We, that is I, used to post Sunday Snippets from recently reviewed books. Due to personal issues, this honored task of mine had to end unexpectedly. With the new format and armed with a new computer, I would like to start this weekly special treat again. To start off strong, here is an except from Magic Rises by Ilona Andrews. Please let me (Una) know, of the books we’ve reviewed, which ones you would like to read a snippet. Especially if there is a novel you are still questioning on whether you would like to read it or not… or how much you’d like to move it up on your TBR list. I think, (shhhh don’t tell Twimom!) I could do some two-a-days to make it up to you loyal blog followers!
About the Book
Author: Ilona Andrews
Released: July 30, 2013
The clock said it was almost time for the meeting. I’d have to come back to it later. I stacked my books in the corner of the room, grabbed the Bible and the Almanac, made a beeline for Doolittle’s room, and rapped my knuckles on the door.
“Come in!” Eduardo called.
I opened the door. A large room stretched before me, easily as big as Desandra’s suite. Two doors stood opened, one on the left leading to a bedroom, the other on the right opening into a bathroom. To the left two tables had been set in the shape of an L. Glass vials and beakers lined the surface. Doolittle sat in the corner of the L looking through a microscope. To the right, two oversized plush couches flanked a coffee table. Derek sat on the closest one, holding cards in his hand. He’d pushed them together into a single stack. Across from him Eduardo lounged, taking an entire couch by himself. He held his cards in a wide fan.
“What do you mean, come in? You don’t know who I am.”
“Of course we know who you are,” Derek said.
“He smelled you coming,” Eduardo said.
Life with werewolves, why me?
I dropped into a chair by Doolittle’s table.
He looked at me, a pair of glasses perched on his nose.
“Why do you wear glasses? Doesn’t Lyc-V give you twenty-twenty vision?” I asked.
Doolittle tapped his glasses. “Yes, but these give me twenty-two.”
His voice with its coastal Georgia overtones made me so homesick, I almost hugged him.
“How’s the head?”
“Fragrant.” Doolittle opened a cooler that sat next to him. Inside the severed head rested, wrapped in plastic and half submerged in ice.
Doolittle leaned back. “It’s a shapeshifter. The blood reacts to silver and shows the presence of Lyc-V.”
“Aha! So I’m not crazy.”
“You are most definitely crazy,” Derek said. “But in a deranged, endearing way.”
“Don’t make me come over there.” I looked at Doolittle.
“They are a little rambunctious this morning,” he told me.