Carries Book Reviews

Romeo and What’s Her Name
Shani Petroff
Published by: Swoon Reads
Publication date: February 7th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult

Understudies never get to perform

. . . which is why being Juliet’s understudy in the school’s yearly “Evening with Shakespeare” is the perfect role for Emily. She can earn some much-needed extra credit while pursuing her main goal of spending time with Wes, aka Romeo, aka the hottest, nicest guy in school (in her completely unbiased opinion). And she meant to learn her lines, really, it’s just:

a) Shakespeare is HARD,

b) Amanda, aka the “real” Juliet, makes her run errands instead of lines, and

c) there’s no point because Amanda would never miss the chance to be the star of the show.

Then, Amanda ends up in the hospital and Emily, as the (completely unprepared!) understudy, has to star opposite the guy of her dreams. Oops?

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EXCERPT:

I stood there like a lump, waiting for my line. Finally, I turned toward Kayla and repeated, “I said, LOUDER-ETH.”

She fed me the line again. Supercrazy loud this time. “I would not for the world.”

It was so loud, the crowd heard it and started to laugh. Not the snickers from before, but those evil, full belly laughs people get when watching home videos of someone

getting kicked in the groin. Wes was going to hate me for putting him through this. This torture needed to end.

“Methinks,” I said, “I could use-eth a book-eth.” Come on, Kayla. Take the hint. “You know-eth. A BOOK-ETH where-est I can recite-eth beauteous words to thee . . . thou . . . whatever. I NEED THE BOOK-ETH.”

As I was shouting that last book-eth, I got my wish. The script came sailing from off stage left and hit me in the back of the head. “Ow,” I unintentionally yelled, to the delight of the crowd. It weighed a ton.

“Sorry,” Kayla whispered. “My bad.”

I didn’t care. I’d get over the pain faster than the embarrassment I was suffering. I was just happy to have the script. At least I was until I realized Kayla hadn’t bookmarked the page I needed. It was the complete works of Shakespeare. There was no way I would find the right page. Not to mention that since the book was with me, Kayla couldn’t even feed me lines anymore. R&J wasn’t a tragedy. My life was.

I was so flunking English.

“Would thou like some help, my sweet Juliet?”

Did Wes just call me sweet? I swung around to face him, but I wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping and my foot went right off the balcony. Wes lunged forward to catch me, but why would anything go right for me? So instead of Wes stopping me from hitting the floor, I took him down with me.

I was lying on top of Wes Rosenthal. Only, this was not like any of my daydreams. This was mortifying. I rolled off him and jumped up. “Are you okay?” I was visibly shaking.

Wes stood up, too. “Don’t worry-eth, Juliet,” he said without any anger in his voice. He even smiled at me. For a second I thought that meant he didn’t hate me for the craziness I was causing. But then I remembered he was acting. He actually took what he was doing seriously, and right now his part called for him to be in love with Juliet.

Wes said some line I assumed was to get us back on track. But I had no response. I couldn’t take it anymore. The laughter of the audience. The panic coursing through my body. The thought of making Wes suffer more. It needed to end.

So I did the only thing I could think of—something super Elizabethan. I put the back of my and to my forehead, pretended to swoon, and let my whole body fall back to the ground with a loud thump.

“I am so sorry-eth, Romeo.”

“It’s okay.” He sat down on the ground next to me and took my hand. I felt little sparks fly through me.

I shook my head. I couldn’t let him go through this anymore. “No, I know how-eth this play end-eth. I think I shall stab-eth myself now to save-eth us both.”

“Finally,” someone in the audience yelled out.

I picked up an imaginary dagger and began to plunge it into my heart.

“No,” Wes said, stopping me before I committed imaginary suicide. “Our story is not over yet. So let’s just say, ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night ‘til it be morrow.’”

I was pretty sure that was supposed to be my line. But I decided I probably shouldn’t point that out. Then he stood up and walked off the stage.

After a moment, someone finally took mercy on me and brought the stage lights down.

The scene was over. But I knew all too well that my embarrassment was just beginning.

Author Bio:

Shani Petroff is a writer living in New York City. She’s the author of the “Bedeviled” series, which includes Daddy’s Little Angel, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Dress, Careful What You Wish For, and Love Struck, and is the co-author of the “Destined” series which includes Ash and Ultraviolet. She also writes for television news programs and several other venues. When she’s not locked in her apartment typing away, she spends a whole lot of time on books, boys, TV, daydreaming, and shopping online.

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Trapped in Wonderland by Dani Hoots
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Meredith Hughes had never liked her first name and prefers to go by her middle name, Alice. One day at school Alice follows some fellow students into a locker and finds herself falling into the land in Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. But the others give Alice a potion to make her forget her brief journey and return her home.

With everything back to normal for Alice things seem to be going fine until the White Rabbit shows up in her world and tries to kill her and Alice finds herself back in Wonderland. Apparently according to a prophecy Alice is the only one that can save Wonderland from a group, the Cirque de Rêves, that is trying to destroy and takeover the world.

Anyone that has followed my reviews knows that I’m a sucker for any retellings or retakes on the original stories such as Alice in Wonderland. I picked this one up hoping to get quickly involved in a new take on an old favorite but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

The story in Trapped in Wonderland started off alright enough but for this reader I just found that it didn’t take too long into the book for the pace to just completely slow down and lose my interest. Now while the idea of this new Alice heading to Wonderland intrigued me to begin with I just found myself not really connecting with her or her journey.

Overall, some good ideas within but just wasn’t really for me as it seemed to just be too slow paced and not enough new and exciting to draw my attention.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

Memortality
Stephen H. Provost
Publication date: February 1st 2017
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal

Minerva Rus can raise the dead. And it might get her killed.

Minerva’s life has never been the same since the childhood car accident that paralyzed her and killed her best friend, Raven. But when the long-dead Raven reappears in her life, now as a very attractive grown man, she discovers that her photographic memory has the power to bring the dead back to life … heal her paralysis … and shape reality itself.

Pursued by a rogue government agent who wants to eliminate her and her talents, Minerva must learn to control her powers to save herself and Raven. Because if she dies, he dies as well―again.

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EXCERPT:

Minerva (2016)

“The accident is a lie.”

“What do you mean? You keep saying that.”

The face staring back at her was the same one she remembered from all those years ago. Kind, caring, patient. But older now. The playful smile the boy had once worn had vanished behind a mask she couldn’t seem to penetrate now that he was a man. She hadn’t seen him for years, but this was how she’d always imagined he’d look all grown up: the soft brown eyes, the pale complexion just brushed by a touch of

sunshine, the auburn hair unkempt and uncut, cascading down across his left eye. She’d always stared at that; it distracted her. And he’d always noticed, brushing it back the moment she became aware of it.

His brow lowered slightly, as if to say, “You’re staring.” But he said nothing. Even the words he did speak seemed silent to her somehow, as if she were in a dream …

She moaned in her sleep and tried to turn her body, but the vice grip held her, the paralysis that had been with her since the accident.

In her dream, concern flitted across his face, apparent even in the dim glow of the candle that burned beside her bed. Its light had always comforted her, and at times, she’d stared into the flame as it flickered for moments on end, imagining she was a part of it. The thought of that soothed her, one of the few things in this world that did.

“Stay with me,” he said, his tone resolute.

“I can’t move,” she protested.

“Yes, you can. All you have to do is remember how you felt before all this. Before the accident and the lies it’s telling you.”

“You’re the liar,” she whispered, her voice whispered venom.

He looked hurt now, and pulled away from her, that resolve appearing to evaporate at the sound of her voice. In the same moment, he seemed farther away, the reflected candlelight that had danced in his eyes a few moments earlier now a fading glow that illumined little more than his forehead and the tip of his nose.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said, but she could barely hear him. A part of her wanted to believe what he was saying. Not a part – all of her. But in the instant she acknowledged that desire, she was aware it could not be.

She tried to turn her body again.

Nothing.

Her jaw clenched tight, and she began to tremble with the effort.

“Not that way,” he said.

“Then … how!” Her voice was louder than she intended, and he pulled away further into the shadows.

“Wait,” she said, softening her tone. “Don’t go. You have to tell me … about the accident.”

“It’s not important now,” he said, moving forward slightly again, into the candlelight.

“Not important? Then how do you explain this?” She nearly spat the words at him, and he averted his eyes.

“See?” she said. “You can’t even bear to look at me. If the accident didn’t happen, how did I get like this?

He sat up straighter and held her gaze again, his eyes locking on hers so that, this time, it was she who wished to glance away. But he held her there by force of will. “Min, you’re beautiful.”

No one ever called her that but him.

Author Bio:

Stephen H. Provost is an author of paranormal adventures and historical non-fiction. “Memortality,” his debut title on Linden Publishing’s new fiction imprint, Pace Press, is due out in February 2017 and is available for pre-order on Amazon.

An editor and columnist with more than 30 years of experience as a journalist, he has written on subjects as diverse as history, religion, politics and language and has served as an editor for fiction and non-fiction projects. His book “Fresno Growing Up,” a history of Fresno, California, during the postwar years, is available on Craven Street Books, and his next non-fiction work, scheduled for release in June of 2017, will examine the history of U.S. Highway 99 in California.

In addition, the author has published several books as Stifyn Emrys, beginning in 2012 with “The Gospel of the Phoenix” and also including the nonfiction works “The Way of the Phoenix” and “Undefeated.” He also has published three works of fiction: “Feathercap” (children’s); “Identity Break,” (young adult science fiction/adventure) and an accompanying novella, “Artifice.”

The author served as editor of four young adult novels: the “Mad World” series by Samaire Provost – “EPIDEMIC,” “SANCTUARY” and “DESPERATION” – and the award-winning “Lorehnin: A Novel of the Otherworld,” Volume 6 in the Otherworld series by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson. He has worked in journalism as a news editor, sports editor and reporter for four daily newspapers in California, and is currently managing editor for an award-winning weekly, The Cambrian. He has worked as an educator and has been featured at occasional speaking engagements.

He lives on the California coast with his wife, stepson, cats (Tyrion Fluffybutt and Allie Twinkletail) and dogs.

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Something Like Voodoo
Rebecca Hamilton
Publication date: February 7th 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

From New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton

High School can be a witch.

A teen girl with the ability to predict deaths through her drawings shouldn’t need to lie constantly to make her life sound interesting. But that doesn’t stop Emily from spinning stories faster than she can keep up.

After transferring to a new school, Emily’s ‘dull’ life is shaken by the appearance of a boy who seems unfazed by her far-fetched stories. A too-handsome-for-his-own-good senior, Noah has some secrets of his own. He needs Emily’s special gift to save him from Sarah, queen bee of the school’s It Girls, whose own supernatural abilities have forced him into a life of silence and solitude.

But when Emily tries to free him from Sarah’s voodoo curse, things go belly up, landing Emily on Sarah’s hit list. Soon, Emily and Noah are on a collision course with the It Girls, leading to a shocking revelation that ties them together in unimaginable ways. If their powers remain unchecked, this teenage popularity contest could spell the death of them all …

Romantically charged and eerily chilling, Something Like Voodoo weighs the choice of saving your life versus fighting for a life worth saving. This paranormal romance will put a spell on you.

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EXCERPT:

Boots crunching the snow, I slung my backpack over my shoulder. When I shut my car door with a little too much force, I cringed, but a slow breath resettled my nerves. Kind of. Then I focused only on the school’s main entrance. Get from here to there. That was all I had to do. Tell some lady or some man at some desk who I was and pick up my class schedule.

Halfway there now.

Someone shouted, “Hey,” as I walked into a solid mass.

“Ow.” I grabbed my shoulder and checked for what caused the damage.

Apparently that mass was a person.

“Watch where you’re going,” the person said.

I looked up. Goosebumps prickled up my arms and neck. Staring back at me was a boy with the most intense cerulean eyes, framed by the darkest lashes. So much for avoiding eye contact.

“I’m, uh, wow. Sorry.” I scurried past him but he gripped my arm, spinning me back again. “Whoa!” I cried out. “Listen, I said—”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’re new here?”

Being new was the worst thing to be in high school. “Um, no,” I lied. “I just skip classes a lot.”

He laughed, the anger lines that creased his forehead dissipating. “You’re that Bishop girl,” he said with a little too much fascination. Guess my reputation preceded me. “Come on, brat. I’ll show you to the office.”

Brat? I shook it off. I heard him wrong. I mean, that would be pretty rude, right? He seemed like he wanted to help me, even though I’d totally crashed into him.

As we walked, I made an extra effort not to look at him. Not in the eyes, anyway. It was impossible not to see some of him from the corner of my vision. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, but I bit back the urge to ask if he was cold. If he were, he would’ve worn something warmer. So I kept my mouth shut and stared at his calf muscles as he led me through the front doors into the large open hall.

With such an athletic build, I bet he had some cheerleader girlfriend who would flip out if she saw him talking to me. I’d been here all of ten minutes and already I was making enemies.

This school year was going to be awesome.

Author Bio:

Rebecca Hamilton writes Paranormal Fantasy, Horror, and Literary Fiction. She lives in Florida with her husband and four kids, along with multiple writing personalities that range from morbid to literary. Having a child diagnosed with autism has inspired her to illuminate the world through the eyes of characters who see things differently.

Rebecca Hamilton is represented by the ever-more-amazing Rossano Trentin of TZLA.

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Discern – an award-winning and bestselling urban fantasy novel by Andrea Pearson

Nicole put her things down, not wanting anything to be in her hands when she picked up the disgusting book. She reached for it, but hesitated. Already, she could sense warmth coming from the leather cover, and she wasn’t even touching it. Its magical pulses were different from the other items—they seemed to drip off the book like sweat.

Nicole hesitated, but wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if something bad would happen, right? She took a deep breath and placed her hands on the book. It shivered under her touch and she cringed, pulling back. The sensation of warm leather made her flesh crawl, and she rubbed her hands and arms on her jeans, trying to get the feeling to go away.

Come on, Nicole. Don’t wimp out.

Without letting herself think about it, she picked up the book and lifted the cover.

A wind rushed over her, blowing her hair back, roaring in her ears. She caught a brief whiff of tobacco smoke before the surge of air reversed and sucked the breath out of her lungs, making her gasp.

The floor under her quaked. The book vibrated. The leather on the cover moved, muscles beneath it flexing. Nicole tried to drop the book, but couldn’t. She was unable to control her hands or fingers. They clenched so tightly, they ached. A shadow covered the pages of the book, preventing her from reading.

What was going on? She gasped again, trying to breathe against the strong wind. She felt someone touch her shoulder, but she couldn’t move. Her fingers still clung to the book. The shadow on the pages shifted, roiled, and turned toward her, the brief outline of a face visible. It watched her for several moments.

Nicole . . .

The voice was soft, deep. A strange yearning inside her made her want to read the book, to understand. To join the owner of the voice, though she didn’t know where or what he was.

The wind slowed to a gentle and familiar caress across her cheek. Familiar?

Then suddenly, it all stopped. The book fell from her hands and slammed itself shut. She backed away, her arms, legs—everything—shaking.

“What happened?” Professor Coolidge asked next to her, making her jump.

“I—I don’t know.” Nicole tried to smooth her hair, but her hands shook too much. She tucked them under her arms. “It said my name . . . and there was a shadow. In-inside it.”

Coolidge lifted the leather book. His mouth popped open in surprise. “You’ve activated a force within it—something alive.” He looked at her, fear and worry on his face. “How did you do that?”

Nicole shook her head. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

Professor Coolidge put the book back on the table. “I’m not sure what to say, other than the book is much more powerful than it used to be.” He peered at her, scrutinizing her. “And I’d love to know why it called to you, why you woke it up, when so many others have not.”