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Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Dead Harvest Blog Tour!

Hey all, today we've got Jeanette Bautista hanging out on the blog, so before we get to all the good stuff let's take a look at Dead Harvest!

Someone’s been raising the dead and it’s J’s job to find out who. As a detective operating in the Underworld, J—with her powers of shadow manipulation—is uniquely equipped for the job. What she isn't counting on is the help of an escapee from a mental institution who seems to attract trouble just by existing.

It’s up to J and T—two very unlikely allies—to find the necromancer and bring him before the Underworld Balance Magistrate for judgment before the human world gets wise to the dead walking among them.
So now I have a guest post from Jeanette for you! 
So I was given carte blanche on the subject of this post--which is always a bad idea because my head goes to unexpected places. Jessica mentioned talking about a childhood memory and as I was trying to pick one, I realized that most of mine are either rather disturbing, highly inappropriate, or a combination of the two. I mean, there’s the time my dad shot the Christmas tree with a shotgun (it was leaning to the side so clearly a gunshot would fix it), and there’s the time my grandfather got a bra for Christmas (we were big on gag gifts in my family and Grandpa was rather well endowed). The Huxtables we were most definitely not.
Still, the thing I remember most from my childhood was my rather odd thought process that required me to sleep completely covered when I went to sleep. I was raised on a steady diet of ghost stories and horror movies so I had a pretty overactive imagination. And what that imagination was good for was trying to suss out how to avoid being murdered by the ax wielding maniac that would inevitably find my house one night.
Yeah. That’s right. Completely convinced that I would be murdered in my sleep. Too much Stephen King.
So I came up with a cunning plan (seriously, I was like eight--stop judging me!): I pulled the covers up over my head and I carefully arranged my stuffed bear right next to and slightly above my head. The way I figured, the ax murdered would mistake the bear for my head and when he swung, he would decapitate the bear and not me. I would then be able to make my escape while he tried for a second swing.
I did this every night. It got to the point that I couldn’t sleep without the weight of the comforter covering my head. Even when we lost power and had no AC (I lived in Miami), I still had to have my ax murderer defying comforter and teddy bear.
I still sleep like that to this day. Like I said, I had a kind of strange childhood.

My review of this book will be up soon, I'm still trying to track down the book, but when I get my hands on it you guys will have my thoughts on it!  

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