February 24, 2015

Chosen by Christine Pope PROMO Blitz


Paranormal Romance
Date Published: February 4, 2015

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It began as a fever of unknown origin that its victims dubbed “the Heat,” but as it burned through most of the world’s population, it became known simply as “the Dying.” And for those left behind, the struggle has just begun….

In the aftermath of the Dying, survivor Jessica Monroe is protected and guided by the gentle voice of an invisible being she thinks of as her guardian angel. When she reaches the sanctuary he’s provided for her, however, she realizes that her unseen companion is no angel at all. The destruction of humanity was only the first step in a much larger plan, and now Jessica must struggle to discover her own role in a frightening new world where everything has changed.

Excerpt

Now was the time to say a few words, but nothing seemed to come to mind. I couldn’t even remember the Lord’s Prayer, or more than the first few words of the Twenty-third Psalm.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” I began, then shook my head. What came next? The lines were all jumbled together in my head, nonsense syllables that sounded like something straight out of “Jabberwocky.” And what did it matter, anyway? We weren’t a religious family; we went to Christmas Eve services some years and some years not, maybe Easter. I’d gone to Sunday school when I was really little, but my parents hadn’t even bothered with that when Devin came along.
For the longest time I stood there under the oak, the sun disappearing altogether, deep dusk falling upon the yard. Then I moved, and the motion-sensor light mounted to the side of the garage flashed on.
“I love you all,” I said finally, then set the Waterford vase and the football trophy on top of their grave.

After that, I went back inside and shut the door behind me. It seemed to echo in the unnatural stillness of the house, and I realized it was hardly ever this quiet — someone always had the TV on in the background, or there was music playing, or somebody talking on the phone. Now the quiet pounded against my eardrums, and I realized how big a three-bedroom, two-thousand-square-foot house could feel when you were the only one in it.

The only one in the world….

The thought whispered through my mind, and I did my best to ignore it. Surely if I were immune, and not just having extremely delayed onset for some reason, that meant other people had to be immune, too. How many? I couldn’t begin to guess. I didn’t know the mortality rate of the disease. Even if 99.9% of the population was dead, that would leave around a thousand people still alive in the greater Albuquerque area, if I was doing my mental math correctly.

I turned on the overhead lights in the kitchen, then went through the house, turning on all the lamps. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do — maybe advertising my presence would do more harm than good. But I couldn’t sit there in the dark, not after everything I’d been through that day. Besides, when I peeked out through the curtains, I saw mine wasn’t the only house on the street that was all lit up. Most likely the others just had their lights on because no one was around to turn them off, but it did make mine seem less conspicuous.

“Are you there?” I asked of the darkness. Even a voice that was only a product of my imagination was better than this deep, deep silence, the kind of quiet you should never hear if you lived in a big city.

No reply, of course. My gaze shifted to the remote control, still lying where I’d last dropped it on the coffee table. I didn’t quite dare to turn on the television, not after what I’d seen the last time around. I could only imagine how bad it must be by now.

But there was still the stereo, and all the CDs my parents wouldn’t get rid of, despite Devin and me telling them all that plastic just took up space and that they should just rip all their music off those CDs and then play it through Apple TV or something. And now I had to be grateful for their stubbornness, because that meant I could get up and choose something to blot out the silence. My father liked country, but old country, like Hank Williams and Willie Nelson and Patsy Cline, and my mother preferred classical. That sounded better to me right then, so I found her favorite, Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, and put that on.

It actually was better, with the sound of an orchestra and Vladimir Ashkenazy on the piano overriding that awful stillness. Or at least it was better until I realized that no one would ever play that piece live again, that there would be no more symphony orchestras or Arcade Fire concerts or anything, ever again.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, pushing myself up from the couch and running into the kitchen, where I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in my face. As if that could begin to help. It was all too big to comprehend, so awful and enormous that I could literally feel the horror of it beginning to sink in, like some  noxious chemical seeping into my skin.

And then it was as though strong, invisible arms wrapped around me, bringing with them a soothing warmth. Unseen lips brushed against my hair, and I heard the voice again.

Be strong, my love. Be strong for just a while longer.

Just as suddenly, the presence was gone. I held on to the tile of the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath my fingertips. In that moment, I truly wondered if I’d lost my mind.

What other explanation could there be?
 
About the Author
A native of Southern California, Christine Pope has been writing stories ever since she commandeered her family’s Smith-Corona typewriter back in the sixth grade. Her short fiction has appeared in Astonishing Adventures, Luna Station Quarterly, and the journal of dark fiction, Dark Valentine. Two of her short stories have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
Christine Pope writes as the mood takes her, and her work includes paranormal romance, fantasy romance, and science fiction/space opera romance. She blames this on being easily distracted by bright, shiny objects, which could also account for the size of her shoe collection. After spending many years in the magazine publishing industry, she now works as a freelance editor and graphic designer in addition to writing fiction. She fell in love with Sedona, Arizona, while researching the Sedona Files series and now makes her home there, surrounded by the red rocks. No alien sightings, though...not yet, anyway!

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Three ebook copies of Chosen




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February 10, 2015

Amazon Burning by Victoria Griffith Blog Tour Guest Post

Amazon Burning
by Victoria Griffith
Published on October 1st 2014
Astor + Blue Editions
 
When 22-year-old aspiring journalist, Emma Cohen, is forced to flee the comforts of her NYU student life, she maneuvers an internship from her father at his newspaper in Rio de Janeiro. There, Emma is immediately swept into a major news story--and a life-threatening situation--when a famous jungle environmentalist, Milton Silva, is mysteriously murdered.
 
Emma must now enter the Amazon rainforest with her father to investigate; both awed by the enormity and beauty of the Amazon, and appalled by its reckless destruction. Not only will Emma have to brave the primal world of the Amazon, she must fight to survive the kidnappers, villains, corrupt activists, and indigenous tribes that lay in wait along the ever-twisting trail of the murder case. Stretched to the brink, it s up to Emma, her father and the dreamy news photographer, Jimmy, to unravel the mystery and live to tell the tale.
 
Amazon Burning by Victoria Griffith is a spectacular debut Young Adult novel. Griffith's powerful rendering of the Amazon rainforest forms the perfect, wildly exotic backdrop for this extraordinary tale of a young urban woman coming of age in the midst of intense conflict."

Guest post
Up Close and Personal with the Yanomami
 
        The tin can airplane hit the dirt runway with a thud, skidding to a stop just before a thicket of over-sized trees. Our pilot, unreassuringly nicknamed Amoeba, stubbed his cigarette out on the dashboard’s NO SMOKING sign. As the hatch of the cargo plane opened, the humidity of the rain forest flooded in. We had flown for just over an hour from the Amazon outpost known as Boa Vista and had landed in a different world. Chico, the burly Brazilian photographer who had joined me for this news magazine assignment, jumped down from the plane. I hopped down beside him and was surprised to see a couple dozen Yanomami running toward us, screaming like teenagers who had just spotted a favorite celebrity. 
 
        It soon became apparent that I was the main attraction. The native women clustered around me, one of them pulling at the front of my t-shirt. She peered down and invited her friends to take a peek.
 
        “They want to see what you look like underneath,” laughed Chico. “They’ve never seen a white woman before.”  I pushed my t-shirt back to my neck in protest. The women giggled and transferred their attention to my hair, holding strands of it and exchanging comments as if examining a specimen in a laboratory. A few of the women sported Western clothes, mostly t-shirts and baseball caps bearing American team logos and out-of-place slogans like I Love New York. There appeared to be a strict gender divide, I noticed, with the men choosing to interact with Chico instead. While these Yanomami may have never seen someone who looked exactly like me, their boldness was a sign that they were familiar with Westerners.
 
        Pushing through the small crowd, Chico and I made our way to the front of a wooden shack  to the side of the runway, where a gruff miner offered us a glass of water. In order to gain access to the Yanomami and see for ourselves the damage illegal miners were wreaking on their territory, we had made a deal with the devil, paying hundreds of dollars for Amoeba to take us to this gold mining station in the middle of the jungle. The gold miners controlled most of the runways in the area, if you could call these dirt strips runways. Amoeba had assured us that the miners would be on their best behavior. They didn’t want bad publicity, which tended to attract unwanted attention to their activities. But there were no guarantees, and I eyed the unsmiling group warily.
 
        The Yanomami had followed us, and I pulled t-shirts and crackers from my backpack to hand out as gifts. They pounced on the food, a clear indication of just how hungry they were. Yanomami are known to dislike salt, and these crackers had plenty. As they stuffed the crackers in their mouths, one of the miners yelled at the group to disperse. They sheepishly crept away.
 
        “They are always coming around here, begging for food,” said the miner. It was true. But what the miner did not acknowledge was that the nearby gold mine was likely to blame for their hunger in the first place. It polluted the waters with mercury run-off, killing off wildlife the natives would otherwise be able to hunt. In an ironic twist, the Yanomami were forced to turn for help to the very people who caused their food shortage in the first place.
 
        Rehydrated, we were ready to visit the site where the mining was actually taking place, a little more than an hour’s walking through the forest. A squat man with a mustache offered to show us the way, and together we dove into the sea of humidity that is the Amazon jungle. Up by the Venezuelan border, the forest becomes hilly, and I slipped over leaves the size of dinner plates as we made our way up and down the narrow path. I had just taken a fall when before us in the path appeared a small Yanomami man, dressed in a traditional loincloth. I scrambled to my feet. The man, sporting elaborate black and red designs on his chest, exchanged a few words with the miner, who had apparently picked up a little of the native language.  After a few minutes, the Yanomami man let out a whistle, and out from the greenery emerged dozens of men, women and children. They had clearly been hiding away until they got the “coast is clear” signal. This group was very different from the first I had encountered. Their eyes averted, they approached us cautiously. 
 
        Once again, they organized themselves by gender. A group of women and girls gathered around but remained at arm’s length. Sticks protruded from their lower lips; their hair was cut in the tribe’s characteristic bowl fashion. It was clear that they had had little to no experience with Westerners. But they were curious and tried their best to communicate, liberally augmenting their speech with sign language. I held out my arms and made a buzzing noise to tell them I had come on a plane. They pointed to parts of their bodies, making sounds, and I realized that they were trying to engage me in a language lesson – Yanomami 101.
 
        I tried to imitate their sounds. My accent must have sounded very funny to their ears, however, and they were soon chortling with laughter. Chico’s camera snapped. The goldminer said we’d need to move on if we wanted to make it to the mine and back to Boa Vista by sundown. He was right. Just before I turned to leave, one of the Yanomami women pointed to me, then to the forest. She rested her head on her hands, closing her eyes in a universally understood mime of sleep. I realized that she had just asked me to join her on a sleepover in her village. I was touched, but I shook my head. Chico and I had been warned of the dangers of spending the night in this area. While they might restrain themselves during the day, the heavy-drinking miners would likely be less inhibited later on. And guns and knives were in plentiful supply in these parts.
 
        “Let’s go,” Chico urged. I nodded and turned to follow him down the path. But I had to catch just one more glimpse of the woman who had asked me to stay. She offered me a smile. I smiled back. And to this day I wonder what might have happened if I had accepted her invitation. 
 
AUTHOR BIO
Victoria Griffith is the author of the award winning non-fiction picture book The Fabulous Flying Machines of Alberto Santos-Dumont (Abrams, 2011). Before becoming a full-time author, Victoria spent twenty years as an international journalist, fifteen of those years as foreign correspondent for the UK’s Financial Times. During that time, she had fun writing on a wide range of topics, including Brazil’s Yanomami Indians, architecture, space exploration, the human genome, and the growth of the Internet. Her most terrifying assignment was preparing lunch for Julia Child, who praised the Brazilian fish stew but refused to touch the blackberry dessert. Victoria lives in Boston with her husband and three daughters.

Find the title on:
·       Amazon - B&N - Astor + Blue (publisher)
 
Have you read the book? What were your thoughts about it? :)
 
 
 
 

January 21, 2015

All Played Out by Cora Carmack Cover Reveal

Holy smokes are we excited to bring you the cover for Cora Carmack's ALL PLAYED OUT! ALL PLAYED OUT is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and is the 3rd book in the Rusk University Series, published by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins. It is due to be released on May 12, 2015!! If you haven't had a chance to read this sexy, fun series yet, be sure to grab ALL LINED UP and ALL BROKE DOWN!   Image Map  

Pre-Order Your Copy Today!

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About ALL PLAYED OUT
First person in her family to go to college? CHECK.
Straight A’s? CHECK.
On track to graduate early? CHECK.
Social life? …..yeah, about that….

With just a few weeks until she graduates, Antonella DeLuca’s beginning to worry that maybe she hasn’t had the full college experience. (Okay... Scratch that. She knows she hasn't had the full college experience). 

So Nell does what a smart, dedicated girl like herself does best. She makes a "to do" list of normal college activities.

Item #1? Hook up with a jock.

Rusk University wide receiver Mateo Torres practically wrote the playbook for normal college living. When he’s not on the field, he excels at partying, girls, and more partying. As long as he keeps things light and easy, it's impossible to get hurt... again. But something about the quiet, shy, sexy-as-hell Nell gets under his skin, and when he learns about her list, he makes it his mission to help her complete it.

Torres is the definition of confident (And sexy. And wild), and he opens up a side of Nell that she's never known. But as they begin to check off each crazy, exciting, normal item, Nell finds that her frivolous list leads to something more serious than she bargained for. And while Torres is used to taking risks on the field, he has to decide if he's willing to take the chance when it's more than just a game. 

Together they will have to decide if what they have is just part of the experiment or a chance at something real. 

And don’t miss the first two books in the Rusk University Series…

RU books 1and 2 Banner  

ALL LINED UP, Book 1

ALL BROKE DOWN, Book 2

Headshot    
  About Cora Carmack: Cora Carmack is a twenty-something writer who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She's done a multitude of things in her life-- boring jobs (like working retail), Fun jobs (like working in a theatre), stressful jobs (like teaching), and dream jobs (like writing). She enjoys placing her characters in the most awkward situations possible, and then trying to help them get a boyfriend out of it. Awkward people need love, too. Her first book, LOSING IT, was a New York Times and USA Today bestseller.      

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November 02, 2014

Books, Blogs, & Reality by Ryan Ringbloom PROMO Blitz



Books, Blogs, Reality by Ryan Ringbloom
New Adult Contemporary
Date Published: October 2014

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Life can suck…

When reality becomes overwhelming, seeking comfort in fictional fantasies keeps hope alive.  And while this escape may be a little delusional, it’s also therapeutic.

Sharing secrets is daunting, but virtual friends don’t often judge and they are always ready to share a glass of wine…or three…while typing out life’s latest endeavors.

Brooke believes obstacles only add to romance, not detract. Rachael longs for a more intense relationship, or so she thinks. Lizzie misses the excitement in her life, but sometimes new situations find you when you’re not even looking. And Jess believes a tiger can change his stripes. It can’t.

Bound by a shared passion for blogging about happily ever afters, these four young women use keyboard therapy to work through their expectations, anxieties, and inadequacies, all with the hopes of achieving the perfection found in romance novels.

Completely blinded by what they think life should be, they navigate their unique paths in search of what they envision is right. But when reality taunts them with persistent curve balls, will they be strong enough to choose wisely? Or will their happy endings escape them?


*Mature content 18+


EXCERPT

It’s not uncommon for people to have two sets of friends. The “real” friends; these are the ones who live nearby, the ones you see or talk with occasionally (less and less as time goes on). Then there are the “virtual” friends; these are the ones you talk to (well, type to) every day. The latter group comes from all over. You’ve never actually met any of them and yet you trust them with some of the deepest, most intimate thoughts and details of your life. You share way too much information and in return, they over-share way too much back.
On Brooke Bloomfield’s twenty-third birthday, she went to lunch with her real life best friend, Lauren. The two girls had a very nice time. They gossiped in between chews, catching up, because even though they lived only ten minutes away from each other, they still hadn’t seen each other in quite some time. When the bill came, Lauren grabbed it, insisting she treat Brooke on her special day. They hugged goodbye at their cars and promised to meet for lunch or a drink soon. 
Later that same night, Brooke let loose and celebrated her birthday in a much more exciting way, at a computer-generated party with her three online BF’s, Rachael-XXOO, Lizzie1214, and JessRomance93. In a relatively short time, all three of these girls had come to know more about Brooke than anyone else. 
Similar tastes in books kept connecting them through book tours and blitzes. Comments on posts and reviews turned into discussions over emails. Tweets bounced back and forth between the four of them endlessly, until one day they discovered a social website designed for readers, where they could all chat privately amongst themselves. Within no time, their virtual discussions went from benign topics such as books they all loved, hated and/or felt somewhere in between, to a hell of a lot more serious things.
It’s funny the things a person will share with people they don’t actually have to face. Like a diary into which they feed their emotions and it types back.

Brooke Bloomfield
ReaderGirlBrooke
NY  ~   Brookesbeenreading.blogspace.com
Blogger, dedicated romance reader, and reviewer. I spend a lot of time with my many fictional boyfriends. Addicted to cherry ice pops and cupcakes with pink frosting.
~
ReaderGirlBrooke: Hey guys!
Lizzie1214: Wine is open. Time to celebrate!! The big two-three!
JessRomance93: Hey, birthday girl! I just opened a beer. Does everyone have a drink now?
Rachael-XXOO: Got mine. Happy Birthday Brookey!!!  Did you get the pic of Preston’s package all wrapped up in a bow? 
ReaderGirlBrooke: Thanks guys. I just poured a glass of red. Yes, Rachael – great pic! *blushes
Rachael-XXOO: You’re not blushing. You love it. I’m sure you saved it with all the other dirty pics I send you.
Rachael-XXOO: By the way, did you guys finish Fix My Heart yet? I’m only 45% in.
ReaderGirlBrooke: Yes!! Loved! Five stars. A guy exactly like Grant is what I wished for when I blew out my birthday candles today at lunch.
Lizzie1214: I gave it five stars, too.
JessRomance93: It was good. Meh. Three stars.
ReaderGirlBrooke: Jess, are you serious? Only three stars? How did you not fall in love with Grant? He was perfect!
JessRomance93: Yeah, Grant was perfect. But a little too perfect, don’t ya think? Guys like that don’t exist.
ReaderGirlBrooke: Are you just saying that because of you-know-who?
JessRomance93: This has nothing to do with that asshole. I just thought the way Grant rescued Cassandra was a little over the top.
Rachael-XXOO: Um, hello. What part of “I haven’t finished yet” did you all not understand? Remember, we don’t discuss a book until everyone is done reading.
ReaderGirlBrooke: Sorry! We’ll stop. Just make sure to stay away from my blog until you’re done reading. My review is getting posted tonight.
Rachael-XXOO: I’m probably reading slower than usual because my own love life has been picking up lately.
JessRomance93: Nice, Rach! Do we get some dirty details later?
ReaderGirlBrooke: Wah! The only love life I have lately requires batteries.
Rachael-XXOO: Yes! I’ll give details later. And speaking of dirty details, did you get my special little birthday care package, Brooke?
ReaderGirlBrooke: Yes, but I haven’t opened it yet. I figured I’d wait till we were chatting.
Lizzie1214: Open it! Tell us what fun, twisted things Rachael sent you.
Rachael-XXOO: Yeah, go ahead and open it up, birthday girl!
ReaderGirlBrooke: HAAA! I didn’t know they made so many things in the shape of a penis. Lollipops, straws, a lipstick, pasta, and a toothbrush! OMG! Where did u find a penis toothbrush?
Rachael-XXOO: I ordered everything online. Do you like the theme?? 
ReaderGirlBrooke: I love it! Thank you!! I’m taking a pic of everything right now to send you guys.
Lizzie1214: Will you actually eat the pasta and the lollipops? I wonder what they taste like. 
JessRomance93: Ew, yuck. What do you think it tastes like? 
Rachael-XXOO: Go ahead, Brooke, try a lollipop and tell us if tastes like a pecker.
ReaderGirlBrooke: Yum. It does. ;)

About the Author

Ryan Ringbloom

Twitter: @ryanringbloom

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October 19, 2014

There is no future in England's dreaming

Pic found here.
This is a story of a little girl who thought the future was going to be bright. 

And was met by darkness.

I was raised in a culture (country) where the common belief was that if you are good and you study hard, you will get a job and live a fairly comfortable life. We are not talking luxury here. Comfortable life. With a job that you've earned with your hard studying. 

I was raised by my parents which are still today very much in love. So, I've grown up with this idea that real love does exist. And most of my family friends are happily married after 25 years. It takes effort and patience and compromising.. but it exist. I saw and still see the proof of it. Me and my sister are the fruit of it. 

Of course as a little girl that I was, I thought that if I find something that I will love and enjoy immensely and I study hard for it, I will later get a job that I really enjoy doing. And no matter what kind of boyfriends I encounter in my teens, I will find someone that will be the one, lets say. That we are going to be like my parents.

I woke up in a good mood today. It was the readathon day! I couldn't participate in the last two because I was working long hours in the weekend and really there was no point in reading 30 pages and that's it. I wanted the whole experience and the joy that this event brings me every time. I was so excited for it this autumn. 

And then I got this assignment that is due next week. And I was sad, because I knew that I won't be able to do the readathon, because I have to study. Which I am. I decided to participate nonetheless, just instead of romance novels, to read scientific articles. 

I had to go to work as well. My colleague just became supervisor. Yesterday at work was bad.. but today, it was awful. I hate when people get a better position and then they get on this ego-trip thinking they know all the answers. Wtf? They start to behave differently and honestly, I don't feel like part of a team anymore. I feel like I have a bossy 19 years old girl telling me what to do. When, um, hello, I know. I was working with you for a month. If I still wouldn't know how to do my job by now, please fire me, cause apparently I am a moron.

I was pissed off. The whole evening. Apparently the manager noticed. She had a chat with me. Yeeey, love me little chats. Fuck. No. 

Anyway, whatever, but this situation reminded me of my job at the coffee shop and I got cold all over. I took it then, but hell no, I am not taking it now again. As I said, I really don't like too young girls on ego-trips. Just no. 

I got home and started reading more articles. And here is where things got tricky. I love psychology. But for once I wish things were just simply explained. Not complicated and with more questions than before I started. Gods, these articles. It's chaos. And nothing is definite. And after 10 articles.. I broke down.

I have no idea what I am going to write in my assignment. It's confusing and difficult and insane. And I hate it. Where did the "read the literature and write up what you've learnt" go? Because having 20 articles all defeating the theory of the previous one or the other way around isn't really helping, is it? Confusing. And tiring. 

And I think this was the moment where I finally realised what the problem is. The big picture. 

Slovenia, you failed me.

I always thought I would study in another city in the country and then decide if to move back to my hometown or stay in the city where I studied. Meet someone good, who does what is right and not what is easy, and be happy. My mother was 23 when she got married and had my sister.

And the economic crisis began. And the social crisis. And the crisis of my life.

We had this professor in my last year back home. She told us that we have to go abroad to build a future for ourselves. I thought she was exaggerating, but after some thoughts I figures she might be right. 

I applied to Edinburgh Uni - top 17 Universities in the world - and moved to Edinburgh. I thought, if I can just make it through this, I will have something really good, and then I can go back home and build that comfortable future for myself. 

It would be really laughable if I wasn't so incredibly sad right now. 

Don't you see? There is no future. 

Or at least not the one that I've imagined as that little girl full of aspirations and hopes for a better future. And I am not talking about "generation Y" here, I am talking about comfortable future. And that future is gone. 

I am working in hospitality. And believe me, after 9 years of seasonal working, I am freaking tired of it. I am tired that I get bossed around by people who don't even have a degree. While I have one. I am angry that, at 25, I am at the pick of my brain developing, and I am wasting my time doing a job I hate. I want to do something important that could improve people's lives, or use my brain in a more productive way. Anything that would make feel challenged. That would fulfil me in any way. 

And the interpersonal relations crisis. Oh my god, I never knew growing up would suck so badly. Do people have no values left at all? All around me, everyone is just using people for that 2 minutes high. And I am like, really?!

I was born in the wrong century. 

And honestly.. I really don't see the point anymore. 

My dear Slovenia is fucked. Our government is so corrupted that I wonder how they are even alive, doing the things they are doing. The economy is going down. The interpersonal relations are going down too. 

And all I can think is.. I've wasted 2 years of my young age doing hospitality work so I could pay my University fees, and study and have something.. for all that something to crumble into nothing. Because, really, where would be the point of going back? To no job? When I invested nearly 3 years of my life and thousands of pounds earned with sweat and blood into it. All for that comfortable future. 


And all I can think is that alternative future that I missed because I chased the attainable. All to figure out that it was unattainable. 

And they say "hard work pays off". Hardly.

I feel so cheated. 

So, if this is this evolved and advanced society you were telling me to look forward when I was a little girl, I am telling you now, screw you. You and your awesomely evolved society.

Good night,



October 18, 2014

October 2014 24-hour Read-A-Thon is here! :)

Hiii there!!

It's nice to see you all again. I've missed the last two read-a-thons unfortunately, due to my job. Working weekends sucks. So this year I was so so happy that I could participate again! I always have a great time with you guys! I was really excited for this, and then.. I got this big assignment for Uni which is due next week. And I was like "bummer". And then I got the idea!! I have to read a lot of articles regarding the clinical neuropsychology of frontotemporal dementia, and I figured I should do just that! As much as I wish I could read romance novels today.. I will read scientific articles. And the read-a-thon is the best way to keep me motivated and keep reading!

1) What fine part of the world are you reading from today?
Edinburgh, Scotland! And today is sunny, so that's a bonus.


2) Which book in your stack are you most looking forward to?
Uh. Scientific articles are.. complicated and boring sometimes. But I am hoping to learn everything there is and write an awesome report by tomorrow! Ok.. the first draft would work just fine. 


3) Which snack are you most looking forward to?
Coffee. Lots of coffee.

4) Tell us a little something about yourself!
My name is Nea. I come from Slovenia, but I've moved to Scotland in 2012. I am doing a Master in Psychology of Individual Differences. I am in my second year and so far so good. I work part time as well. I actually have to go to work for few hours later on, but no worries, I will be back as soon as I can :)


5) If you participated in the last read-a-thon, what’s one thing you’ll do different today?
The readathon will be a bit different for me this time around. My studies, unfortunately in this case, have priority. So, scientific articles will be a different kind of challenge. And I am planning to read them all. 

You can find me on twitter@neabarabea
You can find me on Goodreads

Happy readathon people out there. I hope you are gonna have an incredible and unforgettable time. And good luck :) 




October 04, 2014

Being honest is the answer. Or it should be.

Beginnings, beginnings. 

You know the funny thing is that I thought that being honest from the start would make things ok. Apparently I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn't. If the other person was honest as well.. things might have been different. But they weren't. They aren't. And that sucks.

My sister always used to say that the beginnings are the best part of the relationship. And it's true. Everything is new and exciting and exhilarating and everything seems perfect. Sad thing is, I don't think I quite believe it anymore. Which makes me sad.

So, I met this guy. And when the night was over I told him that if he was searching for a one night stand the answer is no, I am not searching for that and if that was his intention, well the answer is no. And he said "Yeah I am not searching for that either". I was positively surprised to be honest. And we were texting each other and everything. It was quite nice. It lasted a week. And the day after, he was gone. As in like "text me later, ok?" And he disappeared. 

Which begs the question.. What the hell is going on?!

I can't help but wander, has this become a new mechanism of functioning in interpersonal relations in today's society? Let her believe that I am down to it and then just disappear? Because let me tell you right now, this isn't cool. Or ok. 

Because I beg to differ. Being honest from the beginning about what you want should be the point. As in like "yes, I totally want to commit to someone and see where it goes" or "No, I don't feel I am ready/not the right time/insert whatever you feel". That would be the right thing to do. And if you are confused about it, just say it. Do not lead someone to then just disappear. 

And this is the thing that pissed me off the most. If you tell me something then stay true to it. Or don't say it in the first place. Because honestly, you took away that choice from me. I will adapt to the situation. I will make choices based on the things that you tell me. And saying something that you don't really mean and then just ran off without saying a word totally takes that choice from me. Because I didn't really know, did I? How could have I?

So I am left with doubts, questions, and nonetheless, anger. I am angry. Because I thought we were heading into something. Until that someone decided we are not. Did I actually have a say in it? No. Is that ok? Fuck no.

My friend says it takes two people to do something. And I am like "Yeah, but I want to know what I am getting into". This isn't a bet where I am hoping to win. It's freaking reality and words which should count for something. I shouldn't be betting on someone not to coax me into something that I might want. I want someone to tell me how things actually are. I should be aware to a certain extend where this thing is going. Shouldn't I?

And you will say, it's complicated. Yes, it always is. But for fuck's sake, not like this. People should just be honest. It would solve so much. So so much. Because, really, with all the toys in the world, people shouldn't play with other people's emotions. 

I am not sure I put this down the way I wanted it, or if it's understood the way I want it to be. But this is how I feel and that's just it.

Until next time,



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