Posts Tagged ‘YA fiction’

About the Book

Title: The Peacock Door

Author: Wanda Kay Knight

Genre: Middle Grade Fantasy

In a magical tale of adventure, eight cousins sneak through forbidden treehouse doors, only to find themselves separated from each other and lost in strange worlds. In their quests to return home, they must unravel mysteries, escape snares and villains, find one another, and search for the elusive Oracle. The Peacock Door is a rich story of camaraderie, loyalty, love, and determination with a bit whimsy sprinkled throughout.

 

Author Bio

Wanda Kay Knight lives in the Pacific Northwest, teaches literature, strives really hard to keep up with her adventurous/competitive family, makes things out of yarn (mainly unique hats), enjoys collecting pretty rocks, and writes a lot.

Word from the Author:

I have to admit that I am not an organized person—not at all.  I keep my house clean and I like things tidy, but my car is a mess and I tend to get caught up in my everything else instead of doing what I need to do. Then, I become a furious rush of activity and make everything appear like it was clean and sparkling all along.

Now, the truth is that I feel really good when all my tasks and goals are finished.  I love it when my house is clean. I love it when I have finished enough exercise to keep myself from feeling guilty. I absolutely love it when I have finally organized that new knitting project and the yarn and the needles are sitting beside the couch begging me to continue the project every time I sit down. And once I get started, I have a hard time stopping.

Well, it’s the same with writing.  Once I get myself to sit down and write, I have a hard time putting it down.  I love it. I come away from a writing session or even a writing marathon with a sense of relief and excitement that I have accomplished a goal. And furthermore, if I could just stay awake all night and keep writing, I would do it (until the next morning when I have to start the process of getting started all over again).

For any others out there like me, I have one suggestion that seems to work. The one thing that kept me consistently writing was meeting with a group of would-be authors once a week with the specific goal that we have to read something—just a page or so—but something each week. After we read, we accept some criticism, listen to the others, and come back in one week prepared to it all over again.

Sometimes in those weeks between meetings, I would only get a couple of pages finished. Other times, the story would take over and I would write furiously and get pages and pages done. But, that once a week meeting really did force me to do something each week, and that was enough to build on until I finished. I found that I needed to be held accountable once a week—every other week did not work.

And, if you hate meetings (as I do), and avoid them at all costs; you should know that for some reason, this particular type of meeting with a few other people constructed around a defined goal was quite pleasant with just the right amount of motivation.

And so, as I begin the process of writing book two, I know that it is once again time to find a couple more would-be authors and once again meet once a week.  For me, it is bonding, creative, and motivating experience, and without it, book two just might not get written for a long, long time.

Links

Website: www.thepeacockdoor.com

Youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VAx9k2_2eU

Youtube video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVRFqy5_hko&t=30s

Email address:    wandakayknight@thepeacockdoor.com

My personal email:  wkayknight@gmail.com

 

 

 

The giveaway is for an eBook copy of the book:

CLICK HERE for the Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Excerpts

Grizzles and Lola:

He hobbled and wobbled when he walked as though sharp tacks protruded from the floor; his shoulders were hunched, and his head bent forward; he was ancient, no doubt about it—he was an ancient, old man. Giant folds and wrinkles covered his face; his white hair fell in large loopy whorls about his head, and they might have redeemed the face if it were not for the huge bulbous nose and the tiny squinty eyes. But the part they noticed the most was the fingers; gnarled, wrinkled fingers with long, yellowed talons for fingernails.

He twisted around and snarled at them; his raspy voice interrupted by his own heavy, noisy breathing, “Can’t you see that I am busy? I don’t like people, and I especially don’t like children. I ate the last child that came here.” He picked his tooth with a dirty fingernail. “What do you want?”

Icy Stone Steps:

A full moon had risen in the cobalt sky casting a bluish glow over the icy, snow-swept mountainside, illuminating the entire hamlet. Icicles dangled from the steep, high pitched roofs of cottages nestling here and there, jumbled together at odd angles wherever the mountainside allowed. Jagged, ice covered stone steps, cut into the mountainside, curved up and around the icicle laden cottages until finally reaching a summit—a high, flat plateau. And it was on that plateau—high overhead and overshadowing the village—that a Citadel, a snow-covered stone fortress—overwhelming with its massive and imposing presence—rose up out of the mountain as though etched and carved from the rock itself.

They stood exhaling puffs of frosty mist; entranced by the ethereal beauty of their snow laden destination and shocked by the terrible price they must pay to get there. Finally realizing the price for warmth and comfort for the night so they would have an audience with the Oracle tomorrow was a midnight climb up jagged icy stone steps tonight. It was foreboding and frigid; it was ethereal and sublime.

“We can do this,” Eleanor whispered. She slipped over and laid one arm on Ivan’s shoulder and the other on Tilly’s. Addison silently reached down grabbing Brody’s hand—and he let her do it. Claire moved over to stand beside Levi who had taken Esmé back into his own arms. He smiled a grim smile, and then he turned, planting his foot on the first jagged, icy stone step as each of the cousins formed a silent line behind him, breathing in the cold, frosty air, and preparing to follow.

The Citadel:

Nothing, nothing at all, not the ancient tales of lore, nor the fables of old could have prepared the cousins for the imposing power or the exquisite beauty of the Citadel. It rose up out of the snow like an elaborate ice sculpture, with belfries and pinnacled towers climbing into the clouds and reaching higher than the peaks themselves.

There were arches and turrets and cupolas, and parapets and round keeps with lanterns flickering in spade shaped windows, and all of it as pristine and intricate as though carved from ice and decorated with snow.

The castle was hewn from the mountain itself, forged from the stone so that the posterior of the castle was fused into the rock face of the mountain. A high, thick stone wall with ramparts and battlements like the strongholds of old, curved around the castle, surrounding it like a giant horseshoe with the massive gatehouse setting the center and the two prongs fusing back into the mountain.

The Doors:

The others smiled, nodding innocently. Gramma laughed and turned to go out the peacock door; but, as soon as she grabbed the handle, she pivoted back facing them.

A bizarre expression clouded her face. “Whatever you do,” she said, “Whatever you do—listen to me!” She pointed her finger at each of them, and after staring directly into each set of eyes, she continued. “There are journeys and treasures beyond those doors,” she said, “There are long forgotten wisps of alchemy and lost keys and crystals and mirrors of illusions; but, you must not go out any of those doors. Her voice lowered as she leaned forward. “I gotta tell you—those keys are especially hard to find. You think it’s easy; but, nooo, it is not! Everything is fine as long as you don’t go out any doors except the peacock door, right here. This is the door to use—only this one.” She patted the door.

Her voice lowered even more—almost to a whisper. “You see, kiddies, even if you’re ready to search for the keys, it’s real hard to—um—well—to—to feel them—to experience them.” She rubbed the fingers of each hand together, rotating the thumb around the fingertips. “Yeeessss, to feel them; it’s just not the time to feel them. That’s the hard part. Do you understand?”

 

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Teen and Young Adult
Date Published: 9/26/16 (Print) 10/18/16 (eBook)
Publisher: Dragon Tree Books
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When fifteen-year-old Ciarán Morrigan eavesdrops on a conversation between his father and two mysterious strangers, his life—and the life of his little sister, Remiel—is changed forever. After their father makes a startling decision, the Morrigan siblings are forced to flee the only life they’ve ever known and embark on a dangerous adventure across the nation of Empirya. With the enlisted help of a disinherited vagabond, a cynical violinist, a fire-juggler with a fierce temper, an aspiring mechanic, and a cheerful librarian, Ciarán and Remiel must fight to escape the clutches of lethal pursuers. Their journey carries them through smog-filled cities, dark forests, humble towns, and perilous mountains, but will Remiel’s dark secret and ghosts from the past prevent the Morrigan children from finding a place they can truly call home?
Winner – Indie Genius Award from Dragon Tree Books
Winner – Literary Titan Book Award (Gold) June 2017
About the Author

Allie Frost was born in 1992 and has spent most of her life in rural Pennsylvania. She attended Western New England University and graduated in 2013 with a degree in English Literature and Film Studies. During her college years, she studied in England and began working on the story that would become her debut novel, I’m With You. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys playing video games, reading, traveling, and going to the movies, and she only likes dark roast coffee or very sugary lattes, but nothing in between. More information is available at thealliefrost.com.

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Excerpt

Ramus stared blankly at the prostitute’s beckoning hand. The girl flexed her fingers, as though trying to conjure money from his pockets.

“I’ll do anything you ask if the price is right.”

Valkyrie reached across Ramus and pushed the girl’s hand away, saying, “He’s not interested, thank you.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. “I think he can answer for himself, honey.”

“And his answer is no, sweetie.”

Indignant, the girl turned her attention back to Ramus. “Listen, if you want to hire me you have to leave these three out of it.” She gestured to Valkyrie, Remiel, and me, her nose wrinkled. “There’s a place down on Furnace Street we can use for the night. Real cheap—I know the owner.”

Ramus wasn’t listening—his eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror. A gunshot ripped through the air. Remiel squealed and grabbed my arm again.

Ramus turned the key, and the cab sputtered back to life. “Time to go!”

“What was that?!” the prostitute shrieked.

Valkyrie reached over Ramus, grabbed the girl by the arms, and yanked her through the open window. She was just thin enough to fit, and she landed unceremoniously on Ramus’s lap. Her knee crashed into his groin, and he let out a pained yelp. Valkyrie pulled her again so she was sprawled on his lap instead.

“What are you doing!?” she howled as Ramus jammed his foot on the gas.

“It’s called saving your life, and you’re welcome!” Valkyrie snapped.

The girl let loose a series of vulgar curses as Valkyrie shoved her into the backseat between Remiel and me. The sickening scent of flowery perfume and smoke assaulted my nose. “Let me out of here!” she yelled.

So you can get shot? No chance!” Valkyrie fired back, though he added in a low, irritated growl, “But it’s very tempting…”

“It was probably just a car backfire!” She reached over me, groping for the door handle. I was too stunned to stop her, even though I would be the one in danger of falling out of the cab if she succeeded.

Another gunshot rang out somewhere behind us. The girl screamed and jerked back into her seat.

“Drive faster!” she ordered.

We rocketed off into the murky evening. The girl dug her fingernails into my arm—much sharper than Remiel’s—but I was too scared to ask her to release me.

Reading Addiction Blog Tours
The West Woods
by Suzy Vadori
Genre: YA Fantasy
Courtney Wallis wants nothing more than to escape St. Augustus boarding
school. After uncovering a well-kept secret about the school’s
founder, Isaac Young, Courtney turns to the school’s magic to
convince her dad to let her leave. Things take a turn when she meets
Cole, who lives in the nearby town of Evergreen. He gives her hope
that things might not be so bad. However, the fountain has other
ideas, and binds Courtney to her ambition, no matter the cost.
As Courtney struggles to keep the magic from taking over, she and her
friends get drawn into the mystery woven into the school’s fabric.
Everything seems to lead back to the forbidden West Woods. Together,
she and her friends seek out the spirits of the past to ask for help,
and find themselves in much deeper than they’d bargained for. If
they succeed, Courtney could be free of the magic. If they fail, she
may never be the same.
Suzy Vadori is an Operations executive by day, Writer by night. The
Fountain is her debut novel for Young Adults. Suzy is an involved
member of the Calgary Writers’ community, service as Program Manager
for Young Adult at When Words Collide (a Calgary festival for readers
and Writers) since 2013. Suzy lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada with
her husband and three kids.