Cover Reveal: CHAOS, by Christine O’Neil

I’m excited to help out other YA authors, and through Rockstar Book Tours, I am happy to help reveal this cover today! It is AWESOME! WARNING: there is some language in the blurb not suitable for younger (like young, younger) readers.

Today Christine O’Neil and Entangled Teen Ember are revealing the cover for book 1 in The Kardia Chronicles Series, CHAOS. Coming out this August!

On to the reveal!

Blurb:

My name is Maggie Raynard. After sixteen years being just plain me, suddenly I can kill people when I lose my temper. Turns out I’m a semi-god, descended from Aphrodite. Sounds cool in theory, but when I accidentally put my ex-boyfriend in a coma, things go downhill pretty fast.

Now some new guy named Mac Finnegan has made it his mission in life to continually piss me off. I’m stuck learning how to use my new powers while also dealing with regular high school problems, and with this—annoying and super-hot—guy all up in my business, I’m about to flip out.

But it gets worse. I just learned there’s this council for semis that wants me dead. They think I’m bad to the bone and when my ex suddenly dies, it’s like everyone is determined to take me out. Mac might turn out to be my only salvation, but he’s got secrets of his own—that may just kill us both.

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Exclusive Excerpt

I was done with guys.

Not in that fake, I-say-that-but-deep-down-I-really-want-a-boyfriend kind of way, but in, like, the seriously-I’d-rather-eat-maggoty-cheese kind of way. No relationships. Not for me. Not now and maybe not ever. Who I am…what I am, and what I’m capable of? Everyone’s better off this way.

“I have to stop at my locker real quick,” I said, veering to the right and cutting through the crush of kids heading straight like wildebeests to a watering hole. Libby followed and then stood by me as I fiddled with the lock.

“What’s that?” She pointed to a white piece of paper sticking out half an inch from one of the slots in the olive metal door.

I tugged the padlock open and flicked the catch with my thumb. “Dunno.” Maybe Bink had left me another note. Bink was my neighbor, bud, and—most days—my ride home. Last time I’d found a note in my locker, it was when his cell phone died and he needed to bail early. I seriously hoped this wasn’t a repeat performance.

I mentally ran down the list of people I could bug for a ride and came up empty. Libby always had to stay after for some activity or another, and I only really had two other people I could call “friends” and neither lived near me. I wrinkled my nose in anticipation of the dirty-sneakers-meets-day-old-bologna smell of a bus filled with kids who’d had last-period gym and opted not to change clothes. With a sigh, I pulled open the door and the white rectangle floated to the floor.

Libby bent to grab it and read it out loud. “‘Dear Sad and Lonely…'” She trailed off and went quiet for a few seconds until her peachy complexion went hot pink, and then she gasped. “Oh my God. Holy… Oh, Mags, you are so not going to like this.”

I snatched the paper from her, trying to ward off the growing pit in my gut.

 

Dear Sad and Lonely,

Since I can almost guarantee She is about to give you some seriously shite advice like she does every week, let me be the voice of reason. Your boyfriend is just like most high school guys. Cut him some slack and, even better, why not offer to learn how to play some of the games he likes? He’d probably appreciate the effort and might even take you somewhere nice after. If that doesn’t work, sit him down and let him know how you’re feeling so he can tell you what’s going on with him. Could be that constantly calling the things he likes stupid isn’t the best way to get what you want in this situation, yeah? In any case, don’t let the ramblings of some bitter emo chick who’s probably never had a boyfriend ruin your relationship.

Hope it helps,

He

 

The shock was too thick to let the anger in right away, but as stunned as I was, I knew exactly who was behind this. There was only one person in the whole school who would use the word “shite.”

Mac Finnegan.

Opinionated, annoying, hot—did I mention annoying?—Mac Finnegan, who had barely given me the time of day since he’d come to Crestwood High a couple months ago. Mac Finnegan, who thought he was soooo cool with his Irish accent and his mocking smile. Mac Finnegan, who inexplicably made me want to lick him like an ice cream cone and then immediately rinse my mouth out with acid.

How had he discovered my secret? Only Bink and Libby knew I was the girl behind “That’s What She Said,” and I would have bet everything I owned that neither of them would have ratted me out.

Didn’t matter, though. One way or another, he knew. Even worse, he’d chosen to taunt me with it. Bitter emo chick who’s probably never had a boyfriend, indeed. I had a boyfriend once and it hadn’t ended well for either of us. I was in no rush to repeat the experience. Besides, what did this Irish asshat care?

Anger tightened my chest. I could feel the power rising in me, clawing to get out, roaring to be heard. The hair on my arms stood on end as I tried to breathe through it, to let the fury dissipate and flow out of my pores in harmless pings of energy, but it was no use. I pressed a hand to my locker and opened up the tiniest of escape valves, the spout of the teakettle, whistling off a stream of steam. The cheap metal instantly heated against my skin, the door buckling and warping on the spot just beneath my fingertips.

“Uh, Mags—” Libby whispered urgently, but a male voice cut her off.

“How’s it going there, Libby? Maggie.”

I turned around, still trying to catch my breath, and there he was, strolling by, a grin splitting his sinfully beautiful face.

Mac Finnegan, who had decided that being the new kid wasn’t bad enough, so he had to actively go out of his way to make enemies. Mac Finnegan, who wanted to turn my world upside down rather than minding his own business. Mac Finnegan, who didn’t know the meaning of live and let live.

Mac Finnegan, who clearly had no idea who he was fucking with.

 

 

About Christine:

Christine O’Neil was born and raised in Connecticut, where she spent most of her childhood outdoors catching salamanders, frogs and colds. When she wasn’t terrorizing Mother Nature, she was curled up under the covers with her nose in a book. As an adult, she’s stopped stalking amphibians, but still loves books. When she isn’t reading, she likes to spend her time people-watching. In fact, she’s probably watching you RIGHT NOW O_O She’s also pretty obsessed with writing YA books, but if she had to pick another profession she would be a ninja…or a Professor of the Dark Arts.

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1 eBook of CHAOS International

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Excerpt #2 – The Sword of Danu

Another little teaser for you all.  I will get one more out before the weekend…maybe.  Or I might just let you drool over these so you’ll buy the book…

 

A loud splashing sound behind them made Megan turn her head. The bridge was falling into the lake like a piece of wet spaghetti. The collapse started at the island and raced toward them.

“Too late. Run!”

It was difficult, since the water had risen to almost midcalf. Everyone splashed toward the shore as fast as they could. Ronan stopped for a moment to gather up the end of his cloak in one hand and prevent the wet wool from bogging him down.

The bridge continued to plop into the lake, and it was catching up. Megan tried to pull more speed from her legs, but with the water level rising, it was impossible to gain traction. Harriet was just ahead of her, completely lost to panic. There was still so far to go.

“Faster!” She passed Harriet, grabbing her hand on the way by and dragging her along. The collapse was only a few feet behind, and although the shore was close, it felt like they would never reach it.

Ronan and Rachel jumped to dry land and turned to face the lake, yelling for the others to hurry. Megan and Harriet had almost caught up with Claire, who was not a good runner under the best of circumstances, let alone through a foot of water.

Claire cast an uncertain look over her shoulder. As confident as she was about her brains, she was equally unconfident
when it came to anything physical. She tripped over her own feet playing soccer.

“Come on, Claire, you can do it,” Megan urged. “I know you can, but you’ve got to move!”

Claire’s speed increased a little. By now, Bailey had made it to shore. He stood with Ronan and Rachel, his hands balled into fists, pressed to his sides. Megan, Harriet, and Claire were still ten feet from the end of the bridge when the collapse caught up with them. All three dropped into the lake, screaming as they hit the water with a giant splash.

Megan flailed her arms, trying to get her bearings. Her feet touched the bottom, and she pushed upward. Her
head broke the surface; she took a big gulp of air…

And her feet were still on the bottom.

She shoved her sopping hair out of her eyes then twisted her upper body around, one way and then the other, trying
to make sense of what had happened. Claire and Harriet were nearby, spluttering with surprise as they stood in chest-high water.

There was a strange sound nearby, and at first Megan couldn’t quite place it. She dislodged the water fromher ears, and the source of the sound became not only recognizable but perfectly clear.

“Oh, shut up, will you! It’s not funny.” She pushed her arm through the water, sending a rooster-tail toward the shore, but it fell far short of where Rachel rolled on the ground, her face red from her howling laughter.

“Are you kidding? It’s hilarious! You should see the three of you, floundering about like refugees from the Titanic.”

Teaser – The Sword of Danu

So here’s excerpt #1 for The Sword of Danu (The Library of Athena, Book 4).  Enjoy!

Chapter 1– Trouble Always Knocks Twice

“Oh. My. God! Not again!”
Barefooted, hair dripping from the shower, Megan sprinted down the hall with her hands over her ears to block out the blaring of the burglar alarm, going off for the third time that morning. In her rush to get down the grand staircase she tripped, nearly colliding face-first with the eight-foot-tall statue of the goddess Athena on the landing.

Slipping and sliding on damp feet across the marble floor of the entrance hall, she managed to make it to the alarm panel beside the front door without killing herself or breaking any of the priceless antiques that filled the manor, which for her was a miracle.

“Shut-up-you-stu-pid-thing!” She punctuated each syllable with a jab of her finger as she keyed in the alarm code, all the while cursing whatever gods had decided that her blissfully quiet summer vacation needed some shaking up.

Two and a half months had passed without a single sign of the Order or its spies. Maybe they were on holiday, too, although she thought that was about as likely as it was for her to suddenly wake up in her apartment back in New York City. And now, on the day before she started her second-to-last year at St. Agatha’s College for Girls, the private school she attended here in England, the four month-old burglar alarm was having sensitivity issues.

She pushed the last number of the code, but the alarm kept up its incessant whine. Another try of the code was like pushing an elevator button, thinking it would make the car come faster—nothing happened. Maybe she had remembered it wrong?

“Why won’t you just be quiet!” She pulled a polished wand of wood from her back pocket and pointed it at the
alarm box.

“Quietis!”

A blue ball of energy erupted from the end of the wand and shot into the panel. With a loud POP, a shower of sparks, and the smell of ozone, the squawking alarm stopped, leaving its dulcet tones echoing in her ears.

“Crap.” Other words ran through her mind, but she wouldn’t say them out loud. She put her wand back in her pocket and punched the panel, angry for messing up. Again. “Bailey!” She probably could have used the bell pull
or even gone to find the butler, but yelling made her feel better.

“Yes, Miss?” Bailey appeared in the archway between the entrance hall and the lounge as if he had just popped into existence. He looked annoyingly perfect for so early in the morning—spotless, wrinkle-free black tails, the dome of his bald head shining as if he polished it like the banister.

“You roared?” Bailey’s face was dour and stoic, and Megan heard the disapproval in those two little words. He might as well have added what he really wanted to say in his nasal British accent: Shouting across the house
is rude, Miss.

Megan refused to let him guilt her into better manners.