OPPRESSION Cover!

I've been waiting for this day FOREVER...My book has a cover! It has a cover that I LOVE.

It just makes it all much more real...proof that I'm not making all of this up. On top of it all, ZOVA got it just right. The girl is exactly how I pictured Elyse. Young but wise. Gentle but cautious.

What I love most is that her eyes are closed and that she seems to be coming into the light. I can't think of a more perfect way to visually express the idea of a girl discovering the truth about herself, especially after spending her whole life in the dark about who and what she is. 

Not to mention the title is Oppression, so the blackness pressing in on her from all sides is appropriate.

I just love it. Thank you ZOVA!

There are others like her. Many of them. 

And they have been waiting for her for a long time.

 OPPRESSION tells the story of a young woman who discovers that she belongs to a secret society of individuals with extraordinarily long life spans and unusual abilities. Fearful of prophecies about their only daughter, her parents kept her hidden from the world – and the society – for as long as they could. But when their own untimely deaths leave her to fend for herself, the truth of her origins and the fateful prophecy find her at last. Joining the ranks of such widely popular works as the Twilight Saga, The Hunger Games, and the Mortal Instruments series, Mrs. Therrien's paranormal romance/adventure promises to be the next fan-favorite in its genre.

*Note: The above blurb is not what will be printed on the back cover. ZOVA is still working on that, but what I've seen of it looks awesome. Can't wait to share that with you when it's ready.

Also, in case you haven't read the little teaser I posted a while back, here is a sneak peek inside the book.

When I left Cearno’s in a state of half sleep, I found the door to my apartment ajar. I grabbed the knob and pushed it open with caution, assuming I had forgotten to close it all the way.

“Hello?” I asked, just in case.

No answer. I shut the door behind me.

It wasn’t until I reached the top of the stairs that I felt something wet on my palm and realized I had blood on my hand. I made my way to the sink, looking for where I’d cut myself when I heard her.

“It’s not your blood,” Kara said from behind me, making me jump a foot in the air.

“What are you doing here, Kara?” I asked, callous and guarded. The last time I’d seen her, she’d stabbed me in the leg.

She was slumped down in the corner, sitting on the floor of my kitchen, a bloody mess.

My face registered with shock. “What happened to you?” 

I waited for an answer, but she only glanced at me briefly, annoyed by the question, and continued staring off into the distance.

“Are you hurt?” 

If she wasn’t going to talk to me I would find out for myself. I knelt down in front of her, looking over her blood stained hands, arms and face. She seemed fine.

“It’s not my blood either,” she said, her eyes finally meeting mine.