Monday, September 11, 2017

Hey, It's A Blog Tour for "Moribund" by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

Book 1, in The Circuit Fae Series
Genre: Young Adult, LGBTQ+, Urban Fantasy. 300 pages.
Pre-Order Price: $3.82 ebook (at time of post)
Book Link: Click Here
Dark Fae. Romance. Evil Plots. High school. Our heroines could be in for the greatest adventure ever.
If only they could decide whether to kill or kiss each other. 
High school sophomore Syl Skye is an ordinary girl. At least, she’s trying to be. School photographer and all-around geek, she introverts hard and keeps her crush on sexy-hot glam-Goth alt-rock star Euphoria on the down-low. But when a freak accident Awakens her slumbering power, Syl is forced to accept a destiny she never wanted—as the last sleeper-princess of the fair Fae.
Suddenly hunted by the dark Fae, Syl’s pretty sure things can’t get any worse. Until she discovers her secret crush, Euphoria, is really a dark Circuit Fae able to harness the killing magic in technology. Even worse, she’s been sent to destroy Syl. 
With mean girls and magic and dark Fae trying to kill her, it’ll take more than just “clap if you believe in fairies” to save Syl’s bacon—not to mention, her heart. 


Chapter 1:(Syl)

Can you see them—the fair ones, the dark ones? 

Lurking just beyond the edge of light 

They are there, waiting for you 

Waiting, waiting for you to Awaken

- Glamma’s Grimm

      If dreams are supposed to be prophetic, then I must be destined to be a track star. I’m always running in this dream, running through the wet city streets after the crash. My leg is bleeding, a piece of iron shrapnel sticking out, glinting in the streetlights. The shadows warp. There are…things chasing me. Dark and terrible things. 

      And among them, her

      I’ve never seen her face, only a flash of sapphire-blue eyes ringed in gold. She’s not human—because, of course she’s not. Goodness knows, I can’t have normal dreams—but I’m drawn to her, the deepest part of what makes me me tugged and stretched and pulled inside out until I’m aching. 

      Until my heart is an arrow pointing straight at her.

      Also, she’s chasing me, but also she’s helping me escape.       Also also? I think I’m totally crushing on her. And her on me. 
      How can I tell? Because dreams are officially dumb. Apparently, so am I, because for the first time ever in my dream, I stop running. I turn, waiting for her to come out of the night, my huntress, my savior. Her shadow moves in the darkness, closer, closer… 
       I’m just about to glimpse her— 
       Clink! Clank! I jolt awake to the clatter of dishes ten minutes before my alarm. Ugh. I was so close. Not to mention, today is not the day I want to wake up early. 
       I roll over, tucking the covers up over my head. It doesn’t help. Clank! Clatter! 
       Mondays are Mom’s day off—Mondays and Saturdays. Saturdays. The rest of the week, she’s up before the street sweepers and gone hours before I even think of rolling out of bed. She’s a business of one, cleaning the schools before anyone is even in them. I guess it’s good she’s a morning person. 
        Right now, I wish I were. Because I’m so not. 
        I lie there in my makeshift blanket fort, straining to get back to my dream, to where I was just about to see…her. 
        But nope. 
        In trying to be quiet, Mom’s louder than ever. Every clink and chink is followed by an “oops” or sigh or the frenzied sounds of someone trying to quiet their actions while somehow managing to make even more noise. I love my mom, but of all days— 
         Clank! Claaaaaaaaaank! 
         Seriously? I shove my beat-up e-reader off the bed and stuff my pillow over my head. I’m regretting my poor life choices in staying up till one a.m. to finish “just one more chapter.” Maybe that’s why I’m having crazy dreams. Too much Irish folklore. I’ve been obsessed ever since Ms Duffy assigned that “personal heritage” project freshman year. Whatever. That e-reader’s been my best friend this entire summer. 
         Ever since Fiann started ditching me. Right after the accident. 
         I was dead for like two minutes, or so the doctors say. 
         Fiann was supposed to be my best friend, but hers was the only face that seemed unhappy when I awoke, when I recovered, when I came back to school for the last few weeks before summer break… 
         We’re not friends anymore. Not really. 
          Our “break up” has been brewing for a while now. Ever since midway through my freshman year. My dad’s checks stopped coming, which meant less money, which meant fewer extracurriculars. Which meant…I couldn’t keep up with Fiann and the rest of my friends. 
          She started treating me different right away—ignoring me, excluding me, ditching me… 
          The night of the crash was the final nail in the coffin of our friendship. 
          All summer, I’ve been a regular hermit. A pariah. 
          “Syl!” Mom’s voice echoes down the hall of our shotgun apartment. 
           Gah! “Just ten more minutes.” I am so not a morning person. Even the idea of opening my eyes is painful. 
           My alarm goes off. It’s clearly a conspiracy. I give up on sleep, on my dream, on seeing her. “Fine! I’m up.” 
           “You don’t want to be late,” Mom calls from the kitchen like some cheerfully disembodied Jiminy Cricket. “Not on your first day as a sophomore.” 
           Don’t I? Dreams are scary and all, but it’s reality I’ve been dreading. The idea of having to face Fiann and all the girls who I’d thought were my friends sucks the life out of me. Big-time. That, along with having to explain how I—we, Fiann and me—survived a train wreck. Now she’s a local hero, and I’m just the weird “girl who lived.” 
            It sounds all Harry Potter cool, but it’s not. Not by a long shot. 
            Aside from my weird dreams, I don’t even remember anything about that night. It’s all a blare of blinding white—heat and burning flame. 
            Apparently, Fiann dragged me from the train, a huge spike of iron shrapnel sticking out of my leg. She saved my life, and now she won’t even talk to me? It doesn't make any sense. I heave a sigh. When you're going through hell, just keep going. That's what my Glamma Always says.
            Said, I remind myself.
Author Bio:
Author Links: Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter.
Raised by witches and dragons in the northern wilds, GIE writes angsty urban fantasy YA romance--where girls who are mortal enemies kick butt, take names, and fall in love against all odds. 
She enjoys long hikes in the woods (where better to find the fair folk?), believing in fairies (in fact, she's clapping right now), dancing with dark elves (always wear your best shoes), being a self-rescuing princess (hello, black belt!), and writing diverse books about teenage girls finding love, romance, and their own inner power.
She might be planning high tea at the Fae Court right now. 
GIE is multi-published, and in her role as an editor has helped hundreds of authors make their dream of being published a reality.