How has your week been? I feel like it has been ages since I posted last. School and my family life has been pretty hectic the last week so I do apologise for the lack of posts : but fear not, I do still live. Today’s Blitz is hosted by YA Bound Book Tours. Enjoy.
Wolves and Roses
Fairy Tales of the Magicorum, Book 1
by Christina Bauer
Genre: YA Paranormal
Release Date: October 31st 2017
Publishers: Monster House Books
Seventeen-year-old Bryar Rose has a problem. She’s descended from one of the three magical races—shifters, fairies, or witches. That makes her one of the Magicorum, and Magicorum always follow a fairy tale life template. In Bryar’s case, that template should be Sleeping Beauty.
“Should” being the key word.
Trouble is, Bryar is nowhere near the sleeping beauty life template. Not even close. She doesn’t like birds or woodland creatures. She can’t sing. And she certainly can’t stand Prince Philpot, the so-called “His Highness of Hedge Funds” that her aunties want her to marry. Even worse, Bryar’s having recurring dreams of a bad boy hottie and is obsessed with finding papyri from ancient Egypt. What’s up with that?
All Bryar wants is to attend a regular high school with normal humans and forget all about shifters, fairies, witches, and the curse that Colonel Mallory the Magnificent placed on her. And she might be able to do just that–if only she can just keep her head down until her eighteenth birthday when the spell that’s ruined her life goes buh-bye.
But that plan gets turned upside down when Bryar Rose meets Knox, the bad boy who’s literally from her dreams. Knox is a powerful werewolf, and his presence in her life changes everything, and not just because he makes her knees turn into Jell-O. If Bryar can’t figure out who—or what—she really is, it might cost both her and Knox their lives… as well as jeopardise the very nature of magic itself.
I wait in the bottom level of the Denarii League in Midtown Manhattan. As basements go, it’s not too bad. The space is snug and clean with concrete block walls, a linoleum floor, and hardly any cockroaches. For New York, that’s a big deal. I fidget on my chair. The plastic seat is so cockeyed my left butt cheek has gone numb. And that’s not the worst part of this situation.
Any minute now, my Magicorum Teen Therapy Group will begin. Yay.
The metal door slams open, and our group facilitator, Madame Grimoire, swishes into the room. As always, Madame looks like she fell out of a kitchen appliance ad from 1952. She’s middle-aged with wavy brown hair and perfect makeup. Her A-line dress is sky blue and stops mid-calf. She tops off the look with pearls, red lipstick, and white gloves. No, I am not kidding. White gloves.
I hate her. So much.
No one answers her. Looks like I’m not the only one who hates Madame.
After slipping onto her chair, Madame folds her hands neatly on her lap. “I am Madame Grimoire, your facilitator. If you were assigned to this group, that means you’re part of the Magicorum.”
I inwardly groan. Here she goes again. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve heard this spiel, Madame always gives the same speech.
“That means you’re one of the three magical races: shifters, witches, or fairies. In addition, you could be a non-magical human in their immediate family. But however you came to be classified as such, being a member of the Magicorum makes you a very rare commodity. Magic is disappearing from our world, and the Denarii League is committed to saving it.” Madame pulls a tablet from her pocket. “Now, let’s begin with roll call. Bryar Rose?”
I raise my pointer finger. “Here.”
“I’ve told you a million times. It’s Elle.”
I scope out Elle and smile. Today, she came to group dressed like a street urchin, complete with ratty blonde hair and rags. Huh. Elle must be working a new con that involves dressing like she’s homeless. All her scams are for good causes, though, so I shrug it off.
“Scarlett?” asks Madame.
Scarlett gets her name from the Red Riding Hood fairy tale. She’s got ebony-dark skin, a punk-rock wardrobe, and a firm commitment to avoid talking in group. That’s typical for werewolves, though. Weres are notorious for being silent, grouchy, and fashion forward.
“And last but not least, we have a new girl here.” Madame slaps on the fakest smile ever. “What’s your name?”
A long pause follows. When the girl speaks, the word comes out as a peep. “Avianna.” She has straight black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Considering her long dark dress and the crow perched on her shoulder, Avianna is definitely a witch.
“You’re new to group, Avianna.”
“How much do you know about what we do here?”
“Nothing.” Avianna’s big brown eyes seem to take up half her face. Poor thing is terrified.
“Why don’t I give you an example?”
My shoulders slump. Oh, damn. Madame always chooses me as her “example of why we’re here.” It’s super-embarrassing.
“Now.” Madame’s face beams with a sick sort of glee. “All the Magicorum have lives that follow a fairy tale template. Since you’re here, that means you’re failing miserably at that template. Now, who should I choose as an example?” Madame scans the room while tapping her chin.
Don’t say Bryar Rose. Don’t say Bryar Rose. Don’t say Bryar Rose.
Madame points right at my nose. “Let’s use Bryar Rose.”
She said it.
About the Author:
Christina Bauer knows how to tell stories about kick-ass women. In her best selling Angelbound series, the heroine is a part-demon girl who loves to fight in Purgatory’s Arena and falls in love with a part-angel prince. This young adult best seller has driven more than 500,000 ebook downloads and 9,000 reviews on Goodreads and retailers. It is now available as an audiobook on Audible and iTunes.
Bauer has also told the story of the Women’s March on Washington by leading PR efforts for the Massachusetts Chapter. Her pre-event press release—the only one sent out on a major wire service—resulted in more than 19,000 global impressions and redistribution by over 350 different media entities including the Associated Press.
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.
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Blog Tour Organised by:
I hope you liked this shortish blitz, I have a few reviews due in next week so stayed tuned for some good ones (hopefully) I hope you have a great week, month, year (just great times in general) See you soon.
Wednesday’s Word of the Week: Bawd.
Meaning: Old Scots word for the owner of a brothel. Its nice to say – especially with my scottish accent.
Thanks and Happy Reading,