Ashes & Ice is out TODAY!
Title: Ashes & Ice
Author: Rochelle Maya Callen
Release Day: February 4th, 2013
Genre: Young Adult
Blitz Host: Lady
Amber's Tours
Synopsis:
She is desperate to remember.
He is aching to forget.
Together, they are not broken.
But together, one may not survive.
Jade wakes up with no memory of her past and blood on her hands.
Plagued by wicked thoughts, she searches for answers. Instead, she finds a boy
who doesn't offer her answers, but hope. But sometimes, when nightmares turn
into reality and death follows you everywhere, hope is not enough.
LUST. LOVE. LOSS. Sometimes, all that is left are Ashes and Ice.
Author Bio:
Rochelle grew up dreaming up stories. When she entered high
school, she tucked away her creative side and jumped head-first into academics,
work, and service projects. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in
Political Science and Communication when she was twenty years old. After years
away from her writing, Rochelle picked up a pen and started fleshing out a
character sketch that she outlined when she was twelve. That sketch was the
start of the Ashes and Ice story. Rochelle lives in the DC metro area with her
husband and daughter. By day she works as a behavioral therapist. By night, she
is a dreamer and is busy tapping out new stories on her keyboard.
Links:
twitter: rockyiswriting
My review for Ashes & Ice can be found here. So, are you guys ready for some excerpts? I am feeling generous so here's two of them!
Excerpt #1
Connor
Tears burn. I never realized it before, but they do. Tears reach down my throat
and settle in my gut until the pain cripples me. I clutch my stomach as I look
into the casket. His face doesn’t even look the same. Bloated like a Mardi Gras
float, discolored like a mannequin. This isn’t my father.
But it is.
If I have learned anything in my short life, it is this: funerals are bullshit.
People dress in carefully pressed black suits. Parents give me “meaningful”
nods as if that could ease the grief. It doesn’t.
Then there are the kids from school, the ones dragged along by their parents.
People drag their kids along as if filling the church was a necessary thing. As
if the more pews filled somehow expedite the dead’s trip to heaven. I doubt it
does. Maybe some of the girls went shopping to buy just the right outfit so
their cleavage to respectability ratio was just right, or their ass to
waist ratio was cinched properly.
People sit in the pews dressed in their finest
let’s-go-pay-our-respects-to-the-dead-guy-we-never-knew wear, smacking the gum
in their mouths, cupping cellphones so they can LOL any comment buzzing
in, and drumming their fingers because the pastor is going on too long.
All they want to do is go home, sneak in a make-out session with their
girlfriends, eat their dinners, and maybe catch a 7 o’clock movie.
I hate these kids. The ones who stare at me, roll their eyes, and yawn. The
ones who trip me at school and slam me into lockers. The ones who sit in a pew,
contributing to the headcount, while I sit up here in front, holding back the
tears fighting to make their appearance. I swallow them down. I won’t cry. Not
here. Not with these people.
Dad’s funeral should be an empty church with mom, his three brothers, and me.
It should be the five of us having a messy, sloppy, sobbing affair where we
cling to each other because we are all we have left. The marble floors should
be slick with our tears. It isn’t. We sit here, straight backed, completely
composed as if death is just a passing expiration date and our small,
insignificant world has not been split open and left gaping.
***
I’m in my room, staring at the ceiling. The funeral service was hours ago.
The house feels empty and cold. I hear a stifled whimper from down the hall.
Mom.
Probably crying into a pillow so the house can’t hear, but it can. It seems
unfair she can’t wail aloud, so loud the house’s hundred-year-old studs
tremble.
She doesn’t. I don’t either. We cry in our own rooms, remembering a man who
will never be here again.
The house creaks. Maybe it feels the weight of our grief, maybe the floorboards
are buckling because the burden is too heavy.
I ache, desperate to forget the long battle with cancer, the blood sputtering
out of his mouth with his last words—what where they? I can’t remember because
the fear in his eyes overshadowed anything he said. Now the loss. I don’t want
to feel this loss. Some divine entity has taken dull scissors and cut out a
piece of my life and now I have jagged scars to remind me I lost too much. Too
much.
I want to forget, because it hurts to remember.
I bury my head in the pillow, hoping to suffocate the memories, to choke out
the pain.
Excerpt #2
“Have you ever been in love?”
I spill my popcorn on my lap. “I, uh, what?” I say, swiping off the kernels.
The question catches me off guard.
“You know, in love.”
“No. No, I haven’t.” I shift on the couch, needing more space between us. “What
about you?”
“Nah.” She flicks her hand toward me as if she is brushing away nonsense, but
the hard look in her eyes says something different.
“Why?”
She points to the TV screen and the couple making out there. “Figured if you
had been, then you could explain that to me.”
The guy sweeps the girl up and carries her into bed before they… you know. “Uh,
sex?”
She bursts out laughing. “That too. But I was talking about what it feels
like to be, you know, in love. Totally, without question. Like, does that,” she
points to the screen again, “exist?”
“Yeah, I think it exists.” I think of mom and dad—the way they kissed every
morning, hugged a few moments longer than anyone else, laughed so hard they
cried, and cuddled, shutting out the world, looking more content than these
fakers on the screen. “It exists. And in real life, it’s better than that
crap.” I say, suddenly uncomfortable by the moaning coming from the TV.
“I thought you said you’ve never been in love?”
“I haven’t. But I’ve seen it. And I haven’t ever seen anything come close to
that in the movies.”
She opens her mouth as if about to ask a question, but then closes it and
smiles, accepting my answer. “Well, it’s good that there may be something in
life to look forward to.” She drops a kernel of popcorn in her mouth.
“May be?”
“Well nothing is guaranteed. Who knows, I may die an old spinster.” She’s
smiling, but her eyes aren’t.
I think about the movie store guy’s possessive eyes, Jesse’s chair fiasco, and
Dominic’s leering, my heart. “I doubt that.”
3 comments:
Everything about Ashes and Ice sounds awesome. And the cover is amazing, one of the best I've seen!
It was really good! I definitely recommend it! :)
Hello! I found your blog via your button on someone elses blog. I followed so I was wondering if you wanted to do a button swap? Your button is on my blog! I hope you can follow back, put my button on your blog and enter my giveaway too!
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