Remembrance
Michelle Madow
Series: Transcend Time Saga #1
Publication date: July 27th 2011
Genre:YA Time Travel
Lizzie Davenport has been reincarnated
from Regency Era, England ... but she doesn't know it yet.
Then Drew Carmichael transfers into
Lizzie's high school at the beginning of the year, and she feels a connection
to him, almost like she knows him. She can't stop thinking about him, but
whenever she tries talking with him about the mysteries behind her feelings, he
makes it clear that he wants nothing to do with her. Reaching him is even more
difficult because she has a boyfriend, Jeremy, who has started to become full
of himself after being elected co-captain of the varsity soccer team, and her
flirtatious best friend Chelsea starts dating Drew soon after his arrival. So
why can't she get him out of her mind?
Even though Lizzie knows she should let
go of her fascination with Drew, fighting fate isn't going to be easy.
PURCHASE AT ONLY 0.99
Vengeance
Series: Transcend Time Saga #2
Publication date: December 8th 2011
Genre:YA Time Travel
How
far would you go to get revenge?
When Chelsea Givens discovered that her
ex-boyfriend Drew dumped her to be with her former best friend Lizzie, she'd
never felt so betrayed in her life. Then her new friend Shannon tells her she
can help set things right. Chelsea's willing to listen, but what Shannon wants
her to believe -- that she shared a past life with Drew -- is impossible. And
what she wants her to do to get him back … well, it's downright crazy.
Could Shannon be telling the truth? And
if she is, what lengths will Chelsea go if it means making Lizzie pay?
Find out in Vengeance, the second part
of the Transcend Time Saga.
*Vengeance is the short story that
bridges the events in Remembrance and the final novel in the Saga.
PURCHASE AT:
Michelle Madow
Series: Transcend Time Saga #3
Publication date: November 14th 2012
Genre:YA Time Travel
IT'S A RACE AGAINST TIME.
In Remembrance, Lizzie and Drew changed
the course of fate so they could be together.
In Vengeance, Chelsea set fate back on
its original, deadly path.
Now, strange things keep happening to
Lizzie. Things that are omens of darkness to come. A curse has doomed her to
die an early death, just as she did in her past life. To make matters worse,
even if she can figure out who cast the curse, it's irreversible. There's only
one option left for her to save herself. It's crazier than anything she's heard
yet, and to do it, she'll need Drew and Chelsea's help.
Because to make things right, they must
go back to when it all began ... and Lizzie discovers that the final events in
her past life were more sinister than she ever imagined.
PURCHASE AT:
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
In the fall of 2008, Michelle saw Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” music
video for the first time. She thought up a story to go along with the video,
and wrote the first chapter as a homework assignment for class. Her classmates
and teacher loved it so much that they wanted to know what happened next, so
Michelle continued writing, and that story eventually became Remembrance, the first novel in the
Transcend Time Saga. She’s so happy to be able to share this series with you,
and hopes you enjoy reading it as much as she loved writing it!
Check out her website, www.michellemadow.com,
to add her on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, and her many other social networking
sites.
Michelle lives in Florida, and is hard at work writing more novels
for young adults.
Find her, follow her, stalk her at
Here's a sneek peek of Book 1 and what you get on the BONUS PACK.
Chapter 1
Today was going to be different. I could feel
it.
It wasn’t because it was the first
day of school, or that it was ten minutes after the time Jeremy agreed to pick
me up. There was something strange in the air.
Or maybe I was just being
ridiculous.
Tires screeched around the corner,
and I looked down the street, recognizing Jeremy’s red Jeep Wrangler speeding
down the pavement. He pulled up in front of my house and I hurried to the side
of his car, swinging the door open and hopping onto the hot leather seat.
“Way to be late for the first day
of school,” I said, pushing a few strands of hair off my face that had gotten
out of place during my dash to the car.
He looked at me and smiled, his
blue eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, and reached to tuck a loose curl behind
my ear. “Liz,” he calmly spoke his nickname for me. “It’ll be fine. The
teachers won’t even care on the first day.” He leaned back, the sunlight
shining through the window glistening off his sandy hair. He looked like a
model featured in a summer clothing catalogue; the pale colors of the blue and
white striped shirt and khaki shorts he wore intensified his golden tan from
his recent outdoor soccer practices.
“Not all of us have gym first,” I
pointed out. “Your teacher might not care if you’re late, but mine will.”
He shrugged and turned to look at
me again. “Why didn’t you straighten your hair today?” he asked, unhappy with
my decision to let it dry naturally.
“I like it like this,” I said, unsurprised
that it didn’t take long for him to mention it. I’d started to embrace my curls
over the summer, which was easier than straightening my hair every day. It
wasn’t like they were springy and uncontrollable. They were loose and flowing,
the kind of curls people cherished before the invention of flatirons.
“I like it better straight,” he
told me. “You look so young right now, you could pass as a freshman.”
The words stung. I took a deep
breath to calm myself, keeping my eyes focused on the road. “If I’d
straightened it, we would have really been late to school.”
He reached his arm across the
gearshift and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Liz. I meant it as a compliment.
You look great when you straighten it.”
I shrugged and pulled my hand out
of his, looking out the window as my house disappeared behind us and blended in
with all the others in the quaint New England neighborhood. The early September
leaves were still green, and I soaked in the last days of summer, not looking
forward to the weather getting cold. Even though I’d lived in Pembrooke—a town
right outside of Manchester, New Hampshire—for my entire life, I still hated
the winter. Whenever snow, sleet, or ice fell to the ground, I stayed in as
much as possible. There was no point in going outside and freezing to death.
Jeremy stopped at a red light and
reached over to turn on the stereo. The heavy pounding of an awful rap song
filled the car; it was so loud that the floors vibrated with the bass. The old
man in the rundown truck next to us glared and shook his head in disapproval.
“When did you start listening to
this kind of music?” I asked, lowering the volume.
“Some guys on the team got me into
it.” He grabbed his iPod off the dashboard and handed it to me. “Check it out,
it’s pretty good.”
I glanced at it before putting it
back where it was, uninterested in the other songs in the album. “You know,” I
said, looking back over at him, “I just realized we don’t have a song.”
The words sounded stupid after I
said them.
He thought about it for a second.
“I guess we don’t,” he said, switching the stereo over to the radio. “Why don’t
you put on any station, and whatever comes on will be our song.”
It sounded ridiculous, but I
reached towards the tuner to change stations, closing my eyes before turning
it.
AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” blared
through the speakers, and I turned if off so quickly that I feared the knob
might break off in my hand.
“Great pick, Liz,” he said with a
laugh, driving into the parking lot of The Beech Tree School—a private school
for kindergarten through 12th graders that sprawled across a small campus. We
drove past a variety of cars—everything from used Volkswagens, brand new SUVs,
and even the occasional Lexus, BMW, or Mercedes—but Jeremy didn’t turn to find
a parking space. Instead, he pulled up next to the flight of steps leading to
the entrance.
“How about I drop you off here so
you’re not late?” he asked, resting an elbow on the armrest and turning to look
at me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his sunglasses, making it
difficult to tell if he meant it or if he was irritated at me for giving him a
hard time earlier. But the offer was nice.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile
I hoped looked genuine. Maybe he did care that I was upset about his being
late. I grabbed my bag before hopping out of the car, swinging it over my
shoulder and turning around to look at him again. “I’ll see you in French.”
The Jeep squealed against the
pavement as Jeremy turned into the parking lot, and I ran up the steps,
flinging the door open and scurrying through the commons where my friends and I
usually ate lunch. Finally I made it to the main hallway. The light wood door
leading to the European History classroom remained open, and I slid inside, not
wanting to draw any more attention to myself than necessary.
“Just in time, Elizabeth,” said
Mrs. Wilder, turning her head in my direction. Her light grey hair was in a bun
in the back of her head, and she wore a flowing brown skirt with a white button
down blouse. She looked like she’d walked right off the prairie. She nodded for
me to sit down, and I looked around the room to find an empty seat.
I spotted Chelsea sitting at the
far end of the giant U-shaped table, her back facing the large paned windows on
the opposite side of the room. Her straight, dark red hair cascaded over the
edge of the chair, and her jean mini-skirt was paired with a dark purple top
set off by a long golden necklace. She looked like she’d thrown her clothes on
in the morning without a second thought. No one would have guessed that she
didn’t let me get off the phone with her the night before until she’d decided
on the perfect outfit. When I sat down next to her, I knew that my dark jeans
and light blue tank top I’d thrown on that morning looked plain next to her
ensemble.
“Who would have thought that you would almost be late on the first
day of school?” she snickered, keeping her voice to a low whisper.
“It wasn’t my fault,” I replied,
leaning back in the plastic chair. “Jeremy was late picking me up.”
I knew that his being late wasn’t
worth getting angry about, but my relationship with Jeremy was changing—and not
for the best. He was constantly with his new varsity teammates, and while I
knew it was normal for him to want to spend time with them, it hurt whenever he
pushed me to the side. I couldn’t help but hope that he didn’t get elected
co-captain, even though it was an awful thought to have. He’d tried introducing
me to a few of his new friends’ girlfriends, but I couldn’t relate to them
sitting on the bleachers analyzing every play on the field. While I did go to
all of his games, kicking a ball around and barely scoring wasn’t entertaining
in the slightest—at least not to me.
I didn’t realize that I was lost
in my thoughts and hadn’t heard a word Mrs. Wilder said about the beginning of
the school year until the opening of the door brought my mind back into focus.
I looked up in curiosity, wondering who else would risk being late on the first
day.
The moment my eyes met with his,
the other students in the room blurred into the background. My heart felt like
it was pumping at a faster than normal rate, and my lips parted slightly as I
took in the sight of the boy who looked so familiar, even though I couldn’t
remember where we’d met before. His spiky black hair was gelled to make it
appear like he’d just rolled out of bed, although I had an image of what he
would look like if it were a bit longer, with no gel. The midnight blue jeans,
black shirt, and matching leather jacket that he wore seemed impractical in the
summer heat, but I couldn’t picture him wearing anything but dark, heavy
clothes.
He yanked his gaze away from mine
and scanned over the other students in the room, breaking the spell between us.
Realizing that I’d been staring at him for longer that socially acceptable, I
turned my attention down to my fingernails and pretended to be interested in
the chipped pink polish. I tried to think of where we could have met before,
but nothing clicked. It was like trying to recall a forgotten dream—each time I
felt close to remembering where we’d met, the memories slipped away.
“You must be Andrew Carmichael,” Mrs. Wilder
stated the familiar name. I looked back up at him, but was still unable to
figure out why I felt like I’d met him before.
He leaned against the door and
crossed his arms over his chest, glancing around the room again. “I go by
Drew,” he said, sounding just as bored as he looked.
Mrs. Wilder ignored his attitude.
“Please take a seat next to Elizabeth,” she suggested, pointing to the chair next
to mine—the last empty seat in the classroom.
Not wanting to be caught staring
at him for a second time, I leaned down to grab a pen from my bag, trying to
ignore the feeling of my blood pulsing faster through my body as he got closer.
I was aware of his every movement, and it was impossible to act unaffected as
he took the seat beside me. Goosebumps sprung up along my arms, and I inhaled
the scent of new leather accompanied by a crisp trace of pine, reminding me of
a campfire on a winter night. I tried taking shorter breaths in an attempt to
ignore his presence beside me, but it didn’t work.
Making sure not to look at Drew
again, I readjusted in the chair, turning to Chelsea to see her reaction to
him. She was looking at him, her eyes glinting with determination as she
twirled a strand of hair around her finger, forming her mouth into what she
probably believed was a seductive pout to try getting his attention. He must
have not noticed, because an annoyed look crossed her face and she redirected
her attention to Mrs. Wilder, who was walking around the room handing out the
syllabus describing what to expect from the course that year.
I focused on the paper in front of
me, shaking my pen back and forth between my index and middle fingers in the
hope that I looked like I was deep in concentration. However, it was impossible
to forget that Drew was sitting so close to me. My eyes kept drifting to the
side, forcing me to see him in my peripheral vision. The pen wasn’t enough of a
distraction, so I dropped it on the table and gathered my hair over my
shoulder, using it as a shield to block him from my line of sight.
Before I knew what was happening,
the pen rolled off the side of the table, landing on the floor between us. I
tried not to look at Drew when I leaned down to pick it up, but I was trying so
hard to not acknowledge his presence that I didn’t realize he had also reached
to get it until the warmth of his fingers brushed against mine. A spark of
electricity shot up my arm, and my breath caught in my chest at the sight of
his dark brown eyes with a ring of golden flecks bordering his pupils. My mind
grew hazy; everyone else disappeared around us, making it feel more like a
dream than real life. I wondered if he felt it too.
The late bell shrieked through the
halls before either of us could say anything, jolting my mind back into
reality. He lifted the pen up and I smiled in thanks, making sure not to brush
against his hand as I took it back. It was tempting to look at him to see if he
felt the same draw towards me that I did towards him, but instead I gathered my
hair over my shoulder again, re-creating the makeshift barrier between us. If I
couldn’t see him, maybe I would forget the strange attraction I felt towards
him.
I also reminded myself that despite
his recent change of attitude, Jeremy was still my boyfriend. Chelsea always
gushed about how perfect Jeremy and I were for each other. My mom loved him,
and she was best friends with his mom. Sometimes I wondered if they were
already planning the wedding. Still, it took a concentrated effort to not look
at Drew again—so much so that it felt like my struggle to keep my eyes focused
on the front of the room must have been obvious to everyone else in the
class.
The bell signaled the end of first
period, and the only thing I could think about was getting out of the room so I
could gather my thoughts. The best thing to do would be to get Drew out of my
head, but it was impossible when I felt the energy pulsing off his skin, making
me unable to ignore his presence as he gathered his books beside me. My heart
thudded in my chest at a million times per second as I rushed towards the door,
glad when I found myself amidst the bustling students in the hallway going to
their next class.
“Lizzie!” Chelsea called from
behind, making me stop in place. “Wait up!” We were both heading towards the
language wing since I had French next period and she had Spanish, but
apparently I was so caught up in thinking about Drew that I’d forgotten to wait
for her in my dash out of the room. She bounced to my side, clutching her books
to her chest. “So, how hot is Drew?” she asked, her eyes shining with
enthusiasm.
I nodded and managed a small
smile, hoping she would continue talking so I wouldn’t have to reply. I was
still trying to figure out why he seemed so familiar, and the last thing I
wanted was for Chelsea to think I was interested in him.
She leaned in closer and lowered
her voice. “He moved here last week from Manhattan,” she said, glancing around
to make sure no one was listening. “He lives on Lakeside Circle. I heard some
people talking about him before you got here this morning.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
The biggest, most elaborate houses in Manchester were on Lakeside Circle—the
people who lived there were so rich that they didn’t even need to work.
“Why would they move here?” I
asked, wondering why someone would go from Manhattan to Pembrooke. Judging from
Drew’s lack of enthusiasm about being here, I figured there must be a story
behind the move.
“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes
wide with excitement. “But I’m going to find out.”
“You do that.” I laughed, doing my
best to pretend not to care, despite the fact that I hadn’t stopped thinking
about Drew since leaving the classroom. “But we have to get to class. Meet you
in the cafeteria for lunch?”
She smirked and stopped in front
of the Spanish room. “Sounds good,” she said, glancing at something in the
distance before looking back over at me. “I’ll let you know what I discover.”
Giveaway!
Do you want a copy of Remembrance?
Leave a comment with your email and I'll pick a winner by March 28. Winner will have 24 hours to respond or I'll pick another winner.
~Liss~
Disconnect by Imran Siddiq
