May
Today I’m super excited to have author Megan Tayte on the
Sunday’s Author Spotlight. Megan is the author of the amazing Cerulean series.
This series will be a five book series. The first two books ‘Death Wish’ and ‘Forget
Me Not’ are already available and the third book ‘Wild Blue Yonder’ will be
published today!! The Cerulean series is a Young Adult Romance with a
Paranormal edge.
About ‘Death Wish’ (Cerulean #1):
power over life and death. Five books: one question: if the might of the
heavens were in your hands, would you be sinner or saint?
Seventeen-year-old Scarlett Blake is haunted by death. Her estranged sister has
made the ultimate dramatic exit. Running away from school, joining a surfing
fraternity, partying hard: that sounds like Sienna. But suicide? It makes
no sense.
Following in her sister’s footsteps, Scarlett comes to the isolated cove of
Twycombe, Devon, with grand plans to uncover the truth. Alone. But she hasn’t
reckoned on meeting two boys who are determined to help her. Luke: the blue-eyed
surfer who’ll see the real Scarlett, who’ll challenge her, who’ll save her. And
Jude: the elusive drifter with a knack for turning up whenever Scarlett’s in
need.
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. Warmtt. 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.
This book is available at Amazon US and Amazon UK. To read my review please go here.
About ‘Forget Me Not’ (Cerulean #2):
IN THE FACE OF DEATH, SHE MUST PROTECT THOSE SHE LOVES.
power over life and death. Five books; one question: if the might of the
heavens were in your hands, would you be sinner or saint?
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, to love.
Her fate is horrifying. Unbearable. And inescapable. No one can save Scarlett
from The End that’s looming. Not Jude, the Cerulean who is intent on Claiming
her. Not Luke, the boy who is intent on loving her.
The clock is ticking, louder with every heartbeat. 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 wrenching, aching emotion?
And when the clock falls silent, when the darkness eclipses the light, will
Scarlett fight for life? Or will she have no choice but to surrender?
This book is available at Amazon US and Amazon UK. To read my review please go here.
About ‘Wild Blue Yonder’ (Ceruleans #3):
IN A WARPED HEAVEN, SHE MUST CHOOSE HER FATE: OBEDIENCEOR REBELLION
When Scarlett Blake chose life-after-death as a Cerulean,
she expected to grieve for all she left behind: her boyfriend, her best friend,
her mother, her home. But at least Cerulea, her heaven, would be… well,
heavenly. Right?
Wrong.
The world in which Scarlett awakens is very far from her idea of a
utopia. 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 finally reunite
with her lost sister? Can she save Sienna from the murderous Fallen? Can she
evade her destiny with the Ceruleans?
Can Scarlett Blake ever reclaim her life-before-death… or must she let
go of all she loves?
Excerpt ‘Death Wish’:
Waves everywhere, swirling, surging, seething – a raging
melange of foam and salt and inky water biting at me, pulling at me, thrusting
upon me a solitary invitation:
Death.
that seemed more bucking bronco than wave rider, I thought: That’s how easy it is – you just let go. Just release the grip on this world that in recent
months had seemed so much an effort, and sink into the blue, beneath the waves,
where chaos and fury turned to quiet and calm. Like she did.
to die – peaceful? How would it feel to give up all the dragging myself through
the day, all the struggle to evade the aching void inside? A relief?
breathtaking power. Its force stirred me. You could say a lot of things about
Scarlett Blake – she’s a loner, she’s a wallflower, she’s a menace in the
kitchen – but no way was ‘she’s a quitter’ on the list of character flaws.
would be out in this tumultuous sea at six a.m. on a summer’s morning? Solitude
was the entire point of hauling myself out of bed in the still-dark and picking
my way down the cliff path to the beach just in time to see the horizon light
up with the first burnt-orange glow of the rising sun. No one to see me make a
damn fool of myself on my first surfing attempt.
while lying stomach-to-board. On an upward surge I got a glimpse of the
Devonshire cliffs that fringed the cove, all dark, jutting rocks topped by
bushes of gorse, and then a flash of the beach. On a downward plummet there was
nothing but eye-burning, throat-choking seawater.
the anger. Something raw.
Someone on a surfboard, paddling it expertly seaward. I took one hand off the
board to push sticky tendrils of hair from my eyes. Rookie mistake. Turned out
holding on one-handed was impossible. The board shot upwards, out of my feeble
grip, and then it was just me and Old Man Sea.
surface, but the waves were burying me, one after the other, only a second or
two to come up for air before the next one hit. Far away now were thoughts of
letting go – I was fighting furiously for life. Never in my seventeen years had
I been so desperate. But my legs were tingling with effort, and I knew it was
just a matter of time.
name on my lips I inhaled a lungful of water and I sank…
of my t-shirt and hauled me upward. Coughing and spluttering, I emerged from
the blue and was pulled roughly onto a board, my leg shoved over so that I
straddled it. I had the fleeting thought that this board was much sleeker and
more substantial looking than the one I’d just lost before my rescuer settled
pretty much on top of me and started paddling toward the shore.
other side with apparent ease, though I seemed unable to match the rhythm of
our motion and kept taking in great gulps of brine. Over the sound of the waves
and the wind and the splash of powerful arms cutting into the water to propel
us along, I picked out low, irate grumblings.
total waste of… all we need… another bloody drama…’
the board and pulled me off to walk to the beach. But my legs didn’t seem
willing to respond to basic instructions like ‘walk’ or even ‘stand’ and
breathing between wrenching gasps had become a challenge, so he threw an arm
around me and half-carried, half-walked me, dragging his board with his spare
hand.
out.’
retching cough, and the cool air I gulped in burned my throat. I fought the
panic, I fought the pain, focusing instead on the shells and stones strewn
around. Finally, breathing won out.
look a mess – long hair plastered to my head rat-tail style, face flushed and
salt-burned, eyes teary and bloodshot. And then there was the fact that this
guy, whoever he was, had just saved my life, and was evidently pretty mad about
having had to do so.
black neoprene; hands reaching out, palms raised; a wide, muscular chest; a
striking face – rugged, square jaw, full lips, ruddy cheeks, Grecian nose
bearing a thin scar across the bridge, thick black lashes framing eyes… oh, his
eyes.
his gaze. All at once I was home in the cottage, tucked up beneath the blue
patchwork quilt of my childhood; I was watching my grandmother remove
vanilla-scented fairy cakes from her powder-blue Aga; I was running through a
meadow of sky-blue forget-me-nots with my sister – free, exhilarated, happy.
The memories took my breath away. I felt the familiar burn in my tear ducts.
trembling knee.
were speaking to an elderly lady having a turn at a bus stop.
Th-thank you.’
clearly no idea what you’re doing, children’s play surfboard… you got a death
wish or something?’
it was me-sized – at five foot three, what use was some enormous board?
was so rough out there.’
Piece of cake for someone who actually knows how to surf…’
traitorously down my cheek. Furrowed his brow, combed his fingers roughly
through dark hair that was drying fast in the breeze.
the vulnerability.
smoothed out and his lips curved. Like this, smiling and relaxed, his scrutiny
was a touch less unsettling. ‘And you are…?’
better things to do, so I’ll just be…’
instinctively rose with me, and my water-fogged mind registered belatedly that
my rescuer was a giant of a guy – my head was at the level of his chest. As I
looked up to take in his stature I staggered slightly and he reached out to
right me, but I stepped backwards. I didn’t need his kindness.
me. ‘Hey, will you be okay?’
puzzled, and then interest sparked in his eyes. ‘You mean the Blake place?’
grandparents’ ramshackle cottage on the western cliff was the only building up
there.
but Luke was not to be deterred.
further step back. I saw the cogs turning in his mind as he took in the classic
green Blake eyes and then compared her –
short, spiky red hair, eternally crimson lips, tall and impossibly slender –
with me – petite and curvy, hair more blond than auburn reaching to the base of
my spine and a pallor worthy of a vampire. His eyes widened.
Quest Post by Megan Tayte:
Finding My Voice.
childhood, I was pretty much mute. I didn’t talk unless I absolutely had to.
Why? Because I had lost my voice – not literally, but emotionally. It took me
some time to find my voice again, and to use it with confidence, knowing that
it was mine to claim and it was worthy of being heard.
in words said aloud; it was words on a page that held all the power and magic
for me. So even when my spoken voice grew in strength, to the point that I
could stand up in front of an audience of hundreds and speak, my search for
voice was not over. I had what Tennyson described: ‘the quiet sense of
something lost’. Somewhere inside there was yet a mute suffering in silence.
and wrote. I made writing my day job. I wrote articles, I wrote marketing copy,
I wrote stories, I wrote chapters, I wrote books. I wrote and ghostwrote for
many different clients, in many different voices. None, though, were my own. And
whenever I tried, in my own time, to write something for myself, that authentic
Megan voice was elusive. I wrote stuff I knew was decent enough, but I felt
nothing for it – it wasn’t mine. So I gave up writing for me for a time, and
just wrote for others.
at night, distracted me during the day. For months and months I walked around
in a kind of fog, wondering what to do with the jumble of images and places and
people and moments swirling about inside. It was exhaustion, I think, that
drove me to sit down with a blank Word document in the end. That, and a whole
wave of emotions brought on by early pregnancy (and one too many mochaccinos,
which I crave when pregnant – heck, who am I kidding? I crave them always). I
had no expectations. I wasn’t even thinking about ‘properly’ writing. I just
wanted to get some of the story world out of my head and onto a page, so I
could go back to lying on the sofa and moaning through morning sickness.
hours by candlelight one dark and cold evening. The room, after I typed the
last word, was silent. I read the chapter back. I read it again. The room was
still silent. But the voice… the voice was not.
ridiculed, criticised, silenced again. It took several weeks for it to
consistently show up at designated writing sessions, and several months for it to
establish itself as the dominant voice. But now, when I write there’s no choice
to make, no invitation to extend: I write naturally in my own voice. Now, there
is no quiet sense of something lost, but a jubilant sense of something found.
than bearing an untold story inside you.’ To tell that story, to relieve
that agony, you have to find your voice, and then use it. Loudly. Proudly.
Praise for Megan Tayte:
novel; I devoured it!
pull-you-in sort of supernatural story with great characters and a fun
storyline, give ‘Death Wish’ a read.
extremely well written with just the right amount of mystery and intrigue. The
characters are realistic and the relationships prove to be profound for
everyone. Romantic and sad all at the same time! This book left me wanting more
and I cannot wait to read book two.
about ‘Death Wish’
definitely able to write very addicting books, but she’s still able to keep a
lot of mystery left for the reader. The only thing I really can say is:
Bravo!!!
About the Author:
when she grew up she wanted to be a writer. Or a lollipop lady. Or a fairy
princess fireman. ‘Write, Megan,’ her grandmother advised. So that’s what she
did.
Thirty-odd years later, Megan writes the kinds of books she loves to read:
young-adult paranormal romance fiction. Young adult, because it’s the time of
life that most embodies freedom and discovery and first love. Paranormal,
because she’s always believed that there are more things in heaven and on earth
than are dreamt of in our philosophy. And romance, because she’s a misty-eyed
dreamer who lives for those ‘life is so breathtakingly beautiful’ moments.
Megan 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 Robin Hood’s county,
Nottingham. She lives with her husband, a proud Scot who occasionally kicks
back in a kilt; her son, a budding artist with the soul of a paleontologist;
and her baby daughter, a keen pan-and-spoon drummer who sings in her sleep. When
she’s not writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, reading by the
fire, or creating carnage in the kitchen as she pursues her impossible dream:
of baking something edible.
series please visit her website, Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.
Thank you for visiting Maureen’s Books!
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Maureen is a mom, wife, nurse, and Ravenclaw living in the Netherlands. She spends her days juggling mom-life, reading, blogging, planning date nights with her husband and working as a nurse. Maureen also is a big Anglophile, loves cooking, Gilmore Girls, Bridgerton and Harry Potter.. Always! Facebook | Instagram
