Thursday, May 30, 2013

New York, New York.

 Well, BEA has started, and almost every fun person in the whole wide world IS IN MY CITY RIGHT NOW AS I TYPE THESE WORDS.
And the chances of me seeing any of them are quite small, because I'm not going.

Enough whining.

But, coincidentally, that would be what today's Thursday's Children post is- New York.
I'm a born and bred New Yorker- born in LIJ, lived in the 718 since the day I was born, which, to a lot of people, seems like some sort of foreign concept.

"OMG, you're actually FROM NY?.... Can I touch you?"

Uh, no, that's creepy.

But today I won't be rambling about my childhood in NYC (another time, though, for real)- today is a combination of two of my favoritest things!

Old pictures & New York City.

Are there words to describe the amount of love I have for old pictures? No. No, there are not.
My grandmother, God bless her, has hundreds and hundreds of pictures in her house- not just the embarrassing pictures from when I was a kid and from when my mom was a kid, but pictures of her grandparents. Her basement is a magical wonderland of family history, and every time I'm there, there is at least one afternoon that's dedicated to pulling out a random box of pictures and going through them.

Photography is an incredible medium- one to express yourself and one for inspiration, especially for writers.

Pictures from New York City, dating back to the 1800s.
They are a magical treasure trove of awesome.

Coney Island. Not much has changed. picture via

Now, this has led me to doing some research about the neighborhood I grew up in. I was aware of a lot of the history of the neighborhood- where I lived was part of a park for the incredibly wealthy people who lived nearby. The highway at the edge of the neighborhood was once part of a golf course. This dates back to the mid 1800's. Before then, it was part of a large farm.

I currently have around 17 SNIs, so God knows the last thing I need right now is another idea.
Especially one that requires copious amounts of research.
But I find my self control slipping, especially since it's where I grew up.

So we shall see if I end up adding a historical fiction to my list of SNIs. I'm going to go with perhaps.

WHAT WE LEARN FROM HERE: Pretty much anything will trigger an SNI for me. This is slightly dangerous.

Question for you: What is one (weird) historical fact about the neighborhood you grew up in?
Tell me tell me tell me!
And now, I'll go see if I can find any bizarre facts about my neighborhood. Ghosts, criminals and other fun things would be nice.

Happy Thursday!

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Tuesday, May 28, 2013

REVIEW: Under The Dusty Sky By Allie Brenan

SUMMARY: (via Amazon) Sixteen-year-old Graceland Holloway doesn’t believe in perfect love, or love at all thanks to her mother. But she does believe in perfect memories.

And she gets them.

The perfect first crush, the perfect recital, the perfect summer with her best friend, the perfect first kiss…

When her oldest brother leaves the Holloway farm, Gracie meets the gorgeous new farm hand, eighteen-year-old Bentley McKinna.

Thinking he’ll be easy, like all boys are, Gracie plans his role in her next perfect memory…

The perfect first time.


Bentley knows it’s all a game he can’t afford to play.

But there’s only so much a guy can take… especially from someone like Gracie.
Whoooooo boy.

This is a complicated one, so bear with me while I attempt to sort out my feelings for this book, okay?
Taking place in Nebraska, Under The Dusty Sky is a story, which, on the surface, is about a girl who’s determined to lose her virginity to the new farmhand, who’s here running away from himself.
Gracie Holloway is nearly sixteen, and is on a quest for the perfect memory. Every perfect memory. So when it comes to losing her virginity, she’s not going to be any different about it. Bentley McKenna is a hired farmhand from LA, and Gracie decides that he’s perfect material for losing her virginity- he’ll be gone soon anyway, and all that will be left is the memory.
Dear God, when I read that, I nearly threw up.
There is something incredibly clinical and heartless sometimes about Gracie. Her almost complete disregard for other people’s feelings, the way that she manipulates anyone and everyone in her path- normally I would hate her. (And trust me, I know people like that. I’m not such a fan)

But honestly?
Mostly, I just felt bad for her.
As much as she’s a manipulating heartless bitch, her humanity pokes itself out every once in a while. And then you realize that her bitchiness is the world’s biggest shield in an attempt to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.
And that’s why I wanted to hug her, and tell her that life is going to happen, messy and wonderful and infinitely complicated, regardless of how much control you think you have over it.

TRUTH: I am not Miss Queen of the Universe from Nebraska. I’ve never stepped foot in Nebraska, actually. Or, to quote myself from this past weekend in a conversation with my baby sister and her friend, “honey, I was never the cool one.” (this encompasses every year of school, ever ever ever.)
While I have been to LA, I am not the daughter (or son, but you knew that already) of anyone rich or famous. (Fact: I am not rich. My parents are not rich. Nor are my grandparents. I can keep going, but I think you get the point.)
Which means in terms of relating to the two main characters, on the surface, it ain’t gonna happen.

But here’s where Allie snuck out of nowhere and BAM! Hit me with the brick of Oh-MY-God-how-does-she-know-I-do-that.
Perfection and Being Real.
While I definitely don’t take things as far as Gracie has in her search of perfection, I understand it. I do.
The quest of perfection is one that I am well acquainted with, as is the control-freak issue.
I understand that fear of the unknown, the spiraling terror of having things slip out of your control. And so no matter how hard I tried, (and trust me, I did) I couldn’t hate Gracie.
Because under her perfect little hair and her scheming little mind, she was nothing more than a mass of nerves and self-doubt.

Oh, Ben, Ben, Ben, Bennnnnnnn.
*flutters* Hi. J
Ben and I have quite the interesting little relationship.
It went something like this.
“Ooh, you sound hot….wait, you’re really going to be bowled over by Miss Scheming Plastic here? Oh, no…. Dude, what are you doing? Do you really want to get tangled into that….Hmmm….SAY NO, BEN. KEEP SAYING NO….What? WHAT? WHAT?.... Fine…..ohhhh, you did good there, boy.”
So I talk to characters when I read sometimes.
So sue me.

Besides liking Ben for being the mostly sane narrator when Gracie was of in Perfectville, Neverland, Ben has moved his way up on my list of Book Dudes I Like for one excellent reason.
His ability to see past the fa├žade of perfect, and to value the real Gracie that was hiding underneath.
Everybody plays mind games with other people, to a certain extent. We all have our personas we slap on in our attempt to be accepted and loved. Which is why loving someone, really loving someone? Means embracing their flaws as much as the good things.

I'm not going to go all SPOILER on you, because that's not very nice, but let me just say, the end is perfect.

Should you read Under The Dusty Sky?

I’m gonna go with yes. You should.
It’s a deceptively thought-provoking book, and I give the ending two thumbs up (mostly because that’s all the thumbs I have).
Technically? The plot flowed, the voices were incredible, and even when I wanted to smack people, I kept reading.
And the cover’s really pretty, because Allie is magical like that.

And there seems to be a sequel in the works, featuring Lacy (Gracie's best friend, who I loves), and Asher, Gracie's brother. I am all colors of intrigued, and am mostly annoyed that I have to wait to read it.
Because I have no patience. :)
Say hi to Allie on alllll the social medias, because she is excellent and wonderful and you should.

SO! Off you go to Amazon to purchase you some book- and then come back so we can pull out the therapy couch for future discussions about the quest of perfection.

Or come back on Thursday, when I blog about something else, topic unknown at this point in time.
Yeah, baby, I lives on the edge.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

How To Write A Book Less Than A Month

WARNING: Do not try this at home.
No, really. I don't recommend trying this.
NOTE: No animals, humans, jars of peanut butter, eardrums, computers, unicorns and various magical creatures, wands, lightsabers, swords, cookies or books have been injured in the writing of said book, or this blog post.
Well, some of the cookies were. Sorry, Alex. 
Important Pre-Requisite: Having the ability to type quickly will be handy for this. (This blog post has not been sponsored by Mavis Beacon and my third grade typing teacher, but they totally could. 75-80wmp, fools.)
First? Have it be the first day of the month, and finish editing the first-ish draft of your last ms. (HOORAY!)  Realize you should probably send it to betas/CPs and of course, freak the heck out. Do the whole, “OMG, NONE OF THIS EVEN MAKES SENSE AND THERE’S NO PLOT WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING, PRETENDING THAT THIS IS EVEN SOMETHING ANYONE SHOULD READ BLAH BLAH BLAH,” and then send it to two people, and resist the urge to throw up when you hit send. (The actual sending will happen a little later in the month, but even the thought of sending it will make you want to hurl)
Now, be in the middle of writing a DIFFERENT one of the 16 SNIs that you have. Have it moving along just wonderfully. Then, out of nowhere, decide to open up a different one of your SNIs- one that currently has a couple thousand words (3000ish), just to see what you wrote.
Read through what you have, and decide to keep writing.
Write and write and write and write and write till all of a sudden, it's been three days and now you're up to around 15,000 words.
Freak out a little bit.
Ask yourself where all the random characters are coming from, as in your mildly vague outline, there was no mention of them, ever.
Also ask yourself where the story is going.
Having no answer is completely acceptable.
Have a playlist of music on your iPod and listen to it on repeat. Remind yourself to add a few songs that are EXACTLY what the playlist needs, and then proceed to never do it. This is a shame, because they really are excellent songs.
Remind yourself to put the rest of your music on your iPod (the old one exploded, and your computer is gone, so finding all that music again is going to take a while), and then not do it, too. Because you’re writing.
Keep writing. Apply for a few jobs, which involves writing cover letters for resumes.
Wail in frustration, because you HATE writing cover letters.
Keep writing. Except for never on Fridays, because there is no way you can get any writing done on Fridays, because Fridays are busy busy busy busy, and involve you partying in the kitchen. Cook. Bake cookies. Bake lots and lots of cookies. Make a five-pound-of-flour batch of challah. 
Keep writing. Do other things like review books, write a few blog posts, and have an existential crisis or two. Bemoan the state of your life, and how everything in your whole life has basically exploded in your face, and wish that you could go hide in North Carolina, which minus the whole money thing, is totally doable. Write more. Be interrupted by things like the end of the semester (which we are not going to talk about *shudder*), another job that's ending, and then oh yeah- Jewish holidays.
Since you aren’t working (siiiiigh), end up doing the grocery shopping for the holiday. And then lots of cooking. Which is fun, because you like cooking. And feeding people.
And stuff.
Clean many chickens, invent various things to do with string beans, taste test your sister’s attempts at a new cheesecake recipe, and peel around twelve million pounds of vegetables.
So all of these things will knock off about a week from your writing time. So don't write for around a little over a week.
Holidays are over, and now one of your good friends is getting married. YAY! Spend the entire day of her wedding running around like a crazy person, and then actually go to her wedding. Dance your face off and have a fabulous time.
So, still don't write again. (So far, you've written around a week and a half) Chronologically, it's been a little over two full weeks.
It's Monday!
Do some writing, but not a lot. Read a whole bunch of books instead.
Tuesday, finish other job, and then decide to go to the college library and write.
Realize that going to write in the college library during finals week is not the greatest of plans. Also, it smells (Fast food, coffee, energy drinks, alcohol, urine and weed. Eau de College Library.). Bump into one of your besties (HOORAY!!!), and help her with her very fascinating research paper, and remind yourself to blog about it.
Think of many topics to blog about. Do not actually blog about them yet, but save them for other occasions. (An editorial calendar would be smart, probably.)
Write some more.
Go to B&N in hopes of writing all the things!
Be there for a LONG time.
Ask yourself who exactly you think you're kidding, because you can't write in public, you get too distracted. Make friends with the bookseller, talk books, and then go home.
Sit on your bed, against the wall, in the same position that you wrote 95% of what you have so far for your fun little WiP. (note to self: do not fix what is not broken) Alternatively bless and curse the fact that there is NO STUPID INTERNET in your house.
Which makes being distracted by fun things (Twitter, everyone else's blog in the universe, YouTube, specifically VlogBrothers and Lizzie Bennett Diaries because I am so behind the times on occasion, Pinterest, Twitter, Humans of New York, the Sartorialist, FoodPornDaily, Twitter, FoodGawker, CraftGawker, Twitter, and whatever else I stumble on in the black hole of internet) not as likely to happen.
Being distracted by people is still fair game.
Write, write, write like a crazy crazy person. Let the question, 'Does this even make any sense?' float somewhere in the dark recesses of your mind.
Ignore this voice.
Keep writing.
Take a break and go out and do some minor end of the semester HALLELUJAH partying with friends, because friends are gainfully employed and can not be out partying till the wee hours. This will come on the weekend.
Come back home.
Write more.
Write, write, write, write.
Suddenly, you’re contemplating an epilogue.
Keep writing.
Stare at the last sentence you just typed.
Gape with shock.
Holy, holy, holy, holy @%&#.
Write the magical words.
The two words, that before this year, you had never ever ever got to.
Write the magical words THE END for the second time this year. The second time, ever.
Freak the heck out, because that is what you’re supposed to do when you write the words THE END. (What? What else are you supposed to do?)
*explodes confetti cannon of celebratory congratulations* 
FINAL: Magical New MS: Draft One.
Officially started Thursday, May 2, 2013.
Finished Wednesday, May 22, 2013.
Word Count: 73,010
Current first word: It.
Current last word: Heard
All the words in the middle: HA. Like I was going to tell you all that now? Funny funny.
*collapses in heap because dudes, I just wrote a heck of a lot of words in twenty days (well, technically less, but whatever)*
*raises head up a little*
In a bit, after I edit the heck out of this, anyone in the mood of CPing a contemporary NA? (You are? YAY! Comment, tweet, or email and let me know.)
We now will return to our regular unscheduled programming.
Rock on, wonderful peoples. Rock the heck on.
PS: I'm over at the super fabulous DiversifYA blog today, talkin' about being an Orthodox Jew. Because, well, I am. :)

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Monday, May 13, 2013

Tackle Hugs Of Awesome (Click To Subscribe by L.M. Augustine)

I only do an occasional book review, a. because if I wrote a book review for every book I read, I would be posting almost daily and as much as I’d love to, ain’t nobody got time for that (and if they do, they aren’t me) and b. because I still have no idea if I know how to write a normal book review (See, every book review I’ve posted here and on Bookalicious). And c. because I can’t rate things. Or grade things.
This is probably why I’m not an English teacher.
I need a rubric for rating things, people!
(Note to self: make rating rubric.)

When I read a book I love so very very much, I lose any sense of boundaries when it comes to telling people to read it. Like, you don’t even have to ask me for a book recommendation, you don’t have to like reading that genre, darn it, you don’t even have to READ, and I will still tell you about the book.

Honestly, I don’t recommend books often, because I never know what other people like reading.

And then sometimes, the book is so excellent, that I don’t care. (Like every book written by Cathy Lamb. Go. Right Now. And then come back and finish reading this.)

I have just added another book to that list.

EMOTIONAL BACKSTORY: (Because there always is one. Always.)

My life, to put it mildly, has been quite the emotional rollercoaster recently. The past two weeks? Lordy Lordy Lordy. Without going into too much detail (this is not free therapy, y’all), every single part of my life has kind of exploded in my face, like some really sucky and poorly timed fireworks.
But I’m healthy and not homeless, so thank God. (Perspective, perspective, perspective.)
Life has been interesting.
Thursday was not such a pleasant day for all sorts of super excellent (read: not) reasons. Really, there have been better days.

I had purchased the lovely L.M. Augustine’s book, Click To Subscribe earlier in the week, but had been busy busy busy and had not yet had a chance to read it. So on my way home from school, I pulled out the iPad and started to read.

Stop right now (sorry for all the stoppings. Actually? No, not really sorry), and go make your way over to Amazon and purchase yourself a copy, if you have yet to do so.

If I could turn the book into a teddy bear of awesome, I would. I would snuggle it at night and pinch it’s adorable cheeks and post so many cheesy pictures of it on Facebook, people would start getting nervous.
That is how much I loved it.

To describe Click to Subscribe in four words? Tackle-hug of awesome.

1,135,789. That’s how many subscribers sixteen-year-old West Ryder has on his web vlog series. But he only has eyes for one of them.

As one of the internet’s most prestigious video bloggers, West talks about high school relationships under the name “Sam Green.” As far as he knows, no one from school, not even his best friend, Cat, has seen his videos. But the highlight of the whole thing is Harper Knight, who comments every day at exactly 2:02 in the afternoon. He doesn’t know anything about her aside from the occasional deep philosophical messaging on why pizza tastes so delicious, but as stupid as it sounds, he might be falling for her. So when they finally agree to meet in real life, West’s hope for romance seems more and more in reach. But that all changes as soon as he arrives at their meeting spot and sees Cat walking toward him, wearing the same “I <3 Sam Green” T-shirt Harper promised she'd have on.

To his alarm, West realizes he is falling in love with the best friend who has always been a sister to him.

This book?
Best mood booster ever.

The characters were hilariously real and weird- goofy and awkward and wonderfully adorkable. Though there were times where I wanted to smack West for being such a stupid BOY, I understood why he was. And then I just wanted to hug him. His relationship with his father was interesting, and not as fully fleshed out as I thought it would be, especially for the history they have.
The girl kicks some serious butt. Telling a guy (and not only a guy, but your best friend) that you love him, and dealing with the fact that he completely freaks out? She has been added to the fictional-characters-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up list.
This was not a story of insta-luuuuuurve, which made me wonderfully happy, as I'm not really a fan. It was a light, wonderful read. Kind of like ice cream, minus the brain freeze. Except for ice cream has never made me giggle-snort on the subway.

-Note: Nobody gave me the book for free- I bought it, read it, and loved it. And IMHO? You should also.

And now I want some ice cream.


Go bother L.M. all over the social medias.

Because he’s a fun one, and has mad circle drawing skillz, yo.

And, oh yeah, BUY THE BOOK.

And that is all for now!

I’m heading back to my writing cave, because this WiP is FLYING, peoples. And then some Jewish holidays (Shavuot) Tuesday night to Thursday night, so I’ll be back next week with other entertaining things and book reviews and sunshine and happiness and all kinds of stuff like that.


*boogies to writing cave*

Sayonara, chicitas y chicitos!

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

NA Mythbusting Part Two: College=Drunken Partying

Welcome back to myth-busting, the New Adult version. (Sorry it's been a while.) Today's episode will take us away from red rooms of pain and pairs of shredded underwear, and creepy kinds of sex toys.
Blah. I need to scrub myself with steel wool.
Anyway, this week's topic is on cleaner grounds.
Now, college is a topic so large, so complex, that it will take more than one week to talk about.
(For all of you who are protesting about only one week of sex, we will revisit the topic, I promise. That was just introductory.)

And so.
MYTH/STEREOTYPE 2: Everyone between 18-24 goes off to college and parties like the world is ending tomorrow.

Whooo boy.
This week, in everyone goes to college myth busting, we will be discussing the 'partying like the world is ending'.
When playing word association with the word college, you get all sorts of different visions of college. I partially blame this on every movie ever that involved college students.

Fact: College is not necessarily a synonym for four years of drunken partying. There are people (actual, real, live people) for whom college does not involve any drinking at all.

Confession: I didn't go away to college. I didn't live on a college campus. I don't have to start quoting studies to tell you that my experience in college was a bit different (and my college 'experience' is a conversation for another week).

So please. Correct me if I'm wrong. For the population of people who do go away to college, it seems suspicious that there is never really mention of any college related activities in NA novels, besides the mentioning of frats and sororities on occasion. The way it sounds is that college is like high school, except for there is no prom (not that I had one in high school) and everyone lives on a campus.

As for the rampant partying and complete lack of doing anything at all?
Let's do some basic math here, k?
To graduate with a bachelor's degree, you need to take 120 credits. This takes on average four years to accomplish, with two semesters a year (not counting the shorter winter and summer semesters). Which means that each semester a person takes fifteen credits, which is around five classes. (And five classes a semester is not very common- usually a person takes four.) Each class runs three hours total per week, not counting any homework assigned for the class, nor any time to study for tests. That alone (now using twelve credits a semester, which seems to be more of the norm) means that not including any time but time actually spent in the classroom, academic life takes up thirty six hours a week.

Now, let's say, you are extremely lucky and don't need to work at all in college. That doesn't mean that the rest of your week is spent scampering around, frittering your time away. True, it's a definite possibility, and it is kind of popular, but any college student who is serious about getting not only an education, but the means to get a good job will be trying to find ways to pad their resume.
Interning in your field of interest is pretty common. And internships and volunteering take up time, as well. Most volunteering positions demand a minimum of ten hours a week for volunteering.
Being studious in college, being career-oriented means that free time is not as rampant as it seems in NA books.
That's not to say that there aren't college parties, and people don't go out with friends, and a general lovely time is not had, but perhaps not on the level that the media makes it out to be.

For  all everyone's talk of partying their way through undergrad, if they're telling you that while sitting in graduate school, they worked in undergrad. Chances are, they didn't sleep very much. They may have had a super fabulous time in college, but that's not to say they never did any work.

So! With that being said, let's discuss! Realistically, how many hours do/did you spend academically in college? And how much does it suck to sit through class with a hangover? And does it make me a total loserpants for never going to class with a hangover (because that would necessitate me getting drunk which has not happened ever)? It does? Oh well.
Big L on the forehead and such.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Review: The Forgotten Ones by Laura Howard

SUMMARY (via Amazon):
Allison O'Malley's plan is to go to grad school so she can get a good job and take care of her schizophrenic mother. She has carefully closed herself off from everything else, including a relationship with Ethan, who she's been in love with for as long as she can remember.

What is definitely not part of the plan is the return of her long-lost father, who claims he can bring Allison's mother back from the dark place her mind has gone. Allison doesn't trust her father, so why would she believe his stories about a long forgotten Irish people, the Tuatha de Danaan? But truths have a way of revealing themselves. Secrets will eventually surface. And Allison must learn to set aside her plan and work with her father if there is even a small chance it could restore her mother's sanity.

Okay, here's the deal. I've mentioned this before, I think. I'm not the world's biggest fan of paranormal, and in general I don't read too much of it. But I am forever open minded, especially when a cover looks that pretty. (Yes, I judge my books by their covers. I admit this openly.) And also, I love Laura. A lot. But will endeavor to remain as unbiased as possible for the review.
Shall we do a re-enactment of what happened when I got The Forgotten Ones?
Yes. Yes we shall.
Laura: Here, KK. Have an eARC.
Me: *shrieks with happiness* *then realizes I have a boatload of homework and no time to read* Nooooooo!!!! *shakes fists heavenward*
Laura: Why are you screaming?
Me: Because I want to read it NOW!!! And I can't!
Laura: Pfft. You should read it now.
(Yes, Laura is the world's biggest book enabler. She is the reason I have no money, and it is all spent on books.)
Me: *sobs*
I'm on the way home from college, and the train is delayed in the station.
*flips open iPad and promptly begins to read*
*does not stop till the very, very, very last page* (this is around the time I get off the subway. It's not that the train takes that long, I read REALLY quickly)
What did I think of The Forgotten Ones?
I really, truly, enjoyed it.
The main character, Allison, is really not in the world's greatest of positions. She's watched her mom suffer from schizophrenia for years, and is determined to be able to take care of her after the years they've spent with her grandparents. She's had to deal with a lot more than someone else her age, which you can see when she talks to her cousin. And if it wasn't for Laura's writing, and the way that you really understood her need to do that, I would have wanted to smack Allison for not actually going out with Ethan.
....okay, I'm still a little frustrated. ARGH. There wasn't so much backstory of the little Allison-Ethan romance situation, and hopefully it will be in the second one. But Ethan seems like a really nice dude, and seems to have a lot of patience for Allison and the whole mom situation (Psych grad student in me is very pleased by this. Although psych grad student in me would also be happier with more effective communication on Allison's part. And yes. This does happen with every romantic relationship I read about. I also talk back to books sometimes when I'm reading them. This proves to be entertaining for innocent bystanders).
When Allison starts seeing things and her dad all of a sudden shows up, looking pretty similar to the way he did in pictures from twenty-odd years ago... her fears of going crazy and her fierce protectiveness over her mom leap off the page, and have you glaring suspiciously at her dad, too.
The characters were well rounded and great, and the secondary characters were fabulous. The plot moved nice and smoothly- especially once the story moves into Tir Na n'Og, magical Irish fairyland (calling it this may make me sound like a philistine. I apologize if my plebian, not well versed in Irish mythology behavior offends you). The story kind of feels like it should be some Wizard of Oz movie type- black and white at the beginning, and then BAM! color once the fun fairy people show up. And the fun fairy people are indeed fun- but please God, don't ask me to try to pronounce their names, because the chances of me butchering such fabulous Irish (*sigh of happiness*) names is quite high. Some serious emotional backstory going on with all of the Tuatha de Danaan, too, which I sincerely hope continues in book two.
The book was a great combination of adventure, fantasy and romance- all the romance :)
(Although not enough of Allison and Ethan. *longsuffering sigh*)
I got sucked in to The Forgotten Ones- so much so that I was on the NYC subway during rush hour and could not be distracted at all. That I forgot I was on the subway until I had to get off the train, and then I was all sad about not being in Tir Na n'Og, watching Allison kick butt from my lovely spot on the grass.
I should get better grass to sit on.
And perhaps a few fairies, too.

When I started reading The Forgotten Ones, I didn't realize it was the first of a trilogy. Which probably makes me a bad friend, and a bit of a ditz. Although on the copy I got, it didn't say Book One. So I'm going to pretend that that's an excuse.
But not really.
So what happens? I get to the last page, and think that a certain someone who shall remain nameless has sent me a bad copy.
Like, with pages missing.
Because (SPOILER HERE!!) hello. That cliffhanger nearly made me cry.
I'm really, really bad at waiting for things, guys.
Like sequels.
*glares at Laura and taps foot impatiently*

Should you read The Forgotten Ones?
Why, yes. I think that would be a super fabulous idea. Because then we can discuss the fact that we all want to be friends with fun fairy people (not the evil fairy people, someone else can be friends with them), and we can all clear our throats impatiently around Laura to wait for book two to come out.
*Starts playing Jeopardy music now*