Tornby Erica O'Rourke
Even best friends.
Swirling black descends like ravens, large enough to block the glow of the streetlights. A dull roar starts like a train on the 'L', a far-away rumbling that grows louder as it pulls closer, until it's directly overhead and you feel it in your chest, except this doesn't pass you by. Verity, white-faced and eyes/b>
Everyone has secrets.
Even best friends.
Swirling black descends like ravens, large enough to block the glow of the streetlights. A dull roar starts like a train on the 'L', a far-away rumbling that grows louder as it pulls closer, until it's directly overhead and you feel it in your chest, except this doesn't pass you by. Verity, white-faced and eyes blazing, shouts through the din, "Run, Mo!"
Mo Fitzgerald knows about secrets. But when she witnesses her best friend's murder, she discovers Verity was hiding things she never could have guessed. To find the answers she needs and the vengeance she craves, Mo--quiet, ordinary, unmagical Mo--will have to enter a world of raw magic and shifting alliances. And she'll have to choose between two very different, equally dangerous guys--protective, duty-bound Colin and brash, mysterious Luc.
One wants to save her, one wants to claim her. Which would you choose?
"Who doesn't love a character torn between two dangerous worlds and two risky guys? The only thing safe about this book is how good it is." --Lee Nichols, author of Deception, A Haunting Emma Novel
"Dark, exciting and totally addictive! Just. . .wow!" –Kristi Cook, author of Haven
"Dark, magical, and delicious!"
--New York Times Bestselling Author C. L. Wilson
A disrupted magical prophecy pits fate against choice in O'Rourke's debut.
Maura "Mo" Fitzgerald wakes up in a hospital room to face a handful of impossibilities—namely, that she has witnessed the murder of her best friend, Verity Grey, and that said murder was committed by evil, supernatural creatures. Rocked out of complacency, Mo discovers that Verity was not only living a double life as a powerful magic user called an Arc, but had been the prophesied key for preventing a magical disaster on par with a nuclear meltdown. Mo isn't fated—or qualified—to save the world, but she finds herself falling into Verity's role as well as the arms of a mysterious, handsome Arc whom she suspects of having been romantically involved with Verity. She struggles with grieving, her family's shady ties and a protective bodyguard, all the while trying to figure out whom she can trust in a destiny not meant for her. The romance is on the less-developed side, but the male lead makes up for it in dark charisma. While some of the plot twists are predictable, and the shadowy consortium of villains is ill-defined, the novel shines when Mo deals with the implications and ramifications of her role as a substitute for the chosen heroine.
The admirable ambition of this novel makes up for its uneven patches. (discussion questions) (Paranormal romance. 13 & up)
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By ERICA O'ROURKE
K TEEN BOOKSCopyright © 2011 Erica O'Rourke
All right reserved.
Chapter OneI woke up to the smell of Lysol and the end of the world. In my defense, I didn't know it was the end of the world at the time. I didn't know anything, and it was better that way. There's a reason people say ignorance is bliss.
The room looked like every crappy emergency room I'd ever seen on TV, with the notable difference that I was in it—light blue curtains for walls and rolling supply carts labeled with black marker and masking tape, a ceiling of water-stained acoustic tiles and flickering fluorescent lights. The clock on the wall read 12:38 AM, and the ER was just gearing up for the night, the clatter and bustle clearly audible through the curtains surrounding me on three sides.
I struggled to sit up in the hospital bed, which turned out to be a bad idea, and slipped back with a gasp. The pain was everywhere, waves of it crashing through my body like Lake Michigan during a storm, and the room turned inky around the edges. I tried to draw a breath without whimpering, and failed.
Moving was out, and breathing seemed dicey, but I needed to find Verity. If I was here, she was, too, and worse off than me. That, at least, I remembered.
Swirling black descends like ravens, large enough to block the glow of streetlights and neon shop signs. A dull roar starts like a train on the "L," a faraway rumbling that grows louder as it pulls closer, until it's directly overhead and you feel it in your chest, except this doesn't pass you by. Verity, white faced and eyes blazing, shoves me, shouting through the din, "Run, Mo! Run, damn it!" And then a scream, and when I wake, she is on the ground, the copper scent of blood and fear filling the air, my hands stained red to the elbows. "Hang on, Vee, don't go, don't you go, someone please, God, help us, please don't go ..."
"No visitors until the doctor's cleared her," said a woman in the hallway, jerking me back to the ER. Two pairs of legs halted outside my room, their feet and calves visible below the curtain's hem. Pink scrubs and white Nikes stood on the left, navy pants and scuffed, sturdy black shoes on the right. "Besides, she's still out."
Without thinking, I shut my eyes. The curtain rustled, then snapped, like it was yanked open and closed again. "Satisfied?" huffed Pink Scrubs. "She'll wake up soon. I'll notify you myself."
"Did you see the other one?" Navy Pants said, with a gravelly South Side accent. Their voices grew softer as they walked away.
I opened my eyes and strained to hear them. Pink Scrubs was silent.
He spoke again. "Seventeen years old. Seventeen. The guy is still out there. And you want me to sit around while he does it again? To some other little girl?"
Verity. She was here, and these two knew where. I ignored the pain in my shoulder and slowly, slowly pushed up to sitting, biting down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. A black plastic clamp was attached to my finger, wires trailing to a blinking monitor nearby. If I took the clamp off, they'd know I was awake, and Navy Pants would want to talk with me. I needed to talk to Verity first.
The memory of her made something catch in my throat. For a minute, all I could do was stare at my hand, swathed in layers of gauze. Farther up my arm, rusty streaks had dried, flaking off on the white blanket. The sight made me queasy, and I rubbed with a corner of the blanket until the marks were mostly gone. I eased one leg over the side of the bed, planning to drag the monitor on its wheeled cart along with me, when a nearby voice drawled, "Best you not be doin' that just now."
I whipped my head around. Black fuzz appeared again, and I blinked until it dissipated. In the corner of the room stood a guy dressed like a doctor, hands tucked in the pockets of his lab coat, slouching against a supply cart.
Silently, fluidly, he moved closer to the head of the bed, stopping a few inches away. Even though I was in so much pain my molars hurt, I could see he was hot—nothing wrong with my eyesight except for the fuzz. He looked way too young to be a doctor, except for his eyes, which looked ancient and ... angry, somehow. They were startlingly green, like you'd read in a fairy tale. But this guy wasn't a prince—he was probably a med student. And it didn't matter what he looked like. He could have horns and a pitchfork, for all I cared, so long as he knew where Verity was.
"I need to find my friend," I whispered. Farther down the hallway, I could see Navy Pants's feet pacing back and forth. "Can you help me?"
Something—pity, maybe—crossed his face. "Sit back," he said, his hand closing gently over my throbbing shoulder. "Close your eyes."
"I really need to find her." I settled back as his fingertips brushed against my forehead, feather light. He murmured something I couldn't catch and didn't care about.
"Her name's Verity Grey. Have you seen her?" I asked. His hands paused in their tracings, my skin pleasantly warm where he'd touched, the pain softer edged. I opened my eyes. His expression was stony, mouth tight and eyes hooded.
"Verity's dead," he said shortly.
"What? No. No. No." My voice rose, turning into a wail, and he clamped a hand over my mouth. I struggled against him, trying to explain why he was wrong. She wasn't dead. She was the most alive person I knew—laughing, clever, charming Verity, bright and bold and reckless enough for both of us. She couldn't be dead, because there couldn't be a world without her. I shook my head against the pressure of his fingers on my lips, my tears splashing down over his hand. If I said no enough times, Verity would still be alive. This wouldn't be real. I wouldn't be alone.
His eyes met mine, and I recoiled from the fury in them. "Yes. Listen to me. Verity's gone."
A sound—an awful, wounded-animal sound—filled the room. It was me, I realized, but he kept talking. "She was gone before she got here, and if you want to help her now, if you want to be her friend, you need to be keepin' your mouth shut. Nod if you understand me."
I bit his finger, hard, and he snatched his hand away. "Damn it, I am tryin' to help you!"
"Who are you?"
"A friend. And I ain't got a whole lot of time, so pay attention. Verity's dead, and the rest is flat out beyond you, Mouse."
The air rushed out of my lungs all at once, the room going hazy again. Only Verity called me Mouse.
Before I could ask him about it, he took my injured hand and swiftly unwrapped the gauze. A large gash across my palm was oozing blood, and I looked away. It should have hurt, but all I could feel were his words, each one like a blow.
"In a few minutes, this room is gonna be lousy with people asking you 'bout what happened in that alley." His fingers hovered over the injured skin, pressed against my wrist, and he murmured again, impossible to hear over the rushing sound in my head. "Don't tell them. Say it was a mugger, say it was a gang ... say you don't remember."
"That's the truth." Mostly. I frowned at him, swiping at my eyes with my free hand.
He looked up approvingly for a second. "Say it just like that. You might be able to get out of this after all." He rewrapped my hand and stepped back.
Get out of what? I tried to ask, but the question was crowded out by what he'd said—Verity was dead, and everything in me felt frozen, the pain I'd felt before a shadow compared to the shards of ice gathering in my chest.
He turned to leave, and I was finally able to speak, the words ragged. "Why? Why Verity? Who would—"
He cut me off. "Too many questions. Best for everyone not to ask." He paused and cocked his head toward the hallway. I could see Pink Scrubs's feet approaching, Navy Pants following close behind. "Time to go, Mouse. Remember to forget, hmn?"
Pink Scrubs—a harried, middle-aged nurse—dragged the curtain aside. Right behind her was Navy Pants, a rumpled, bearlike man with a receding hairline and stubble that was emphatically not a fashion statement. I turned to look at the doctor, but he was gone.
"Maura Fitzgerald?" Navy Pants asked as the nurse moved to my side, snapping on gloves and pulling out a small penlight. I nodded dumbly.
"Glad to see you're awake," Pink Scrubs said cheerfully, shining the light into my eyes. She gestured to my forehead. "That looks better already. How are you feeling?"
"Where's Verity?" I croaked, swiping at tears again.
They exchanged a look—the look adults give each other when they're trying to figure out the most effective stalling tactic. I knew that look. I'd seen it before, more than once. It always meant life was going to suck, very badly, for a very long time.
"I need to check your vitals," the nurse said after a moment. "The doctor will be in soon, and she'll answer your questions, okay? Your family's on the way."
She. Not he. I watched the nurse's hands, in their purple latex gloves, reach for the blood pressure cuff, and a wild hope sprang up in me. The green-eyed guy wasn't a doctor, obviously. He'd never put on gloves, had never looked at my chart ... he hadn't even worn a stethoscope, for God's sake. Not to mention he'd been way too young. He must have been some sort of nut job imposter, and he didn't have a clue about Verity. Which meant she was alive. I sank back and let the nurse wrap the black strap around my arm.
Navy Pants flashed a badge at me and brought out a small notebook. "Detective Kowalski, Miss Fitzgerald. I need to ask you some questions."
"Where's Verity?" The blood pressure cuff tightened on my arm, but I ignored it.
Kowalski looked at the nurse again. She checked her watch, made a notation on the chart resting on the counter, and said quietly, "We can't release patient information unless you're family."
At the sympathy in her tone, and the small shake of her head, all that wild fluttering hope collapsed. Mystery Doctor was right, and the frozen feeling swallowed me up again.
"Miss Fitzgerald," Kowalski said. "Maura. I need you to tell me what happened tonight."
"It's Mo," I corrected him, stomach clenching. Nobody calls me Maura, not unless I'm in trouble, and since I've spent the last seventeen and a half years avoiding trouble, I don't hear it very often. Mystery Doc had called me Mo, right off the bat. And he'd been straight with me about Verity; this guy was just giving me a measuring stare and asking questions. Screw that, I decided. If the cop wasn't going to tell me anything, I didn't have to share, either.
"Okay, Mo." He raised his eyebrow, clearly humoring me. "What can you tell me about this evening?"
I fiddled with the blanket. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Where were you and Miss Grey going?"
"For ice cream," I said. August in Chicago is like living in a bowl of chicken broth, the heat and humidity making the air oily and oppressive. Air conditioning and ice cream are the only cures.
He smiled, like a coconspirator. "Just down Kedzie? My wife says I gotta lay off their butter pecan."
This must have been the good-cop part of the routine. When I didn't smile back, or say anything else, he wrote something down in his notebook. "What time was this?"
"I don't know. Nine o'clock, maybe? Ten? I wasn't really paying attention. We had a lot to talk about." Like Verity blowing off our college plans for absolutely no reason. I shoved the thought away.
"So you left Martino's, and then what?"
I had another vision of those leathery black shapes and shuddered before I could help myself. My rib cage protested sharply. "I don't remember."
Kowalski's eyes narrowed. "Try."
"I don't know." My voice cracked. "They came out of nowhere."
"There was more than one?"
"I ... think so." Too many to count, especially after the first blow.
Gingerly, I folded my arms over my chest, as if it would protect me from his questions. "I don't know."
Kowalski sighed wearily. "Mo," he said, "I have been a cop for twenty years this March. I have four daughters, every one of them my pride and joy. My youngest is just about your age. And even though I've been on the force her whole life, she still thinks she can put one over on her old man. She's wrong, which is why she's spent more time grounded than a Cubs pitcher on the disabled list. Now, you look like you've got more sense than my Jenny, so why don't we skip the part where you jerk me around."
I wondered if poor Jenny had to sit on the receiving end of a lot of lectures like this. Probably. "It was dark. Someone hit me. I don't remember anything after that." Verity's scream, beneath the roar.
"Someone did a hell of a lot more than hit you. The doc says you've got a cracked rib and a dislocated shoulder, for starters."
That felt about right. I shrugged with the good shoulder.
"You recognize anyone?"
I shook my head. It sounded crazy, especially in the bright light of the ER, but I wasn't sure they had faces, much less any I knew. But saying so didn't seem like a great idea.
"They say anything?" Words I couldn't understand, more guttural than German, and whatever they were saying wasn't, "Welcome home." Verity's words—the few she'd been able to shout before they cut her down—were nothing I'd heard before, either, something fluid and silvery in the dark of the alley. I took too long to answer.
"Mo. What did they say?"
"I don't know." True enough. And I didn't know why I was stonewalling Kowalski. Maybe I thought he wouldn't believe me. Whatever had come after us in the alley was unbelievable, but I had the bruises to back up my story. Maybe I thought he'd blame me.
Maybe he should.
But Mystery Doc had been honest when I asked about Verity, and Kowalski had just ignored me, so round one went to Mystery Doc.
Kowalski tapped his notebook against the bed rail, and I tuned in again. "Your uncle is Billy Grady, right?"
I scowled at the change of subject. "He's my mom's brother."
"You two close?" A commotion was building down the corridor.
"He owns the bar next to my mom's restaurant. I help out sometimes. So?"
"Your father worked for him, too?"
My hands clenched the blanket, and I forced them to straighten again. "My dad?" Seriously, who cared about my family right now? The only family who mattered was Verity, and she was dead. Kowalski was worried about my dad? My father was a lot of things—absent, selfish, and a felon, to boot—but he sure as hell wasn't in that alley with us.
The curtain was ripped aside with a harsh rattle. "Don't say another word to this man, Mo."
Uncle Billy, in the flesh.
Chapter TwoI dropped my head back against the pillow in relief. Uncle Billy brushed past Kowalski, full steam ahead, but the sight of me stopped him short. I wondered how bad I must look to put that stunned look on his face.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he breathed.
Pretty bad, then.
Without taking his eyes off me, he called out, "In here, Annie," and my mother appeared, looking decades older than she had at the restaurant this afternoon. Another cop, younger, in a uniform, followed her in.
"Maura! Oh, Mo! Oh, my baby!" Eyes welling, she rushed to me. "Oh, sweetheart," she cried, pushing my hair back with trembling hands.
I love my mother, but she is not at her best in a crisis. Still, the sight of her, in her sensible khaki skirt and blue blouse, her hair scraped back into a bun, her wedding band worn and glinting dully on her hand, made everything too ordinary not to be real, and my tears began again. "Mom?"
"What happened?" She kept smoothing my hair back, like she did when I was a kid, and she smelled like violet hand cream and tea. "I was in bed for the night—you know I'm working the morning shift tomorrow—and then the hospital called, and so I called Billy, and we came as fast as we could. Do you know how I felt, Mo? I've been dreading that call. Every parent has nightmares about it. It was horrible—just horrible—I was frantic, absolutely frantic. I said rosaries all the way here." Also typical Mom. She asks me a question and answers before I can get a word in.
She paused for breath, and Uncle Billy cut in. "What happened?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kowalski pause in his conversation with the other cop, shift his weight, and turn his head to catch my response.
"It's all a blur," I mumbled. "My head ..." My head really did hurt, and with each new visitor in the already-crowded room, the ache spread and deepened.
"Are you in pain? Can they get something for you?" Mom held her hand against my cheek for a second, grasping my good hand as if I might slip away. "Tell me what you need."
"They won't tell me anything about Verity." I choked out the words.
Excerpted from Torn by ERICA O'ROURKE Copyright © 2011 by Erica O'Rourke. Excerpted by permission of K TEEN BOOKS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Mo has been groomed to be a good girl. Quiet, accepting, never talking back, she's been taught not to think not to act. Her demure state becomes the basis for her biggest regret, the night her best friend Verity is murdered in front of her. Mo wakes in the hospital and finds herself the only lead to the grisly attack but the ambush wasn't normal. She can't exactly tell the police and her family about the unnatural element of Verity's death. Unfortunately the events are being blamed on Mo and her uncle's ties to the mob. Her life is turned upside down as the police stubbornly investigate the wrong angle and her already overprotective family puts her on lockdown. It's not all bad though with the hot and dangerous bodyguard Colin shadowing her every move. Colin's presence does get a bit inconvenient. Verity was a very special girl. One with power. And that power has somehow passed to Mo. She'll have to trust the handsome mysterious Luc to help her full fill Verity's lost destiny. Mo will be thrust into a magical world that's not quite welcoming and Verity's killer is still out there. The conspiracy is bigger than Mo could have imagined and trusting the wrong person could cost Mo her life. Torn was a fun read. It was nice to watch Mo break free of the social constraints she and her family imposed on her, growing into a stronger more assertive person not content to living in the shadows and disappearing. There wasn't as strong of a mob presence as I would have thought given most reviews I read prior to my purchase. But the love triangle is one I enjoyed and has the possibility for more in the future. Though this reads like a stand alone the threads where open enough for sequel that I would pick up.
Erica O'Rourke did a fabulous job with this darkly, exciting novel about Mo Fitzgerald who is torn between two guys and worlds she doesn't begin to understand. Torn is definitely addictive. You cannot put it down once you begin. The only thought is to get back and see what is happening next. Mo Fitzgerald is a normal seventeen year old about to be senior in high school who is a witness to her best friend, Verity being murdered. Somehow, Mo escapes from the murderers and vows to find them and exact vengeance for Verity. Mo is no stranger to secrets, but learns that even best friends have secrets from one another. Attempting to get vengeance for Verity, Mo has to choose between two men that are both equally dangerous in their own ways. Colin, who is duty bound to protect her, and Luc, well he is very mysterious. In her effort to get revenge on Verity's murders, Mo must enter a world she doesn't know even exists, a world of raw magic and deal with people who aren't everything they seem. Can she do it? No spoilers here! O'Rourke has created characters and a story line that is made believable with her masterful crafting. Mo seems likes any other high school senior you might actually meet on the street and the dialogue between characters flows with reality even in the face of the unbelievable. This book was provided to me free of charge by Kensington Publishing Corp for an honest review. The opinions are my own.
I am under the impression that this novel will be a trilogy and I might be a "Thirty Something" but there is nothing like a great YA novel! A YA novel that has this thirty-something year old wanting MORE! I had never heard of Erica O'Rourke, but she is now on the top of my "to watch out for" list for certain! Mo has been dealt a hand of cards that your average teenage girl would not normally be able to handle. Her daddy is in prison, her mother is a workaholic to keep a roof over Mo's head and food on the table, her over protective uncle is part of the mob and her best friend Verity dies in her arms during the summer before their senior year. For most teens, this would be more than they could handle before cracking, but Mo never cracks. Mo in on a journey to find out why her best friend was killed; she wants justice and will stop at no ends to find it! However, while searching for this justice, she realizes Verity was not the perfect friend she made herself out to be. She finds herself entangled with an overprotective bodyguard (Colin) hired by her uncle while lusting after Luc, a far from normal young man from New Orleans that not only shows her magic, but sets her heart aflutter. Mo's journey leads her to learn how and why Verity was murdered, along with learning new information about her uncle and father, and in between she learns that the world isn't as normal as we all think it is. A little magic here and there can turn a person upside down. I'm really looking forward to reading the next novel in this series. I was a bit disappointed at the conclusion until I realized there will be two additional novels. O'Rourke hooked me from the first chapter and I couldn't stop until I put the novel down! I'm certain young teenagers will enjoy this novel as much I have.
Remember when a teacher would ask you to write a 10 page paper but you could only come up with 2 pages... so the next 8 pages are BS... that is what happened with writing this book. The dialog between characters were awful, many many many times the author would paraphrase whats already been written... this caused the characters, esp Mo, to become annoying. It took me 3 painful months to finish reading and i was determined to finish it. I realized today because of all of the paraphrasing and wasted words, i can finish the book by skimming it. Thank goodness i am done, and this will be the first author on "writers who needs to pay me to read their book" list.
This would have been a really good book if the the main character wouldn't have been so whiney the whole time. It makes me think of when you tell someone not to look back and they do it anyway just because they are so stubborn. Good story but the girl hated how the girl was portrayed.
I really enjoyed this story line and I'm looking forward to more books in this series. The book is an easy, fast-paced read. I found myself thinking about the story when I wasn't reading and looking forward to picking the book up again.
Maura "Mo" Fitzgerald and her best friend Verity get attacked while out one night. With Mo's family connections to the mob, everyone assumes that she was the target of a hit that went wrong and killed Verity instead. Everyone except Mo that is because she saw the creatures that attacked and they may not have been human. Mo is a likable, smart girl who is a bit shy but was never jealous of Verity who constantly got the spotlight and the attention. We get to know Verity through Mo's memories and in flashbacks and the two girls have a good, solid friendship. After the attack, Mo struggles to come to terms with Verity's death and the fact that her best friend was keeping secrets from her. One of those secrets is the dangerously handsome and charismatic Luc who may have been Verity's boyfriend and who also holds the answers to Mo's questions. Mo's life is further complicated by the equally handsome Colin who has been hired to protect her but it's hard for a girl to solve a murder mystery when her every move is being watched. Torn is a great combination of magic and the mob. The story is fast paced and exciting. Mo finds herself caught up in the dark and deadly world of powerful magic that she never knew existed and the mob world that she always knew but tried to distance herself from. Once you start reading Torn, it's hard to put down. I want to know more about the world of magic that Luc grew up in and more about Colin's back story. I loved Torn and can't wait to read the sequel, Tangled, which comes out in February of next year. The covers of these books are so gorgeous and striking... Content: Profanity, kissing and violence. More appropriate for older teens.
Holy cow this was a super exciting read. I sat down one evening and stayed awake until I read every page. I maybe 30 but I do enjoy YA books and this one is now one of my new YA favorites. I can't wait to read the other books in the series. Mo (Mouse/Maura) tries to go unnoticed all her life except her quietness is what she becomes known for thus the nickname Mouse that is shortened into Mo. Between her sudden new found unwanted 'fame' because of a terrible tragedy and the attention of two slightly older men Mo's life gets turned upside down in a hurry. Trying to resolve the issues at hand, she uncovers family secrets and her best friend's secretive second life. What I loved about it; 1. Torn is very fast-paced. 2. The opening line is unique and grabs your attention. 3. The characters (good and bad) are all well rounded and help make Torn what it is. Without either the good or the evil characters, I don't think this book would have been as great. 4. The ending was perfect and created a level of excitement/anticipation to know more about Mo. 5. The leading men Luc and Colin were both yummy in their own way. Like Mo, I think I would have a hard time choosing between the two men. 6. The romance was sweet, soft, and not rushed to the point it felt unbelievable. 7. The actual plot was crafty and refreshing. 8. There were no slow points. 9. The attention to detail in the book created a very vivid picture in my mind as if I had sat down and watched it on TV. 10. The level of magic and how it was used in the book was also fun and thrilling. I liked the paranormal element Erica, the author, added. The witches (if you call them that) were amazing. The Darklings were just creepy but in a good way for the book.
I read all 3 books in 3 days I had the book with me everywhere at work picking my kids up at school cooking dinner lol couldn't put it down sucks its only a trilogy would of loved to read more!!!!!
I got into this by reading the middle book first, so of course I wanted to finish the story. Harry Potter readers will need a new lingo to read these books (compare "appareate" with "beyond") which is OK. Still, as regards the fact that sex is primarily for the purpose of pro-creation it seems a little thoughtless that almost non of this found its was into the series. Still, it was nice to give men a little more recognition for beinng able to oppose their passions than is often given them. I will not look for more books by this author.
Can't wait to read the 2nd book.
Another good one... Number 2 is just as good as Number 1. And if you liked these two, don't forget to move on to the 3rd, it's awesome :)
Waiting on the next book to come out. Good series, stong storyline.
Great reads can not put down not for teens only