Why hello there!
Welcome back to
Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers…the place that aims to please your
appetite, one book at a time.
Quick reminder before
we jump into everything, there are SEVERAL contests going on right now here on
the site, some end sooner (12/18/12) as opposed to later (01/31/13!) but all
are just waiting for YOU to take a chance at winning the bookish booty they
have up for grabs. So, when you’re done
with THIS post, check out the right hand side bar under ‘Current Contests’ and
throw your hat in the ring for a chance to win!
Now, back to today’s regularly scheduled post….
Do you know what day
it is? Or perhaps that would be better
put as what DATE it is? *raises
eyebrows* Why it’s…
12-12-12
*waits for asteroids*
_ducks Martians_
--outruns volcanoes—
JUST KIDDING!
But seriously, that doesn't happen EVERY day, in fact pretty much only ONCE a year through the
’12’s each century so mark the occasion in some special way because we won’t be
seeing another one until 2101…*blinks*…and yeah, most of us won’t actually be
“seeing” that one if you catch my drift (or we’ll be so elderly that we’ll be
lucky to know where we are let alone when!).
Anywho…
Now WARNING, it’s not for the little
kiddos; in fact, from what I have read thus far and the overall intensity of
the story, I’m going with a recommended age of older teen through adult (same
goes for the excerpt appearing here in a few moments). It’s dark, it dangerous, it’s the first book
in a planned EIGHT book series and frankly, it sounds exciting! So, without further ado, let’s get this show
on the road. Warm and dry (hey, it’s
RAINING where I am!) HAPPY BOOK BIRTHDAY wishes to…
By
Jason Rowe and Brian
Palmer
A century after the world was predicted to end, it was indeed reborn. Under the leadership of the Overseer of New Earth, minds were united, diseases were cured, population centers minimized mankind’s footprint, and the remainder of the planet was turned over to the will of nature. War was eradicated, the world embraced one religion, and the New Era began.
But darkness rises now, mistaken for a mere shadow cast by the bright light of human progress. It is the time of which the ancients foretold. It is the time when all things must end …It is the time of The Twelve.Six men and six women representing all creeds and colors are supernaturally gifted, but the unlikeliest of heroes. They are barely old enough to be considered adults by the world’s standards, but still they are called.
Only they can stand against the growing darkness – but will they stand together?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sounds good, right?
Told you so…and
that’s just the beginning!
The official website
(though still partly a work-in-progress…and yet filled with awesomeness) lists
out with some detail the descriptions/traits for “the Twelve”…six men, six
women. Of those on the potential team, I
would most identify with SIMRA…upbringing steeped in education, protective
(sometimes over…*ahem*) parent, and inquisitive nature. Curious to see what role she plays in the
story, but my interest in the others isn’t too far behind. Which one do YOU identify with most (and
why)? Hold that thought for a second
though (no really, hold it because you’ll need the answer later on!) because
thanks to the authors I have TWO more treats for you. First up, it’s time to peek between the pages
and sample an excerpt of what you’re in store for. Again with the WARNING…the scenes depicted
are pretty dark, so if you’re a kiddo reading this, switch to my lighter fluffy
posts, okay? Otherwise, you may proceed….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT: XII:
GENESIS
I
The
air is biting cold beneath a crimson moon as citizens of PC-NY prowl the
streets in search of self-gratification. At the center of Times
Square , a forty-foot effigy of a man on a cross continues to burn,
casting an eerie, orange-red glow on nearby residence towers.
Around the fire’s perimeter, men
with painted faces and torsos bloody each other as part of the holiday fight
club festivities, while others guzzle homemade whiskey, howling at the moon
between mouthfuls. Women dressed in little more than body paint gyrate to the
drone of seductive, primal music, their bodies covered in sweat from the heat
of the fire while others engage in sexual acts for all to see. Most of those
present are sporting an erotic-themed, Egyptian crest somewhere on their
bodies, whether in the form of a tattoo or jewelry.
A few city blocks away, a runt of a
man exits a run-down, all-night food stand, clutching a small bag to his chest
nervously, his sunken eyes darting back and forth down the dimly lit street.
Lighting a serenity stick, he takes a couple of drags before shuffling off to
his right, away from the raucous activities taking place a mile or so in the
other direction. Moving fast enough to make good time, but not daring to run
for fear of drawing attention to himself, he keeps his gaze fixed on a
crosswalk that is only ten strides away.
Two strides short of his objective, a small
group of painted men steps into his path from behind the edge of a nearby
building. Even in the dark, their bald silhouettes cause the serenity stick in
the man’s hand to tremble as adrenaline rushes through his veins. A member of
the group steps into a small strand of light from a fading streetlight and the
man goes pale at the sight of his would-be assailant’s coal-black eyes,
surrounded by sockets full of ruptured blood vessels.
The man turns away in an all-out sprint,
desperately looking over his shoulder after a few strides, only to find that
his pursuers are merely walking after him. Hope courses through him briefly and
he quickens his pace, but when he faces forward again a moment later a second
group steps out from the shadows, blocking his escape from the first. Corralled
from both directions, the man throws the bag at his attackers in a panic,
hoping the sacrifice will suffice, but it is trampled as the two groups soon
overwhelm him.
While the small mob satisfies its
bloodlust, a jet black patrol vehicle comes to a silent stop at the curb behind
them. The nose and rear of the vehicle are inscribed with the word SECURITY
while the doors of the vehicle are adorned with the large, gold letters: ONE,
an acronym for “Overseer of New Earth.” The roof is decorated by an enormous
red sun that is partially blotted out by the visage of a black dragon in
flight. Inside the vehicle, a security officer points a video camera at the
scene, watching briefly as the murder plays out with green, night vision
clarity on the camera’s viewfinder. After a few brief moments of filming, the
patrol vehicle pulls away as the victim’s screams are swallowed up by the
night.
Across town, another ONE Security
patrol methodically makes its way past city blocks filled with tents and
makeshift huddles. Barrel fires scattered throughout the skids do little to warm
the families living there and the eyes of hungry children with poverty-smeared
faces stare at the vehicle accusingly as it passes. The officer inside pays
them no mind as something a block away catches his eye. A woman is desperately
trying to fight off three men and failing miserably. The patrolman pulls off to
the roadside, readying his video camera. Just outside the passenger window, a
small child sits on the ground rocking as she hugs her legs tightly to her
chest. Her clothes are dingy and tattered, her face streaked with tears. She
doesn’t seem to notice the officer as she calls out to her mother between sobs.
The officer unemotionally points the camera at the girl before turning to her
mother who has now been wrestled and pinned to the ground. After collecting
enough footage, the patrol car leaves the curb and moves past the rape in
progress. One of the rapists becomes aware of the car’s presence and looks back
at the officer as he drives past them. The rapist’s black eyes reflect no light
as he licks his caked lips and smiles before turning his attention back to the
woman. The patrol car leaves the woman and her daughter to the whims of the
mob, passing a steam-filled alley before turning south on its assigned route.
Down that same alley, an old man,
made older by his life choices, is slumped against one of the alley walls
fighting a case of the nods while cradling a bottle. He wakes from his current
blackout and makes a mighty effort to remove the bottle’s cap when Mikhail
instantly appears out of the cloud of steam to his left. The wino drops the
bottle with sudden sobriety brought on by the presence of the imposing figure
that is slowly walking toward him. Despite his drunken stupor, the wino reckons
the man must be over ten feet tall and built like a thoroughbred, his muscular
arms and legs making mountaintops out of the sea of white and grey that marks
his clothing. A grim look is etched onto Mikhail’s chiseled jaw. Looking up at
Mikhail, the old man notices that he radiates a different light than what is
seen in the alley, or anywhere the old man has been in his lifetime.
Just as Mikhail is about to pass by the wino, he
stares down at him and his look softens. The wino squirms as Mikhail’s form
shrinks in size to more earthly, but still imposing, proportions. At the same
time, the glow that blankets him drains like water from his massive frame and
coalesces into his eyes before they turn dark brown. Then, Mikhail smiles at
the old man as if he knows him and reaches an inviting hand out without saying
a word. Hesitating briefly, the old man accepts Mikhail’s invitation.
The moment the wino takes Mikhail’s hand, warmth
spreads over his body. Like a child clinging to its mother, the old man buries
his smiling face into the chest of his new friend and weeps tears of joy. After
several moments, the wino steps back and smiles at Mikhail, before walking away
with renewed hope, his eyes and mind both clearer than they have been in many
years.
Mikhail resumes walking without looking back,
his steely gaze remaining fixed on his ultimate destination somewhere in the
cloud of fog at the end of the alley. As though on command, the fog-like haze
that fills the alley parts before him obediently. Clusters of men, women and
children who are huddled around barrel fires pay him little notice; neither do
they note as Mikhail passes by them that the very shadows created by their
fires along the alley walls begin to break free from their natural places to
slither after him.
Mikhail stops when he reaches the far end of the
alley, a look of calm expectation on his face as the fog in the area closes
around him, concealing him and his dark stalkers from the view of any who might
be looking on. The sound of laughter is heard faintly from somewhere unseen
before fading out, and the shadows form a perimeter around the man, his stoic
gaze softening into a smirk in response.
“This is our domain, Mikhail,” a
hissing voice says from behind him. “You have no power here.”
“This place may be yours for the moment,”
Mikhail says without turning around, a hint of menace in his Eastern European
accent, “but try me if you doubt my power.”
Hoarse cackling erupts and then
spreads throughout the shadowy ranks.
“Even you are no match alone against a legion.
Leave now or fall you will.”
Mikhail is unfazed by the threat.
“I’m merely passing through, admiring the festivities. But since you’re in a
conversational mood, I have two messages for you.” After more cackling and
hissing, he continues without waiting for them to reply further. “First, tell
your master not to be late for his funeral. Second…tell my brother I’ll see him
soon.”
The next moment, a pulse of light illuminates
the fog like a storm cloud and a clap of thunder is heard before a torrent of
wind rushes down the alley, drowning out the shrieks of Mikhail’s dark stalkers
as it blows out all of the barrel fires and leaves the alley in total darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Intense, right?
Warned ya…but you
can’t say that you aren’t wondering just who this Mikhail is or why the
“legion” is after him or why the city appears to be under siege from all things
evil and the Security patrol is not only driving by but FILMING the action?!?
*gasp*
So many questions…but
they don’t have to remain unanswered; which brings me to my “part 2” of my
“thanks to the authors” statement earlier.
Can you guess what it might be?
What’s that? A contest you
say? Oh how right you are!
In celebration of
their book’s release, the authors have granted me the privilege of giving all
of YOU a chance to win!
The prize…
(1)
Kindle ebook edition of XII: Genesis by Jason Rowe and Brian Palmer
How to enter…
Just fill in the
rafflecopter form below and you’ll be in it to win it....wait, no, okay, change of plans. I was SO going to use rafflecopter but they just did an update and their site is totally bugging out. (*sad face*) So...NEW PLAN...just...
CLICK HERE
...to fill out the GOOGLE Form and I'll do the tallying, random drawing and winner announcing by 12/26/12...sound good? Good.
There's plenty of chances to win with only ONE required entry so have fun with it! Explore a new bookish world in the making and SPREAD THE WORD! ^_^
CLICK HERE
...to fill out the GOOGLE Form and I'll do the tallying, random drawing and winner announcing by 12/26/12...sound good? Good.
There's plenty of chances to win with only ONE required entry so have fun with it! Explore a new bookish world in the making and SPREAD THE WORD! ^_^
Entries accepted
today through midnight CST on December 24th, 2012 (12 days for a
12/12/12 release…^_^). Open
internationally or as long as you have access to read a Kindle ebook…whichever
platform you use i.e. an actual Kindle or one of their many reading apps that
work with your smart phone, PC and more.
Special thanks to
author Jason Rowe and Brian Palmer for the chance to bring this contest to you
as well as the upcoming read. (THANKS
guys!) For more information on this
series, be sure to visit their official website, like them on Facebook, or
follow along on Twitter. This ebook is
available now on Amazon through Kindle Direct Publishing. If you simply can’t wait on the contest and
must read it RIGHT NOW…I don’t blame you…and here’s the link to Amazon to help
you on your way.
ONE MORE THING…a rather interesting footnote that I learned about
this writing duo…both were formerly employed by a non-profit organization that
works to rescue women and girls
from the sex and human trafficking trade.
Mr. Palmer in fact was even able to visit them in India Mumbai , India
Until next time…GOOD LUCK, SPREAD THE
WORD…and happy reading!
Wow, and to learn that work history. Huh. Sounds great! Thank you!
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