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17 April 2013

The Claiming Words by Tricia Drammeh - CBLS Book Barrage

YA Paranormal/Fantasy Romance
Interracial/Multicultural
Publisher: Iconic Publishing
Heat Level:
Sweet
Word Count:
82,000


Buy Links
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Claiming-Words-ebook/dp/B009LXGE3E/
B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-claiming-words-tricia-drammeh/1112392611

Blurb
The Alexanders have always kept their secrets hidden…

When sixteen-year-old Jace Alexander moves to the small town of Oaktree, Georgia, he attracts the attention of every girl in school. Shy, introverted Alisa Cole immediately casts Jace in the leading role of her latest fantasy, but she assumes he’ll never return her interest. After she saves Jace from a Hunter, everything changes. Her accidental discovery of Jace’s secret propels her into a world of magic and danger. Alisa’s newfound courage is put to the test when Jace introduces her to his intimidating older brother, Bryce, and she decides she would rather battle a Hunter than endure another moment under Bryce’s intense scrutiny.

Jace and Bryce aren’t the only ones with secrets…

Rachel Stevens is the girl who has it all. She’s beautiful, popular, and in possession of an ancient power which endangers not only her, but those sent to protect her. Jace is drawn to Rachel—and he isn’t the only one. The Demon Re’Vel will do anything to claim her—even if it means waging a war with the entire Alexander family. As layers of secrets are peeled away, revealing the truth of her heritage and her family’s betrayal, Rachel struggles to resist an immortal suitor who stalks her in her dreams. With the Alexanders fighting to protect her, can Rachel escape the power of the Demon and his Claiming Words?



EXCERPT

The temperatures during the second week of school reached record highs, and the walk home was beyond miserable. I’d been too apathetic to take my driver’s test; consequently, I was practically the only junior in my high-school forced to either take the bus or hoof it. I cut through a field behind the school to get home faster. The hot sun beat down on my short, dark hair, and I felt a line of sweat slither down my back.  

I noticed two figures just ahead of me, and nearly turned back. Most of my fellow classmates despised me, and since the feeling was mutual, I tried to avoid contact with them whenever possible. When I recognized Jace, I cursed the fact that I had no social skills to speak of. He seemed different from the people I’d grown up with, and might have stopped to speak to me. He’d managed to resist Becky, after all.

Jace wasn’t the only person who’d resisted my cousin; I could only hope he would be able to hold out longer than the last guy. Back in middle school, Becky and I both liked the same boy, but when he expressed interest in me instead of her, my popular cousin retaliated by spreading vicious rumors about me. Too shy to fight back, I remained silent while the whole school turned against me. Long after the boy moved away, long after Becky fell in love with someone else, the repercussions of that ill-fated crush continued to haunt me. 

I thought about Jace and how I might be willing to go through the whole love-triangle drama all over again on the off-chance that he might return my interest. Walking slowly through the field, a vague fantasy began to form inside my head: Jace asking me out, our whirlwind courtship, eventual proposal, and elopement to Vegas. 

I squinted and peered into the distance, but couldn’t identify the person who stood just a few feet away from Jace. Oaktree, Georgia was a small town and I knew almost everyone, but I didn’t recognize this guy. They circled each other, and at first, I thought the two guys were messing around. Cautiously, I drew closer and realized I’d misinterpreted the situation. Jace leapt to the side as the large man lunged at him. I let out a startled shriek. 

Jace looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Don’t come any closer!” I staggered back a step and almost tripped over my own feet.   

The attacker took advantage of Jace’s brief distraction. He flew toward my classmate and pinned him to the ground, clenching one hand around Jace’s throat. Jace struggled for about a minute, and then stopped. I found it odd the attacker paid absolutely no attention to me. Generally, psychos went for defenseless females, or so I’d thought.  

I briefly considered calling 911; the attacker didn’t seem to care what I did. Jace, however, seemed to need more immediate help. Without considering the consequences of my actions, I sprinted forward and swung my heavy book bag at the man’s face. I hit him dead on, and he turned his attention to me for a second or two. His blood-red eyes bore into mine, and I recoiled in horror.

Apparently, I’d distracted the red-eyed man enough to cause him to release his death grip on my classmate. Jace scrambled away from his attacker, and leapt to his feet. They faced off once again. Jace, face screwed up in concentration, crouched low and sprang toward his enemy in a crouching roll. The attacker bared his teeth and leapt out of the way effortlessly. Red-eyes certainly seemed to have the advantage in the battle. In fear and disbelief, I watched as he formed a ball of fire in the palm of his hand and hurled it at Jace. My classmate put his hands up, palms facing outward, and the fireball sizzled into nothing. 

Jace disappeared and abruptly reappeared in a spot behind the attacker. With supernatural speed, he jumped at the man and hooked his arm around his neck. He wrenched the man’s head to the side, and Red-eyes slumped to the ground. Jace wiped at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand, and then kicked the man viciously in the ribs. He reared back to kick again, but stopped when he saw me.  

We stared at each other for a moment. Jace walked over to me and asked, “Are you okay?” I nodded. “We need to get out of here in case there are more of them,” he said, gesturing toward the lifeless body on the ground a few feet away from us. I flinched. Jace walked back and forth through the tall grass, scrutinizing the area closely. He bent down and picked up a textbook.

I contemplated running back toward the school and screaming for help, but I couldn’t seem to propel myself forward. I stood rooted to the spot, my legs trembling, as I fought back a bout of nausea.  

“Let’s go,” Jace said in my direction. When I didn’t move, he walked over to me and took my hand. I pulled it away. “Come on, Alisa. You’re safe with me. I promise. Let’s go back to my house, and I’ll explain everything to you when we get there.” Through my haze of shock, I felt a brief sense of elation that he even knew my name. He lifted my book bag from the ground and began walking away. 

Staring at my book bag dangling from his shoulder, I irrationally wondered whether or not it was a crime weapon and if my limited participation made me an accomplice to a murder. I questioned the wisdom of not having called the police.

“Should I call 911?” I asked stupidly. “I’m sure you won’t be in trouble. He attacked you first. I’m a witness.”

He turned back to look at me. “Alisa, that thing back there isn’t dead. You can’t kill a Hunter that easily. He’s just stunned. There could be more of them, so we should really get out of here.” My choice was follow Jace, this guy I didn’t really know, or stay in the field with the dangerous red-eyed man. I followed Jace.  


About the Author
Tricia Drammeh is a wife and a mother of four children. Although she currently lives in Missouri, she has called many places home, including Georgia, Ohio, and California. She’s worked in retail, customer service, sales, and accounting, but writing has always been her dream career. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, drinking vast amounts of coffee, and spending time with her family and the multitude of animals who have taken over her home. Tricia is currently working on her sixth novel.

Connect with Tricia Drammeh
The Book’s Site: http://theclaimingwords.com/
Author’s Website: http://www.triciadrammeh.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tricia-Drammeh-Author/453408644723825

Twitter: @triciadrammeh



 

Schedule:












'STARQUEST'    'CHILDREN OF THE MIST'  (The sequel to Starquest)  Dancing With Fate      'Freeread':'A BARGAIN WITH DEATH

                  Also available on Kindle

7 December 2012

Book tour blitz and review for Christmas Eve by Angela Burns

Review of a Christmas Eve by Angela Burns 

'Christmas Eve' is a simple Winter Ghost Story. A tale of one womans redemption from immeasurable suffering, taking you on a journey to the Heights of Heaven and the Gates of Hell, exploring the intricacies of human nature and the the deigns of fate through the eyes of a family left in torment following a horrendous accident. 'Christmas Eve' is a heart-warming read, set over the night when we all feel a little magic in the air.'

'Christmas Eve' is the story of a family burdened by grief at the loss of the beloved elder daughter, Jo, on Christmas Eve the previous year. In particular, her mother, Janet, who cannot let go of her sorrow and her anger toward the drunken driver who killed Jo. Janet is unable to see that her all consuming grief is not only dragging her deeper into a dark abyss of despair, but impacting on her husband Dave and younger daughter, Alice, driving an invisible wedge between them.

The arrival of a charismatic stranger on Christmas Eve is to have repercussions that neither she nor David could foresee. At first she is wary of Nick, and sees his arrival as an intrusion. However, Nick offers her an unusual gift, the choice of descending deeper into the darkness into which she has descended, or the chance to forge her own salvation and heal the rift driving her family apart, through suffering, self recognition and forgiveness.

This is a beautiful, poignant Christmas story, which I read almost in one sitting.  At first I  found the present tense narrative a little disconcerting, especially having  just read another story in that tense, which I did not particularly enjoy, and found very distracting and disjointed. This was the case with 'Christmas Eve' however. The present tense in this instance actually gives the story an immediacy and sense of reality which would not have worked quite so well had it been told in the past tense, and it is beautifully written with some almost poetic turns of phrase. As it unfolded it reminded me a little of 'A Christmas Carol' and also'The Shack' by William Paul Young. The inevitable drama of the climax is satisfying in itself, but this is followed by a lovely little twist, which not only reveals Nick's true identity, but gives a festive as well as a spiritual reason for his involvement with the family, and the part the youngest daughter played in his arrival, and makes  for a very satisfactory and heartwarming conclusion. I thoroughly enjoyed 'Christmas Eve'. I was glad I'd read it,  and it's one of the those rare stories that made me wish I'd written it myself!


EXCERPT:

“Jo’s on the phone.”

This simple sentence pushes her headlong into the abyss of insanity, causing her to throw up as she spirals into incomprehension, not caring which of these winter ghosts she is being persecuted by.

This isn’t real. This can’t be happening!

Repeating this mantra provides no comfort as she rocks back and forth on the sofa, sobbing wildly, floods of tears burning her, her hands covering her face. She lets out an almighty scream. Her dishevelled state and pitiful wails do not attract the revellers as she stands and looks around the room.

The familiar faces of friends and family from the past, all gathered for their annual celebration of the holiday they once held dear, remain oblivious to her presence.

Brutally trembling, holding onto the furniture for support, she makes her way slowly through the room. Disjointed snatches of conversations resonate in her skull, feeding an intense headache of confusion.

Jo is on the phone…I need to talk to Jo. Am I dead? Are these ghosts? Am I the Ghost? Why can’t they see me?

She was right; they couldn’t see her or hear her–apart from one man.

He stands resolutely in the bay window of the room, by the grandiose tree, in mid-conversation with Janet’s boss and her partner, when he stops and glances at her, smiling warmly.

Nick! She shouts in her mind, unable to form the word.

She tries again to call out, but each time the syllables stifle in her throat, sentencing her to a wretched silence from which she cannot flee.

Winking at her, he returns to his previous conversation.

You were here on that night, damn you! Why can’t I remember you?

Continuing through into the entrance hall, she slowly drags her feet on the flagstones, crippled by her sickness.

I must get to the phone.

There are more people there, many more, crammed, solemn, like cattle to the slaughter. This time, however, they do not belong to her memories. None of them speak as she ambles her way through. Hunched like zombies, they study her every step as she moves pathetically amongst them.

They can see me.

Their costumes reflect the history of the life once told in this home – four hundred years of history. Mortified, she remains possessed by the miraculous chance of hearing her daughter's beautiful voice again, and has no time to question what is happening.

As she approaches the kitchen where the phone is kept, a cold wind brushes past her arm. Horror-struck to see her other self sweep through her as she quickly walks towards the kitchen, towards the phone, another scream begins to curdle as she realises that she shares one common denominator with the guests in the
hall. They are all ghosts. The ghosts of Stonebridge Farm. It is only her determination to hear her daughter once again that chokes her cries, refocusing her.

I must … get … to that … phone.

Each weighty step exhausts her as she trudges through the walls of dead energy that surround her.

Am I dead? What the heck happened? Where’s Nick? I’m coming Jo … sweetheart … please don’t go … I’m coming.

The other Janet had already picked up the phone as she stumbles into the kitchen.

DAMN YOU, YOU SELFISH BITCH! THAT WAS MY CALL! She screams at herself in deathly silence.

Helpless and panicking, she calls wildly at the others to help her.

Please help me! HELP ME! She doesn’t know what she is doing … what she is saying! FOR GOD’S SAKE, PLEASE WON’T SOMEBODY HELP ME! I NEED TO SPEAK TO MY DAUGHTER!

ASIN: B00AHK0H92 

About the Author:
Angela Burns is a retired Police Officer, living with her partner and children in Norwich, Norfolk. Having been given the gift of time, she now writes full time, living her ambition to share the stories that have floated around her head for so long.


Don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter contest to win a copy of 'Christmas Eve' 




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'STARQUEST'    'CHILDREN OF THE MIST'  (The sequel to Starquest)  Dancing With Fate     
'Freeread':'A BARGAIN WITH DEATH      Also available on Kindle