Title: Reap
Genre: Young Adult Paranormal Romance
Page Count: 92
Blurb: Foreign, or rather unfamiliar, would be the word I
would use to describe how I felt.
Faintly, I could hear the glimmer of voices
surrounding me in this dark haze, caressing my ears like skin against silk. I
felt like I was in a cocoon of sorts, protectively enveloped, quietly drifting
in some far-off place. I wanted to stay that way forever.
But we all know that what you want never really
seems to happen in the real world.
Something’s not right in Mia’s head.
The first thing is that her name isn’t Mia. In fact,
she has no clue what her name is—who she is. All that she knows is that she’s
not like the ones who found her: Dante with his kind blue eyes, Amy with her
child-like demeanor, James with his questioning gaze.
And Briggs.
The one she cannot decipher no matter how hard she
tries.
As Mia tries to fit in with these people, a strange
occurrence is amidst outside. And as she finally remembers who she is …
Well, let’s just say that things get a little more
complicated.
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Bio: A dreamer, Christina Channelle holds
two degrees in health sciences but has always had a passion for writing. You
will find her reading other young adult novels, or typing up a new story on her
computer. When not writing, Christina spends her free time at the movies,
listening to music, or eating sushi. She’s a reality TV junkie and has a close
relationship with many characters on TV that have been a topic of many heated
discussions among friends. She resides in Ontario ,
Canada
Author Links:
Facebook:
http://facebook.com/ChristinaChannelle
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/channellewrites
There will be an hourly giveaway on Facebook
starting at 2pm ET and running through till 10pm ET, on the profile www.facebook.com/ash.torbeck. Facebook is in no way affiliated with this
giveaway, and prizes will be awarded and distributed by the author, Christina
Channelle. Hourly giveaways will end at 10pm ET, and to find out how to win,
you’ll have to stop by each hour!
Reap – Excerpt
I opened
my eyes but had to squeeze them shut against the harsh lights. My lids felt
swollen, heavy with fatigue. My eyes burned, tears leaking from their corners.
It
was the most uncomfortable of feelings.
I
must have been dreaming.
“Hello?”
Although
the word seemed alien to me, almost as if I had never heard it before, I
instantly understood its meaning. The voice that had spoken was warm, making me
feel as if I were suddenly sitting in front of a fireplace, wrapped in a heavy
blanket, flames crackling. The heat of the word practically licked my skin.
Again,
I tried opening my eyes, this time a bit more cautiously. Blinking, I slowly
adjusted to the artificial lights, now able to see.
I
found myself staring back into a pair of bright blue eyes, a look of wariness
in their depths. For a brief moment I couldn’t look away as I stared up at him.
Then he cleared his throat and glanced away, as if uncomfortable with my gaze.
With the spell of his eyes broken, it was then that I noticed I was lying on
the ground—no, on hardwood floor.
And
with not one, but three interested faces peering down at me.
I
sat up, then winced at the abruptness of my movement, bringing my hand to the
back of my head.
Pain, my mind whispered.
“Careful
now.”
I
directed my eyes toward the person who had spoken such kind words. It was the
first person I had noticed, the one with the blue eyes and the warm voice. His
voice was deep and calming, and as I sat there I tried to think of the emotion
I should be experiencing. Inhaling softly, I closed my eyes, ignored the
painful throb in my head, and waited for the proper term to flutter into my
mind.
Gratitude.
“Where
did you come from?”
Satisfied
I had found the correct word, I opened my eyes again to the voice speaking to
me. It was a pleasant voice, reassuring to say the least, and immediately
captured my attention.
At
that moment, I didn’t notice the black hair atop his head, a striking contrast
against his blue eyes that looked like I was staring into an ocean. I didn’t
notice that the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled kindly at me,
complementing the single dimple in his right cheek. By just looking at him,
anyone could tell that he was someone who knew how to laugh. But I didn’t
notice any of that.
All
those things I would notice later.
I
stared at the corner of his lips as he continued to speak, not toward me, but
to the others present in the room. “Guys … I don’t think she understands a word
I’m saying,” he mumbled softly, as if afraid I’d be insulted at the notion of
not comprehending him.
“I
like her,” stated the girl kneeling next to him. She looked quite outrageous
wearing a short black dress with a black choker wrapped around her neck, pink
shiny embezzlements adorning it. Her white-blonde hair was extremely long,
almost past her lower back, as the ends brushed the floor. I directed my gaze
to her face and found blue eyes staring down at me.
Her
eyes were identical to the man’s.
“It’s
always the silent ones we should be weary of.” The words themselves were harsh,
but as I looked to my right I was greeted by a kind smile with equally kind
brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses. They belonged to a man casually sitting
on a couch, his shoulder-length dark brown hair tied back. As he continued to
stare, he tilted his head to the side as if analyzing a computer software
program that wouldn’t work properly.
I
guess I was the computer software program.
“James,
help me out, will you?” the man with the blue eyes asked calmly. The man on the
couch, James, stood up and slowly sauntered over to my side, then both he and
the blue-eyed man grabbed my arms and brought me to my feet. I didn’t protest,
shuffling alongside them as we entered a kitchen, where they placed me on a
wooden chair next to a table.
Sinking
down into the hard chair, I averted my eyes downwards and focused on a crack on
the wooden table. I knew I was still being stared at, three pairs of eyes
boring holes into the crown of my head.
It
was difficult not to look up but I managed. I needed a distraction, so I
started to trace the crack on the table instead, feeling the texture of the
wood as it scraped against my skin.
I
find wood to be … quite rough in manner.
“Here
you go.” That calming voice spoke once again and I looked up to find a glass of
orange juice placed in front of me. It was in that instant that I realized that
I was thirsty. I reached for the glass, instinctively bringing the rim
to my lips. The juice was cool down my throat.
Refreshing.
This
was familiar: the taste of juice in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I licked my lips
slowly, trying to memorize this feeling. Perhaps if I stayed like this long
enough, I would be brought back to that time of familiarity….
“Yo,
Briggs!” James’ voice beamed through the kitchen and I startled, setting the
glass on the table, the clanking of the glass hitting the wood almost palpable
to my ears. I hadn’t noticed the front door had opened—I believe an apartment building was where we were located—and a new
presence had entered the living room. I looked over to where he stood by the
stairs, utterly still. Although we were indoors, he wore sunglasses. And even
though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew they stared directly at me, hard as
stone.
He
didn’t like me.
If
the man with the blue eyes was warm like a fire on a cold winter day, this man
was like the wood I had just caressed: rough, jagged.
Broken.
