Thursday, February 9, 2017

The Ceruleans Anniversary

Today I’m excited to be a part of the Ceruleans Anniversary party! This February it’s been two years since author Charlotte Wilson began publishing the Ceruleans series (previously published under the pen name Megan Tayte), a series I really loved!
Join the fun today and read the guest post Charlotte wrote and the amazing Giveaway!

Death Wish (The Ceruleans #1):

Seventeen-year-old Scarlett Blake is haunted by death. Her sister has made the ultimate dramatic exit: run away from school, join a surfing fraternity, drown in a tragic ‘accident’.

Following in her sister’s footsteps, Scarlett comes to an isolated English cove to uncover the truth. And, as it turns out, to fall in love with the place and its people, especially a certain blue-eyed surfer with a serious case of the heroics.

But as Scarlett’s quest for the truth unravels, so too does her grip on reality as she’s always known it. Because there’s something strange going on in this little cove. A dead magpie circles the skies. A dead deer watches from the undergrowth. Hands glow with light. Power.

What transpires is a summer of discovery: of what it means to conquer fear, to fall in love, to choose life, to choose death.

To believe the impossible.

(Check out my review here.)

Forget Me Not (The Ceruleans #2):

Death is stalking Scarlett Blake. As if the encroaching darkness in her head wasn’t enough, she’s become disturbingly accident prone. Falling off a cliff isn’t ideal when all you want is as much time as possible to live the life you love.

But the clock is ticking, louder with every heartbeat, and now Scarlett must decide how best to protect the people she loves.

Will she trust in Jude and the life-after-death he promises? Will she stand against the Fallen, who have her sister captive? Will she carry the burden of her death alone – every headache, every hallucination, every harrowing emotion?

And when the clock falls silent, will Scarlett fight for life? Or will she surrender to the one who’s determined to kill her?

(Check out my review here.)

Wild Blue Yonder (The Ceruleans #3):
When Scarlett Blake chose to Become a Cerulean, she expected to grieve for all she left behind. But at least Cerulea, her heaven, would be… well, heavenly. Right?

Wrong. The world in which Scarlett awakens is picturesque, sure, and serene. But there can be no paradise within the unforgiving walls of a prison, be they of cold, hard stone or beautifully blue water.

Now Scarlett faces her hardest decision yet: be a good, dutiful Cerulean, or be true to herself and fight for freedom.

And if she can find a way to escape, what then? Can she save her sister from the murderous Fallen? Can she evade her destiny with the Ceruleans? Can she ever reclaim her life-before-death… or must she let go of all she loves?

(Check out my review here.)

Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans #4): CLOUDS ARE GATHERING, AND THEY WILL RAIN BLOOD.

Scarlett is living her happy-ever-after, back in the real world. Only the ‘happy’ part is proving problematic.

For starters, there’s the isolation. Being a Cerulean among humans is fraught with risk, so time with those she loves can only be fleeting.

Then there’s her power over life and death. Less awesome talent, as it turns out, and more overwhelming responsibility – and it comes with rules that are increasingly difficult to obey.

But what’s really pushing Scarlett to the precipice is something much bigger than her life in the cove. A force to be reckoned with: blood.

When long-buried truths are exposed, will Scarlett keep her head above water – or will she drown in the blood-dimmed tide that is unleashed?

(Check out my review here.)

Darkly, Deeply, Beautifully (The Ceruleans #5):

With her mother’s life hanging in the balance, Scarlett is devastated – and done with being in the dark. She wants answers, all of them.

But when was her pursuit of the truth ever straightforward?

Pulling a single thread impels a great unravelling. And each revelation will force Scarlett to rethink what she thought she knew about the Ceruleans, the Fallen, her family – herself.

All that came before was a mere prelude to this, the final journey – to where it all began and it all must end. But in the final reckoning, none will survive unscathed. And some will not survive at all.

In this explosive conclusion to The Ceruleans series, all must be defined by their actions: sinner, saint… or something more beautiful entirely?

(Check out my review here.)

Buy Links:

The Ceruleans series is available at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble and iTunes.

Guest Post:

One night to write: the biscuit-crumbed reality of a writing retreat

A few years ago, when I’d just started writing my Ceruleans series, a new hotel opened near my home. Big. Light. Spacious. Stunning design. Green spaces all around. A lounge with shelves of books. A bar serving up a decent coffee for a couple of pounds. In short: a writer’s heaven – fabulous, but entirely out of reach. Or was it?

A quick (illicit) hotel-booking website peek uncovered an immensely exciting fact: because the hotel was new, it was quiet, and to fill empty rooms it was offering some at a staggering discount. Some husband-convincing later, I was booked in for the Sunday night. To write intently, away from distractions, from check-in at two p.m. through to checkout at eleven. Heaven, surely. Well, yes. But also a little more challenging than I’d envisioned.

The distractions

The clock’s ticking on this writing time. But oh, look! A king-size bed with freshly laundered sheets all to myself. A massive bath that fills in two minutes and a long row of miniature toiletries to examine. A tray of little sachets of tea and coffee and biscuits, all of which must be sampled. A vast amount of carpet to dance across without standing on a single piece of Lego or sticklebrick. A flatscreen with a hundred channels. A free magazine. Room service.

The beginning (finally)

Abruptly, I remember why I’m here. Standing at the window and dreamily munching a biscuit while watching squirrels frolic in the trees is swiftly abandoned for dragging the table to the window, sitting down and typing. And typing. And typing. Such is the focus that the hotel room recedes, and when I finally come back to reality, I’m disorientated – where the heck am I? But there’s no time for coming to, because I need to make:

The first phone call home

To my son, to say goodnight and promise to 1) to save the free biscuits for him (uh-oh) and 2) let him jump on the bed when he comes with his dad to pick me up tomorrow.

The second phone call home

Five minutes later, once my son’s in bed, to tell my husband the hotel hideaway initiative is going brilliantly (while not admitting I just had a little cry from exhaustion and missing my son, my husband, my house – everything outside this room).

The decamp to the bar

Where I engage in a lengthy game of musical chairs in the hunt for a laptop-charging power-point, a table at the right height, a chair in the light, a chair in the shadows, an escape from an inebriated couple sniping at each other. Sometime later the bartender dims the lights to alert me to the fact that the bar is closed. Oh, and apparently empty except for the two of us. I take a moment to wipe a smear off my laptop (that’s the last time I eat nachos while writing) and swig back the dregs of my umpteenth Diet Coke. Then I stagger back to my room and execute:

The collapse

Into the big, empty bed. Where I soon realise I can’t sleep because it’s so big and it’s so empty, and I’m wired on Diet Coke, and Mr and Mrs Inebriated are in the next-door room and have taken their row up a level.

The morning after

I awake in a panic – only five hours to go! I’m forming sentences before my feet hit the carpet, and I’m at the desk and typing before I’ve fully opened my eyes. Somewhere around ten the sound of vacuum cleaners in the hallway outside registers. Quick shower. Clothes. Stuff thrown into bag. Back to desk. Type, woman, type!

The end

A text message at ten to eleven warns of the imminent arrival of my husband and son. I stop typing. The room is very, very quiet. And there appears to be a lot of biscuit crumbs around. Tentatively, I move the mouse and hit the button I’ve been avoiding all this time: word count. Twelve thousand. Oh. More than I thought. But are any of those words keepers?

I won’t decide that when, moments later, I’m kangarooing about the bed with my little boy. Or as we check out and I sweet-talk the receptionist into a large stack of free biscuits. But sometime during the week, when I’ve had enough time to start missing the hotel, I’ll open the file and read.

And then I’ll go and tell my husband the good news: free biscuits all round again this weekend. And the next?

About the Author:

Once upon a time a little girl told her grandmother that when she grew up she wanted to be a writer. Or a lollipop lady. Or a fairy princess. ‘Write, Charlotte,’ her grandmother advised. So that’s what she did.

Thirty-odd years later, Charlotte is a professional writer. For authors and publishers, she writes and edits books as The Book Specialist. For herself, she writes soulful, coming-of-age romance for young adults.

Charlotte grew up in the Royal County, a hop, skip and a (very long) jump from Windsor Castle, but these days she makes her home in a village of Greater Manchester with her husband and two children. When she’s not reading or writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, baking up a storm, or embarking on a DIY project. She recently achieved a lifetime ambition of creating a library in her home to house her ever-increasing collection of books. She pretends not to notice that the shelves are rather wonky.

For more information about Charlotte Wilson please visit her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Goodreads.

The Giveaway:


  1. Loved the guest post. It made me laugh. I'm actually impressed by how much writing she did get done. I'm afraid the big empty clean bed would have been just too tempting for me.

    1. LOL!! I think for me too!
      This is really a great series. I hope you get to read it sometime. ;)


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