, the words “cool guy glasses” again.


“And they’re even your favorite color!” Mom shouts, unable to contain herself.


Then they’re green. I “see” color through my nose and like green best because so many of the best-smelling things are that hue, like grass and leaves and vegetables and limes. But with green glasses, I’m afraid I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb—a sore green thumb. I smile and reach out my arms. Both my parents come in for a hug. I whisper a quick prayer for tomorrow and head to bed.










The next morning, my alarm starts yelling at six o’clock. Is it excited or trying to give me a warning? Well, time to get this over with, time to see if this year will be any different from all the crappy ones before. I reach over and flip the off-switch and stumble about in a sleepy haze, getting ready for the first day of the new school year.


On the way to the bathroom, I stub my toe on some bulky object that’s just sitting in the middle of the hallway, not even pushed up against the wall. I kick it to the side—clunk, straight into the wall—and continue to the bathroom. I shouldn’t need my cane to get around my own house. That had to be something of Dad’s. What, is he actually trying to kill me now?


I turn the shower knob and wait for the water to get warm. It’s taking forever since I’m the first one up today. Aggravated by the wait, I go back into the hall to find that object again. Stooping down, I attempt to work out the shape. Rectangular, with a handle, made of leather or something leather-like, with little metal clasps. A briefcase, I guess. But Dad’s a contractor, why would he need a briefcase? Why now? I flip the clasp, eager to find out what’s inside. But the case doesn’t open. Brushing my fingers across the top again, I find a twisty-turny thing on either side. A combination lock. If it’s so important, why’s it laying here in the middle of the hall like a discarded sock?


A wall of steam pushes into my back, returning my attention to the running shower. I return the case to its original position in the middle of the hall and go to wash up for school. Afterward, I towel off and put on my favorite shirt, which is soft and made of flannel. I wear my favorite pants too—they’re baggy with big pockets on the sides. As I’m pulling them on, I feel a tickle at my ankles where the hem now rests two full inches above where it should be. I groan, realizing I must’ve grown over the summer. How much taller can I get? I’m really tall now, at least a couple of inches over six feet, but we just don’t have the money to keep buying me new clothes every time I grow another inch.


To add the finishing touch to my first-day-of-school look, I slip my new cool guy glasses—er, sunglasses—on over my nose. The lenses are extra thick. Probably, if I wanted, I could sleep in class and no teacher would ever notice. But I’m not like that; I like to learn.


“Honey?” Mom calls from the end of the hallway. “Are you ready?”


“Yeah, I’m coming,” I yell back. “Just a sec.” I fiddle with my boots, trying to stuff my pants into them, so no one at school sees they’re too short. I’m sure this makes me look even more like a teenage Paul Bunyan than usual, but I don’t care. The boots are comfortable and help to support my ankles. Anyway I could probably wear nothing but expensive designer clothes and still be considered a freak.


Before standing, I run my hands over my feet. The right boot has a long narrow indentation across the toe. They are scuffed. Great. With a drawn-out sigh, I pick up my backpack and walk over to the kitchen where Mom is waiting. She has way too much energy for this early in the day.


“Yogurt with berries fresh from the garden,” she says, placing a glass in my hand. “You can eat in the car.”


“Thanks, Mom.” I jab a heaping spoonful into my mouth and finish it in five huge bites, then grab my cane from the hook near the front door, loop the cord around my wrist, and follow Mom out to the driveway where the rattly old family van is parked. As she shifts the car into drive, sadness washes over me. I’m almost sixteen, but I’ll never be able to drive. I’ll always be forced to rely on my parents for everything, my entire life.


We drive the twelve minutes to school, while Mom talks non-stop about new beginnings and the “carefree happiness of youth.” When the van stops, I take a deep breath, and wrap my fingers around the door handle, ready to find out what’s in store for me this year at Grandon High.


“Hey, Alex?” Mom stops me just as I’m about to step out onto the curb. I pause and wait. “Have a good day at school.”


“I will.”


“Dad’ll pick you up and bring you to the shop in the afternoon, okay?”


“Okay. Bye, Mom.” The longer we draw this scene out, the higher the chances of her kissing me on the head or calling me her “little sapling.” I just can’t risk starting out the year on such an embarrassing note.


I get out of the car and head straight inside the building. A bunch of kids are hanging around outside, chatting away about their summers, getting back into the swing of things. They don’t notice me as I slink by and make my way to my first hour, English—I memorized the location of all of my classes during the summer, so I wouldn’t embarrass myself by getting lost or arriving after the bell rings.


Entering the classroom, I drop my backpack on the floor, and prop my cane between the seat and the desk; that way it’s near at hand and easy to get later. Nobody else is here yet, not even the teacher. Bored already, I decide to go get a drink of water from the fountain. As I’m rounding the corner of the familiar hall, the air gets heavy like it does after a rainstorm. The aroma of wet grass and asphalt overpowers my senses. This definitely seems out of place for a high school hallway.


“Hey, Alex, how was it today?” Dad asks in a much better mood than usual.


I turn around in shock. What is my Dad doing here? Mom just dropped me off. Dad should be in bed still, not here at school embarrassing me.


“Dad?” I ask tentatively. “Dad, what are you doing here?”


“I’m not your daddy, you no-eyed freak!” comes the voice of Brady Evans, the running-back of the school’s Junior Varsity football team—my biggest enemy.


The air becomes lighter all of a sudden, as if a vacuum cleaner has sucked up all the humidity. The fragrance of sweat and Axe deodorant spray fills my nostrils. I’m totally confused now.


“Brady?”


“No, it’s your daddy. Loser…” Laughter comes from at least six different people, most of them girls.


“Sorry,” I mumble and head back to English class, forgetting to get my drink of water. Brady and his entourage follow me in, making jokes at my expense.


I put my head down on my desk, wishing I was a chameleon, so I could become one with the desk and fade out of view—being a reptile couldn’t be that much worse than having to endure high school.


“Mr. Kosmitoras, could you please come here?” the teacher calls, butchering the pronunciation of my name.


“Um, it’s Caas-me-toe-rh-aas actually,” I respond, getting up and walking over to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Brady and his friends are still laughing. I hope they’ve moved onto a new topic.


“Here are your textbooks for the year. We’re starting out with this basic reader,” she says, plopping a thick book into my hands. “Then we’ll be moving on to The Odyssey and finally Romeo and Juliet.” She places these into my outstretched palms as well.


“Thanks,” I mutter and head back to my seat. I begin skimming the basic reader, flipping through several pages at once, randomly trailing my finger over little snippets of text. Since no school around here caters specifically to visually impaired kids, my teachers special-order textbooks in braille for me. That’s all I need to get by, really. With very few exceptions, I can do anything other kids my age do. I’ve been this way my whole life; I know how to make it work.


Bit by bit, the other students trickle into the class. Someone who smells like cherry candy sits down across the room. Then, a series of loud thuds comes from that direction—she must’ve dropped her books.


“Simmi! Simmi, Jeez! Don’t make so much noise!” says some boy, who sounds a bit like Brady, but I don’t think is Brady. I don’t know anybody named Simmi, so this girl must be a new student. Why’s this boy being so mean to her already? Hope rises within me. Maybe she’ll be an outcast too; the two of us could team up.


The bell rings, taking away the cherries. I don’t pay any attention to the teacher as she introduces herself to the class. Instead, I think about the strange things that have been happening today. What was in that briefcase in the hall this morning, and why couldn’t I open it? Why did I think Brady Evans was my dad? Why do we have to read Romeo and Juliet this year in English class? We’re less than five minutes into first period, and my hopes for the new year are pretty much dashed.

Blog Tour Notes

THE BOOK:  Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t.  When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider. Get your copy today by visiting Amazon.com’s Kindle store or the eBook retailer of your choice. The paperback edition will be available on November 24 (for the author’s birthday).


THE CASH PRIZES:  Guess what? You could win a $100 Amazon gift card as part of this special blog tour. That’s right! Just leave a comment below saying something about the post you just read, and you’ll be entered into the raffle. I could win $100 too! Please help by voting for my blog in the traffic-breaker poll. To cast your vote, visit the official Farsighted blog tour page and scroll all the way to the bottom. Thank you for your help with that.


THE GIVEAWAYS:  Win 1 of 10 autographed copies of Farsighted before its paperback release by entering the giveaway on GoodReads. Perhaps you’d like an autographed postcard from the author; you can request one on her site.


THE AUTHOR:  Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb. Visit www.emlynchand.com for more info. Don’t forget to say “hi” to her sun conure Ducky!


MORE FUN: There's more fun below. Watch the live action Farsighted book trailer and take the quiz to find out which character is most like you!

Dirty Little Secret 27/10/2011

 

Dirty Little Secret is a weekly meme hosted by Under the covers Every Thursday we get to know other bloggers and our readers more intimately by asking them a question hoping to reveal their dirty little secrets.  We hope that you will all join us!


To participate in the meme all you need to do is:


1. Be a follower of Under the covers
2. Create a post in your blog taking the meme image and copy instructions.
3. Answer the question we propose! This can be done in any way you like, post a video, write a post etc.
4.  Add your link to the Mister Linky's in the Dirty Little Secret post @Under the covers




This weeks question is:

"If you could shape shift into anything, what would it be?" 

A dragila without a doubt: That's my own Shapeshifer Supernatural beings in my book series I'm currently editing. Dragon and Vila = Dragila. A dragon's attitude and a vila's charm.

eSPOOK-A-LICIOUS: WHERE BOO-KS DEVOUR YOU:

BLOG HOP TOUR OCT 17-24

Courtesy of:

Enchanted muse and blog tours

1) HAVE FUN!!!

2) INVITE ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS!!! SPREAD THE WORD!!!

3) THIS TOUR STARTS: Monday, October 17, at Midnight (Arizona Time)
    THIS TOUR ENDS: Monday, October 24, at Midnight (Arizona Time)
    Winners will be drawn and posted October 25th! ***

4) MEET AND MINGLE WITH ALL THE AUTHORS & BOOK PAGES! EXPERIENCE A NEW DESTINATION AT EVERY STOP! PARTICIPATE IN EVERY BLOG CONTEST AND BE ENTERED FOR CHANCES TO WIN MULTIPLE PRIZES! EVERY BLOG VISITED IS ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY TO WIN!!

5) PARTICIPATION AT ALL BLOGS IS RECOMMENDED, BUT NOT REQUIRED. REMEMBER, THE MORE BLOGS YOU HOP, THE BETTER YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING PRIZES. EVERY AUTHOR & BOOK PAGE IS WAITING TO MEET AND INTERACT WITH YOU, SO PLEASE BE SURE TO SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!

6) DID I MENTION TO HAVE FUN? WHOO! HOO!! HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 ***Authors & Book Pages have full discretion to choose an alternate winner in the event any winner fails to claim their prize(s) within 72 hours of their name being posted or after notification of win, whichever comes first. Anyone who participates in this blog hop tour is subject to these rules***

 

I was late putting this up, but never late than never, right?  And it's fun!! Click  HERE to visit the other blogs. 

So, my giveaway is the first installment of my  YA debut novel  'The Grim Reaper's Novice The Soul Collector series'. All you have to do is:


1. Read the Excerpt. If you enjoyed reading it and would like to know what happens after, please comment and leave your email address so I can send it to you as a pdf.


Actually that's it. 

You can find me on twitter: CeCeMR
Goodreads: Cecilia Robert

Thanks for stopping by and happy hopping!