MY BOOKS
clouds

Welcome to my bookshelf!

Please feel free to browse my books, click the buttons to see more about them, or read the excerpts at the bottom of the page. Like a library, I love having people hanging out in my "bookshelves". You can also get samplers of all my books through Amazon Kindle (available to read with their free kindle app) by clicking any of the "learn more or buy" options.

Fire Rain Chronicles Full Set

$50 plus shipping

How do you fight an enemy who slips passed your radars, is undetected by your satellites and concealed from your scouts?

Turn the tables. Develop your own secret weapon; one just as invisible to them as they are to you. Only this weapon isn’t made of gears and wires. It’s not moving pieces and a quick plug in to recharge. 

This weapon breathes.

Genre: Young Adult; SciFi; Fantasy. Age Range: 12+ (no sexual content, no swearing, limited mild violence)

The Whispers of White Duology

$40 plus shipping

Emma White is the most dangerous weapon the world has ever seen.
She’s not a child; she’s a hurricane, an earthquake, a force of nature. She’s been trained as the world’s most deadly assassin – capable of stopping and starting wars as easily as others breathe. Under her skin crackles the type of power that most people only ever dream about.
 
And she doesn’t remember any of it.

Genre: Young Adult; Contemporary; Poetical. Themes: PTSD, abuse, anxiety. Age Range: 16+ (no sexual content or language. Some violent themes but no graphic descriptions.)

Request Signed Copies

$18-$25 per book plus shipping

You can request signed copies of any of my books (full sets, individual, etc.) as well as personalized copies. These will take a little longer to process and cost $4-$5 dollars extra than regular copies. If you'd like to buy personalized or signed copies, or ask for a $$ quote for specific signed books, you can make a request by pushing the "Request Signed Copies" button and filling out the form.

Excerpts

01 Azalei's Riders

 Jessica had to be at least a bit flattered. She didn’t know of anyone else in the Southern Countries considered enough of a security threat to require an entire fleet of military personnel as an escort. “Fleet,” of course, was a mild term. The unprecedented amount of young soldiers surrounding her could have passed as a small army anywhere else in the world, and taking a stroll through the streets of one of the most technologically advanced cities on the globe was attracting more than a little attention. Above them, shimmering, metal dragon-design transports (D-Trans, as the mass population called them) had screeched to a halt at an intersection and people were leaning out of the windows above the dragons’ glimmering metal wings to gape at the sight below them.


02 Azalei's Strategy

“It doesn’t matter if you are good or if you are evil. If you did it for the right reasons or not. In the end, when all this is said and done, and you’ve saved the world, you will go back to doing what you do, and I will go back to doing what I do. And when that happens…”

Despite herself, her fist balled. Her cracked knuckles burned with the movement and she took a slow breath and shook her head.

“When it does, you will be the politician who needs me dead. For the greater good, you’ll think, and it will be justified. And when I am dead, when I am silenced for good, and when my body holds one final scar, you’ll say to yourself that you’re the hero: just saving the world one more time.”

03 Azalei's Fall

“Don’t flatter yourself, child. I don’t love you anymore – I haven’t in a very long time."

Azalei shook her head, unmoved by the venom in his tone, by the twisted light in his gaze. It only confirmed her suspicion, again and again. “Love and hate is a very thin line. Because you can only really, honestly hate someone if you care – if some part of you, no matter how deeply buried, cares how that person acts towards you, how that person views you, if that person loves you and is proud of you. You hate me, Adrian, because I’m the only one you can’t stop caring about. That’s the problem with hate, isn’t it? It’s too intimate for strangers.”

04 Echoes

It was cold and wet, the kind of day that made Emma think that the sky’s heart had been broken by the moon. Like nature itself was falling to pieces, losing all control, and sobbing. If she closed her eyes for too long, she could almost feel the sadness soaking into the ground around her feet. And Emma thought then, standing in the sky’s tears and the world’s brokenness, that maybe it was crying for her. Perhaps, just this once, it would be okay if something did, because it wasn’t a person. Because its heartbrokenness wouldn’t break anything else, and no one would know. No one but her ghost-self and the sky.

The sky-tears landed on her own lashes and brushed down her painted cheeks. It was an odd sensation, like she was crying for the pain, even though she wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t. Emma never cried.

But perhaps the sky was helping her. Maybe it was crying for the both of them. The way two people held hands, or two people hugged, because you had to have two to do it. 

05 Mirage

“No.”

The word slipped from between Emma’s lips unbidden. It burst out of her throat on a breath that was too sudden and too harsh to just be a breath. It stabbed its way into her chest like a piece of twisted metal, spearing its way into her heart.

And then she was breaking, cracking along the seams like a pebble thrown at a window. Crack-crack-cracking apart like a smashed peanut under someone’s boot. She was fragmented pieces, fractured shards of glass, broken peanut shell bits. Because-

Because-

They took him. They took him.

She should have been here.
She should have stopped them. 
She had promised she’d stop them.

But she'd failed him instead.

06  Copyright

Copyright © 2019 by Miranda Marie

All rights reserved. No part of these excerpts or books may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system—other than for review purposes—without written permission from the author.

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