A big shout
out to Xpresso Book Tours for
making this possible. This is one of my top five favorite novels of 2012. I was
lucky enough to have won one of the first ARC copies of Fang Girl back in May,
and I’ve been raving about the book ever since. Fang Girl is fun, witty, and
completely hilarious. You can read all about it in my review,
or hop on by the my interview
with Helen. But first keep on reading for more Book Blitz fun!
Fang Girl
Publisher: Harper Teen, 2012Genre: YA ParanormalThings That Are Destroying Jane Greene’s Undead Social Life Before It Can Even Begin:
1) A twelve-year-old brother who’s convinced she’s a zombie.
2) Parents who are begging her to turn them into vampires.
3) The pet goldfish she accidentally turns instead.
4) Weird superpowers that let her rip the heads off of every other vampire she meets.(Sounds cool, but it doesn’t win you many friends.)
5) A pyschotic vampire creator who’s using her to carry out a plan for world domination.
And finally:
6) A seriously ripped vampire hunter who either wants to stake her or make out with her. Not sure which.
Being an undead, eternally pasty fifteen-year-old isn’t quite the sexy, brooding, angst-fest Jane always imagined...
~Extract from FANG
GIRL by Helen Keeble~
In which Our Heroine,
Xanthe Jane Greene (unexpectedly undead vampire fangirl), is beset by vampire
hunters. Fortunately, help is close at hand…
“Cease!”
We all jumped, my
attackers whirling round. Someone stood poised on the roof of the parked Range
Rover, silhouetted against the starry sky. In a breathtaking arc, he leaped ten
feet, landing crouched in the middle of the road. He unfurled back to his full height,
his velvet frock coat billowing around him, the moonlight turning his hair to
pure silver. His high-cheekboned, elegant face was set in an expression of icy
determination. As he faced my stunned attackers, his lips drew back in a
contemptuous snarl . . . exposing jagged, sharp-edged teeth.
He was a vampire.
His pale eyes flicked
to me. “Run, ma chérie,” he said. His voice was as light and golden as
honey, with a rich French accent that made the simple phrase sound like an
invitation to unspeakable immoral delights. He dropped into a combat crouch,
empty hands spread. “I shall take care of these—”
And that was as far
as he got, because as my attackers had been conveniently distracted by his
appearance, I punted them fifteen feet down the road.
I hadn’t actually intended
to do so. I’d only hoped to knock them off balance to give my unexpected
rescuer an opening—after all, a dramatic pose was no match for two guns. So I’d
kicked them, with all the strength I could muster.
Which, as it turned
out, was quite a lot of strength.
“Quick!” I yelled as
they skidded away, trailing shocked swear words. I dashed past the suddenly
slack-jawed vampire. “Get them before they escape!” One of my attackers was
already rolling to his feet—without thought, my blood roaring in my veins, I
leaped for him. We crashed back to the ground, him flailing, me desperately
trying to work out some way to subdue him. I grabbed for his hair, yanking
upward with the vague thought of slamming his skull back down against the road—
I’d forgotten my
vampiric strength again.
“AIEEEEEEEEEE!” I
shrieked, reaching a high enough pitch to stun bats. I flung the severed head
away with all my strength. “AIEEEEEEEEE!” I hopped from foot to foot,
overcome with utter squick.
“Shh, hush, it’s all
right!” The other vampire’s hands captured my flailing wrists. “Xanthe!” Lights
were coming on in the nearest house; with a quick look around, he grabbed the
corpse by the back of its collar. “Quick, back here.” He dragged us both into
the shadow of the garage. After a few moments, the lights clicked off again,
leaving us in darkness. I felt the vampire tension in the vampire’s muscles
ease. “Well, that went . . . differently.”
I managed to get
enough of a grip on myself to speak, though my voice came out in a Mickey Mouse
squeak. “Is he dead? Is he dead?”
The vampire looked
down at the headless corpse. “Yes,” he said. “He is very, very dead.” He
cleared his throat. “You must be wondering who I am.”
My legs didn’t want
to support me anymore. I sat down hard. “What . . . what
happened to the other guy?”
“I believe that he
has fled, rather understandably. Now, my name—”
“Oh God, he escaped?”
Even though I didn’t need to breathe, I was starting to hyperventilate. “Is he
coming back?”
“No,” the vampire
said firmly, catching my hands between his own. “Because I will not let him.
I’m here to protect you.”
I looked at him. I
looked down at the corpse. I looked at him.
“Ah . . .”
He appeared mildly embarrassed. “I can also help you dispose of bodies?”
“Okay,” I said, still
feeling a bit shell-shocked. “You sound very useful. Um. Who are you, exactly?”
He let go of my hand
and stood, clearing his throat again. “In life, I was the Comte Ebène
Bellefleur. Now, I am simply Ebène de Sanguine.” He bowed deeply, sweeping back
his long, black frock coat with perfect grace, as though this was his customary
attire. “I would be pleased if you would call me Ebon. I have come to bring you
home.”
The best I could
muster was a heartfelt “huh?” I was lagging about two minutes behind the conversation.
I kept thinking of that horrible crunch through my hands.
“I must deeply
apologize from the bottom of my soul that it has taken so long for us to send
one of the Blood to welcome you,” Ebon said, somehow managing to enunciate the
capitalization. “I must confess that we were unprepared for your
Transfiguration”—once again I could hear the capitals clanging into place—“but
I can assure you that you will be a treasured jewel among us. Now, ma chérie,
we must make haste.” His face turned serious, and he held out a long,
white-fingered hand. “This place is not safe. As you have discovered, the
hunters are closing in. I will protect you with my very life, but I cannot hold
this place secure for long. You must come.”
I struggled to get my
brain to concentrate. “Come . . . with you? Where?”
“To your true home,”
he said—and suddenly his face was only inches from mine. I froze, transfixed by
the pale blue of his eyes, as clear and cool as the light at the heart of a
glacier. “Come, Xanthe,” he murmured, shaping the hated sound of my name into
something beautiful and wild. “I long to teach you. To show you who you are,
and the power you will become. It is time for you to learn everything.”
I stared at him, and
he didn’t become any less real. There was an actual gorgeous vampire aristocrat
in velvet on his knees in front of me, vowing to lay down his life in my
defense. All I had to do was take his hand.
“Okay,” I whispered,
my throat dry. “First let’s hide this body somewhere, and
then . . .”
“And then?” he
whispered back, his breath cool on my lips. His pale eyes gazed into mine,
wordlessly promising to whisk me away from all my troubles.
Or, to put it another
way, a very strange man with predator’s teeth wanted to get me alone.
“And then,” I said
firmly, taking his hand, “you’re coming home to meet my parents.”
Helen Keeble is not, and never has been, a vampire. She has however been a teenager. She grew up partly in America and partly in England, which has left her with an unidentifiable accent and a fondness for peanut butter crackers washed down with a nice cup of tea. She now lives in West Sussex, England, with her husband, daughter, two cats, and a variable number of fish. To the best of her knowledge, none of the fish are undead.Her first novel, a YA vampire comedy called FANG GIRL, is out 11th Sept 2012, from HarperTeen.She also has another YA paranormal comedy novel (provisionally titled NO ANGEL) scheduled for Sept 2013.
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