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
“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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