by Jillian Eaton
Genre: YA Paranormal
Summary from Goodreads:
You might know vampires...but you don't know Lola.
Sixteen-year-old Lola Sanchez is no hero. Snarky, rebellious, and completely fed up with her life, she has one goal: graduate high school and get the hell out of her small hometown. Until a night of terror and bloodshed changes everything...forever.
Now the only thing Lola wants to do is survive. But how can she survive when everything she knows has been destroyed and the one person she thought she could trust ends up being the most dangerous person of all?
Please Note: 'A Night Without Stars' was previously published as a novella entitled 'Pitch' in 2012. It is now a full length novel. All reviews prior to 01/21/14 are for 'Pitch'.
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Excerpt
Excerpt
“You never told me your name, you know.” I tried
to sound flippant, but even to my own ears there was a hoarseness in my voice
that betrayed how perilously close I was to tears. I swallowed the hard lump in
my throat. Crawling around searching for cameras like a deranged lunatic was
one thing. Crying was another.
The boy folded his long, lanky body in half
until we were at the same level and I had no choice but to stare straight into
his eyes. It was like gazing across a stormy sea. You could see the crests of
the waves as they broke out of the water, but the real turmoil was beneath the
frothing surf, hidden from view. “Maximus.” His head canted to the side. “My
name is Maximus.”
“Maximus, huh?” I tried to smile but the skin on
my face wouldn’t stretch. Everything felt tight, from my forehead all the way
down to my toes. The feeling reminded me of a few weeks ago when I’d tried on a
pair jeans that were one size too small. By some miracle I managed to get them
buttoned, only to spend the next ten minutes trying to peel myself out of them.
Needless to say, I didn’t go home with a new pair of jeans.
That’s how I felt now. Like somehow I’d slipped
into a body that was one size too small and my skin had to stretch to fit over
it.
It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
“I’m Lola.” I didn’t offer my last name, and
Maximus didn’t ask for it.
“Sorrows,” he said instead.
I blinked at him in confusion, certain I’d
misheard. “What?”
“That’s what the name Lola means. Sorrows.”
Those stormy gray eyes studied me intently. “Are you sad, Lola?”
It was difficult not to squirm beneath the
intensity of his pensive stare. Most kids in the twelve to nineteen age bracket
were too busy looking at their cell phones to engage in eye contact that lasted
more than a few seconds. Either Maximus didn’t have a cell phone or he just
really, really liked making other people feel uncomfortable.
“I’m not sad,” I scoffed. Except I was. I’d just
become an expert at hiding it. I wore my sarcasm like a shield, using it to
protect the soft, vulnerable side I didn’t want anyone to see. A soft,
vulnerable side that had no place in a world filled with drunken fathers and
bloodthirsty monsters.
I guess this is where I get to tell you all about myself! So here goes. My name is Jillian Eaton, I'm 29, a Leo, huge animal lover, Supernatural fan (Go Team Dean!), and coffee addict. I grew up in Maine and now live in Pennsylvania in a one hundred year old house I bought with my boyfriend a little over a year ago. Together we have three dogs, two horses, and a very fun, crazy, chaotic life.
For as long as I can remember I have loved to read, and as soon as I figured out how to hold a pencil that love of reading turned into a love of writing. I self-published my first historical romance in 2012. Since then I have published thirteen novellas and six novels. While I primarily write historical romance, I've enjoyed dabbling in paranormal young-adult and contemporary women's fiction.
In addition to writing, I teach two riding classes at Delaware Valley University (my alma mater) and train horses at a small private farm that I used to manage before I left to become a full-time writer!
When I'm not working, you'll most likely find me taking my dogs for a walk, fussing over my goofy thoroughbred, looking up house projects on pinterest, binging on Netflix, gardening, or attempting to cook (attempting being the key word).
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