SHIMMER (A RILEY BLOOM BOOK) BY ALYSON NOëL

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Review “Bestselling author Alyson Noël gives fans the second book in her fascinating series about Riley Bloom and her life after death. The character of Riley brings a lot of energy to the story, and her clumsy but heartfelt attempts to do what's right are endearing and contagious.” ?KidsReads.com “Understanding and enjoying this book does not hinge on having read Radiance (Square Fish, 2010), but readers will be quickly drawn to Riley and want to learn more about this spunky character and her previous experiences. The author's sharp contemporary wit in concert with her fascinating fantasy setting and important historical connections will draw readers through this enjoyable novel and have them begging for Riley's third adventure.” ?School Library Journal “Noël ably captures the cadence of tweenspeak in this lively, action-packed adventure.” ?Booklist

About the Author Alyson Noël is the #1 New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of Faking 19, Art Geeks and Prom Queens, Laguna Cove, Fly Me to the Moon, Kiss & Blog, Saving Zoë, Cruel Summer, and The Immortals series including Evermore, Blue Moon, Shadowland, Dark Flame, and Night Star, as well as the Immortals spin-off series beginning with Radiance. With over 2 million copies in print in the US alone, her books have been published in 35 countries and have won awards including the National Reader's Choice Award, NYLA Book of Winter Award, NYPL Stuff for the Teenage, TeenReads Best Books of 2007, and Reviewer's Choice 2007 Top Ten, and have been chosen for the CBS Early Show's "Give the Gift of Reading" segment, and selected for Seventeen Magazine's "Hot List" and Beach Book Club Pick. She lives in Laguna Beach, California. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 If you think you know what it’s like to be dead—if you think it’s just an eternity of harp music and cloud lounging—well, think again. Ever hear the saying, Life goes on? It does.

Long past the point when everyone else thinks it stopped. Take it from me, I’ve been dead for just over a year, and from the moment I crossed that bridge to the other side—well, that’s when things really got interesting.…

2 “Go on, Buttercup—go get it boy!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and squinted into a blanket of gooey, white haze still hours away from being burned off by the sun. Gazing upon a beach that was just the way I liked it—foggy, cold, a tiny bit spooky even. Reminding me of our old family visits to the Oregon Coast—the kind I sometimes tried to re-create on my own. But despite the infinite manifesting possibilities of the Here & Now, something about it just wasn’t the same. Sure, you could replicate similar sensations, the way the tiny, pebbly grains wedged between your toes, the way the cool ocean spray felt upon your face, but still, it didn’t quite cut it. Couldn’t quite live up to the real thing. And clearly Buttercup agreed. He sprinted after the stick, running headfirst into a dad enjoying an early morning stroll with his son, before emerging on their other side. Causing the kid to stop and stare and gaze all around—sensing the disturbance, the sudden change in atmosphere, the burst of cold air—the usual signs a ghost is present. The usual signs kids always tune in to, and their parents always miss. I shut my eyes tightly, concentrating on mingling my energy with my surroundings. Summoning the vibration of the sand—the seashells—even the haze—longing to experience it in the same way I used to, knowing I’d have only a few moments of this before Buttercup returned, dropped the wet, slobbery stick at my feet, and we repeated the sequence again. He was tireless. True to his breed, he’d happily retrieve for hours on end. A nice, long game of fetch making the list of his top-five favorite things, ranking right up there with dog biscuits, a warm patch of sun, bird chasing, and of course, his newest love—flying. Nudging my leg with his nose, letting me know he was back, he stared up at me with those big brown eyes, practically begging me to hurl the stick even farther this time. So I did. Watching as it soared high into the sky before it pierced the filmy, white veil and was gone. Buttercup dashing behind it, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail wagging crazily from side to side—the furry, yellow tip the last thing I saw before the mist swallowed him whole and he vanished from sight. Leaving only a faint echo of excited barks trailing behind. I turned my attention to the small flock of seagulls circling overhead, swooping toward the water and filling their beaks with unsuspecting fish, before taking flight again. Vaguely aware of the minutes slipping past with still no sign of Buttercup, I called out his name, then chased it with a

spot-on imitation of my dad’s special whistle that never failed to bring Buttercup home. My feet carving into the sand, leaving no trace of footprints, as I pushed through a fog so thick, so viscous, it reminded me of the time I’d flown through a cloud storm for fun, only to realize it was anything but. And I was just about to venture into the freezing-cold water, knowing his fondness for swimming, when I heard a deep, unmistakable growl that immediately set me on edge. Buttercup rarely growled. He was far too good-natured for that. So when he did, it was safe to assume he’d stumbled upon something serious. Something very, very bad. I followed the sound of it. That low, gravely rumble growing in intensity the closer I crept. Only to be replaced with something much worse—a horrible snarl, a high-pitched yelp, and a sickening silence that made my gut dance. “Buttercup?” I called, my voice so shaky, so unsteady I was forced to clear my throat and try again. “Buttercup—where are you? This isn’t funny, you know! You better show yourself now,or you will not be flying home!” The second the threat was out, I heard him. Paws beating against the hard, wet sand, his quick panting breath getting louder and louder the closer he came. I sighed with relief and sank down to the ground. Readying myself for the big, slobbery apology hug that soon would be mine, only to watch in absolute horror as the fog split wide open and a large dog jumped out. A dog that wasn’t Buttercup. It was—something else entirely. Big—the size of a pony. Black—its coat matted and gnarled. With paws the size of hooves that came hurtling toward me, as I screamed long and loud, desperate to get out of its way. But it was too late. No matter how fast I moved—it wasn’t fast enough. There was no escaping the chains of its sharply barbed collar that clanged ominously. No escaping the menacing glow of those deep yellow eyes with the laser-hot gaze that burned right into mine, right into my soul.…

3

I curled into a ball, pressed my nose against my knees, and covered my face as I waited for the impact. Waited for the push of those paws, the bite of those razor-sharp teeth, the heat of that ominous gaze to sear straight into the heart of me. But nothing came. And, really, why would it when there was one major thing saving me from his attack? One major thing saving me from any attack. One major thing that I still hadn’t grown used to—or at least not when I was in the middle of being scared witless. The fact that I was dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead and buried. Dead as … well, pretty much as dead as it gets. The irony being that while I may have felt more alive than ever, the truth was that my physical body had died just over a year ago. Leaving me with this new, light and filmy, somewhat translucent version that looked an awful lot like the original, gravity-bound version, except for the fact that things could easily pass through me now, whereas they couldn’t before. Things like oversize hellhounds with matted black fur and deep menacing growls, for instance. And, as luck would have it, I’d failed to remember any of that until Bodhi had already caught up with me. Or, rather, make that Bodhi and Buttercup, my sweet yellow Lab, who’s not only known me for almost all of my life, but who died in the car accident right alongside me, which, all things considered, you’d think would result in some serious loyalty. But noooo. There were no loyalties where Buttercup was concerned. He was all too eager to sniff and lick the fingers of just about anyone willing to pet him, feed him, or play fetch with him—including my ghost guide Bodhi. And as Bodhi laughed himself silly at the way I cowered on the sand, all coiled up into my own tiny, blond, ghost-girl ball of fear, Buttercup barked and drooled and tail-wagged happily beside him, carrying on in a way that seriously made me rethink my loyalty to him, and pretty much had me hating Bodhi as much as I did the first time we met. The first time he pushed me (literally!) into that awful room, where I was forced to undergo a superembarrassing, completely agonizing life review. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review where I discovered that my whole entire existence, my brief twelve years on the earth plane, had amounted to little more than a joke—and that the joke was on me.

The whole thing had been a wash. A waste. A decade-long exercise in trying to emulate my older sister, Ever, in hopes of being just like her. Only to result in some seriously ridiculous, seriously bratty, seriously stalkinglike behavior that, in the end, was pretty much impossible to defend. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review presided over by various members of the Council, who informed me that based on the amount of time I’d lingered on the earth plane—stubbornly refusing to cross the bridge to the Here & Now in order to stay behind and spy on my sister, celebrities, former teachers, and friends (along with anyone else who might prove interesting but was otherwise unsuspecting)—I had a job to fulfill, one where I was expected to “coax and convince” lingering spirits to cross the bridge to their new home, acting as a Soul Catcher, if you will. And even worse, I’d also been assigned a guide/teacher/coach/counselor/boss (or at least that’s how Bodhi likes to describe himself), who I was expected not only to answer to, but maybe even learn from. Despite the fact that he no longer dressed like the big dork he did then, despite the fact that he’d swapped the nerd wear for some much cooler clothes, despite the fact that he’d let his hair go all shaggy and loose to the point where it curved down into his face in that cool guy, slightly windswept, effortless way, despite the fact that every time I looked into his brilliant blue eyes I was totally reminded of the Zac Efron poster that used to hang on my old bedroom wall, it still didn’t make it okay for him to laugh at me the way he did. I continued to lie there, every single part of me just wishing he’d stop and move on already. But when it became clear that he wouldn’t, when it became clear that he was trying to calm down just enough, to catch his breath just enough, so that he could make the switch from laughing at me to making fun of me verbally, I jumped to...

SHIMMER (A RILEY BLOOM BOOK) BY ALYSON NOëL PDF

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SHIMMER (A RILEY BLOOM BOOK) BY ALYSON NOëL PDF

Having solved the matter of the Radiant Boy, Riley, Buttercup, and Bodhi are enjoying a welldeserved vacation. When Riley comes across a vicious black dog, against Bodhi's advice, she decides to cross him over. While following the dog, she runs into a young ghost named Rebecca. Despite Rebecca's sweet appearance, Riley soon learns she's not at all what she seems. As the daughter of a former plantation owner, she is furious about being murdered during a slave revolt in 1733. Mired in her own anger, Rebecca is lashing out by keeping the ghosts who died along with her trapped in their worst memories. Can Riley help Rebecca forgive and forget without losing herself to her own nightmarish memories? Find out in Shimmer, the second book in the Riley Bloom series from bestselling author Alyson Noël. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

Sales Rank: #826194 in Books Brand: Square Fish Published on: 2011-03-15 Released on: 2011-03-15 Original language: English Number of items: 1 Dimensions: 8.28" h x .56" w x 5.48" l, .42 pounds Binding: Paperback 208 pages

Review “Bestselling author Alyson Noël gives fans the second book in her fascinating series about Riley Bloom and her life after death. The character of Riley brings a lot of energy to the story, and her clumsy but heartfelt attempts to do what's right are endearing and contagious.” ?KidsReads.com “Understanding and enjoying this book does not hinge on having read Radiance (Square Fish, 2010), but readers will be quickly drawn to Riley and want to learn more about this spunky character and her previous experiences. The author's sharp contemporary wit in concert with her fascinating fantasy setting and important historical connections will draw readers through this enjoyable novel and have them begging for Riley's third adventure.” ?School Library Journal “Noël ably captures the cadence of tweenspeak in this lively, action-packed adventure.” ?Booklist

About the Author Alyson Noël is the #1 New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of Faking 19, Art Geeks and Prom Queens, Laguna Cove, Fly Me to the Moon, Kiss & Blog, Saving Zoë, Cruel Summer, and The Immortals series including Evermore, Blue Moon, Shadowland, Dark Flame, and Night Star, as well as the Immortals spin-off series beginning with Radiance. With over 2 million copies in print in the US alone, her books have been published in 35 countries and have won awards including the National Reader's Choice Award, NYLA Book of Winter Award, NYPL Stuff for the

Teenage, TeenReads Best Books of 2007, and Reviewer's Choice 2007 Top Ten, and have been chosen for the CBS Early Show's "Give the Gift of Reading" segment, and selected for Seventeen Magazine's "Hot List" and Beach Book Club Pick. She lives in Laguna Beach, California. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 If you think you know what it’s like to be dead—if you think it’s just an eternity of harp music and cloud lounging—well, think again. Ever hear the saying, Life goes on? It does. Long past the point when everyone else thinks it stopped. Take it from me, I’ve been dead for just over a year, and from the moment I crossed that bridge to the other side—well, that’s when things really got interesting.…

2 “Go on, Buttercup—go get it boy!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and squinted into a blanket of gooey, white haze still hours away from being burned off by the sun. Gazing upon a beach that was just the way I liked it—foggy, cold, a tiny bit spooky even. Reminding me of our old family visits to the Oregon Coast—the kind I sometimes tried to re-create on my own. But despite the infinite manifesting possibilities of the Here & Now, something about it just wasn’t the same. Sure, you could replicate similar sensations, the way the tiny, pebbly grains wedged between your toes, the way the cool ocean spray felt upon your face, but still, it didn’t quite cut it. Couldn’t quite live up to the real thing. And clearly Buttercup agreed. He sprinted after the stick, running headfirst into a dad enjoying an early morning stroll with his son, before emerging on their other side. Causing the kid to stop and stare and gaze all around—sensing the disturbance, the sudden change in atmosphere, the burst of cold air—the usual signs a ghost is present. The usual signs kids always tune in to, and their parents always miss. I shut my eyes tightly, concentrating on mingling my energy with my surroundings. Summoning the vibration of the sand—the seashells—even the haze—longing to experience it in the same way I used to, knowing I’d have only a few moments of this before Buttercup returned, dropped the wet, slobbery stick at my feet, and we repeated the sequence again. He was tireless. True to his breed, he’d happily retrieve for hours on end. A nice, long game of fetch making the list of his top-five favorite things, ranking right up there with dog biscuits, a warm patch of sun, bird chasing, and of course, his newest love—flying. Nudging my leg with his nose, letting me know he was back, he stared up at me with those big brown eyes, practically begging me to hurl the stick even farther this time.

So I did. Watching as it soared high into the sky before it pierced the filmy, white veil and was gone. Buttercup dashing behind it, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail wagging crazily from side to side—the furry, yellow tip the last thing I saw before the mist swallowed him whole and he vanished from sight. Leaving only a faint echo of excited barks trailing behind. I turned my attention to the small flock of seagulls circling overhead, swooping toward the water and filling their beaks with unsuspecting fish, before taking flight again. Vaguely aware of the minutes slipping past with still no sign of Buttercup, I called out his name, then chased it with a spot-on imitation of my dad’s special whistle that never failed to bring Buttercup home. My feet carving into the sand, leaving no trace of footprints, as I pushed through a fog so thick, so viscous, it reminded me of the time I’d flown through a cloud storm for fun, only to realize it was anything but. And I was just about to venture into the freezing-cold water, knowing his fondness for swimming, when I heard a deep, unmistakable growl that immediately set me on edge. Buttercup rarely growled. He was far too good-natured for that. So when he did, it was safe to assume he’d stumbled upon something serious. Something very, very bad. I followed the sound of it. That low, gravely rumble growing in intensity the closer I crept. Only to be replaced with something much worse—a horrible snarl, a high-pitched yelp, and a sickening silence that made my gut dance. “Buttercup?” I called, my voice so shaky, so unsteady I was forced to clear my throat and try again. “Buttercup—where are you? This isn’t funny, you know! You better show yourself now,or you will not be flying home!” The second the threat was out, I heard him. Paws beating against the hard, wet sand, his quick panting breath getting louder and louder the closer he came. I sighed with relief and sank down to the ground. Readying myself for the big, slobbery apology hug that soon would be mine, only to watch in absolute horror as the fog split wide open and a large dog jumped out. A dog that wasn’t Buttercup. It was—something else entirely. Big—the size of a pony. Black—its coat matted and gnarled. With paws the size of hooves that came hurtling toward me, as I screamed long and loud, desperate to get out of its way. But it was too late.

No matter how fast I moved—it wasn’t fast enough. There was no escaping the chains of its sharply barbed collar that clanged ominously. No escaping the menacing glow of those deep yellow eyes with the laser-hot gaze that burned right into mine, right into my soul.…

3 I curled into a ball, pressed my nose against my knees, and covered my face as I waited for the impact. Waited for the push of those paws, the bite of those razor-sharp teeth, the heat of that ominous gaze to sear straight into the heart of me. But nothing came. And, really, why would it when there was one major thing saving me from his attack? One major thing saving me from any attack. One major thing that I still hadn’t grown used to—or at least not when I was in the middle of being scared witless. The fact that I was dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead and buried. Dead as … well, pretty much as dead as it gets. The irony being that while I may have felt more alive than ever, the truth was that my physical body had died just over a year ago. Leaving me with this new, light and filmy, somewhat translucent version that looked an awful lot like the original, gravity-bound version, except for the fact that things could easily pass through me now, whereas they couldn’t before. Things like oversize hellhounds with matted black fur and deep menacing growls, for instance. And, as luck would have it, I’d failed to remember any of that until Bodhi had already caught up with me. Or, rather, make that Bodhi and Buttercup, my sweet yellow Lab, who’s not only known me for almost all of my life, but who died in the car accident right alongside me, which, all things considered, you’d think would result in some serious loyalty. But noooo. There were no loyalties where Buttercup was concerned. He was all too eager to sniff and lick the fingers of just about anyone willing to pet him, feed him, or play fetch with him—including my ghost

guide Bodhi. And as Bodhi laughed himself silly at the way I cowered on the sand, all coiled up into my own tiny, blond, ghost-girl ball of fear, Buttercup barked and drooled and tail-wagged happily beside him, carrying on in a way that seriously made me rethink my loyalty to him, and pretty much had me hating Bodhi as much as I did the first time we met. The first time he pushed me (literally!) into that awful room, where I was forced to undergo a superembarrassing, completely agonizing life review. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review where I discovered that my whole entire existence, my brief twelve years on the earth plane, had amounted to little more than a joke—and that the joke was on me. The whole thing had been a wash. A waste. A decade-long exercise in trying to emulate my older sister, Ever, in hopes of being just like her. Only to result in some seriously ridiculous, seriously bratty, seriously stalkinglike behavior that, in the end, was pretty much impossible to defend. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review presided over by various members of the Council, who informed me that based on the amount of time I’d lingered on the earth plane—stubbornly refusing to cross the bridge to the Here & Now in order to stay behind and spy on my sister, celebrities, former teachers, and friends (along with anyone else who might prove interesting but was otherwise unsuspecting)—I had a job to fulfill, one where I was expected to “coax and convince” lingering spirits to cross the bridge to their new home, acting as a Soul Catcher, if you will. And even worse, I’d also been assigned a guide/teacher/coach/counselor/boss (or at least that’s how Bodhi likes to describe himself), who I was expected not only to answer to, but maybe even learn from. Despite the fact that he no longer dressed like the big dork he did then, despite the fact that he’d swapped the nerd wear for some much cooler clothes, despite the fact that he’d let his hair go all shaggy and loose to the point where it curved down into his face in that cool guy, slightly windswept, effortless way, despite the fact that every time I looked into his brilliant blue eyes I was totally reminded of the Zac Efron poster that used to hang on my old bedroom wall, it still didn’t make it okay for him to laugh at me the way he did. I continued to lie there, every single part of me just wishing he’d stop and move on already. But when it became clear that he wouldn’t, when it became clear that he was trying to calm down just enough, to catch his breath just enough, so that he could make the switch from laughing at me to making fun of me verbally, I jumped to... Most helpful customer reviews 5 of 5 people found the following review helpful. Perfect for Middle grade and young teens By Cari Short Version: So on the rating let me explain if you go in with the thought that you are going to read a middle grade book that gets right to the point and tells a great story you will love this book but if you go in

expecting a long drawn out story with romance than you will feel disappointed but trust me this is a really good book! If you have read the Evermore series you will enjoy this but it's not required that you do. You will be lost if you haven't read Radiance the first book in this series. You can find my review of Radiance here. Long Version: (Don't read if you haven't read Radiance) After Riley successfully completed her first mission she was granted time off to go back to the earth plane where she can relax and get to know her guide Bodhi but things never go smoothly for Riley. She comes across a vicious hell dog and while Bodhi warns her not to get involved or have anything to do with it, she does the exact opposite. Riley finds out that the dog belongs to Rebecca, an evil spirit, who traps spirits in their worst fear and feeds off their tortured energy. Only to make matters worse Bodhi and Buttercup get trapped and Riley has to save her guide, dog, and put a stop to Rebecca's evil ways. When Rebecca finds out that Riley want's to stop her, she blocks her out and Riley finds help from a spirit who is tied to Rebecca's past. He sends Riley on a spirit quest to show her the type of person Rebecca used to be when she was alive and what she suffered while living on her father's plantation. Alyson Noel does not tread lightly on the topic of slavery giving us flashbacks to how horrible slaves were tread and I found it to be a great element in the story. In Shimmer we learn more about Bodhi and what his biggest regret was when he was alive. Rebecca also shows Riley the tragic way that she died and why she is so angry, but she is one ghost that is not willing to cross over. Riley has always been one of my favorite characters and while I have so many questions about where the series will go I find Shimmer to be a great book. 2 of 2 people found the following review helpful. Shimmer By Anna Lemkau Now that Riley & Bodhi solved the case of the Radiant Boy, they are hoping for some R & R. But soon they come across a young girl name Rebecca. She is not happy at all with having been murdered. She aims to take her revenge anyway she can. I was introduced to Riley first in Radiance, but it wasn't till reading Evermore that I started to really like her. She is sweet and cute, well when she wants to be... but loves making mischief and looks up to her sister. For me she turned into a pretty lovable character. Shimmer is a fast, fun and intriguing read. An excellent installment in the series. I found the history behind ghost girl Rebecca interesting. She is one angry girl. Ultimately Riley's act of freewill is dangerous for everyone involved and when it comes to the council the consequences could be even worse. I look forward to see how things turn out in the next book. 3 Stars- Good Read 1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. Not as good as the first, but worthwhile By Beth S. It took a while to get into this story, but once I did, I couldn't stop reading. Noel has created a strong-willed protagonist in Riley Bloom - definitely not someone I would imagine as a messenger of God. Then again, Noel's idea of Heaven is something completely different than what most people imagine it to be - calling it instead Here & Now rather than Heaven, with God never being mentioned once in either book. This is not a complaint per se, merely an observation. This book is,

after all, a fantasy, so Noel has the will and the right to create whatever world she desires. My complaint about Riley is more her inconsistent characterization. One minute she's talking like a well-read adult using words like cajole, gobsmacked, and eke, the next minute she's talking like the pre-teen that she is, mentioning rocking out to Kelly Clarkson, and talking about how she hates her teacher, Bodhi. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't one of the requirements of "crossing over" that you let go of all the hate and anger? This is not just in my idea of Heaven, but also for the Here & Now as well since Riley's job as soul catcher is to convince tormented souls to let go of their earthly torment and cross over into eternal peace. Riley's inconsistent characterization was not enough to keep me from finishing the book, but I do worry that the audience this book is aimed for might read it more suspiciously because she sounds too much like an adult in certain places. Kids want to read about characters who sound like them, not what an adult THINKS they sound like. Despite my criticisms, it was an entertaining, worthwhile read. I enjoyed the added historical aspect to the story as well - with Riley having to convince Rebecca, the young girl murdered in a slave revolt, to cross over into the Here & Now. I will definitely continue with the series when the next book comes out. See all 60 customer reviews...

SHIMMER (A RILEY BLOOM BOOK) BY ALYSON NOëL PDF

Spending the leisure by reading Shimmer (A Riley Bloom Book) By Alyson Noël could provide such terrific experience even you are just sitting on your chair in the workplace or in your bed. It will certainly not curse your time. This Shimmer (A Riley Bloom Book) By Alyson Noël will direct you to have even more valuable time while taking rest. It is very enjoyable when at the midday, with a cup of coffee or tea and a book Shimmer (A Riley Bloom Book) By Alyson Noël in your gizmo or computer display. By appreciating the sights around, below you could start reviewing. Review “Bestselling author Alyson Noël gives fans the second book in her fascinating series about Riley Bloom and her life after death. The character of Riley brings a lot of energy to the story, and her clumsy but heartfelt attempts to do what's right are endearing and contagious.” ?KidsReads.com “Understanding and enjoying this book does not hinge on having read Radiance (Square Fish, 2010), but readers will be quickly drawn to Riley and want to learn more about this spunky character and her previous experiences. The author's sharp contemporary wit in concert with her fascinating fantasy setting and important historical connections will draw readers through this enjoyable novel and have them begging for Riley's third adventure.” ?School Library Journal “Noël ably captures the cadence of tweenspeak in this lively, action-packed adventure.” ?Booklist

About the Author Alyson Noël is the #1 New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of Faking 19, Art Geeks and Prom Queens, Laguna Cove, Fly Me to the Moon, Kiss & Blog, Saving Zoë, Cruel Summer, and The Immortals series including Evermore, Blue Moon, Shadowland, Dark Flame, and Night Star, as well as the Immortals spin-off series beginning with Radiance. With over 2 million copies in print in the US alone, her books have been published in 35 countries and have won awards including the National Reader's Choice Award, NYLA Book of Winter Award, NYPL Stuff for the Teenage, TeenReads Best Books of 2007, and Reviewer's Choice 2007 Top Ten, and have been chosen for the CBS Early Show's "Give the Gift of Reading" segment, and selected for Seventeen Magazine's "Hot List" and Beach Book Club Pick. She lives in Laguna Beach, California. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 If you think you know what it’s like to be dead—if you think it’s just an eternity of harp music and cloud lounging—well, think again. Ever hear the saying, Life goes on? It does. Long past the point when everyone else thinks it stopped. Take it from me, I’ve been dead for just over a year, and from the moment I crossed that bridge to the other side—well, that’s when things really got interesting.…

2 “Go on, Buttercup—go get it boy!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and squinted into a blanket of gooey, white haze still hours away from being burned off by the sun. Gazing upon a beach that was just the way I liked it—foggy, cold, a tiny bit spooky even. Reminding me of our old family visits to the Oregon Coast—the kind I sometimes tried to re-create on my own. But despite the infinite manifesting possibilities of the Here & Now, something about it just wasn’t the same. Sure, you could replicate similar sensations, the way the tiny, pebbly grains wedged between your toes, the way the cool ocean spray felt upon your face, but still, it didn’t quite cut it. Couldn’t quite live up to the real thing. And clearly Buttercup agreed. He sprinted after the stick, running headfirst into a dad enjoying an early morning stroll with his son, before emerging on their other side. Causing the kid to stop and stare and gaze all around—sensing the disturbance, the sudden change in atmosphere, the burst of cold air—the usual signs a ghost is present. The usual signs kids always tune in to, and their parents always miss. I shut my eyes tightly, concentrating on mingling my energy with my surroundings. Summoning the vibration of the sand—the seashells—even the haze—longing to experience it in the same way I used to, knowing I’d have only a few moments of this before Buttercup returned, dropped the wet, slobbery stick at my feet, and we repeated the sequence again. He was tireless. True to his breed, he’d happily retrieve for hours on end. A nice, long game of fetch making the list of his top-five favorite things, ranking right up there with dog biscuits, a warm patch of sun, bird chasing, and of course, his newest love—flying. Nudging my leg with his nose, letting me know he was back, he stared up at me with those big brown eyes, practically begging me to hurl the stick even farther this time. So I did. Watching as it soared high into the sky before it pierced the filmy, white veil and was gone. Buttercup dashing behind it, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail wagging crazily from side to side—the furry, yellow tip the last thing I saw before the mist swallowed him whole and he vanished from sight. Leaving only a faint echo of excited barks trailing behind. I turned my attention to the small flock of seagulls circling overhead, swooping toward the water and filling their beaks with unsuspecting fish, before taking flight again. Vaguely aware of the minutes slipping past with still no sign of Buttercup, I called out his name, then chased it with a spot-on imitation of my dad’s special whistle that never failed to bring Buttercup home. My feet carving into the sand, leaving no trace of footprints, as I pushed through a fog so thick, so viscous, it reminded me of the time I’d flown through a cloud storm for fun, only to realize it was anything but. And I was just about to venture into the freezing-cold water, knowing his fondness for swimming, when I heard a deep, unmistakable growl that immediately set me on edge.

Buttercup rarely growled. He was far too good-natured for that. So when he did, it was safe to assume he’d stumbled upon something serious. Something very, very bad. I followed the sound of it. That low, gravely rumble growing in intensity the closer I crept. Only to be replaced with something much worse—a horrible snarl, a high-pitched yelp, and a sickening silence that made my gut dance. “Buttercup?” I called, my voice so shaky, so unsteady I was forced to clear my throat and try again. “Buttercup—where are you? This isn’t funny, you know! You better show yourself now,or you will not be flying home!” The second the threat was out, I heard him. Paws beating against the hard, wet sand, his quick panting breath getting louder and louder the closer he came. I sighed with relief and sank down to the ground. Readying myself for the big, slobbery apology hug that soon would be mine, only to watch in absolute horror as the fog split wide open and a large dog jumped out. A dog that wasn’t Buttercup. It was—something else entirely. Big—the size of a pony. Black—its coat matted and gnarled. With paws the size of hooves that came hurtling toward me, as I screamed long and loud, desperate to get out of its way. But it was too late. No matter how fast I moved—it wasn’t fast enough. There was no escaping the chains of its sharply barbed collar that clanged ominously. No escaping the menacing glow of those deep yellow eyes with the laser-hot gaze that burned right into mine, right into my soul.…

3 I curled into a ball, pressed my nose against my knees, and covered my face as I waited for the impact. Waited for the push of those paws, the bite of those razor-sharp teeth, the heat of that ominous gaze to sear straight into the heart of me.

But nothing came. And, really, why would it when there was one major thing saving me from his attack? One major thing saving me from any attack. One major thing that I still hadn’t grown used to—or at least not when I was in the middle of being scared witless. The fact that I was dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead and buried. Dead as … well, pretty much as dead as it gets. The irony being that while I may have felt more alive than ever, the truth was that my physical body had died just over a year ago. Leaving me with this new, light and filmy, somewhat translucent version that looked an awful lot like the original, gravity-bound version, except for the fact that things could easily pass through me now, whereas they couldn’t before. Things like oversize hellhounds with matted black fur and deep menacing growls, for instance. And, as luck would have it, I’d failed to remember any of that until Bodhi had already caught up with me. Or, rather, make that Bodhi and Buttercup, my sweet yellow Lab, who’s not only known me for almost all of my life, but who died in the car accident right alongside me, which, all things considered, you’d think would result in some serious loyalty. But noooo. There were no loyalties where Buttercup was concerned. He was all too eager to sniff and lick the fingers of just about anyone willing to pet him, feed him, or play fetch with him—including my ghost guide Bodhi. And as Bodhi laughed himself silly at the way I cowered on the sand, all coiled up into my own tiny, blond, ghost-girl ball of fear, Buttercup barked and drooled and tail-wagged happily beside him, carrying on in a way that seriously made me rethink my loyalty to him, and pretty much had me hating Bodhi as much as I did the first time we met. The first time he pushed me (literally!) into that awful room, where I was forced to undergo a superembarrassing, completely agonizing life review. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review where I discovered that my whole entire existence, my brief twelve years on the earth plane, had amounted to little more than a joke—and that the joke was on me. The whole thing had been a wash. A waste. A decade-long exercise in trying to emulate my older sister, Ever, in hopes of being just like her.

Only to result in some seriously ridiculous, seriously bratty, seriously stalkinglike behavior that, in the end, was pretty much impossible to defend. A super-embarrassing, completely agonizing life review presided over by various members of the Council, who informed me that based on the amount of time I’d lingered on the earth plane—stubbornly refusing to cross the bridge to the Here & Now in order to stay behind and spy on my sister, celebrities, former teachers, and friends (along with anyone else who might prove interesting but was otherwise unsuspecting)—I had a job to fulfill, one where I was expected to “coax and convince” lingering spirits to cross the bridge to their new home, acting as a Soul Catcher, if you will. And even worse, I’d also been assigned a guide/teacher/coach/counselor/boss (or at least that’s how Bodhi likes to describe himself), who I was expected not only to answer to, but maybe even learn from. Despite the fact that he no longer dressed like the big dork he did then, despite the fact that he’d swapped the nerd wear for some much cooler clothes, despite the fact that he’d let his hair go all shaggy and loose to the point where it curved down into his face in that cool guy, slightly windswept, effortless way, despite the fact that every time I looked into his brilliant blue eyes I was totally reminded of the Zac Efron poster that used to hang on my old bedroom wall, it still didn’t make it okay for him to laugh at me the way he did. I continued to lie there, every single part of me just wishing he’d stop and move on already. But when it became clear that he wouldn’t, when it became clear that he was trying to calm down just enough, to catch his breath just enough, so that he could make the switch from laughing at me to making fun of me verbally, I jumped to...

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