Title: Firebolt
Author: Adrienne Woods
Series: The Dragonian Series
Publisher: Fire Quill Publishing
Release Date: September 19, 2014
Blurb/Synopsis:
Back blurb:
Dragons. Right. Teenage girls don't believe
in fairy tales, and sixteen-year-old Elena Watkins was no different.
Until the night a fairy tale killed her
father.
Now Elena is in a new world, and a new
school. The cutest guy around may be an evil dragon, a prince wants Elena's
heart, and a long dead sorcerer may be waking up to kill her. Oh and the only
way Elena's going to graduate is on the back of a dragon of her own.
Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales.
Now it's time for Elena to believe in...herself.
For the love of blueberries, Elena Watkins
was destined for greatness, even though she didn’t know it. Forced to travel
from home to home every three months Elena’s life was a never ending blur of
new towns and new faces, that is, until the night her father was killed by a
creature she thought only existed in fairy tales – a dragon. With her father’s
death leaving her orphaned, Elena is whisked away to her true birthplace,
Paegeia.
Arriving at Dragonia Academy, the premier
school for young Dragonians, she begins to feel a sense of belonging in this
strange world; a school she was never meant to attend because her father was a
dragon. Elena is soon swept up in the rigor of her new life and the new set of
skills she now needs to survive: Latin, Art of War, and Enchantments.
Entranced by her new reality Elena learns
about the dragons and humans who inhabit her new home. There are two classes of
dragons that soar through Paegeia distinguished by their instinctual pretense
for either good or darkness. The distinction between these two very different
species is vital to Elena’s success in her new world because she has been
marked as a Dragonian, a human preordained to ride and tame a dragon of her
very own.
With the help of her new friends, Elena is
able to navigate the complexities of her new home. Her new roommates Becky and
Sammy are even more amazing then she could have ever imaged and to top it all
off, Sammy was a dragon. Sammy’s is also the devoted sister of Blake, the most
attractive boy at school and the Rubicon; the only dragon of his kind with the
abilities of all the dragon species with a pretense for evil. Elena soon finds
the love she always wanted with Lucian, the Prince of Tith, who actively
pursues Elena throughout her time at Dragonia Academy, winning her heart with
his absolute adoration and unshaken dedication.
Unbeknownst to Elena danger is lurking
behind the enchanted vines concealing the once thriving capital of Paegeia –
Etan. Goran, the darkest sorcerer to ever practice his evil arts in the realm,
has lain dormant for over a century behind the crumbling city. The first step
in his menacing plan is to destroy the only weapon that can kill him – the King
of Lion Sword.
When the sword is stolen Elena doesn’t
think twice about seeking it; knowing deep down that it is her destiny to save
her new home. She travels to the Sacred Cavern, and discovers the nefarious
actions of an unknown man lead to the swords destruction as she follows the
trail revealed in the prophetic waters of the cavern.
Elena and her friends engage the mysterious
man revealing their existence to Goran and fighting for their very lives.
About the Author
So, plenty
of novels to come out, so little time.
XOXOXOXO
Adrienne
Links:
Excerpt
A GIRL SINGING HER heart out about a miracle boomed inside my ear. A
miracle would get me what I needed: a chance at a semi-normal life.
The bedroom door hitting the wall expelled the thought from my mind.
With his hand tangled up in his copper hair, and with huge brown eyes, Dad's
figure filled the entire doorway. “Pack your bags.” He had that set to his jaw,
the one that meant there was no way out of this. He bolted out of the room just
as suddenly as he had appeared.
My teeth ground hard against each other, and the sharp pain behind
my eyes, I guessed from the lack of sleep, grew stronger. Every fiber of my
being wanted to explode.
Ever since I could remember my name, Dad and I had been on the run.
From what? Beats me.
For the last two weeks, I'd been pacing up and down through the
house, struggling to fall asleep at night, waiting for this day.
For the love of
blueberries, no sixteen-year-old should live this way!
I climbed off my bed, and the first step I took left my toe tangled
in the wide leg of my jeans. I tried to regain my balance as the closet inched
closer, but with wildly flailing arms, I came crashing down. The thud
reverberated across the wooden floor, and it sounded as if I'd broken
something.
Dad darted back into my room. “Are you okay?” He lifted me back onto
my feet as if I weighed nothing.
Tears lurked in the corners of my eyes, threatening to burst, as I
stared up at him.
“Don't give me that look, Elena. Please, we need to hurry.” He
pulled my suitcase from the top shelf and chucked it haphazardly onto my bed. “We
need to go. Now.”
“Dad…”
He started to grab my clothes from the shelf and tossed them messily
inside my small suitcase. Then he paused, sighed, and looked up with soft eyes.
He stroked the side of my cheek. “This . . .” He looked past me. “. . . wasn't
the right place, Bear. Please, you’ve got to trust me.”
His hand reached back to pull everything off my shelf, while my
hands curled up into balls of fury. My heart pounded fast as those two words
bounced inside my skull. “Trust you?”
“Elena, we don't have much time,” he yelled. “Pack your bags! You
can ask questions later.” He left, and the hollow thump from his stomping footsteps rang loudly as he made his way
into the hall.
Ask questions? Yeah right!
I’ll only get answers that don’t reveal why we are on the run for the
gazillionth time. “Trust me” and “I'll tell you
when the time is right” were the only two answers Dad gave. Guess the time with him will never be right.
It was no use arguing with him anyway. Once, he threw me over his
shoulder and carried me out without any of my things.
So I grabbed the stuff I needed: my mp3 player, a photo of Mom and
me on my first birthday that Dad didn't know I had, and my journal from
underneath my bed. I tossed them into my backpack. It wasn't much, but it was
the stuff that made my miserable life feel less pathetic. I zipped up my
suitcase and took a deep breath. Looking around my bedroom for the last time, I
said goodbye to my sixtieth-something room.
Dad almost ran me over in the hall, with his army bag slung over his
shoulder. He grumbled, which I assumed was an apology, took my suitcase, and
ran down the stairs. He always rented these huge old houses, pre-furnished and
near the countryside, and we always left after three months.
The pickup's horn honked as I shut the front door. I closed my eyes
and took another deep breath. Just two
more years, then I'll be eighteen and free from this freak show. Huge
raindrops fell hard onto the ground. The smell of wet dirt filled the air. It
was my favorite smell.
The water that pooled on the ground covered all the gaps in the
driveway, forcing me to hopscotch around all of them. My shoe got caught in one
of the gaps and I smacked down hard in a huge puddle. By the time I reached the
truck, my jeans and shoes dripped with water.
Warm heat from the vents inside the truck hit me full blast as I jumped
in; a million goose bumps erupted across my skin. As soon as I shut the rusty door, Dad floored
the gas pedal. Tires screeched and the truck spun away as if the Devil was
chasing us. My lower lip quivered softly
as he swerved onto the road. The streetlights flew by in a blur, and I plugged
in my earphones. The same stupid song about a miracle boomed from my mp3,
drowning the sound of the engine and the hard dribbles on the roof, a
percussion that became the perpetual soundtrack to my misery.
A feeling of utter loneliness consumed my heart while I stared out
the window. Homes with white picket fences and a convenience store whizzed by
in a flash. A tear rolled down my cheek. Saying a silent goodbye, I released my
breath and watched as it created a foggy condensation on the glass. Reaching
out with my index finger, I drew a small heart. These were the reasons why Mom
had left. She couldn't handle his paranoia, but why she’d left her two-year-old
daughter to deal with it was a mystery. Dad constantly reminded me of the
latter; that was the only time he ever spoke of her. If he ever discovered I
had that picture, he would kill me. That was how much he hated her for leaving
us.
The lights of a vehicle in the upcoming lane shone directly into my
face. I shut my eyes, waiting for it to disappear. When I was little, I used to
watch Dad as we drove away from yet another house. He would glare into his
rearview mirror every five seconds, every muscle in his face clenched, and his
knuckles white on the steering wheel. I hadn’t been able to force myself to
peek out the window then, as it used to scare the living crap out of me to
consider the possible reasons why he was fleeing, or who might be following us.
Now, I didn't look at him or care much about what he was going through. He’d
created this problem, with me becoming the luggage. It was a ritual I endured
every three months, and nothing over the past sixteen years had ever changed
that.
The “Interstate 40” sign flew by in a whirl, and the pickup slowly
moved onto the turnoff lane.
My eyes started to burn as I stared at the rain running sideways
against my window. Each rivet resembled another town, another place I could
never again call home. Exhaustion consumed me and my eyelids felt heavy. I laid
my head against the window and struggled to stay awake.
Suddenly, a huge figure flew past me. Dad swerved to the left, which
made me crash into his side. My entire body pumped with adrenaline. I jumped
straight in my seat, tore out my earphones, as I wrenched the seatbelt over my
shoulder to buckle myself in, while trying to process what had just happened.
“What was that?” I looked at Dad.
He kept checking his rearview mirror every five seconds with huge
eyes. Beads of sweat rolled from his hairline down to the side of his temple.
Sure, he was paranoid, but I’d never seen Dad look this scared in my entire
life. This was something more than his usual paranoia.
“Dad!”
“Did you see where it went?” he asked, attempting to inject calm
into his voice, but I could hear the fear lacing each syllable.
“See where what went? Dad, what was that?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“For once in your life, just tell me!” I screamed. Sixteen years of
frustration exploded from my lungs. I couldn't take the unknown anymore.
“Fine.” He mumbled something else that I didn't catch. “Do you remember
the stories I used to tell you?”
“Stories? What stories?”
“The stories about Paegeia, Elena.” He looked in his rearview mirror
again with huge, unblinking eyes.
Vaguely, but I didn't tell him that. “What does that have to do with
this?”
“They're real.”
I froze and stared at him.
“All of it, it’s real. The dragons, the magic, the wall, everything
is real.”
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