Thursday, March 8, 2012

Blog Tour: Rook: Allie's War by JC Andrijeski

This virtual book tour is presented by Bewitching Book Tours.
You can see the entire tour schedule by clicking HERE.
Welcome to The Wormhole and my day on the tour.
It is my pleasure to feature JC Andrijeski and 
Rook: Allie's War: Book One

About the Author:
JC Andrijeski is a bestselling author who has published novels, novellas, serials, graphic novels and short stories, as well as nonfiction essays and articles. Her short fiction runs from humorous to apocalyptic, and her nonfiction articles cover subjects from graffiti art, meditation, psychology, journalism, politics and history. Her short works have been published in numerous anthologies, online literary, art and fiction magazines as well as print venues such as NY Press newspaper and holistic health magazines.

Obtaining an MA in political science from the New School for Social Research (NSSR) in NYC, she did her graduate studies in race and caste systems, slave and ex-slave systems, religion and its impacts on social systems and other historical weirdnesses which fitted her surprisingly well for both fiction writing and being extremely annoying at parties. She moved from NYC to San Francisco in 1997, and otherwise has lived or spent considerable time in Albuquerque, Portland, Los Angeles, Seattle, Vancouver BC, New York, Florida, San Diego, Prague, London, Berlin, Sydney and Swinoujscie, Poland. JC currently lives and writes full time in Sidhpur, India, at the foot of the Himalayas in Himachal Pradesh, a location she drew on a fair bit in writing the Allie's War books.

...and now ~ the book...
Rook: Allie's War, Book One
By JC Andrijeski
Published By White Sun Press

28-year-old San Francisco native, Allie Taylor, at least thought she was human. But when she meets her first real seer, a race of human-like beings discovered in the 1900s, he tells her that not only is she a seer, like him, but that all the other seers believe she's going to end the world. Unfortunately, no matter what she does, everything that happens after that only seems to prove him right.

The author has provided this excerpt to feed your need to read...

“Put it down!” A voice yelled. “On the ground! Right now!”

I blinked in confusion, staring at the bottle in my hand. The jagged end of broken glass looked like something out of a cartoon, or an old gangster movie.
Blood ran down the inside of my arm, not all of it mine. My muscles locked, bunched up with adrenaline.
Someone must have called the police. The young guy in front of me didn’t have his gun out, but his hand held the holster menacingly, and his uniform brought a flush of panic, starting somewhere in my lower belly.
The other fire that had burned there—irrationally bright only seconds before—abruptly sobered. Without taking so much as a breath, I dropped the broken bottle, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender.
I’ve never been a tough chick. I’d never done anything remotely like this before...but I knew enough to know that my arms covered in tattoos and my punky, bleached-calico hair weren’t winning me any points with the men in blue. I looked around at the swath of cleared space around the bar.
“Hands up!” the cop yelled.
“They’re up!” I said.
He walked up, grabbing one of my wrists. He spun me around so I faced the bar. I felt cool metal hit my wrist as my chest thudded into the lacquered wood.
“You have any weapons?” the young policeman asked. He cuffed me, then patted me down. “Don’t fucking move!” he yelled, when I turned to look at him.
“No weapons!” I was shouting I realized, scared out of my wits.
All the while, my mind churned useless facts. People got shot doing stupid shit like this. More cops got shot in domestic disputes than during any other kind of call, which likely explained why the young cop’s hands shook as he cuffed me.
My eyes swept the oddly bright space until they lit on the person who had inspired all this drama, and that flame of irrational feeling ripped once more through my chest cavity, making it difficult to breathe, to think straight.
Jaden, my now ex-boyfriend, stood like a store mannequin, his eyes as wide as saucers in a pale face. He gripped the upper arm of his date, a voluptuous girl in a red vinyl dress, as if to steady himself. I looked at her, and the rage came back, intense enough to scare me. Breathing harder, I leaned against the wood, closing my eyes, trying to crush my own chest.
Feeling ripped through my center, animal-like—almost painful.
In my defense, I’d only heard about them that night, and the fact that their affair started three months earlier, while I’d been blissfully happy, thinking Jaden and I were mutually in love. According to his bass player, she’d started hanging out with them after shows, eventually winning him over with flattery, pouty lips and enormous tits.
She was babbling something to him and her friends now, half-hysterical, her arm bleeding profusely from where I’d slashed at her with the bottle, her red-painted lips another dark wound on her face.
I stared at them both, thinking, this can’t be real. It can’t be. This isn’t me.
But it was.

You can buy this story HERE.

Thanks for stopping by The Wormhole ~ Happy Reading.

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