Friday, March 16, 2012

Blog Tour: Mark of the Seer by Jenna Kay

Jenna Kay has always had a vivid imagination.  Blessed with three older brothers and two loving parents that encouraged her to follow her dreams; she decided to leave an 8 year career of being a cosmetologist to become a full time author.  Jenna felt that it was time to bring the supernatural to life.  Her novel, “Mark of the Seer” will be Jenna’s first with Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing.

Jenna currently resides in North Georgia where, when not writing, she spends time with her three young children and her loving husband.  Jenna’s heart is to impact the lives of young adults that are going through the hardships of this life with a hope that there is way more out there than just the pains of the world.

CLARITY MILLER always thought of her life as semi-normal. She had friends that would do anything for her, a boyfriend that was madly in love with her, and a roof over her head that she shared with her aunt.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. That is, until the day she met Sam.

When Sam informs her that he’s her guardian angel and that she has been given the gifts of a Seer, her life starts spiraling out of control. She wants nothing to do with the spiritual realm.

All she wants is to have a normal life as a teenager, but when a tragedy occurs that causes the whole town of Garlandton to fall to its knees she realizes that she has a very important decision to make.

Should she embrace the life of a Seer?
Only time will tell . . .

Write From Your Heart, Not For the World
By Jenna Kay

            I love writing. 

            I love creating different scenes filled with a diverse mix of characters.  Writing fuels creativity in the soul, giving way to a whole new world.  Some worlds are dark, some are bright—it's up to the artist in control of it.  Once I decided to become a writer I struggled for the longest time on what I should write.  Write for the world?  Or write from the heart?

            When I first started out I found that before I could even pick up a pen I had a decision to make—conform to the world or trust my heart.  I battled the irritating thoughts of “wasting my time” and “not being good enough”.  We as human beings want to fit in, want to be liked and have our hard work appreciated.  The sad truth is that being liked, appreciated, and fitting in is not always going to happen.  Personally I've learned that not fitting in and being a little different is way better than following the pack.  With that being said, I'm glad I'm different.

            My writing journey has allowed me to meet some great authors who harbor various writing styles.  Most of them are Indies and have been or going through the self-published game.  I'm so thankful to have met them and so thankful that Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly has taken my work (Love you Sarah Jane Davis!).  All the authors on the CHBB crew are very passionate about their work—they write from their hearts.

            So do I.

            Writing from the heart is the only way I know how to write, and I'd like to leave you with an excerpt from Mark of the Seer.  This is my first book ever written and I plan to write many more.  I hope you enjoy it.

Love to all!

Jenna Kay

For those who are struggling with not fitting in, don't stress!
Let your OWN light shine!

Here is a sneak peek for you!!!

Chapter Five
            Standing there by the magazine rack, casually flipping through a  magazine, was the boy with the glowing blue eyes.  Only now his eyes were no longer glowing, but shined an unnatural light blue, so light they almost seemed clear.  He stared at Nick, holding a firm expression on his flawless face. 
            My feet felt cemented to the floor.  A lump had formed uncomfortably in my throat, pulsating along with my beating heart.  There he was, right in front of me, the mysterious boy.  The most strange but beautiful boy my eyes had ever seen.  A sense of calmness drifted through my veins, making the fight with Nick seem a million miles away.  Again, the intoxicating scent of lavender took over the air, covering over the lemony smell from my cleaning supplies.
            There was something about him that called out to me, as if a warm tug was pulling my heart toward him.  It was like I knew him, and at the same time I didn't know him.  His eyes had left Nick and found mine.  A shiver tore through my body, not from fear, but from relief—I was relieved to see him.  His lips parted into a smile—I smiled back.  Of course that was when Nick yanked my arm, breaking me from my blissful trance.
            “What ya think your doin', princess,”  he scowled.  “We're not done talkin'. . .”
            “Yes you are,”  the boy cut in strongly, his gaze back on Nick, his jaw set in a serious lock.  “And if I were you, I'd take my hand off of her.”  The magazine was still opened in his hand.
            Nick shuddered.  Letting go of my arm, he walked up to the boy, stopping a few feet away.  “I don't know who ya are, but I'll let you in on a little secret—you do not want to screw around with me.  'Cause if you do, I'll beat ya to the ground, and from the looks of ya, you don't look like much of a fighter.  You'd maybe last five seconds with. . .”The boy suddenly held up a hand and Nick went silent right away.  After a few seconds he dropped his hand slowly, narrowing his eyes.
            “That's enough,”  he told Nick gently.  “Now go home and rest your polluted mind, little human.”  An uneasy, squeamish few seconds passed by.  My eyes flickered from Nick to the boy.  I would've been lying if I'd said that I wasn't scared for the boy—Nick towered over him by a few inches.  I tried closing my eyes but they seemed to be glued opened.  And just when I thought Nick was going to wail on him, the biggest surprise of the whole day took place, making my curiosity cultivate and confusion to settle deeper into my already brackish brain.
            Nick, after all of his hate-filled threats, did not go ballistic and pound the boy to the ground.  Instead he simply obeyed the boy's order, opening the door and walking out, without saying another word. 
            As the door opened and closed, the bell clanged, forcing a jump out of me.  I glanced back at the boy, who was nonchalantly flipping through the magazine again, as if everything was all peachy-keen.  As if Nick hadn't just threatened him.  Walking a few steps forward, finally able to break my planted feet free from the floor, I headed over to this lucky boy.  I mean it—he was lucky!  Nick had never backed down from a fight. . .never.  And looking him over, anyone could see that Nick would have beaten him to a pulp.  I'd seen Nick destroy way bigger guys than him.  It wasn't that this kid was a weenie or anything.  He was tall, may be six feet, and slender.  From the jeans and black t-shirt he was wearing I could not tell if he was ripped or not.  His black hair was ruffled slightly, immediately making me want to reach out and run my fingers through it.  With ruffled hair and all, this guy was gorgeous.
            Reaching the magazine rack I stared at him in wonderment.  That warm, calming sensation circled around me.  The smell of lavender had completely taken over the nasty lemony smell of the cleaning supplies.  To my dismay he continued flipping the pages of the magazine, as if I was invisible.
            “ did ya do that?”  I asked, determined to get his attention.  My heart pounded when his light, unnatural eyes looked down at me.
            “Do what?”  he replied elegantly, closing the magazine and placing it back on the rack.
            I gaped at him dubiously.  “Keeping Nick from grinding you into pieces!  I've never seen him back down from a fight.” 
            I waited for him to give me an obvious answer, but instead I got an answer that was so full with opacity that my brain screamed with annoyance, fueling up confusion.
            “So that was Nick,”  he said, his head turning toward the door.  “That boy's got some demons hanging all over him.”  He turned back to me, his enthralling eyes catching hold of mine, and again that warm feeling of calm ran from my head all the way down to my toes.
            “W-Who are you?”  I managed to asked, though my tongue felt too heavy for my mouth.
            To my disappointment he remained silent in his comfortable stare.  I don't know why I felt comfortable with him—any normal person would be running for the hills!  There was something not quite right about him, something I couldn't grab a hold of, which totally upset me.
            I decided to take a different approach.  “I saw you at my school today.  Are you new in town?”
            Giving me a dash of hope, he grinned.  “Sort of,”  he retorted sheepishly. 
            Okay, now we're getting somewhere.  “What's your name?”  His grin faded, and he grimaced.
            “My name's Sam.”
            I smiled graciously, so happy to finally get his name.  “Just Sam?”
            He nodded.
            “Well, my name's Clarity Mi—”
            “Yeah, I know,”  he said, cutting me off.
            I frowned.  “Yeah, about that.  How do you know me if you're new in town?  Also, what did you mean by calling Nick a “little human”, and what did you mean that demons were all over him?  And how did I hear you whisper my name when you were outside the—”
            “Whoa, slow down,”  he said, chuckling.  “Has anyone ever told you that you ask way too many questions?”
            “Not really,”  I replied, crossing my arms.  “But that's the only way to learn, right?  To ask as many questions as possible?”  I leaned into the rack of magazines, starring quizzically at him.

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