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{Tour Stop} Bitter Frost (Frost #1) by Kailin Gow – Book Feature + Excerpt

Posted on the 13 December 2012 by Littlebookstar @LittleBookStar


{Tour Stop} Bitter Frost (Frost #1) by Kailin Gow – Book Feature + Excerpt

Genre: YA Paranormal Fantasy
Published: June 1, 2012 by The Edge
Series: #1 (Frost)
Length: 235 pages

All her life, Breena had always dreamed about fairies as though she lived among them…beautiful fairies living among mortals and living in Feyland.

In her dreams, he was always there the breathtakingly handsome but dangerous Winter Prince, Kian, who is her intended. When Breena turns sixteen, she begins seeing fairies and other creatures mortals don’t see. Her best friend Logan suddenly acts very protective.

Then she sees Kian, who seems intent on finding her and carrying her off to Feyland. That’s fine and all, but for the fact that humans rarely survive a trip to Feyland, a kiss from a fairy generally means death to the human unless that human has fairy blood in them or is very strong, and although Kian seemed to be her intended, he seems to hate her and wants her dead.

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The dream had come again, like the sun after a storm. It was the same dream that had come many times before, battering down the doors of my mind night after night since I was a child. It was the sort of dreams all girls dream, I suppose – a dream of mysterious worlds and hidden doorways, of leaves that breathe and make music when they are rustled in the wind, and rivers that bubble and froth with secrets. Dreams, my mother always told me, represent part of our unconsciousness – the place where we store the true parts of our soul, away from the rest of the world. My mother was an artist; she always thought this way. If it was true, then my true soul was a denizen of this strange and fantastical world. I often felt, in waking hours, that I was in exile, somehow – somehow less myself, less true, than I had been in my enchanted slumber. The real world was only a dream, only an echo, an in silent moments throughout the day it would hit me: I am not at home here.
I would shake the thought off, of course, dismiss it as stupid, try and apply my mother’s armchair psychoanalysis to the situation. But then, before bed, the thought would come to me, trickle through the mire of worries (boys, school, whether or not I’d remembered to charge my iPod before getting into bed, whether or not my banner would be torn down yet again from the homeroom message board) – will I have the dream tonight? And then, another thought would come to me alongside it. Will I be going home again?

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