Book launch, giveaway and excerpt: ‘Forget Me Not’ by Stacey NashPosted: February 21, 2014
So, continuing with the Forget Me Not love — yay, book launch! The book was supposed to launch on 17 February, but it has just gone live RIGHT NOW. I’m assuming this has to do with a chain of events involving a stolen USB, a car chase and a gun fight involving Amazon blackops and a chimpanzee disguised as a mailman. Is that just me?
Also, I feel kinda weird launching a book today that I reviewed already. But weird in a smug sort of way, you understand. 😉 Anyway, here it is. With an excerpt to get you hooked like I was hooked.
Title: Forget Me Not (Book I in the Collective series)
Author: Stacey Nash
February 17, 2014 February 21, 2014
Publisher: Entranced Publishing, Rush
Genre: YA speculative fiction
Since her mother vanished nine years ago, Anamae and her father have shared a quiet life. But when Anamae discovers a brooch identical to her mother’s favorite pendant, she unknowingly invites a slew of trouble into their world. When the brooch and the pendant are worn together they’re no longer pretty pieces of jewelry — they’re part of a highly developed technology capable of cloaking the human form. Triggering the jewelry’s power attracts the attention of a secret society determined to confiscate the device — and silence everyone who is aware of its existence. Anamae knows too much, and now she’s Enemy Number One.
She’s forced to leave her father behind when she’s taken in by a group determined to keep her safe. Here Anamae searches for answers about this hidden world. With her father kidnapped and her own life on the line, Anamae must decide if saving her dad is worth risking her new friends’ lives. No matter what she does, somebody is going to get hurt.
Add Forget Me Not on Goodreads!
Enter the book launch giveaway!
“I certainly won’t be forgetting Nash’s debut, FORGET ME NOT! A vividly fast-paced tale with adventure, secrets, and kissing!” — Kimberly P. Chase, Author of THE APOLLO ACADEMY.
“I highly recommend “Forget Me Not” for people who love story-driven YA. Five stars!” — Me 🙂
Easing the door closed, I climb out of the attic and head to the bathroom to clean my dust-covered hands. Water rushes from the spout and splashes against the sides as the basin fills. A reflection of me stares back from the mirror, my dirty hand clutching my aching chest. Today everything feels so raw, open, and fresh, like it only just happened. Why isn’t she still here?
Rubbing my hands clean, I delve into my pocket for the jewelry. Bringing it to my collar, I pin it into my blouse and the hard edges of the brooch prick my skin. My thumb brushes over the smooth, round sides of the pendant and when I pull it over my head, the chain catches on my hair. After I twist it through the tangle so it finally falls cool against my skin, it nestles in the hollow of my throat. I pick it up between my fingers and with reverent slow strokes, rub my thumb over the shiny yellow center—the pendant Mom never took off.
A shiver shoots up my spine and out through my limbs like an electric current, zapping every cell, every fiber, every part of my being. Walking on graves, that’s what Mom would have said. Maybe it’s an omen about her.
I plant my palms on either side of the full basin and peer into the still water taking a moment to collect my thoughts. The water reflects only the cream ceiling. That can’t be right. I do a double take and look again.
My chest tightens. I hold my hand up, but I can’t see it—not my arm, not my chewed fingernails, not my leather watch on my wrist. Where am I? Mouth gaping, I look into the mirror again, but I see nothing.
Not even my face.
I dip my finger into the warm, reflection-free water. Circles ripple in ever growing rings, but there’s no image. My gaze flits to the mirror, but I see only the open door. I have no reflection.
Stacey grew up in the Hunter Valley of New South Wales. It is an area nestled between mountains and vineyards. Full of history and culture, it provides wonderful writing inspiration. After dabbling with poetry during her teen years, Stacey stopped writing until after university when she was married with young children. Now she loves nothing more than spending her days with her children and writing when inspiration strikes.