Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Blog Tour ~ "Airel" by Aaron Patterson and Chris White




AirelAirel by Aaron Patterson & Chris White
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Source: Received to Review
Genre:  YA Paranormal

Book Description:  Airel: The Awakening is a young adult paranormal romance about the angel Kreios who falls so deeply in love with a woman that he chooses to fall from heaven to be with her. She gives birth to a daughter in Arabia, 1250BC. The girl is pursued ferociously, relentlessly by an enemy in the deepest darkness.   In present day, Boise, Idaho is just a girl: Airel. She's just your average high school student...who turns out to be anything but average. It's because of who she is, because of her ancestry, because of her lineage. Past and present collide as what has been twisted comes dangerously unraveled.


My thoughts:  Airel would technically be classified as a YA book because one of the main characters is seventeen years old. But, there is another story going on unfolding in the pages of this book about Kreios. This is more of an adult story. I would say that this is a book that can be enjoyed by all ages.

Airel is a young woman who's life begins to change when a really cute boy moves into the school and her body begins to undergo changes that are abnormal. Then to top off everything she witnesses a murder and then she is stalked by the killer. She begins to fall into the obsessive love pattern that we see in so many YA novels and learn about who she is and her role in the universe at the same time.

Kreios is a fallen angel. His story is told about his fall and the woman he loved. The child that they had and then the war to stop the evil from spreading and killing the rest of the fallen angels and his daughter.

Somewhere in the middle the two stories merge and the destinies of Kreios and Airel collide and become one. Airel learns what the true meaning of love is, and to be able to truly love she must be whole and healthy emotionally.

I found the beginning of Airel's story to be predictable. I was pleased that the author's turned the story around. Definitely worth taking the time to read this story.



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Read an Excerpt
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I WOKE UP THE next morning with the never-ending headache and dried tears on my face. I couldn’t remember much about what had happened after I’d come home yesterday. I had a vague recollection of Kim putting me to bed and Mom coming in at some point with a worried look on her face.
I did remember parts of a nightmare. There was a black figure—a horrible, cloaked presence trailing black tar coming after me. I had to admit that scared the crap out of me. Dreams could be weird sometimes, that much I knew from experience, but I’d never had any that were quite so vividly terrifying.
Lying in bed, processing, I tried to wriggle out from the remains of yesterday. It had wrapped me up in a cocoon of thoughts and a tangle of blankets. I finally realized that I had swapped ends in the night; my head was at the foot of my bed and my feet were on my pillow. Whoa, I must have slept rough—rougher than usual, anyway. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up on my elbows and looked at the clock. Wonder of all wonders, it was still early and I had time before school. I struggled out of bed—backwards—and trudged to the bathroom. Guess bad dreams have good points to them. At least I have time for a decent start to my day. Maybe today will be better.
Inevitably, I thought about him—the boy who I felt knew me. Michael Alexander fluttered into and around my thoughts, and I started to blush again. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me. Why do I react like this to him? It was really weird, because I could see his face just as clearly as if he was standing right in front of me. Normally I couldn’t do that with guys I liked. Come on, Airel. Get a hold of yourself. You haven’t said two words to him, and you like him already? What a moron. 
I turned the shower to super-hot and waited for the warmth to kick in. I looked in the mirror and noticed that the normal dark circles under my eyes were surprisingly faint this morning. I would have thought that after a day and night like I’d just had, I’d look like the corpse bride. 
I flashed my fake smile into the mirror, and that made me smile for real. I didn’t really think I was “all that,” but I knew I had a few good things going for me. I felt like I looked really good today, and I had just rolled out of bed. That made me smile even more.
After a long, hot shower, I pulled on my blue jeans and my favorite T-shirt—the one with Bob Marley on it. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I always had to do that after a shower—otherwise, it would get frizzy and curl like no one’s business, turning into a puffball or a fro.
I headed downstairs, not having to sprint for once. Our house was like most, with several bedrooms, a family room, and a big kitchen. The upstairs was where my room was, plus my parents’ room and two spare rooms: one for guests, one for Kim. She stayed the night at least three times a week. Most of the time she just slept on the floor in my room, even though Mom had set her up with her own, and we would end up talking all night. So her room was mostly just a landing place for all her junk. 
I put two strawberry Pop-Tarts in the toaster, noticing for the first time that it was raining outside. Great. One last day of sunshine yesterday and I was sick for most of it. I made a mental note to grab a light jacket before I left the house. I felt fine today, I noticed. Other than the bad dream, I felt good. I looked good, and I knew it. I wanted to get out and do something after school, but figured it was too cold and rainy.
I nibbled my Pop-Tarts, which tasted good all the way down to my painfully empty stomach. I really hoped I’d be able to keep it down today. Michael’s face presented itself in my memory. I tried to banish him from my mind. I had to squash any thought of him—I didn’t need or want that kind of drama in my life right now.
I grabbed my jacket and started for the door, trying not to wake my mom. She never slept in and today was her day off, so I knew she would want to. She was like most moms. Protective and maybe a bit overbearing, but she meant well and I knew it. She worked at a flower shop. Not that she had to, but she liked to keep busy. 
Since I was an only child and in school most of the day, she would climb the walls all alone if she didn’t do something, so Dad had told her to go find something she would enjoy. She found a little shop called Just Flowers and started working there years ago. I teased her constantly about being so old-fashioned—such a stereotypical housewife, working at a flower shop—but she loved all things plants. If it was nice out, she could be found without exception in the yard, planting, digging, or pulling weeds. We had the nicest yard in the neighborhood. 
As for Dad, well, I wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but he was gone a lot. He was a sales rep for some company or other—it didn’t matter much to me. He was a quiet guy and didn’t bring his job home. He got bonuses sometimes, which we always used to go on family vacations. Those times were the happiest for me, when we were all together.
Last summer was the best. Dad took us all to Disney World, and I even got to bring Kim along. Her mom was cool with stuff like that. Kim’s dad left when she was young, so she was basically part of our family. 
The rain was really coming down, so I ran to my car, hoping to dodge the raindrops. I opened the driver’s door to my Honda and got in. Before I could turn the key, I felt a horrendous, debilitating pain dragging razor blades up and down my arms and legs, deep inside me. “Owww,” I shrieked before I could stop myself. But then, just as fast as it had come, it was gone, and I was left sitting there in its wake, hyperventilating and wondering what was wrong with me.

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About the Authors

   Aaron Patterson is a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of over a dozen novels. He writes hard-boiled thrillers and young adult fantasy. He was home-schooled and grew up in the west. Aaron loved to read as a small child and would often be found behind a book, reading one to three a day on average. This love drove him to want to write, but he never thought he had the talent. He wrote Sweet Dreams, the first book in the WJA series, in 2008. Airel is his first teen series, and plans for more are in the works. He lives in Boise, Idaho with his family.

Chris White is an award-winning author and editor, and is co-author of the Airel Saga with Aaron Patterson. Chris also writes psychological thrillers under the nom de plume Jet Deaver, and has penned some short stories as C.P. White. He blogs occasionally about writing and the journey of the Christian artist at C.P. White Media Blog and lives in Idaho with his family.

  Praise for the Book “This is not your typical fallen angel story. It is one that has left me breathlessly waiting for the next one in the series.” --Sandra Stiles, Amazon review  
 “A beautifully written and crafted fiction about teenage innocence, faith, loss and love. A must read for teens and adults alike." --Vincent Zandri, International Bestselling Author of The Remains, The Innocent, and Concrete Pearl  
 “This was such a unique twist to the common way angels are portrayed…. The struggle between good and evil is the forefront of this great story!” – Courtney, Amazon review


  Blog Tour Giveaway $25 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash Ends 6/16/19 Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.  a Rafflecopter giveaway

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