Hello Lovely Readers,
We are announcing the winners of the entire Blog Hop on the Entangled Teen Event – March 25th 9 – 10 pm EST. I’ll pull a name out of the hat and post it in the comments too.
I’m excited to be in EntangleTeen’s blog hop and can’t wait to see who drops by. All you have to do is show up, which you’ve already done. Thank you!
Each of the Blog stops features one of us Entangled Teen authors, and we all have something to give away to you, and maybe some news or excerpt from out latest books.
I’m offering a deleted scene from Crown of Bones, to introduce you to the art of divination, and to Ash, one of the heroes in The Bone Throwers series. As well, I’m giving away a $20 gift voucher from Amazon. All you have to do is say hello in the comments and you’re in the draw to win. Good luck!
So, pop into the comments and tell your friends. I’d love to hear what you’re reading atm, or maybe your favorite book cover so far this year. Your best or worst tarot reading? Or, just wave hi. All paths are good…
Don’t forget, there’s a deleted scene below to read, and maybe you’d like to have a go at throwing the bones yourself. Just be sure to visit all these other fabulous authors for their giveaways too! Hop along with me. This is going to be fun!
March 16 – Jus Accardo
March 16 – AK Wilder – you are here!
March 17 – Cookie O’Gorman
March 17 – Lindsey Duga
March 18 – Katie Delahanty
March 18 – T.H. Hernandez
March 19 – Chris Cannon
March 19 – Barb Han
March 20 – Lisa Brown Roberts
March 20 – Marlene Perez
March 21 – Pintip Dunn
March 22 – Brenda Drake
March 23 – Kelly Anne Blount
March 24 – Emily McKay
March 25 – Entangled Teen Facebook Event at 6 pm PST/9 pm EST
Winners will be revealed on March 25, at the Entangled Teen Facebook Event. It starts at 6 pm PST/9 pm PST. That’s March 26 at 12 pm Aus/AEDT.
Check Your Time Zone
LA – March 25 – 6 pm
NY – March 25 – 9 pm
LON – March 26 – 1 am
SYD – March 26 – 12 pm
…the Bone Thrower storms in, her black robe wafting, cowl up. She’s short, not much taller than me, but somehow able to fill the room, standing there with a heavy bag of bones over one shoulder.
“Where’s the child?” the old woman asks, letting down her cowl. White hair falls to her waist in a mass of wraps, feathers, braids and white bone beads. Her brown eyes pin me down, making me squirm. “I know this one.” Her thumb ring taps the edge of the table.
I know her too. She came to my house to throw the bones for me, to see if I could trial at the Sanctuary. And I could.
“There was potential, no mistake,” the Bone Thrower says. All eyes are on me again.
“The potential isn’t what we are questioning.”
I try to follow the conversation but am distracted. There it is! Blessed be the Path, her phantom wafts in and out of view, rippling around the edges of her robe in curtains of purple and green. The Auroras living and breathing in this room.
She claps her hands and the spell breaks like glass. “We’ll let the bones speak again.” With barely a glance at me, she rolls up her sleeves to the elbows. Those bangles! Are they carved from bones? One by one, she takes them off and stacks them to the side of the desk, but some remain, woven through her skin. “Clear me a space,” she says.
Brogal does, and stands back.
The Bone Thrower covers half the table with a black cloth and lights candles, arranging them around the edges. She rattles her bag. Everyone knows what’s in it, even me—one hundred and eight whistle bones, one for each nine rounds of the steps to enlightenment. What’s the question she asks? I didn’t hear.
A breeze comes in through the open door. It bends the flames over but doesn’t snuff them out. I smell the sea as the Bone Thrower’s phantom wisps like a shadow with a life of its own. I don’t want it to touch me, and it doesn’t. She keeps chanting as she sticks her long fingers into the bag and pulls out twelve whistle bones, one for each step.
They are shades of salt, sandstone and parchment, all different shapes from tiny slips of a whistle to long leg-bone flutes. The black-robe scoops them up and rattles them in her dry hands. Without warning, she tosses them onto the cloth. The flames jump, and the room holds its breath.
The Bone Thrower’s eyes narrow to slits and a rush of air escapes her mouth. “Call your recorder. This must be marked.”
That’s when they forget about me, and all start talking at once…