{"id":214,"date":"2016-09-08T00:34:00","date_gmt":"2016-09-08T00:34:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/writingya.com\/?p=214"},"modified":"2018-11-20T05:44:20","modified_gmt":"2018-11-20T05:44:20","slug":"pssst-its-out-this-week","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/writingya.com\/?p=214","title":{"rendered":"Pssst! It’s out this week!!!"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n<\/div>\n
\nLabyrinth Lost<\/b><\/div>\n
\nBy Zoraida C\u00f3rdova<\/b><\/div>\n
\nSeptember 6, 2016; Hardcover, ISBN 9781492620945<\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nPraise for Labyrinth Lost<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cThis work is a magical journey from start to finish… A compelling must-have for teens<\/b>\u201d<\/div>\n
\n\u2013School Library Journal<\/i>, STARRED review<\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201c<\/b>C\u00f3rdova\u2019s (the Vicious Deep series) magic-infused, delightfully dark story<\/b> introduces readers to an engrossing, Latin American\u2013inspired fantasy setting and an irresistible heroine\u201d <\/div>\n
\n\u2013Publishers Weekly<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cA brilliant brown-girl-in-Brooklyn update <\/b>on Alice in Wonderland and Dante\u2019s Inferno<\/i>. Very creepy, very magical, very necessary.\u201d<\/b><\/div>\n
\n\u2014Daniel Jos\u00e9 Older, New York Times <\/i>bestselling author of Shadowshaper<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cLabyrinth Lost<\/i> is more <\/b>like reading Paradise Found. <\/b>Zoraida C\u00f3rdova brings us a new generation of witches, enchanting and complex. And every page is filled with magic<\/b>.\u201d <\/div>\n
\n\u2014Danielle Page, New York Times <\/i>bestselling author of Dorothy Must Die<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nC\u00f3rdova\u2019s world will leave you breathless, and her magic will ignite an envy so green you\u2019ll wish you were born a bruja. Delightfully dark and enchanting<\/b>. An un-putdownable book.\u201d  <\/div>\n
\n-Dhonielle Clayton, author of The Belles<\/i> and Shiny Broken Pieces<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cC\u00f3rdova\u2019s rich exploration of Latin American culture<\/b>, her healthy portrayal of bisexuality and her unique voice allow this novel to stand out among its many peers.\u201d <\/div>\n
\n\u2013RT Book Reviews<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cCordova draws inspiration from Ecuadorian, Spanish, African, Mexican, and Caribbean folklore and mythology to craft a page-turning tale<\/b> about a young bruja <\/i>unsure of her place in the world.\u201d<\/div>\n
\n\u2013<\/b>Bustle.com<\/i><\/b><\/a><\/div>\n
\n <\/i><\/b>\u201cC\u00f3rdova pulls elements from Greek mythology and Spanish and Latin American legends to craft a memorable world in Los Lagos<\/b>,
\n a supernatural realm that is as fascinating as it is threatening. The
\nhistory and customs of Alex\u2019s family\u2019s type of witchery are also
\ncarefully constructed, giving readers a complete world to sink into with
\n satisfaction and wonder.\u201d<\/b><\/div>\n
\n-Bulletin of the Center for Children\u2019s Books<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n\u201cThis succeeds with its lush use of Latin American mythologies<\/b>, an unexpected love story, and, above all, in Alex\u2019s complicated relationship with her family. Alex is a necessary heroine<\/b>, and this dark fantasy nicely\u201d<\/div>\n
\n-Booklist<\/i><\/b><\/div>\n

Finding Wonderland concludes, <\/a><\/i><\/b>“A lovely addition to the YA canon, this darkly powerful adventure reveals a diversity of Latin American culture and magical realism which will have readers wishing to connect strongly with the bruja within themselves, and straighten out the maze of their own lives.”<\/div>\n

\n
\n

Nothing says Happy Birthday like summoning the spirits of your dead relatives.<\/i><\/h3>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nAlex is a bruja,<\/i>
\n the most powerful witch in a generation\u2026and she hates magic. At her
\nDeathday celebration, Alex performs a spell to rid herself of her power.
\n But it backfires. Her whole family vanishes into thin air, leaving her
\nalone with Nova, a brujo boy she can\u2019t trust. A boy whose intentions are
\n as dark as the strange marks on his skin.<\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nThe
\n only way to get her family back is to travel with Nova to Los Lagos, a
\nland in-between, as dark as Limbo and as strange as Wonderland\u2026<\/div>\n
\n<\/p>\n
\nIt’s on Goodreads!<\/a><\/b><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

\nBuy Links:<\/b><\/div>\n
\nhttp:\/\/books.sourcebooks.com\/labyrinth-lost\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nBook Trailer Link:<\/b><\/div>\n
\nhttps:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=3_DBTALS6bI<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nLabyrinth Lost Coloring Page:<\/b><\/div>\n
\nhttp:\/\/www.sourcebooks.com\/images\/LabyrinthLost-ColoringPage.pdf<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nAbout the Author:<\/b><\/div>\n
\nZoraida C\u00f3rdova was born in Ecuador and raised in Queens, New York. She is the author of the <\/i>Vicious
\n Deep trilogy, the On the Verge series, and the Brooklyn Brujas series.
\nShe loves black coffee, snark, and still believes in magic. Send her a
\ntweet @Zlikeinzorro or visit her at zoraidacordova.com<\/a><\/u>.<\/div>\n
\nSocial Media Links:<\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nAuthor Website: http:\/\/www.zoraidacordova.com\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nLabyrinth Lost Website: http:\/\/books.sourcebooks.com\/labyrinth-lost\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nFacebook: https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/CordovaBooks<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nTwitter:  @zlikeinzorro<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nInstagram: https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/wanderwheel\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nAuthor Tumblr: http:\/\/wanderlands.tumblr.com\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nLabyrinth Lost Tumblr: http:\/\/labyrinthlostbooks.tumblr.com\/<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\nYouTube: https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/user\/ZoraidaLand<\/a> <\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n1<\/div>\n
\nFollow our voices, sister.<\/i><\/div>\n
\nTell us the secret of your death.<\/i><\/div>\n
\n\u2014-Resurrection Canto,
Book of Cantos<\/div>\n
\n\n\n\n
\n
\nT<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n
\nhe second time I saw my dead aunt Rosaria, she was dancing.<\/div>\n
\nEarlier
\n that day, my mom had warned me, pressing a long, red fingernail on the
\ntip of my nose, \u201cAlejandra, don\u2019t go downstairs when the Circle
\narrives.\u201d<\/div>\n
\nBut
\n I was seven and asked too many questions. Every Sunday, cars piled up
\nin our driveway, down the street, and around the corner of our old,
\nnarrow house in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Mom\u2019s Circle usually brought
\ncellophane–wrapped dishes and jars of dirt and tubs of brackish water
\nthat made the Hudson River look clean. This time, they carried something
\n more.<\/div>\n
\nWhen
\n my sisters started snoring, I threw off my covers and crept down the
\nstairs. The floorboards were uneven and creaky, but I was good at not
\nbeing seen. Fuzzy, yellow streetlight shone through our attic window and
\n followed me down every flight until I reached the basement.<\/div>\n
\nA
\n soft hum made its way through the thin walls. I remember thinking I
\nshould listen to my mom\u2019s warning and go back upstairs. But our house
\nhad been restless all week, and Lula, Rose, and I were shoved into the
\nattic, out of the way while the grown–ups prepared the funeral. I
\nwanted out. I wanted to see.<\/div>\n
\nThe
\n night was moonless and cold one week after the Witch\u2019s New Year, when
\nAunt Rosaria died of a sickness that made her skin yellow like
\nhundred–year–old paper and her nails turn black as coal. We tried to
\nmake her beautiful again. My sisters and I spent all day weaving good
\nluck charms from peonies, corn husks, and string\u2014-one loop over, under,
\ntwo loops over, under. Not even the morticians, the Magos de Muerte,
\ncould fix her once–lovely face.<\/div>\n
\nAunt
\n Rosaria was dead. I was there when we mourned her. I was there when we
\nburied her. Then, I watched my father and two others shoulder a dirty
\ncloth bundle into the house, and I knew I couldn\u2019t stay in bed, no
\nmatter what my mother said.<\/div>\n
\nSo I opened the basement door.<\/div>\n
\nRed
\n light bathed the steep stairs. I leaned my head toward the light,
\ntoward the beating sound of drums and sharp plucks of fat, nylon guitar
\nstrings.<\/div>\n
\nA
\n soft mew followed by whiskers against my arm made my heart jump to the
\nback of my rib cage. I bit my tongue to stop the scream. It was just my
\ncat, Miluna. She stared at me with her white, glowing eyes and hissed a
\nwarning, as if telling me to turn back. But Aunt Rosaria was my
\ngodmother, my family, my friend. And I wanted to see her again.<\/div>\n
\n\u201cSh!\u201d I brushed the cat\u2019s head back.<\/div>\n
\nMiluna nudged my leg, then ran away as the singing started.<\/div>\n
\nI
\n took my first step down, into the warm, red light. Raspy voices called
\nout to our gods, the Deos, asking for blessings beyond the veil of our
\nworlds. Their melody pulled me step by step until I was crouched at the
\nbottom of the landing.<\/div>\n
\nThey were dancing.<\/div>\n
\nBrujas
\n and brujos were dressed in mourning white, their faces painted in the
\naspects of the dead, white clay and black coal to trace the bones. They
\ndanced in two circles\u2014-the outer ring going clockwise, the inner
\ncounterclockwise\u2014hands clasped tight, voices vibrating to the pulsing
\ndrums.<\/div>\n
\nAnd in the middle was Aunt Rosaria.<\/div>\n
\nHer
\n body jerked upward. Her black hair pooled in the air like she was
\nsuspended in water. There was still dirt on her skin. The white skirt we
\n buried her in billowed around her slender legs. Black smoke slithered
\nout of her open mouth. It weaved in and out of the circle\u2014-one loop
\nover, under, two loops over, under. It tugged Aunt Rosaria higher and
\nhigher, matching the rhythm of the canto.<\/div>\n
\nThen,
\n the black smoke perked up and changed its target. It could smell me. I
\ntried to backpedal, but the tiles were slick, and I slid toward the
\ncircle. My head smacked the tiles. Pain splintered my skull, and a
\nbroken scream lodged in my throat.<\/div>\n
\nThe
\n music stopped. Heavy, tired breaths filled the silence of the pulsing
\nred dark. The enchantment was broken. Aunt Rosaria\u2019s reanimated corpse
\nturned to me. Her body purged black smoke, lowering her back to the
\nground. Her ankles cracked where the bone was brittle, but still she
\ntook a step. Her dead eyes gaped at me. Her wrinkled mouth growled my
\nname: Alejandra<\/i>.<\/div>\n
\nShe
\n took another step. Her ankle turned and broke at the joint, sending her
\n flying forward. She landed on top of me. The rot of her skin filled my
\nnose, and grave dirt fell into my eyes.<\/div>\n
\nTongues clucked against crooked teeth. The voices of the circle hissed, \u201cWhat\u2019s the girl doing out of bed?\u201d<\/div>\n
\nThere was the scent of extinguished candles and melting wax. Decay and perfume oil smothered me until they pulled the body away.<\/div>\n
\nMy
\n mother jerked me up by the ear, pulling me up two flights of stairs
\nuntil I was back in my bed, the scream stuck in my throat like a stone.<\/div>\n
\n\u201cNever<\/i>,\u201d she said. \u201cYou hear me, Alejandra? Never break a Circle.\u201d<\/div>\n
\nI lay still. So still that after a while, she brushed my hair, thinking I had fallen asleep.<\/div>\n
\nI wasn\u2019t. How could I ever sleep again? Blood and rot and smoke and whispers filled my head.<\/div>\n
\n\u201cOne day you\u2019ll learn,\u201d she whispered.<\/div>\n
\nThen
\n she went back down the street–lit stairs, down into the warm red light
\n and to Aunt Rosaria\u2019s body. My mother clapped her hands, drums beat,
\nstrings plucked, and she said, \u201cAgain.\u201d<\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nRafflecopter Giveaway Link for 2 Copies of Labyrinth Lost with Signed Labyrinth Lost Bookmarks<\/b><\/div>\n
\n<\/div>\n
\nRuns September 6-September 19 (US & Canada only)<\/b><\/div>\n

a Rafflecopter giveaway<\/a><\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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