It's my BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF Connie's birthday today, and to celebrate, we're getting all kinds of excited for book 2 of her YA series the Division Chronicles. Have you missed AJ and Julius' bickering? What about Isaac's kleptomania (and hotness)? Or maybe you're wondering if Johnny and McKenna are actually going to admit they like each other (because they totally do)? If so? Hallerlujer! We gots some Book Two!
Blurb:
After all the preparations, Nicholai’s warriors stand on the threshold of warfare, the demons entering the realm in battalions and the world unknowingly depending on the army’s success to continue intact. But the battle is only the beginning of deadly struggles, and the soldiers will soon realize how little they know, how many things are at stake, and how much they have to lose.
Love, hate, hope, despair, anguish, joy… The journey is a gauntlet of emotion and combat, threatening their resolve as much as their lives.
Will their training and ties be enough, or will the complications and the forthcoming evil forever cripple the world’s last hope of survival?
Not yet convinced? Why not excerpt?
AJ sensed him
there, standing wordlessly some feet in the distance, just like she always
recognized his presence when he lingered near. She absorbed the comfort and
happiness he brought her – not that she’d admit that out loud – before sighing
and speaking. “It’s called making a bed, Julius. It’s pretty commonplace.”
He didn’t push
away from the doorframe, instead leaning further against it while he continued
to observe her. “Sweetheart, nothing’s commonplace when you do it.”
Hearing the grin
and affection in his voice, she smiled, peeking at him over her shoulder. “Is
that a compliment or an insult?”
He gazed upward to
stare at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, then returned his attention
to her, his shrug carefree. “Both.”
She smirked.
“Sweet talker.”
“Odd ball.” He
finally moved from the threshold, unhurriedly advancing toward her. “You know,
most people make their beds in the morning. Not ten o’clock at night.”
She snorted.
“Yeah. I’m gonna make my bed as soon as I roll out of it at six AM. I wouldn’t be making it now if I
didn’t have to wrestle the sheet back on four times a night.” Finally setting
her pillow in its position, she turned to him with an unashamed grin.
He chuckled, his
adoration plain, and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “You’re one of a
kind, you know that?”
“Compliment or
insult?” she teased again.
“Compliment.” He
smiled, cupping her cheek. “Definitely a compliment.”
“Sweet talker,”
she repeated, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. Wrapping her
arms around his neck, his circling her waist, she dove into the moment,
reveling in the wonderful sensations only Julius incited. Safety. Warmth.
Passion. So many more she couldn’t quite put a name to, the combination too
heady and consuming to adequately decipher. It was simply a Julius effect, and
its wonder had no equal in her life. Gradually breaking away, she knowingly
lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t come here just to make fun of me over my
bed-making habits.”
“Maybe I came up
here just to kiss you.”
“If that were the
case, dear Julius, you wouldn’t have waited until I kissed you.”
Narrowing his
eyes, he barely restrained his smirk at her forwardness and how well she’d
grown to understand him in their time together. “You have a point.” He stepped
back from her embrace, grasping her hand in his. “Come on. We have a mission.”
“A mission?” Her
brow furrowed, though she made no move to retrieve her palm from his, following
him in confusion as he neared the hallway. “At ten o’clock at night?”
“I believe we
already covered the time in this conversation, AJ.” He made a clucking noise
with his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You really need to
keep up with matters a bit more.”
She glared at the
back of his head, lips thinning despite her vexing boyfriend’s inability to see
her from his location. Realizing the futility of her frustrated efforts, she
clenched the fingers he clutched, smiling in accomplishment at his grunt of
discomfort. “Yeah, we covered it, but in household chore way. Not in a mission
way. What could we possibly have to do this late at night?”
He sent her an
amused glance – one she deemed condescending, particularly after the physical
hint of her annoyance – while tugging
her through the doorway. “You do realize it isn’t ten o’clock everywhere, right?”
“Of course I
realize that! I’m not a moron!”
“I never said you
were…”
She growled,
steeling her feet against the floor and prying her hand from his. “You didn’t
have to. Your little grin said it all for you.”
His stare revealed
sincere bewilderment – maybe a speck of frustration as well – and his arm
dropped to his side. “So let me get this straight. You’re angry at me… because
I smiled at you?”
Her eyes widened
in fury, one finger raising to point at his chest while her left fist braced
against her hip. “Don’t try to turn this around like I’m crazy!”
He scrunched his
forehead, gaze traveling up and down her form while he held his hands out, as
if silently offering his evidence.
She groaned,
unhappy, turning away from him to rein in her irritation. For several seconds,
she simply scanned her room, livid exhale after livid exhale falling from her
lips, but the attempts did little to calm her turmoil, Julius actually
flinching when her focus again landed on him. “It’s the grin you used. It’s the
same one that was on your face when you drove into New Mexico, and I was surprised the facility
was stationed here. Like I’m the dumbest person in the world and your number
one source of entertainment.”
Instantly, his
expression softened. “You can’t possibly think that I think that way?”
She just glared at
him.
“Look, I’m not
gonna lie.” He approached her, smiling tenderly. “You do amuse me, but
not because I think you’re stupid. You’re… animated. And quirky. But not
stupid. And I get it’s late, and no matter what time zone we’re entering, it’s
ten o’clock here and we’re handing over sleeping hours, but Nicholai insists we
need to go now.”
She kept pinched
eyes on him, but her posture loosened a bit.
He laughed,
reaching for her hand once more. “See? Animated. I can pretty much watch the
wheels in your head turn.”
“Does that make
you my mental stalker, too?”
Processing the
playful edge of her words, he kissed her knuckles and led her into the hall.
“Trust me, sweetheart. I have no desire to wander through your mind. I can’t
imagine all the weird things I’d encounter.”
She tilted her
head to the side, smiling. “Compliment or insult?”
Smirking over his
shoulder, he caught her eyes with his. “Insult.”
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About the Author:
Connie L. Smith spends far too much time with her mind wandering in fictional places. She reads too much, likes to bake, and will be forever sad that she doesn’t have fairy wings. And that she can’t swing dance. When she isn’t reading or writing, there’s a good chance she’s goofing off with her amazing, wonderful, incredible, fabulous nieces and nephew, or listening to music that is severely outdated. She has her BA from Northern Kentucky University in Speech Communication and History (she doesn’t totally get the connection either) and likes to snap photos. Oh, and she likes apples a whole big bunch.
