To Stay Or Not To Say, That Is The Question...

Howdy!: I am deciding to delete this blog, despite that I do not. I just do not know if I have people who like this page or wan time to keep it up and continue.I am starting another blog, bu would like to make this in conjunction with it. If you do like this blog please comment with a simple "keep" if not tell me what you would have me do to improve this page. Also, My little sister will also begin to introduce her own readings, so it will be a nice variety.

Unknown Authors Support: I Dare You To...

                                                            

This year I haven't spent any money in buying any books. I've been keeping a very low budget and so I've strayed from the path of purchasing books to downloading free e-books from amazon! let me tell you what I had the fortune to find! there are so many up and coming authors and their writing were stupendous. Thus, from now on I want to support them. Even if I have to purchase 2 e-books for 99 cents each week. I would love it if you guys would try the same. As much are there unique popular authors there are unique and talented unknown authors.

What I'm trying to say is that everyone with a book blog should try to read a free e-book at least once a week and blog about the book and share it with others! what a great way to support the growing literary world, heh?

The free books range from historical, Young adults, modern romance, science fiction and the supernatural.

Now that I have voiced my self. I know I haven't been on for a decade and I want to revamp my blog, create my own header (unique.. just me), and introduce books that I've never introduced before. If you know how let me know!

Lily Of The Nile

Ello Everyone! Hope you missed me, but lets start off my long~~~~ break with a book review shall we?

So 2 days ago I took a book out of the library and I fell in love all over again. 

Lily of the Nile is about a young Ptolemaic woman from Egypt whose homeland was imperialized by Octavian also known as Augustus. Cleopatra Selene, the daughter of Cleopatra and Mark Antony was regarded with such respect in her homeland, that people actually believed her to be the resurrection of the goddess Isis also known as Artemis and Venus in other fiction tales. In this story the goddess has such a profound and deep influence on the characters, that she is regarded and seen as the harbinger of both good and bad; thus amidst the fall of Rome, her followers blames her and others seek revenge. When Selene's parents reign came to an end all of Egypt perished with the royal family while Egypt and her heirs were held captives to Rome. The Goddess Isis was no more and she was hated. Now, it is the job of Selene to change that and bring back the faith, for if not whatever essence remains of the Goddess in Rome with vanish and Rome will truly perish.

With Cleopatra and Mark Antony dead the burden of the throne and crown rested on both Selenes' and her brother Helios' shoulders. But how would they gain what they lost? and most of all how can two children defeat the ruthless Augustus?  and rebuild Rome back to its former glory? the heroine goes through a series of ups and downs.

She began to deny her faith for her fear of death took control of her every action, her need to please Augustus made her indifferent to those who she cared for and loved, but always the goddess Isis remained within her for she was the resurrection prophesied before her birth. However, her weakness was just a point of transition and as her will and strength renewed, Augustus grows weary. Selene grows stronger and this will make her the ruler of the Golden Age. However, every story has a turning point and Augustus became a piece in her game.

This story is completely different from what I have read. Selene's obedience is was her vantage point and she used it well to lure in the ruler of Rome. A great feat for a child of sixteen right? 

There is romance in the story; As we should know the Egyptians believed that royal siblings were to marry each other. However, Selene falls in love with Juba a conquered prince of Nimudia (but that does not last long as well)

I cannot go further into all the detail. It would break my heart if I spoiled it for you guys, but like I always do I'll add an excerpt:

Chapter One

Something coiled dangerously within the basket I carried, but I’d been told not to open the lid nor to ask what lurked beneath its woven reeds. The basket smelled of comforting cedar and lush figs, but it was embroidered with emblems of Anubis—the jackal-headed Guide of the Dead.

Anubis was a kind god, so I should have taken solace, but seeing him only magnified my sense of dread. Since we’d lost the war, Alexandria was quiet and filled with ill omens.

I had once been the safest child in Egypt, but the world held terrors everywhere for me now, and the twisting motion in the basket convinced me that I held treachery in my arms. I came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the avenue, beneath a marble colonnade that cast dusk shadows over the silent street. “I don’t want to carry the basket anymore,” I said.

“Sometimes we have to do what we don’t want to, Princess Selene,” our royal tutor said, daring to nudge me forward with his divination staff. That he’d poked me offended my royal dignity, but I knew better than to chastise Euphronius, for the old wizard was unusually anxious that day. The metallic scent of dark magic clung to his white linen kilt and wafted behind him as he hurried us along. He kept glancing back at the Roman guards who accompanied us at a barely respectful distance, and even though the sun was low and the evening cool, perspiration glistened on his bald head.

Euphronius lifted my littlest brother, Philadelphus, into his arms and urged us to walk faster. “Let’s hurry before Octavian changes his mind about letting you see your mother.”

I tried to keep pace, but the basket was unbearably heavy and my silvered sandal caught on the hem of my pearl-beaded gown. I heard the fabric tear but managed to regain my footing, albeit with a complaint. “I could walk faster if a servant carried the basket. Why should I have to?”

After all, I wasn’t just a princess of Egypt. Wasn’t I also queen of all Cyrenaica and Libya? I wore a royal diadem embroidered with pearls upon my brow. Why should I carry anything for myself much less something that frightened me?

“I’ll carry it for you,” my twin brother offered.

But Euphronius waved Helios away. “Princess Selene, your mother wanted you to bring the basket as an offering to your father. Will you dishonor Lord Antony by failing to provide for what remains of his soul in this world?”

Our wizard needn’t have used the blunt cudgel of guilt; the reminder that my mother had commanded me was enough to make me obey, but his mention of my dead father plunged me into a grief-stricken silence. My poor, disgraced father.

I first met him when I was four years old. He’d worn a sword on his belt, a tall horsehair-crested helmet, and sculpted armor beneath a bloodred cape; he’d terrified me. When his studded military sandals first thundered on the marbled floors, I’d cowered and cried. My mother had scooped me into her arms and told me not to fear, for my father had gifts for me and my twin, and a marriage proposal for her. The Romans were our friends and protected us, she had said.

But now I knew she had lied.

When the real Romans came—for that’s what Octavian’s men called themselves—they came to conquer. When the real Romans came, not even my father with his mighty sword could protect us, and unable to live with this failure, he plunged that mighty sword into his stalwart heart.

Now, without him, everything was crumbling. Our palace was overrun by enemy soldiers, my two oldest brothers were missing, and my mother was a captive. All I could do was stumble along behind our tutor, silenced by the enormity of our loss.

Conquered Alexandria’s spacious streets were empty. Only the awnings of the marketplace stood as a colorful reminder of the usual bustle of its merchants. Even the gold-domed temples were deserted and I wondered if the gods had abandoned us too.

“Where is everyone?” little Philadelphus asked.

“They fled,” Euphronius said curtly as we passed the rows of statuary inside the royal enclosure. “The people fled when they heard Octavian’s legions were coming. Those who stayed have shut themselves up in their homes, doors locked and bolted.”

“So only statues stand bravely before the Romans,” Helios said, and I felt him bristle. My twin’s dark mood made mine even blacker. With my heavy basket, I trudged up the marble stairs, unable to swish my skirts in the royal fashion I had practiced. There were no crowds to wave to me now anyway. We had come to my mother’s tomb where she had hidden from Octavian, but he had found her. Now it was virtually her prison.

Euphronius approached the Roman guards. “Queen Cleopatra’s children are here to see her. The honorable Octavian gave his permission.”

One of the guards searched Euphronius. He actually put his unclean hands on our wizard’s holy person. I watched, aghast, trying to ignore the curious motion within the basket, an echo of the fear that snaked around my heart. Then the ill-mannered Roman guard approached me and I held my basket out to him, hoping he’d reach inside. Hoping that whatever evil spirit lurked there would fly out and strike him dead!

But the guard sniffed dismissively and waved me through like a peasant. It was the first time, but not the last time, I realized how easily Romans discounted a girl. Of course, my mother had learned that lesson long ago.

We found my mother in her tomb beside a wax statue of my father. She was setting out a meal for his ka, as if she were but a humble wife, and not Cleopatra, Pharaoh of Egypt.

Where my skin was fair, hers was a sun-kissed copper, befitting a ruler of a desert nation. Her hair was a curious mixture; dark strands shot through with bronze. And though her features were indelicate, her coloring was that of a golden goddess. Millions of people believed that she was just that—Isis reborn.

Candlelight glittered off the gilded walls of the tomb to surround her with an ethereal glow and for a moment, I thought she was working magic on my father’s statue. The common folk said that statues imbued with ka could be brought to life, but Euphronius had told us the rest of my father’s soul must pass through the gates into the next life, and my mother had agreed.

Now she turned to us with an expression of otherworldly serenity, which only added to my alarm, for serenity was never one of my mother’s famed characteristics. She bid her servants Iras and Charmian to take the basket from me, and I surrendered it eagerly. Then she opened her arms wide. “Come.”

We ran to her.

“The soldiers are everywhere!” Philadelphus wept, for he was only six years old, and frightened.

“Don’t cry,” Helios commanded.

“It’s all right,” my mother said, gently running her fingers over my little brother’s tearstained cheeks. “Kings and queens cry with family. Hide your grief from subjects and strangers.”

“The Romans won’t tell us anything,” I said, fighting back tears of my own. “Where’s Caesarion? Where’s Antyllus? What of our cousin, Petubastes? They’re all gone from the palace!”

Becoming a Geisha- Memoirs of a Geisha Soundtrack

Swoon by Nina Malkin

One day your life takes an unexpected turn. Your friends and family are becoming violent, too-sexual, and oblivious to the evil lurking around them. That is the unexpected turn our heroine Candice fell into. Moving from New-York to Swoon, Connecticut was what you'd describe as dull until "He" came. After he came everything changed. This quiet town of Swoon was in the palm of his hands and the only person who is capable of stopping him is Candice a.k.a Dice. His mission? Revenge and Candice naively revived him from the dead. This isn't your everyday zombie revived from the dead; this is a body molded from clay and given a  spirit who wants to wreak havoc on the descendants of those who murdered a woman he loved more than 70 years ago.  This isn't your everyday teenage drama. Candice's Best-friend turns into a crazy sex nymph and Sinclair has the power to manipulate everyone at will. So what will Candice do to stop the man she loves? He wont stop for nothing despite his love for her and Swoon is just getting started!

I love this book. Nina Malkin did a great job! Trust me! I hate those crestfallen teenage book but this book has a lot of taste. Sinclair is a spirit that has for a while been taking over others body to get his revenge and he falls in love with Candice. However, Sin is not only the boy of her dreams, he is also ruthless, cold, and hateful (except to Candice). His motive is to obliterate all the decedents of those who abused him and raped the girl he was in love with many many years ago.  The only thing that pissed me off was the ending but that does not mean it was bad. It has been acclaimed by Karen Marie Moning and Melissa De La Cruz. You guys have to read this. It came out in 2009 but I have yet to hear people introduce it and comment on it.

Here is an excerpt from the book:

"All you need do is touch me. Hold my hands... look in my eyes and ... know... me..."
     The air was calm now. A faint hint of fall infiltrated the night, but it wasn't the chill that rippled my skin. Fear of knowledge had me in it's grip. What are the cliches? Ignorance is bliss? Curiosity killed the cat? Don't ask, Don't tell? I raised my eyes to the canopy of leaves, all the movement I could muster. No force flew down to propel me forward; I could drop my head and close my eyes.
      Here was the stillness of stalemate, and then these words, in a voice defiant and definitively male: "You leave me no alternative than to take." 
       Taken I was. Seized, lifted, pressed against the tree trunk. Then my hands, clasped and claimed
"Look at me." The voice softened. "Please."
   I would, I would, I would.
"Look... at ... me" 
I would. I could. I did. Moonlight split the clouds once and for all as I opened my eyes. And there he was. Holding my hands, raised like a bridge between our two hearts, the most ...

Thats all for now, so Purchase the book :}

By The Rivers of Babylon

I have read this book two times and I must say it should be acclaimed. It's like when you fall upon a book, take a chance and read it, and it turned out mysteriously fascinating.  I don't know how this book went published without some type of best sellers title. Anyway, this story take place in Hartford, Connecticut?? and contains the genre's: Christianity (abstractly spoken), Super-natural, Romance and Ghetto-ness. The two characters are Gabriella Sinclair and Lincoln Duvall. Gabriella is a beautiful black religious woman; who works as a journalist. She tries to dismantle the organization (drugs, sex, etc) of the Third Ward's most notorious criminal ( a drug lord & murderer who sold his soul to the devil) Lincoln Duvall. What knocked me completely was the fact that the supernatural acspects contained in this book was not only the author showing you the works of true religion (christianity) but also the supernatural power of Lincoln Duvall. The two characters eventually fall in love and Duvall gave himself away to prison (15-25yr) to live a life with Gabriel when he comes out. This book has it all. I personally am not a fan of African American books but this book just caught me completely. The elements added together in this book are not common genre's you see put together so professionally ; It makes you delve into the story even more. Its impossible for you to not like this book but I advise that no body below the age of 16 reads this book. So on a rate of 5 I give this book a 10!! Don't miss this chance. 

You can read an excerpt from Amazon below:

CHAPTER ONE

"For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song..."

-- Psalms 137:3

A barefoot woman in a torn dress was running along a cratered path between buildings. Her long hair, matted and wind-tousled, but silky as the inside of a coffin, flapped like ravens' wings against her shoulders. Her burnished arms, cross-hatched with scars, held the hands of two little boys who could barely keep up with her, moving so fast their feet were a blur.
The taller of the boys, dressed only in pajama pants, was sobbing uncontrollably. The face of the smaller boy, who had managed to put on one of his sneakers and only the top of his pajamas, was shut as hard as a door. Above them, the sky, clotted with stars, was as purple as a bruise.
Shades jerked as they ran past two more high-rises, past faces pressed curiously against windowpanes and hallways spilling over with junkies and teenagers. Laughter tittered behind them. A yellow dog, tied with frayed rope to an iron railing, lunged in vain. They ran on, breaths heaving, and a woman collecting cans from a driveway paused knowingly, pointed toward the last tenement's open hallway door.
"Come on," she beckoned, but they ran on. It was a typical Friday night and the odor of burning dumpsters filled the air.
At the end of the last tenement, the makeshift path suddenly curved downward into high grasses filled with rats' nests and discarded trash. She dragged them on still, crushing through debris to the mesh fencing that separated the tenements from the river bottom. The shorter boy lost his sneaker here, but held tightly to her hand, refusing to cry.
The woman groped blindly until she found it, a hole, like a slit in the mesh. She pushed the shortest boy through first, angled herself through and dragged the sobbing boy in behind her.
"Shhh now..." She smacked him so hard he bit his lip.
The shouts of a running man silenced the cicadas. The woman looked fearfully toward the sound. Behind them, the mesh quivered and they knew, drunk as he was, he had found the breach.
Moving deftly in the darkness, they huddled at last under the familiar canopy of thick willow that had become, by now, more sanctuary than shelter. She held them close, her eyes closed, lips moving like a prayer in the darkness. They knew the routine. Sometimes she dragged them here and they stayed for days, living off wild blueberries or leeks or whatever else they could find. Other times, when he appeared suddenly at the door, she sent them there alone, shoving them out the back door and into the dark hallway where they stumbled all the way down the stairs and to the river.
Now, in the grainy darkness, the smallest boy's eyes glowed like a cat's. He could smell the rich, dark riverbank soil, hear the suck of water as it slapped and lapped along the water's edge. He was the cause of all of this inconvenience and the reason the left side of their mother's pretty face was beginning to blacken and swell. One day he might mistakenly stumble through the bramble and actually find their secret place, find the three of them crouched there, huddled there as always, praying for their lives. Hatred gleamed and welled up inside of him now, the shiny blackness filling him so completely that it tangled and caught in his throat, made it difficult to breathe. He swallowed hard, tried coughing into his fist, but it refused to move. Looking up in the darkness at his mother, he saw the wetness sliding from her eyes, the bruised skin swelling like a hill along her left temple. She began her humming as usual, tonguing the words of the song he knew by heart now. Loving her was too risky he decided right then,and was relieved to hear the soft patter of rain echoing around them.Soon they'd all be drenched and the river would swell near its borders,but it was alright. The rain, like any water, was a brilliantdistraction. Water, he thought, looking again toward the murky riverthat seemed to lord over everything, was the only constant thing worthdepending on.

October, 1993

It had rained all day and the fat heavy drops mucked up the riverbank closest to the water's edge. Lincoln Duvall was squatting, rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the surface of the water as it broke to swallow the last rock he'd cast into its center. Water was like life, he thought. Swallowed you up so fast it was like you'd never existed at all.
He knew it before it happened. Saw it in his mind's eye first, the heavy dark boots plunging and plowing through the mud and down the bank toward him. He'd be tall and wiry and pale as an egg. His arms would be held out to balance his body against the weight of gravity pulling him down. He'd be wearing black jeans and a brown hoodie under his leather jacket. He'd be carrying a striped umbrella that made walking in the mud even more difficult. He wouldn't be able to manage it and would fall on his behind. He'd jump up cursing everything then.
"What's up, Man? You coming?" The words shouted against the wind slapped him full in the face. "Look at you. I knew I'd find you here. Tripping at the river as usual..."
Linc looked up knowingly and saw he was right as usual. It was Ghost in the expected attire.. He held the striped umbrella forward like an offering, his words slurring into the rain. "It's late, Man. We gonna miss 'em if we don't get up to The Boulevard now."
"I'm coming."
"Now?" Ghost pressed.
"I said I was coming." Linc turned back to watch the last ripple. He loved the relentless violence of the rain, loved how it punctured the water's surface like a thousand daggers.
"C'mon if you coming. Don't see why you always gotta do this anyway." Ghost kissed his teeth, annoyed at the prospect of having to wedge his six-foot-four body through the fence again, to wade through all that brush and mud. He turned to start back toward the wards and slid backward easily, the umbrella flying out of his hand. Linc watched as he clamored to his feet cursing and sputtering mud.
"See. You need to learn what your momma shoulda taught you a long time ago."
"What's that?"
"Mind your business."
Linc cast a warning gaze on him and Ghost felt the heat and raised his chin. A chill swept through him. Linc probably made him fall, he thought. Linc was good for that. Was good for casting his will on innocent people and making them prey. One look into his predator eyes and you knew it was possible. Dark, hypnotic, menacing eyes like that weren't human. Eyes that could whip you without putting a hand on you, and regardless of how tough a man was in The Street, eyes like that were impossible to stare into for long. So Ghost caved in like he always did. He averted his own eyes quickly. There was no point in wondering how Lincoln had stood out in the rain all that time without an umbrella and still not managed to get wet. Nothing about Linc Duvall ever made sense.
"I never capped nobody in the rain," said Ghost. "I got a feeling there's gonna be something different about this time."
Sensing fear, Linc scowled his disgust, but said nothing.
"I guess it shouldn't be no different than all the others. Just the way I feel somehow."
Again Linc didn't respond. They stood there quietly, looking out over the restless water.
"Capping. What does it mean anyway? Decapitation? Taking off somebody's head?"
Lincoln glanced at his Rolex and frowned. "I hope so," he said finally. He edged forward then, as close as he could get, and hacked into the river.
Ghost shivered in the raw dampness. The wind was blowing ferociously, threatening to snatch his umbrella or at least blow it inside out. He struggled to close it as Lincoln looked up and pointed a finger toward the sky. The wind seemed to hiccup and then lie still. An eerie calm suddenly hung over the edge of the river. Ghost sneezed twice and hurried to get out of the pelting rain. The wind had not held but the day was still miserable and bleak, fading into growing darkness. It was a day void of life and beauty, Ghost thought, a most ugly day to die.

• • •

"Gabby? Hey you. Hankerson wants to see you in his office. 'Pronto,' he says."
Slumped forward at her desk with both hands clutching her forehead, she didn't move. Not because she hoped he'd go away, but because she couldn't move and it looked to the short man in the Brooks Brothers suit leaning half of his body into her cubicle, that she was crying.
"Hey you..." He drummed the foam partition with his stubby fingers and waited. "Gabriella?" he called softly, readjusting the newspaper folded under his arm. "I heard the call about the shooting in the second ward this morning and I knew it was yours. Are you okay? Were you hurt out there?"
Gabriella Sinclaire sighed at last and sat up. Raking tired fingers through her tousled hair, she looked over her shoulder into the denim-colored eyes. Her cheeks were wet, her lashes thickened by the salty water. She wore a gray skirt and a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar. On the front of the snowy blouse, a red blotch the size of a cabbage, bloomed like a rose.
She breathed deeply, fingered the stained collar. "I can't do this anymore, Joe. I just can't. It's just not fair."
He put down the paper and crouching beside her chair, pressed a warning finger against his lips. He watched a single tear slide down the bridge of her nose. He reeked of coffee and tobacco and the tuna baguette he'd had for lunch. Joe was a senior editor who had been with The Heartford Chronicle for close to thirty years. He'd be retiring soon, and once he was gone, Gabriella wasn't sure how she'd survive the newsroom's cutthroat climate. Joe was more than a boss. He was a comrade-in-arms.
Now, the police radio dangling from his hip crackled with static. Another call was coming in. Two more cruisers were being dispatched to the first of the three wards to solve yet another domestic dispute. They looked at each other and this time it was Joe who sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
She pressed a tissue against her eyelids a...

Heart's Blood by Juliet Marillier

A dead father and a sister who abandons her; was the beginning of the young scribe, Caitrins' life. When the only two people in the world she loved and could trust leaves, eighteen year old Caitrin was left to the care of her distant aunt and cousin. The only word that could describe those distant relations are cruel and boarder murder. She was told to marry her cousin, who abuses her , so she took it upon her self to escape. After her long journey, Caitrin fell upon Whistling Tor. A place rumored to be haunted and held secrets of many past chieftans who died mysteriously.
Caitrin meets Anluan, the current Chieftan of Whistling Tor. Anluan's deformity causes his coldness and aloofness, but gradually he changes, becuase his love for Caitrin  grows. However, this is just one part of the story. Caitrin was hired as a scribe; to translate the irish written work of Anluans  grand-father and  great grand-fathers work, but there is a mystery to be solved, when Caitrin realizes that all the wives of the chieftans died by murderous intent and a wierd power all the chieftans have of controlling the dead ghost that surrounds Whistling Tor can not be destroyed. There are more characters in the story who are very interesting and you find to love.

I love this book! and I do hope you guys enjoy it. Marrilier a beautiful Fantasy writer. And I'm picky when it comes to fantasy work. E-mail me if you need more info!!

WildWood Dancing by Juliet Marillier

                                                                        

     This book is a cross between The princess and the frog and the 12 dancing sisters; with Vampires, faeries, and the magical. If I lived in a world such as the one in WildWood Dancing it would be adventurous. This book is the perfect book to sit down with and lose yourself in, because it is full of false pretenses and trust me when it comes to this book it's beautiful. It comes to a point where you feel your in another world beyond your own and you ache badly to join the main character in her struggles and happiness.

WildWood Dancing is a Book Sense 76 pick; made for the enjoyment of both young adult ( Yes! it is part of my YA High Listers) and Adult with nothing to lack in plot and character development.

WildWood Dancing By Juliet Marilier is about 5 young sisters ranging from 5-16 who experience a life all others would envy. They have a secret and that secret can be the death of many, but they take the chance it make the best of it. Jena the Second oldest daughter who is the heroine in the story contains the power to open a portal that leads them into another realm--the world of the Fae. They are loved and accepted in the other realm, but trouble lurks when cousin Cezar wants to take control of the household after the girls father left for overseas trading. The Eldest daughter Tati falls in love with a boy from the dark of the moon realm and Jena believe it is her duty to keep them apart for it is forbidden and the enchanted forest that is homes to fae folks is endangered by cousin Cezar who threatens to destroy it in the human realm, thus destroying it i the enchanted realm.

It all started by a childs-play sacrifice ten years ago to something more than they anticipated.

Five adventurous sisters.....

Four dark creatures.....

Three Magical gifts....

Two forbidden lovers.....

One enchanted frog.....

What are you waiting for?

Chapter One

I’ve heard it said that girls can’t keep secrets. That’s wrong: we’d proved it. We’d kept ours for years and years, ever since we came to live at Piscul Dracului and stumbled on the way into the Other Kingdom. Nobody knew about it—not Father, not our housekeeper, Florica, or her husband, Petru, not Uncle Nicolae or Aunt Bogdana or their son, Cezar. We found the portal when Tati was seven and I was six, and we’d been going out and coming in nearly every month since then: nine whole years of Full Moons. We had plenty of ways to cover our absences, including a bolt on our bedchamber door and the excuse that my sister Paula sometimes walked in her sleep.

I suppose the secret was not completely ours; Gogu knew. But even if frogs could talk, Gogu would never have told. Ever since I’d found him long ago, crouched all by himself in the forest, dazed and hurt, I had known I could trust him more than anyone else in the world.

It was the day of Full Moon. In the bedchamber our gowns and shoes were laid out ready; combs, bags, and hair ornaments were set beside them. Nothing would be touched now, until the household was safely in bed. Fortunately, it was rare for Florica to come up to our room, because it was at the top of a flight of stairs, and stairs made her knees hurt. I did wonder how much Florica knew or guessed. She must have noticed how quiet we always were on the night of Full Moon, and how exhausted we were when we stumbled down to breakfast the next morning. But if she knew, Florica didn’t say a thing.

During the day we kept up our normal activities, trying not to arouse suspicion. Paula helped Florica cook fish ciorb?a, while Iulia went out to lend a hand to Petru, who was storing away sacks of grain to last us over the winter. Iulia did not enjoy the hard work of the farm, but at least, she said, it made the time go more quickly. Tati was teaching Stela to read: I had seen the two of them ensconced in a warm corner of the kitchen, making letters in a tray of wet sand.

I sat in the workroom with Father, reconciling a set of orders with a record of payments. I was good with figures and helped him regularly with such tasks. The merchant business in which he was a partner with his cousin, whom we called Uncle Nicolae, kept the two of them much occupied. Gogu sat on the desk, keeping himself to himself, though once or twice I caught his silent voice—the one only I could hear.

You’re upset, Jena.

“Mmm,” I murmured, not wanting to get into a real conversation with him while both Father and his secretary, Gabriel, were in the room. My family didn’t truly believe that I sometimes knew what Gogu was thinking. Even my sisters, who had long ago accepted that this was no ordinary frog, thought that I was deluding myself—putting my own words into the frog’s mouth, perhaps. I knew that was wrong. I’d had Gogu since I was a small girl, and the things he told me definitely didn’t come from my own head.

Don’t be sad. Tonight is Full Moon.

“I can’t help it, Gogu. I’m worried. Now hush, or Father will hear me.”

Father was trying to write a letter. He kept coughing, and in between bouts he struggled to catch his breath. Tomorrow he would be leaving on a journey to the port of Constan¸ta, in the milder climate of the Black Sea coast. His doctor had told him, sternly, that if he tried to get through another winter at Piscul Dracului in his present ill health, he would be dead before the first buds opened on the oaks. We five sisters would be looking after the place on our own, right through the winter. Of course, Uncle Nicolae would help with the business, and Florica and Petru with the house and farm. It was not so much the extra responsibility that troubled me. Father was away often enough on business and we had coped before, though not for so long. What chilled me was the thought that when we said goodbye in the morning, it might be forever.

At supper we were all quiet. I was thinking about what Father had confided to Tati and me earlier. Up till then, none of us had mentioned the possibility that Father might die of this illness, for to say that aloud would be to put the unthinkable into words. But Father had wanted his eldest daughters to be prepared for whatever might happen. Should he die before any of us girls married and bore a son, he’d explained, both Piscul Dracului and Father’s share of the business would go to Uncle Nicolae, as the closest male relative. We were not to worry. If the worst should occur, Uncle Nicolae would see we were provided for.

Uncle Nicolae’s family home was called Vârful cu Negur?a: Storm Heights. His house was quite grand, set on a hillside and surrounded by birch and pine forest. He ran a prosperous farm and a timber business, as well as the trading ventures that had made him wealthy. When we were little, we had lived in the merchant town of Bra¸sov, and Vârful cu Negur?a had been a place we visited as a special treat. It was hard to say what I had loved best about it: the dark forest, the forbidden lake, or the excitement of playing with our big cousins, who were both boys.

But there was no doubt at all what Father had loved. Next door to Vârful cu Negur?a was Piscul Dracului, Devil’s Peak. Father had first seen the empty, crumbling castle, set on a high spur of rock, when he was only a boy. Our father was an unusual kind of person, and as soon as he clapped eyes on Piscul Dracului he wanted to live there. There’d been nobody to inherit the ruin and the tract of wildwood that went with it; perhaps the many strange tales attached to the place had frightened people away. The owner had died long ago. Florica and Petru had been custodians of the place for years, looking after the empty chambers and eking out a living from the small farm, for they were hardworking, thrifty folk.

Father had waited a long time to achieve his dream. He had worked hard, married, and fathered daughters, bought and sold, scrimped and saved. When he’d set enough silver aside from his merchant ventures, trading in silk carpets and bear skins, spices and fine porcelain, he’d quietly paid a large sum to an influential voivode, gone into partnership with Uncle Nicolae, and moved our family into Piscul Dracului.

I think Mother would have preferred to stay in Bra¸sov, for she feared the tales folk told about the old castle. It looked as if it had grown up out of the forest, with an assortment of bits and pieces sprouting from every corner: tiny turrets, long covered walkways, squat round towers, arches, and flagpoles. The eccentric nobleman who had built it had probably been someone just like Father. People seldom ventured into the forest around Piscul Dracului. There was a lake deep within the wildwood, a place unofficially known as the Deadwash, though its real name was prettier: T?aul Ielelor, Lake of the Nymphs. Every family had a dark story about the Deadwash. We got ours soon after we moved into the castle. When I was five years old, my cousin Costi—Uncle Nicolae’s eldest son—drowned in T?aul Ielelor. I was there when it happened. The things folk said about the lake were true.

Before Father became so ill, Tati and I had scarcely given a thought to such weighty matters as what might happen to Piscul Dracului, with no son to inherit our father’s property. My elder sister was a dreamer, and I had a different kind of future in mind for myself: one in which I would work alongside my father, traveling and trading and seeing the world. Marriage and children were secondary in my scheme of things. Now—with Father’s cough ringing in our ears, and his white face regarding us across the supper table—they had become a frightening reality. I remembered Aunt Bogdana saying that sixteen was the ideal age for a young woman to wed. Tati was already in her seventeenth year; I was only one year younger.

Father went off to bed as soon as the meal was over; he’d hardly touched his food. The others disappeared to our bedchamber, but I waited for Florica to bank up the fire in the big stove and for Petru to bolt the front door, and for the two of them to retire to their sleeping quarters. Then it was safe, and I ran up the stairs to our chamber, my worries set aside for now, my heart beating fast with an anticipation that was part joy, part fear. At last it was time.

The long room we sisters shared had four round windows of colored glass: soft violet, blood-red, midnight-blue, beech-green. Beyond them the full moon was sailing up into the night sky. I put Gogu on a shelf to watch as I took off my working dress and put on my dancing gown, a green one that my frog was particularly fond of. Paula was calmly lighting our small lanterns, to be ready for the journey.

With five girls, even the biggest bedchamber can get crowded. As Tati fastened the hooks on my gown, I watched Iulia twirling in front of the mirror. She was thirteen now, and developing the kind of curvaceous figure our Mother had had. Her gown was of cobalt silk and she had swept her dark curls up into a circlet of ribbon butterflies. We had become clever, over the years, in our use of the leftovers from Father’s shipments. He was good at what he did, but buying Piscul Dracului had eaten up a lot of his funds and, even in partnership with his wealthy cousin, he was still making up for lost ground. I saw the books every day—he had been unable to conceal from me that finances remained very tight. We sisters had to improvise. We made one new dancing gown anytime a cargo contained a little more of a certain fabric than the buyer had requested. I wore Tati’s hand-me-downs; Paula wore mine. Iulia, with her fuller figure, did rather better, because she could not fit into either Tati’s clothes or mine. All the same, she complained; she would have liked a whole wardrobe of finery. Tati was clever with her needle, and adjusted old things of Mother’s to fit her. Mother was gone. We had lost her when our youngest sister was born. Stela was only five—easy to dress.


From the Hardcover edition.

Continues... 

Wild Jasmine by Bertrice Small

what can I say about this book?

This is one of the most mesmerizing books I have ever read and you would love it also. Jasmine former name Princess Yasaman was born of an english mother and an Indian Grand Mughal as a father. Her father kept her when her mother went back to england to get married to someone else as promised. However, at that point everything changes for her before she was of age to even realize. She had a beauty like no other; smart, strong, and charming. Her half-brother who wants to resume his incestuous relationship with her. This part of the book was the most terrifying because she loved that brother dearly,since she was a child and now she has aged 13 years; the year when a girl becomes a women in India, her beloved brother uses her naivety to seduce her. When her father realizes what is happening after a servant told him that he found the brother close to having sex with yasaman, she is married to  Prince Jamaal, a playboy at heart who changes for the love he has for yasaman, but he is brutally killed by a conspiracy set up by her half-brother who wants her. This was just the beginning for yasaman. she married, remarried, and traveled across the world to get away from her brother, but he is always a step behind her. As you go on through the story you will notice and actually feel her pain, her lost, and happiness. The author is trully amazing. when I was reading the book I felt as if I was in India; experiencing everything with yasaman. I felt like I was inside her room on that changeful night or the young women who was sadly waiting for her dead husband to return. This tale is beautiful and is waiting for you to pick it up and shed more tears than you have ever shed before. It might sound lovey dovey, but it is anything but. You guys must read it!!

Shadowland by Alyson Noel

ShadowLand is so intensifying and vibrantly undisputedly, hands down, thumbs up one of the best Young Adult books I have ever read. Though this is only the third installment to the series; the story unfolds with constant hooks; right when you think this book is going to end with a dreary conclusion it most certainly do not!!! I guess it should be expected when Ever founds out her boyfriend who claims to be her soul mate for the last 400 years when is immortal. Ever finds out about her immortality and that she also has been reincarnated for the last 400 years unlike her boyfriend Damen who cheated and drinks an elixir to keep him young, rejuvenated, and strong. They go through a series of ups and downs. Immortals rouges getting in the way of their infinite love ( Drina, Roman, etc) and the growing jealousies of friends. There is a bit more to how Ever turned out to be immortal with the help of her immortal boyfriend Damen when she was in the brink of death.

 This current installment to the Immortal Series is so mind consuming and a book you get pissed off at if you dont have the next part in tow. I went mad when I didn't have the last installment. It's different from the other books because, though we know about the immortality; it's more driven with the unknown and a hint of teenage drama, but it's more deeper and undeprived of the romance; with Ever searching for an antidote to the antidote that causes her and damen not able to be intimate, with the new boy who probably will get intimate with Ever, and Damens need to change and make up for all his past mistakes of  interfering with fate and being vain for those past 4 centuries.  Anyways you guys have got to read it!!!! It's amazing and I would tell you more ,but it would not be fair to our amazing author now would it?;)

Below is part 1 & 2 of the series:

                                       

                                       

The New World...Remake of Pocahantas

This is a picture from 'The New World'. It's the unanimated version of pocahantas and I can tell you guys I cried my eyes out. ( watch the movie with 'colors of the wind' music track you cry more). It's one of the most mesmerizing, exotic, and majestic films I have ever seen. When people think of pocahantas they don't think of the real person and historical figure whom broke the barrier for her people by going to england and standing as a represenative. They think of the cartoon, but her life was a heroic one and a short lived journey for she died at the age of 22. Many people claim to be related to her; people such as Nancy Reagan and Fashionista Pauline de something( I forgot). Take the initiative and read about her life. No one knows how she look like, but with out the thought of physical features, I believe  she was beautiful.

The Prophetess By Barbara Woods

Editorial Review:Feminist spirituality gets its own Celestine Prophecies, and the Vatican gets bashed, in Wood's new novel (after Virgins of Paradise, 1993). In December 1999, archeologist Catherine Alexander discovers in the Sinai desert six papyrus scrolls written in ancient Greek by a female leader of the early Christian church. The scrolls' reference to a Seventh Scroll, in which the secret to eternal life is supposedly revealed, convinces Alexander that her findings could revolutionize Christianity and undermine what she sees as the male-oriented authority of the Church. Determined to prevent suppression of the controversial writings, Alexander smuggles them back to California, where she is pursued by the Vatican, the Egyptian and U.S. governments, the media and Miles Havers, a ruthless computer software mogul who collects religious artifacts. When the handsome Father Michael Garibaldi saves Alexander from an assassin's bullet, and joins in her dangerous mission to find the ancient epistle, a romance blossoms, underscoring both parties' religious dilemmas. The action, bolstered by a clever if trendy use of the Internet, comes fast; but so does the preaching, which will alienate some readers with its anti-Church stance (if the scrolls predate St. Paul's writings, "the entire authority-base of the Catholic Church and the papacy would be blown out of the water!") and others with its undiscriminating theology ("As you believe, so shall it be"). Still others, however, will relish Wood's passionate New Age message, as well its Redfield-inspired packaging.