From the Publisher
"I have to say that there isn't much to Haunted that I didn't like...Preble has yet again crafted a fun and imaginative story that borders on the realistic. Yea, there are killer mermaids. Sure, there is a magical old witch. Uh-huh, there are loads of additional other-worldly type of events as well. But that's what works so well. It's perfect for the lover of paranormal fiction but also not so over the top that those who aren't as fond of those elements will want to shy away. If you haven't read Dreaming Anastasia pick it up, but make sure you have Haunted on hand too because you'll want to start it right after." - GalleySmith
"Even without having read the preceding book in this series, Dreaming Anastasia, I was able to not just follow along, but thoroughly enjoy Haunted. Ms. Preble has a masterful way of weaving a story that is not just romantic, but exciting and magical. You'll be loath to leave Anne and Ethan behind when the book closes. Haunted is a wonderful and imaginative story for both older teens and adults alike. Entertaining and magical to the very last page." - Long and Short Reviews
"...enjoyable, good for lazy afternoon reading." - Night Owl Reviews
""Haunted" is a fast and enjoyable read... Kudos to Joy for crafting an impressive second novel." - Cracking the Cover
"Haunted is a nice follow-up to Dreaming Anastasia - it feaures the same sweet romance, stunning cover, and creepy, Russian villains. Preble does a great job of mixing history with fantasy into Anne's crazy world. She also has a real gift for creating great bad guys... The Russian folklore elements make it unique, and Preble's storytelling keeps you turning the page." - One Page At A Time
"...all the fantasy, comedy and romance you could ever want but I think their genius is in the choice of villainesses... you will love it!" - Beauty Crazed
"Joy Preble has a knack for picking such intriguing creatures to act as her villains! ...I will definitely be eager to continue the story when the third book comes along!" - Sweets and Stories
"Haunted packed quite a punch. I thought I knew what was going on - and I was right - sort of. Lots of mystery to this tale. Lots of stories within stories. The part of me that craves intricate layered fantasy loved this aspect... I also really enjoyed Joy's writing. She's on my radar now and I'll defiantly be picking up her next work - whatever it may be." - Red House Books
"...action packed and gripping from the start. Upon conclusion it is obvious that there is more to come from this intense story. I look forward to seeing if there is more to come from this journey." - The Book Whisperer
"...an exciting sequel to Dreaming Anastasia... The Russian folklore was fascinating and I loved how masterfully Joy weaves it through the story. I also absolutely adored Anne's best friend, Tess, who encourages Anne and has her back. Finally, I enjoyed the book's fast-pace and the extraordinary ending that left me breathless and wanting more." - Eating YA Books
VOYA - Lauri J. Vaughan
Despite all her efforts, Anne Michaelson is not happy. Keeping secret the ghostly appearances of a mysterious and troubled woman is becoming more difficult as their frequency increases. Anne's mother's recovery from the death of her son is taking a bad turn. The return of edgy and powerful Ethan is forcing her to reconsider her relationship with lifeguard Ben. As much as she'd like to be a normal teenager, Anne is forced to confront her magical abilities and recognize her role in a hundreds-year-old legacy of betrayal and revenge. Picking up a year after the end of Dreaming Anastasia(Sourcebooks, 2009), this second in the eponymous trilogy has moments of breathtaking excitement. Unfortunately, a promising plotline is held hostage by the details. Preble has clearly struggled to provide her readers with the just right amount of confusion enough to stay engaged in the story but not to warrant frustration and has fallen short. Several plot incidents seem to crop up as if they were created out of sudden whimsy rather than a strategic revelation of detail. Preble can craft believable voicesparticularly so with Anne's strong-headed, best friend Tess. She can also construct an exciting crisis, but without the big picture equally well designed, the effect becomes a stringy and confusing reader experience. Still, fans of the first in the series will want to pick up where they left off with Anne, and the strength of the continuation will likely carry them through the choppy bits. Let's hope Preble is back on her game with the third and final title. Reviewer: Lauri J. Vaughan
VOYA - Isabel Crevasse
Haunted is an enjoyable but unspectacular read. Teens will recognize the popular mix of fantasy and daily teen struggles in this romantic novel based in Russian folklore. The underlying theme of the importance of choices is somewhat underdeveloped but prominent enough to convey the intended message. As a sequel, Haunted fulfills the promise of Dreaming Anastasia pleasantly, if a little predictably. Teens will enjoy Preble's novel on a cold, rainy day. 3Q, 2P. Reviewer: Isabel Crevasse, Teen Reviewer
School Library Journal
Gr 9 Up—After rescuing the Grand Duchess Anastasia from Baba Yaga in Dreaming Anastasia (Sourcebooks, 2009), Anne Michaelson is eager to put aside thoughts of both magical destinies and of Ethan, the former magician who regained his mortality when Anastasia was returned to her historical fate. But no amount of focusing on her normal life in modern-day Chicago or her new boyfriend can drive away Anne's conflicted feelings for Ethan, or her own increasing magical powers. Baba Yaga still haunts her dreams, while during the day, Anne is haunted by a strange, wild woman (eventually identified as a rusalka, a Russian water spirit), who begs the teen to help her. Ethan's return soon brings things to a head, and Anne must sort out the rusalka's role in her family history, figure out what Baba Yaga requires of her, and decide which boy she really wants to be with. Themes of destiny, loss, and sacrifice run heavily through this tangled tale, with Anne's brassy friend Tess providing a welcome lighter note. Not a stand-alone read, this is very much a middle chapter to the trilogy, with most of the action focused on elaborating past events or establishing the set-up for future ones. Consider purchasing where the first book has a following.—Christi Esterle, Parker Library, CO
In this sequel to Dreaming Anastasia (2009), 17-year-old Anne faces up to the fact that she has a magical destiny that she cannot escape. The plot relies heavily on the earlier book; this sequel does not stand on its own. It progresses in chapters divided between the viewpoints of Anne and Ethan, Anne's centuries-old, formerly immortal friend. Preble writes the voices of each as nearly identical, however, so readers must pay attention to the chapter headings in order to understand who's speaking. Also in the mix are Ben, Anne's current, very nice, boyfriend, and Tess, her somewhat humorous, chatty best friend and the most appealing character in the novel. The supernatural characters—Baba Yaga, the dreadful, powerful witch of Russian folklore, and Anne's grandmother Lily, who's become a crazed and vengeful Russian mermaid—provide the villainy and the motor for the narrative. In all, it's a somewhat confusing but well-paced roller-coaster ride of death-defying magical encounters. Suspenseful scenes fly by quickly as Anne tries to make sense of unexplained events from the previous book. Entertaining, if quite a jumble. (Supernatural thriller. 12 & up)
Read an Excerpt
Tuesday, 1:13 am
In my dream, I sit at Baba Yaga's table. One of her huge brown hands stirs something in the kettle hanging in the fireplace. The other creeps across the smooth wooden floor on its fingertips, a roughly crafted robin's-egg blue pottery mug hooked to its huge pinkie finger. This is gross and unsettling, and if I were awake, I'd probably say so. Detached hands offering people beverages is-generally speaking-rather icky. But I'm not awake. At least, I hope I'm not.
"Drink," Baba Yaga says to me. "If you want to control the power that sits in your veins, then choose to drink." The sleeves of her long, brown cotton dress flap emptily as her hands go about their business.
"No," I tell her. I shiver as I watch those empty sleeves. "I'm not yours. You have no hold on me, Baba Yaga. I'm not Anastasia. I'm Anne. Whatever you're offering, I don't want it."
"Oh, child," she says. Her mouth turns up in a hideous smile. Those iron teeth glint at me. The wrinkles in her dark face are etched so deeply that I wonder if they pain her somehow. It's as though they dip right inside her face. "You have no idea what's coming. No idea what you're giving up."
"I don't care," I tell her. "Whatever it is, I don't want it."
She's still laughing at me, her gravelly voice filling my head, when I wake up, my camisole soaked with sweat. I tell myself to breathe-just breathe-and lie there in the darkness under my ceiling fan until my heart stops pounding and the cool air takes the heat from my skin.
I sit up, fumble on my nightstand for my cell phone. The blue glow makes me blink as I flip it open and scroll to Ethan's number. My fingers hover there. Press? Don't press? Tell him? Don't tell him? It's a routine I've been going through night after night now that the dreams are back. I know I should call. Let me know if you need me, he always says. He checks on me once a week. Lately, he asks, Is there something going on? You need to tell me, Anne.
And maybe because he doesn't press me, doesn't call me out on what I'm sure he knows is a lie, I keep it to myself. I think about the few times that we kissed-that first time in the rain when Anastasia went back to die, and some others before he left. Tentative kisses that spoke of something more to come. The feel of him, the musky smell of him. Those crazy, ridiculous blue eyes. But then he left. And if he's coming back, he hasn't said. What kind of silly girl would I be to think those kisses meant the same thing to him? Better to move on. Better to keep things to myself.
So I don't tell him that things are getting weird again. Maybe they've never stopped being weird. If I tell him the truth, then I'll have to admit that the magic inside me hasn't let up one bit. And since this scares the hell out of me, it's a lot easier to lie.
But right now in the dark, with my heart still erratic, I imagine myself fessing up. Funny thing, Ethan. Those powers you said would go away now that Anastasia didn't need saving anymore? Well, they haven't. I'm juiced up to the max most days with this stuff lurking inside me. But Anastasia's dead for real now. So what use is this magic to me? And why aren't you here to help me figure things out?
Maybe that's why he left in the first place. Not to find himself or wander Europe. I mean, I get that. He was immortal for so long, and now he's not. He needs to know what that means. But maybe his journey took him that far, and now he's just done. Easier to bolt than to commit to the craziness again. Or to a girl he's known for just a few weeks. No matter how much they've been through together.
But I'm having these dreams again, and Baba Yaga hasn't let me go. I'm as much her prisoner as Anastasia ever was-I'm not stuck in that creepy hut, but I end up there night after night anyway. If it's not real, it feels real. And if I've learned one thing about all this magic business, it's that those two things are pretty much the same.
I don't know what she wants. Okay, that's a lie. I don't want to know. Whatever it is she thinks I can do or wants me for or hopes I'll stumble into-I don't want any part of it. And who else can I tell that to except Ethan? But then I remember that I've told him that before. Only it didn't really matter. When you're destiny girl, you don't get a lot of choice.
This is what I ponder while I sit here in the dark in the middle of the night. This and the fact that I probably bombed some of my final exams last week, and that summer's beginning, but I'm not exactly in a summery mood. Outside my window, some early-rising bird squeaks out a chirp. Just one lonely little eep, and then it's gone. Phone still in my hand, I walk to the window. The cool glass feels good as I press my forehead against it.
"Liar," I say to myself. "Go ahead. Blame everything on him."
Because here's the real truth: as much as I hate the chaos that Ethan Kozninsky brought with him when he smashed into my life last fall, I don't hate him. Not at all. And I won't say that I love him. But I won't say that I don't either. What I will say-just not to him, and definitely not to Tess because she'd get all judgy even though she's my best friend and certainly has had some major lack of judgment of her own-is that I can't get him out of my thoughts. Dreaming or waking, he's always there somewhere. I've told myself that's ridiculous. But telling it to myself doesn't make it true. Since he's been away, I've felt empty and alone and incomplete. And no matter how much I do to push away those feelings, they just keep coming back.
Serious neediness. Not something to make a girl feel proud. So I toss the phone on my nightstand, climb back into bed, draw my knees to my chest, and hike the covers up to my chin. It's not just the dreams anymore, I know. Or my more-than-slightly-conflicted feelings for one absurdly handsome, blue-eyed Russian. It's what I saw just now when I peered out into the darkness of our supposedly boring little Chicago suburb. It's the other thing I haven't mentioned to Ethan...
She was out there again, barely noticeable in the flicker of water from the Spauldings' sprinkler that comes on in the middle of the night. Just like last night, when she was leaning against the oak tree a few houses down during that thunderstorm. The same woman who'd stared at me silently a few weeks ago as she sat at the edge of the duck pond near our house, her tattered lilac dress soaked, her hair a mass of wild black waves. The woman who sometimes has a fish tail and sometimes has legs. The one who seems to be stalking me.
I close my eyes. I won't sleep, but at least I'll rest. If she's out there still, I won't go look. If this is all starting again, I don't want any part of it.
Only I'm pretty sure that once again, I don't have a choice.