#Review - Heart of Iron by Ashley Poston #YALIT #SyFy

Series: Heart of Iron # 1
Format: Hardcover, 480 pages
Release Date: February 27, 2018
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Source: Publisher
Genre: Young Adult / Science Fiction

A smart and funny sci-fi adventure inspired by the story of Anastasia—full of romance, royalty, and action—perfect for fans of Six of Crows. 

Seventeen-year-old Ana is a scoundrel by nature and a criminal by nurture. Found as a child in the wreckage of a spaceship with only a sentient android called D09 surviving with her, Ana has spent all the life she remembers with the fearsome space pirate captain and grizzled crew she now calls family. But D09—one of the last remaining illegal Metals—has been glitching, and without a specialized piece of tech, he’ll be gone for good.

When Ana finds information about the tech that will save D09, she’s beat out at the last moment by a spoiled noble boy, Robb Valerio, who wants the tech’s coordinates and doesn’t care what it will cost him. The only way for Ana to get the coordinates is to find the boy—by infiltrating a dangerous party of their world’s elite. But when everything goes wrong, Robb ends up escaping with her crew and saving their lives. Now the whole galaxy is after them—and not all of them will make it out alive.

What they find at the lost corners of the universe will change all their lives—and unearth plenty of secrets from the past. And when a dark conspiracy is revealed, Ana, D09, Robb, and their friends will have to do whatever it takes to protect themselves, and save their kingdom, before it’s too late.

Inspired by the story of Anastasia, Heart of Iron is a rip-roaring adventure story full of thrilling action, dangerous politics, and deadly choices.

 

“I’ll always come back for you. I promise you on iron and stars.”

Ashley Poston's Heart of Iron is the first installment in the authors Heart of Iron series. Pitched as Anastasia meets the cult TV hit Firefly, it is perfect for fans of The 100, Illuminae, and the Lunar Chronicles series. Inspired by the story of Anastasia, Heart of Iron is an sci-fi/fantasy adventure full of thrilling action, dangerous politics, and deadly choices. Ana, the protagonist of this book, suffers from panic attacks over the course of the story. She also carries burn scars on her face from escaping a childhood fire. 

The author grapples with these substantive issues throughout her book and readers will relate to Ana’s anxiety and her experiences, even while they take place in another world. Readers will be shocked at the intrigue and betrayal throughout the novel, from romantic complications to political treachery, surprise royalty to hidden villains. Fans of Snow Like Ashes will adore this book that pulls no punches.

This book revolves around 4 main characters. Ana is a thief, and pirate who would do anything for Di, her AI best friend, and love interest. Yeah, that's right, love interest! Ana was  found in an escape pod by Captain Siege and crew with D09 protecting her as she had been injured and lost all of her memories and was drifting through space. She is a bit impulsive, and out of control at times during this book. Ana has hopes of finding coordinates to a lost fleet ship called the Tsarina that may hold a fix to Di's memory core before he is lost forever.

Di is an AI who has been glitching to the point where he can no longer trust himself. Di becomes an even more interesting character when the author shocks readers with some rather head puzzling twists and surprises. Jax is a damn fine pilot who comes from a race of people who used to be able to read the future in the stars. He holds some secrets that make him all the more interesting. Lastly, we have Robb, the second born son of one of the wealthiest families in the Iron Kingdom whose brother is going to be named Emperor. Rob is still searching for his father who he was told perished back in the rebellion 7 years ago led by Metals who killed the royal family.

Dossier is an outlaw ship commanded by the fierce and mysterious captain, Siege, along with a loving crew filled with diverse characters. Ana, Di, Robb, and Jax face a serious of challenges the are all being controlled by a villain who readers will uncover almost right away. There are different planets and species but they’re mentioned and there, but are explored superficially. Hopefully, we can get even more understanding of the universe this story is set in when the sequel is released. This is a book that has several romances. From Ana/Di, to the Captain of the ship and her wife, to a pair of male characters who pretty much fall in love at first sight. If you are indeed a fan of the story of Anastasia then this book will be a welcomed addition to your library.

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#Review - The Queen of Blood by Sarah Beth Durst #Fantasy

Series: Queens of Renthia# 1
Format: Hardcover, 368 pages
Release Date: September 20, 2016
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Epic

An idealistic young student and a banished warrior become allies in a battle to save their realm in this first book of a mesmerizing epic fantasy series, filled with political intrigue, violent magic, malevolent spirits, and thrilling adventure 

Everything has a spirit: the willow tree with leaves that kiss the pond, the stream that feeds the river, the wind that exhales fresh snow . . .

But the spirits that reside within this land want to rid it of all humans. One woman stands between these malevolent spirits and the end of humankind: the queen. She alone has the magical power to prevent the spirits from destroying every man, woman, and child. But queens are still just human, and no matter how strong or good, the threat of danger always looms.

With the position so precarious, young women are chosen to train as heirs. Daleina, a seemingly quiet academy student, is under no illusions as to her claim to the throne, but simply wants to right the wrongs that have befallen the land. Ven, a disgraced champion, has spent his exile secretly fighting against the growing number of spirit attacks. Joining forces, these daring partners embark on a treacherous quest to find the source of the spirits restlessness—a journey that will test their courage and trust, and force them to stand against both enemies and friends to save their land . . . before it’s bathed in blood.

 

Sarah Beth Durst's The Queen of Blood is the first installment in the authors Queens of Renthia series. In the land of Renthia, there are six spirits that make up the land. Fire, ice, water, air, earth and trees. They vary in size and shape. They can look humanoid, or monstrous, or like pixies. These spirits have only one driving desire: To kill humans. They hate humans with a passion. The only thing keeping the spirits in check are the Queens of the different realms. 

“Don't trust the fire, for it will burn you.
Don't trust the ice, for it will freeze you.
Don't trust the water, for it will drown you.
Don't trust the air, for it will choke you.
Don't trust the earth, for it will bury you.
Don't trust the trees, for they will rip you,
rend you, tear you, kill you dead.”  

The Queen holds the ultimate power to control the spirits and keep them from killing the humans that live there. There are other humans who have power to control the spirits, these people also vary in power level but unfortunately most humans can’t control the spirits at all. In this world, spirits are never supposed to hurt people. Queen Fara is supposed to protect her people. Spirits are supposed to listen to her. But, when spirits attack and destroy a tree village called Greytree leaving only a few survivors, something is definitely amiss.   

The novel follows Daleina from age 10 as a survivor of that village that was shredded only because she managed to control the spirits, to age 19 as she attempts to learn to control all 6 spirits that control the land around her. Daleina is not all-powerful. She struggles with her control, and she knows that there are plenty of other young women who can easily step in and become the next heir to the Queen. Daleina never once falls into the trap of hating any of the others girls who she trains with. Even Merecot who tries hard to be villainous. In the end, they are all good friends even though they are much stronger than Daleina is. What she does have is a huge heart that often doubts her own self and her abilities which keeps her from becoming someone like Merecot who readers will learn more about in the next installment. 

The second notable character is a Champion named Ven who will learn some valuable lessons that will see him exiled, disgraced, but will never turn his back on the people of Renthia or the Queen who he loves dearly despite all her flaws. A Champion trains candidates to becoming heirs to the Queen. Even though he is no longer around the Queen, Ven never fails in helping villages under attack by spirits. He takes on a healer named Hamen who becomes an interesting romantic choice for Daleina. After researching Daleina, and realizing that she has the right mindset for what is to come, he chooses her to teach all things practical so she knows how to deal with the spirits.

This is a wild world. It is a world filled with tree villages, and pulley systems, and creatures from out of nightmares. It is a story about doing what is not expected, but necessary in order to survive. Daleina does some things in this book that are not pretty, especially in the final phase of this book. There are parts of this book from Fara's POV as well and readers will have to decide what her end game is. Was it doing what's best for her people, or to stay in power long after she loses respect for what she is doing in secret.  

I need to get my hands on the sequel stat!

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#Review/Excerpt - You Owe Me a Murder by Eileen Cook #YALIT #Thrillers #Suspense

Series: Standalone

Format: Hardcover, 368 pages
Release Date: March 5, 2019
Publisher: HMH Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Young Adult / Thrillers & Suspense

Seventeen-year-old Kim gets more than she bargained for when she is set up for murder. Perfect for fans of One of Us is Lying, E. Lockhart, and Gillian Flynn.
 
17-year-old Kim never expected to plot a murder. But that was before her boyfriend dumped her for another girl. Now, Kim’s stuck on a class trip to London with him and his new soulmate and she can’t help wishing he was a little bit dead, even if she’d never really do that.

But when Kim meets Nicki, a stranger on the plane who’s more than willing to listen to Kim’s woes, things start to look up. Nicki's got a great sense of humor, and when she jokes about swapping murders, Kim plays along—that is, until Kim’s ex-boyfriend mysteriously dies.

Blackmailed by Nicki to fulfill her end of the deal, Kim will have to commit a murder or take the fall for one.
 

 

What would you do if your boyfriend dumped you for another girl and you had to go on a school trip to England with both of them? Apparently, you go anyway. On the plane to England, Kim meets Nicki and they bond over a bottle of vodka. While drunk, Kim reveals how much she hates Connor and Nicki says she feels the same way about her mom. Wouldn't it be hilarious, she says, if the two of them did each other a favor of killing off the person they each hate?

In what Kim believes is a game, Nicki suggests that Kim murder Nicki's supposedly alcoholic mother, while Nicki takes care of Conner, the ex. Kim wakes up and Nicki is gone. She assumes it was all harmless, drunken letting off of steam moment. After all, why would anyone think two strangers would come up with a Murder game to get rid of people they claim hurt them?  But, when her ex dies in front of a train, Kim's not so sure Nicki thinks it's a joke.  

To make matters worse, Kim doesn't have any way to contact Nicki. She doesn't even know her last name, or where she lives or where she could be. Is Nicki even her real name? To confuse matters even more, Kim never mentioned to anyone on the tour that she knew Connor, so when he dies, it appears as though she wanted him dead because of the break-up. Now, you have to stretch the imagination a bit. Kim, who is from Canada, somehow manages to easily find herself around London even though she's supposedly never visited. Plot hole.

Does she have what it takes to commit murder? Kim is obviously written as an unreliable narrator who we have to take with a grain of salt, but at times she just seems hysterical, which should have been an appropriate response to her circumstances after Connor dies. Nothing she does supports the idea that she might kill someone, or be able to turn the on Nicki. 

Alex is a boy she teams up with throughout the story and is mostly always there for her. He was really clever and funny and ultimately cared for Kim through everything, no matter what. Nicki was also fascinating - and terrifying. She was utterly ruthless and without remorse, and you, as the reader, were never quite sure how far she would go, or if she even had any limits at all.

Eileen Cook's You Owe Me a Murder is a roller coaster of heart-racing twists and unexpected turns that will sometimes keep you on the edge of seat wondering what will happen next. I've seen comparison's between this story and Strangers on a Train but for young adults.

ONE
AUGUST 15
16 DAYS REMAINING
I plotted murder in the Vancouver airport while waiting at gate D78 for my flight to London.
Based on the expressions of the people around me, I wasn’t the only one thinking of how to do someone in. Our flight was delayed and everyone was irritated and restless. The couple at the end of the row were fighting about which one of them had forgotten to lock the bedroom window before they left. Then there were at least a half-dozen people wanting to take out the toddler wearing the SpongeBob T-shirt, who vacillated between shrieking at a decibel normally used to torture dogs and running around slamming into everyone with his grimy hands.
The old guy across from me snarled, baring his yellowed teeth, every time the kid whirled in his direction. You’d think that would freak the toddler out, but it didn’t seem to make any impact. Maybe the little boy got his ability to ignore unpleasant things from his mom. She stared down at an issue of People magazine, her lips moving as she read, completely ignoring the fact that people in the gate area wanted to club her kid with their roller bags. The only way you knew it was her child was that when he would slam into her, she’d hold out a limp plastic baggie filled with rainbow-colored gummy worms and then drop one into his clutching hand. She was like an apathetic mama bird.
I tilted my head to the side to crack the tension in my neck. I wished I could block things out that well. Instead I found myself continually looking over at Connor. My back teeth clenched, tight enough to crack. Miriam was perched on his lap. I told myself to stop staring, but my attention kept being pulled back. He slid his hand under her shirt and rubbed her back in tight circles. I knew that move. He’d done that to me.
Before he’d dumped me.
Miriam ruffled his hair. He couldn’t stand it when I’d done that. He’d push my hand away or duck out of my reach. Connor had gone deaf after a bout of chicken pox as a kid and had cochlear implants so he could hear. He wore his hair a bit shaggy because he didn’t like to draw attention to the processor behind his ears. I’d found it fascinating. Not just because it’s a pretty cool piece of tech, but also because I wanted to know how he felt going from a silent world to being able to hear. But he didn’t like to talk about it, or for me to touch his hair.
Apparently, he didn’t have the same hang-up with Miriam. I reminded myself that I didn’t care. Connor meant nothing to me now. I swallowed hard.
Toddler SpongeBob slammed into me. His sticky fingers, streaked red and blue from the candy, clutched my jeans. He stared up at me with his watery eyes and then, without looking away, slowly lowered his drooling, slobbery mouth to my knee and bit me.
“Hey!” I shoved him hard without thinking. He teetered for a moment and then fell onto his giant padded diaper butt, letting out a cry. I glanced around guiltily, shame landing on my chest with a thud. His mother didn’t even look over. The old man gave me a thumbs-up gesture. Great—?that’s me, Kim, the kind of person who beats up preschoolers when she’s not stalking her ex-boyfriend. I crouched down to help the kid up, but he pushed me away and returned to running wildly up and down the aisle.
I peered down at my phone, wishing I could call my best friend, Emily. She always knew how to cheer me up. She was spending the entire summer working at a camp on the far side of Vancouver Island. She didn’t have any cell service or WiFi, so there was going to be no quick “everything will be fine” text or call. Granted, if I’d been able to reach her earlier in the summer, I might not even have been in this situation at all. Communicating old school—?by letters—?might be vintage and nostalgic, but it does you no good when you have an emotional disaster that needs immediate BFF interaction.
We’d been friends since elementary school and this was the longest I’d ever gone without talking to her. So far, my summer was proof positive that I shouldn’t be allowed to handle things on my own. I fished the last card she’d sent me out of my bag. Inside she’d scribbled, “I know you can do this! Your trip’s going to be amazing!!” Emily never met an exclamation point that she didn’t like. Despite the positive punctuation, I was pretty sure she was wrong on both counts. I felt far from capable, and although the flight hadn’t even left, I already hated everything about this trip.
I took a deep breath, counting in for three and then letting it whoosh out. I can do this. I wasn’t going to let Emily and my parents down.
A few rows over, Miriam laughed, tossing her head back as if Connor had just told the best joke of all time. She playfully punched him in the chest with her tiny little hand. Everything about her was miniaturized. She told everyone she was five feet tall, but she was four eleven at best. She looked ridiculous when she stood next to Connor. He could have put her into his backpack and carried her around like a Chihuahua.
I had to admit Miriam was pretty, other than being freakishly petite. She had long dark hair that could have starred in a shampoo commercial. Her only flaw was that she wore too much eyeliner. She was addicted to the cat’s-eye look, accentuating the slant of her eyes. She had a flair for drama; she always made huge gestures, sweeping her arms around, flicking her hair over a shoulder, or talking loudly as if she was constantly trying to make sure everyone could hear her. She was in the theater crowd, so maybe she couldn’t help herself.
I never would have guessed Connor would date someone like her: showy. I thought he’d enjoyed that we didn’t always have to be talking, but if we did, it was about important stuff: Philosophy. Science. Politics. We met once at the coffee shop in the morning before work and split up the Globe and Mail, silently passing the newspaper sections back and forth. He was the only other person I knew besides me who liked to read an actual paper. I’d caught our reflection in the window and thought we looked like adults. Like people who lived in New York or Toronto, with important jobs, a fancy high-rise apartment with lots of glass and chrome, and a membership to the local art museum.
Miriam had no volume control, but she wasn’t stupid. I didn’t know her well—?she hung with the drama crowd—?but I wouldn’t have thought Connor was her type. I would have seen her liking a guy with an earring and some kind of social justice agenda. She wasn’t in the hard sciences but still took a bunch of AP courses. She’d written some paper on Shakespeare that won a national award for English geeks. No wonder I wanted to kill her.
I sighed. I didn’t want to kill her, I wanted to be her. Miriam hadn’t stolen Connor. Someone can’t steal what you don’t have. He didn’t dump me because he’d fallen for her. What had happened between us was complicated. More complicated than I even wanted to admit. He had his own reasons for stomping on my heart. If I was going to take anyone out, it should be him. But no matter whom I blamed, it didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few weeks watching the two of them make out in front of me. I shook my head to clear it. As everyone kept reminding me, it would be for only sixteen days.
I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see them, but I could still hear Miriam. Her drama teacher should be proud of how well Miriam’s voice carried. She was four feet eleven of all lungs. Her voice filled the entire gate area and spread down the hall like toxic lava. I could tell already that the sound would be like fingernails on a chalkboard by the end of the trip.
The worst part was that I’d pleaded to go. I told my parents if they let me attend, they’d never have to get me another gift. Once Connor had announced he was going—?before we’d broken up—?I’d been instantly consumed with images of the two of us walking hand in hand through narrow cobblestone streets. The program was advertised as if it were a great educational opportunity, but the truth was, there weren’t any real demands. We’d be “exposed” to culture, as though it were a cold we could catch. I didn’t really care about the chance to travel, or what I might learn from the sights of London; what mattered was going with him. I didn’t want him to be away for almost three weeks, doing all these things without me. I loved the idea of starting school in September with the two of us chatting constantly about “remember the time we were in London?” until everyone around us was annoyed.
In retrospect, I know he wanted to come because he didn’t think I was going. He signed up without talking it over, telling me only after it was a done deal. I pleaded with my parents for days, never admitting that I wanted to go because of Connor and instead laying it on thick how it was a great way to expand my horizons, how amazing it would look on my university apps, and how I’d suddenly developed a fascination with British history, until they gave in.
Then, after things with Connor blew up in my face, I’d begged my parents to let me bail, but they wouldn’t budge. They insisted it wasn’t the deposit, it was the point. My dad called it a chance for me to “build character.” As far as he was concerned, Connor had never been worth my time. He made a snide comment about Connor’s overbite, which, coming from a dentist, was some serious trash talk.
My mom had made a dismissive sniff and told me “he’s not worth bothering over.” She acted as though she didn’t like him, but when I’d first told her about Connor, she’d been as excited as me. He was exactly the kind of boy she would have liked at my age, and the exact kind of boy she assumed would never know her awkward daughter even existed. She looked at me differently, as if her ugly duckling had finally hit possible swan status. We went shopping together and got matching hot pink mani-pedis. We’d never gotten along as well as we had for those few weeks.
Then when things went bad with him, my mom acted as if she were the one who’d been humiliated. She might have said she wanted me to go on the trip because it was a chance to travel, but she also wanted me to be the kind of person who held her head high to handle the situation the way she would have done. And I wanted to be that person too—?the kind who would have a fantastic time regardless of a breakup and, by the end of the trip, see Connor desperately sorry he’d broken up with me. All while making a pack of new friends.
However, if I was going to go full fantasy, I might as well add in that the queen would invite me to the palace, and Will and Kate would ask me to baby-sit, and Harry and Meghan would offer to hook me up with some minor count or a duke. The truth was, the next few weeks were going to suck.
And I was going to be stuck strapped in directly behind the lovebirds for the entire flight, watching them crawl all over each other in the tiny coach seats. I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could block out the mental image playing on the big screen of my mind. I’d told myself a thousand times since we’d all checked in and I’d heard our seating assignments that I could handle this, but with every second that went by, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I wouldn’t make it. I’d snap somewhere thirty-three thousand feet up and beat the two of them over the head with the in-flight magazine.
Or start crying again. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. You would think there was only so much crying a person could do before she got completely dehydrated. I’d told myself I couldn’t stand him anymore, so why did my heart still seize and my throat grow tight every time he was around?
I stood up so suddenly that my bag fell to the floor. I snatched it up and strode over to the airline counter. The gate agent didn’t look up. She was too preoccupied typing into her computer. Her fingernails, which had a thick layer of bright red gel polish, made a strange clacking sound on the keys. I cleared my throat, but she still didn’t stop.
“Excuse me,” I managed to get out before she held up a finger to silence me.
She finally finished whatever she was doing and glanced up. “If you’re asking about the delay, I don’t have any more information. As soon as we get clearance, we’ll start boarding.” There was makeup creased on her forehead and I suspected she was on her last nerve. She was a walking reminder to never go into a customer service occupation.
I leaned forward even though logically I knew Connor couldn’t hear me from where he was sitting. “I wondered if I could change my seat?”
She scrunched up her face. “I don’t think—?”
“See the guy back there?” I yanked my head in Connor’s direction. “That’s my ex-boyfriend. We’re going to England on a travel program. I’m supposed to sit right behind him.” I paused. “For nine hours.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she looked over my shoulder.
I sensed I was getting somewhere. “He was my first boyfriend.” My voice cracked and I had to swallow over and over to keep control. “He dumped me just a couple weeks ago.”
Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—?”
“That’s his new girlfriend. She used to be my best friend.”
The gate agent sucked in a breath and looked over at Connor as though he were something she’d scraped off her shoe.
I felt bad as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Miriam and I had never even hung out before this trip, let alone been friends, but I needed the agent to help me. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I don’t lie to hurt people, or to pull something over on them, but I guess sometimes I . . . make up stories to make myself more interesting. As long as I can remember, I’ve done it. On the playground in elementary school, I told the other kids that fairies lived in my backyard. In junior high I let everyone think I’d been adopted. I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to be normal and interesting, but I wasn’t.
I hadn’t lied with Connor. With him I’d been one hundred percent honest about my feelings, and look how that had turned out.
The agent clacked away on the computer. “Your name?”
“Kim, Kim Maher.” I spelled my last name.
“I need your old boarding pass.” I slid the limp piece of paper across the counter. She tore it in half as the machine spat out a new one. She passed it over to me with a wink. “He doesn’t deserve you. Have a good trip.”
The tight band around my chest loosened. “Thanks.”
I wove through the crowd clustered around the gate and plopped back down in my seat. I pushed the New York Times I’d already read out of the way and pulled out the magazine I’d brought. I hid between the pages, blinking back tears. The gate agent was right. Connor didn’t deserve me. It was the same thing Emily told me. But even if I knew it was true, it didn’t hurt any less. All I had to do was figure out how to get my heart to catch up to the fact that my head didn’t like him anymore.
A girl slid a few seats over to be next to me. “Did she say anything about the delay?” Her English accent made me feel as if I’d dropped onto the set of a BBC historical drama.
I shook my head and quickly wiped my eyes so she wouldn’t notice the tears. “No news.”
The girl sighed. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She tugged the thin cream cashmere sweater sleeves over her hands. She glanced down at the stack of paper on the chair next to me. “Your Times?”
I nodded.
“Did you read the article about the changes to the space program? I saw it earlier this morning.”
I jumped slightly in surprise. She seemed like someone who would spot a copy of InStyle at a hundred meters but wouldn’t know a shuttle from a rocket if she were whacked across the face with one of them. “Uh-huh.” I picked up the paper, looking for the Science section.
“I think that’s what I like about a real paper,” she said. “It’s like a knowledge Easter egg hunt. You never know what you’re going to find.”
I nodded like a bobble-head doll. That was exactly why I loved reading a paper too. “Yeah. Are you into space stuff?”
She shrugged. “Just find it interesting.”
I held out my hand. “I’m Kim.”
“Nicki.” She smiled as we shook. “How come you aren’t hanging with the rest of your group?” She motioned to a couple rows over. There were eight of us on the trip and we were all on this flight. A few had busted out cards to play a game on the blue carpeted floor, and the others were clustered around Jamal’s laptop checking out his music.
“How did you know—?” I got out before she flicked the blue and white STUDENT SCHOLARS FOR CHANGE tag attached to my carry-on. I’d forgotten I was branded. “Ah. I’m not really friends with any of them. There are just three of us from my high school. It’s complicated,” I said.
Nicki nodded. “Story of my life. I was here visiting my dad, and the reason he lives here, instead of in London with me and my mum, is all sorts of complicated too.”
Nicki tucked her hair behind her ears. Her bob wasn’t quite long enough, so as soon as she did, the hair fell free and swung forward again. “Sorry, that came out a bit pissy. I just find other people . . . ugh. I don’t know. Disappointing.” She shoved her hair back again.
“Story of my life,” I said, echoing her words. She laughed and it reminded me of scales on a piano.
Nicki tapped the robotics magazine on my lap. “You plan on going into robotics at uni?”
I shook my head. “Not sure. I’m leaning toward engineering, maybe computers.”
She waited until an announcement about a flight to Phoenix stopped blaring on the PA. “I’m thinking psychology. I’m interested in research. This is my gap year.” She watched the unsupervised toddler fish a booger out of his nose and rub it into his hair.
“What kind of research?”
“Human behavior. I don’t have any interest in being a counselor. People blathering about their problems all day would drive me barmy. But I’m intrigued with why people do what they do, why they don’t do some things, what they could accomplish, that kind of thing.”
I traced the pattern in the carpet with my shoe. Understanding other people was one of the great mysteries in my life. “If you ever figure people out, you’ll have to let me know what you discover. Math I can make sense of, but people are more confusing than quantum physics. Give me a robot any day.”
She laughed. “Don’t give up on humanity just yet. Maybe you haven’t met anyone worth figuring out.”
The overhead speaker chirped to life. “Attention: Passengers on Air Canada flight 854 to London. Due to aircraft maintenance issues, this flight will be further delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.” The crowd groaned. The screen over our gate flickered and a new departure time, three hours from now, blinked on.
Connor stood and stretched. “Who wants to find a place to watch the Whitecaps game?”
Our group began to gather up their stuff. He was like the pied piper of nerdy people. Everyone was willing to follow him. Miriam walked over toward me.
“Do you want to come?” she offered. Her legs were so small that her size extra small leggings were baggy around her thighs. She must buy her clothing in a kids’ department.
“No thanks,” I managed to say, willing her to walk away. Or she could disappear completely—?I was open to that, too.
“You can’t want to hang around here for the next three hours.” Miriam nudged my tote with her foot. “C’mon, we’ll all get some fries or something. It’ll be fun.”
Fun wasn’t even in the top ten words that I would think of to describe the situation. “I’m fine,” I insisted. It was bad enough that Connor wanted nothing to do with me. It was worse that he started dating someone else right away. It was a nightmare that I was stuck on this trip with them. But her being nice to me was a layer of shit icing on this crap cupcake. I didn’t even know how much Connor had told her about what had happened between the two of us. I wasn’t sure what I preferred: that she knew and felt pity for me, or that he hadn’t told her anything because he didn’t think I was worth mentioning. I slouched lower in the seat.
“Leave it—?she doesn’t want to come. Trust me, no one will miss her with that attitude.” Connor strode over and took Miriam’s hand without even glancing at me.
I flushed. He was right. I was a walking black cloud of doom. I hadn’t bothered to get to know anyone else coming on the trip and now I was going to be miserable and alone.
“Gawd, he’s a tosser,” Nicki said, loud enough to carry.
I wasn’t entirely certain what it meant, but it sounded both hysterical and insulting. I burst out laughing.
Connor and Miriam walked off down the hall, the rest of the group following behind them. He glanced over his shoulder at us, and when he saw we were still staring, he whirled back around.
My chest filled with air. I felt like one of those large balloons at a parade—?ready to float away. “I don’t know what you said, but you’re my new favorite person on this planet,” I said. I meant it, too. My BFF couldn’t be reached except by letter. Emily might as well have been in space for all the help she could give me.
“That guy is a loser.” Nicki pulled me from my seat. “I can tell, because as we’ve already established, I study people. You can pay me back for correctly identifying him as a wanker by keeping me entertained for the next few hours.”
“How would you like me to do that?”
Nicki’s smile spread across her face. “We’re smart women, we’ll think of something.”

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#Review - Call Me Evie by J.P. Pomare #Thrillers / #Psychological

Series: Standalone
Format: Hardcover, 368 pages
Release Date: March 5, 2019
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Source: Publisher
Genre: Thrillers / Psychological

A seventeen-year-old struggles to remember the tragic night that changed her life forever in this twist-filled debut novel of psychological suspense for fans of Sharp Objects and The Last Time I Lied.

Evie and her uncle Jim have just moved to an isolated cabin in a remote beach town—a far cry from their hometown of Melbourne. But Evie isn’t her real name. And Jim isn’t really her uncle.

Jim tells Evie she did something terrible back home, that he’s hiding her to protect her. But Evie can’t remember anything about that night—for all she knows, he’s lying. As fragments of her memory return, she starts to wonder if Jim is really her savior…or her captor.

In a riveting novel that fearlessly plumbs the darkest recesses of the mind, J.P. Pomare explores the fragility of memory and the potential in everyone to hide the truth—even from themselves.

 

 

Call Me Evie is the debut novel by author J.P. Pomare. The story focuses on a 17-year old girl named Kate Bennett who also goes by the name of Evie Turner. The story alternates between Kate's present and her past. This narrative style is sometimes a bit confusing given the initial vagueness of Kate's memories. It also alternates settings between Maketu, New Zealand, and Melbourne, Australia. Kate is your average Australian teenager until she finds herself held captive in New Zealand with a man named Jim. 

Jim claims that she is to go by the name Evie from now on and that it's for her own protection. He concocts a story claiming that he is her "uncle" and her name is "Evie" and they are on holiday, but the truth is just out of reach, an itch she can't quite scratch. He claims she did something horrible back in Melbourne that have the authorities looking for her. While she is kept sedated and nearly locked up daily, Kate is desperate to unveil the meaning behind her dreams and vague memories of a possible crime that she may have committed back in Melbourne.

Kate (Evie) doesn't know what to believe with no access to her phone or the internet. Should she believe Jim or should she run? When she does try to run, she always finds herself right back where she started. The story follows Kate as she attempts to solve the puzzle of what her role truly was during the crime committed in Melbourne. With her hazy memory, Kate is an unreliable narrator who left me second guessing various incidents throughout the plot. 

There are a plethora of well-developed characters in this small bleak New Zealand town, and like Kate, I didn't know who to trust. Is Kate being held captive or protected? Who can I trust? Who is Jim and what are his true motives? There is a giant twist towards the end of the book that really shocked me and thus I won't say more about it for fear it will spoil the story for future readers. This book had everything that I enjoy in a psychological thriller, a remote and atmospheric setting, an unreliable narrator, and a plot that had me changing my mind again and again regarding who was telling the truth and who was the liar.

 
 

After

One

The green first-aid kit is open, with rolls of bandages, eye drops, butterfly stitches spilling out over the vanity like entrails. In my hand are the tiny pointed scissors. Before my eyes, they open and close and open and close. I can hear him coming up the hall. The door creaks.

“Jesus,” he says. He palms his forehead.

I stop breathing.

“Put those down, Kate.”

I toss them beside the sink and sit back on the stool with my arms folded.

His eyes roam over the floor tiles, the clumps of dark hair. “It’s a real mess.” He stands for a moment, before reaching in under the sink and pulling out the hair clippers. He plugs them in at the wall, and they purr to life in his hand. “Be still.”

Blood throbs in my chest. The clippers sing closer. When the steel thrums against my forehead, I scramble up from the stool. My feet slip on the hair, and I steady myself against the door.

“Kate,” he says. The clippers die in his hand.

I turn and run. The bathroom door whips closed behind me. I sprint up the hall and through the kitchen, sidestepping the island. It’s only when he shouts that I realize how close he is. “Stop right now!” Never run, but it’s too late.

I lunge for the front door, opening it inward. I twist through the gap and try to pull it closed but his fingers grip the edge, whitening.

I haven’t thought this through. I haven’t thought at all. Goose bumps rise all over my body. The towel slips from around my torso and pools on the concrete. Pulling with all my strength, I turn my head back and look about me. I could scream. Would anyone hear? The door is opening. If I ran would I make the road? What then?

“Let go of this door,” he says, a sort of stillness on the surface of his voice. “You are only making it worse.”

Squeezing every cell in my body, I wrench, imagining his fingers crushed against the frame, clipping off at the tips.

“Please,” I say. My voice sounds so pathetic and high, I hardly recognize it. “Just let me go.”

The handle slips from between my fingers. My body thumps against the concrete.

“Shit, watch your head,” he says, rushing forward, cradling my skull in his hands. “What the fuck were you thinking? Look at you.” His face hovers over mine. The concrete saps the heat from my skin. “Come on. Inside now.”

“No,” I say. “I want to go home.”

He looks up toward the road, then back at me. The big wire-framed glasses have slipped down his nose and his cheeks glow red. His teeth are yellow; his voice is low and mean. “If you want to act like a child, I’ll treat you like one.” He snatches my head back by the remaining hair. The sound is cotton ripping in my skull. An electric shock shoots down my spine, poking between every vertebra to my hips and down the bones of each leg. I scrabble for purchase as he drags me with one hand knotted in my hair, the other under my shoulder. The concrete turns the skin over on one knee. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I let out a scream.

I hear the sound first. A gunshot suddenness and my cheek is hot and numb. I look up and he’s staring at his hand.

“I…,” he begins. His face is still red but the anger is draining. He exhales. “Just stop.”

Size is important; the smaller I become, the less he can hurt me. “I’m sorry.” My voice is a wind chime. “I was scared.”

A tear of blood rolls down my shin, carving a path among the goose bumps. He crouches. Hauling me up, he folds me over his shoulder. Like that he carries my weak and trembling body back inside to the bathroom.

“That was a stupid thing to do, all right? Where were you planning on running off to like that in the middle of the day? They could be anywhere. They could be watching us right now.”

I’m back on the stool and now when the clippers start, he positions his lean, muscled body between the door and me. I can feel the naked patch in my hair like a burn. The clippers are whirring again; he brings them up my neck. Vrrthonk. The steel teeth gnaw, catching a thatch of hair and jerking my head. Hair brushes my neck. It falls over my scarred thighs to the floor. He thumps the clippers against his palm, blows on them.

“It’s too thick,” he says.

I stare at the towel veiling the mirror. If I could reach it, pull it away, I would see that it’s not real. I would know it’s not happening. He runs the clippers through again, this time peeling the hair away from my scalp. A ribbon of it falls apart and strands stick to the dampness of my cheek. He flicks his wrist to whip the cord away. The molars at the back of my mouth are numb. I try to relax my jaw but I can’t.

“Be still.”

Arms first, then legs, then stomach, but my chest will not become still. It rattles, and within it my heart is the flickering pulse of a bird held in the hand. Can a heart give up? Slow down, seize its valves, and close like a fist?

“It’s almost finished, darling. Please.”

Vrrrthonk. The clippers tangle, clutch my hair like a fist, and pull. The skin of my thighs goes white beneath the grip of my fingers. This bathroom is smaller than the one at home. It’s tacky and dated. This entire house is claustrophobic. Where the fuck are we? I could scream it and yet the headache looms, sharpening its teeth. And one thought rises through it all: He hit me.

Stepping back with one hand on his hip, he examines me.

“It will be fine.” My voice is desperate.

“No, it’s patchy, it’s a mess. You look like a starved dog.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and see a teenage girl. She’s sitting on the edge of a bed. Then she slips to the floor, where she comes to rest. Her legs are tucked beneath her. Over her nose is a saddle of freckles. She rises with the boneless grace of a dandelion, tilts her head, smiles. It’s the video of me. I’m reminded of why I ended up here.

I try to stand but his hand is heavy on my shoulder. It squeezes. I sit back down, tip my head forward, and close my eyes.

He takes most of what’s left of my hair in his fist and picks up the scissors. “Almost finished. Just don’t move for one more minute.” As my hair falls around me, I imagine the scissors puncturing his trachea, lodging between a pair of vertebrae in his neck. These thoughts come and go as quickly as a sneeze. I remind myself of a time when I loved this man and feel sick with it.

“Oh,” he says, letting the word uncoil like smoke from his mouth. “What have we done?”

In the shower, I’m still trembling with adrenaline as I watch the water chase the blood and nicks of hair down the drain. Up in the corners long-legged spiders dance webs on the avocado-green panels. The water pressure is weak and sprays with a panicked hum. Soon the water is cool, and when I shut it off I can hear the pipes shudder in the walls. I dry myself and pull the towel away from the mirror, standing before it. An invisible fist thumps my chest as, for the first time, I see myself.

You can never know the shape of your skull, not until you have peeled the hair away. Even then the skin, the shadows and light, marks and spots, can obscure the bone that lies beneath. Seeing it isn’t enough because as with anything, what you see is not necessarily all there is. I almost don’t trust my eyes. It’s possible the cord stretching to my brain is knotted, or my brain may have a short-circuited connection or snapped synapse. I see only my skull. Closing my eyes, I squeeze a single tear out. I try to forget but the skin remembers, the fingertips remember. When I touch my shorn head I gasp. The thin layer of skin wrapping the bone cage of my brain is so soft and smooth, like the pink foot of a newborn. I can feel the shape, the planes and the curvature. But of course it’s what lies within that is most important of all.

I think: What I know about the human skull, I learned because of him.

Before

Two

This is my first memory. I am in the bath at the old house, the house down in Portsea. Mum was sick and we had a nanny who would drift about the house, laying out my clothes for the day, ferrying me to childcare, spreading raspberry jam over my toast and deftly cutting away the crusts. Her name was Eloise. She was the first woman I wanted to be like.

I recall snippets of her time in the house and her abrupt dismissal. I recall Dad passing her in the kitchen, his hand grazing her spine. I remember all the time I spent nestled against her chest as she read to me on the couch while Mum was sick. And, of course, I remember that bath.

Dad would eventually organize to have the hot-water cylinder replaced, but back then the bath would only reach ankle-depth before the hot water ran out. Extreme emotions-rage, bliss, grief, ecstasy, agony-are amber; they preserve memories whole. I remember every detail of that time. I remember the gold locket that dangled from Eloise’s neck as she bent to shut off the tap. I remember the cloying scent of the lemon bubbles.

“In you get,” Eloise said, her voice sweet and light.

“It’s still cold and empty.”

She frowned and flattened the front of her blouse. “You don’t need to stay in for long, Kate.”

“I don’t want to get in. It’s too cold.”

“Come on,” she said. “Arms up.” She pulled off my top, but when she went to pull off my shorts I held on to them and dropped to my knees.

“No.”

“Kate, please. It’ll only be for five minutes.”

I let her undress me. She picked me up, deposited me in the water, then I screamed.

“Kate,” she said with an owlish lean of the head. “That’s enough.”

I splashed water over the edge of the bath onto the floor as she left the room, then to stop my shivering I wrapped my arms around myself. When she returned, Eloise slipped and had to grab at the sink to keep from falling. She clicked her tongue. “You’ve got water everywhere.”

“It’s cold.”

“Do you want to get out?”

“No,” I said. “Just make it warmer.”

“There’s no more hot water, Kate. We can’t make it warmer.”

“Dad makes it warmer.”

“Well, I don’t see how,” she said. She was on her knees now, dragging a towel over the floor tiles.

“Dad heats the water up in a pot.”

From her position on the floor she looked up at me. I splashed water at her. “Make it warmer!” I said. “Make it warmer!” My voice had become a shrieking demand.

She winced. “Okay, okay,” she said.

She left the room again.

It seemed a very long time before Eloise returned, carrying a large steel pot. Steam drifted in her wake as she strode across the room and set it down on the wooden seat beside the bath.

“Okay, Kate, move your legs away so I can pour a little in.” I drew my legs up to my chest and Eloise poured. A gust of steam rose as the hot water rushed beneath me. It was too hot but it quickly cooled. Eloise set the pot back on the seat. “Better now?”

“I’m still cold.”

She tested the water with her hand. “You’ll be fine. That’s warm enough.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Can you just sit for a few minutes? I have to get your dinner on.”

Leaving the door open, she walked away up the hall.

The water was still too cold.

“Eloise!” I called.

No response.

“Eloise!”

Still nothing.

Gripping the edge of the bath, I stood and reached for the handles of the pot. It was heavy, almost too heavy for me to lift. Stepping backward, I dragged it over the lip of the bath. The water rocked within. The edge came to rest against my stomach. It seared. I fell back and a scream ripped from my throat as the pot tipped over my legs. I screamed and screamed as, beneath the surface of the water, blisters bubbled on my thighs.

Then Eloise was there, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide. She pulled me from the bath but the pain didn’t stop. The screaming didn’t stop. I thought it never would. A howl escaped that may have lasted seconds or minutes or hours. Hands holding me under flowing water. I couldn’t distinguish hot from cold. A long throat-scorching vowel of pain. This is my first memory.

Part Two

Out of Its Misery

In the past month, how often have you been upset or scared by something that happened unexpectedly?

0. never; 1. rarely; 2. sometimes; 3. often; 4. all the time

After

Three

He is in the kitchen, thumping about. I’ve decided to call him Jim. The grinding of the juicer fills the house as the first piece of beetroot churns through. The carrots go in next, then small stringy mushrooms, a pair of Brazil nuts. The spout coughs out a foaming blood-rich concoction. When the juicer thunks to a stop, the classical music coming from the small stereo in the lounge can be heard again. He has made toasted sandwiches, crusts removed and cut into triangles. His glasses are on the island. I try them on but the world through them doesn’t change. The lenses are just glass.

“Go on, darling,” he says. “Eat.”

I’m surprised by how my body responds, how quickly I wolf down the sandwiches. It’s as though I haven’t eaten in weeks.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re doing really well.”

“My hair,” I say, looking up at him.

He sucks his lips, standing so close that I can see the tiny constellations of blood vessels in his cheeks, the pores of his nose.

“It’ll grow.”

He stirs a scoop of white powder through the juice and brings it over to me. I block my nose and take a long sip. The taste is earthy and bitter. I cough.

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#Review - The Gossamer Mage by Julie E. Czerneda #Fantasy

Series: Standalone?
Format: E-Galley, 416 pages
Release Date: August 6, 2019
Publisher: DAW
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Epic

From an Aurora Award-winning author comes a new fantasy epic in which one mage must stand against a Deathless Goddess who controls all magic

Only in Tananen do people worship a single deity: the Deathless Goddess. Only in this small, forbidden realm, are there those haunted by words of no language known to woman or man. The words are Her Gift, and they summon magic.

Mage scribes learn to write Her words as intentions: spells to make beasts or plants, designed to any purpose. If an intention is flawed, what the mage creates is a gossamer, a magical creature as wild and free as it is costly for the mage.

For Her Gift comes at a steep price. Each successful intention ages a mage until they dare no more. But her magic demands to be used; the Deathless Goddess will take her fee, and mages will die.

To end this terrible toll, the greatest mage in Tananen vows to find and destroy Her. He has yet to learn She is all that protects Tananen from what waits outside. And all that keeps magic alive.

Story Locale: Fantasy world

The Gossamer Mage, by author Julie E. Czerneda, is a story that takes place in a fantasy land called Tananen. The world’s only remaining magic is in Tananen, where only women can speak the Deathless Goddess language, and only men can write her spells – both at a terrible cost. But now something dangerous and dark has come into Tiler’s Hold, destroying magic creations, and silencing the Goddess.  Meanwhile, there is a mage on a mission to destroy said Goddess not knowing that with her death, an even larger threat may rise.

The two primary characters in this book are Maleonarial, a so called mad mage who has been away from civilization for 12 years. Sick of the premature aging aspect of magic, the mage scribe decides that he is going to find the Deathless Goddess and end her. But, the Deathless Goddess isn’t the only being on the scene. Kait (Kaitealyon) Alder is one of the Daughters of the Goddess who can no longer hear the Goddess, but she can hear an evil that is seeping into every crack in Tiler's Hold and elsewhere. Since women can understand the Goddess and men have the ability to write her words but not understand them, they must team up in order to figure out what exactly is happening and stop it.

Fairness in reviewing, this book to a lot of stamina for me not to toss it aside, and to move on to something better. But, since I am unstable when it comes to finishing books even if I have to jump over several dozen pages at once, I persevered.  Julie Czerneda is a new to me author therefore I had not expectations of what to expect while reading her story. The ending to me was an abstract failing. There was no real indication that the story was wrapped up, or what really happened to the characters were are supposed to care about. There’s a lot of shifting narratives in this book, which has around 6 chapter total, which makes it more difficult to keep track of the characters and the plot.

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