Release date: January 26th 2014
Della Doe Deare isn't like most people. Most people begin their life on the day they enter the world; the day they're born. Della, well, hers began on the day she turned eighteen. After all, it was the day she first heard her real name, and that of her mother. With nothing but a couple of duffel bags and a folder full of questions, she travels to coastal North Carolina to claim a house that she inherited from a grandmother she never knew.
She has two goals: discover why her mother ran away from home all those years ago, and avoid the family that had left her to rot in an inept foster care system. Hard to do when the family she's been trying to avoid is dragging her into an unimaginable world... a world on the brink of war, and both sides want her dead.
All Della ever wanted was to know who she was, but her journey to self-discovery might just lead to destruction.
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
this book was freaking amazing! Regan Claire is an awesome writer and I couldn't put this one down! I loved the characters and the story rocked! everywhere the story went there was something new and interesting to love.
Della is such a strong character in this story and my heart goes out to her several times as her past is brought up, but I am even more impressed by how she handles herself at every turn. my favourite of all the characters were Dove and her cousin Cash these two and there antics cracked me up over and over!
The magic and the battles in the story blew me away! it was so creative and amazing! I would so love to be able to do these things! Regan Claire explains everything in such a detail as if you were watching it on t.v and I would so love to see this book as a movie! it would kick ass!
you don't get to see much of the bad guys in this first book as they are mostly talked about but what you do see of them is terrifying! I sure wouldn't want to be up against them even with all that magic!
if you haven't read this yet I highly recommend it! a great story for all you fantasy readers out there!
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number finally hits us. It is, after all, the year you are finally
an adult, finally in charge of your own life. Most people wake
up on that monumental birthday and run to the mirror,
convinced that they were magically transformed during
their 8 hours of sleep into a bona-fide adult. Others just lie
in bed, thinking about the momentous changes that are
sure to be coming.
I’m sure there are some people who just go about their
day as if nothing were different and usually nothing really
is. I like to think that those are the people who are most
content with their lives... The people who have no unanswered
questions, no haunting pasts, and no uncertainty
about their futures.
When my 18th birthday arrived I didn’t rush to the mirror
eager to see my grownup self. And being in the foster
system since birth kept me from seeing that day as if it
were any other.
I probably lay in bed for 10 minutes before my alarm
finally convinced me to get up. 18 was huge. It was a birthday
I had waited impatiently and anxiously for. It meant I was
legally an adult and for foster kids like myself that’s a big
deal; it meant that I was no longer a ward of the state. Finally,
it meant control. I didn’t have to worry about getting a new
family if I made a mistake. No more psych evaluations, no
more child services, no more any of that kind of stuff that
made up my life. I was free!
It also meant that I was, suddenly, responsible for myself.
Just the day before I had a team of people to answer to;
people that fed me, clothed me, told me what to do and
when to do it. If I had felt like a prisoner to the system
before, I felt as if I were adrift at sea now.
After getting out of bed I gingerly stepped over my two
duffel bags’ worth of clothes out into the hallway and made
my way downstairs. Most of my room was already packed. I
didn’t have many personal belongings, which would make
moving that much easier since Margaret, my foster mother,
was no longer responsible for providing me with a room.
Margaret was, as always, already up when I walked into
the kitchen. She was an early riser and was usually drinking
her second cup of coffee by the time I rolled out of bed.
The previous eight months had actually been pretty decent
because of her. She was an elderly woman, with salt and
pepper hair and a disapproving mouth; not exactly warm
and cuddly, but she treated me well enough. She kept mostly
to herself except at mealtimes, when she insisted that we
be together. I’d had worse rules. I think she appreciated
my company since her own children so rarely visited, only
twice since I moved in.
Though my world already felt so different, that morning’s
routine continued as it usually did. Margaret finished
making her oatmeal and started on the coffee while I poured
milk into my Lucky Charms, then we both sat down to eat
in companionable silence at the beige card table she kept
in the kitchen. When the meal was finished I grabbed our
mismatched dishes and brought them to the sink, before
lathering them up with lemon scented dish soap and playing
the part of dishwasher, as I always did. When I reached
for the flamingo-decorated dish towel to start drying, I was
surprised to find that Margaret had already started on the job.
“I can finish this up, Margaret.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities Della, but I can at least dry
the dishes on your birthday.” Not knowing what else to do
I thanked her, then turned to go back down the hallway
into my soon-to-be former room, but was stopped by a
tentative touch on my arm.
“Della, the new kid isn’t supposed to be here for another
couple of weeks. You’re welcome to stay here until then,”
Margaret said, surprising me completely. I knew that she
was going to get another ward soon; she’d been fostering
consistently for the past 10 years and was a way station of
sorts, only holding on to a kid for a few months until a
better place was found.
“Um, thanks Margaret, but I’m already packed and it
won’t take that long to move my things into the apartment
above the convenience store.”
My job at that store had been a lifeline. I mean, the pay
wasn’t exactly great, but in a smaller town the job options
were limited, especially since school was out. My boss Marv
was letting me rent the small room above it for cheap in
exchange for fixing it up and making the space livable, since
it barely fit that bill.
After thanking her for the offer I went on to my room. I
was supposed to meet one last time with my social worker
that morning, and even though she no longer had any say in
my life, old habits die hard and I put on my nicest sundress
and made sure my mousy brown hair was properly subdued.
The meeting really should have been before my birthday,
to see how I was preparing for the transition, but things
kept getting held up. Sara was by far the best social worker
I’d had, mostly because she hadn’t been doing the job long
enough to become disenchanted with it; she still cared. She
was the one who got me placed with Margaret instead of
in another group home.
I didn’t hear her car pull up, but I knew when she arrived
all the same. I always had good, even uncanny instincts for
that type of thing, and I was at the door by the time she
was up the steps. This would be the last time I saw her, but
I wasn’t expecting this particular visit to affect my life in
any way—I thought that meeting represented the end of my
old life, but really it marked the beginning of my new one.
About the Author
A Tidewater girl born and bred, Regan Claire's first friend and love was the Atlantic. Growing up being told the legends about Pirates and American Natives common in coastal VA and NC, coupled with being an only child, did wonders for her imagination; Regan had one foot in fantasy-land ever since, a trait her dear husband heroically endures (and one she secretly hopes her daughters have inherited). Her family moved inland to Nashville while she was entering tweenhood and not a day went by that she didn't miss her childhood playmate and her crashing waves. Nashville has her perks though, namely the love of Regan's life and their two sweet girls. Their insane mutt-dog and the stray cat that refuses to leave their porch aren't too bad either. Regan loves fairytales A LOT, teen movies (preferably with dancing or singing), reads entirely too much, and is constantly late.