Saturday, March 2, 2013

Review/This or That/Character Bio: Ashes & Ice by Rochelle Maya Callen

Title: Ashes & Ice

Author: Rochelle Maya Callen     
Release Day: February 4th, 2013

Genre: Young Adult

Blitz Host: Lady Amber's Tours

She is desperate to remember.
He is aching to forget.
Together, they are not broken.
But together, one may not survive.

​Jade wakes up with no memory of her past and blood on her hands.

Plagued by wicked thoughts, she searches for answers. Instead, she finds a boy who doesn't offer her answers, but hope. But sometimes, when nightmares turn into reality and death follows you everywhere, hope is not enough.

LUST. LOVE. LOSS. Sometimes, all that is left are Ashes and Ice

This book had several elements I have been looking for in a book for awhile. I was actually talking to an author the other about how some books lately want to put all the information out up front. This book kept its mystery. She wakes up not knowing who she is or anything about herself. She has black outs, and feels cold and empty inside. You don't find out what she really is until the very end. It was very surprising, and interesting. We get to see the story from both Connor and Jade's perspective, I like knowing what different characters are thinking. Jade had a hard girl exterior, but inside she was extremely lonely. Connor and Jade both had their flaws, but they were very likable. The book constantly kept you guessing. We don't find out things until the character finds them out. We can definitely feel her confusion in this book. It was a very fast read. I recommend it to everyone who likes a unique paranormal story. I can't wait for the second book.

Character Bio: Connor
Strengths: Big Heart, Reliable, Good Friend
Weaknesses: Self Doubt, low self esteem
Physical Description:
Bah! Who wants a description. How about a picture? Shhh, don’t tell Drew Van Acker that I stole his photo.
Dessert: Cheesecake
Physical Activity: Running
Shoe size: wouldn’t you like to know? ;)
Talents: Guitar, singing, and we’ll find out more in book 2.
Connor Teasers:
They are cold, brutal eyes and they glared right at me. Half of me thinks: Idiot, idiot, idiot! Beautiful, totally hot girl had her hand on my shoulder and I ignored her. I curse myself for missing a chance to have her sit next to me. The other half of me, though, is relieved. Somehow, I know eyes so sharp and penetrating could slice me open.
A brave, rebellious soldier deep within me toys with the idea of apologizing about yesterday, introducing myself, striking up conversation, and impressing her with my wit and charm. When I remember that I have neither, I silence the deceitful bastard and continue sulking, wishing to be someone else—someone cooler, someone who isn’t completely and utterly terrified of taking chances, someone who could talk to this girl without fear of rejection.
I’m stumped. Beautiful, girl of my dreams in my bed and I want to sleep on the floor? “I—I thought it would be ya’ know the gentlemanly thing to do.”
            She shakes her head, “Nope.” She says with an extra pop on the “p”. “A gentleman would keep me warm and safe.” She pats the space next to her.
Holy crap. Either I was slipped a pill at lunch or this old lady is batshit crazy. Seriously, if a person owns a collection of skulls and has mastered a peel-your-skin-off-glare, she is no one I want to tango with. “Jade, let’s go.” I tug on her arm.

This or That
Ryan Gosling or Channing TatumRyan Gosling. Who could deny those sweet eyes?Werewolves or VampiresWerewolves because they are badass.Fae or WerewolvesFae for reading, but I would NEVER want to hang out with them. They are sneaky tricksters.Fiction or NonfictionFiction. Reading is an escape for me.
Ebook or PaperbackHardcover ;)
Contemporary or Historical
Oh! I adore historical fantasy J
Vanilla or Chocolate

Pepsi or Coke
Coke! ALL THE WAY BABY! We used to have huge debates over which was better in my family.

Chips or Crackers

Cats or Dogs
Kitty cats. 

Author Bio:

Rochelle grew up dreaming up stories. When she entered high school, she tucked away her creative side and jumped head-first into academics, work, and service projects. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in Political Science and Communication when she was twenty years old. After years away from her writing, Rochelle picked up a pen and started fleshing out a character sketch that she outlined when she was twelve. That sketch was the start of the Ashes and Ice story. Rochelle lives in the DC metro area with her husband and daughter. By day she works as a behavioral therapist. By night, she is a dreamer and is busy tapping out new stories on her keyboard.

twitter: rockyiswriting


            The girl’s glassy, dead eyes stare into me, through me, pierce me with a fierce urgency, with a wicked accusation. The blood is still on my hands.
            Red hair, blue eyes, a constellation of freckles on pale skin. She was fragile and innocent, a lovely thing. That is what I think until I see the gashes on her wrists and throat. With her blood spilling out, she looks delicious. She’s mine. Possessiveness shocks me, stabs into me. I run, tearing away from a craving I don't understand.
            Breathless, I grit my teeth and run harder, faster.
            My feet pound against the earth, away from the lifeless body and toward the lights of the city lingering on the horizon. Rot and death linger in my nostrils. Unscarred skin stretches taut over my freezing bones. Echoes of an empty memory reverberate in my mind, taunting me. The ice chases me, clutches me, and bites at my heels, sending shivers up my spine. The ice wants me back, but I run forward, toward the lights, toward the heat, toward a world that burns me, because I have no other choice.
            The lights are so close. Heat scalds my skin.
            Images race through my mind, paralyzing me. I skid to a stop, my boots digging into the mud. The vision’s blurred edges materialize into solid shapes.
             I gasp.
            A new horror rakes my insides. Desperation propels me forward; the pictures nagging at my seams threaten to tear me apart.
            Scorching fire licks over my skin. In my vision, I contort like a vile, ugly creature, eyes as black as decay. My frame hunches over the small, dead girl, like a demon looming over a defenseless child. Her blood drips from my mouth.
            I lick my lips and taste only salty sweat.
            I run, desperate to trample the vision under my feet, to crush it deep into the ground.
            I refuse to believe the image, refuse to acknowledge the monster within me demanding to be unleashed—and the possibility it has already been unbound. An unrelenting tide of fear washes over me. Past the denial, the fear, and the hope, I think I can still taste her.
            The cold stillness inside me cracks open just as the lights of the city slam into me.

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