Young Adult
Title: Talented
Author: Sophie
Davis
Date Published: January
2012
Synopsis:
Talia Lyons is Talented. She possesses the
ability to read the minds of others and manipulate their thoughts. Ever
since she witnessed the brutal murders of her parents, Talia has spent her life
honing her abilities, with her heart set on vengeance. Now she is poised
to face the man responsible, but duplicity causes Talia to doubt herself and
her powers. In the wake of this betrayal, Talia turns to a boy who can
mimic her Talents, a boy who truly understands her inner turmoil. But
even he can’t help Talia when she’s forced to choose between saving herself or
avenging the lives of her parents.
Author
Bio:
Sophie
moved to Washington, D.C. after graduating from Penn State University to pursue
a career in the Sciences. After deciding to actually write down one of
the stories she makes up in her head, Sophie began the long journey towards her
first full-length novel, Talented. Caged is her second novel, and the
second in the Talented Saga. When Sophie isn't hunched over her computer,
she can be found shopping in Georgetown, running in Rock Creek Park, or at the
local dive bars in her Columbia Heights Neighborhood.
Website
Twitter:
@SophieDavisBook
Links to purchase:
B&N
Amazon
Sony
IPad
Smashwords
Excerpt:
My parents’
deaths had been quick. One cold
metal bullet to the side of my father’s head was all it took to steal the life
of the man whose lap I curled up in every night before bed so he could tell me
a story; the man who brought me cold milk and warm cinnamon sugar cookies when
I had nightmares; the man whose warm, dark brown eyes and toothy smile lit up
the room every time my mother walked in.
My poor
mother, she never stood a chance.
Before she could even reach my father, a man in black grabbed her from
behind. With one flick of his
wrist, a gaping wound appeared across her throat. The man in black tossed her carelessly next to my father’s
crumpled form, like she was trash.
I was
murderous. The feelings
overwhelmed me, stirring in my stomach and rising like bile in my throat;
overwhelmed me. Then the horrible,
high-pitched shrieking started; it filled my ears, suffocating all of the
coherent thoughts in my brain.
I am still
not sure if it was the cold, calculated murder of my father, or the careless
disposal of my mother – probably both – but I felt something inside of me
snap. One minute, I was hiding in
the closet with the silk of my mother’s long dresses pulled tight around my
face, like curtains trying to block out the brutal scene in the bedroom. The next, I was sitting in the outer
room of our hotel suite, surrounded by broken furniture, shattered glass, and
the bodies of the men in black.
They were all dead.
The blonde
man carried a large gun slung over one shoulder, and several smaller ones were
tucked at his waist. An entire
team of men clamored through the doorway after him. He held up one of his hands, indicating for the men to stay
back. He approached me slowly,
hesitantly. He was greater than an
arms distance away when he tentatively extended one of his large, gloved hands
toward me; I had seen people do the same thing with wounded animals.
“Natalia?”
he asked in a soft voice. I
couldn’t find the energy to even nod my head, I just stared blankly. “Natalia,” he repeated. “My name is Danbury McDonough. Do you remember me? I’m friends with your daddy.” I rewarded him with another of my blank
stares. “Natalia, are you
hurt?” He took my silence as an
indication that I was not.
He placed me in the back seat of the waiting vehicle. I curled into a
ball as he covered me with dry blankets.
My body and mind were numb, impervious to the rain and cold. He tucked the red and black fabric
under my chin. I was vaguely aware
that the material was itchy against my skin, but I didn’t move it away.
I could
hear the soft ping of the raindrops hitting the metal roof of the car, keeping
perfect time with the tears leaking on to the soft leather seat and pooling
underneath my cheek. I tried to
concentrate on the noise instead of the slideshow of my parents’ deaths playing
on the inside of my eyelids. I was
convinced that the images, now seared into my conscious, would never fade. The feelings I’d had in the closet were
now gone, leaving me empty and hollow and tired – so tired. I closed my swollen eyes and willed my
own mind blank.
