[Tina]

Wow. Sounds awesome, Ron.

[Ron_Beckett]

It is Tina.

That's what I'll put in my review too 'kay Tina?- My favorite paragraphs. All ready got a couple.

[Tina]

Awesome idea.

[kostilicious]

Originally Posted by Tina (View Post) It's not. I hope you enjoy, Holly. Let me know when you get a chance to read it. We can discuss. I am ready to read the next one

is it a series? Or were you just referring to "you are finished with this book so you can read another one"??



Jen.. it's already out? Or did you mean 2015?
No I haven't ... I ave it on my Kindle.. but there are sooo many books I want to read I don't know which ones first..

[Stay to the Lights]

Holly, 2015. There are some reasons it had been pushed back, but whatever makes Karen happy.
You should read Iced After you finish Allegiant

[Tina]

Yes, it's a series Holly Only two so far.

[kostilicious]

Jen.. I see... I wanted to finish Possesion.. and read The King.. and the VM book.. and I should read other series I began.. and Argh.. too many books to read...

Thanks Tina

[Tina]

Has anyone read a book lately where they thought a paragraph stood out?

[Stay to the Lights]

My purpose had delivered a new hope. That one day,I might do something worthy of his forgiveness. Of his love. That was the moment I made myself a promise. That I would do whatever it took. I’d see this through to the end. Make it right. This promise, above all others, I will gladly keep.

[Tina]

That's awesome.

One of the many funny scenes between the hero and heroine:

"Why are you trying to sneak carrots into me?" "I'm not." "So there are not carrots in that?" I gazed at the tiny pieces of orange. "Well... okay..." He was waiting, eyebrows raised.

[Stay to the Lights]

Aha that's cute.

[Stay to the Lights]

“I’m fine, Alexandra.” I tell her, though I’m not sure if she hears me. My voice is lost in the sweet-scented pillow. “I have the flu.” I hear the opening of a pizza box and a groan as the stench of rotting cheese and sausage drifts from the container. “Not exactly the diet of someone with the flu, Little Brother.” I hear further shuffling of beer bottles and garbage, and I know she’s starting to straighten the mess up. I’m not the only neat freak in my family. “Oh, that’s just wrong!” She inhales sharply, and, judging by the stink that joins the putrid pizza aroma, I’m thinking she just opened a three-day-old ice cream container that wasn’t as empty as I’d thought. “Drew.” She shakes my shoulders gently. I give in and sit up, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes as I do. “Talk to me,” she begs. “What’s going on? What happened?” As I look at the troubled expression of my big bitch of a sister, I’m thrown twenty-two years back in time. I’m six years old and my hamster, Mr. Wuzzles, has just died. And just like that day, the painful truth is ripped from my lungs. “It finally happened.” “What happened?” “What you’ve been wishing on me all these years,” I whisper. “I fell in love.”

[Stay to the Lights]

Besides, there were plenty of ways to make someone quit breathing. I didn’t need my magic to help me with that. “The Spider.” Evelyn’s scarlet lips twitched, and she allowed herself a small titter. “As if someone like you could be someone like that. The most feared assassin in the South.” “East of the Mississippi,” I corrected her again. “And I most certainly am the Spider. In fact, I’m going to kill you, Evelyn. T-minus three minutes and counting.” Maybe it was the calm way I stared at her, my gray eyes steady and level. Or perhaps it was the complete lack of emotion in my tone. But the laughter caught and died in Evelyn’s throat like an animal in a trap. She wouldn’t be too far behind.

[Stay to the Lights]

The Mask eyes my brother for a long moment. I don’t know how Darin can remain unruffled beneath that gaze. “You’re prepared for this.” The smallest bit of surprise creeps into the Mask’s voice. “Straight back. Deep breathing. Same answers to different questions. Who trained you, boy?” When Darin doesn’t answer, the Mask shrugs. “A few weeks in prison will loosen your tongue.” Nan and I exchange a frightened glance. If Darin ends up in a Martial prison, we’ll never see him again. He’ll spend weeks in interrogation, and after that they’ll either sell him as a slave or kill him. “He’s just a boy,” Pop speaks slowly, as if to an angry patient. “Please—” Steel flashes, and Pop drops like a stone. The Mask moves so swiftly that I don’t understand what he has done. Not until Nan rushes forward. Not until she lets out a shrill keen, a shaft of pure pain that brings me to my knees. Pop. Skies, not Pop. A dozen vows sear themselves into my mind. I’ll never disobey again, I’ll never do anything wrong, I’ll never complain about my work, if only Pop lives. But Nan tears her hair and screams, and if Pop was alive, he’d never let her go on like that. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it. Darin’s calm is sheared away as if by a scythe, his face blanched with a horror I feel down to my bones. Nan stumbles to her feet and takes one tottering step toward the Mask. He reaches out to her, as if to put his hand on her shoulder. The last thing I see in my grandmother’s eyes is terror. Then the Mask’s gauntleted wrist flashes once, leaving a thin red line across Nan’s throat, a line that grows wider and redder as she falls. Her body hits the floor with a thud, her eyes still open and shining with tears as blood pours from her neck and into the rug we knotted together last winter. “Sir,” one of the legionnaires says. “An hour until dawn.” “Get the boy out of here.” The Mask doesn’t give Nan a second glance. “And burn this place down.” He turns to me then, and I wish I could fade like a shadow into the wall behind me. I wish for it harder than I’ve ever wished for anything, knowing all the while how foolish it is. The soldiers flanking me grin at each other as the Mask takes a slow step in my direction. He holds my gaze as if he can smell my fear, a cobra enthralling its prey. No, please, no. Disappear, I want to disappear. The Mask blinks, some foreign emotion flickering across his eyes—surprise or shock, I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. Because in that moment, Darin leaps up from the floor. While I cowered, he loosened his bindings. His hands stretch out like claws as he lunges for the Mask’s throat. His rage lends him a lion’s strength, and for a second he is every inch our mother, honey hair glowing, eyes blazing, mouth twisted in a feral snarl. The Mask backs into the blood pooled near Nan’s head, and Darin is on him, knocking him to the ground, raining down blows. The legionnaires stand frozen in disbelief and then come to their senses, surging forward, shouting and swearing. Darin pulls a dagger free from the Mask’s belt before the legionnaires tackle him. “Laia!” my brother shouts. “Run—” Don’t run, Laia. Help him. Fight. But I think of the Mask’s cold regard, of the violence in his eyes. I’ve always loved dark-haired girls. He will rape me. Then he will kill me. I shudder and back into the hallway. No one stops me. No one notices. “Laia!” Darin cries out, sounding like I’ve never heard him. Frantic. Trapped. He told me to run, but if I screamed like that, he would come. He would never leave me. I stop. Help him, Laia, a voice orders in my head. Move. And another voice, more insistent, more powerful. You can’t save him. Do what he says. Run. Flame flickers at the edge of my vision, and I smell smoke. One of the legionnaires has started torching the house. In minutes, fire will consume it. “Bind him properly this time and get him into an interrogation cell.” The Mask removes himself from the fray, rubbing his jaw. When he sees me backing down the hallway, he goes strangely still. Reluctantly, I meet his eyes, and he tilts his head. “Run, little girl,” he says. My brother is still fighting, and his screams slice right through me. I know then that I will hear them over and over again, echoing in every hour of every day until I am dead or I make it right. I know it. And still, I run.

An Ember in the Ashes - Sabba Tahir

[Stay to the Lights]

‘It’s a trick,’ someone said. ‘Yeah, but how?’ The first one looked at the others, bewildered. ‘I heard him hit. You all saw it. No one survives that.’ He pointed at Sacha from a safe distance, his hand trembling. Sacha just blinked at him. ‘That boy was dead. Now he… isn’t.’ ‘That’s impossible,’ the other one said stubbornly. ‘It’s a con.’ Sacha could have told them it wasn’t a trick, wasn’t magic or illusion. It was just the way things were: he would die on the day of his eighteenth birthday and not one day sooner. What would kill him later, today saved his life. But he said nothing. They’d never believe it anyway.