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June 06, 2017

#FirstPage with @peggysmartinez & @CleanTeenPub

 
Time Warper: Fated by Peggy Martinez  has to be in my top 5 favorite books!! I own this book in like 3 different copies. I love this series and I NEED her to finish it! We were left on a cliffhanger. 

Time Warper: Fated (A Sage Hannigan Novel #1)
Eighteen-year-old Sage Hannigan wants to get back to her own time, preferably one that hasn't been destroyed by an underworld plot brewing in Edwardian-era South Carolina. How hard can it be? 

All she has to do is: 

1. Learn to use newly acquired warping skills to bend time to her will. 
2. Take out a few rogue vampires. 
3. Join an ancient secret society. 
4. Figure out who is putting the time stream in jeopardy. 
5. Find and maim whoever invented the corset. 

Sage never asked to be chosen by the Druid Priestess, Amerach, to become a Warper, and she never asked to have the future hanging on her shoulders or to warp a hundred years into the past. She certainly never asked to meet Dr. Aldwin Blake, who would make her question her desire to get back to her own time. But if she fails her mission, people will die, history will change, and the present she wishes to return to will be no more.





Peggy Martinez
Peggy Martinez is a full time Author who has over a dozen published works, including the Time Warper Series, State of Decay & Ruin, the Contradiction Series, the Reapers Grimm Series, her middle grade Super Zero Series, and various novellas and serials. 

When not writing, Peggy can be found homeschooling her teen son and four daughters. You may also find her packaging hundreds of boxes for her monthly box subscription business she founded just for readers! (Lit-Cube) She could also be spotted reading, making soap, dabbling in aromatherapy, watching gangster movies, prepping for the zombie apocalypse, or downing insane amounts of Twizzlers and Kazoozles. Oh yeah... and day dreaming about owning a small homestead or taking a dream vacation to Greece, Scotland, & Ireland. She could totally be doing that. 



















MINTON’S USED BOOKSTORE WAS NEW, and from the street, I could tell it was just my kind of place. A low glow came from the inside, casting light on the shelves and shelves of used books, random antique paintings, and knickknacks. As I pushed through the door, a small bell chimed above me—a real bell, not one of those digital ones most stores have now. I inhaled deeply, pulling in the faint scent of old paper and spices through my nostrils. Nothing could beat the smell of old books.
  
“Can I help you?” The voice came from a headless cashier sitting behind the counter, his face buried in a Star Wars novel. 
 “Umm, no thank you, I’m just going to browse a bit,” I said to the cover of the book. 
“Cool. Let me know if you need anything,” the guy behind the counter called after me. 
 I’d already moved down an aisle, lost in a booklover’s euphoria. I quickly realized the used bookstore was a genuine treasure trove of old books—not just used ones, but also books that were decades old, some of them even older. I came across a particularly beautiful copy of Jane Eyre, and after a long inner debate, I left it on the shelf with a soft sigh. I did have several copies of it, after all, not to mention the three different DVD versions of the movie I’d also collected. 
 I walked back to the front of the store and headed toward the only glass case in the shop. There were several lovely pieces—some in gaudy art deco, some more delicate and closer to my taste—but nothing that I couldn’t live without. I was just about to turn and head for the door when something in the far corner of the case caught my eye.  
A gray stone pendant, half covered in black satin, claimed my attention. I glanced up and found the cashier still ensconced in his place behind the cash register, totally engrossed in a galactic adventure of epic proportions. I kind of hated to interrupt him.  
“Is there any way I can see something from this case?” I asked into the silence. 
The cashier held up a finger as he finished the paragraph he was reading. When he placed a bookmark in his book and set it down, I was pleased to discover the dude did, in fact, have a head. He reached over, grabbed a set of keys, and moved to stand near the glass case. His black-rimmed glasses were large and should have been dorky, but his blue eyes shone from behind them. Taking into account how well put together his clothing was and the way his hair was meticulously done, I was sure he wore those glasses to complete his look. Nerdy was the new cool. 
 “Which piece did you want to see?” he asked.
 “That one in the corner,” I said, pointing to the pendant. I could feel anticipation building inside of me. I couldn’t wait to hold the beautiful stone in my hand.  
He pulled the pendant out of the cabinet, and I was pleased to see it was attached to a long, silver chain. He set it on top of the counter, and I marveled at how lovely it was. The light gray stone was about the size of a quarter and shaped like a teardrop. An intricate pattern of thin silver wire wrapped around the top of the stone, forming a loop for the chain to hang through. It was beautifully crafted. I reached out and picked it up, running my thumb along its smooth surface. My pulse fluttered wildly, and I could have sworn the stone warmed to my touch. Frowning down at the pendant in my hand for a moment, I set it back down.  The clerk picked the necklace up and opened the back of the cabinet, preparing to put it away. It didn’t feel right; I knew I couldn’t leave without it. I wanted that pendant more than anything. It was meant for me—I was sure of it—even if I didn’t understand it.  
What an odd thing to think.











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