Tampilkan postingan dengan label YA Bound Book Tours. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label YA Bound Book Tours. Tampilkan semua postingan


Title: The Ending Element: Calista
Author: Lorraine Koh
Genre: YA Fantasy

Calista Bloom never wanted to fight in the war and it has been five years since war waged over Kosmotopia. All because of a sword. Fair enough, the Astronblade is supposed to hold infinite power, that is, once it finds its one true owner. But every 18-year-old will need to join the military and Calista soon finds herself trying to awaken the Astronblade. Will this batch hold the Blade Bearer? Or will finding the Blade Bearer trigger the chain of events that will bring about the end of the world?






Image Credit: Jeff Mahad

Teaser 



Lorraine Koh, who also goes by the pen name, Raine Koh lives in sunny Singapore. She has written Munchy Isn't Everything and Pop Rock Love and is currently working on a new novel. Her hobbies include chasing stars, photographing them and travelling to see them.

Join her Goodreads Group Ask Lorraine Koh
Like her writing page on facebook! We Write Now !

The Ending Element: Calista by Lorraine Koh

Posted at  22.15 - by Unknown



Title: The Ending Element: Calista
Author: Lorraine Koh
Genre: YA Fantasy

Calista Bloom never wanted to fight in the war and it has been five years since war waged over Kosmotopia. All because of a sword. Fair enough, the Astronblade is supposed to hold infinite power, that is, once it finds its one true owner. But every 18-year-old will need to join the military and Calista soon finds herself trying to awaken the Astronblade. Will this batch hold the Blade Bearer? Or will finding the Blade Bearer trigger the chain of events that will bring about the end of the world?






Image Credit: Jeff Mahad

Teaser 



Lorraine Koh, who also goes by the pen name, Raine Koh lives in sunny Singapore. She has written Munchy Isn't Everything and Pop Rock Love and is currently working on a new novel. Her hobbies include chasing stars, photographing them and travelling to see them.

Join her Goodreads Group Ask Lorraine Koh
Like her writing page on facebook! We Write Now !


Title: The Black Lotus
Author: Claire Warner
Genre: Fantasy Romance

...though I would dearly love to play court to you, I would hurt you more than any other.

It is 1752.
The year that will change the life of heiress Melissa De Vire. As she makes her first fumbling steps into society, she meets the handsome young cad Justin Lestrade and his world tears her perceptions apart. For Justin is more than he appears and his secrets and enemies are manifold. Drawn irresistibly to him, she finds herself sinking into a realm of feuds, magic and old curses and her life will never again be the same.




Melissa glanced over at her would be saviour. He was dressed in everyday garb and had clearly not been to a ball that eve. His hair was without powder and his dark locks looked black in the bleaching light of the moon. The throbbing pain in her side reminded her of the damage done by Jane’s knitting needles and memories of her near fatal slide into sleep were fresh and gave her cause for concern. Also she could see Montjoy in the distance, what if he returned to bother her further?

He caught her hesitance and leant forward. “I promise you will be safe from him,” He nodded across at the riders and smiled reassuringly.

“Very well Lord Lestrade. I will accompany you,” She noted, watching as his face crinkled with pleasure as she spoke the words. With exquisite courtesy he held out a hand and helped her carefully up the steps and into his coach. After a moment, Jane followed reluctantly. Franklin shut the door behind the maid with a heavy thump, before climbing up and taking the empty footman’s position on the rear of the coach.

Montjoy moved off, losing interest in the group behind him. For a moment the muffled figure stayed in position, his eyes following the scene closer. As she clasped hold of Justin’s arm, the figure clicked to his horse and galloped away, the cloud of dust following slowly behind.

Coll clicked to the horses and slowly the coach turned in the road, leaving the ruined carriage where it lay. Soon they were flying along the road, towards the sleeping hamlets and their estates beyond.

Melissa sat back on the padded seating and stared across at Justin, barely making out his expression in the dim light. Silently he reached forward and handed her a travelling rug, which she tucked carefully about her legs. “Thank you,” It felt like an inadequate response, she was clearly drawing him away from his evening.

“It was the least I could do. I could not leave you there at the mercy of highwaymen or Montjoy, I saw him on the road.” He answered tersely, his eyes on her. She could feel them in the dark scoring into her soul. Beside her she could feel the tense body of Jane as she kept her eyes on Justin, playing the chaperone for all she was worth.

“Still, thank you. I’m sorry to keep you from your evening.”

“Do not concern yourself,” Feather soft and gentle, his words mollified her and she settled back, feeling better about the situation. “I’m glad to have been of service, particularly as Lord Montjoy appeared to be making a nuisance of himself.”

Melissa smiled and thanked him again. “So how did you come to be travelling home without your family?” He asked politely, the cushions creaking slightly as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

The curtains were half closed and even with the moonlight, his face was hidden from view. Reaching down, he plucked a fleck of dust from his breeches. Holding it in the air for a movement as though inspecting it, he smiled enigmatically before he waved it free. Hazel eyes watched the fluff drift lazily to the carriage floor, before he returned his gaze to Melissa and took in the damage. Her dark hair hung in mussed strands, the powder shaken from the long tresses in the accident. A smudge of dirt on her nose, coupled with the state of her dress made her appear vulnerable, a tattered rose lost in the dark. His fingers itched to reach forward and brush the smudge from her face. Controlling the impulse, he arranged his hands carefully on his knees and returned his attention to the conversation.

“I left Lady Shearingham’s ball early,” Her voice was polite yet shaky, a remnant of the nasty tumble she had taken in the coach. “I had a headache.”

“Ahh,” Justin replied, his face unreadable from the shadows. He watched her though; she could not miss the pressure of his eyes upon her.

It should have made her uncomfortable, the frankness of his gaze on her, yet despite the odd twinge, she felt safe in his company. The tenderness he showed as he had helped her into the carriage had impressed itself on her mind. Despite their first meeting, she knew that Justin Lestrade possessed a heart somewhere. They lapsed into silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to each other, strangers that they were. Jane had returned to her knitting. She had picked up a spare set of needles from her basket and the clicking sound they made sounded loud in the carriage.

“Why were you not at the ball?” Melissa broke the silence boldly, ignoring the hiss of surprise from Jane at her elbow.

It was a direct question, one that should be danced about or garnered from friends. It was not done to ask outright news from a stranger, yet she could not keep quiet. She wanted to know if the rumours were true and this was the best way to go about it. Her green eyes stared straight at him and she could almost feel him smiling at her boldness in the dark corner opposite.

“I had a visit from Lord Malison,” He answered directly, with no hint of hesitation. If she could be direct then so could he. “I was given to understand that I was responsible for his daughter’s demise,” A note of bitter anger entered his voice as he spoke. “Since I am clearly a cad, then I must also be a murderer,”

Melissa stared at him, trying to find his face in the darkness before she answered.

“I don’t think you are a murderer,”

“Really?” A note of incredulity entered his voice as he finally leant forward, his eyes shimmering with pent up emotion. “How would you know?” A mocking quality flowed through his tones and she shivered as the notes stroked down her spine.

“I don’t, I just feel that you aren’t,”

“Then you don’t know, you only believe,” He settled back against the chair, his face stormy in the darkness. The air in the carriage became still, Jane watched carefully from the seat opposite, her placid face still and watchful. Throughout the hushed stillness, the sound of wheels sounded loud, almost deafening as they looked at each other. His fingers were curled lightly on his knees and she regarded the elegant digits with a detached feeling.

“I could be anything and you would never know,” His voice was soft, almost hushed and full of a bitter anger that she felt more than heard. In the gloom of the carriage, he became as a statue, immobile and quiet, save for his eyes which searched out her face with an intensity she found unnerving. For several moments, tense quiet reigned in the carriage, save for Jane’s needles and the noise of wheel on stone.


When I was a child, I made up games and characters when my sister and I played with dolls. As I grew older, I would make up scenarios and scenes, fully intending to write them down but never finding the time. In my late teens, I discovered the world of role playing and settled into an avid ‘geeky’ life of D&D, comics, sci-fi and fantasy fiction. Years passed and I finally gave voice to the stories in my head. I write romance, fantasy, action and adventure. I love tales of steampunk and history, tales of magical powers and dark curses lurking in the shadows. Though The Black Lotus is not my first attempt at a novel, it is the first I have finished.

And some fun facts about me:

I sew.

My favourite Disney film is Atlantis.

I’ve been a film extra and stood 5 feet away from Sam Rockwell.

Babylon 5 is my fave sci-fi show.

I cried at the end of Toy Story 3.

The Black Lotus by Claire Warner

Posted at  10.51 - by Unknown


Title: The Black Lotus
Author: Claire Warner
Genre: Fantasy Romance

...though I would dearly love to play court to you, I would hurt you more than any other.

It is 1752.
The year that will change the life of heiress Melissa De Vire. As she makes her first fumbling steps into society, she meets the handsome young cad Justin Lestrade and his world tears her perceptions apart. For Justin is more than he appears and his secrets and enemies are manifold. Drawn irresistibly to him, she finds herself sinking into a realm of feuds, magic and old curses and her life will never again be the same.




Melissa glanced over at her would be saviour. He was dressed in everyday garb and had clearly not been to a ball that eve. His hair was without powder and his dark locks looked black in the bleaching light of the moon. The throbbing pain in her side reminded her of the damage done by Jane’s knitting needles and memories of her near fatal slide into sleep were fresh and gave her cause for concern. Also she could see Montjoy in the distance, what if he returned to bother her further?

He caught her hesitance and leant forward. “I promise you will be safe from him,” He nodded across at the riders and smiled reassuringly.

“Very well Lord Lestrade. I will accompany you,” She noted, watching as his face crinkled with pleasure as she spoke the words. With exquisite courtesy he held out a hand and helped her carefully up the steps and into his coach. After a moment, Jane followed reluctantly. Franklin shut the door behind the maid with a heavy thump, before climbing up and taking the empty footman’s position on the rear of the coach.

Montjoy moved off, losing interest in the group behind him. For a moment the muffled figure stayed in position, his eyes following the scene closer. As she clasped hold of Justin’s arm, the figure clicked to his horse and galloped away, the cloud of dust following slowly behind.

Coll clicked to the horses and slowly the coach turned in the road, leaving the ruined carriage where it lay. Soon they were flying along the road, towards the sleeping hamlets and their estates beyond.

Melissa sat back on the padded seating and stared across at Justin, barely making out his expression in the dim light. Silently he reached forward and handed her a travelling rug, which she tucked carefully about her legs. “Thank you,” It felt like an inadequate response, she was clearly drawing him away from his evening.

“It was the least I could do. I could not leave you there at the mercy of highwaymen or Montjoy, I saw him on the road.” He answered tersely, his eyes on her. She could feel them in the dark scoring into her soul. Beside her she could feel the tense body of Jane as she kept her eyes on Justin, playing the chaperone for all she was worth.

“Still, thank you. I’m sorry to keep you from your evening.”

“Do not concern yourself,” Feather soft and gentle, his words mollified her and she settled back, feeling better about the situation. “I’m glad to have been of service, particularly as Lord Montjoy appeared to be making a nuisance of himself.”

Melissa smiled and thanked him again. “So how did you come to be travelling home without your family?” He asked politely, the cushions creaking slightly as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

The curtains were half closed and even with the moonlight, his face was hidden from view. Reaching down, he plucked a fleck of dust from his breeches. Holding it in the air for a movement as though inspecting it, he smiled enigmatically before he waved it free. Hazel eyes watched the fluff drift lazily to the carriage floor, before he returned his gaze to Melissa and took in the damage. Her dark hair hung in mussed strands, the powder shaken from the long tresses in the accident. A smudge of dirt on her nose, coupled with the state of her dress made her appear vulnerable, a tattered rose lost in the dark. His fingers itched to reach forward and brush the smudge from her face. Controlling the impulse, he arranged his hands carefully on his knees and returned his attention to the conversation.

“I left Lady Shearingham’s ball early,” Her voice was polite yet shaky, a remnant of the nasty tumble she had taken in the coach. “I had a headache.”

“Ahh,” Justin replied, his face unreadable from the shadows. He watched her though; she could not miss the pressure of his eyes upon her.

It should have made her uncomfortable, the frankness of his gaze on her, yet despite the odd twinge, she felt safe in his company. The tenderness he showed as he had helped her into the carriage had impressed itself on her mind. Despite their first meeting, she knew that Justin Lestrade possessed a heart somewhere. They lapsed into silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to each other, strangers that they were. Jane had returned to her knitting. She had picked up a spare set of needles from her basket and the clicking sound they made sounded loud in the carriage.

“Why were you not at the ball?” Melissa broke the silence boldly, ignoring the hiss of surprise from Jane at her elbow.

It was a direct question, one that should be danced about or garnered from friends. It was not done to ask outright news from a stranger, yet she could not keep quiet. She wanted to know if the rumours were true and this was the best way to go about it. Her green eyes stared straight at him and she could almost feel him smiling at her boldness in the dark corner opposite.

“I had a visit from Lord Malison,” He answered directly, with no hint of hesitation. If she could be direct then so could he. “I was given to understand that I was responsible for his daughter’s demise,” A note of bitter anger entered his voice as he spoke. “Since I am clearly a cad, then I must also be a murderer,”

Melissa stared at him, trying to find his face in the darkness before she answered.

“I don’t think you are a murderer,”

“Really?” A note of incredulity entered his voice as he finally leant forward, his eyes shimmering with pent up emotion. “How would you know?” A mocking quality flowed through his tones and she shivered as the notes stroked down her spine.

“I don’t, I just feel that you aren’t,”

“Then you don’t know, you only believe,” He settled back against the chair, his face stormy in the darkness. The air in the carriage became still, Jane watched carefully from the seat opposite, her placid face still and watchful. Throughout the hushed stillness, the sound of wheels sounded loud, almost deafening as they looked at each other. His fingers were curled lightly on his knees and she regarded the elegant digits with a detached feeling.

“I could be anything and you would never know,” His voice was soft, almost hushed and full of a bitter anger that she felt more than heard. In the gloom of the carriage, he became as a statue, immobile and quiet, save for his eyes which searched out her face with an intensity she found unnerving. For several moments, tense quiet reigned in the carriage, save for Jane’s needles and the noise of wheel on stone.


When I was a child, I made up games and characters when my sister and I played with dolls. As I grew older, I would make up scenarios and scenes, fully intending to write them down but never finding the time. In my late teens, I discovered the world of role playing and settled into an avid ‘geeky’ life of D&D, comics, sci-fi and fantasy fiction. Years passed and I finally gave voice to the stories in my head. I write romance, fantasy, action and adventure. I love tales of steampunk and history, tales of magical powers and dark curses lurking in the shadows. Though The Black Lotus is not my first attempt at a novel, it is the first I have finished.

And some fun facts about me:

I sew.

My favourite Disney film is Atlantis.

I’ve been a film extra and stood 5 feet away from Sam Rockwell.

Babylon 5 is my fave sci-fi show.

I cried at the end of Toy Story 3.




Title: Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series
Author: Pauline Gruber
Genre: YA Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Dragonfly Ink, Ltd

Good versus evil just got even more complicated...

Being half-witch/half-demon and dating Marcus, a gargoyle, is complicated enough for Lucy. She can almost tolerate Jude, her demon father, implementing demon training. 

But when Marcus’s family arrives in Chicago, her world begins to crumble. Marcus's mother wants him to return to the gargoyle clan where he belongs; his father wants Marcus to help him kill Jude. There’s one very major problem with this: if Jude dies, Lucy dies.

Marcus works with other supernaturals to help save Jude and Lucy. Meanwhile, Lucy has her own plan and with the aid of a surprise newcomer, seeks help from the most unlikely—and dangerous—source.





Jude balances a fresh fireball in the palm of his hand. He lobs it at me, and I hold my hand up. I envision my hand as a brick wall. Big, strong, impenetrable. I imagine it swelling, doubling in size and strength. As the fireball comes within six inches of my hand, I step toward it and lob it back to Jude. The fireball moves toward Jude, but sputters out before it reaches him.

“Pretty lame if you ask me,” Dylan calls out.

“Funny thing, no one asked you!” I snap.

“Again,” Jude calls out. “This time put some power behind it.” We repeat it again. I struggle to ignore Dylan’s taunts. Idiot.

What is it with him? Why won’t Jude and Henry reprimand him? I wait until the fireball is two inches from me then whack it back to Jude hard. He lunges to the left to avoid being hit.

“Nice job, Lucy,” Henry says.

“For a girl,” Dylan adds.

I spin around and throw a fireball at him. It slams against his shoulder. He tamps out the flames and flashes a big grin my way. “Is that all you’ve got?”

I take a step toward him. “Keep it up. There’s more where that came from.”

Dylan laughs. “You’ve got nothing. Without Daddy to protect you—and everyone else—you’re nothing.”


Pauline Gruber is a self-professed music junkie, cat wrangler and travel nut. She went to Paris in the 90’s where she discovered a love of three things: croissants, old cathedrals and gargoyles. Deciding that the paranormal world could use a new kind of hero, Pauline translated her fascination with the protective gargoyle into a suspenseful love story. She is the author of the young adult series, The Girl and the Raven, The Girl and the Gargoyle and the forthcoming novel, The Girl and the Demon. By day, Pauline is a legal assistant for a Chicago law firm where she steals identities and incorporates them into her books. If you tell anyone, she’ll deny, deny, deny. Pauline lives outside of Chicago with her precocious black cats.


Girl and the Gargoyle by Pauline Gruber

Posted at  21.00 - by Unknown




Title: Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series
Author: Pauline Gruber
Genre: YA Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Dragonfly Ink, Ltd

Good versus evil just got even more complicated...

Being half-witch/half-demon and dating Marcus, a gargoyle, is complicated enough for Lucy. She can almost tolerate Jude, her demon father, implementing demon training. 

But when Marcus’s family arrives in Chicago, her world begins to crumble. Marcus's mother wants him to return to the gargoyle clan where he belongs; his father wants Marcus to help him kill Jude. There’s one very major problem with this: if Jude dies, Lucy dies.

Marcus works with other supernaturals to help save Jude and Lucy. Meanwhile, Lucy has her own plan and with the aid of a surprise newcomer, seeks help from the most unlikely—and dangerous—source.





Jude balances a fresh fireball in the palm of his hand. He lobs it at me, and I hold my hand up. I envision my hand as a brick wall. Big, strong, impenetrable. I imagine it swelling, doubling in size and strength. As the fireball comes within six inches of my hand, I step toward it and lob it back to Jude. The fireball moves toward Jude, but sputters out before it reaches him.

“Pretty lame if you ask me,” Dylan calls out.

“Funny thing, no one asked you!” I snap.

“Again,” Jude calls out. “This time put some power behind it.” We repeat it again. I struggle to ignore Dylan’s taunts. Idiot.

What is it with him? Why won’t Jude and Henry reprimand him? I wait until the fireball is two inches from me then whack it back to Jude hard. He lunges to the left to avoid being hit.

“Nice job, Lucy,” Henry says.

“For a girl,” Dylan adds.

I spin around and throw a fireball at him. It slams against his shoulder. He tamps out the flames and flashes a big grin my way. “Is that all you’ve got?”

I take a step toward him. “Keep it up. There’s more where that came from.”

Dylan laughs. “You’ve got nothing. Without Daddy to protect you—and everyone else—you’re nothing.”


Pauline Gruber is a self-professed music junkie, cat wrangler and travel nut. She went to Paris in the 90’s where she discovered a love of three things: croissants, old cathedrals and gargoyles. Deciding that the paranormal world could use a new kind of hero, Pauline translated her fascination with the protective gargoyle into a suspenseful love story. She is the author of the young adult series, The Girl and the Raven, The Girl and the Gargoyle and the forthcoming novel, The Girl and the Demon. By day, Pauline is a legal assistant for a Chicago law firm where she steals identities and incorporates them into her books. If you tell anyone, she’ll deny, deny, deny. Pauline lives outside of Chicago with her precocious black cats.



Title: Earth's End (Air Awakens #3)
Author: Elise Kova 
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: February 11, 2016

A woman awoken in air, a soldier forged by fire, a weapon risen from blood.

Vhalla Yarl has made it to the warfront in the North. Forged by blood and fire, she has steeled her heart for the final battle of the Solaris Empire’s conquest. The choices before Vhalla are no longer servitude or freedom, they are servitude or death. The stakes have never been higher as the Emperor maintains his iron grip on her fate, holding everything Vhalla still has left to lose in the balance.

Book Three of the Air Awakens Series





Vhalla snapped the reins and dug her heels into Baston’s sides, forcing him into an all-out run. From above, she heard the shouts of her waking enemy.

Thick and melodic calls erupted in the night, a language completely foreign to Vhalla’s ears. She didn’t have to know the words to know they weren’t friendly, so Vhalla pushed harder, pressing herself to Baston. Vhalla took a breath as she heard arrows being knocked overhead.

The sound of bowstrings being drawn in mass made gooseflesh dot her arms. Another shout, a single word and arrows cut through the air, determined to rain death around her. Even if Vhalla was certain her chainmail would shield her, the horse was completely unarmored; if Baston died, she was as good as dead. Vhalla twisted in her saddle, sweeping a hand through the air. The curtain of wind sent the arrows scattering harmlessly.

They shouted in protest, angst-ridden that she continued on unscathed.

The second assault came faster and hastened Vhalla’s mounting frustration. She had to be out of their range soon. More lights began to blaze above and behind her, casting the ground below in a faint glow. The light illuminated the edge of the city, and Vhalla was forced to stake her life on the hope that once she was out they wouldn’t catch her.

The arrows soared through the air once more and Vhalla twisted, knocking them away in mass. She expected to hear a cry for a third assault, but instead what she heard was even more disheartening. Two words that someone said in a thick Southern Common.

“Wind Demon!”

She became their prey. The sound of thundering hooves came from the direction of where the city first began.

Vhalla crossed under the edge of the city, plunging into the welcoming darkness. Had it been a day ago, Vhalla would not have given those riders a moment’s worry. Baston would outrun any normal horse, plus with her wind he was faster than thunder across the sky. But Baston had been ridden hard with only a brief rest.

Vhalla shifted her vision and peered over her shoulder. In the distance she saw them, riding relentlessly after her.

Sweating, panting, clutching the reins with white knuckles, Vhalla pushed all her energy into the wind at Baston’s and her back. More—they both had to give more. In her blind determination she almost missed the whiz of an arrow through the air.

Vhalla thrust out her arm and stopped the arrow midflight. She closed her fist and threw her arm backwards. The arrow turned and sped back at its original owner. Vhalla watched it soar straight into the Northerner’s eye, the one she pointed a finger at. The man slumped, and then fell off his saddle. She swallowed hard, looking away as the others’ cries grew louder.

Eyes, she would always go for the eyes. Whether someone was or wasn’t a Groundbreaker with stone-like skin was a risk she couldn’t take; she wouldn’t have many shots. Another archer held his bow, waiting for a different opportunity to take his chance.

Baston was already breathing heavy, and Vhalla knew she had to get them off her tail. The four riders behind her rode on fresh mounts and had the advantage of their night’s worth of sleep. Vhalla turned and pointed a finger. Sweeping her hand upward, an arrow freed itself from the other archer’s quiver. With a twist of her wrist, and the keen focus of a killer, Vhalla sent it into the unsuspecting Northerner’s eye.

One of the remaining two riders fell away as they swerved through the trees, his companion pushing forward. As the man swung wide, Vhalla realized they were trying to flank her. Vhalla grabbed for the dagger strapped to her wrist, sending it straight for his eye.

In the process, the woman rider had caught up with Baston, raising a wickedly curved blade toward his haunches. Vhalla threw out her other arm, sending the rider toppling head over heels. It wasn’t chance that the assailant’s blade slit her wielder’s throat in the fall.

Vhalla held out an expectant palm, her own dagger returning to it after a moment.

Wiping the blood on her thigh, she quickly sheathed it against her wrist before grabbing the reins once more. Vhalla swallowed a cry for speed; shouting at the horse would not make it go faster. It would only further compromise her position.

Vhalla pressed her lips together, forcing herself to keep her composure. It was not the first person she had killed. She had killed on the Night of Fire and Wind, she had killed the man who had murdered Larel, and she had killed with her bare hands at the Pass.

What had sunk deep into her bones was the acceptance of what she must do. It was knowing she had become a killer. It was how easy it was for her to slay her foes without even thinking of each of them as a whole person that showed Vhalla she’d gone far down a path she’d never wanted. They were entities, enemies, barriers, but they weren’t human.

Distracted by her inner conflict, Vhalla was caught completely off-guard by the first assault coming from the trees. A Groundbreaker swung down from the air, bringing his sword against the back of her head. Vhalla attempted to dodge at the last second, but it was too late. The blade slipped off her chainmail but it left her vision blurred and her ears ringing.

She blinked, trying to sort her senses as she pushed Baston onward, putting the assailant behind them. Groundbreakers jumped from limb to limb in the trees above her—free and fearless. Vines came to life to meet their extended hands, allowing them to soar through the air. With a twist or a tug, their lifeline shrunk back, curling around branches to pull them upward.

She wanted to feel amazed; perhaps she would have, if these people weren’t out to kill her. Another swung low, and Vhalla dropped off to the side of the saddle to dodge. Righting herself, Vhalla redrew her dagger in one quick motion as a third swung forward to attack. She sent the blade soaring through the vine the Groundbreaker held.

The man fell through the sky; Vhalla’s mind betrayed her, showing a different body plummeting through the air.

With a growl, she turned her blade to the next Northerner she saw, relying on the same tactic. She would show them why one did not hang above the head of the Windwalker. The other body fell with a sickening thud, and Vhalla left them behind her. With a twitch of her wrist, her blade returned to her hand.

Baston’s pace had slowed, and Vhalla snapped his reins again. This was the first time the beast did not heed her command, and she felt uneasiness settle across her.

Five Northerners still jumped from tree to tree overhead as dawn began to fade into early morning. Vhalla wondered if they were biding their time for rider and mount to tire. If she were they, she’d do the same thing. Baston’s sides heaved with exhaustion.

Their presence began to wear on Vhalla, and she watched them with bated breath, waiting for the next assault. Another hour passed and Baston slowed to a trot; she expected this to be the moment they attacked. But the Northerners held fast, following from welcoming branch to welcoming branch, each bent to meet their feet and hands.

They were toying with her, like cats with a mouse.


Elise Kova has always had a passion for storytelling. She wrote her first novella, a high-fantasy, in sixth grade. Over the years she's honed her love of literature with everything from fantasy to romance, science fiction to mystery, and whatever else catches her eye.

Elise lives in Saint Petersburg, Florida, where she's currently working on the next installment in her debut YA fantasy series: Air Awakens. She enjoys video games, anime, table-top role playing games, and many other forms of "geekdom." She loves talking with fans on Twitter (@EliseKova) and Facebook (/AuthorEliseKova). Visit her website, EliseKova.com/, for news and extras about her books!



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Earth's End by Elise Kova

Posted at  21.00 - by Unknown


Title: Earth's End (Air Awakens #3)
Author: Elise Kova 
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: February 11, 2016

A woman awoken in air, a soldier forged by fire, a weapon risen from blood.

Vhalla Yarl has made it to the warfront in the North. Forged by blood and fire, she has steeled her heart for the final battle of the Solaris Empire’s conquest. The choices before Vhalla are no longer servitude or freedom, they are servitude or death. The stakes have never been higher as the Emperor maintains his iron grip on her fate, holding everything Vhalla still has left to lose in the balance.

Book Three of the Air Awakens Series





Vhalla snapped the reins and dug her heels into Baston’s sides, forcing him into an all-out run. From above, she heard the shouts of her waking enemy.

Thick and melodic calls erupted in the night, a language completely foreign to Vhalla’s ears. She didn’t have to know the words to know they weren’t friendly, so Vhalla pushed harder, pressing herself to Baston. Vhalla took a breath as she heard arrows being knocked overhead.

The sound of bowstrings being drawn in mass made gooseflesh dot her arms. Another shout, a single word and arrows cut through the air, determined to rain death around her. Even if Vhalla was certain her chainmail would shield her, the horse was completely unarmored; if Baston died, she was as good as dead. Vhalla twisted in her saddle, sweeping a hand through the air. The curtain of wind sent the arrows scattering harmlessly.

They shouted in protest, angst-ridden that she continued on unscathed.

The second assault came faster and hastened Vhalla’s mounting frustration. She had to be out of their range soon. More lights began to blaze above and behind her, casting the ground below in a faint glow. The light illuminated the edge of the city, and Vhalla was forced to stake her life on the hope that once she was out they wouldn’t catch her.

The arrows soared through the air once more and Vhalla twisted, knocking them away in mass. She expected to hear a cry for a third assault, but instead what she heard was even more disheartening. Two words that someone said in a thick Southern Common.

“Wind Demon!”

She became their prey. The sound of thundering hooves came from the direction of where the city first began.

Vhalla crossed under the edge of the city, plunging into the welcoming darkness. Had it been a day ago, Vhalla would not have given those riders a moment’s worry. Baston would outrun any normal horse, plus with her wind he was faster than thunder across the sky. But Baston had been ridden hard with only a brief rest.

Vhalla shifted her vision and peered over her shoulder. In the distance she saw them, riding relentlessly after her.

Sweating, panting, clutching the reins with white knuckles, Vhalla pushed all her energy into the wind at Baston’s and her back. More—they both had to give more. In her blind determination she almost missed the whiz of an arrow through the air.

Vhalla thrust out her arm and stopped the arrow midflight. She closed her fist and threw her arm backwards. The arrow turned and sped back at its original owner. Vhalla watched it soar straight into the Northerner’s eye, the one she pointed a finger at. The man slumped, and then fell off his saddle. She swallowed hard, looking away as the others’ cries grew louder.

Eyes, she would always go for the eyes. Whether someone was or wasn’t a Groundbreaker with stone-like skin was a risk she couldn’t take; she wouldn’t have many shots. Another archer held his bow, waiting for a different opportunity to take his chance.

Baston was already breathing heavy, and Vhalla knew she had to get them off her tail. The four riders behind her rode on fresh mounts and had the advantage of their night’s worth of sleep. Vhalla turned and pointed a finger. Sweeping her hand upward, an arrow freed itself from the other archer’s quiver. With a twist of her wrist, and the keen focus of a killer, Vhalla sent it into the unsuspecting Northerner’s eye.

One of the remaining two riders fell away as they swerved through the trees, his companion pushing forward. As the man swung wide, Vhalla realized they were trying to flank her. Vhalla grabbed for the dagger strapped to her wrist, sending it straight for his eye.

In the process, the woman rider had caught up with Baston, raising a wickedly curved blade toward his haunches. Vhalla threw out her other arm, sending the rider toppling head over heels. It wasn’t chance that the assailant’s blade slit her wielder’s throat in the fall.

Vhalla held out an expectant palm, her own dagger returning to it after a moment.

Wiping the blood on her thigh, she quickly sheathed it against her wrist before grabbing the reins once more. Vhalla swallowed a cry for speed; shouting at the horse would not make it go faster. It would only further compromise her position.

Vhalla pressed her lips together, forcing herself to keep her composure. It was not the first person she had killed. She had killed on the Night of Fire and Wind, she had killed the man who had murdered Larel, and she had killed with her bare hands at the Pass.

What had sunk deep into her bones was the acceptance of what she must do. It was knowing she had become a killer. It was how easy it was for her to slay her foes without even thinking of each of them as a whole person that showed Vhalla she’d gone far down a path she’d never wanted. They were entities, enemies, barriers, but they weren’t human.

Distracted by her inner conflict, Vhalla was caught completely off-guard by the first assault coming from the trees. A Groundbreaker swung down from the air, bringing his sword against the back of her head. Vhalla attempted to dodge at the last second, but it was too late. The blade slipped off her chainmail but it left her vision blurred and her ears ringing.

She blinked, trying to sort her senses as she pushed Baston onward, putting the assailant behind them. Groundbreakers jumped from limb to limb in the trees above her—free and fearless. Vines came to life to meet their extended hands, allowing them to soar through the air. With a twist or a tug, their lifeline shrunk back, curling around branches to pull them upward.

She wanted to feel amazed; perhaps she would have, if these people weren’t out to kill her. Another swung low, and Vhalla dropped off to the side of the saddle to dodge. Righting herself, Vhalla redrew her dagger in one quick motion as a third swung forward to attack. She sent the blade soaring through the vine the Groundbreaker held.

The man fell through the sky; Vhalla’s mind betrayed her, showing a different body plummeting through the air.

With a growl, she turned her blade to the next Northerner she saw, relying on the same tactic. She would show them why one did not hang above the head of the Windwalker. The other body fell with a sickening thud, and Vhalla left them behind her. With a twitch of her wrist, her blade returned to her hand.

Baston’s pace had slowed, and Vhalla snapped his reins again. This was the first time the beast did not heed her command, and she felt uneasiness settle across her.

Five Northerners still jumped from tree to tree overhead as dawn began to fade into early morning. Vhalla wondered if they were biding their time for rider and mount to tire. If she were they, she’d do the same thing. Baston’s sides heaved with exhaustion.

Their presence began to wear on Vhalla, and she watched them with bated breath, waiting for the next assault. Another hour passed and Baston slowed to a trot; she expected this to be the moment they attacked. But the Northerners held fast, following from welcoming branch to welcoming branch, each bent to meet their feet and hands.

They were toying with her, like cats with a mouse.


Elise Kova has always had a passion for storytelling. She wrote her first novella, a high-fantasy, in sixth grade. Over the years she's honed her love of literature with everything from fantasy to romance, science fiction to mystery, and whatever else catches her eye.

Elise lives in Saint Petersburg, Florida, where she's currently working on the next installment in her debut YA fantasy series: Air Awakens. She enjoys video games, anime, table-top role playing games, and many other forms of "geekdom." She loves talking with fans on Twitter (@EliseKova) and Facebook (/AuthorEliseKova). Visit her website, EliseKova.com/, for news and extras about her books!



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