Kelley Armstrong’s New Series: Omens + Giveaways & Excerpt

2 Aug

Giveaways
1) win a hardcover of Omens
2) win a paperback of Four Summoner’s Tales
3) win an ARC* of Brazen To enter, e-mail contest@kelleyarmstrong. com and tell us which contest you want to enter.
If you wish to enter more than one contest, please send a separate e-mail for each. All three contests close August 31 and are open to anyone, anywhere.
* ARC = advance reader copy

Release date: August 20th, 2013.

#1 New York Times bestselling author Kelley Armstrong begins her new series with Omens, featuring a compelling new heroine thrust into a decades-old murder case and the dark mysteries surrounding her strange new home.

Twenty-four-year-old Olivia Taylor Jones has the perfect life. The only daughter of a wealthy, prominent Chicago family, she has an Ivy League education, pursues volunteerism and philanthropy, and is engaged to a handsome young tech firm CEO with political ambitions.

But Olivia’s world is shattered when she learns that she’s adopted. Her real parents? Todd and Pamela Larsen, notorious serial killers serving a life sentence. When the news brings a maelstrom of unwanted publicity to her adopted family and fiancé, Olivia decides to find out the truth about the Larsens.

Olivia ends up in the small town of Cainsville, Illinois, an old and cloistered community that takes a particular interest in both Olivia and her efforts to uncover her birth parents’ past.

Aided by her mother’s former lawyer, Gabriel Walsh, Olivia focuses on the Larsens’ last crime, the one her birth mother swears will prove their innocence. But as she and Gabriel start investigating the case, Olivia finds herself drawing on abilities that have remained hidden since her childhood, gifts that make her both a valuable addition to Cainsville and deeply vulnerable to unknown enemies. Because there are darker secrets behind her new home and powers lurking in the shadows that have their own plans for her.

Excerpt from Omens
Stirring Up Trouble:

As I walked into the diner, the first people I saw were the elderly couple from the day before. Ida and Walter. Ida moved over in the booth. “Come sit with us.” Before I could, the would-be novelist by the win- dow caught my eye and lifted his coffee cup. I hesitat- ed. There was no sign of the server, but he was closer to the coffee station than I was. He could damned well get his own refill. And yet . . . Well, something told me ignoring him would be . . . unwise. I wouldn’t mind a job here, so showing my willingness to work wasn’t a bad thing. I got the pot and filled his cup. “Looking for a tip today?” he said. “Sure.” He leaned over, voice lowering. “Larry’s in a foul mood. Breakfast isn’t even over and Margie’s already dropped two plates, includ- ing the one for Peter Marks, which landed on his lap, right before he took off for a big meeting in Chicago. Marks is the landlord— gives Larry a good deal on the place. Larry said if she screws up again, she’s gone. And he just might mean it this time.” “Thanks.” He lifted his mug. “Quid pro quo.” I filled a cup for myself and took it back to Ida and Walter’s table. I looked around for Margie—I was starving—but there was still no sign of her. “I hear you met Gabriel Walsh,” Walter said as I sat. I nodded. “Someone said he’s a local? Or he used to be.” “Oh, yes,” Ida said. “But Gabriel himself never lived here. His momma did. Moved out when she was just a young one herself.” I’d heard of towns where you were considered lo- cal if you were born there, but this seemed a little ex- treme. As I poured creamer into my coffee, I could hear Larry tearing a strip off someone in the kitchen. Margie, I presumed. The novelist was right. I unwrapped my napkin-wrapped cutlery for a spoon to stir my coffee. Only a fork and a knife fell out. I lifted the knife. Stir with a knife, Stir up strife. I hesitated. I glanced at Ida and Walter, but they
were engrossed in their conversation. I glanced at the kitchen doors and started to put the knife down. No, that was silly. And even if it wasn’t, I shouldn’t . . . I lifted the knife again and gave my coffee a quick stir. As I laid it down, I noticed the novelist watching me, his eyes dancing. I turned back to Ida and Walter, and I was about to say something when a construction worker rose, a twenty in his hand. “Where’s that girl?” He peered toward the kitchen. “Margie!” She came out bearing a tray of steaming plates. A couple across the diner looked up expectantly. She nod- ded and moved a little faster. As she rounded the corner to our aisle, Ida’s cane fell. It didn’t drop with a clatter, just silently slid to the floor. Margie didn’t notice. No one seemed to notice. Margie was heading straight for it. I looked around. The writer caught my gaze. He looked at the cane, then back at me, smiling slightly, as if in challenge. I took another swig of coffee and lifted the menu. I thought I heard the writer chuckle. I didn’t, of course—he was too far away and the clatter of plates and murmur of voices would have drowned him out. Margie tripped over the cane. Not just a stumble, but a full-out sprawl that sent the plates crashing to the floor, oatmeal splattering everywhere, including on the two diners who’d been awaiting their breakfasts. Larry ran from the back, apologizing as he handed the customers damp towels and promised to cover dry cleaning. Margie picked herself up, babbling about the cane. I quietly slid from the booth and cleared away the broken bowls and plates. “You’re fired,” Larry said, spinning on Margie. “Go on. Get your things. I’ll send over your last check.” “It wasn’t my fault,” she protested. “It never is. Get out.” She started to say something else, but a glare from Larry shut her up, and she slunk away. Larry bent to help me with the broken dishes. “You still looking for a job, miss?”

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