NOTICE:

This blog will be closing down as of November 1st 2015.

All posts will be moved to my tumblr page:
AshleyAnneReadsThings.com

Please follow me there!

Also, my email address has changed to

ashley@ashleyannereadsthings.com

Thanks lovelies!

~Ashley

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Book Tour: Excerpt | New York Dolls | Catherine L. Hensley


New Adult / Women's Fiction / Chick LitDate Published: November 17, 2014
It’s Fashion Week in New York, and Denton Hodges just got her first big assignment for Glitter magazine.

Denton’s assignment: Get in the show at the posh Regency Viscount Hotel, and find a story. But a chance encounter with hard-partying starlet Amber Donovan forever changes the course of the night—and Denton’s life. After a night of being chased by the paparazzi, swimming in swag bags, and falling heart over heels for Hollywood hunk Chris West, Denton’s not just on the story. She is the story.

Suddenly, Denton’s no longer merely a low-level assistant. Amber’s latching on like a BFF from hell, Chris is flirting and cooking her dinner, and as Denton falls for the real people behind the tabloid screen, neither knows about her ties to Glitter. Only Denton holds the secret—or so she thinks. Is Anna Creel, Glitter’s icy beauty editor, on to her? Will Denton be able to write a story exposing her new friends? And is Chris more than just a friend, or did Glitter get the headline right—“Chris and Amber: Hot Nights!”?

Step into the spotlight, and peek beyond the red carpet in New York Dolls.

Pre-Order Now!

EXCERPT
Chapter 1
2008

“THE SHOW’S AT FIFTY-SEVENTH AND Seventh. Here’s your press badge and mini mic. If you see anyone, just be casual, make chit-chat, see what they think of the show. We’ve heard Amber Donovan may be there, but nothing’s confirmed. Just try to blend in, have some drinks. It starts at five thirty. Oh, and remember...you’re Anna Creel.”
Right. My first assignment! I never thought it would involve false aliases and conversational spying for Glitter magazine, but...my first assignment! At New York City’s Fashion Week nonetheless. Something I had absolutely no experience or serious interest in, but I wouldn’t have to worry about that tonight. I’d be Anna Creel. She knows all about the fashion in-crowd. Right?
“Isn’t Anna...?” I started to ask my boss, Liz. “She’s our fashion and beauty editor,” Liz replied. Right. Then why isn’t she...
“We have too many shows booked this week. She already has Malandrino and Posen tonight. She doesn’t have time for Isla Dominici. Just smile and keep your eyes and ears open when you get there. Be yourself!”
“As Anna Creel,” I muttered.
“Right!”
Liz was friendly. Maybe not one hundred percent genuine, but this was Glitter after all. You don’t get to be chief editorial assistant of the country’s biggest and most popular celebrity magazine by being your real self. I’d heard she was a Manhattan import, just like myself, but from some little town in Michigan. She hid it relatively well. No accent, three-inch stilettos, a skin-tight suit dress, and a conspicuously obvious D&G belt can make anyone look like a tried and true New York power woman. But Liz was plumper and didn’t look quite as polished as some of the other reporters, and she spoke with a monotone, to-the-point voice, all of which kept her from entirely fitting the Glitter mold. If I ever needed someone in the office to watch my back, I knew Liz, with our shared outsider origins, could do the job.
Watch my back? At Glitter? I couldn’t believe I was thinking so ruthlessly. But this place was cutthroat. I could tell after only a few days. (I bet the editorial assistant underlings at Martha Stewart Living weren’t so fearful. On second thought...maybe they were.) You didn’t advance at Glitter through sheer hard work and determination, and it certainly didn’t involve climbing the traditional corporate ladder. Getting the scoop—or the source—was your most important job function. Even if it meant seducing the married hunk who’s on the number-two-ranked drama on television.
“If something like that were to happen...and of course it does not... We obviously don’t condone that kind of behavior here,” Liz had told the other two EAs and myself after the office gossip broke on my second day. “But that wasn’t me.”
To get to the top of the hottest weekly celeb rag, apparently the rules of deception were the rules of the game. Anna Creel I would be then, for tonight at least.

About The Author
Catherine L. Hensley is a professional freelance editor and writer. From fiction and nonfiction manuscripts to academic pieces, she provides an extensive range of copyediting, proofreading, content editing, and writing services to a wide variety of clients located around the United States and abroad.

A native of south Louisiana, Catherine received her master of arts degree in creative writing and media studies from New York University and her bachelor of arts degree in English from Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, with minors in history and mass communication. Her writing has appeared in The Advocate (Louisiana’s largest newspaper), OT Practice magazine, Quiet Mountain: New Feminist Essays, and Mused, the BellaOnline Literary Review. For more, visit www.catherinehensley.com.



Twitter:  @NYDollsTheNovel

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Blog Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway | Being A Jett Girl | Meghan Quinn



About Being A Jett Girl
How did I become a Jett Girl?
Hell if I know, one moment I’m working at the premiere spot for creepy men and sloppy drunks and the next, I’m being whisked away by a moody ex-boxer and a mysterious man in a suit that overlooks his girls from the third floor of the Lafayette Club.
It wasn’t easy but now that I’m a Jett Girl, there is only one thing on my mind and that is Jett Colby.
He has captured me, stolen my heart and entwined my soul into his at such an alarming rate that it seems almost difficult to breathe without him holding me, touching me, kissing me...
He won’t give me his heart though, he won’t let me own every last inch of him and not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want to jeopardize my ambiguity.
Because of this, there is only one thing standing in my way when it comes to completely and utterly living my life with Jett Colby and it’s called Lot 17.

Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble 

Becoming a Jett Girl: Amazon B&N Goodreads

EXCERPT
“You’re fucking mine,” I stated as I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to my lips. His forearms landed on the floor and he encased my face with his strong hands. His thumbs ran circular motions around my cheeks as he kissed me back, with the same force that I was kissing him.
One of his hands ran down my side and connected with the opening of my slit where he guided my dress up a little farther. I waited breathlessly for his next move, for him to figure out my little surprise.
His hand kept moving forward and once it hit my hip, he pulled away from me and looked down into my eyes confused.
“Are you wearing any underpants?”
With a smirk, I shook my head no.
His jaw clenched as he studied me. I waited nervously for his reply.
“When were you going to tell me this?”
“I wasn’t,” I replied as I moved my hips into his, eliciting a groan from him.
“You’ve been very naughty, little one, keeping such a secret from me.”
“Isn’t naughty good?”
“Do you have a response for everything?”
“Almost always,” I said with a grin.
He bowed his head and shook it as he tried to regain himself.
The limo came to a stop and Jett looked up to see out the window. He got up off me and pulled me up onto the seat.
He leaned into my ear as the car door opened and he said, “Your time is up, little one. Meet me in the Bourbon Room in five minutes. Stand in the middle, next to the table, wear one of your business shirts and make sure your hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I plan on riding the fuck out of you tonight while I grip that beautiful mane of yours.” He didn’t give me a chance to reply because he was out of the door in no time.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.



About the Author: 
When I was in high school I occasionally read books but was consumed by other teenage things so I didn't take the time to appreciate a good book on a cloudy day, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. It wasn't until I received a Kindle for Christmas one year that my world completely flipped upside down. When looking for books I came across the Contemporary Romance genre and was sold and I haven't turned back since.
You can either find my head buried in my Kindle, listening to inspiring heart ripping music or typing away on the computer twisting and turning the lives of my characters while driving my readers crazy with anticipation.
I currently reside in beautiful Colorado Springs where the sun is always shining and there is a trail waiting to be hiked on every corner. I share a lovely and warm home with the love of my life and my five, four-legged.

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Monday, December 29, 2014

Blog Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway | Gone Too Far | Natalie D. Richards


Gone Too Far
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
Release Date: January 6th 2015

Synopsis:

Keeping secrets ruined her life. But the truth might just kill her.

Piper Woods can't wait for the purgatory of senior year to end. She skirts the fringes of high school like a pro until the morning she finds a notebook with mutilated photographs and a list of student sins. She's sure the book is too gruesome to be true, until pretty, popular Stella dies after a sex-tape goes viral. Everyone's sure it's suicide, but Piper remembers Stella's name from the book and begins to suspect something much worse.

Drowning in secrets she doesn't want to keep, Piper's fears are confirmed when she receives an anonymous text message daring her to make things right. All she needs to do is choose a name, the name of someone who deserves to be punished...

Add to Goodreads
Buy it Now:

EXCERPT
Chapter One

Late. So late. I slam the car door behind me and race across the parking lot. My hair is tangled in the strap of my messenger bag, my shoes are untied, and I have no idea how I’m going to get to my locker without getting caught. I have to try because I need those chemistry notes.

Technically I needed them last night when I’d actually had the time to study for my midterm, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. I know the materials and I figured I could do a little last-minute cramming during first period homeroom. It was a decent plan until my phone battery died, taking my morning alarm down with it. Now I’ll be lucky to catch the last ten minutes of first period.

I hop the curb and slow as I slide into the shadow of the ancient brick school. It’s probably not classy to barrel through the door like an escaped convict. Of course, it probably wasn’t classy flying into the parking lot doing Mach 2 either.

I check my barely charged phone for the time as I climb the first step. My foot slips on something halfway up the stairs. It’s like hitting a patch of ice. I lunge gor the handrail and jerk myself upright, glaring down at the thing that tripped me –a dropped notebook.

Nothing special. It’s a plain, spiral-bound pad, the kind you can get at the drugstore for less than a buck. Pretty much worthless, excerpt I know it’s probably chock-full of notes. Notes seomone will need during midterm week. 

Oh, fine.

I snatch the notebook off the steps and shove it into my bag. Lost and Found is going to have to wait though. It’s in the student store, which is on the opposite side of the school. 


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
At seven, Natalie D. Richards wrote about Barbara Frances Bizzlefishes (who wouldn't dare do the dishes.) Now she writes about awesome girls, broody boys, and all things dark and creepy. Natalie lives in Ohio (Go Bucks!) with her techno-wiz husband, three amazing kids, and a seventy pound dust-mop who swears he's the family dog. Her psychological thriller, Six Months Later, will be released in October 1, 2013 by Sourcebooks Fire. Until then, you'll probably find her writing her next book or trying to wade through the towers of dog-eared paperbacks that have taken over her bedroom.

AUTHOR LINKS:

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Sunday, December 21, 2014

{Way Past Due} New to the Shelf 11.30-12.21


Purchased 
from book depository



The Retribution of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin
The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin
(I accidentally purchased two of Unbecoming instead of one & a copy of Evolution...
Gave away my second copy to a blog twitter follower though
)
Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephanie Perkins
A Thousand Pieces of You by Claudia Gray

Won in #Giveaways
From the Two Blue Lines Blog Tour-- From SC Montgomery
I love this book. 

From ARCycling :) 

For Blog Tour Reviews
The Case of the Jewel Covered Cat Statues by Cindy Vincent 
The Schwarzschild Radius by Gustavo Florentin
(Look for these reviews in the coming months!)

For Participating in a Blog Tour
A League of Her Own by Karen Rock

Sent for potential review
The Other Inheritance by Rebecca Jaycox
The Valley by John Renehan
Irritable Hearts: A PTSD Love Story by Mac McClelland
The Sirena Quest by Michael A . Kahn
The Magician's Daughter by Judith Janeway

It's been a pretty slow 3 weeks or so. This will probably be my last post until after Christmas. At that time I hope to have a few reviews ready to go. I read WAY to many books this year I didn't write reviews for. I plan to make a list of 2015 accomplishments that I want to aim for next year. Hoping to provide more reviews and sign up for less blog tours. I made a rookie mistake and signed up for too much of everything to start with and my blog has suffered. But a new year is coming! 

If this is my last post..... I wish you all Happy Holidays. Be Safe & Have a Wonderful Time. 

Love you guys!

-Ashley



Friday, December 19, 2014

Book Blitz & Giveaway | Lessons in Love | Clarissa Carlyle


Lessons in Love (Lessons in Love #1)
Release Date: 02/24/14
New Adult
183 pages

Summary from Goodreads:
Book 1 in the Lessons in Love New Adult Romance series

The Lessons in Love series follows the story of high school cheerleader Alex Heron. She's pretty, blonde and popular. Alex seems to have it all, but she's hiding a dark secret from her past that threatens to destroy her future. Only the handsome new math teacher, Mark Simmons, can see past Alex's façade to the real girl hiding inside. He wants to help Alex overcome her past, but will their developing feelings for each other get in the way?

Buy Links:
(CURRENTLY FREE)
Amazon USApple iTunesBarns & NobleKobo

Books in the Lessons in Love series:
Lessons in Love – http://bit.ly/LessonsinLove
Letters of Love – http://bit.ly/LettersofLove
Living with Love – http://bit.ly/LivingwithLove

About the Author
I have been an avid reader and and writer since my earliest school days. Reading was my first and earliest passions, often seeking the safe sanctuary of my room or the library to read everything I could. My favorite has been romance. I penned some romantic poetry in high school and was winning school awards for my short stories when I was just 16. In college I would hibernate in the library for days at a time, consuming every short story and novel I could find. My diploma says Bachelors in English Lit. which I'm very proud of.

I probably drink too much coffee and eat too much junk food, but to compensate do like running when the weather is nice. I love shopping in the mall even if I never find what I'm looking for. I'm a hopeful romantic who prefers novels with a happy ending.

Author Links:
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GIVEAWAY:

Book Blitz Organized by:

M9B Friday Reveal: Chapter One of I Heart Robot by Suzanne van Rooyen and Giveaway #M9BFridayReveals

M9B-Friday-Reveal
Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!
This week, we are revealing the first chapter for

I Heart Robot by Suzanne van Rooyen

presented by Month9Books!
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
I Heart Robot
Sixteen-year-old Tyri wants to be a musician and wants to be with someone who won’t belittle her musical aspirations.
Q-I-99 aka ‘Quinn’ lives in a scrap metal sanctuary with other rogue droids. While some use violence to make their voices heard, demanding equal rights for AI enhanced robots, Quinn just wants a moment on stage with his violin to show the humans that androids like him have more to offer than their processing power.
Tyri and Quinn’s worlds collide when they’re accepted by the Baldur Junior Philharmonic Orchestra. As the rift between robots and humans deepens, Tyri and Quinn’s love of music brings them closer together, making Tyri question where her loyalties lie and Quinn question his place in the world. With the city on the brink of civil war, Tyri and Quinn make a shocking discovery that turns their world inside out. Will their passion for music be enough to hold them together while everything else crumbles down around them, or will the truth of who they are tear them apart?
add to goodreads
Title: I Heart Robot
Publication date: March 31, 2015
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Suzanne van Rooyen
Chapter-by-Chapter-header---Excerpt

Tyri

If today were a song, it'd be a dirge in b-flat minor. The androids cluster around the coffin, their false eyes brimming with mimetic tears. They were made to protect and serve their human masters, to entertain and care for us. Now, just one generation later, we toss them in the trash like nothing more than broken toasters.
The androids huddle in a semicircle, four adults and a child droid with synthetic curls. They all look so human; their grief real even if their tears aren't. The two male-droids are even good looking in that chiseled, adboard model kind of way. They're a little too perfect. With their machine strength, they lower the cardboard box into the dirt and the child droid begins to sing. His exquisite voice shatters like crystal in my ears, heartbreaking.
Asrid and I shouldn't be here—the only two humans amongst the machines—but I loved Nana. I loved her before I knew better than to feel anything for a robot. It doesn't matter how attached you get. A robot can never love you back, regardless of how human their advanced AI might make them seem.
“Why're they burying it anyway?” Asrid mutters beside me. My friend doesn't wear black to the funeral, refusing to acknowledge the passing of my nanamaton, an android that always seemed more like a mom and less like an automated child-minder.
“Should be sending it to the scrap heap. Isn't this against regulation?” Asrid's face scrunches up in a frown, marring her impeccable makeup. She’s a peacock amongst ravens, and I’m a scruffy crow.
“Nana was like a mother to me. I'll miss her.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes as the coffin disappears into the earth, and the droid keens a eulogy.
“I know you will, T.” Asrid gives me a one-armed hug.
Svartkyrka Cemetery is losing the battle to weeds. Human tombstones from back when there was real estate for corpses lie in crumbling ruin covered in pigeon poop. No one gets buried anymore—there's no space and, anyway, it's unsanitary.
“Can we go now?” Asrid hops between feet to fight off the chill. Autumn has shuffled closer to winter, the copper and russet leaves crunching beneath our shoes. The leaves look like scabs, a carpet of dried blood spilling into the open earth. Fitting for my nanamaton's funeral, but robots can’t bleed.
“Sure, we can go.”
Asrid wends her way toward the parking lot as I approach the grave. Nana loved yellow anemones, said they were like sunshine on a stick.
“Hope there’s sunshine where you are now, Nana.” I drop a single flower into the ground and wipe away the tear snailing down my cheek. Why Nana chose to permanently shut down and scramble her acuitron brain, I can only guess. Perhaps living in a world controlled by groups like the People Against Robot Autonomy, PARA for short, became too much for her.
“Sorry for your loss,” the child droid says in a tinkling voice.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I say.
“She would've wanted you to be here.” The other nanamaton, gray haired and huddled in a trench coat, doesn't meet my gaze.
I stuff my mitten-covered hands into the pockets of my jacket and hunch my shoulders against the chill. You'd think the universe might have had the courtesy to rain given the sullen occasion, but the sun perches in an acid blue sky.
“Tyri, you coming?” Asrid shouts from the gate, remembering too late that we're supposed to be stealthy. Government regulation stipulates cremation for humans and scrap heaps for robots. If the authorities discover us committing metal and electronics to the earth instead of recycling, Asrid and I will be fined. The robots will be decommissioned on the spot.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to the androids before turning away. Their artificial gaze follows me, boring into my back sharp as a laser.
“Botspit, I'm hungry. I could gnaw on a droid. Where're we going to lunch?” Asrid ignores the dead and grieving as if none of it exists.
“I think I'll just go home.”
“Come on, T. I know she was your Nana but she was just a robot, you know.”
Just a robot! Nana changed my diapers. My first day of kindergarten, Nana held my hand. When I came home from school, Nana made me cocoa and sat helping me with homework. Nana cooked my favourite dumpling dinner every Wednesday and made me double-chocolate birthday cake. Nana taught me how to tie my shoelaces and braid my hair. The day I turned sixteen, Mom decided we didn't need Nana anymore. She should've been decommissioned then, but Nana disappeared the day before Mom's M-Tech buddies came to kill her core and reprocess her parts.
“She was more than that to me,” I say.
“Ah, you're adorable.” Asrid casts nervous glances across the lot. Satisfied no policemen lurk behind the bushes, she slips her arm through mine and drags me through the gate. The wrought iron is warped and daubed with rust. Marble angels stand sentinel, broken and stained by time. One misses a nose, and the other has lost a wing.
“You didn't say anything about my new bug.” Asrid pouts when we reach her vehicle. The hoverbug is neon pink, matching her shoes, handbag, and the ribbons holding up her blond hair. The 'E' badge that stands for Engel Motors looks more like a spastic frog than the angel it's supposed to represent.
“Is it meant to smell like cherries?” Even the plush interior is unicorn puke pink. I put on my sunglasses in case all that color stains my eyes.
“Yes, in fact.” Asrid flicks a switch and the engine purrs. “Slipstream Waffles.” She assumes that monotone voice she always uses when addressing machines.
The last thing I want is to sit on sticky vinyl in a noisy waffle house, indulging in sugar and calories served by permanently smiling droids on roller-skates.
“Take me home to Vinterberg.”
“Tyri, don't annoy me.”
“Sassa, Don't patronize me.” I give her the glare she knows better than to argue with.
“Vinterberg,” I say again and Asrid heaves a melodramatic sigh.
“Be boring. Going home to make love to your violin?”
“Why ask when you know the answer?” Nana's coffin lowering into the ground replays in my mind to a soundtrack in b-flat minor.
“How does Rurik put up with being the other love of your life?”
It's my turn to sigh. Rurik doesn't really put up with it or even understand why I love music so much. But then, I don't understand why he gets so hung up on politics, and I definitely don't understand why he didn't show up for Nana's funeral when he knows how much she meant to me.
“We manage.” I stare out the tinted windows at the darkened scenery whipping past.
The hoverbug takes the quickest route, zipping along the street ways that skirt the chaotic center of Baldur. The jungle of concrete and steel thins out into a tree-shrouded suburb studded with modest brick homes. Rurik calls my redbrick bungalow quaint, and it is, complete with flower boxes and a patch of green lawn out back. It’s nothing at all like his dad's slick penthouse, all glass and chrome with a panoramic view of the city. The funny thing is, Rurik used to live right next-door till his mom had the affair and his dad became a workaholic, transforming the family business into an automotive empire.
The hoverbug slows and lands in my driveway.
“I'll call you later,” I say before disembarking.
“You heard anything yet?”
“No, but tomorrow is the last day so I'll hear soon.” I'm trying not to think about why it's taking so long to hear back after my audition for the Baldur Junior Philharmonic Orchestra.
“You'll get in T. I'm sure of it. You're brilliant.”
Asrid's words make me smile despite the morbidity of the day. She waves and the hoverbug zooms off, leaving me in the rustling-leave calm of Vinterberg.
I press my thumb to the access pad and the front door hisses open. Mom's at work like always. Taking off my coat and shoes, I whistle for Glitch. She pads into the hallway, her face lopsided from sleep. She stretches and sits down with a decisive humph as if to say, 'Well, human, I'm here. Now, worship me.' And I do.
“Hey my Glitchy girl.” I fold my cyborg Shiba Inu into my arms and sweep her off the floor. Her mechatronic back leg sticks out straight and stiff, the rest of her soft and warm. She licks my ear, one paw on my forehead.
“Good afternoon, Tyri. Would you like some refreshments?” Miles whirs out of the kitchen into the hallway. He's nothing like Nana, just a bipedal mass of electronics and metal with assorted appendages capable of mundane tasks. He doesn't even have eyes, only a flashing array of lights. Despite Mom designing a new generation of androids for M-Tech, we can't afford the new model housebot. Maybe it's better this way. I don't feel much for our bot, but I dubbed him Miles. It seemed to fit.
“Would you like some refreshments?” he repeats.
“Tea and a sandwich.” I carry Glitch into my bedroom at the back of the house. Glitch leaps from my arms, landing on the bed where she curls up in a knot of black, white, and tan fur amongst my pillows.
Still in my black lace skirt and corset, I stretch and flex my fingers. Twisting the cricks from my neck and rolling my shoulders, I ease out the graveyard tension. My violin lies in a bed of blue velvet, waiting for my touch. With the strings in tune and the bow sufficiently taut, the instrument nestles against my jaw as if I was born with a gap there just for the violin. It completes me.
I warm-up my fingers, letting them trip over the strings as my bow arcs and glides. Then I'm ready to play: Beethoven's Kreutzer violin sonata in A major, Nana's favorite. Glitch's ears twitch back and forth. She raises her head to howl but thinks better of it, yawning and curling back into sleep.
The frenzied opening of the sonata segues into a melancholy tune and in the brief moment of calm, my moby warbles at me. I have mail. I try to ignore the distraction and play through the screeching reminder of an unread message, but it might be the one I've been anticipating.
Vibrating in my hand, the moby blinks at me: One unread email. Subject: BPO audition.
“This is it, Glitchy.”
She raises her head as I sit beside her. One hand buried in her fur, I open the email. The words blur together, pixelate and run like wet ink across the screen. Disbelief makes my vision swim. I have to read the message several times over to make sure I haven't misunderstood.
“Codes! I got in.” Blood warms my cheeks as I whisk Glitch into my arms, spinning her around before squeezing her to my chest. She does not approve and scratches at me until I drop her back on the bed. Miles enters with a tray of tea and neat triangular sandwiches.
“Miles, I got in! I'm going to play for the junior BPO. This is amazing.” I'm jumping up and down.
Miles flashes orange. “Could not compute. Please restate.”
“I'm going to play for the best junior orchestra in the country. This could be my chance to break into the scene, to meet all the right people, and make an impression!” My one chance to escape the life already planned for me by Mom. The last thing I want to be is a robot technician.
Miles keeps flashing orange. “Apologies, Tyri. Could not compute, but registering joy.” His visual array flashes green. “Happy birthday!” He says in his clipped metallic voice before leaving the room.
I clutch the moby and read the email another ten times before calling Mom. I reach her voicemail, and my joy tones down a notch. I don't want to talk to another machine, so I hang up and call Rurik instead.
“Hey, Tyri. Now's not a good time. Can I call you back later?”
“I got in,” I say.
“To the orchestra?”
“Yes!”
“That's great.” He doesn't sound half as happy as I am.
“Thanks, I'm so excited, but kind of scared too—”
“T, I'm just in the middle of something. I'll call you back in a bit, okay?” He hangs up, leaving me babbling into silence.
Deflated, I slump onto the floor and rest my head on the bed. Glitch shuffles over to give me another ear wash, delicately nibbling around my earrings. I should've known Rurik would be busy getting ready to go to Osholm University. Getting a scholarship to the most prestigious school in all of Skandia is way more impressive than scoring a desk in the Baldur Junior Orchestra. Still, I received better acknowledgment from the housebot than my boyfriend. I call Asrid.
“Hey T, what's up?” Asrid answers with Sara's high-pitched giggle in the background.
“I got in!”
“That's awesome, except I guess that means more practicing and less time with your friends, huh?” Asrid sounds genuinely put out, as if she’d even notice my absence when Sara's around. Codes, isn't there someone who could just be happy for me? Maybe Mom’s right, and I am being selfish wanting the “Bohemian non-existence” when I could have a “sensible and society-assisting” career in robotics.
“Sorry, I . . . thought you'd like to know.”
“I'm happy for you, Tyri. I know it's a big deal to you. Congrats. Seriously, you deserve this considering how hard you practice,” Asrid says, and Sara shouts congratulations in the background.
“Thanks, Sassa.”
“Hey, our food arrived. Chat later?”
“Sure.” I hang up and reach for my violin. Nana would've understood. She would've danced around the living room with me. She probably would've baked me a cake and thrown a party. Determined not to cry, I skip the second movement of Beethoven's sonata and barrel straight into the jaunty third. The notes warp under my fingers, and the tune slides into b-flat minor.
Two days until the first rehearsal. Maybe I’ll be able to do something different with my life; something that makes me happy instead of just useful.
Chapter-by-Chapter-header---About-the-Author
Suzanne van RooyenSuzanne is a tattooed storyteller from South Africa. She currently lives in Finland and finds the cold, dark forests nothing if not inspiring. Although she has a Master’s degree in music, Suzanne prefers conjuring strange worlds and creating quirky characters. When not writing, she teaches dance and music to middle schoolers and entertains her shiba inu, Lego. Suzanne is represented by Jordy Albert of the Booker Albert Agency.
Connect with the Author:  Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads



Chapter-by-Chapter-header---Giveaway
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