For the last week, I have been stuck in my new-found, bestest ever app” Songza. There are tons of playlists with quirky names. They contain songs I’ve heard, lots I haven’t, and a few that I wish I could bleach out of my memory (like a scary rap remix of Tony Orlando’s Tie a Yellow Ribbon. I just can’t unhear that one now.) If you don’t have this app, you need to find a way to get it. It’s totally worth it! (And it’s free!) My fave playlists so far are Night Bus, In An LES Dive Bar, Rooftop Indie Rock, and The Auteur’s Soundtrack Mix.

I have heard a couple of neat tunes while watching TV or listening to the radio recently, too, so here’s my list for this week:

This first one was linked to me by Mel. It was featured on the show Girls (which I’ve yet to check out), but has been making the rounds on the radio also. It’s I Love It by Icona Pop (warning: some explicit lyrics):

My next pick for the week I’ve heard a few times in a plus-sized lingerie ad. I like it when the source is less than traditional. It’s Showstopper by Brandon and Leah. I like it’s funky, sexy beat

For the last song, I’m going with something a little more organic…and Canadian I love Dallas Green in all of his incarnations so this is something new from his City and Colour project, called Thirst:

What have you been listening to? Do you have any playlists for Songza? I’d love to hear!

Here are a couple of songs that continue to tickle my fancy, even though I’ve played some of them again and again.

Damini by Ubiquitous Synergy Seekers (USS) – this one has a peppy beat but a sad bunch of lyrics. Still, I love it very much (it’s the emo in me, despite appearances.)

Little Numbers by BOY - This was a freebie on iTunes, which can be total hit or miss, I think this one was a hit, but would love to hear other opinions

The Big Bang by Rock Mafia – I found this in a Miley Cyrus movie of all things. The movie was…well, not great, but this song left an impression. You gotta love a song that starts with a good whistling intro though, right?

First up, the YA Spec Fiction reading challenge. I was big on the YA titles in 2011, so I figured this one would be a breeze. Turns out, not so much. I have some great books here, I’m sure, but I got a bit disillusioned with the younger titles and focused most of my reading time on more adult titles, particularly in the romance category.

Here’s my (incredibly) small list for this challenge:

1- Black Heart by Holly Black
2- Everneath by Brodi Ashton

I’m happy to say, they were both great books but that marks the end of that section ;p

For the A to Z one, I may have had enough reads in 2012 to do the alphabet twice over had I been paying attention to the titles I was reading, but I didn’t. As I type up this post, it’ll be my first look at what I actually managed. I’ll bet there’s lots of repetitive letter in there

Anyway, here goes:

A: —-
B: Beautiful Bastard by Christina Lauren
Breakfast in Bed by Robin Kaye
Blood Rites by Jim Butcher
Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire
Bared to You by Sylvia Day
Black Heart by Holly Black
Blood and Bullets by James R. Tuck
The Beggar’s Opera by Peggy Blair
C: Chasing Magic by Stacia Kane
Chairman of the Whored by Lucy V. Morgan
D: Dead Beat by Jim Butcher
The Dead I Know by Scot Gardner
Dead to You by Lisa McMann
E: Everneath by Brodi Ashton
Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke’s Heart by Sarah MacLean
F: Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James
Fifty Shades Darker by E.L. James
G: Grave Memory by Kalayna Price
Grave Witch by Kalayna Price
H: The House of Silk: A Sherlock Holmes Novel by Anthony Horowitz
I: In Rides Trouble by Julie Ann Walker
Improper Relations by Juliana Ross
J: Just for Fun by Erin Nicholas
K: The Kingmaker’s Daughter by Philippa Gregory
L: —-
M: The Marriage Trap by Jennifer Probst
The Marriage Bargain by Jennifer Probst
Midnight’s Master by Donna Grant
N: Night’s Darkest Embrace by Jeaniene Frost
A Night of Southern Comfort by Robin Covington
O: On Dublin Street by Samantha Young
On the Island by Tracey Garvis-Graves
The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh by Ros Clarke
P: —-
Q: —-
R: —-
S: Start Me Up by Victoria Dahl
Sacrificial Magic by Stacia Kane
The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith
The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt
T: Try Me by Diane Alberts
Talk Me Down by Victoria Dahl
True Connections by Clarissa Yip
Table for One by Ros Clarke
U: —-
V: Vanity Fare by Megan Caldwell
W: Wicked as They Come by Delilah S. Dawson
World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
Y: —-
Z: —-

Okay, so I did better than I was expecting but with only 8 letter not spoken for, I could’ve hit this one out of the park! I managed the Alphabet Soup category in this challenge, though, so I’ll totally take it! As for my reviews of these books, well, they’re kind of all over the place or not yet written. (I’ll try to get back to link up the ones that are done.)

I think this is a neat way to maybe find some new titles based solely on the fact that it starts with a certain letter. I might try to keep track of my 2013 reads this way too, see if I can make it all the way this year.

How did all of you do with any challenges you might have been participating in? Do you have any recommendations for the letters I missed? (I had “L” covered but I didn’t finish the story in time ) Have you found anything interesting to join in on this year? I’d love to hear!

You wake in the middle of the night, your arms and feet pinned by strong hands. As you thrash your way to consciousness, a calm voice says, “Steady. We’re here to help.” Your mind registers a paramedic, a policeman, an ambulance. You are lying on the lookout at Keeper’s Point, the lookout Amanda Creen supposedly threw herself off. And you have absolutely no idea how you got there.

Aaron Rowe walks in his sleep. He has dreams he can’t explain and memories he can’t recover. Death doesn’t scare him – his new job with a funeral director may even be his salvation. But if he doesn’t discover the truth about his hidden past soon, he may fall asleep one night and never wake up. A potent, intense psychodrama that will keep you gripped to the very last page.

Based on what little I had read before starting this book (as in, only the blurb), I was thinking this was going to be yet another paranormal read. Boy, was I wrong! This was not a bad thing at all; it actually made it a better read for me, completely messing with my expectations. What I found was such a well written story that ranged from the mundane to extraordinary, that I think I enjoyed it more than I had anticipated.

The first thing that made an impression on me was: Why would this boy choose to become an apprentice to a funeral director? This is eventually revealed later in the story, but it begins the reader’s journey into discovering more about this character, Aaron, and what makes him tick. For a brief moment, we see him as this very hairy young man (as in long hair and beard), and this is a wonderful metaphor for what is going on in his head; the need to protect himself is manifested by his appearance. But all too soon, he needs a clean cut look for his job and, following with the metaphor, this is when his secrets begin to unfold to his new employer and to those of us reading.

What begins to emerge is that Aaron is, in fact, a decent young man. He’s smart and dedicated in a way that he’d never receive credit for through traditional school evaluations. He’s just been so busy with what’s going on in his head that he really hasn’t let anyone see it until he meets John Barton, the funeral director, and his family. Through their kindness, compassion, and understanding, they allow him the chance to shine. This is the kind of situation that should give us all a little hope for humanity.

Besides the depth of the main character, the book also offered lovely imagery in the writing. Early in the story, I was struck by this passage,

When sleep is not a sanctuary, darkness sometimes is. When the mess of human activity nags you, the ocean can make you deaf with its rhythmic wash.

These were beautiful, wise words for someone so young, yet really added to the feel of melancholy in the tale. There were also some fun, decidedly non-North American phrases like “petrol-powered lawn mowers” and “fringes” instead of bangs, as well as droll humour that helped to lighten some of the intense emotions.

All in all, Scot Gardner’s The Dead I Know was a surprisingly enjoyable book. It was filled with elements that we would normally consider quite dark in real life but was handled in such a way to show us that even though death is real and painful, it can be managed regardless of who you are or what your circumstance is. It also goes a long way to illustrate that sometimes those quiet kids we don’t know much about could be hiding some major secrets and that it takes a special kind of adult to take the time to help them find their way back to living. Despite its somewhat somber setting, the reader can easily walk away with an uplifting message. It was this incredible mix of elements that tipped the scale for me and hopefully will for you too.

An heiress in search of a title…

Francine Richards has one task: to marry an aristocrat. Her life—and a massive dowry—is dedicated to that goal. But as the daughter of a merchant, no one is offering marriage except lackwits and fortune hunters. She’s just about to accept one of them when disaster strikes: Francine falls in love.

A working man in want of a wife…

Anthony Pierce is a far cry from a titled lord. A bookkeeper in Mr. Richards’s hat shop, Anthony has ambition and the skills to revolutionize the business. But, he’s falling in love with the boss’s daughter.

A scheme that goes awry…

When Anthony and Francine cannot escape attraction, Francine creates a plan of her own. Can the two have a future despite their families’ objections? Or will their own desires destroy their only chance at happiness?

Chapter 1
It was the laugh that drew his attention. Low and husky, but not like a woman to her lover. The sound was more like a taste—rich and sweet on the tongue but with an extra spice to make it sassy. Those thoughts, right on the heels of the unusual sound, stopped him cold. And that was very odd indeed, because Anthony Michael Pierce was not a man prone to flights of fancy. But it was an unusualsound, and that made him pause even though this was not a place for him to loiter.
Anthony was looking for his father, who worked as secretary and chief accountant to Mr. Richards, the wealthiest milliner in London. Normally, his father worked at the shop, but today was Friday, the day of the weekly accounting, and so his father was here, and Anthony was joining him in the hopes of getting a position as bookkeeper.
But then the sound came–again–and he had to look. Who was the woman who laughed like that? She was in the kitchen, so he craned his neck around and saw the flash of a furry tail and heard scrambling. A kitten, obviously, and a bushy ginger one at that.
The laugh came again, and this time it seemed to slide down his spine, but not in a comfortable way. The spicy note in her voice set his lower back to tingling and—even more uncomfortable—it stimulated areas best not awakened when visiting the home of his father’s employer.
Unable to resist, he stepped into the kitchen, easing around the central worktable. But no one was there! Two steps more and he saw the kitten again. It was a ginger tabby, rolling around trying to disentangle a red ribbon from its body. Someone was clearly playing with the feline, using the ribbon to tease the kitten. It was a game he’d enjoyed himself back when he was a boy and prone to destroying his sister’s ribbons. But then he’d learned how much each ribbon cost, and he’d become more vigilant than his sister regarding her hair adornments. And their kitten had learned to entertain herself with catching mice.
Obviously, this woman had no such fear, which meant she was in a position to be careless with her things. He took another step, belatedly realizing the woman with the laugh must be crouched behind the worktable. He was just about to turn the corner when she spoke, her voice even more unsettling than her laugh.
“There you are, you greedy thing. Play with that and not my tarts.”
He watched as a milky white hand wound the last of the ribbon around the kitten’s tail. Milky white—he noticed—in part because it carried a dusting of flour. Ah, the woman was the cook. Excellent! A cook was well within his social strata. He had a moment. He could talk with her. And if he could manage it, he might even try to flirt.
So he pulled up his most charming smile and stepped around the table. The woman was just straightening from her crouch, but his appearance made her leap up even faster, her hand going to her mouth in alarm.
“Sir!” she squeaked—her voice high and tight—and he mourned the loss of her throaty, relaxed chuckle. He mourned also the view he had of her, bouncing up before him like that.
Judging from the shapeless dress, the woman was oversized. Plump. There was no more delicate way to put it. Plus her hair was pulled too tightly back from her face, giving the impression that she was perpetually startled. Or perhaps in a very strong wind.
And yet, even as he absorbed her appearance, he could not forget her laugh or her voice. He longed to hear it again, even as he mentally classified her appearance as somewhat below average.
“My apologies,” he said as he gave her a bow. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“I…” She bit her lip and looked around almost in panic. “I’m just not used to anyone coming here. They all know it’s my time to cook. Everyone, that is, but this greedy thing.” She gestured to the kitten who had managed to wrap the ribbon more tightly around itself and was right then chewing on a ragged edge.
He crouched down, using the kitten as an excuse to linger. “So you are the cook here?”
“Goodness no!” He heard a note of wistfulness in her voice. “I make the desserts. Since everyone likes them, they let me have the kitchen on alternate afternoons.”
He took an appreciative sniff. Cinnamon and apple. “It smells wonderful.”
“They should be out in a bit. I was just cleaning up.” She looked at a large bucket filled with dirty bowls, but everything else about the room was pristine. “Come back in an hour. The real cook will give you a tart.”
“It seems to me that you are a real cook, if the smell is anything to judge by.”
She flushed and looked down, her skin becoming the color of a flower petal. A pink rose on white. He saw it and he could not look away, which left them a pretty pair, she staring at the floor and he transfixed by her face.
They might have remained frozen like that for hours if not for his father. The man had a way of clearing his throat that could silence a room. It never failed to jolt Anthony to his feet, and it did so now.
“Sir!” he cried on his way to his feet.
“I thought I heard your voice,” his father snapped. “What are you doing in the kitchen?”
He didn’t have a ready excuse. It wasn’t like he could say he’d been distracted by a throaty laugh and creamy white skin. For one thing, his father would never believe him. He was not usually a man to be distracted by such things, not when a business opportunity was at hand.
Fortunately, while he was scrambling for something to say, the Not‑Cook answered for him, her voice taking on a tone of caustic authority despite her polite words.
“It was my fault entirely. I’m afraid I required someone to help me lift that pot.” She gestured to a gleaming thing set neatly on the sideboard. “He was nearby, so I asked him to help. Have I delayed him from something important?”
His father dipped his head in a minimal kind of bow. “Nothing of significance. Assuming, of course, he leaves immediately.” That last was accompanied by a dark look at the woman.
Anthony frowned, surprised momentarily into silence. His father clearly disliked this woman. It wasn’t anything overt, but Anthony knew his father well. There was a clear distaste for the Not‑Cook. What could she possibly have done to earn such scorn from his usually unflappable father? It didn’t matter. She was lovely and sweet, and he had no desire to insult her. So Anthony faced her directly and gave her a respectful bow.
“Thank you for allowing me to help,” he said. “I enjoyed it and your kitten.” Then he straightened. “Did you need anything else?”
She stared at him, her mouth going slack in astonishment. Then her eyes darted to his father before returning back to him. “Um, no,” she finally managed, her voice dimmed somehow from confusion. “Th‑thank you. You have been…very nice.” Then she bit her lip and turned away, another blush coloring the white of her skin.
A lovely sight, until it was ruined by his father’s sniff and more stern words. “I believe your food is burning,” he said coldly. “Come along Anthony. Mr. Richards is not a patient man.”
The woman started, and then said a very unladylike curse. She was already pulling open the oven, her back to the room at large. Clearly she was busy, and he was late. So much as he wanted to linger, Anthony knew now was not the time. He gave her another quick nod even though she wasn’t looking, and rushed around the table to join his father who was already striding through the house. They left the servants’ area and crossed into the main house. A moment later, he was ushered into the presence of the very formidable Mr. Richards.
“Look sharp!” his father snapped under his breath.
Anthony didn’t need the reminder. It was imperative that he focus. Mr. Richards had the power to make Anthony’s career and assure his future. So why was he still thinking about a pink blush on creamy white skin.

Click on these links to continue reading Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. And leave us a note to let us know what you thought of the story; we’d love to hear!

Similarly, there were mysteries focused on the fate of Alexei and the inability at one point to locate his remains. That matter, too, seems to have been resolved but there are still conspiracies out there about this family, what really happened on July 17, 1918, and if, in fact, any of the Romanovs survived.

In recognition of the date, we’re happy to offer one copy of The Last Romanov by Dora Levy Mossanen for giveaway (thanks to Sourcebooks Landmark!) If you’d like a chance to win, just leave a comment below, including your email address so we can contact you if you win (US/Canada only, please.) We’d also love to hear what rumours you’ve heard about Anastasia and her younger brother Alexei. I personally always held out hope that the Bolshevik police were not so cruel as to summarily execute those children, but it was a different time then and a different world, right?

For almost a century, Imperial Russia has captivated the imagination- the ruthless execution of the royal family, the disputed survival of the heir: it’s a cinematic chaos that the masterful Dora Levy Mossanen unravels for her readers. Taking readers deep into tarnished grandeur, The Last Romanov follows Darya, a wise old beauty whose time spent with the Imperial family has haunted her entire life. When the murderous events unfold, Darya is plagued by the prophecy made by the Empress’s advisor, Rasputin. She must find the missing Tsarevich Alexis Romanov and restore the monarchy or risk losing her own life.

It’s not easy to tread lightly wearing steel-toed boots.

Sirantha Jax isn’t known for diplomatic finesse. As a “Jumper” who navigates ships through grimspace, she’s used to kicking ass first and taking names later—much later. Not exactly the obvious choice to sell the Conglomerate to the Ithtorians, a people whose opinions of humans are as hard as their exoskeletons.

And Ithiss-Tor council meetings aren’t the only place where Ambassador Jax needs to maneuver carefully. Her lover, March, is frozen in permanent “kill” mode, and his hair-trigger threatens to sabotage the talks—not to mention their relationship.

But Jax won’t give up on the man or the mission. With the Outskirts beleaguered by raiders, pirates, and the flesh-eating Morgut, an alliance with Ithiss-Tor may be humanity’s only hope.

Which has Jax wondering why a notorious troublemaker like her was given the job…

To enter, just leave a comment below, including a contact e-mail where we can notify if/when you win the paperback copy of Doubleblind Contest is open to US/Canada mailing addresses only (we’re footing the bill for postage, so we apologize to our international readers) and closes on May 9, 2012. Good luck!

Also, if you haven’t read Ann’s new short story yet, check it out over at Heroes and Heartbreakers now!

You’ll find access at the bottom of this post to Heroes and Heartbreakers, who will be sharing Endurance in full tomorrow. I hope you enjoy!

Stone had never killed anything. Not an animal. Not an insect. His most sacred charge came in preserving life; he tended the brats when they took ill. He fed them. Played with them. Sometimes he taught them small things, like how to cut meat or tie a knot—nothing significant, the elders argued. It wasn’t as if he played a vital role in enclave life, not like the Wordkeeper. Anyone with two hands could clean the filth off a brat’s backside.
Fearing a freak attack, he’d stumbled into the common area, ready to pitch in, and found that his fellow citizens had gone crazy. Thimble had mentioned something about unrest, but he’d ignored her. He had thought, You worry too much. As it turned out, she had been right. I wish I’d listened. But…how could anyone expect this? All around him, they fought with whatever weapons fell to hand. People were bleeding and dying; death hung heavy in the air.
He backed away, thinking only to hide, but a Hunter stopped him with a look that promised Stone’s end, unless he did something really right. The boy shoved a weapon at him; Stone took the blade awkwardly, stupid with shock.
“Fight or die,” the Hunter demanded. “Are you with us?”
“With who?” He heard the break in his voice, knowing distress made him weak—unsuited to any task but breeding and caring for the young. A smarter male would know what to do, so maybe it was best he had been given only simple work. But that lack left him helpless now.
“Twist, or the elders. Whitewall’s dead, and the Wordkeeper’s corpse is right over there.”
Stone fought his urge to look but in the end, he couldn’t help it. The elder lay sprawled on his side, a dark pool spreading from his cut throat. Behind him, blood spattered the wall. His stomach lurched, and he tightened his hand on the knife to try to control the nausea.
There was no way out of this nightmare. “What side are you on?”
“I’m with Twist,” the Hunter snapped, like that should have been obvious. Maybe it would’ve been to anyone else.
At the best of times, he wasn’t quick to connect puzzle pieces or work things out. He’d always had Thimble for that. An ache sprang up in his chest.
Where is she?
The look in the Hunter’s eye told Stone that if he answered wrong, he’d get a dagger in the chest and end up in a pile next to the Wordkeeper. From this point on, everything would change. No matter who won, the enclave couldn’t continue as it had. Too many lives had already been lost.
“Me too,” he said quickly.
At that, the Hunter gave a satisfied nod. “I’m not surprised. You must’ve have noticed how unfair the rules are and how few lawbreakers actually did anything at all. Your best friend went on the long walk, didn’t she? Took the blame for you.”
The pain in his heart increased. He’d known what she was doing. Stone had pretended to believe in Deuce’s confession to settle any doubts the elders might have about him. He’d been thinking of the brat in his arms, the little one he wasn’t supposed to love. Unfortunately, he knew which one belonged to him, the little guy with his eyes and his smile, and it was impossible for him not to care. It just was. He would’ve said anything to keep his brat safe, and he had. Turned his back on his best friend and left her to die. The guilt of that moment would always haunt him. But maybe his moments were numbered, and it didn’t matter anymore.
Apparently he’d just joined the rebellion.
He went with the Hunter into battle, and only luck let him endure the massacre. Stone stuck close to his companion and slashed with desperate doubt at anything that came close. His size helped; it was rare for anyone to grow so tall. The Wordkeeper said he was a throwback, whatever that meant, a relic of a time when people ate better and grew larger. Stone only knew his long arms let him slam people away. He didn’t want to hurt them. The idea of using this blade on someone—his stomach turned. But he couldn’t help it. Stone tried, but they kept coming. Just shoving them away wasn’t enough, and the Hunter was staring at him.
Someone else lunged at him; and he reacted. With one thrust, he killed a girl, a Huntress, who’d come up in Deuce’s class. She wasn’t experienced, strong, or particularly skilled. Her throat yielded to his knife like the meat he cut for the brats, and hot blood poured over his fingers. The smell was coppery and sweet, and it made his tongue feel thick to breathe the heavy air. Her body plopped, and another Hunter rushed at him.
Why won’t they stop? What’s the point?
Stone wept as he fought until his arms were heavy and he smelled nothing but burnt meat and despair. His lungs burned raw; his eyes stung from the sweat trickling into them. His blade grew sticky, until it disgusted him to hold it. The Hunter beside him smiled, like they had done good work.
And then it was over.
Silk’s cohort encircled them. The blonde woman who commanded the Hunters strode forward, demanding, “Put down your weapons.”
The rebel Hunter rushed and died on her blade. With deceptive strength, she caught the young man she’d once led and laid him beside the other bodies. In someone else, Stone would’ve judged her expression as bleak and infinite grief.
But Silk firmed her chin, the look faded, and she leveled an icy stare on him. “Do you prefer death to the long walk, traitor?”
What will become of Boy23? That was his brat’s number. It seemed impossible and wrong that he would never learn the boy’s name or whether he survived. He’d betrayed Deuce for nothing. Maybe, he thought, some fates can’t be avoided…and I’ll always be banished for the crime of loving him.
The long walk had become a synonym for slow death. For those of the underground tribes, it meant exile, but there was no light at the end of the tunnels. Other settlements wouldn’t harbor lawbreakers, and everyone knew it was death to venture Topside. Might be better to take the blade in the gut. Faster, anyway.
But he couldn’t summon the courage to speak those words. Instead, others came out. “I’ll go, if I can beg one favor.”
“You’re in no position to bargain with me,” Silk snapped. “I don’t have time for this.”
She didn’t; it was true. The survivors had to clean up the bodies before plague set in. Dead meat attracted bad things. If they didn’t act fast, the enclave would be swarming with Freaks. That might happen anyway, if the smell got to the monsters and drove them to frenzy.
“Let me find Thimble to say good-bye. We were brat-mates.” That wasn’t the whole reason, of course. He meant to ask her to watch over Boy23 for him, but Silk wouldn’t get why. Farewell, she understood.
“Fine. Locate her and say what’s needed. You’d be given time to collect your personal items under normal circumstances anyway.”
Stone squared his shoulders, grateful he would be permitted this much. Living would be hard anyway, after the things he had done. Breeders gave life and preserved it; they didn’t kill.
“Wait.” She seemed to reconsider, taking stock of the ruined common area. “Look, I’m the last elder. Which means I’m in charge. And I didn’t always agree with how they ran things.”
They, meaning Copper, Whitewall, and the Wordkeeper? He waited to for her to go on.
“If you swear your loyalty, the enclave could use you. I’ll do the elections like Twist wanted and everything, though rebuilding has to be my priority. Frankly, right now, we don’t have the numbers left for me to send people Topside for the sake of old traditions.”
“I swear,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t fight you. I won’t plot anything.”
“Then find Thimble. Do a headcount and let me know how many people made it.”
“Including brats?”
“Yes.” With that, she turned to her remaining Hunters and snapped terse instructions regarding cleanup, but Stone didn’t wait to hear more.
He threw down the knife and sprinted with ever-increasing speed, hurdling bodies and smoldering piles of refuse. The neat organization of their enclave had vanished in a few, devastating hours. It would take weeks to restore order. When he passed Twist’s broken body, he paused. You got what you wanted, I guess, even if you didn’t live to see it. You changed things.
With each moment that he failed to find Boy23 or Thimble, his heart pressed up into his throat. It felt like it would split into two meaty pieces and come up in a hot gush of sickness, worsened by the stench of the dead and dying. This place no longer felt like home; there was no safety. Just wreckage.
If they’re gone, I will be too. I can’t survive this without them.
Then he came at last to the brat dorm, where he spotted movement within a makeshift shelter deep in the shadows. Stone flew across that distance, hardly daring to hope. When he opened the curtain and found Thimble there, safe and whole, surrounded by brats, he smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. He’s there, my little Boy23. She saved him. Oh, Thimble.
He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around all of them. He might never let go.

Want to read more? Just click here after 9:00am Wednesday, April 25th to read the rest of the story.

Discover what makes you, you…

What makes you tick and hum?
What quirks and habits are yours and yours alone?
who do you wish you could be?
who are you now?

The answers make up your “secret me,” your soul’s fingerprint.

Packed with creative and quirky prompts, ideas, and activities, The Secret Me Book gives you an inspiring way to get to know this core part of you.

Scribble thoughts, make lists, paste pictures, and doodle—all tapping into the real you.

What would you do if you won the lottery?
Is there a movie that defines you?
What’s your secret talent?

Here’s your secret me book—it’s time to celebrate what you’re made of.

Available from Sourcebooks, Amazon, Chapters, Book Depository

This book came to me at the perfect time. I had recently experienced an epiphany and decided to get my career back on track after taking easy street for a number of years while raising my family. A few months ago, a co-worker left and it hit me…if she can do it so can I! I’ve been MIA in the blogosphere since, as I study to earn the credentials I had started with pre-kids.

So, you probably want me to get on with it and tell you what was the appeal of this book? It was a fun way to take a deep look at yourself! Although categorized under self-help, the approach was unique. I’d compare the book to a doodle book I had bought for my son. You flip to a random page and see what the page tells you do. If you’re not in the mood for that page, simply flip to another. Now instead of drawing a picture, most of the time you jot down a few words. Such a simple idea really, but not always easily answered.

It makes you take a outside look at yourself, something that I find living day to day I take for granted. As adults, we can easily get stuck in ruts of what needs to be done without any idea of future ambitions or plans. Through the simple exercises, we can take a deeper look at ourselves, and kick life back on track with happiness as the ultimate goal, in an individually crafted, personal way. From “Is there a day you could do over? Describe it”, to silly ones like, “What makes you laugh when you are alone?” This is definitely worth checking out for anyone looking to learn a little more about themselves!

Other events surrounding this momentous occasion include a contest hosted by Penguin Canada for 1 of 10 signed copies. You can enter here or head over to the website.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway

From hearing Neil speak on the radio and all the talk about The Book of Awesome (and its follow-ups), this is something we should all be doing to #CelebrateAwesome and enjoy life! To add in our two cents, Mel says her Awesome thing is CHOCOLATE! Mine is singing loudly to music in the car, even when people are looking

What’s your Awesome thing? Feel free to comment below or head over to Twitter and use the hashtag #CelebrateAwesome.