Which Book Should I Get Next (1st Edition)

Which Book Should I Get Next?

Is It..........................

Haunting Violet by Alyxandra Harvey

Darker Still by Leanna Renee Hieber

OR

The Madman's Daughter by Megan Shepherd

VOTE NOW IN THE COMMENTS SECTION

CLOSES 02/03/13

2 best books in the world

Here are the 2 best books in the world

BOOK 1:

Sneek Peek from This Book:

Now I Threw the plaid dress over a chair and slipped into my ratty nightgown. My bed creaked under my weight. A Dozen painted birds looked down on me from the wall, plates torn from a book, while Saraki had arrayed her side of the room with calendars of comely girls and a yellowing poster for Only A Maid, Starring Ethine May, Saraki's Favorite. Saraki did not come to the room. This was Not unusual. She often spent the night with Granden. I Shuddered to think of her lying with him like he was a wet puppy: "Poor thing, poor little thing." Granden attracted a certain sort pf woman, for reasons I never quite understood. One of Eila's dogs started barking, rousing all the others to join in, and Polly shouted for them to shut up. I Closed my eyes. I Yearned to break free of this place, so distant from the serene rooms and lush gardens of my childhood. Yet, A Part of me wished the decision was harder, that the troupe meant more to me-Or Perhaps most of all, that I Meant more to them. No one was sitting up with me, helping me decide, telling me not to go because they'd miss me. I Had tried to make friends I had tried- I'd just never been good at it. To entrust my fate, to a gentleman brought risk. If a trouser girl went missing, no one would care. If a trouser girl cried for help from inside a gentleman's carriage, no one would listen. No, No- I Mustn't think this way. Granden Would try to scare me into staying. Before Jane left the troupe to marry, he'd told her no man would marry a girl with a baby, a dancing girl from a show. Jane believed in love, and I only had to believe in business. If Mr. Parry paid even half again what I made with Granden. I Could start putting some away and send a token home to prove I'd done well after all.

BOOK 2: 

Sneek Peek from This Book:

Erris followed, briefly grabbing my elbow with a steady hand when I stumbled on a crooked step. "I feel like a bandit, snooping around without anyone who lives here," he said.

"I'm glad we can snoop. Clearly, there's nothing to hide around here." In Hollin's house, I had found Annalie's hidden quarters on the third floor.

But most of the doors on the third floor here were locked. I rattled them all stubbornly, trying to force them open, until Erris pulled me away. "These are probably Ordorio's quarters. I'll bet he locks them to keep Violet from poking around with magic. I wouldn't worry about it. Although, if his wife is secretly alive up here… well, I could only wish." He motioned me back toward the staircase.

Not long after, we found the piano. It was not far from the dining room; we had just ventured in the wrong direction. Music has an uncanny ability to chase away misery, at least for a time.

"It's in tune too," Erris said. "Whoever Ordorio is, I could kiss him."

"That wouldn't be fair. You haven't even kissed me yet."

He smiled slightly, which wasn't really the response I yearned for, and left me feeling silly for attempting flirtation.

He played a few notes. "How about it, Nim? ‘In Springtime Blooms the Rose'?"

I laughed. "Anything but that!" That had been one of the only songs he could play when he was stiff clockwork trapped at a piano, and it was hardly cheerful under any circumstance, about a man who goes to war, leaves his love behind, and never returns.

"I should learn to play the songs that you know from your home," Erris said.

"It seems we have all winter. I can teach some of them to you."

He played a soft little tune, his long fingers light across the keys. I sat on the edge of the piano bench, like I used to when he was trapped. I loved to watch his hands move freely.

We had fallen in love without being able to say much to each other. I think it was still hard for him to say the things in his heart. Jokes came easier. But he could speak through the piano, even now. His song remained slow, and it grew more melancholy. It could be that I ascribed things to the music that he didn't mean, but I didn't think so. I heard his regret that things had gone this way for him and for us. I heard him miss his family. I heard his desperation and his fear.

If he would share all of this with me, it couldn't be hopeless for us. Not quite.

He began to sing quietly in another language, the foreign syllables rolling soft from his tongue. The notes sounded like winter, beautiful but cold. And then he sang,

When winter comes, birds fly home

When winter comes, birds fly home

The soil sleeps

The spirit rests

When winter comes,

The birds go to their nests

And we fly home

To those who we love best.

He stopped. "I'm winding down," he said. "Time for bed."

We stood. "Good night."

He left without waiting for me, without lantern light. I did not go to bed right away, but sat at the piano for long moments, my mind full of equal parts waking dreams and nightmares.

TA-DAA!

And there you have it. Credit to TheBookRatMisty and Libby Blog.