Exclusive excerpt + giveaway: Roar by Cora Carmack

When I first read Roar, I giddy with excitement!!! I was dying to talk about it with everyone and anyone! This is undoubtedly my favorite Cora Carmack book to date with its magical storms, romance, adventure and intrigue. I can’t wait for you guys to read it and am so thrilled to be able to share a sneak peek with you today! Plus, there’s a signed giveaway up for grabs, so make sure to scroll to the bottom of this post to get the deets!

Roar is out next week on June 13th, and you can pre-order now.

About Roar

In a land ruled and shaped by violent magical storms, power lies with those who control them.

Aurora Pavan comes from one of the oldest Stormling families in existence. Long ago, the ungifted pledged fealty and service to her family in exchange for safe haven, and a kingdom was carved out from the wildlands and sustained by magic capable of repelling the world’s deadliest foes. As the sole heir of Pavan, Aurora’s been groomed to be the perfect queen. She’s intelligent and brave and honorable. But she’s yet to show any trace of the magic she’ll need to protect her people.

To keep her secret and save her crown, Aurora’s mother arranges for her to marry a dark and brooding Stormling prince from another kingdom. At first, the prince seems like the perfect solution to all her problems. He’ll guarantee her spot as the next queen and be the champion her people need to remain safe. But the more secrets Aurora uncovers about him, the more a future with him frightens her. When she dons a disguise and sneaks out of the palace one night to spy on him, she stumbles upon a black market dealing in the very thing she lacks―storm magic. And the people selling it? They’re not Stormlings. They’re storm hunters.

Legend says that her ancestors first gained their magic by facing a storm and stealing part of its essence. And when a handsome young storm hunter reveals he was born without magic, but possesses it now, Aurora realizes there’s a third option for her future besides ruin or marriage.
She might not have magic now, but she can steal it if she’s brave enough.

Challenge a tempest. Survive it. And you become its master.


Rora set off for the servants’ wing in the quickest walk she could manage without drawing attention. Shortcuts allowed her to avoid pal- ace guards, and in record time Rora was standing before the entrance to the storm shelter. She scurried down the stairs into the dark.

The servants’ shelter was merely a long empty room, whereas the royal shelter had elegant fixtures and furniture and even a few beds. Rora did not dare light a sconce as she walked through the shelter. Eventually, out of the darkness formed the shape of a familiar set of stairs that led to the outside. She opened the cellar door enough to slip out and then softly set it back into place. On the darkened street that ran along the palace wall, things became trickier. Cassius might have beat her here. She could head in the direction of the main road and hope she caught up to him. Or . . . she could assume that she changed quickly and took enough shortcuts to arrive ahead of him. She was still considering her options when the door behind her creaked open. She pulled the hood forward to hide her face as much as possible and began walking slowly toward the main road. She hunched and shuffled as if she were an old woman, then peered back briefly over her shoulder.

The newcomer wore a wide-brimmed hat angled to cover his face and a black traveling cloak. His height and build matched Cassius, and he walked with the same calm confidence. She continued her slow gait, and eventually he passed her. Rora waited until he was a decent length ahead of her, and then she dropped the act and followed as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

As they neared the city’s center, the streets became less deserted. Two people huddled in a small alley. A shadowed form darkened a doorway. A group of men stood outside a seedy tavern, their voices loud and slurred, discussing the earlier skyfire storm as if they’d fought it themselves. Even in her disguise, a few people eyed her as she passed.

She began to worry that the possibility of getting caught by Cassius wasn’t her only concern. She had left the palace often; she did it regularly for her early-morning rides and for the occasional royal tour through the city. But that was along the main road that led directly from the palace gate to the city gate. It was well paved and well lit, and could be seen by guards patrolling atop both the palace and city walls. Now she was truly on her own.

When she looked away from the group of drunk men, Cassius was gone. Panicked, she launched into a jog, scanning alleyways and side streets for his silhouette. She saw what might have been a black cloak disappearing around the bend of a dark, twisting street. She hesitated. If she were wrong, the trail would go cold.

Trusting her gut, Rora darted down the street, unnerved by the darkness that lurked around her. The buildings grew more dilapidated, and up ahead a lone figure strolled down the street. Occasionally he stopped, peered into a building or down another street, and then continued on. The neighborhood grew rougher as they plunged deeper into the city—a city that was decidedly less pristine and prosperous than the one she always saw on the royal tours.

The streets smelled of some unidentifiable muck, and houses leaned together as if holding each other up. Surely people in Pavan didn’t live like this. Rora edged closer to Cassius so that she didn’t fall behind again. When he stopped again under the flickering glow of a swinging lantern, he glanced backward and she was luckily covered by the shadow of a building.

The lantern squeaked in the wind on the silent street. Too silent. It was late, but there should have been some noise . . . people moving in their houses, a crying babe, a barking dog. Something. Light shone on the familiar hard angle of Cassius’s jaw, then he dipped his head and disappeared into a building. Rora gathered her cloak up in her fists, and ran. Skidding to a stop beneath the lantern, she faced a set of stairs and a boarded-up door of a deserted building. Frowning, she approached and pushed against the wood. It didn’t budge. Feeling around the frame for any hidden latches, Rora came up empty. But just out- side the frame on the side of the building was something carved into the wood.

She ran her fingers over the grooves and followed the way they fanned out from a circle in the center. It reminded her of the way water in a tub swirled after the plug had been pulled. A storm. She wasn’t positive what kind—a hurricane, perhaps? Pavan was landlocked, so she had never seen one in real life, but she had seen illustrations of the monstrous swirling beasts.

Her fingers traced again over the carving, following it all the way to the edge. She expected to run into the next building, as it was clear when she looked up that the two were attached, but instead her fingers found open air. She leaned over the edge of the stair railing, and found a small gap that had been boarded up to make the buildings appear connected at a glance, but left enough space at the bottom for a person to duck beneath.

That must have been where he’d gone. The gap was small, and so dark she would not have seen it if she had not been looking. It must have been difficult for Cassius to fit. She felt ill with nerves as she approached the passageway. But she had to know what was on the other side. As her mother said . . . better the beast you know.

She squeezed through the opening. She had to shuffle sideways for about ten steps, then the tunnel widened. Twenty paces ahead, there was a faint blue glow in the darkness. Her stomach roiled like a tossing sea, but she continued forward. The eerie silence of the street at her back gave way to a dull roar that developed into voices as she neared the exit.

“Wind charms!” one cried. “Tie it on your laundry line and never lose another garment.”

A gruff male voice said, “Firestorms! Rare and potent!”

She poked her head outside the tunnel, but immediately pulled it back. There were people everywhere, more than a hundred, walking through narrow lanes of merchant stalls. Slower this time, she poked her head out, and when she didn’t see Cassius, she slipped out of the passageway.

It was a market, like the open-air one in the shopping district. But this one was far from open. The backs of buildings formed the border of the market, leaving a long rectangular gap hidden from the streets. A black cloth had been stretched overhead, providing further seclusion. Lanterns were strung up around the edges and down the aisles. But they didn’t hold fire inside. They glowed an eerie blue and contained . . . skyfire—dozens of thin branches of light that split and stretched toward the glass like the roots of a tree. The lightning was frozen inside the lantern.

It was not unlike the chandelier that she loved so much in the great hall. But she had never seen storm magic like this outside the palace.

“Need a lightning lantern?” An older woman stood at Rora’s elbow, her skin weathered and dark, her voice a gravely whisper. “Guaranteed to stay lit for one year. Buy two and I’ll cut ye a deal.”

Rora shook her head. “No, I—no, thank you.”

“Ah, ye sound like a pretty young thing. A skyfire necklace then? I’ve got one that’s exactly like what the princess wore to meet her new prince. A lil’ smaller, of course.”

The woman picked up a chain, and it had miniature crystals that fanned out just like the one Rora had worn. The center crystal had been painted ruby red to mimic a firestorm heart.

“No, thank you.”

“Sumthin’ a bit more extravagant, then? I’ve a talisman that would protect ye from all types of storms for one week. Ye could go any- where, see anything, and never have to fear that ye might not make it home. Or perhaps ye have an enemy? Maybe a nasty husband who beats ye? Is that why ye got so much of ye face covered? I’ve just the thing! A powder made from the heart of a firestorm. Sprinkle it in his food, and he’ll burn from the inside out.”

“No need to burn people from the inside out, Etel. This one is with me.”

A large, masculine form pressed into Rora’s side, and a heavy arm draped over her shoulders. The old woman straightened. She scowled and spit on the ground, and when she spoke, her tone was higher, less raspy, “Ye could have told me that, Locke, before I wasted me time.”

Rora froze. Cassius. He’d found her. She had been so distracted by the woman and her wares that she hadn’t thought to keep watch. He pulled her forward, and her feet dragged like lead. She couldn’t take a deep enough breath, and her eyes began to cloud with tears.

What have I done? How will I explain this? What will he do to me?

“Come on, girl. I’m doing you a favor getting you away from that fraud. You could at least play along.”

Rora lurched to a stop, and jerked her head upward. That wasn’t Cassius. Her hood began to slip backward. She tried to catch it, but her movements lagged behind her mind, and her injured arm had grown stiff and numb. Cool air hit her uncovered cheeks, her nose, then her forehead. Even with the scarf hiding her hair, she might be recognized. And she had a feeling this was a very bad place for a princess to be.

The hood’s descent halted; it wasn’t her fingers that had caught the fabric but his. He was so tall that Rora had to crane her head back to see him. His hair was a dark, wavy brown and hung long enough to brush against his shoulders.

“Keep that hood up. This is no place for little girls.”

“I’m not a little girl!” She clamped her mouth shut, immediately wishing she could take the declaration back. Not only because it sounded exactly like what a little girl would say but also because she had not tempered her volume. At all. And though it wasn’t Cassius who caught her, he was here somewhere. She bit her lip in worry, and the stranger’s eyes tracked down to her mouth briefly before darting around her face.

He still held on to her hood, keeping it back enough that he could see her eyes. “So you’re not a little girl. Still doesn’t mean this is any place for you.”

She could not argue with that. “She called you Locke.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes. And?”

“As in . . . Prince Locke?”

He laughed so hard that he released her hood. She rushed to grab it and pull it down to cover her face. She had no doubt people were staring now. He sucked in a breath, and then as if he couldn’t help himself, burst into laughter all over again.

Still chuckling, he said, “I’m about as much a prince, as you are a princess.”

Rora resisted the juvenile impulse to inform him just how much of a princess she was.

“But . . . the name,” she said. “Are you related?” Perhaps he was the person Cassius had come to meet. In which case, she needed to leave now.

“I’d rather die than be related to that poor excuse for royalty. The name is just a name, like any other. Like yours?” he prompted.

Rora’s mind went blank when she tried to invent a name to give him. So instead she shook her head.

“Good. Smart girl. This is a place for secrets. Not truths.” For the first time, Rora looked away from him and her eyes caught on row after row of glass jars and tubes and bottles, each of them glowing like the lanterns she saw when she entered the market. But these weren’t all skyfire. A fat, round jar contained a funnel of black and gray smoke. She squinted, certain that it was moving. That it . . . twisted.

The man, Locke, picked it up, long fingers plucking the jar from the sea of others. Inside was a tiny twister like the one that had killed her brother. She stared at it, stunned into awe. There was something truly beautiful about the way a storm moved. The other jars swirled with different kinds of magic—blizzards and thunderstorms and skyfire and firestorms—each more wondrous than the last. All her life she’d been desperate for magic to call her own, and now it stretched out before her as far as she could see.

The stranger spoke again. “Steer clear of the vendors around the edges. Those are the frauds. Get whatever magic you’re here for, and get out. Don’t talk to anyone unless you must, and for sky’s sake, the next time you come here try to look less . . .”

“Less what?”

He moved closer, peering down through the shadows cast by her hood to meet her eyes. “Less like the kind of pretty girl this place would chew up and spit out long before dawn.”


One lucky winner will win a signed paperback of Roar, plus a special swag bag! U.S. or Canada only entrants, please.

  • To enter, click here and LIKE this Instagram post
  • Make sure to follow @coracarmack and @_vilmairis on Instagram
  • TAG a friend
  • BONUS ENTRY for sharing this post or the Instagram post on any social media channel, just make sure to tag me in your shares!

Winner chosen next Wednesday via Instagram. Good luck, pals!

Follow Cora

Facebook | Twitter | Website

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

follow vbb 2

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | Goodreads | Shop my Instagram


Related Reads:

Excerpt + giveaway: Stay by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy

When it comes to romance, humor and sizzle, the talented duo of Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy is sure to keep you glued to the pages, especially when it comes to their latest book—Stay.

I’m so thrilled to partner up with my blogger sisters Maryse and Natasha to share a sneak peek at the novel and offer your chance to win a signed print copy of the book, out June 20th!

Pre-order: Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble ✦

About Stay

Can you fall for someone you’ve never even met?

Hailey Taylor Emery has a hunch that her favorite client at Fetch–an anonymous virtual assistant service–is actually hockey star Matt Eriksson.

Although it’s against the rules for her to check his file, she’s 95% sure she spends at least part of each day texting with her lifelong crush and catering to his every need. Still nursing a wounded heart thanks to her recent breakup, Hailey is perfectly content with some harmless online flirting…until she has to meet her client. Face to face. Cue: utter panic.
Matt Eriksson is no stranger to heartbreak. He’s still not over the destruction of his marriage, and it sucks to be the only guy on the team who knows the truth–that hockey and long-term relationships are a toxic mix. He barely sees his kids, and dealing with his ex makes him feel insane. The only person in his life who seems to understand is someone who won’t show her pretty face.
But it’s nothing that a pair of fourth row hockey seats can’t fix. Hailey can’t resist the offer. Matt can’t resist Hailey. Good thing he doesn’t have to. Fire up the kiss cam!
Warning: Contains rabid hockey fans, misunderstood dick pics, hockey players at the opera and exploding ovaries.


“Everyone shut it,” I hiss. “Here comes my date. Pretend you’re normal.”

“Good luck with that.” Wes snickers.

“Mamma mia,” Lemming mutters under his breath. “That can’t be your date, Eriksson. She’s too hot for you.”

I want to tell him to keep his trap shut, but there isn’t time. Hottie spots me and smiles. I watch her navigate the busy sidewalk, and I descend a couple of steps to greet her. “Hey, you made it.” I take her hand, then lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek to show my appreciation. Her perfume invites me to linger, so I take a deep breath before I step back. “Thanks for coming.”

She blinks at me for a long moment, then looks down at our clasped hands. “It’s my pleasure.” Her voice is soft and a little tentative, her blue eyes sparkling. I feel the warm buzz of arousal, and I wish I could just hail one of these cabs and ask the driver to take us back to my apartment.

But I can’t, of course. And that’s not what Hailey signed up for.

Right. Opera it is.

“I’ll apologize in advance for my friends,” I say, stalling.

“Why?” She smiles at me again, and it hits me full force. If this is how Hottie looks at me after she’s gotten a little used to me, I may not survive it. “They didn’t shower after practice?”

“It’s not quite that bad,” I manage, smiling back at her. We’re both standing here grinning like a couple of idiots, but I can’t stop. “They’re just kind of rowdy. Not opera fans. Except for Jess.” I tip my head toward Blake’s girlfriend on the stairs.

Hottie glances at my fellow players and shrugs. “I’m from Toronto, Snipes. I’m not afraid of a few hockey players.”

I chuckle. “Snipes?”

“If I have a nickname, you get one, too. It’s only fair.” She gives me an appraising look. “Nice tux. Some smart person must have helped you pick it out.” She licks her lips and glances up at the theater.

I am in so much trouble.

Taking her arm, I lead her up the steps. “Guys, this is H…” I almost say Hottie. “Hailey Taylor Emery.”

“Awesome!” Blake bellows with his usual deafening enthusiasm. “I love a chick with three names! Like, um…” He pauses. “James Earl Jones!”

“Not a chick.” Jess sighs, shaking Hottie’s hand. “Welcome to the asylum.”

“Sarah Jessica Parker,” Wes offers.

“Julia Louis-Dreyfus,” Lemming adds.

I cut off this recitation of stupidity by introducing each of these chuckleheads, and then the lights flash outside the theater, prompting everyone to go inside.

“C’mon, guys!” Jess says, clapping her hands. “I don’t want to miss the beginning!”

“I wouldn’t mind,” someone else mumbles.

We enter the theater and I give Hottie my arm as we climb a curving staircase. Someone shows us to a private box, where another usher waits to hang our coats in a little closet right outside.

“Fancy!” Jess says approvingly.

But I can’t even hear her, because I’ve slipped Hailey’s coat off her shoulders. And now I almost swallow my tongue. She’s wearing a sparkling, backless dress. That’s not even why I’m speechless. Hottie has an intricate tattoo of ivy vines all across her shapely back.

I let out a little moan of longing, and she turns her head with a questioning look. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice a rasp. But no, it ain’t okay. The opera just doubled in length if I have to sit beside her all night trying not to imagine the full picture of those tattoos across her naked body. “Where would you like to sit?” I ask, dragging my reluctant eyes off the swell of her ass.


The box has six armchairs upholstered in velvet. I steer Hailey toward the ones in the front. The others are for Blake, Jess, Wes, and…

“Made it!” Jamie says, appearing in the doorway in a tux.

“Baby!” Wes exclaims with no small amount of surprise.

“My second practice got cancelled. Ran home and changed.”

“Aw. Now I know you love me.” He pulls Jamie in for a kiss.

And then something beautiful happens. Someone on staff offers us glasses of champagne from a cart in the hallway. I hand one to Hailey.

“Classy,” she says.

“We definitely didn’t have drinks last year,” Blake recalls. “It must be the box seats. Sit on my lap, Jessie. It’s almost a party now.”

She perches on his thigh and they clink their glasses together, then kiss.

I’m the last single man on the planet, apparently.

“This is so civilized,” Jess remarks, slipping off Blake’s lap and into her own chair.

“That’s exactly what we don’t like about it,” Wes agrees.

Hailey smiles, and I relax by a degree or two. “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I tell her. “Maybe the opera wouldn’t be your first pick, but I really enjoy your company.”

She glances down for a second, as if she finds it difficult to accept this bit of praise. “It’s nice to step outside my rut sometimes, Snipes.” She lifts her elegant chin. “Have you seen Rigoletto before?”

“I have no idea,” I say without any shame, and she laughs.

When the house lights fade to black a moment later, I smile into the pregnant stillness inside the theater. A couple of coughs and the rustle of clothing are all we hear for a moment.

“Freebird!” Blake whispers from behind me, and I hear Hailey’s giggle even if I can’t see it.

The orchestra starts up with a swell of brass and timpani. When the curtains part, it’s on a bright stage where a big party is taking place, just as Jess described. I try to settle in and watch, but it’s not easy. I’m too aware of Hottie beside me. I want to watch her instead of the opera…


To enter to win a signed paperback of STAY, click here!

Follow Sarina & Elle

Sarina: Website | Facebook | Twitter
Elle: Website | Facebook | Twitter

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

follow vbb 2

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | Goodreads | Shop my Instagram

Exclusive excerpt + giveaway: Buns by Alice Clayton

Alice Clayton’s books have been a long-time favorite of mine. I love how fun they are to read, how they manage to tout the perfect mix of romance and humor. I’m so excited about her next novel, Buns—out May 23rd! As we all anxiously await its arrival, I have an exclusive sneak peek, plus your chance to win a print copy of the book!

Order now: Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble ✦

About Buns

The third in the hilarious yet sizzling hot Hudson Valley series from New York Time and USA TODAY bestselling author Alice Clayton.

Clara Morgan is living the dream, if you can call rebranding hotels that are desperate for a new life and running any kind of marathon a dream. Which she does. But the career she loves and the endurance races that keep her adrenaline pumping have kept her too busy to put down any roots. Growing up in foster care, she’s never been able to establish traditions of her own, which may be why she’s fascinated by the rituals that generations-old family resorts are known for. She’s especially interested in the Bryant Mountain House, and not just for their secret recipe for the yummy, gooey, can’t-get-enough-of Hot Cross Buns….

Archie Bryant, the man with the Buns, is fifth generation and one-day-owner of the charming yet run-down Bryant Mountain House in Bailey Falls, New York. He’s determined to save his family’s legacy from the wrecking ball the old-fashioned way—by gritting his teeth and doing what needs to be done. There’s no way Archie will be influenced by the new hotel branding expert his father brought in to turn one hundred and fifty years of tradition on its head just to attract a faster, younger, slicker crowd. But when some of Clara’s ideas start bringing in new, paying customers, Archie can’t deny that she may have just given him a shot at keeping his resort open.

It’s sticky, it’s messy, it’s sweet, it’s Buns.


I stayed to the right as directed and began to wind my way up up up. The road twisted and turned to the top of the mountain underneath the late-afternoon sky, which was thickening with storm clouds and an ever-increasing gloom. On my left the hillside was covered in trees and thick brambles that’d be bursting with green in a month or so. On the other side the road fell off sharply, the trees giving way every so often to showcase fallen boulders, craggy and rough. I spied a trailhead, clearly marked for guests of Bryant Mountain House, winding into the forest.

The hiking must be incredible up here.

Making a mental note to investigate the off-season trails, I continued up the hill, which at this point was quickly becoming the Mountain in Bryant Mountain House. Turning my wipers up another notch against the now-steady rainfall, I turned around the final bend and there, finally, was the resort.

At least, there was part of it. The enormity of this single structure was too great to be captured in just the windshield of my tiny, impractical, andwholly unsuited for mountain terrain sports car. But what I could see was impressive as hell.

I drove under a stand of weeping willows planted along the road like soldiers, arching across and creating a tunnel effect that in summertime must be stunning. At the ass-end of winter and the equally-as-ugly beginning of spring, the bare limbs feathered together, slick with slush and almost gnarled. Not entirely welcoming.

Shivering slightly, I continued through the archway, getting my next peek at the resort. Rising high into the air, the east wing loomed up suddenly—the real money shot being either the mountain view to the west or the lake view to the east. Six, no, seven stories climbed against the wintry sky. I slowed to a stop to appreciate the architecture—fieldstone mixed with deeply burnished redwood, green shutters, soaring high gray stone chimneys. I whistled as I hit the gas again, once more twisting into the dark woods that surrounded the property. I passed several barns, the stables, the summer garden, and glimpsed just the edge of the championship golf course.

And then the road swung me back around to the front of the resort and the edge of the parking lot. One look at how fast the rain was falling and I immediately opted for valet and gunned it for the covered entryway.

Gunning it in a rain that’s bordering on icy sleet isn’t wise in a boring beige Corolla, and it is for damn sure not recom- mended in a shiny red sports car with rear-wheel drive. I spun out on the last turn, my back end slipping wildly as I clutched the wheel and tried to straighten out. I overcorrected, swung wide, and out of the corner of my eye I caught a man dressed in a green slicker and matching hat gesturing, holding out his hands and yelling.

“Look out!” I cried.
“Stop!” he cried.
I thumped the curb and missed hitting the rain slicker guy

by mere inches, who threw himself to the side at the last second, tumbling into a large shrub.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself, everything suddenly quiet. I looked through the wipers and saw galoshes kicking in the air, the shrub branches thrashing wildly as the man I’d nearly hit fought to climb back out. “Oh my God!”

I jumped out of the car, ran over to the shrub just as he was pulling himself loose. “I’m so sorry, oh no, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

His raincoat, emblazoned with the words Bryant Mountain House, was caught on a limb, his hat was hanging off the back of his head by the string, and one of his galoshes had come loose.

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” he exclaimed, tugging at the branch.

“Can I help you?” I asked, reaching for the tangled limb.

“No no, I think you’ve done enough,” he snapped.
“Well, let me at least see if I can—”

“It’s fine, don’t do that—”
“I think I found where it’s stuck, just—”
“Don’t do that, it’s going to tear, it’s really fine, it’s—watch

The branch tore free, taking with it half of the raincoat, thwapping him upside the head as it rustled and resettled back into the bush.

“Wow, I can’t believe that just . . . I’m so sorry.”
“It’s. Fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
The two of us stared at each other. I felt terrible. He looked frustrated.

I clasped my hands behind my back, looked around, then

tried to smile. “So, where do I check in?”

Series reading order

Each can be read as a standalone


To win a print copy of the book:

  • Share this post using the social media buttons below
  • Come back and comment on this post with the link you shared
  • Follow Alice Clayton and Vilma Gonzalez (me) on Instagram (or Facebook if you don’t have Instagram)

U.S. entrants only, winner chosen Sunday, April 30th

Follow Alice

Facebook | Twitter | Website

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

follow vbb 2

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | Goodreads | Shop my Instagram

Related Reads:

New giveaway: Defy the Stars by Claudia Gray

From the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Lost Stars and Bloodline comes a thrilling sci-fi adventure that Kass Morgan, bestselling author of The 100 series, calls “startlingly original and achingly romantic…nothing short of masterful.”

Get the book: Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble ✦

So excited to partner with Little, Brown to share this amazing giveaway with you! One winner gets:

  • Copy of Defy the Stars
  • Constellation sweatshirt
  • “Mostly Human” coffee mug

See a pic of what you can win here! U.S. entrants only. Please click the photo above for details on how to enter via Instagram! Winner chosen Sunday, April 9th.

Meanwhile, check out some fun links to get the scoop on Defy the Stars!

About Defy the Stars

Our worlds belong to us.

She’s a soldier.

Noemi Vidal is seventeen years old and sworn to protect her planet, Genesis. She’s willing to risk anything–including her own life. To their enemies on Earth, she’s a rebel.

He’s a machine.

Abandoned in space for years, utterly alone, Abel has advanced programming that’s begun to evolve. He wants only to protect his creator, and to be free. To the people of Genesis, he’s an abomination.

Noemi and Abel are enemies in an interstellar war, forced by chance to work together as they embark on a daring journey through the stars. Their efforts would end the fighting for good, but they’re not without sacrifice. The stakes are even higher than either of them first realized, and the more time they spend together, the more they’re forced to question everything they’d been taught was true.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Visit the Official Site
Follow TheNOVL on Twitter and Instagram
Follow Claudia Gray on Twitter

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

follow vbb 2

Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | Goodreads | Shop my Instagram