Title: Evading the Dark
Author: E.M. Rinaldi
Genre: YA Paranormal
Cover Designer: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design & Photography
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
High school sucks. It doesn’t matter who you ask; jock, cheerleader, computer nerd, or band geek, they will all say the same thing: It’s a nightmare. But Casey is still wondering how she got the short end of the stick. Just a Sophomore at the prestigious Luthos Academy for Magical Beings, Casey already knows more about heartache and fear than any almost-sixteen-year-old should. Orphaned and left to be raised by the Academy, she spends her days training to become a Guardian, but that dream is looking dimmer with every day that passes.Unlike the wand-waving heroines in all her favorite books, Witches in her world don’t cast spells, they are born wielding the power of nature: water, fire, earth, or air; powers Casey never developed. She’ll be lucky if they even allow her to take her final exams.
She is top of her training class, but that doesn’t keep her from being looked down upon by every other being at her school. All Casey wants is to be given a chance, instead she finds the only life she’s ever known targeted by an unfathomable evil. Thrust into the center of an age-old prophecy, a war is coming with Casey at the reins.
Will relying on her hard earned training be enough for her to make it out alive?
E.M. Rinaldi lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband, Milz, and their slightly psychotic pup, Boone. She works as a Registered Radiologic Technologist,taking pictures of mangled bones for hours on end- then she writes about all the bizarre situations her characters get themselves into while she was away. She is a Second Degree Blackbelt and can’t write a story without at least one fight scene in it.
When she’s not writing or trapped at work, E.M. likes to read (obsessively), clear her DVR, and have all night Buffy marathons with her friends, complete with cookies and cinnamon rolls.
Her love for writing stems from an early age where she would create stories on an old computer program and force anyone within grabbing distance to read them. Not much has changed; be warned: stay out of grabbing distance.
All I knew was pain. It consumed me, its excruciating strength refusing to let my mind focus on anything else. I struggled, an unwilling passenger of my own mind, as I felt muscle being separated from bone and each individual tendon tear as they were twisted in a direction they were not meant to go. I suffered the deep throb of a bone being pulled from its natural joint. I wanted to give up and just let the agony overwhelm me until it hurt too much to stay conscious. When my body could no longer take the torture, I would be free.
But before I could give in, my attacker made a crucial mistake. As he made another tug on my arm, a twinge shot through my shoulder forcing a strangled yelp from my mouth, and he laughed. The bastard stood there—I bet with a damn smirk on his face—and laughed.
Oh, hell no.
His laughter reached a part of me that I hadn’t noticed until that moment, a part of me that was literally fighting to get out and kick this guy’s ass. Anger fueled the adrenaline that now pumped through my body in full force. Muscles coiled and tensed in preparation to fight. My foe felt my change in posture and went to tug on my arm again, but I was already moving.
I let instinct guide my free hand right into his nose. The sickening crunch of breaking cartilage filled the air, but I didn’t have time to enjoy the surprised look on his face before my well-practiced side-kick sent him flying toward the back wall of the gym. Reality came back to me slowly; I was still standing in a fighting stance, blood roaring in my ears, heart pounding in my chest, as I became aware of the other students in our training class.