book-sample

So, I am reading the sample for the Maze Runner on Amazon, and I notice that it is really long, so I scroll down, and see that THE ENTIRE BOOK IS IN THE SAMPLE and I am confused, because people would just read the whole book for free, right?

But as I keep reading, I notice this: 

AMAZON’S BOOK PREVIEW FOR THIS BOOK IS THE ENTIRE BOOK, BUT THEY HAVE TAKEN OUT RANDOM PAGES 

You think you are hilarious, don’t you, Amazon?

odcom-f2a19484e599f8d23f48485190fd17eb.read.overdrive.com
Vengeance of the Hunter

The KnightAfter nearly being destroyed by a conspiracy within his Order, Kestar faces a crisis. The Knights of the Hawk have always stood against elven magic, but how can he proceed after discovering his own elven heritage? How will his Order rea…

Want to check out my writing? Come over to Overdrive for a sample of Vengeance of the Hunter, Book 2 of the Rebels of Adalonia high fantasy trilogy from Carina Press!

And all hail Harlequin’s work to get these samples available! This sample has now been added to Vengeance of the Hunter’s official page at angelahighland.com! 

Blood Bound: Chapter 1/39

     Summary:            

When Clarke Griffin walks away from Camp Jaha, her only thought is escape: from the things she’s done and the guilt she feels. Traveling the decimated remains of North America, she finds herself under the protection of the Highlanders, a reclusive grounder tribe who have little to do with the outside world. Joining them in the remote northern reaches of the Rocky Mountains, Clarke starts afresh… but leaving her past behind isn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

Prologue: May We Meet Again

Chapter 1: May We Meet Again

Keep reading

Blood Bound: Chapter 9/39

Summary:            

When Clarke Griffin walks away from Camp Jaha, her only thought is escape: from the things she’s done and the guilt she feels. Traveling the decimated remains of North America, she finds herself under the protection of the Highlanders, a reclusive grounder tribe who have little to do with the outside world. Joining them in the remote northern reaches of the Rocky Mountains, Clarke starts afresh… but leaving her past behind isn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

Prologue: May We Meet Again

Chapter 1: May We Meet Again

Chapter 2: Omens and Prophecy

Chapter 3: Scars of Passage

Chapter 4: A Step Forward

Chapter 5: Distant Music

Chapter 6: Creatures of the Night

Chapter 7: The Ultimatum

Chapter 8: Bitter Memories

Chapter 9: Marked with Blood

Keep reading

Book Sample #3

“Are you hungry dear?” Her mother looked like she’d been sleeping. But she must have had peaceful dreams. She seemed content.

“Not really, Mom. But I can make something for you, what would you like?”

“Well I’ve got this cod that should be eaten soon while it is edible. Would you help me eat a little, too? You always cook so well.”

“Alright.” She had learned to enjoy cooking years back. It was something she clung to, as all she had was her mother. It was a shared thing for them, this method of survival. Of course, her mother also had her faith. Alexis did not share it but would never try to take it away from her.

The seasonings were all in the same place they’d been all her life. She grabbed what she needed without thinking.

Her mother turned on the antique record player. It was one of the few remaining relics of the pre-war era, and was probably worth quite a bit to collectors. And it still sounded great. Alexis wasn’t used to having the music on while cooking, though. Her mother was in a different mood today.

“What’s up, Mom? You okay?”
“Why do you ask, honey? Do I seem unhappy?”
“No, you don’t. Never mind.”

Her mother laughed. “You are worried for your old mom. That is kind. Where is Andre?”
“I don’t know. Was he supposed to be here?”
“No, I just haven’t had both of my children in the same room with me, in so long. It would be nice.”
“Yeah. He just gets busy.”

Her mother nodded, and wrapped her arms around Alexis.
“I’m so proud of you.”
What had gotten into her? What was she so happy about?
“Thanks.”

She was about to place the fish in the pan when her mother turned her around and held her arms in dancing position.
“Are we dancing, Mom?”

Her mother smiled and began to lead her around the kitchen to the pace of the song. After a few twirls, Alexis loosened up and began to enjoy it. She didn’t know her mother could lead so well as a dancer. Three songs later, they stopped, sweating and smiling. “You forgot the fish, dear,” her mother said, laughing.

They watched a movie after eating. This was also unusual, and rather chilling for her to remember that only the two of them were there. Instead of five. It hurt for her to know Dre wasn’t here tonight, seeing Mom like this. She ended up tucking her mother into bed that evening, for the first time. She almost stayed the night, just to complete the ‘dream sequence’ all the way to the end. She left, though. Smiling. When someone surprises you like that, she thought, the least you can do is believe it.

We were as close as any two people could be without touching at this point and without even thinking about it, Wesley put his arms around my waist and pushed his face into my chest. I let him cry himself out, stroking his hair. When the sobbing subsided, I lifted his chin up to my face. The tough guy act was over.

 

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Listen to the first chapter here.

Blood Bound: Prologue P/39

         Summary:            

When Clarke Griffin walks away from Camp Jaha, her only thought is escape: from the things she’s done and the guilt she feels. Traveling the decimated remains of North America, she finds herself under the protection of the Highlanders, a reclusive grounder tribe who have little to do with the outside world. Joining them in the remote northern reaches of the Rocky Mountains, Clarke starts afresh… but leaving her past behind isn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

Prologue: May We Meet Again

Keep reading

Book Sample #4

Author’s note: I’m having fun selecting these samples. Mostly because I know how fun it’ll be once people read the whole thing and the samples are then understood in context. Kind of like a movie trailer, except in this case the actual movie is better than the trailer. Just know that all of these excerpts do (and will) make total sense.

Radni

That afternoon was rough. In the tattoo shop, his client seemed bent on doing everything he recommended that she not do. He’d already had to send her home the day of their original appointment, as she’d attempted to shave her own arm that morning, thinking she’d do him a favor. The skin was reddened and needed to heal, so he’d sent her home after rescheduling the appointment. She was not happy. Neither was her boyfriend, whose name she was having tattooed to her right tricep. His name, surrounded by a burning moon. She designed it herself, she’d declared proudly, as if he couldn’t tell that on first wince. Now on their second appointment, Radni had asked her to let him know if she began to feel uncomfortable and needed to stretch at all. She did not; she rather began complaining that the process was taking forever and that her arm was going to fall off. This statement was punctuated by a sudden jerk of her shoulder, which nearly made Radni drive the needle into her arm as if he were an inebriated nurse at a blood drive. She was crying from the shock of what almost happened, and the boyfriend was stammering about a physical condition she had that made her shake when she’s scared or tired, or blahblahblahblah-Radni didn’t give two fucks. He just wanted to complete the work before she drove him out of the room screaming. They wanted a break, though. He strongly suggested that they only take five minutes or so, in order to continue while her endorphins were still flowing. They left and came back in half an hour. It took about that long to get her settled again. Once the tattoo was completed and bandaged, he practically pleaded with her to not uncover it for at least a few hours. He could only imagine how soon they’d be back complaining about raising or scars.

It was so thoroughly unenjoyable that he’d wondered if he should have cheated a little, using his abilities to lessen the pain she experienced under his needle. But he vowed he would never do that. If people wanted to avoid pain, he felt, then they should avoid marking their flesh with ink. The pain was half of the point. He’d always felt that he learned the most about a person through the way they experienced, and accepted, pain. And there, in that tattoo parlor, his connection with each client was a microcosm of a world that often felt too big to love. He witnessed people literally taking ownership of the pain they’d welcomed into their body. It and the art was a part of them, a visual statement of some large or small thing that they had survived. He liked that. But this particular day was bad.

He was glad to have caught some of the sunset on his way home after work. Then he’d stopped at Market Garden. Keira was there, which he did not expect at all. Then they had ice cream. None of that might have happened if his day had ended on time. Maybe he should have felt grateful for that difficult couple. He didn’t.

The mountain of a man laid out before me looked like a marble statue, set in an unnatural pose by the funeral director.

On his eyes rested two pennies and I tried to focus on them, rather than the man’s pallid face.  He meant nothing to me, but my close proximity to death was enough to make me want to retch.

http://mybook.to/annieswar

The Relativity of Failure (Book Sample)

The story below is a translated and rewritten sample of a book by me and Miika Peltola. The Hard Way - A Book About Courageous Failures has been published in Finnish in 2012 (Kantapään kautta) and includes 15 in-depth interviews of Finnish top entrepreneurs, artists and leaders and their failure stories. The English excerpt was first published on The Mistake Bank.

Joanne was 21 and restless.

She wanted to write novels for a living, but her mother and father would not agree with the idea. They feared that the girl’s overflowing imagination would never pay for a house or a pension, no matter how amusing it might be.

The family settled for compromise. After graduating, Joanne would study languages instead of literature. So she went to college and changed her major to Classics without telling her family.

Joanne was not afraid of being poor like her parents who came from a backgroung of poverty. She was afraid of failure. At the university success meant exceling in exams. Joanne would rather sit in a cafe writing stories than attend lectures. Somehow she managed to get through the exams.

Seven years after her graduation, Joanne’s marriage had just broken to pieces. Her mother had died unexpectedly. She was now an unemployed single parent, depressed, with just enough money to stay off the street.

She was the worst failure she knew. Her biggest fears and also the fears of her parents had become a reality. Joanne felt like she was in a pitch black tunnel, but could not see the famous light at the end.

Her utter failure stripped down everything but the essential.

Joanne finally stopped pretending and confessed to herself that she was a writer. She decided to use all her energy to write out an idea she had gotten.

She was still alive. It was a good start.

If Joanne had managed to hold one of her temporary jobs, succeeded even a little, she might not have found the determination to carry out her calling. She noticed that her failure taught her more willpower and self-discipline than any of the passed exams at school ever had. She took the insight and empowerment as a sign that she should keep trying.

Joanne started writing on her old typewriter in coffee shops. Every time her daughter fell asleep in her stroller, she would begin typing like mad. When she had finished her first manuscript, she tucked the first three chapters in an envelope and sent them to an agent. 

The envelope came back quickly with a reply: “No, thank you.”

On the second try, she found an agency that would start offering the manuscript to publishers. They declined one after another. After one year and twelve rejections, Bloomsbury got interested. They offered Joanne a £1500 advance for the book. She accepted the offer, jumping and screaming from joy. The publisher made a first edition of one thousand copies.

The book was called Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Joanne is now better known as J. K. Rowling.