{Guest Post} Chaos @coneilYA

My name is Maggie Raynard. After sixteen years being just plain me, suddenly I can kill people when I lose my temper. Turns out I'm a semi-god, descended from Aphrodite. Sounds cool in theory, but when I accidentally put my ex-boyfriend in a coma, things go downhill pretty fast.

Now some new guy named Mac Finnegan has made it his mission in life to continually piss me off. I'm stuck learning how to use my new powers while also dealing with regular high school problems, and with this---annoying and super-hot---guy all up in my business, I'm about to flip out.

But it gets worse. I just learned there's this council for semis that wants me dead. They think I'm bad to the bone and when my ex suddenly dies, it's like everyone is determined to take me out. Mac might turn out to be my only salvation, but he's got secrets of his own---that may just kill us both.

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Exclusive Excerpt

I was done with guys.

Not in that fake, I-say-that-but-deep-down-I-really-want-a-boyfriend kind of way, but in, like, the seriously-I'd-rather-eat-maggoty-cheese kind of way. No relationships. Not for me. Not now and maybe not ever. Who I am…what I am, and what I’m capable of? Everyone’s better off this way.

"I have to stop at my locker real quick," I said, veering to the right and cutting through the crush of kids heading straight like wildebeests to a watering hole. Libby followed and then stood by me as I fiddled with the lock.

"What's that?" She pointed to a white piece of paper sticking out half an inch from one of the slots in the olive metal door.

I tugged the padlock open and flicked the catch with my thumb. "Dunno." Maybe Bink had left me another note. Bink was my neighbor, bud, and—most days—my ride home. Last time I’d found a note in my locker, it was when his cell phone died and he needed to bail early. I seriously hoped this wasn’t a repeat performance.

I mentally ran down the list of people I could bug for a ride and came up empty. Libby always had to stay after for some activity or another, and I only really had two other people I could call "friends" and neither lived near me. I wrinkled my nose in anticipation of the dirty-sneakers-meets-day-old-bologna smell of a bus filled with kids who'd had last-period gym and opted not to change clothes. 

With a sigh, I pulled open the door and the white rectangle floated to the floor.

Libby bent to grab it and read it out loud. "'Dear Sad and Lonely…'" She trailed off and went quiet 

for a few seconds until her peachy complexion went hot pink, and then she gasped. "Oh my God. 

Holy… Oh, Mags, you are so not going to like this."

I snatched the paper from her, trying to ward off the growing pit in my gut.

Dear Sad and Lonely,

Since I can almost guarantee She is about to give you some seriously shite advice like she does every week, let me be the voice of reason. Your boyfriend is just like most high school guys. Cut him some slack and, even better, why not offer to learn how to play some of the games he likes? He'd probably appreciate the effort and might even take you somewhere nice after. If that doesn't work, sit him down and let him know how you're feeling so he can tell you what's going on with him. Could be that constantly calling the things he likes stupid isn't the best way to get what you want in this situation, yeah? In any case, don't let the ramblings of some bitter emo chick who's probably never had a boyfriend ruin your relationship.

Hope it helps,

He

The shock was too thick to let the anger in right away, but as stunned as I was, I knew exactly who was behind this. There was only one person in the whole school who would use the word “shite.”

Mac Finnegan.

Opinionated, annoying, hot—did I mention annoying?—Mac Finnegan, who had barely given me the time of day since he'd come to Crestwood High a couple months ago. Mac Finnegan, who thought he was soooo cool with his Irish accent and his mocking smile. Mac Finnegan, who inexplicably made me want to lick him like an ice cream cone and then immediately rinse my mouth out with acid.

How had he discovered my secret? Only Bink and Libby knew I was the girl behind “That's What She Said,” and I would have bet everything I owned that neither of them would have ratted me out.

Didn’t matter, though. One way or another, he knew. Even worse, he'd chosen to taunt me with it. Bitter emo chick who’s probably never had a boyfriend, indeed. I had a boyfriend once and it hadn’t ended well for either of us. I was in no rush to repeat the experience. Besides, what did this Irish asshat care?

Anger tightened my chest. I could feel the power rising in me, clawing to get out, roaring to be heard. The hair on my arms stood on end as I tried to breathe through it, to let the fury dissipate and flow out of my pores in harmless pings of energy, but it was no use. I pressed a hand to my locker and opened up the tiniest of escape valves, the spout of the teakettle, whistling off a stream of steam. The cheap metal instantly heated against my skin, the door buckling and warping on the spot just beneath my fingertips.

"Uh, Mags—" Libby whispered urgently, but a male voice cut her off.

"How's it going there, Libby? Maggie."

I turned around, still trying to catch my breath, and there he was, strolling by, a grin splitting his sinfully beautiful face.

Mac Finnegan, who had decided that being the new kid wasn't bad enough, so he had to actively go out of his way to make enemies. Mac Finnegan, who wanted to turn my world upside down rather than minding his own business. Mac Finnegan, who didn't know the meaning of live and let live.

Mac Finnegan, who clearly had no idea who he was fucking with.

 

About Christine:

Christine O’Neil is one half of the happiest couple in the world. She and her handsome hubby currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of teenage boys and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from her duties as maid, chef, chauffeur, or therapist, she can be found reading just about anything she can get her hands on, from Young Adult novels to books on poker theory. She doesn’t like root beer, clowns or bugs (except ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits), but lurrves chocolate, going to the movies, the New York Giants and playing Texas Hold ‘Em. Writing is her passion, but if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a pirate…or, like, a ninja maybe. She loves writing fun and adventure-filled romance stories, but also hopes to one day publish something her dad can read without wanting to dig his eyes out with rusty spoons. Christine loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to get in touch with her via the Contact Page. Christine also writes adult romance under the name Christine Bell.

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Tour Schedule:

Week 1

9/2/2013- Crossroad Reviews- Guest Post

9/3/2013- The Book Belles- Review

9/4/2013- Manga Maniac Cafe- Interview

9/5/2013- A Backwards Story- Guest Post

9/6/2013- Coffee, Books and Me- Interview

Week 2

9/9/2013- Books Are Magic- Review

9/10/2013- K-Books- Guest Post

9/11/2013- Curling Up With A Good Book- Review

9/12/2013- Fantasy Book Addict- Interview

9/13/2013- Ticket to Anywhere          - Review

  

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Guest Post! 

Thanks for having me today to celebrate the release of Chaos! 
I thought I could talk a little about what makes me fall in love with a fictional character. Stick around until the end and tell me what you think, because I’m doing an awesome contest too!

 

So when I think of all the things that make me fall in love with a book, regardless of genre, it’s the characters. If I fall in love with the characters, nothing else matters. I’ll follow them down a mine shaft, or to another planet or to Regency era London, or to a dystopian future. Because I’m invested. I care about them and their story. I think the best authors make us do that through voice. I’m a sucker for humor, but if I really think on it, that’sjust a small piece of it. More important? Things that make them relatable. Do they have a little stutter when they get stressed out? Will they only eat if none of their food touches on the plate? Do they have a weird ritual they do before they leave for school every morning, like jumping off the front step and hitting the wind chimes with their fingertips? People are weird. We do weird stuff all the time. If characters aren’t a little weird too, readers can’t relate.

 

Another thing I think that makes me love a character is if they are vulnerable and flawed in some way. If not, it’s hard toconnect. Readers want to see themselves on the page, and know that their hero or heroine has been through strife, is a wide open nerve for the author to poke and prod. Sounds sadistic, right? But without it, who cares. I mean, that’s the investment, right? Without falling into a crevice due to hiking-hubris, there IS no sawing off of the proverbial arm. And without the sawing off of the proverbial arm, where is the “HELL YEAH!” The fist pump along with that good, juicy feeling payoff of seeing someoneclimb out of that hole, overcoming the odds? Where’s our Rocky or our Big Mike from the Blind Side? In order to celebrate the victory, we have to witness the suffering too, and that requires our protagonist to be vulnerable.

 

This holds true in all stories, but for paranormal tales even more because they need to have both emotional AND physical vulnerability in order for readers to really connect. If they are COMPLETELY immortal, or had no physical “kryptonite” so to speak, the nervous tension of “Will he make it this time?” or “How will she get out of THIS one?” would be gone. Whatwould happen if Spider Man didn’t love Gwen (or Uncle Ben orMary Jane, depending on which version)? What would the super-villains use to manipulate him? What if Superman’s powers weren’t drained by kryptonite? What if the Hulk COULD control his anger? BORing. When I was writing Maggie and Mac for Chaos, I knew that not only had to beflawed, vulnerable and wide open for a world of hurt, they also had to be a that way for each other. Mac is one of the strongest semi-gods in the world, but his care for Maggie makes him vulnerable, and vice versa. Otherwise, the story doesn’t work.

 

I’m weird. And I’m vulnerable. And I’m flawed. So, like, whenever I draw a picture or doodle of something like a snowman, I always draw two so that when I close the notebook, there’s not just the one left there all lonely. Frigging weird, right?  And my kryptonite would be maggots. Show me maggots and I will tell you ANYTHING you want to know. As for flaws, I have a ton. I think my least favorite one is that I love to argue. Seriously, even if I don’t believe what I’m arguing about, I STILL have the intense urge to debate about it. It’s not cute, y’all.

 

So what about you, blog readers? What makes you weird? Flawed? Vulnerable? (Asking that last one for a friend. Not going to use this information to take over the human race one by one and use your planet as a breeding ground my race of super-aliens *shity eyes*).

Posted in: Interview, Young Adult