I've read a LOT this month, almost forty books. The weather here has been crazy hot lately and FYI, Jen the Bookworm doesn't like the crazy hot so she stays inside and reads instead of cleaning her house. I may have read almost forty books but I managed to not read any of them listed in that challenge I signed up for in May. Grrr.
You may have noticed that Jane isn't posting that much right now. Her family always takes advantage of the season and spends all summer having fun. She'll be back more often in the fall when her life goes back to normal :)
What Kind of Reader Are You? will continue into July. I've also got my eye on a few books that I want to reread and discuss a little in a retrospective spotlight.
I've decided that enough is enough. I'll be starting The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest tomorrow. Might as well start out the new month right.
Lastly, this month's teaser from Karen Marie Moning's Shadowfever landed in my inbox a little while ago. The release date for this sucker has been pushed back until January 18! At double the usual number of pages I suppose I can wait a little longer but I'm dying to know who Mac killed. Here's the excerpt:
My ghosts whisper to each other across me but I can’t hear them. There’s only one way I’ll ever be able to hear them again.
I turn my head for Darroc’s kiss.
As his lips close over mine, the duality inside me threatens to tear me in half, and if it succeeds, I will lose my best chance at accomplishing my mission.
I need punishment for my sins.
I bury my hands in his hair, and channel all those feelings into passion, pour it into my touch, kiss him hard, violently. I turn us both around and slam him up against the wall, kissing him like he’s all that ever existed, kissing him with a full measure of humanity. It’s a thing a Fae can never feel, no matter the form they wear—humanity. It’s why they crave us in bed.
He staggers for a moment, pulls back and stares down at me.
My eyes are wild. I feel something inside me that terrifies me, and I just hope I can hang on to the edge of this cliff I’m on. I make a sound of impatience, wet my lips and shove at him.
“More,” I demand.
When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.