Blog Tour and Giveaway: Daughter of the Fallen by: Madeline Wynn
Title:
Daughter of the Fallen
Author: Madeline Wynn
Publisher: Book Baby
Pages: 250
Genre: YA paranormal
Format: Paperback
Author: Madeline Wynn
Publisher: Book Baby
Pages: 250
Genre: YA paranormal
Format: Paperback
Purchase
at AMAZON
Most
sixteen-year olds aren't worried about the fate of their immortal
souls. May Krieg should be.
Typically,
honor student May's biggest problems have revolved around her
super-hot arch-rival, Jack. But when a school project takes them
ghost-hunting in a local cemetery, she discovers that an ominous
force roams in the darkness around her.
And
it follows her home.
It
claws its way into her life, burning messages into her wall and
imprinting them onto her body. Even worse, she can't tell if it's
trying to possess her... or protect her.
May's
thoughts soon become actions, causing the target of her anger severe
physical pain and giving her a rush the likes of which she has never
experienced. She quickly realizes that she needs to find a way to
reign in this power before she kills someone. May hates the pleasure
it gives her, hates herself for hurting others, but she can't stop.
As
her entire world shatters around her, she is forced to ask what her
soul is worth-- and who would she risk losing her soul to save?
Book
Excerpt:
This
is New England. And in New England, a town without a good witch
hanging or ghost story just, well, isn’t considered to be a real
town. So when I walk past the iron gate of the cemetery and feel the
urge to bolt riding up my legs like a herd of football players
bum-rushing the food counter on taco day, I set my shoulders and do
my best to cowboy up.
Set
between imposing stone walls and punctured by large granite fists,
Hillside Cemetery definitely looks like it deserves its sinister
reputation, making my attempt at bravery rather brief. “This place
sucks. Maybe we should just go.”
“Here,
watch your step,” Cay says and holds out his hand to help me over
the uneven cobbles just on the other side of the entry. Once we make
it over the stones, he drops my hand and pulls the recording
equipment out of the duffle.
We’ve
been friends ever since kindergarten, when some boy taunted me for
living in a “little troll house.” Cay, the kickball king, told
him that it was actually a gingerbread
house, and everybody knows that only fairy princesses live in
gingerbread houses.
He
was wrong, of course; it was witches who lived in the gingerbread
houses, a fact I pointed out to him later, but I gave him props for
the effort. We’ve been “Cay and May” ever since, but the whole
dating thing still feels… awkward.
“Is
this all from school or is Jack bringing some of his dad’s?” I
swipe an errant curl of hair out of my face and cringe at my
surroundings as I reach for the big videocamera. Why does it have to
be so dark? Why can’t people ghost hunt in the daylight? You can
still supposed get sound bites and whatever in the daytime, right?
It’s not like ghosts go anywhere or sleep or, you know, whatever.
“Well,
the big stuff is the professional gear with night vision from school.
And then we have my stuff.” Cay stops in front of a wide tomb,
laying his multiple cameras and his mini video recorder along the top
like they are the most precious things in the world. “Weird that
Mr. Dowd put both you and Jack on my team.”
“Yeah, weird.” And a nightmare. If it wasn’t for Jack, I’d
be ranked first in our year, and, unlike Jack, if I don’t earn a
ton of scholarship money for college, then I can’t go.
Cay
fumbles with the equipment, his breath rising in great grey puffs of
frost, lingering in his dark bob of curls. I shiver.
A
BMW pulls up in front of the entry gate, looking sleek and new and
out of place.
I
run an unsteady hand through my untamable hair…right…Jack.
He
gets out of the car and strides towards us, stepping out into the
camera’s lights: short blond hair, high cheekbones, and a long neck
leading to strong shoulders. Everyone at school, except for me, that
is, adores
him because he’s rich, intelligent and supposedly lost his
virginity to a Victoria’s Secret model.
Watching
the god-like way he strides across the cemetery, you can almost
believe the hype. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as he nods a
greeting. My heart flips.
Of
course, it would be easier to dislike him if he wasn’t so damn…
hot. I shake my head. I hate that about him, too.
“You’re
late.” I grab the sound gear from Cay and hand it to him, eyeing
the orange-clad harpy of a girl trailing after him.
“I
had to pick up Alicia.” He indicates the
thing
as he straps on the professional sound gear. “And respond to your
post on the AP History board about gun control.”
I
huff. “You think we should arm everyone with a credit card?”
“What
I think is irrelevant, Mason.” Jack’s the only one in the
universe who calls me by my full name. “It’s what the Founding
Fathers wanted that matters.” He holds out his hand to help me
navigate my way over a broken tomb. I ignore it. He smirks, “Or
do you not support the Bill Of Rights?”
God,
please keep me from throttling him tonight. Cay clears his throat.
“WTF,
losers? A graveyard?” Alicia Impestio. Wearing her designer hoodie
unzipped so that she reveals way more skin than she has to, her
straight brown hair is bleached at the tips and held off of her
over-tanned face by some rhinestone-studded catastrophe. I grit my
teeth.
“Hey
Alicia, glad you could make it.” Cay holds the minicam out towards
her and helps her onto the cobbled path of the graveyard.
“Whatever.”
Alicia grabs the mini and swats at Cay’s hand as she struggles to
gain a foothold. A challenging endeavor, I’m sure, for someone
wearing flip-flops in November.
She
gives me the once-over, lips curling.
“You
really wore that?” She asks, mouth open with disdain.
“Alicia…”
Jack’s voice is low, menacing.
“I
mean” –she gives me the once-over and sneers- “Aren’t the
Kardashians some of you people? They at least know how to dress.
But, then again, they also know who their daddy is.”
That’s
Alicia: hitting where it hurts. I blink through the stinging at my
eyes as my mind races to find something snarky to say...something to…
“Alicia,”
Jack snaps. “Stop.”
“Fine,
but tell Clay Aiken over there to hurry it. I’m cold.”
Jack
makes a motion with his head to indicate that Cay should ignore her
as he adjusts the weight of the portable boom on his back.
“Okay,
I’m filming.” I say and catch the low-hanging harvest moon
before panning down to Cay. “In three, two, one…”
“This
is Cayden Robison of Chase Hills High Broadcasting reporting on site
at Hillside Cemetery. In 1734, three witches were reportedly hung
just up the road, on the town green and buried, here, in this
cemetery, in unmarked graves.”
“Then,
in 1864, three men were arrested for grave digging, and ever since,
people have reported strange things not only here, but especially out
behind the burial grounds, in the woods.” Cay runs his hand along
the top of a worn tombstone.
“Reports
of paranormal activity really began to pick up in the past thirty
years.” He pauses, and I pan the camera over to the creepy oak and
the broken bench beneath it, hands a little unsteady. “Some people
claim to hear voices, others see full-body apparitions, but most
convincingly, in the 1980s, some kids back here partying say that
they found satanists performing rituals in the woods. They watched
as the group made a make-shift temple of one of the half-buried
barite mines in the woods, and claim that the men actually raised a
demon.”
He
stops, looking intently into the lens of my camera. I flex my
fingers, my breath rushed, like I’ve been running.
“Tonight,
we’re going to dig for the truth and see if Hillside Cemetery is
actually haunted.” Cays smiles.
Deep
breath, May. It’s just a story. Fairytales. There’s no such
thing as demons, or ghosts.
Madeline
Wynn holds a master's degree in procrastination. When she's not
writing, she can be found ghost hunting, gardening and parading
around her home state of Connecticut with her husband, dog and two
kids.
For
More Information
GIVEAWAY
Madeline Wynn is giving away a $50 Amazon Gift Card!
Terms
& Conditions:
- By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
- One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter.
- This giveaway begins November 3 and ends January 31.
- Winner will be contacted via email on Monday, February 2.
- Winner has 48 hours to reply.
Good
luck everyone!
ENTER TO WIN!
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hosting!
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Contact:
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Thompson
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Up Your Book
P.O.
Box 643
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Island, Virginia 23336
Email:
thewriterslife@gmail.com
Thank you so much for having me on the blog!
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