The Lost Knight by Candy Atkins BookBlitz

The Lost Knight by Candy AtkinsThe Lost Knight

by Candy Atkins

Genre: YA Fantasy

May 20th 2016 | Monster Publishing

How am I supposed to save the world when I’m not strong, not brave, not smart, and not particularly good at most things? I ran away from home the day after my thirteenth birthday when Auntie and her weird friend attacked me. Now I’m on the run with the Grim Reaper and a scary soldier. And I’m no longer on Earth. They were expecting metobe a Knight. The savior that’s supposed to stop a war and prevent the invasion to Earth. But I’m not. They grabbed the wrong girl. I just don’t know how to tell them.

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Excerpt (Chapter 2):

I get ready for school and ignore Auntie’s request that I change my hair. I grab the black jeans I wore yesterday and pick up the black sweater that’s lying next to them, but a quick smell check informs me that I need to wash it before I wear it again.

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I slow my pace. Goosebumps race up my arms and my feet stop moving. I scan the street for anything out of the ordinary but everything seems to be as it should. I shake off my willies and head off to school.

The feeling won’t leave. Something isn’t right. Then I hear it. I never hear the laughter or singing during the day, but today I hear both. In fact, the singing is louder and clearer than it’s ever been. It’s in a language I’ve never heard, so that’s probably why I couldn’t understand it before. Last night I saw creatures at the foot of my bed, and today the singing. Did Auntie see them too, or am I going crazy?

“Shhhh. Shhhh. That’s her,” whispers through the air, but there’s no one around.

Mrs. Belmonte is taking her garbage to the curb. She’s the only one on the street and I can see she’s not talking. “ That’s the Agatha.” I stop and thoroughly scan the area. Someone must be playing a prank, but I don’t understand how they could do it without an elaborate setup. Plus, I’m not important enough for anyone to go to that much trouble.

“ Yep. Her.”

The sound seems to be coming from the maple I’m standing next to, almost as if one tree is talking to another, but there are too many voices. They’re exceedingly high-pitched and talking in unison. Can bugs talk? Can I hear bugs? No, bugs don’t talk, so obviously that’s not what I’m hearing.

My gaze darts down the street. I don’t want anyone to see me listening to the tree. I used to believe that the singing was something everyone heard. People always talk about a song they can’t get out of their head, or maybe an argument they had with themselves, but when I told Auntie about my songs, she told me that only I can hear them. She said I must never tell anyone or they’ll take me away. I never asked where they would take me or who they were, but I’ve never told anyone anything ever again, not even Auntie.

The voices used to be just songs, but now they’re talking to me, or more accurately, about me. Delusional, that’s what this is called. I’m imagining things in my room and hearing voices.

I can’t get enough air into my lungs. My fingers are tingling and my arm is going numb. I need to get away from the bugs, or whatever they are. I don’t want to run and draw attention to myself, so I walk as fast as I can while trying to look relaxed.

“Which one?” the voices continue.

“That one.”

“That’s the Agatha.”

“Goes to school down the street.”

“Why did she do that to her hair?”

The bugs in each tree speak as one voice and discuss me with their neighbors in the next tree. I don’t care who sees me, I’m running.

The wind in my ears and the blood thumping through my veins make it impossible to hear the voices, so I sprint faster. I cross the street against the light and weave around the honking cars. Even though I don’t go far, my lungs almost implode from the effort. My right thigh is cramping so intensely I’m afraid I might fall.

As I reach the school, I have to slow down because the other students are clogging the sidewalk. I shove anyone who is in my path out of the way. Some of the kids complain and a few push back, but I keep running.

Once I’m safely inside, the noise of the other students drowns out everything else. I bend over and rub my thigh as I try to fill my burning lungs. I’ll never run again for as long as I live. When my air returns and I can keep my breakfast down, I stand. There, on the locker right beside my face, is a fly. Without thinking, I smash it with my bare hand. There’s no way I’m letting them follow me in here.

“Gross,” a girl across the hall says to another.

The burning in my face replaces the fire in my lungs. I can’t believe I just did that, and in front of Trishel Gomez, of all people. My hand is covered in fly guts and Trishel is witnessing the whole disgusting episode.

“So Aggi,” she says, leaning against the lockers. I wipe the fly guts on my jeans and see her flash of revulsion. This day couldn’t get any worse.

“What made you decide to dye your hair?” Trishel asks so sweetly it’s easy to tell she’s faking.

“I’m thinking of dying mine, too. Where’d you get yours done?”

I don’t answer. I just put my head down and walk away, hoping she doesn’t follow. She’s making fun of me the way mean girls do. I don’t know how to fight back when they pretend to be nice but really aren’t. Her friends laugh at me as I walk down the hall, and I’m relieved they let me go.

First period is science. I share a lab desk with Joe Thompson, one of the most popular boys in school. I’m not up to facing him, so of course, he’s waiting for me when I arrive. I keep my head down and hope Joe loses interest in whatever he has planned for me today, but no such luck.

When I reach the desk, I notice he’s left a white carnation on my side of the table. I ignore it as I sit down and chide myself for getting to class so early. Joe is unfazed by my lack of reaction as he waits for more of his followers to arrive.

When the class is full, except for Ms. Quraishi of course, Joe picks up the flower and drops to one knee. “ Agatha Stone, you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I must have you. Will you marry me?” The last part is hard to understand through his laughter.

My blood stops circulating and I freeze solid, praying he’ll tire of this game, and willing the teacher to hurry up.

“You just got rejected by Agatha Stone!” a girl in the back of the room shouts. The entire class erupts into laughter.

I don’t understand why this is funny, especially since he does stuff like this all the time. He asks me to every dance, recites obscene poetry, and tries to hold my hand on a regular basis. It wasn’t funny to begin with, but the repetitiveness of his torture should be boring his audience by now. It’s been going on for years, though, so I guess I’m wrong.

I make it through the rest of my morning classes without incident and, as is my ritual, I hide in the library during lunch. I get some chips and a soda out of the vending machine and peruse the aisles.

My nightmare rattled my nerves. Only now I can’t remember what I was dreaming about, just the events that happened after I woke up. I try to find a book in the psychology section that can explain what’s going on with me.

I’ve always been different. I don’t know how to talk to people, and I don’t know why people do the things they do. I also don’t like the stuff others seem to like, and they certainly don’t like what I like. Different had been hard, but this new delusional twist is terrifying.

I open a book at random and then slam it back into place. I’m not insane. I’m in the wrong section. Where I should be is in mythology. That thing last night looked a lot like the Grim Reaper. Maybe I read something that stuck in my head and came out in the nightmare.

Death is dark and cloaked like that. Every cartoon wanting to depict something scary has the red eyes in the dark. The devil sometimes appears like that, too. But what I saw wasn’t scary. Maybe that’s the trick: like a Venus flytrap, it makes you comfortable, then eats you.

Frustrated, I leave the library to get an early start to my next class. I don’t pay any attention to my teacher and try, without success, not to think about the weird events of the last few hours.

“Ohhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! I know this one! I know it!” say the high-pitched bug voices.

I snap my head around and scan the room. No one is talking, and no one hears the bugs. The teacher continues his lecture as I search for the source of the voice or voices—many voices saying the same thing.

”Agatha,” the teacher says.

Mr. Hallman has asked something, but I have no idea what the question was. Why do teachers get such a thrill from picking on the weak? Mr. Hallman knows I don’t know the answer but called on me anyway just to humiliate me.

“Cape of Good Hope! I know! I know! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Cape of Good Hope!” the bugs chant.

I don’t know the question Mr. Hallman asked, and I’ve never heard of the Cape of Good Hope, but the bugs seem to know. “ Cape of Good Hope?” I mumble.

“Very good,” Mr. Hallman affirms, sounding surprised. I’m surprised, too! How do I know that? Maybe I heard the question and somehow knew the answer, but I don’t know what the Cape of Good Hope is.

The bugs are singing again. This time it’s in English and about famous explorers. I’m definitely not writing these songs. It’s one thing to make up a language, but I don’t know these explorers. It’s coming from a large Yucca tree in the corner that’s swaying in the breeze from the open window. However, there’s no breeze on this side of the building. The tree is dancing. It’s singing a song and dancing to its music.

I’m as nutty as Auntie. The thought makes me jump out of my chair and gaze helplessly at the startled faces staring back at me. I need to get out of here. I grab my book bag and walk out the door. Mr. Hallman says something about my leaving and the Yucca bugs say goodbye, but I ignore them.

I run as fast as I can toward home, but even though it’s just a block and a half, I’m not going to make it this time. I’m almost there when my lungs won’t take any more. This is the most exercise I’ve ever had in my life and it might kill me. I’m nauseous, but once some air gets into my lungs and I walk off the leg pain, I notice that the bugs have stopped talking. Relieved, I walk the rest of the way home.

Just as I reach my stoop, the bugs mock me. “ You’re in trouble. You’re in trouble,” the high-pitched voices chant in unison.

I try to jump up the first three steps at once, but miss and crash painfully into the concrete.

“You don’t want to go in there,” the bugs tease, shaking the trees branches.

I ignore them and limp inside. Is it rude to not speak to one’s delusion? Walking up the stairs clears my head and I relax for the first time today. Auntie won’t be mad that I’m skipping school because she doesn’t care if I go or not.

When I walk into the apartment, the air leaves my lungs with an audible whoosh. My body refuses to draw in another breath as my eyes travel around the empty room. Before I can form an explanation, I leap backward out the door. I bend over to make the oxygen rush to my brain faster. I can’t believe I was so distracted I accidentally walked into the wrong apartment. I turn in a slow circle and press my hand to the bridge of my nose. I’m in the right place, but I check the number to be sure.

I cautiously step back in. Everything is gone, including the carpets. Moldy stains cover the floor and walls, and the entire place has been swept clean and wiped down. The smell of garbage-cats has been replaced with the scent of rotting lemon-pine trees. Funny how our apartment looks smaller with the stuff out of it. My vision spins but straightens out before I can faint. How is this possible?


About the Author

Candy Atkins

Candy Atkins is a full-time writer who lives with her husband and two kids in Orlando, Florida. She’s an avid reader and lover of all things fantasy and sci-fi. Her debut novel, The Lost Knight, is volume one of the six-part Lost Knight Series.

Her life’s journey has taken her from dining with the President to being on food stamps to running her own company. And since all author bios end by naming and quantifying pets…she also enjoys spending time with her boxer, Butler, and Wynona the cat.

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An Average Curse by Rue Booklitz + GIVEAWAY

An Average Curse by RueAn Average Curse (The Chronicles of Hawthorn #1)

by Rue

Genre: YA Fantasy

Release Date: June 20th 2016

Onan island hidden from the rest of the world, Flynn Hawthorn, the ninth daughter of the ninth daughter, lives under a curse.

Her birth fulfills an ancient prophecy. She is destined to inherit the wand of the High Priestess and save her people by reuniting the separated halves of The Book of Shadow and Light.

But in a land filled with magick, Flynn is forced to live her life as a Watcher—born into magick, but unable to wield it.

As the threat from the Shadow Coven of Southeil grows, Flynn must pretend—with the help ofher best friend, Hazel—that she actually has magick. Hazel would do anything for Flynn, but the game they are playing may cost them their lives…

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Key to the JourneyKey to the Journey (The Chronicles of Hawthorn #2)

by Rue

Genre: YA Fantasy

Release Date: June 21st 2016

Young Flynn Hawthorn anxiously awaits the return of the initiates to Moa Bend. Normally she doesn’t look forward to her training sessions, but she’ll do anything to end her “endless” afternoons trapped in Mistress Tamsin’s Herb Hut.

Without warning, Flynn’s world turns upside down. Her best friend is missing and could be lost in Dreamwood Forest. Her mother, the High Priestess, finally tells Flynn the truth about her father-an outsider, from beyond the mist. And somehow, the falcon she chose to train istriggering strange episodes of time-warped astral travel!

Flynn embarks on a journey to uncover long-awaited answers. Will she find a way to save her people from the growing threat in Southeil, or will she unwittingly put herself directly into the hands of the Shadow Witch?

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About the Author

Rue

2015 and 2016 IPPY Award Winner. 2016 National Indie Excellence Awards Finalist. Rue is an award-winning fiction author and in her limited spare time, she reads voraciously. Her love of the written word led to the pursuit of a B.A. in Journalism from Pepper dine University in California and a lifelong passion for writing. Her respect for indigenous cultures, oral traditions, and the seasonal magick of nature inevitably brought her work to the world of fantasy. The story of Flynn Hawthorn has been part of her heart and imagination for nearly a decade.

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The Summer of Lost Wishes by Jessa Gabrielle BookBlitz

 

The Summer of Lost Wishes
by Jessa Gabrielle
Genre: YA Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 13th 2016

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When sixteen-year-old Piper Davenport’s mom packs up their lives and heads to the coastal Florida town of Coral Sands, Piper doesn’t care much for the view…until she catches a glimpse at Rooks Carter. 
 
Her mom’s “look but don’t touch” policy regarding the boy next door is all but impossible to maintain, especially since he’s helping his dad restore Piper’s new home, the Calloway Cottage. A gorgeous, shirtless boy makes this boring little town a bit more exciting.
 


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About the Author

Jessa Gabrielle is a young adult author who lives in the land of salt water, palm trees, and sandy shorelines. She believes that summer love is pure bliss and that she was a mermaid in a past life. The Summer of Lost Wishes is her debut novel.
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Say You Want Me by Tara West BookBlitz + GIVEAWAY

Say You Want Me
Tara West
Publication date: July 18th 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

I want Cesar Cruz. God, how I want him. And he’s made it no secret he desires me. I can’t handle another heartbreak, one more haunting memory that threatens my sanity. What I need is to feel wanted by a man who will love me unconditionally and forever, a man who will be patient and loving, not apathetic and abusive.

What will happen if I give in to temptation and spend one night in his arms? Will he want more? Will I? Whether I say yes or no, I fear I’ll suffer regret, but as my need for him grows stronger, I may not have a choice. I only pray he will be gentle with me and my heart.

 

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EXCERPT:

I couldn’t help gaping at the tall, tanned, and dripping wet hunk of man flesh before me. Cesar’s broad shoulders filled the doorway as he looked at me, wearing nothing but a smile and a skimpy towel draped low around his waist.

“Can I help you, bella?”

Ugh. Why did he have to call me that? I thought it was Spanish for pretty girl, or maybe it was a term of endearment. He hadn’t called me his bella since last week, when I told him to stop. No surprise he refused to listen. Cesar was persistent.

I averted my gaze, trying hard not to stare at the glistening water on his taut stomach or the tattoo on his shoulder. “You really should put some clothes on.”

“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his thick, dripping hair. “I was in the hot tub.”

My jaw dropped. “You have a hot tub?” It was only last weekend I’d had to sneak into his backyard to retrieve my wayward dog. I didn’t remember seeing anything other than a few lawn chairs, a punching bag, and a grill.

“I had it installed two days ago.” His wicked grin stretched nearly ear-to-ear. “I’m disappointed you haven’t been peeking over my fence.”

I scowled. “Why would I want to peek over your fence?”

“Same reason I want to peek over yours.” He laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that sent a jolt of lust straight to my lady parts. My poor vibrator would be working overtime tonight.

I tried to deepen my scowl, but it might have come out as a smile instead.

Get a grip, Savannah. Do not let this man have control over you.

Truthfully, I had intentionally spied over Cesar’s fence a few times when he hit his punching bag. He was usually shirtless, with his back to me. His skin was drenched in sweat, and his backside was ripped with tanned muscles. Now all those muscles were in my face, tempting me like a tall glass of iced tea on a hot summer day. One taste, I kept telling myself, was all I needed to quench my thirst.

Liar.

Ever since I’d been old enough to take an interest in the opposite sex, I’d denied myself their forbidden fruit, all because I didn’t want to give my father an excuse to call me a whore. That asshole had my mind so twisted, I’d been terrified of even looking at boys. I’d missed my senior prom, not only because I couldn’t afford a gown, but because I knew my dad would accuse me of having sex with my date. I’d refused to give him the satisfaction of comparing me to my dead mother.

But Bud Boudreau was dead now, too. I’d cut him out of my life five years ago. Why was I still terrified of men? How had I managed to let that sick fuck wield so much control over my life when he was no longer a part of it?

Gah! My brain hurt too much from thinking about him. What I needed was a tall drink and a soak in the tub. Cesar’s hot tub came to mind, but no, I had to clear my mind, not muddle it even more.

“Look.” My shoulders caved inward with the weight of my depression, “I’m tired. Can I just get my dog?”

“Sure.” He threw open the door and stepped back.

I crossed under his broad arm, warily eyeing him as I stepped over the threshold.

“You look like you need to relax. Maybe a glass of wine and a soak in my tub?”

I stumbled, tripping over my own two feet.

He grabbed me, clutching my waist with a strong hand, preventing me from falling face-first onto his floor. I clung to his shoulder while righting myself.

“Easy there,” he said with a wink.

I turned into his embrace, gaping up at him as if I’d been struck mute. Was he a mind reader? How did he know I needed a drink and a soak? I looked at him through narrowed eyes as I pulled out of his embrace. “You don’t give up, do you?”

He shrugged, stepping back as he unwrapped the towel from around his waist. “I want to show you something.”

Dear God, was he going to show me his penis? I should have shielded my eyes, but I couldn’t move. Only after the towel had fallen, revealing a pair of black swimming trunks, did I breathe a sigh of relief, or maybe it was disappointment.

“W-What?” I asked, my voice sounding surprisingly small.

He slung the towel over his shoulder and wordlessly grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the sliding door leading to his backyard. “Just look,” he whispered.

My mind was too preoccupied with the feel of his warm hand cradling mine, and the way his breath tickled the exposed skin of my neck, to process what I was looking at. My gaze skimmed over the big square tub with steam rising from the top that sat on the patio. My eyes widened when I saw Nacho chasing Macy. She barked and wagged her tail, ducking under a lawn chair before tearing up the grass, zooming around the yard as if she had a rocket wedged up her furry butt. Nacho caught her, and she turned on him, chasing him across the patio. It was the funniest sight, especially since Macy weighed only ten pounds and Nacho, a yellow Lab, was easily ten times her size.

No wonder my dog was always sneaking over here. It was clear they were the best of friends. I felt bad for stealing her away from Nacho every night. She was happier when she was with him.

My throat constricted as I looked at Cesar through cloudy eyes. “They are really having fun, aren’t they?”

He softly smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Animals need companionship, just like people. It’s no fun being alone.”

I repressed the urge to shudder at his touch. I involuntarily swayed toward him, drawn toward his masculine heat like a moth toward flame. “No, it isn’t.”

 

Author Bio:

I write books about dragons, witches, and handsome heroes while eating chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. I’m willing to share my dragons, witches and heroes. Keep your hands off my chocolate. My young adult and new adult romances have been Kindle, Nook, and iBooks bestsellers. A former high school English teacher, I am now a full-time writer. I enjoy spending time with my family, interacting with my fans, and fishing the Texas coast.

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The Last of the FireDrakes by Farah Oomerbhoy Book Blitz + GIVEAWAY

The Last of the Firedrakes by Farah OomerbhoyThe Last of the Firedrakes ( The Avalonia Chronicles #1)
by Farah Oomerbhoy
August 15, 2015
Fantasy, Teen & Young Adults

16-year-old Aurora Darlington is an orphan. Mistreated by her adopted family and bullied at school, she dreams of running away and being free. But when she is kidnapped and dragged through a portal into a magical world, suddenly her old life doesn’t seem so bad.

Avalonia is a dangerous land ruled by powerful mages and a cruel, selfish queen who will do anything to control all seven kingdoms—including killing anyone who stands in her way.

Thrust headlong into this new, magical world, Aurora’s arrival sets plans in motion that threaten to destroy all she holds dear.

With the help of a young fae, a magical pegasus, and a handsome mage, Aurora journeys across Avalonia to learn the truth about her past and unleash the power within herself. Kingdoms collide as a complicated web of political intrigue and ancient magic lead Aurora to unravel a shocking secret that will change her life forever.


Excerpt 1
Chapter 3
Kidnapped

        For a second that felt like a lifetime, everything stopped; I felt like I was floating in nothingness. Then I blinked, and, when I finally opened my eyes and focused again through the tears, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The Last of the Firedrakes Quote           I found myself standing at the mouth of a small cave situated on a hill and overlooking a quiet, moonlit valley. On my left, a dark forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, treetops glistening silver in the light of the full moon. The hills around us undulated into wildflower-filled meadows that lay sleeping in the dewy night.

Far down in the valley, I could see a little village, its lights twinkling in the distance. To my right, a waterfall splashed playfully into a small river that ran down into a lake, next to which the little village was built. The moon here was fuller and larger than I had ever seen it, and the night sky was awash with a fantastic array of glittering stars.

Had I passed through the tapestry? Where was I?

I looked around, disbelief clouding my judgment. I was still trying to get my bearings after that strange moment when I had been inside the tapestry and nowhere at the same time. It gave me a funny feeling, as though I had been lifted out of my own consciousness and then put back into my body.

          A warm breeze brushed past my face and played with my hair. Gone were the cloudy grey mist and the cold, nipping wind of the English countryside. I drew in a sharp breath—the air was crisp and clear, sweet smelling, and fresh. The moonlit valley was filled with fruit trees, wildflowers, and rolling meadows.

“How did we come here? Where are we?” I asked, still confused.

“You really are ignorant,” said Oblek, glancing at me. “I take it your uncle didn’t tell you anything?”

I shook my head and looked down. Oblek had tied my hands with a rope he had with him while I was still dazed and looking around. It was humiliating, and the rough ropes cut into my wrists, rubbing them raw every time he pulled me forward.

I had to find some way out of this. And, at the moment, the only thing I could do was discover more about where I was. Then, when I got an opportunity, I could escape and find my way back up to the cave on the hill, where we had arrived out of the tapestry.

But then what?

The Last of the Firedrakes Quote 2        Christopher was probably dead, and Aunt Arianna would doubtless blame me for everything since I had disappeared at the same time. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t really want to go back, and, now that my adoptive parents were dead, I had nothing to return to.

I was starting to panic. I had nowhere to go, and my mind was imagining an array of horrible outcomes of my kidnapping. My palms had become sweaty, and my racing heart was thundering in my chest as I half-walked and half-ran, desperately trying to keep up with Oblek’s giant strides.

“Why are you doing this?” I pleaded with my kidnapper.

But Lord Oblek said nothing. He didn’t even look at me. He just kept walking ahead and dragging me along behind him, with no more explanations as to what he was planning to do with me.

I was terrified, and I had no idea if I was going to survive this. But I tried to be brave. Maybe I could talk my way out of this?

“You do know that this is called kidnapping?” I said, trying to reason with Oblek.
He didn’t bother to answer.

“What will happen to me now?” I squeaked, my voice breaking, as I tried not to cry.
“Queen Morgana will decide what is to be done with you,” said Oblek, finally.

      Queen Morgana! The woman from my dream? It was not possible that this, too, was a coincidence. It must be the same Morgana, the one who had tried to kill my real mother.

Who the hell was she?

Suddenly all of this seemed extremely scary. I hoped that I was still dreaming and that there was no way I had actually traveled through a magical tapestry into some strange land. It all seemed very exciting in books. But actually being kidnapped and then hauled around like an animal, traveling deep into a land I knew nothing about, was not my idea of fun.

I had to get away from this horrible man, and fast.


The Last of the Firedrakes by Farah Oomerbhoy

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Farah OomerbhoyFarah Oomerbhoy

Farah Oomerbhoy is a young adult writer with a master’s degree in English literature from the University of Mumbai. Farah loves the fantastical and magical and often dreams of living in Narnia, Neverland, or the Enchanted Forest. Her debut novel, The Last of the Firedrakes, Book 1 of The Avalonia Chronicles started on Wattpad where it received a Watty Award in 2015 and over 1.5 million reads. Since publication, The Last of the Firedrakes has gone on to win a silver medal in IBPA’s Benjamin Franklin Awards, become a finalist in the USA Best Book Awards and become an international bestseller. Farah lives with her family in Mumbai, India where she can be found checking for magical portals in every closet.

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