Title: I WishAuthor: E.B. Tatby
Publisher: Dream Tag
Pages: 329
Genre: YA/Fantasy
Format: Kindle
Purchase at AMAZON
All her life, sixteen-year-old Kenza Atlas has heard the stories, but she never believed them. She never expected the allure of power or, worse, how far the dark shadows could cast. Genies and wishing are for fairy tales, not teenage girls, and especially not in Omaha.
But when a Moroccan jinn with undulating tattoos and mysterious black eyes whisks her 500 years back in time, she witnesses the death of her powerful ancestor and the gorgeous slave she loved. They sacrificed themselves to escape the Caliph, a tyrant named Mazin.
And now he’s after Kenza.
He’s tracked her to her present time. Now she spends her days stealing paranoid glances over her shoulder, obsessing over a slave who died hundreds of years ago, and praying her family will survive.
Book Excerpt:
For as long as I could remember, my dad would recite Moroccan legends, filled with magical jinns who could manifest anytime, anywhere . . . but I never believed his stories. I had attributed them—and all of his other tales—to a hyped up imagination, ranked right up there with fairy tales and never-going-to-happen endings. I didn’t believe that a living, breathing Prince Charming existed, or that any prince had a kiss potent enough to awaken a comatose princess, and I didn’t believe in jinns. Even if my dad’s animated retelling made beautiful and devious genies sound exotic, I preferred realism, boring as it often proved in Omaha.
That’s why I didn’t freak out when a soft breath trailed across my shoulders. But when it happened again I spun around, eyes darting around the room. Nothing was there except my bed, my desk with my embarrassingly antiquated computer, a couple of posters on my lavender walls, and the pile of dirty clothes by the closet. Still, to be safe, I pushed on my door to make sure it was locked, and then sped from window to window wiggling all the latches. Nothing looked out of place, but something felt very wrong.
When a pungent smell permeated the room—worse than the rotten Easter eggs I’d forgotten in my playhouse when I was five—I cupped my mouth, trying my hardest not to puke. My dad had often described the putrid smell that accompanied jinns, so this had to be my vivid imagination on steroids. Not sure if the smell or my rising fear created the nausea, I stood in front of the mirror and peered into my startled, dark-brown eyes.
“Stop being ridiculous,” I whispered.
I blew out a puff of air to reassure myself that I was being silly. But when a fleeting shadow floated past the mirror, I spun around, gasping, and splayed my back against the wall. I shook my head several times, but the apparition didn’t disappear.
“Who are you?” I exclaimed.
Wordlessly, she floated toward me, her long dress rippling effortlessly, never touching the ground. I focused on the fact that she was floating. I tried to analyze it, to make sense of it, but suddenly she paused right in front of me, within reach. She wasn’t tall, but compared to me—and the fact she was floating—she had to tip her head down to look at me with her wide coal-black eyes. Her caramel-colored heart-shaped face and bow-shaped lips certainly made her look Moroccan, as I would, if I hadn’t inherited my mom’s light complexion and smattering of freckles.
“I don’t believe in jinns,” I whispered, my voice quavering. “I’m imagining this. I know I’m imagining this, so don’t even think that you’re scaring me, because you aren’t.” The spooky apparition tilted her head to one side but didn’t budge. I drew in a sharp breath, clenched my fists.
When she locked her eyes on me, I studied what appeared to be undulating henna tattoos casting lacy shadows over her skin . . . but I couldn’t tell if they were real tattoos or only an illusion. I peered harder, noticed her ringlets of black hair sway from side-to-side slowly like a mermaid’s would underwater; studied how her long sparkly dress shimmered with a million stars from the night sky, emitting tiny bursts of light all around my room.
I raised my eyes and stared hard into her eyes, intently wishing I could burn the image—although stunning—from my mind by sheer will. I tried to call for my dad, but nothing came out. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I drew another breath. “You can go now,” I said, praying I sounded brave.
She stared into my eyes, willing me to “hear” her. No words were spoken, but I heard an unfamiliar voice in my head. “It’s time,” she communicated, “I’ve come to prepare you.”
My heart beat out messages: Caution! Danger! Run! I sucked in a breath, bolted for the door, unlocked it, wrapped my hand around the knob, and gasped when it became clear that someone on the other side was trying to get in.
For More Information
- I Wish is available at Amazon.
- Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
- Read Chapter One here.
Meet the Author
E.B. Tatby was born and raised in Sioux City, Iowa. She is living her life-long dream of being an Author and is passionate about inspiring others (especially teens) to follow their dreams. Above all, she wants to remind them of the power to wish.I Wish, a YA story, is her first published novel. She is currently working on a sequel.For More Information- Visit E.B. Tatby’s website.
- Connect with E.B. on Facebook and Twitter.
- Visit E.B.’s blog.
- Contact E.B. Tatby.
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