Book Blitz: Sugar Skulls by Glenn Dallas & Lisa Mantchev @Glennmandirect @lisamantchev @XpressoReads @XpressoTours #XpressoBookTours

Sugar Skulls
Glenn Dallas & Lisa Mantchev
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: November 10th 2015
Genres: Dystopia, New Adult, Science Fiction

Welcome to Cyrene, a city where energy is currency and music is the lifeblood of its young citizens. Everyone lives on the grid, and the residents of the world's largest playground are encouraged to pursue every physical and emotional pleasure imaginable.
Vee is the lead singer of the Sugar Skulls, an all-girl band that is Corporate's newest pet project. Micah haunts the city like a ghost after an overdose of a deadly illegal street drug knocks him off the grid. When Micah and Vee forge an immediate, undeniable connection, their troubled worlds collide.
Trading concert stages for Cyrene's rooftops and back alleys, they have to evade vicious thugs and Vee's possessive manager as they unravel the mysteries connected to their dark pasts. And before the curtain falls, Micah and Vee will bring the city to its knees in their desperate bid for love, home, and a future together.

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EXCERPT:

V

The girl in the mirror is an undead supermodel in search of a catwalk. It's the handiwork of the new styling team Corporate brought in to deal with my hair and paint my face and glue sequins to my eyelids and shove in the black-light contacts after the old team quit.
Not that I'm admitting I had anything to do with them unceremoniously packing their kits and leaving before the last show. Better to point the finger at Jax.
In the group, Jax is "the crazy one." Damon recruited her a year ago, just before her eighteenth birthday, and she's driven every styling team we've had batshit insane with her demands.
"Spiderwebs," she decides for her face paint tonight, then points her index fingers at a case of skunk-striped bedhead so legendary, it looks like mice have nested in it. "Just don't touch the 'do."
There's a continuous rumble coming from the front of the house: newbies, fresh off the nanotech install and frothing at the mouth to get a taste of everything Cyrene has to offer. The mistress of ceremonies appears a few minutes later, hovering around the edges of my mirror like a moth about to get bug-zapped, makeup already settling into creases she thinks no one else can see. Hellcat Maggie drones on for a bit, her words painted in every shade of predictable monotony.
Eyes glued to the set list on her laptop, short hair spiked and pink, Sasha nods and makes understanding noises without really listening. Five months back, Damon pulled her from outside Cyrene, where everything is workaday business as usual, melting polar ice caps and recycling and talking heads, minimum-wage jobs and Wall Street assholes. She told me he offered a considerable chunk of cash to her poor-as-dirt family in exchange for a three-year contract capitalizing on her sound design and computer skills. Means Sasha got to leapfrog over a hundred thousand or more eager applicants all clamoring to get into the city, but instead of acting like a badass, she's more like a puppy that might pee on the rug.
She and Jax are the same age, but you'd never guess it, because Sasha is "the nice one."
And me? Well, I guess that makes me "the bitch." Like now, instead of joining in Jax's preshow pill binge or Sasha's obsessive run-throughs of the set list, I hug Little Dead Thing and wish everyone would just shut their cakeholes. He understands my mood, curling up in a tight fur-splotched ball in my lap, purring like a rusted-out lawn mower engine. Sasha dragged this sorry excuse for a cat in off the street a couple months back. He'd almost immediately started trailing after me, gratitude be damned, yowling at doors closed between us and shredding furniture when left behind at the Loft. Just easier to bring him along, a freaky little mascot who leaves hairs all over my robe.
But I banish him to a dark corner before getting dressed. Fuck-me wardrobe. Heels so tall, I prance instead of walking through the dim red lights in the wings. Corseted waist, narrow skirt, a thousand pounds of hand-sewn beads catching the light when I step onstage. The dress was a class-me-up gift from Damon: vintage and gorgeous and beyond expensive.
I'd taken a switchblade to it, because tatters suit me better.
Still miles away from comfortable, I try to draw a deeper breath than the corset allows, and it catches in my throat. I shouldn't be stressing. Tonight's just a warm-up for the big to-do at the Dome. Three days and counting. Have to test the set list and the newest energy-grabbing thrum-collectors Corporate's eager to roll out citywide.
Every time I blow up one of the old ones, it knocks me off the grid. Cue a mind-scrubbing and a nanotech reboot. I'm tired of waking up as a brand-new Vee. I'd like to keep this version of myself, even if that means making nicey-nice with the equipment.
Anything to keep Damon off my back for a little while longer.

Author Bio:
When not working on puzzles for Penny Press or writing about them for PuzzleNation, Glenn Dallas is an author of short stories and at least half of one novel. After appearing in the acknowledgments of several outstanding novels, he looks forward to returning the favor in the future.
Lisa Mantchev is the acclaimed author of Ticker and the Théâtre Illuminata series, which includes Eyes Like Stars, nominated for a Mythopoeic Award and the Andre Norton Award. She has also published numerous short stories in magazines, including Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, Weird Tales, and Fantasy. She lives on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State with her husband, children, and horde of furry animals. Visit her online at www.lisamantchev.com.

Author links

 Lisa:

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Glenn:
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Book Blitz: Dead Ringer by Jessie Rosen @YABoundToursPR #YABOUNDBOOKTOURS #Giveaway

Dead Ringer
by Jessie Rosen
Release Date: November 11th 2015
Full Fathom Five Digital

Summary from Goodreads:

From the moment Laura Rivers steps foot into Englewood High, she notices the stares-and they aren't the typical once-overs every pretty new girl endures. The students seem confused and…spooked. Whispers echoing through the halls confirm that something is seriously off. "That new girl looks just like her," they say.

It turns out Laura has a doppelgänger, and it isn't just anyone-it's Sarah Castro-Tanner, the girl who killed herself by jumping into the Navasink River one year ago.

Laura is determined not to let the gossip ruin her chances of making a fresh start. Thanks to her charming personality and California tan, she catches the eye of Englewood's undisputed golden boy, Charlie Sanders, and it's only a matter of time before they make their relationship official.

But something is making Charlie and his friends paranoid-and Laura soon discovers it has to do with Sarah Castro-Tanner.

What really happened to Sarah? Why is Charlie unraveling? And how does Laura Rivers fit into it all?

After all, she's the dead ringer for a dead girl.

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Excerpt:

September 1

Laura

Deep breath, big smile, and remember: it’s all about swag.

Laura laughed at her reflection in the little compact she kept in her bag for touch-ups and pep talks. The word “swag” sounded so ridiculous. That’s what made it the perfect mantra for day one of her senior year of high school—the very first time she would be “the new girl.”

Laura had been dreaming about her entrance into Englewood High since it was decided that’s where she would spend this year—three thousand miles away from her previous home. The move was a big change, but she welcomed the clean slate. It was time to focus her energy on everything but the demons of the typical high school girl—the kind she’d been her whole life: a wallflower and a pleaser. She was over the precarious balance between wearing something trendy but not so “out there” that people might talk. She was tired of being meek because battling the Queen Bees seemed too scary. And the days of hiding her natural smarts were over. Laura felt like high school was a tricky series of hoops she had to jump through before she could finally live on her own. So if high school isn’t for me, she’d decided, why let all its silly rules run my life?

That was Laura’s final thought as she stepped out of her vintage, black BMW convertible and glanced around at the other cars in the student parking lot. She’d debated the car purchase as soon as she arrived on the East coast. Convertibles are so obnoxiously California, she’d thought, but then she reminded herself that worrying about what everyone else thought was exactly the spiral she was trying to avoid. Besides, she worshipped that car and had saved every penny she could for almost two years to buy it. So what if people assumed it was a gift from her parents? She’d inform them that she bought it with a combo of waitressing tips from Joe’s Café right on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu, and money saved from fit modeling for the Rosefox denim line in downtown LA. No one would expect that. From what Laura knew of Englewood, most of the other BMWs in the lot would be brand-new sweet-sixteen gifts.

And yet the very first thing that caught her eye when Laura drove into the senior parking lot was another old car with its convertible top down. This one was cherry red and looked like it drove right out of a 90s music video, but it was in almost perfect condition. Apparently at least one other person in this town had to buy their own ride, Laura thought as she gave her reflection in the car window one final check.

For the first time in forever, she had decided to wear her long, blond hair down and parted on the far-left side so a waterfall of curls danced over her right eye, the slightly bluer one—the one that usually made her self-conscious. Today she let the curls do their thing instead of making sure every piece of frizz was locked down with an army of gooey hair products. She wore simple makeup paired with a shocking pink lipstick she’d seen on the girls strolling the pier all summer long. It was wild, but it made her feel powerful. Her first-day outfit was a 1960s floral shirt belted over a flirty, white sundress to make sure her tan legs showed, because why not milk the Cali-girl vibe? On her feet were cork-soled wedges in a neon-colored, striped print from 1989—one of her favorite vintage finds besides the car, of course. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t look like anyone at this posh, brick-and-ivy-covered, suburban New Jersey school, and she loved that fact. She was ready to start out on a totally new foot.

But just as Laura’s first-day confidence finally locked in, it vanished.

Across the parking lot, she caught the glance of two girls getting out of a shiny, white Corvette. Laura smiled in their direction, but something was off about the way they both looked back at her. Their faces were frozen in a strange, almost confused look that made her instantly uncomfortable. It was more than just the usual new-kid-in-school stares.

It wasn’t until the shorter, curly-haired girl glanced back and quickly turned away again that Laura saw the real feeling behind her eyes: she was scared.

* * *

“Rivers? Do we have a Laura Rivers? Hello, hello? Miss Rivers?”

Laura slipped into first period AP English just as the bell rang. Ms. O’Malley stood at the front of the room, just as skinny and evil-looking as all the online reviews claimed. She barely looked up from her attendance sheet as she barked. If she had, she would have seen twenty-four sets of eyes staring directly at Laura, and she would have also noticed that something was off.

As with those girls in the parking lot, there was something about these stares that gave Laura instant goose bumps. It was like everyone who saw her had the exact same thought. The only way she could think to describe the looks on their faces was spooked.

“Yes. Hi!” Laura said, trying her best to push through the awkward moment.

“Try to get here before the bell rings tomorrow,” Ms. O’Malley said. “I have you all seated alphabetically, so go take a seat behind…hmm, let me see…”

Laura scanned the room for empty desks. There were two open seats where students with last names beginning with R might fall. One was directly behind a way-too-friendly looking cheerleader type. She gave Laura a fairly convincing fake smile, but Laura took it with a grain of salt. Girls like that were skilled at the art of playing instant besties.

Then Laura’s eyes hit the person sitting behind the only other open chair, and instantly locked. It was as if there was a magnetic field around him; if you stayed far enough away it wouldn’t suck you in, but once you looked, you were done.

“Charlie Sanders,” Ms. O’Malley finally bellowed. “Charlie, raise your hand for the new girl to see.”

That wasn’t necessary—Laura had already found him. In the time it took him to lift his hand, she’d already stared through his dark-brown eyes, his knife’s-edge cheek bones, his messy-but-not-on-purpose chestnut hair, and his wide, toothy smile. She had to clench every muscle in her body to stop herself from giggling as he smiled politely in her direction.

But in the time it took for Charlie’s hand to fall back at his side, that smile was gone. Laura saw the switch go off in his head and the confusion land on his face. It was the same creeped-out reaction she’d prompted so far that morning. Charlie’s version of the gaze was by far the most intense, but it was also the shortest. He almost instantly reverted back to a wide, comfortable smile. Either he has better manners than the rest of my classmates, Laura thought, or he’s the best actor.

“I’m Charlie,” he said as she took her seat.

“So I’ve heard,” she teased. “I’m Laura…the new girl.”

“So I’ve heard,” Charlie shot back. “Welcome to Englewood. It isn’t all that bad. Where’d you move from?”

“Los Angeles.”

“Oh. In that case, this place sucks,” Charlie said.

“Way to welcome the newbie…” Laura joked, and Charlie smiled back. Then Ms. O’Malley demanded all eyes on the front of the room and started rambling about the fact that Shakespeare was probably a woman.

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. For the next forty or so minutes she didn’t have to worry about what Charlie was thinking of her, or try to hide what she was thinking about him. It wasn’t until Charlie tapped her on the shoulder to pass him a copy of the homework assignment circulating around the room that Laura’s heart started pounding again. She caught him off guard when she turned around, and he had that same instant reaction to her face. For the first time, Laura put her finger on what was so strange about it.

He was looking at her like he knew her.

About the Author

Jessie Rosen is a writer, producer, and performer. She grew up in New Jersey, attended Boston College in Massachusetts, and began her writing career in New York. Her live storytelling series Sunday Night Sex Talk has received national attention. She was named one of "The 25 Best Bloggers, 2013 Edition" by TIME magazine for her blog 20- Nothings, which was also named in "The 100 Best Websites for Women" and "The Top 10 Best Websites for Millennial Women" in 2013 by Forbes.

Rosen is the oldest of four girls, which gives her a special window into the minds of teenagers. She now lives in Los Angeles, where she's working on film and television projects, as well as her next novel.

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Virtual Tour: Desire to Fall by Shona Husk @ShonaHusk @GoddessFish #Giveaway

Desire to Fall

by Shona Husk

GENRE: Sci-fi Romance

BLURB:

Kya Hawl is an architect on the Precinct One redevelopment, a prestigious and contentious project in the city-state of Velli. While she is happy with her part-time female lover, Judge Elmi Chadee, she wants more. She wants a family and children, for that she needs two men willing to put their life on the line to breed.

Tref Xant and his partner Dru Macon seem like the right guys; however, Tref has secrets and Dru is about to deploy to Precinct One, one of the roughest precincts in Velli. The redevelopment can’t come soon enough. Tref would like to see the placed burned to the ground. But even that wouldn’t be able to erase his memories of growing up there.

With Dru away Tref finds himself falling for Kya. Jealousy sparks between the men. A triad can never form as Dru wants Elmi and she has sworn off unions after her sister ran away to join the Terrin Sect.

As riots erupt and the redevelopment is threatened Dru realizes he has to fight for what he wants--something Tref learned long time ago. A four-way union--while unusual--would work. But will the women agree when they learn of Tref’s past?

EXCERPT:

People stood to go, and he started packing up. A flutter of wings caught his eye, and he lifted his head from his handheld prismi-screen. Kya was preparing to leave. Could he walk over without it being obvious? What exactly was he trying to achieve? He watched as her wings partially opened, and she stretched after being forced to sit and watch a talk on electrics and security grids. Dull for most people. Fascinating for him. Almost as fascinating as functioning wings.

For a heartbeat he was transfixed by Kya. Her golden skin was almost translucent between the bones of her wings. So fragile, yet able to soar. He curled his fingers. He’d love to run his fingertips over those fine bones. Kiss where her wings joined her back. He and Dru hadn’t shared a woman in a while. She was definitely Dru’s type. Lithe with full lips that were always turned up at the corners.

Longing surged, but he tamped it down. Dru might get the wrong idea and think he’d changed his mind.

Kya headed toward the door. She spoke to another person and smiled. Would she smile at him? Why did he care? He should just let her leave. He could, but he knew he’d end up telling Dru about her and then trying to explain why he hadn’t acted on the attraction and at least said hello. There was only one reason, and it always caused an argument. Children were the one sticking point between him and Dru—Dru wanted a family, a triad. Tref didn’t want that responsibility. He’d seen how hard it was to keep a family together. He was holding Dru back. Tref resisted the urge to touch his wedding ring. Dru had married him for a reason.

Fuck it. She won’t bite—yet.

Tref strode over to Kya. He could call it professional courtesy. Casual interest. Even if it was attraction, it didn’t mean anything, and it didn’t mean he had to say anything beyond hello.

Kya’s head turned as he approached, and she stopped walking, as if she was waiting for him. Her gaze raked over him, too slowly for it to be anything but an appraisal. The heat in her eyes almost made him take a step back. He could hear the warning in his heartbeat that he was going to get burned by this one, but he still extended his hand in greeting.

The backs of their hands touched, and it was enough to send a jolt through his nerves that sizzled. He hadn’t felt attraction this strong since he’d met Dru, all dark eyes and muscle wrapped in a cop’s uniform. That had been five years ago, and he’d never expected to feel it again.

“Glad to finally put a face to the name, Kya.”

“You too.” She smiled, her blue eyes as dark as midnight. Her gaze flicked from his face to the ring in his ear.

In that fraction of a heartbeat, he didn’t want her to think he was unavailable. He wanted her to know he was interested in getting to know more about her and introducing her to Dru. That would be fun. Unless she wasn’t into the straight-up, honest-to-the-button-type guy. That wasn’t Tref’s type either, but Dru was something else.

“I’m glad you stood up to the Razor.”

Tref forced a smile at the manager’s nickname. It wasn’t quite as funny after growing up in Industrial 13. “I knew it would be coming, but it’s better to ask for everything first and then offer a cut.” He paused. She had no rings in her ears. What sect was she? Famili or Poli? He wasn’t sure what to say next, yet he wasn’t ready for the conversation to be over, so he kept it neutral and safe. “You work in this building?”

She nodded. “Yeah, up two levels.”

Of course she was up a couple of levels. He could picture her flying onto the top of the building and walking down the stairs to her office while he climbed up the stairs to his. He swallowed. The room was now empty except for them. He had to do something or say good-bye and try again another time, but that wasn’t who he was. He usually grasped every chance that came his way. “If you ever want to get drinks after work, there’s a nice bar in Tower A.”

Dru would be so impressed that he’d managed to make that suggestion.

Kya tilted her head. “You don’t like the Yellow Hop?”

Three floors down, it was popular with the office staff. However, he’d much rather catch a gondola across to Tower A and have a bit more privacy. Besides, from Tower A it was another short ride to his apartment. “Too many people from work.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She gave him another smile, her gaze lingering on him. “See you soon, Tref.”

He watched her walk away, her wings semispreading before closing as if she really wanted to shake them out. He wanted to see them extended, arching over his lover. The thought hardened his cock instantly. If they met for drinks, he’d be able to find out a bit more about her. And her about him. That thought was enough to kill the heat in his blood. He didn’t like anyone knowing too much about him. They judged too quickly. Women knew he wasn’t mating material once he mentioned growing up in Industrial 13, soon to be the cheap and trendy P1.

With a grimace, he turned away and packed up. It would be better if she didn’t take him up on the offer of after-work drinks.

AUTHOR BIO:

Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back.

With over forty published stories, ranging from sensual to scorching, she writes contemporary, paranormal, fantasy and sci-fi romance.

 Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Newsletter ~ Amazon Author Page

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