Giveaway and Book Review of Family Magic
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Blurb :
Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being ordinary.
That my mom baked cookies instead of brewing spells. That my dad lived with us,
not on the demon plane. All I ever wanted was to be like everyone else.
I know what you're thinking. You'd die to live in my world. How cool would it
be if magic was real and you could do anything?
You have no idea. Here I am in another new town, but it's the same old thing.
Cheerleader bullies? How original. Friendless again? Who's surprised? I suck at
fitting in. Especially when I'm in the middle of saving my family from total
destruction.
My name is Sydlynn Hayle, and that's my life.
Trade you.
About the Author:
Patti Larsen is an award-winning middle grade and young
adult author with a passion for the paranormal. But that sounds so freaking
formal, doesn't it? I'm a storyteller who hears teenager's voices so loud I
have to write them down. I love sports even though they don't love me. I've
dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows,
singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.
But always, always, writing books calls me home.
I've had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which
means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It's the coolest
thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see
them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.
As for the rest of it, I'm short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and
blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics
and can't seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward
Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches
in the world, with my very patient husband and four massive cats.
Contacts:
BUY NOW LINK:
Giveaway:
Excerpt:
I
lay in bed for a long time, struggling with my thoughts, shying away from
taking the real steps I needed to figure out what my problem was. For some
reason I probably should have been aware of, I didn’t want to know. I wanted
out! Why couldn’t that be enough?
As
I sprawled there torturing myself, I heard my door creak and the soft pad of
little feet. I watched Meira as she picked her way on tiptoe across my floor
and to the end of my bed. She twisted a handful of quilt in her tiny fingers
and peered up at me through her silky black bangs, eyes wide and almost
completely black in the darkness.
“Are you awake?” She whispered.
“Nope,” I answered. “Come back later.”
Meira
giggled. She had the cutest giggle, clean and fresh and genuine. She always
made me feel way younger than I was.
I
giggled back.
Meira
made her way further up the bed, twirling her slender body, her pure white
nightgown flaring out at her ankles as she half-danced, half-tiptoed to me. She
leaned over the bed and touched my forehead with one little finger, face solemn,
eyes glowing in the light from the street outside.
“You are blessed,” she whispered.
I
choked on a snort and started writhing on the bed in mock agony.
“No,
I can’t take it! Please, don’t make me be like you!”
She
crossed her little arms over her chest and smirked at me.
“I’m not that good,” she said.
I
grabbed her and dragged her onto the bed. She squealed, covering her mouth with
both hands, tears brimming with mirth. I tickled her. She shook her head, lips
clenched together, snorting laughter escaping.
“Nasty
little ruggers,” I continued the torture, “say it!”
“No!”
She tried to whisper. It came out a little louder than she intended. We both
laughed, glancing at the partially open door.
“Say
it!” I demanded in a whisper when no one came to shush us. “Say uncle!”
Meira
giggled silently, her red-tinted face even more crimson from the effort of
holding it in. She squiggled and squirmed underneath me, trying to catch her
breath.
“Never,” she hissed.
I
sat up and whacked her with my pillow. She squealed for real this time. She
grabbed one of the decorative throw pillows Mom insisted accompany the stupid
chandelier.
“Cheater!”
She shrieked, smacking me with the satin monstrosity.
I
popped her a good one, sending her tumbling across the bed.
“Brat!” I retorted.
Meira
lunged with her pillow, but missed and ended up on the floor. We both froze at
the heavy thump. I heard quick steps come to the bottom of the stairs.
“You
girls better be in bed,” Mom called up to us.
We giggled.
“If
I have to come up there…” The threat was an empty one. She hadn’t come up to
stop us in years.
Still,
we held silent, as much a part of the game as the rest of it. Finally, Mom’s
footsteps retreated back to the kitchen. Meira gazed up at me from the floor
and laughed.
I
scooped her up and planted her on the bed beside me. She stretched out facing
me. I flipped the covers over us. She snuggled into my neck.
“That was fun,” she said.
“So
I can blame you if Mom decides to come check on us?”
Meira batted her lashes, Miss Innocence. “She’d never believe it
was my fault.”
I
didn’t mean to but with everything that happened in the last few hours, I took
her words personally.
“Right.
Of course. It’s always me screwing up. I forgot.”
I
rolled over onto my back, focused fury settling on the stupid pink chandelier.
I jumped up, stood on the bed and grabbed onto it. I pulled, but nothing
happened. Meira made a noise, something sad and afraid, but I ignored her
completely. Mad, beyond frustrated, I
gave it a good yank. The whole thing let go. I hunched on the bed covered in
pink crystals, stars, wires and a large chunk of ceiling. I’m surprised my mom
didn’t come running, but I guess it wasn’t as noisy as it looked. Dust hovered
everywhere. Meira stared at me, tears pouring over her cheeks.
“Syd,”
she cried. “I’m sorry! Don’t be mad anymore.”
She
covered her little face in her hands and sobbed. The giant heel I turned into
reached out and grabbed her. I pulled her into my lap amid the mess I made and
hugged her hard.
“It’s okay, Meems, it’s okay,” I rocked her and stroked her hair
until she fell quiet. She pushed tears from her cheeks. The fear I saw in her
face made me cringe, even though I knew she was less afraid of me and
more afraid for me.
“Why don’t you love us anymore, Syd?” Meira went limp against me,
her hurt a physical thing that made me want to take everything back.
“It’s not that,” I told her, stroking her hair back from her cute
little horns. “Of course I still love you. What’s not to love, huh?”
She slid her hair over her horns to hide them. “That’s not what
you said before,” she whispered.
I
ran back over the conversation in the basement and winced. Oops.
“Meems…”
She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “You hate us.”
“No I don’t.”
“You think we’re monsters.”
Oh crap. “Meira, look at me.” I forced her face up and stared her
in those huge, demon eyes. “I don’t hate you, okay? Nothing you could ever do
would make me hate you. And I don’t think you’re a monster.”
“I have horns,” she whispered. I flinched. How much damage had I
done to my little sister? How had she gotten into the middle of my battles with
our mother? For the first time I was painfully aware Meira probably suffered
way more than Mom and I. She was going to carry our garbage with her for the
rest of her life if I didn’t do something about it right then and there.
***
Finally the endless day ended. I grabbed my remaining belongings
from my locker, not willing to leave anything behind. I turned into the crowd
to run home and hide under my comforter. Tomorrow was going to be a sick day if
I had to make myself ill.
Didn’t I do it again? Ran right smack into Brad. I almost had a
heart attack. Set up! My little voice screamed as I scanned the crowd
for Alison. What diabolical scheme was this? I backed away from him, feeling
like I’d just dropped out of the fire into the burning pit of hell. Brad
stepped forward, concern on his face, the half-smile in greeting fading fast.
“Syd?” He reached out one hand. “Are you okay?”
I risked another glance around the crowd for the bitch queen. Still
no Alison. Despite her absence, I knew the kids in the hallway watched and
listened with every fiber in their being.
“Yeah, thanks,” I ducked my head and tried to dodge him. He wasn’t
having any. Brad stopped me by grabbing my arm, not hard. The touch alone was enough to make me halt
and look up.
“I seem to keep running into you,” he said, trying to make a joke
of it. “I’m really sorry.”
I blinked, feeling like someone hit me hard. He was sorry? Brad
Peters was blaming himself for my inexcusable clumsiness? Seriously? I allowed
myself to soften and believe it. After a heartbeat, I toughened up.
Definitely a trap.
“Stop being nice,” I snapped, tired and upset and frustrated after
my long day in a very long week, and it was only Tuesday. “I know Alison put
you up to this, so you can stop. I get it, consider me punished.”
Brad shook his head, confused. Could it be true he had no idea? No
one could be that out of touch. The hallway itself vibrated with tension from
me and the other kids in the know.
But nope. He really was clueless. Imagine that.
“I don’t know what Alison told you, Syd,” Brad said, “but she
didn’t put me up to anything. I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” I told him, despite wanting more
than anything for him to keep talking to me. Brad Peters was - talking -
to - me.
“Why not?” His beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners as he
frowned.
“Alison won’t like it,” I said as softly as I could, worried like
in magic, names had power. But nope, no wicked witch appeared. Amazing.
“Alison doesn’t tell me who to talk to,” Brad replied. “I’ve
actually been wanting to say ‘hi’ for a while.”
I stared at him in open shock, not even aware of the world around
me. In that glorious moment, it was just me and him. Any fantasy I imagined on
my own couldn’t compare to this.
“Really?” I hated how my voice squeaked a little. “How come?”
Brad laughed. The whole world shone like heaven when Brad laughed.
“No reason. Is that okay?” His green eyes gave me the most
delicious shivers. It was almost too much for me to comprehend.
“I guess,” I said. “I just find it a little strange.”
“Why?” His turn to be confused.
“No one else seems to want to get to know me.” As soon as I spoke,
I worried I sounded like a whiner. “Small town, hard to meet people, you know?”
He ran one hand through his glossy blonde hair. My insides
trembled as my knees went soft.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said. “It must be tough. I grew up here,
guess it’s way easier for me.”
“I guess,” I breathed, clinging to the brief instant in time that
I, Syd Hayle, was talking to the most popular boy in school because he wanted
to say hello. I knew I’d be replaying it over and over when I made it home.
“So maybe we can go get a pizza or something sometime,” Brad said.
And the blessed angels sang Hallelujah. If it kept up much longer,
I would need him to hold me up. Which meant he would have to—sigh—touch
me and I didn’t know if I would survive it.
In the heartbeat I thought the idea could even possibly come true,
reality struck.
Alison finally arrived. I thought I was toast before. The
expression on her face could have killed a bird in flight. I spotted her over
Brad’s shoulder. I guess my flinching at the thought of what she had planned
next must have alerted him something was wrong. By the time he turned around,
Alison morphed herself from a she-bitch from hell to perky cheerleader.
“Brad,” Alison slipped one possessive hand through his arm,
linking the other over it, a clear and powerful sign of ownership from one girl
to another. “I was waiting for you at my locker but you didn’t come.” She
formed her perfect bow mouth into an expert pout and gazed up at him through
her fluttering eyelashes. I knew she’d been practicing that one in front
of the mirror since birth.
“Alison,” Brad looked away from her, actually looked away, and
back to me. “I’m talking to Syd.”
Part of me wanted to die because Brad cemented my fate. The other
part wanted to die because Brad wanted to have pizza with me. I couldn’t tell
which was worse.
***
There was a certain presence to my father, a weight, a physical
feeling to being around him that always made me uncomfortable, especially when
the door first opened. I hated to admit it, but I think it made me feel that
way because I was afraid it could be me someday traveling between worlds.
Haralthazar took the time to look over us. His chiseled face
creased in a soft smile, gentle even, welcoming. Hard to believe, but true. My
dad was a nice demon. Forget the whole pit of burning despair thing. Demons
simply come from another plane, a different realm of existence. There are good
guys and bad guys like here on Earth. Lucky for us, when my Mom decided to go
unconventional after the attack leaving her own mother crippled, she fell in
love with Dad.
He
raised one arm over Mom. She stiffened as the energy rippled out of her in
visible strings of light, flowing over the pentagram and back into each of us.
I flinched as the thread hit me, out of breath and more than a little dizzy.
Dad always gave back more than he took, at least to me.
“My love, well met.” He bent and took my mother’s hand, helping
her to her feet. “Miriam, rise and stand with me.”
She took her place beside him. Emotion swirled between them. Dad
beamed at us.
“I
am well pleased, my friends,” he said. “Our coven grows and is strong. I offer
power to the bond and love and protection to you all.”
“Our thanks to you,” the crowd murmured, my voice joining slightly
late.
He
turned to me.
“Sydlynn Hayle,” he held out one hand, “come to your father.”
This part always made me feel like I was being dissected by all
the eyes staring into my back. I despised being the center of attention. There
was a definite slouch in my stance as I climbed to my feet and dragged myself
unhappily to my parents.
“The first gift of our joining, welcome and my thanks for the
sharing of power. With you, our light grows.”
“You
bet.” My father frowned for an instant, enough to make me feel like a spoiled
rotten little kid. How did he do that? I was happily cynical with my mother but
Dad could reduce me to a child with one raised eyebrow. I guess he was mostly a
great father and a really good guy and I hated disappointing him.
I drew a breath and tried harder.
“My light to you,” I said, louder.
He smiled secretly. I smiled back as he bent over me and touched
his lips to my forehead.
“Hi, cupcake,” he whispered through the official kiss. “How’s
soccer going?”
Seriously.
Cupcake. “Fine, thanks,” I whispered back. “And you can stop calling me that.”
He grinned pure evil.
“Whatever
you say. Cupcake.”
Ooh. Dads.
“Don’t piss off your mother,” he said.
“Doing my best.” I rolled my eyes.
Dad straightened up and addressed the group.
“This
is my child, truly born, a member of this coven. Who speaks against her?”
In the silence that followed, I half-heartedly hoped someone would
kick me out.
“All is well,” he said. “Our love to you, Sydlynn Hayle.”
I made a face at him for the whole stupid thing.
“Thanks,” I said. Dad dropped a small wink as I stepped back.
“Meira Hayle, come forward.”
My sister stepped up eagerly. I heard her soft giggle as our
father repeated the kiss he gave me. I’d ask her later what he said to make her
laugh. Not that I’d ever admit it, but we didn’t get to see our father all that
often and I was a bit jealous of her time spent with him.
Dad straightened over her.
“This is my child, truly born, and a member of this coven. Who
speaks against her?”
Meira must have said something cute because our dad struggled not
to laugh in the silence.
“All is well,” he repeated. “Our love to you, Meira Hayle.”
Meira stepped back, her little hand slipping into mine. She
grinned up at me as the ceremony continued.
I tried not to laugh when Gram, up next, planted a wet, sticky one
on him. He had the good nature to hug her back and smile at her with real
warmth and love. She tottered back to us, so pleased with herself she wriggled
like a little girl.
I struggled with a case of the fidgets as the validation process
continued but couldn’t help the impatient shift from sneaker to sneaker making
its way through my defenses. Witch after witch, male and female alike,
professed their undying love and loyalty to our family, etcetera, and so on, ad
nausem. It took forever. And to think we had to go through this twice a year.
According to Mom, with the dying of the summer at Samhain and its rebirth at
Beltane, the connection between our plane and Dad’s was closest. It made the
bonding easier and more powerful.
Blah, blah, blah.
The
only problem? It was the epitome of boring. Besides, I had homework to do. I
could hardly explain to my science teacher I didn’t get my chemistry done
because I was helping my coven renew its bond with my demon father. Who knew?
Maybe Mr. Sinclair would give me a better mark if he thought I packed that kind
of firepower.
Review:
Do you remember being in High School? Do you remember, or were you, the kid that
just didn’t quite fit in? Or maybe the
one that tried to fit in just a little too hard? That would be Meira. She just wants to be normal, a little difficult
for the child of a witch and demon. If
that wasn’t enough, she finds out that she can’t give up her powers in 2 years,
at age 18, like she planned. Turns out
her powers may be a little stronger that initially thought. This could be a problem for Meira, who spent
the last 16 years trying her best to avoid magic.
If that’s not enough of a problem for a teenage
girl, someone is trying to kill members of her coven, including her
family. Meira may have to learn what
being a leader means a little sooner than planned.
This is a delightful novel about the angst of
growing up just a little different than everyone else. The story is charming and the underlying idea
that you need to accept yourself for who you are is wonderful.
I give this book 4 out of 5 clouds, and look forward
to book 2.
This
product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
opinions or reviews.
Book
Review of Swan
Story
Soon to be married Daniel Macgregor
meets mysterious beauty Sarah Mitchell on the day his father gives him a ballet
company as a present. Although at first reluctant to take responsibility, he
changes his mind when he realizes Sarah dances for the same company. Over the
course of the production of "Swan Lake" they fall head over heels in
love. Unknown to Daniel, Sarah is cursed to turn into a swan from sunset to
sunrise and only true love will break the spell. So it makes Sarah wonder, what
will happen when he finds out what she is.
Book Excerpts
