Giveaways, Readaways

So recently I've been informed of this wonderful new site called Readaways.  As this post title might suggest, this site is all about book giveaways.  In short, a book nerd's paradise.

Readaways is still a relatively new site, so the site content is a bit limited.  But already some wonderful giveaways have been hosted and over 30 winners picked.  Perhaps my favorite aspect of Readaways is the easy-to-navigate design.  

It doesn't get simpler than that!

Writers, you also have the chance to showcase your work on the site's "Flash Fiction" page and "Authors' Lounge."  Simply fill out the submission guideline and that's that.

And to top it all off, everyone can enter the monthly Kindle giveaway :)

In conclusion: 

Do you like books? Do you like free books? Go check out Readaways.  

Do you like to write? Do you want to showcase your work? Go check out Readaways.

Google Plus: +ReadAways   Twitter: @ReadAways

That's it, my friends!

Happy readings,

Tina

Book Tour+Giveaway: A Matter of Heart

Title: A Matter of Heart

Author: Amy Fellner Dominy

Genre: YA

Book Blurb: 

Readers will happily sink into this emotionally grounded, contemporary young adult novel about the sudden end of one girl's Olympic swimming dreams and the struggles she endures before realizing there are many things that define who we are.

Sixteen-year-old Abby Lipman is on track to win the state swim championships and qualify for the Olympic trials when a fainting incident at a swim meet leads to the diagnosis of a deadly heart condition. Now Abby is forced to discover who she is without the one thing that's defined her entire life.

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes and Noble


The Story in 5 Gifs
(and how do you pronounce that word anyways? "jiff" or "ghiff"?)

You’re sixteen and you’re one of the top swimmers in the country.

You have a hot boyfriend who also swims, an amazing best friend, and you’re three weeks away from making the Olympic trials—your dream since you first jumped into a pool. Life is freaking fantastic. 

And then you faint.

The doctor tells you not to swim. The coach tells you not to swim.

But doctors are wrong. Coaches are overly careful.

How can you quit now?

Your boyfriend is freaked out. Your best friend. Your parents. Your coach.

And the one person who understands poses a different kind of danger to your heart.

If your dream is worth living for, it’s worth dying for…isn’t it?

About the Author

Amy Fellner Dominy worked as a copywriter in the advertising business before leaving to earn her MFA in playwriting. Her plays for adults and children have been staged in various cities around the country. Amy's novels for teens include OyMG (Walker, 2011) and AUDITION & SUBTRACTION (Walker, 2012.) Amy's next book is a contemporary YA coming Spring, 2015 from Random House. It's called A MATTER OF HEART.

Website | Goodreads | Twitter | Facebook

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Blitz+Giveaway: The Line

Title: The Line

Author: William L J Galaini

Genre: Sci Fi

Book Blurb: 

Suspended in the nothing between timelines, the station Janus is an unseen marvel: the greatest technological achievement in human innovation. From Janus, Gustavo and his hand-selected team of historians and engineers venture into the past and observe history, unseen and unnoticed. 

But they are not alone.

Another traveler is shattering history. Unhindered by desires to remain scientific and uninvolved, the intruder’s technology is far advanced with methods more brutal and a present more terrifying than anything Gustavo and his team are prepared for. As they apply their intellects and skills towards solving the mystery of the ferocious interloper, they discover than they have its full attention.

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Goodreads

About the Author

William Galaini grew up in Pennsylvania and Florida. His mother gave him an early love of reading, especially when it came to the great classics of science fiction. He is also a history buff and fascinated by mythology and folklore. His various vocational pursuits include being a singer in a professional high school choir, manager of the call center at a luxury resort, U.S. Army medic, prison guard, and middle school English teacher. As such, he is perfectly suited to breech a solid metal door, humanely restrain the enemy within, and politely correct their grammar all while humming Handel’s Messiah and drinking a lovely cuppa tea.

He currently hangs his hat, rucksack, and tweed smoking jacket in Northern Virginia.

The Line by William Galaini

Excerpt

1.

Mary wasn’t certain what woke her up. Her body was long and taut like a firm rubber band, and in a sleepy haze she stretched out with a prolonged groan. Soon after, she pulled her tangled hair from her face and first one eye was purged of morning crusties, then the other. Curling her toes, tensing her calves, and stretching again, she placed her bare body on display. A childhood of ballet had carved her and leaned her down and now at college in her second year, she discovered her interests to be in the humanities, to the dismay of her mother’s expectations and her father’s bank account.

Flopping a clumsy, sleepy arm to her side, she felt the pillow next to her and found it to still be warm, but vacant.

Last night had been simply amazing and even the dreaded thought of calling her parents with the news couldn’t dull her elation. She and Trevor had spent yesterday afternoon studying on the dormitory lawn, sprawled out in the fat blades of the Florida grass, and as the sun went down he had handed her a book out of his backpack.

“I know you like dark stuff,” he had said. “It’s by Victor Hugo. About a kid who is kidnapped, his face cut up, and raised as a circus freak. Don’t worry, though. He kills everyone.” Trevor presented it with his usual musing grin and Mary rewarded him with a snicker at his description.

“Well, the French love this writer so there it is,” she said as she took the hardback novel from him. Quickly she realized it had a small lump in it. Shaking it upside-down, something fell out and glittered in the grass between her feet. Instantly Mary knew what it was and hesitated for a moment before digging for it frantically, tearing up green blades, dirt, and thick roots. Her fingers halted when she found it.

“Go on…” Trevor encouraged from somewhere above her. Mary lifted a simple gold band with a small solitaire diamond; a visually sad offering of a ring but the loveliest thing she’d ever seen. She began to cry.

“I read in one of your magazines that crying can be the best sign or the worst . . .” Trevor said, seeming anxious. “And don’t worry about it being so small. I figured after we’re married for a few years and have saved up I can buy you a new one and that little diamond there can be on the side or something.”

Mary was crying full bore now. “Shut up,” she squeaked as she grabbed him around the neck and held him in a loving grip. “Yes. Dear God, yes. Always yes. Yes a long time ago.” After a few minutes of holding each other and rocking back and forth she added, “The ring is perfect. It’s just perfect. I’d rather you save your money for down the road or something.”

“My car needs brakes,” Trevor confessed. His car was notorious for announcing its presence to every stop sign and stop light with a loud screech.

“Yeah, get your brakes.” She laughed, trying to salvage her makeup while wiping tears away. Finally, she looked him dead on in the eyes. “Really?”

“Really. Marry me.”

She bit her lip. “Okay, but I so have to fuck you like, right now.”

Trevor mock sighed, and pretended to look about in search of a bush or trash bin to hide behind. After his pantomime was played out, they went back to her dorm room. Sometime between the giggling and the orgasms she managed to call her roommate and ask her to sleep elsewhere.

Pizza was ordered. His parents were called and they were delighted. The TV was on but was never watched. Drinks were mixed. Futures were discussed. Music was played and sung along to. And eventually they both slept naked, curled up in her small bed intended for only one occupant.

Mary rubbed her eyes while blinking against the morning sun that sliced through the blinds. Then she heard the shower, and assumed it was Trevor closing the bathroom door that had awakened her. She smiled, and pushed the thought of calling her parents far back into her mind. Sitting up, she looked about for her coffee that was left from the night before. “Trevor, have you seen my coffee? I had half a cup left somewhere around here.”

There was no answer.

She started to wrap herself in the sheets to look around for her coffee, but with a whimsical chirp she stood out of bed, naked. “This is how I will dress when I’m walking around the house.”

The dorm room was actually two rooms; essentially a sleeping area separated from a study area with two computer desks, a micro fridge, and a second TV. Mary stepped out of the bedroom into the study and gasped at how cold it was. She scampered back into bed with a squeal, her teeth chattering.

“Trevor, when you get back, bring me my coffee, it’s in a mug on the fridge! From last night!” she called out. A muffled ‘okay’ came from behind the bathroom door while the shower turned off.

Mary’s mind drifted toward more serious things. Would her parents pull her out of school because of Trevor? Where would they live? Who would actually pay for the wedding? Her parents certainly could, but would they? Who would the bridesmaids be? What kind of home could they afford? She felt the stress mounting, and wished Trevor would hurry out of the bathroom so that he could make everything better.

2.

Wyatt looked to the heads-up display that covered his face and saw that he was standing in Sierra Leone, West Africa, thirty miles northeast of Freetown. The year was 1994 and the sun stabbed spears of light through the leafy canopy overhead. The common thunderstorms of October had already passed, and the drier air made the leaves vibrant and the breeze less suffocating.

There was a serenity to the wilderness around him that was betrayed the moment he looked at the surrounding carnage.

Wyatt’s feet were silent, even to the birds and insects about, and he softly toed his way among the spent shell casings and strewn viscera toward the table at the center of the abandoned rebel camp. Not a soul breathed except Wyatt and his partner, Rupert.

“We’re clear,” Wyatt said after clicking his com on with his tongue. Despite Rupert being a mere twenty feet away, it was the only way for them to verbally communicate. “I’m not seeing anything breathing within sixty yards of camp. What have you got there?”

With the hints of a crisp West Indies accent, Rupert responded. “I have a trophy table. I count twelve among the dead, but there are more trophies here than that number…so I suspect either prisoners were taken post-amputation or we’re missing a stash of bodies…”

“There are tracks leading out of camp in several directions with blood and tar on the leaves. Maybe the assailants diced them and then dipped the wounds in one of the tar buckets and sent them on their way. Old Navy trick.”

“Maybe …” Rupert replied skeptically. Wyatt looked about some more. Several of the shelters were built into half-dug mounds for keeping them temperate as well as disguised from the air, so he decided to explore one of those. Careful not to slip in the blood pools on the dirt-ramp that led down, Wyatt disappeared into darkness. “Looks like a makeshift armory,” he said, as much for Rupert’s ear buds as Wyatt’s own records. “The usual. Some surface-to-air, AK’s, kids’ versions of AK’s, mines, a lot of Russian made ordnance, but hardly from Russia … most likely diamond-bought from neighbors who in turn got them from the Ukraine…” Wyatt put his face as close as he could without touching the leaning rifle in order to try to read the serial number. “Yep, Ukraine. Made post-bloc and second or third hand.”

Looking further, Wyatt found maps of the region on the wall as well as photos of various local women being gang-raped or beaten to death. A few pictures were of both at once. “These guys were RUF.” Wyatt added finally.

“Clearly, given the year,” Rupert said. “Check out the tent next to that building you’re in and tell me what you think. After that, you’ll really want to see what is on this table I’m looking at…”

“Wilco,” Wyatt said, not unhappy about leaving the armory and its garish photography. Stepping back into the shafted sunlight, he could stand his full height, and spent a moment taking in the camp, as a whole, before moving on.

There were bodies everywhere. The black skin of the Sierra Leone rebels, in some ways, hid how much blood there really was. Blackened and baked, the bodily fluids had soaked into the ground and saturated the torn uniforms and casual clothes the RUF had worn. Some of the dead had their heads literally crushed into the dirt, collapsed with eyes bulging and tongues bitten off into the dust. Others had crumpled sternums, ribs crackled into spider-leg compound fractures jutting up from their chests toward the peeking sun. One man had his pants around his ankles with his genitals torn off and shoved into his mouth. It was clear that while under attack, they were in various stages of dress and preparedness. They had been taken completely off guard.

Wyatt was a veteran of many military and government sanctioned conflicts. Some of those conflicts never even had names. He had seen enough bloodshed and violence that he stopped wondering where his tolerance for it would stop. What he witnessed here was something entirely new. Trying to form  the words to explain how astounded he was, Wyatt found that adjectives failed him. So he moved on to the tent that Rupert had indicated prior.

Instantly it was clear what the tent was. In the far back, at the center, was a small television. There were two rows of twig and straw beddings that lined the whole tent and all about were pornographic magazines, board games, empty wine bottles, and drug paraphernalia. Toeing around the bedding, tossed clothes, and bottles, Wyatt made his way to the TV and looked at the VHS cassette tapes. Rambo 2, various Jason and Freddy horror movies, and a few unlabeled tapes were present.

It was clearly a tent for training child soldiers, and at the center of it was a body crushed to the limit of human recognition, its spine bent almost ninety degrees.

Wyatt was familiar with the ‘recruitment’ process of snatching up refugee children, making them think their families rejected them, and desensitizing them through drugs, porn, violence, and cruelty. “Okay, but there are no bodies of kids anywhere.” Wyatt walked through the back of the tent nearest the jungle’s brush line and found a whole row of tiny tracks leading into the darkened depths of the distance. He was about to comment on how they clearly weren’t running given the length between each footprint when he saw a new pair of footprints. They weren’t boots. They looked more like bare feet. And the distinct prints were massive and deep compared to the small march of children’s tracks. All led to the jungle.

Wyatt crouched down at the large prints to make sure his recording devices would pick up everything possible. He switched his HUD to heat vision, cycled through electromagnetic fields, and took a near-silent sonic ‘ping’ that would map out the dimensions of the print. The on-board computer displayed across his vision that the footprint had been pressed into the ground by over three hundred pounds of pressure at a whopping shoe size of eighteen or beyond.

Wyatt gazed out into the jungle, to wherever the large-footed person had guided those children, and wondered where and if he could see someone looking back. He allowed himself a moment.

“Okay, let me see this trophy table.” Wyatt walked around the tent, always cautious of where he was stepping and how hard. To disturb anything whatsoever was a major concern. On his way, Wyatt found another print … large, perfect, and deeper in the front – as if the owner had stomped on the ball of their foot and pivoted… but there were no accompanying prints near it.

Mind still aflutter with the mental sketch of these large assailants, he wasn’t quite ready for what Rupert had to show him. He stood across the table from Rupert, looking down at the large arranged pile of collected hands on top of it. Rupert was constantly tilting his head to allow his eye pieces to take detailed measurements and readings. Some fingers were broken and twisted, but nearly every hand was cleanly severed, some prior to death and some after. Wyatt sighed.

“This is the single largest act of anger I have ever seen. It’s a bloody marvel.”

He had finally found the words he had been looking for.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Chat with Reyna Hawk and Book Excerpt

Hello world!  I hope you have been faring well as the holiday time crunch draws closer and closer.  I'm happy to introduce you to Reyna Hawk, author of Angels and Arrows, The Alter Ego of Insanity, My Imprisoned Life, and the Valentine/Petrilo Series (to be released in 2015).

The Book Landers: What inspired you to start writing? (I know, I know--it's probably a hackneyed question, but it still bears worth asking)

Reyna Hawk: While growing up I would listen to my mom and dad tell stories of different events in their lives, this stirred a creative spark in me and I began to create my own stories. In fact, I wrote much of the Valentine/Petrilo series in the 1990’s, but left it lay on a shelf. It wasn’t until 2012 that I felt it had evolved enough to be made available to the public. Now that I signed with a publisher, the series that started it all for me has gone under extensive editing and will be released under the publisher in 2015. When I think back on how my writing all began in the 1990’s, it still amazes me how far I have come. I never thought I would be signed with a publisher with almost ten books under my belt.

TBL: Who is your favorite author?

RH: I’m not sure I have one particular author that I’d call my favorite. I have certain ones that if they release a new book, I will definitely check it out and see if it’s something I like. I am quicker to look over an indie author’s work than I am the mainstream because I know the struggle of being an indie author. Unfortunately, as of lately I haven’t had much to read due to my writing.

TBL: How would you describe your writing method? Do you outline?

RH: I will write out a very brief outline of what I’d like to put into the book, but it is nothing concrete. I have been known to scrap almost an entire book because I didn’t like the ending. I begin with a thought, an idea of where I want the storyline to go and then I just begin writing. It can be rather scattered with thoughts and ideas, however once I get that creativity flowing the storyline begins to take shape making the writing process a bit easier. 

TBL: If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be?

RH: Out of my books I would love to meet Malachi. He is what many would call the perfect man. LOL and being single for nearly five years now, meeting the perfect man would be awesome. All kidding aside though, Malachi is such a caring, honest, and genuine person it would be good to know someone with such character. Although, if I needed something done (wink, wink) then I would like to meet Rico. Naturally, it doesn’t hurt that both men are gorgeous!

TBL:  How do you develop a character in your writing? What questions do you ask yourself when creating a character?

RH: I first think of the person’s upbringing, the normal questions of where did they come from? What were their parents like? Did they have any siblings? What stage of life are they at right now? Did they have a happy childhood? Or have they suffered some sort of tragedy? I want to get their personality and their behavior done to a science before I introduce them. I may not always divulge why the character is the way they are right from the beginning, but little by little I will express to the readers just what has happened in that character’s life to make them the way they are.

TBL: Is there something you *must* need when you write? (ie. coffee, music, tea, etc)

RH: Well I have to have Diet Pepsi, aside from that there really isn’t much more I would say that I need. Once I get on a roll, I can write for hours without even realizing that amount of time has passed. Sometimes music will help me to develop certain aspects of the storyline, but I do not need it.

TBL: What is one song that would describe the theme of your novel?

RH: The one song that seems to fit for Angels and Arrows is the song by Evanescence titled Wake Me up Inside; anyone who hasn’t heard that song should at least look up the lyrics. Every time I hear this song, I think of this book.

TBL: Angels and Arrows is based on true stories--how did you get the idea to base a book off true events?

RH: The events that have happened many may not believe, but they did happen and have many witnesses. No one can really explain that thin veil that hangs between this world and that of death. Every person has his or her own opinion on the afterlife, I believe after reading this book it will make some rethink their thoughts on angels, demons, spirits, and the afterlife.

TBL: Dogs or cats?

RH: Well I actually prefer cats, because they fit my personality LOL mysterious, quiet, and full of attitude. However, I do like dogs and actually have two—a border collie mix, Anna, and a husky Dakota. Both keep me entertained with their antics and goofiness.

TBL:  Any advice for aspiring writers?

RH: Never give up on your dream. It’s not an easy road of becoming an author, but the scenery can make the journey more pleasurable.

TBL: Thank you!

About the Author

Reyna Hawk is a 47 yr. old mother of one son and grandmother to one little girl. Born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio she has had the passion for storytelling and writing since her teen years. Reyna's main genre is romantic suspense although she does have works in the paranormal genre and psychological thriller. Reyna is currently published through Ravenswood Publishing, GMTA Independent Publishing LLC & Libertine Press. 

Reyna currently holds an Associate of Arts in Psychology and a Bachelor of Arts in Culture Anthropology. 

Links to follow Reyna:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ReynaHawk

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReynaHawk

Email: reynahawk@gmail.com

Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/reyna-hawk/51/172/1a0/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/reynahawk/

Website: http://www. author-reynahawk.com

About the Book:

Maria Ridge was born having gifts that allowed her to see and speak to the spirit world. As she aged these gifts became more of a curse than a blessing. At 18 she escaped the taunting from not only the town but also from her family to embark on a journey that leads her to discover others like herself, secrets to her past, and the reality of her gifts. With the help of her new friend, Allie, Maria feels she finally found her place in this world. The destined meeting of Ash awakens the two girls to the fine veil between this world and the next. Can Maria survive the haunting evil that threatens her?

This book is based on true paranormal events that are due to personal experiences or eyewitness accounts. The names of people and places have been changed strictly to enhance the story line.

Sneak Peek:

“Wake up!” the faint female voice screamed frantically causing Allie to stir in her slumber as she tried to reposition herself in the beige rocker recliner; the voice had barely penetrated into her brain.

“Wake up! He’s killing her!” This time the voice echoed through the two-story country home jolting Allie awake.

“That was weird.” Allie thought to herself as she sat up and gazed at the television as the DVD’s screen saver started the movie’s intro music again. 

“Damn, we missed the ass end of the movie.” Allie chuckled, turning the table lamp on shifting her attention toward me. For a fleeting moment, Allie wasn’t sure if she was asleep or possibly hallucinating, for what she saw made her heart stop and fear race through her veins. Allie’s eyes had directed their focus at the ugliest most inhuman being she had ever seen crouched on top of me. The beast appeared to be choking me while whispering inaudible words in my ear. The monster slowly turned its gaze to meet Allie’s and let out a deep throttle of a laugh licking its grey lips as thick greenish mucous oozed from the side of its mouth.

“You’re next.” It growled as it leapt toward Allie. However, when the beast caught its reflection in a sconce mirror it screeched out in terror and instantly evaporated into thin air leaving behind black speckles of matter that disintegrated as they floated to the ground.

“Maria!” Allie gasped at the sight of my pale pasty face and bluish lips. Allie jumped to her feet rushing to the couch where I lay motionless.

“Maria!” she yelled, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. Every light in the house had begun to flash and flicker; Allie prayed the electrical issues were due to the powerful summer storm passing through the area.

“Maria! Wake up!” Allie screamed out in panic; slapping me across the face causing my eyes to snap open wide as I gasped out in desperation for air.

“Oh God he’s here and he’s pissed!” I choked and heaved trying to catch my breath; my clothes reeked of the beast’s foul stench. I sat on the edge of the couch trying to gain my senses, leaving a clump of hair on the pillow.

“Jesus!” Allie gasped picking up the hair and inspecting it.

“Jesus had nothing to do with that.” I added fighting the inevitable tears. Thunder and lightning from the late summer storm rumbled through the town. The rain seemed to come down in bucketful’s as it beat against the roof and sides of the house. The lights flickered with every crack of lightning and crash of thunder. 

Book Review: Normal

Title: Normal

Author: Danielle Pearl

Genre: NA Fiction

Reviewer: Aly

Book Blurb:

It's the kind of situation most people would dread. Starting at a new high school, in the middle of my senior year, in a new town, in a new state. I know no one. No one knows me. That's what I'm counting on.

A year ago, Aurora "Rory" Pine was just a normal teenage girl - just as sweet and naive as the fairy tale princess she was named after.

But this isn't a year ago.

Rory is broken, and now suffering from a debilitating anxiety disorder, wrought with precarious triggers, she moves across the country to escape the source of her troubles. Her plan is anonymity, but that's easier said than achieved for the new girl having a panic episode outside of calculus. The worst part? There's a witness - and a gorgeous one at that.

Sam is a walking trigger for Rory. Incredibly handsome, built like the star athlete he obviously is, and undoubtedly popular, Sam outwardly represents everything Rory despises about high school. But as the fates keep throwing them together, a connection sparks that neither ever expected, and certainly couldn't ignore.

But Sam has issues too, and Rory's past won't just stay in the damned past. When friendship evolves into something deeper, can a girl utterly destroyed by the worst kind of betrayal and a boy battling demons of his own ever have a normal relationship? Is that even what they want? Find out in NORMAL, a gritty story of trust and abuse, heartbreak and salvation, and if they're lucky - love. This is not a flowery romance - not for the faint of heart

Review: 

I do admit that I loved the narration used during Normal. It was almost as if the main character was talking with you as you read the book. It drew readers farther into the book, and gave it an interesting twist, as you would hear these comments that normally wouldn’t be included in the narration at that point but it is and it makes for some even better situations most of the times. Mostly because you’re hearing her thoughts and the comments she’s making and many times, Rory’s voice has a bit of a witty tone to it, and sarcasm. It just drew me farther into the book and into Rory’s head as well as becoming attached to Rory even more.

Then there was Rory. She was just a character that you could get behind, feel proud of and she felt as real as my own best friend. You felt for her even if you hadn’t experienced what she had gone through and it was just amazing to me that she thinks she’s not strong or that she’s damaged in someway. She’s stronger than a lot of people I know, including myself. I truly enjoyed this book because of Rory.

I did enjoy many of the other characters, including Sam, but Rory was my favorite by far.

I’m going to say now that this book does have some triggers, such as rape, and abuse. So if you don’t feel that that’s something you can read about than it might be best not to start this book.

The fact that we get small bits of Rory’s past while being involved in her present, it makes things a bit easier to take. I’m not saying that it’s easy to read at all. In fact, sometimes it was difficult to read all about these things. But the small doses of her past and seeing how well she’s doing even if she feels she’s not doing well at all makes things a bit easier to take.

And that ending. It had me in tears, wanting the world to leave me alone and never come back. I will tell you that if you can handle rape and abuse in your books that this is a book that you will enjoy.

Rating:

Book Review: This is What Happy Looks Like

Title: This is What Happy Looks Like

Author: Jennifer E Smith

Genre: YA Fiction

Book Blurb:

When teenage movie star Graham Larkin accidentally sends small town girl Ellie O'Neill an email about his pet pig, the two seventeen-year-olds strike up a witty and unforgettable correspondence, discussing everything under the sun, except for their names or backgrounds. 

Then Graham finds out that Ellie's Maine hometown is the perfect location for his latest film, and he decides to take their relationship from online to in-person. But can a star as famous as Graham really start a relationship with an ordinary girl like Ellie? And why does Ellie want to avoid the media's spotlight at all costs?

Review:

Wow....I haven't read contemporary fiction in a loooonnngg time.  I have been depraved of stories that don't have bombs/explosions/murders happening every two chapters, lol.  Anyways, This Is What Happy Looks Like was exactly what I needed to refresh and recharge myself.  Before I get started, let me get this out: there are quite a bit of cliches in this book.  Does that prevent me from loving it? No.  Hear me out.

The characters are very dynamic--btw, this novel is told from 2 POVs--Graham and Ellie.  They couldn't have been more different.  Ellie is the daughter of a single mother, trying to save up enough money for a poetry camp.  Graham is a movie star who drops hundred dollar bills like pennies.  I know I know what you're thinking: Seriously, Tina?  Could this get any more cliche?

Ahh...but here's the twist:  Ellie doesn't know who Graham is.  Hell, she doesn't even know his first name.  Same goes with Graham--he doesn't Ellie's name.  You see, this all started when Graham accidentally sends Ellie an email asking her to walk Wilbur.  Wilbur's a pig.  And Graham enjoys quoting Charlotte's Web.  So yeah, that's not so cliche now, no?

I'm not going to blab on about the plot except that the novel covers huge chunks of time--like one chapter skipped over 3 weeks.  This is not the say the plot the particularly fast paced (its medium paced), but the author was smart enough to know that readers don't enjoy "fluff" chapters, hence why she fast forwarded several weeks at a time, if needed, since nothing important happens.  Oh--and there's also a plot twist regarding Ellie's dad that ends in a bitter sweet way.  Same goes with the ending--it's bitter sweet.

I thoroughly enjoyed Smith's writing style.  It flowed quite well and is dynamic.  There aren't many long, descriptive sentences, which prevented the novel from slowing down.  

Over all, This Is What Happy Looks Like is such a sweet book; I would recommend this book if you're looking for a pick-me-up read.  

I'm going to leave off with this one quote I loved:

"It was a little bit like taffy, this friendship of theirs; you could stretch it and pull it and bend it all out of shape, but it was no easy thing to break it entirely."

Rating:

Book Blitz+Giveaway+Free Book+Sampler: Ice Massacre

About the Book

Ice Massacre by Tiana Warner 

Publication date: September 18th 2014

Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Synopsis:

A mermaid’s supernatural beauty serves one purpose: to lure a sailor to his death.

The Massacre is supposed to bring peace to Eriana Kwai. Every year, the island sends its warriors to battle these hostile sea demons. Every year, the warriors fail to return. Desperate for survival, the island must decide on a new strategy. Now, the fate of Eriana Kwai lies in the hands of twenty battle-trained girls and their resistance to a mermaid’s allure.

Eighteen-year-old Meela has already lost her brother to the Massacre, and she has lived with a secret that’s haunted her since childhood. For any hope of survival, she must overcome the demons of her past and become a ruthless mermaid killer.

For the first time, Eriana Kwai’s Massacre warriors are female, and Meela must fight for her people’s freedom on the Pacific Ocean’s deadliest battleground.

Links:

Goodreads | Amazon

Get the book FREE during the blitz! (Sept. 29-Oct. 3)

About the Author

Tiana Warner was born and raised in British Columbia, Canada. She enjoys riding her horse, Bailey, and collecting tea cups.

Author links:

Author Website

Twitter

Goodreads Profile

Ice Massacre Sampler

Somewhere on the Pacific Ocean

     The young man aimed his crossbow at the water, ready to fire a bolt of solid iron at the first glimpse of flesh beneath the surface.

     “Sir,” he said, “shouldn’t we have seen one by now?”

     The captain turned his back to the salty wind, jaw tight. “They know we’re here.”

     “So what are they doing?”

     He followed the captain’s gaze. Blackness merged with the empty grey horizon in every direction. A long silence passed, filled only by gentle swells lapping against the ship.

     The captain drew his own crossbow.

     “Forming a plan.”

     All twenty men aboard the ship readied their weapons, reacting in a chain until the last man at the stern took steady aim at the waves.

     “Make ready your iron, men,” shouted the captain. “We have ripples approaching off the port side.”

     A handful of places in the water puckered, as if something lingered just below the surface. The sea was too black to tell.

     Then it happened. Fifty, maybe sixty sea demons burst from the water and slammed against the ship. The men wasted no time. They reacted with trained speed and agility as the demons thrust stones and jagged shells into the wood, both to break holes in the ship and to scale the sides. The men picked them off with bolts of iron and watched them fall one by one back into the sea.

     But they were outnumbered. Soon the demons were upon the ship, pulling themselves across the deck with bony arms.

     The young man had already shot a dozen and the water reddened with each passing second.

     Slow scraping sounds threatened him from behind. He whirled around, crossbow ready. Burning eyes met his, and sharp teeth, bared to rip into his flesh.        He gripped the trigger, felt the bow tighten—

     And the demon was gone. The young man stared into the wide gaze of a girl his own age. With a startled cry, he jerked his aim so the bolt barely missed her.

     She held a black shell in her hand, sharp at the edges and ready to use as a club. But she didn’t raise it. She just looked at him. He lowered his crossbow.

     Her blonde hair fell heavily over her shoulders, dripping beads of water down her naked chest and stomach, pooling where her torso joined her tail.

     He blinked, but made no other motion—where her torso joined her tail. Scales faded into flesh like some sort of beautiful, green and tan sunset.

     She pulled herself closer.

     “Stay back,” said the young man, unsure what prompted him to hesitate.

     He looked into her eyes—emeralds surrounded by pearl white—where moments ago they had burned red. Her sharp teeth had retracted behind rosy lips. The seaweed-coloured flesh of her upper body was now olive and raised with goose bumps from the icy wind.

     “Hanu aii,” she whispered. Do not fear. She spoke his language.

     He loosened his grip on the crossbow, studying her. She lifted a frail arm and pushed the hair from her eyes, then motioned him forwards.

     His pulse quickened as he stared at the beautiful girl. “Hanu aii,” she said again, her voice resonating sweetly, as if she sang without singing.

     Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of her, level with her luminous eyes. The sounds around him faded but for the soft purr in the base of her throat.

     She reached up and held an icy hand to his cheek, not for a moment breaking eye contact. The hand slid behind his head and pulled his face towards hers, slowly but firmly. He inhaled her sweet breath. “No!”

     He flinched. He turned to see the captain racing towards them, aiming his crossbow at the maiden.

     The young man grasped the scene around him. The ship was empty. A few stray weapons and barrels bobbed serenely in the water. Blood soaked the deck in places, and even the main mast had a splatter across the bottom.

     The captain fired wide. Before he could reload and aim again, the sea demon put a hand on the young man’s chin and pulled his gaze back to hers.

     Her eyes blazed red. Her skin rippled into the rotten colour of seaweed. Her ears grew pointed and long like sprouting coral. She opened her mouth to reveal a row of deadly teeth.

     The young man screamed.

     The demon pulled him against her with more strength than three men combined, and they dove headfirst off the side of the ship. They disappeared into the blood-red water.

Giveaway Time!!!

***Open Internationally***

a Rafflecopter giveaway