'Ink & Arrows' is one of those titles that just grabs your heart with both hands, unapologetically, right at the start of the story and then never lets go.
It's no exaggeration to say I loved, LOVED this story, the richness of the main character and her romantic interest to be, and the odds against them even surviving. Let alone, doing so together.
Rea is a member of a tribe called the Suveri, absolutely loathed by the people in the city neighboring her small home. Her tribe specializes in tattoos with magical properties, both highly sought after and simultaneously scorned as something hideous. Sebestyén is a decorated General, a warrior, and a man destined to be Emperor of the very people who hate her kind. And she hates him.
Though Rea blames his kind for the death of her father, they strike a bargain. In exchange for teaching him the tattooing artistry of her people, he saves her from a dire circumstance and agrees to fulfill three wishes for her.
Their relationship is complicated, rife with conflict. They both harbor ideas of the other going into the agreement that may or may not be accurate and while she lives a life mostly free of restraints, his is quite the opposite.
Admittedly, I fell for him instantly. Though he was sometimes standoffish, there's also just a sense of rather adorable wickedness about him when we first meet him. The more she rails against him, the more amusing he seems to find her. And fine.. fair.. characters like that are a bit of a weakness for me.
The story is beautifully written, the dialogue feels easy, and honestly.. I was emotional and invested through the entire book. I have no idea if there will be more. I can barely find any information about the author, but that just intrigues me further.
I have only one complaint.. and upon looking back at the rest of the story, it's a small one. There's a point where things wrap up rather suddenly.. like the author just decided.. "that's it, I've done enough." We're sort of forwarded through a series of events that impact everyone pretty dramatically and just given a neat little ending. I really feel the events were important enough we should have experienced some of them.. but there's just.. 'decision' - 'time passes' - 'end.'
Nonetheless, I can tell you.. I hope there will be more. I want to see what the future holds for the people in the world of Ink & Arrows. I want to read more work by this author and only yesterday will be soon enough. No later.
To Seduce a Fae
I shake so hard, my hands curling into balls. “They could have killed you.”
“I told you to stay in the room,” he reprimands me.
“Right. And if I had obeyed your stupid command, you’d be dead. Then what?”
“You coming out here could have gotten you killed,” he roars, his cheeks flushing with anger. Fingers squeeze my arms tight as he holds me so close, so damn hard. “I want to spank your ass for pulling that shit out there.”
We stare each other down, and that burning fire in my chest explodes. All I see are those full lips, the look in his eyes drowning in need. “Let me go!” I yell.
Instead, he angles closer, and my body responds instantly. Our mouths clash and our kiss is primal and chaotic. Teeth and lips and hands everywhere. I rake through his hair, fisting it, wrenching him closer. I bite down on his lip, and sweet, metallic blood lingers on my tongue. My hands seize his collar, and I’m hauling him against me. I’ve been dreaming of kissing him since seeing him in the bar, and now this is actually happening.
I may hate him so much, but I want him even more.
Strong hands grasp my hips and he has me in his arms and off my feet so fast, it takes me off guard. I clasp my legs around his hips and he pins me to the side of the car, kissing me with the hunger of a wolf.
Blood Bound: A Lowrance Vampires Novel
Another night, another vampire, another double-dead end. If I didn’t get lucky soon, I’d run out of miscreants to drain, stake, decapitate, and decorate with holy wafers. In reality, I only needed to stake the toothy bastards, but I figured if I was going to kill every damned unclaimed vampire in New York City, I’d do so with style and get a free meal out of the deal at the same time.
In life, I’d done well for myself; I’d become my father’s perfect daughter, dedicating every waking moment to my budding career as a corporate lawyer on a mission to protect his business interests. In death, or undeath as it was, I’d become a big nothing. I couldn’t even claim I’d become a big fat nothing, as I kept losing weight instead of gaining it, no matter how many of my kind I tagged, bagged, drained, and tossed out with the trash.
Penelope Francis was dead and gone to everyone who mattered, even me.
My stomach reminded me of my neglect with a displeased gurgle. Grunting my dismay over having completely drained another vampire without slaking my hunger, I checked his pockets for cash and found nothing but lint, not even a wallet, ID, or pocket change.
If he’d had food hidden in his pockets, I might’ve been tempted to try my luck. If I ever ditched the relentless hunger, I’d never take food for granted again. I resented my maker’s decision to abandon me in a shallow grave, forcing me to fend for myself. The bastard could’ve left a damned note with a few clues, especially in the feeding department. A manual about life as a vampire would’ve been appreciated. I still wasn’t sure what I could eat. Shortly after I’d risen, I’d tried a slice of pizza once and only once. It hadn’t ended well. I dodged food, afraid I’d throw it up along with my literal guts.
Just to be sure, I rechecked my victim’s body to confirm his lack of cash, ID, or food.
Nothing. Color me not surprised.
I hated killing those as destitute as I, but I refused to harbor guilt over ridding the world of a vampire who hunted homeless teens struggling to survive New York’s harshest streets. While I hoped the kids would survive, I had my doubts.
Miscreants—unclaimed, rogues, or whatever society called the illegal vampires lurking on the streets—couldn’t afford to let their prey live to tell the tale. When found, humans and preternatural alike hunted us to ensure we never bothered anyone again.
Living on borrowed time sucked, as did homelessness. When I found the vampire who’d turned me, I’d take my time draining him. I’d enjoy every swallow. I’d turn his last moments into a masterpiece of brutality.
All I knew was that my maker had been a man, and he’d left some dark mark on me, something that tainted my soul. I could still feel his corrupting influence deep within, a pressure on my heart.
Until I breathed my last for the second time, I’d spend every night seeking him out so I could end his miserable existence. I still wasn’t sure why I’d been targeted or how I’d survived the transition from human to vampire without help. My desire for revenge confirmed one unassailable truth: I was no better than the filth I hunted.
'The Not-So Dead' by Isaiyan Morrison is one of those titles that seems really interesting from the get-go.
It's a pretty modern paranormal story about a group of undead who have been found along the way by their leader, Dusk, and kept together like a family. He and his girlfriend Salome are sort of the parental figures. Rounded out by Tristan.. the century old cowboy, Maddy.. the well.. bratty mean girl, and Faye.. the youngest of the brood, they arrive in a place where they hope to settle down with the help of a human friend, only to find danger lurking in the small town of.. wait for it.. Hueman. Now, if you winced at that like I did, let me just tell you now.. it never stopped being cringey.
I was actually pretty eager to get my hands on this novel because I love paranormal stories, but typically they're written about the more common figures.. vampires.. weres.. fae.. and what have you. What made this story stand out for me was the fact it centered on a group of wraithes and I'd never read a modern story involving them before. The idea that an author thought to tackle something so unusual implied to me that she probably wanted to be able to really define them herself.. what they were like.. what made them unique and interesting.. and so different from all the go-to supernatural figures out there.
Unfortunately, wraithes as a species really didn't get much attention. A couple minor differences are thrown into the story like tokens meant to support the theory they're something else, but it was a really minimal effort. And.. that seemed to be the tone of the book. Minimal effort.
Dusk and Salome have this long time love affair you get glimpses of every time they're in a room together. They barely part. But there's no substance shown to really support that relationship we can tell is there. Even their names imply they should be figures of fascination.. mystery.. sensuality.. something.. but they're as paper thin as everyone else in the book.
Faye, the main character, meets up with a human she finds herself inevitably attracted to. Unfortunately, they have very little chemistry, which I guess is less disappointing that the couple who does.. but never shows it. Carter is sweet though, if not a little reckless, I just found I didn't really care much about anyone but Dusk and Salome.. and having your audience more interested in side characters they barely see.. isn't a good sign.
In fact, the only things that did seem to get more than a cursory bit of development, were the.. let's call them artifacts. The artifacts in the hands of the enemies actually sound really interesting. Of all the squandered potential in the book, these suffer from that the least. But even the group that holds them is just a vague mention here and there despite having caused years worth of strife.
I can say it's a fast read, if you don't feel like you're tormenting yourself. Whenever I was able to push myself to continue it, the chapters went by quickly, but it was a chore. It's not a bad story, it's just not an interesting one either.. and it wasn't worth my time.
'The Mythicz' is a children's graphic novel/comic book series written by the French team of Philippe Ogaki and Patricia Lyfoung, and Patrick Sobral.
First released in France under the name Les Mythics in 2018, the title is set to begin release in the U.S. on March 24th, 2020. It is your basic good vs evil tale, stretching across the ages to bring legendary heroes together with their descendants, when the evil the ancient team had vanquished, returns to create havoc all over again.
Introduced in a three-part origin story, we get to meet the first half of the heroes in the first installment, with the rest coming in the second book. Yuko is a Japanese student, who plays drums in the school band, and discovers she's the descendant of Raijin.. the god of lightning, thunder, and storms. Amir is basically an orphaned child of a wealthy family, being raised by appointed guardians and sort of a little lord of the area he resides in. As descendant of the god Horus, he wields healing magic. And Abigail, is descendant of Freya, a singer who uses the power of sound.
Though each segment was formulaic, I find it forgivable.. both since it's meant for 8-12 year olds and due to the fact it's 3 pure origin stories back to back. Unfortunately, until the 3rd book releases, we won't really get to see what the structure is like. But.. it's really cute.
Each character has a well formed backstory, complete with rivals of their own. They go through training to learn to use their inherited abilities, search for legendary weapons, and fight the form evil takes on their turf. Amir is actually a darling and I adore the child. So far, he's my favorite.
It'd make a good gift for children who love adventure and magic, mythology, and don't mind some walking dead. If they're precious and like their violence a bit more.. grown up, this probably isn't the story for them. But most younger kids would probably have a good time with it.
The Not-So Dead
As far as Faye knew, explorers explored, but she didn’t tell Maddy that. She probably would have stayed there waiting for Dusk to come back, but another person shakily emerged from inside the club. It was the guy from before, the one she had fed on. He swayed, and his legs shook heavily as he turned toward her and made eye contact. That was when she decided to leave. She grabbed her backpack from the ground, stuffed her gaming device back into it, and jogged off after Maddy.
“Hey! Wait!” She heard the man shouting after her.
She caught up to Maddy and dared not to look back. The man chased after her, and when he caught up with them, he grabbed Faye’s arm and forced her around. His eyes drooped. “What did you do to me?” he mumbled.
Faye didn’t know what to do. She drew closer to Maddy, even reaching out to take her arm. Then he was gone.
There was a brief eddy of wind as Maddy moved faster than a human eye could follow. She took hold of the situation and forced the weirdo to release his grip before she tossed him into an alley. His body slammed against the wall, and she stood over him a second later.
The veins underneath her skin pulsated red, and with both hands on his face, she fed.
Then it was over. He crumpled to the ground, and she dragged him behind a dumpster. None of the passersby noticed what had happened.
“That’s how you take care of drunken idiots.” She wiped her hands and strolled down the street.
“Did you kill him?”
Maddy shot her an evil glare. “I should have, but no, he’ll wake up in a few hours.”
“Th-thank you,” Faye mumbled.
Maddy sneered. “Don’t thank me. Next time, stand up for yourself, Dora. You could have done that just as easily as I did.”
She turned and continued moving down the street, away from the center of town. Faye followed. They walked for a while in silence. Maddy was right; she could have handled the guy as easily as she had. So why had she been so scared?
“I’m Asian,” Faye muttered.
“What?” Maddy asked.
“I’m not Hispanic.”
Maddy stopped and whirled on her. “What?”
“Dora isn’t Asian.” Faye avoided her eyes.
Maddy threw her hands up. “I don’t call you Dora because I think you’re Hispanic, dumb ass. It’s ’cause you carry that stupid backpack everywhere.”
“I carry my games.”
“You carry kid toys, like your games,” she said. “You know, Dora, you could use those to lure stupid nerds like that boy, but you don’t.”
“Whatever the boy’s name is. I mean, why hang out with that if you aren’t going to at least try him?”
“I didn’t want to leech off him.”
“My God, you’re just annoying as all hell, aren’t you?” Maddy turned down a side street. “After two years, you’d think you would’ve grown into this by now, but no. You still get all depressed when it’s time to eat.”
“How long did it take you to get used to it?”
Maddy slowed her steps. “As soon as it happened. I had no regrets. Actually”—she faced Faye—“I was happy it happened. I felt special because the wraith who did this to me chose me. He could’ve killed me after he took what he wanted, but he didn’t.” She jabbed her finger in Faye’s chest. “Instead he took it all and he made me into what I am now. He understood that taking only a little doesn’t stop the hunger.”
“We take just a little so they won’t end up like us. That’s what Dusk says.”
“If you always do that, you start to rot and smell like death. Eventually you need to take it all.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe you want that to happen to you again? You want the death splotch.”
Faye remembered the moment vividly. First it had started with a small blemish on the skin. Then it spread all over her body, leaving a putrid stench that even her acute sense of smell couldn’t take. “But I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“It’s a little too late to be the pacifist,” she growled. “We all do it, even Dusk. How do you think he was able to survive after all these years? We have to eat, Faye. If we don’t, we die.”
Faye started to follow her but stopped. As she thought it over, she realized Maddy was right. Sucking away the essence from unsuspecting people was part of her new life, a life she hadn’t asked for. It wasn’t easy to accept and fit in with the rest of them. How could they expect her to only after two years? They were much older and had more experience. They had time to adjust while she was just learning how to work with her newfound abilities. And what kind of wraith didn’t enjoy leeching, knowing full well they had to in order to survive? She hated it and the stereotypes that came with being what she was.
“You already did it once. You took too much and the guy became one of us,” Maddy added. “And it felt damn good, didn’t it?”
“So, stop fighting your stupid emotions and do it again.”
“Well, why didn’t you want to kill that boy back at our old home?” Faye asked.
Maddy stopped abruptly. “That was different.”
Faye walked around Maddy and faced her. “Was it because you liked him?”
She folded her arms. “Dusk told you that, didn’t he? As usual, he likes to keep out the important details, make himself look like our leader who can do no wrong. You think he’s squeaky clean, don’t you? You think he has all the answers, but he doesn’t. He’s just as dark and evil as any wraith. We all are.”
Faye felt something sharp jab into her shoulder, followed by a burning sensation. She hadn’t felt that much pain since she’d been turned. She screamed before Maddy took hold of her and whisked her down the street.
They stopped and hid behind a parked car. Faye reached up and gripped her shoulder, finding a wooden stake embedded in her skin. Cold, thick blood oozed from a puncture wound. “What did you do that for?” Her blood was as dark as hematite. Wraith blood usually was.
“Shhh.” Maddy’s eyes revealed confusion and fear. “That wasn’t me, you idiot.”
A tall figure loomed across the street, wearing olive cargo shorts and a black tank top that exposed pale, muscled arms underneath. A belt wrapped around his waist held sharpened stakes of varying sizes, and he held a machete in his left hand and a crossbow in the other. However, it was the oval-shaped black mask covering his face that made Faye melt with slight fear. With narrow, vertical slits across a long slit in place of their mouth, the individual looked more beast than man. She also saw a weird mark, the Roman numeral three etched just between the eyes.
“Hold still.” Maddy grabbed the stake and yanked it from Faye’s shoulder.
The pain was excruciating, but immediately dissipated.
“Who is he?” she whispered to Maddy.
“Whoever he is, he’ll be sorry for attacking us.” She stood from behind the parked car. “Stay here. I’ll take care of this idiot.”
“But why would he throw a stake at—” Faye didn’t get the chance to finish her question as Maddy rushed across the street. Faye immediately thought back to what Carter had said about vampires and vampire hunters, but they didn’t exist. Even if they did, they didn’t hunt wraiths.
She stumbled to her feet and watched as Maddy’s fist whipped at incredible speed at the man. He ducked under her arm, and with the machete, he sliced at her right arm.
She screamed as it fell useless at her side. She leapt backward when the man kicked her in the stomach and sent her backward onto the pavement. He aimed the crossbow at her chest and pulled the trigger.
Sister of Embers & Echoes
My eyes narrowed over the rim of my teacup. My grandmother crossed her legs, matching my glare as she sipped her own tea. In all likelihood, she was holding in a laugh. Bernadette had seen oceans rise and fall, empires crumble to dust, entire civilizations wiped from the face of the earth. As one of the first demons in Hell, nothing short of a full-blown apocalypse was going to phase her.
Especially not my paltry little glare.
Uncrossing my legs, I folded them underneath me, sucking down another sip of my tea as I settled deeper into the overstuffed armchair. I wasn’t a big tea kind of person, but the herbal blend I’d concocted in a fit of nerves last week seemed to be growing on me. I’d been doing a lot of things like that—things that Maria would have done herself if she’d just freaking wake up.
“I’m not setting foot in Aether until Maria wakes up, and that’s final.”
Like that word ever stopped my grandmother. I was pretty sure if she had even a single shred less class, she’d have given the Fates the old double middle-finger salute while telling them to kiss her ass.
That last bit might just be wishful thinking on my part. At least it was amusing to think about.
“It’s been a week, Maxima,” Bernadette chided softly, her voice full of understanding, but her message clear. I couldn’t wait much longer to interrogate Elias. The Fates were running out of patience, and I was running out of time.
“Have they gotten anything out of him at all?” I asked, unable to keep my gaze from shifting from Bernadette to Maria’s closed bedroom door.
I didn’t like being on this side of it. I didn’t like that I wasn’t watching her.
I didn’t like that I couldn’t figure out a way to help.
A week ago, Elias Flynn tried to use my sister as a sacrifice by offering her up to a demon as a host. Bernadette helped me stop him, but Maria still wasn’t awake. The longer her sleep lasted, the more I realized we might not have been as successful as I once thought.
If we were successful at all.
'The Last Starling,' the latest release from C.L. Denault, is basically a coming of age romance in the midst of a coming war between species.
This title is one of those truly baffling pieces of work. Somehow, the reviews I've seen are raving about it, and I'm wondering if we read the same book at all. I mean, the names and events seem to be the same, but our experiences are wholly different.
"I fight the urge to step closer. Damn witchy-woo. It's a double-edged sword, the one reason I can't have her and the very thing that attracts me most."
In case you're wondering what the hell "witchy-woo" is.. my best guess after seeing it's repeated use throughout the novel.. is that it's sort of a combination of the effect a witch's magic has on the senses. Also referred to once as the "witchy vibe" in this story, mostly it seems to be referenced to as a scent and feeling of a witch's 'otherness.' Now, if unlike me.. you can still take this book seriously, just stop reading this review, close your browser, and enjoy the novel.
"I smell Madison's witchy-woo just seconds before her hand touches my arm."
Sure it's not annoying you yet? That's only twice.
Unfortunately, from the get-go.. I couldn't get past that term. To find it being used as a descriptor over and over in a YA title, actually sort of shocked me. I've read Middle Grade books with more evolved vocabulary. I have no idea why the author thinks 18 year old boys would talk like this, in any world.. and frankly, I find it rather condescending to the YA crowd.
Course, she also treats the reader like they're clueless. Denault doesn't so much foreshadow events and reveals, as dangle them boldly beneath brightly lit neon signs, while pretending no one is the wiser. Not the reader.. and certainly not the characters. She does everything but scream plot points at you.. while the characters happily go on about their business blindly.
"Next to bacon, sleep is a werewolfs best friend, and I'm not getting enough. It eludes me at night and then creeps up on me during the day."
Awesome. My next favorite things is bad canine jokes in were-shifter stories. Don't worry, she has plenty of "wet dog" references to go around too.. and she loves to refer to the shift as "wolfing out." Such literary eloquence.
What this story DOES have going for it.. is a lovely cover. Absolutely gorgeous.
No, I kid, there's more. Not much, but some.
There is a really intriguing take on the vampire species. Sure, you have the regular old vitamin-D challenged bloodsuckers, but there's also another type that's able to take animal form to move around in the daylight and ingest normal foods, then they're able to resume their usual cold, undead(?) form when they don't want to use that one.
That's pretty much it though. The battles are kind of silly and a fair amount of the story is told in wolf form talking about licking muzzles and urinating on everything to mark territory. This was a painful read for me and I had to really force myself to finish the book.
Mara Roberts knew the Agency would try to kill her father the day he got out of prison, she just didn’t expect they’d ask her be the one to do it.
Before she received the assignment, she would have bet even money he would survive whatever welcome party the CIA had planned for him. Too bad his odds had migrated down to zero now that the job was hers.
She sat in her rented Range Rover, waves of Oklahoma heat shimmering off the parking lot blacktop, bending the prison chain link fence into wavering lines. Coils of concertina wire topped the walls, razor blade edges glistening in the sun, each loop perfectly spaced. Just like inside the walls of the Cimarron Correctional Facility — orderly but lethal.
Behind the security gate was a low-slung building with a copper overhang at the entrance. More like a school administration office than a prison. The schematics she’d studied revealed the facility extended back into eight separate cell blocks. Each one housed more dangerous criminals than the previous one. She hoped they’d put her dad in the worst of the lot.
The car idled, both for the AC and in case she needed to adjust her plans and leave in a hurry. The few guards she saw moved slow and had dark sweat pits spreading under their arms and on their backs. She pegged them as complacent. Washed up. Bored. Just like she wanted. As she analyzed the prison’s weaknesses, she couldn’t help but wonder whether her dad had changed much since she’d seen him last.
Sure, he was past fifty now and, according to the photos in the briefing, finally starting to show his age. Wrinkles at his eyes. A close scalp shave, the kind favored by men fighting a losing battle with their hairline. He was still in shape, though. Surveillance camera footage showed a recent fist fight he’d had on the yard, started by some con paid off by the Agency. Obviously a new guy. Anyone who’d been there longer than knew not to mess with the quiet guy with the broad shoulders.
The video showed her dad could still throw a punch, but the couple of jabs he took to his face also showed he’d lost a step or two. Yet, the old man still had skills. And she wasn’t about to underestimate her target. Hell, four years on the run and the last two months in prison might have even toughened the bastard up. If that was even possible. She wasn’t sure it was.
A routine face recognition search through the US prison system by a junior analyst had turned him up. As she read the report, it made her laugh that assets all over the world were searching for him, and there he was serving time under an alias for manslaughter. Seems he took exception to a group of five young men roughing up a prostitute. Four of them ended up with broken bones and long hospital stays. The fifth wasn’t going to harass anyone ever again. It was just like her dad to risk blowing his cover to save someone. Typical Boy Scout bullshit.
She’d been raised on stories about him. Even in her macho world of counter-intelligence they seemed outlandish. Insanely risky missions. Many of them unsanctioned. Succeeding against insurmountable odds. Like stuff out of bad action movies, and yet people swore to her the stories were true, that they’d seen him do these things with their own eyes.
But they always whispered about him, as if just talking about the man and his exploits might suck them into the same darkness into which he disappeared.
Still, even with what had happened, she always heard a grudging admiration as they told her about the exploits of the great Scott Francis Roberts, the father she barely knew. The man she was about to kill.
Ryan la Sala's debut novel, 'Reverie,' reads like a dream. Not simply due to the fact large portions of the story take place in the walking fantasies of East Amity's citizens.. born into alternate realities with all the fervor of New Year's Eve fireworks, but because he writes as Van Gogh painted.. in rich strokes and vivid colors, textures you can feel even without being able to touch them.
A love story to the stargazer.. an encouragement to throw off all bonds.. and live boldly and brightly in all things, the novel feels as if its full to bursting with hope. Settle for nothing, fight for what you want.. for what you believe in.. and make sure above all else, that you believe in yourself.
Honestly, I can't say enough good things about 'Reverie.' It's wildly imaginative, the prose is melodious, the characters are each deeply layered. Though it centers around a group of teens, they often feel ageless, as the focus is really on doing what's right.. on persisting.. and learning to see others beyond the surface. The development of the new worlds that periodically just materialize is elegantly scripted. No matter how outrageous the manifested story may seem, there's reason to it. Rhythm.
It's a wonderful story. The comraderie between the main character, Kane, and his friends.. is reminiscent of the greatest coming of age stories of literature and film -- The Goonies, The Outsiders, Stand By Me.. you name it. They fight, they lash out, run or push each other away, yet when all is said and done, they continue to show up for one another. Much of the time is devoted to Kane trying to regain his memory, lost during a horrific accident that leaves him brutally scarred at some point before the opening of the story, as he tries to understand what happened and who he can trust. And this too is fascinating. The mystery is woven almost delicately throughout the daily goings-on of the characters. At times, it almost feels secondary to the sheer experience, but it is not.
Of course, there are pairings within the group, but really only one romance throughout the pages. And it's beautiful. It's tender.. fragile at times.. then warming.. and swelling like a symphony at others. Even more that the resolution of the reveries, this is what I found myself cheering for.. hoping for, invested in. This glimmer of connection that appears, constantly threatening to wink out.
Numerous times I found myself worriedly leaning into the pages or caught off guard when I'd allowed myself to relax, only for some potentially disastrous incident to occur. Sometimes my worst fears seemed to be realized and others, I didn't know enough to worry about the right things.
I didn't want to put this book down once I started it.. and though I was delayed by other deadlines, I was constantly desperate to return to 'Reverie' and see where everything was going to end up. Ryan is a truly gifted writer and I expect great things are ahead yet for him.