Sovereign Hope

By Frankie Rose

I am prophesied.

My coming has been awaited for hundreds of years.

I am destined to end the tyranny of the Soul Reavers.

To do so I must die.

I have a life most eighteen year olds would kill for... No mom hanging around to embarrass me in front of my friends, telling me who I can and can't date; my own house, with no one to dictate what I should do and when.

Ideal, right?

It would be if my mom had simply jetted off to Cabo for the summer. Instead, she is missing- the disappeared off the face of the planet kind of missing. Plus the only boy showing up at my house isn't trying to date me. He's trying to save my life, and he's none too happy about it.

Immortal Reavers, ancient prophecies and soul toting sidekicks abound, my mission to find my mother descends into chaos, plunging me into an unknown world where even the simplest of goals-- stay alive, stay safe-- seem impossible. Daniel and his friends stand between me and certain death, but can I allow him to help me? Can I allow him to risk my life in order to save it, and can I risk my heart to love him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Rose
• Release date: Jan 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311357632

Frankie Rose

Frankie Rose is a British expat, who is currently enjoying the perks of living in Australia- her awesome husband, sunshine, and vitamin D. She spends her time creating fictional universes in which the guy sometimes gets the girl, the heros occasionally die, and the endings aren't always happy. But they usually are.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Figueroa

The thing about car chases is this: if you’re traveling through downtown LA at lunchtime, you can forget about them.  In that kind of traffic, all you can hope to have in the way of a highway pursuit is a crawling affair where the object of the chase has plenty of time to make a distress call. Phone in hand, I was inching my way down Figueroa with a freak rainstorm pelting the world beyond the windscreen into obscurity when my best friend, Tessa Kennedy, finally picked up.

Did you know there’s a sale on at Hillman’s? My mom’s buying me the cutest—

Tess, I’m being followed, I hissed. I was alone in the truck, but it seemed necessary to keep my voice down all the same.

A weary sigh rattled down the phone. Are you sure? Is it another hallucination?

A growl built in the back of my throat. Nope. Definitely real. This car was parked outside my front door this morning and I saw it again when I left the dentist’s. I thought I was imagining things but the same car is following me, now, I swear.

Is that Farley? Mrs. Kennedy asked in the background. Tell her I said hello. We’re all thinking of Moira.

Hey, my mom said—

Yeah, I heard. Tell her thanks. Tess wasn’t taking this seriously at all. I could still see the murky outline of the black 1970s Dodge Charger two cars back, making every turn I did, following me from lane to lane. Can you meet me?

Sure, I can, Farley. What else are friends for but swooping in to the rescue when their girlfriends are being stalked by creepy strangers? But listen, if you really are worried shouldn’t you just call Detective Miller?

I gritted my teeth. Yes, but I’m not his favorite person right now. He thinks I’m harassing him. He probably wouldn’t even take my call.

Tess sighed again, a sigh usually accompanied by a crinkled expression of concern that could practically be seen over the phone. I thought you said you weren’t going to call him anymore? she said. You know what they say about the boy who cried wolf.

"This is not the same! My mom is missing. She’s been missing for six months. I think I have a right to know where they’re at in their investig— I broke off.  Never mind. I’m by the Friday Morning Club. How soon can you get here?"

Tess arranged to meet me twenty minutes later in the Staples Center parking lot, and I hung up the phone, feeling no better for having spoken to her. The rain was coming down even harder now, and I could barely see anything at all, just the beading streaks of rainwater that caught and refracted the light like a thousand spent fireworks, spiralling and twinkling to the earth in a satisfied sigh.

I was staring into the rear view, trying to catch a glimpse of the Dodge again, when the big black SUV in front of me jolted to a halt. My scruffy, black Chuck Taylors hit the brakes but not quick enough, and my truck rammed straight into the back of it.

Oh. Crap.

The metallic crunch spoke of thousands of dollars worth of damage. I whimpered and slumped over the steering wheel. Had they noticed? Of course they had. A thin grey smoke rose out from under the hood of the truck. Seemed like the force with which I’d slammed into their expensive-looking sports vehicle must have been pretty considerable. I spun around in my seat, looking to see if any of the other stationary motorists were staring. I couldn’t see anyone. My stomach still twisted when I looked in the rearview, though. The Dodge wasn’t two cars back anymore. It was right behind me.

No, no, no—

A sharp rap at the window startled me even further, and my blood rushed in a charge from my head to my feet. I blinked and then blinked again, but the tall figure at the window didn’t appear to be going anywhere.

It’s really wet out here, y’know, came a muffled voice from the other side of the glass. Are you going to ignore me for much longer?

Um, yeah! I thought. But I couldn’t. He obviously wanted my insurance details. I buzzed the electric window down and cringed at the guy standing on the road. Tall, black long-sleeved t-shirt that hid half his hands, black jeans—I couldn’t see his shoes—black hair that curled in a wet mess around his face, sticking to his skin. His strong jaw line was clenched tight, and a pair of startlingly cool green eyes picked me apart with scientific precision. There was something fierce and angry about them that made me tremble a little. Fate was a bitch. He was far too good-looking to be someone I’d just crashed into.

Look, I’m really sorry. It’s this weather. I’ve never driven in the rain. I have my insurance card here somewhere… I rifled in the leather messenger bag I usually used for school, but since St. Jude’s was on break it was now filled with magazines and a stack of dog-eared Missing Person posters. It’s here, I know it is.

I don’t want your insurance card.

I ignored him and continued rifling. Burying my head in my bag was way safer than facing him. I would probably start stammering. He looked like some unnaturally perfect Calvin Klein model with his shirt clinging to him like that. I took the stack of posters out of my bag so I could see better. Here it is.

I held out the laminated card and he took it from me, all the while piercing me with those freakishly green eyes. He didn’t even look at the card. It disappeared into his back pocket. Do you know someone’s following you? His voice was even, yet dangerously sharp.

I swallowed. Uh…yeah, actually. I— I looked behind me. The driver’s door of the Dodge yawned open in the rain. I looked back at the guy who was still fixed on me, clenching his jaw, and a spark of panic blossomed in my chest. I didn’t crash into you, did I?

He slowly shook his head.

Shit.

I scrambled for the automatic door lock. The resounding thunk that echoed around the car declared the doors were all now locked, but the guy simply reached in through the window and opened my door from the inside.

He stood there, pale and stark in his black clothing, totally drenched from the rain. His gaze never wavered from mine; his fists had turned white, he was clenching them so hard. You should come with me.

What?! I’m not going anywhere with you!

You really should.

And why would I do that? You just told me you’re following me!

"No, I didn’t. I said someone was following you. I was following them."

I scowled and reached for the door handle, but he took hold of the doorframe and held onto it fast. Believe me, he said. "You really want to come with me."

My mom always used to say stubborn was my middle name. If anything, her disappearance had only made me more so. You still haven’t told me why.

Because, he said, pointing to the pile of Missing posters that bore my mother’s smiling photograph sitting on the front seat, you’re Moira Hope’s daughter. Plus I can only hold them off for so long.

I looked at the picture of my mom—the same black hair, but shorter and a little wavy in comparison to my own. The eyes that stared back at me were a cool blue, a few degrees warmer than my almost silver ones.  That was all it took. My indignation vanished like smoke.

How do you know my mother?

I don’t.

Don’t lie! If you know anything about her— I halted, mid-breakdown. The SUV in front of us was trying to reverse. The guy shot the other vehicle a disgruntled glance and seemed to focus on it. A grating metal screech cut through the air, and the SUV started to slide across the street. The wheels weren’t moving, and yet it somehow jammed itself sideways in between two lanes of traffic. It was like an invisible hand had shoved it in between the other vehicles. On either side, people were screaming and trying to climb out of the windows of their cars.

Listen! I’ve been keeping their doors locked but I can’t do it forever. You have about five seconds.

Five seconds before what?

"Before… urgh, before that!"

The rear doors to the SUV swung open, and three huge men in long coats dropped down into the rain. Definitely thugs. Only thugs wore trench coats. One of them had a gnarled scar that ran the length of his face from his temple to his jaw, while the other two looked like a pair or Russian twins. All three were headed our way.

"They’re the ones who were following you," he said.

What do they want?

The guy gave me a hard look. You won’t have to find out if you come with me.

The other men were close enough to see they were carrying weapons in their hands. The glint of a wet blade. The flash of silver metal. There was nothing in Guy-In-Black’s hands. He was holding one out to me, and a tiny pool of water was gathering in his open palm.

Promise not to kill me?

A razor-sharp smile spread across his face. That wasn’t a good sign. Will you at least try?

He arched an eyebrow. I can try.

The next few minutes flashed by in a blur. I took his hand and stepped down from the truck, only to have him pull me to the ground.  A burst of blue flame ripped through the rain, turning it to smoke before the drops could fall to the concrete. The truck’s open door buffered me from the blast. The guy at my side tipped his head back and started to laugh.

What the hell?

He ignored me. The heat seared at my skin, and loud tinging sounds rattled around the inside of the truck. The flames kept coming and coming, the sound roaring in my ears. The smell of sulphur and burning hair surrounded us. Car alarms began wailing up and down the stretch of road, and frightened people dashed in every direction, abandoning their cars to flee from the unfolding chaos.

Wait here. I’ll be right back. The guy got to his feet, standing directly in the path of the blue flame. A scream ripped free from my throat. He looked down at me, perplexed, the flames licking at his skin and clothes. I waited. I waited for him to start burning, for his clothes to ignite in a ball of blue fire.  Nothing happened. He twisted his hand through the roaring blaze that jetted around him, as though toying with the flow of it, and gave me a crooked smile.

Like I said. I’ll be right back.

I hunkered down closer to the ground, sweat breaking out across my brow. How could he have borne that heat? How had it not seared his skin right off? I was only left wondering for a moment, though. A second after he disappeared, the stream of fire ended without warning. I looked up from my hunched position to see an old woman peering at me out of the car window opposite. She gave me a disparaging look and shook her head, as though this were all somehow my fault.

The sounds of a fight broke out a few feet away. I ignored the foul look the old lady cut me and stood up. The guy was locked in a wrestling match on the ground with one of the Russian twins. Scar-face and the other twin stood with their backs to me, apparently watching to see if their comrade could handle him on his own. Guy-In-Black twisted beneath the bulk of the larger man and somehow wrapped his leg around his neck. Tightening his chokehold, he squeezed until the twin turned a frightening shade of red, then blue, and then passed out altogether.

At this point it became obvious to the other guys that their friend wasn’t getting back up. Both Scar-face and the other Russian leapt forward and fell upon the black-clad guy still lying on the ground. He was hidden from view for a second before a strange pulse distorted the air, and then the attackers flew backwards. They landed with a bone crunching thump on the scorched concrete. Mr. I-Think-You-Should-Come-With-Me jumped to his feet and froze when he saw me.

Forget about waiting, he yelled. Run!

His command seemed to remind the other men of my presence. The remaining Russian and Scar-face were rolling onto their fronts in an attempt to reach me when the guy in black lunged forward. I wanted to run but I couldn’t. The sight of my unlikely rescuer froze me to the spot. The usual signs that preceded a hallucination—the heady, overpowering floral smell, like rotting lilies, or a burnt, metallic taste in my mouth—weren’t present, but there was no way any of this could be real.

His hands… his hands were alight. The white-blue glow coming off them was so bright I had to look away, and when I closed my eyelids, the echo of the burning brightness swam and twisted before my eyes. It pushed down against my defences, threading inquisitive fingers into my mind—a sensation so intrusive I physically clawed at my head in order to push it away. It ended in an instant, but the violated feeling set over me like unbreakable cement. The air crackled around me as I stepped back, and the truck’s charred metal sang like it was supercharged with electricity.

"Farley! Run!"

This time I didn’t hesitate. By the time my vision recovered, I’d already run a hundred feet, weaving blindly between the empty cars and trucks and buses. I’d never run so fast in my life, and yet it still didn’t feel fast enough.

I only paused when a thunderous boom ripped high above the sirens and the shouting. A hasty glance behind me revealed a cloud of black smoke spiraling upwards in the rain, and flames, the regular orange and yellow kind, roaring skywards above the roofs of the trapped cars. An undeniable, sinking certainty told me that it was coming from my truck. 

Correction.

My mom’s truck.

******

I ran into the Staples Centre car lot to find Tess had gotten out of her sedan and was pacing back and forth in the rain with her arms folded across her chest. She would have been immediately visible in a crowd twice the size. Her crazy, curly Afro was a dead giveaway. She was half Egyptian, and her golden skin shone in the flat afternoon light. When I reached her, Tess pinned me under suspicious eyes the color of an unsettled ocean, blue one minute, green the next.

What the…? she gasped. Tess’ horror was understandable. I looked like a drowned rat. My hair had teased free of its twist and was plastered to my skin, and my clothes…Urgh. My clothes. My jeans were streaked black, and my white cotton shirt was filthy and ripped, destroyed beyond repair. There were probably a few smudges of blood underneath all that dirt and oil, but after that light coming off the guy’s hands my eyes didn’t seem to be processing color properly.

I hooked Tess by the arm and pulled her backwards through the crowds of people gathering to watch the fire catch along the length of Figueroa. Told you.

Told me what? Tess cried.

"I told you I was being followed."

CHAPTER TWO

Thrown to the Wolves

I was eight years old the first time I saw something I shouldn’t have. My mom was hanging out the laundry. It was a balmy summer afternoon, and the tang of brine was lingering on the air—an imagined hint of the ocean, seeing as the real thing was miles away.

I was playing in the long grass off the field at the back of the house when I noticed the ripples of heat shimmering in the air. Behind the snapping white sheets on the line, all I could make out was my mom’s silhouette, moving from basket to line and back again. Even at eight I knew a shadow shouldn’t look like that. Twisted fingers of something bad were wreathed around my mom’s form, licking towards the sky, ravenous and hungry.

When I screamed, my mom appeared in a second, terrified something had happened to me. The sight still haunted me: my mother, ablaze, hair nothing more than blackened stubble against her head, small scraps of her blue and white striped dress swirling above her into the air. An acrid smoke twisting upward from her scorched limbs.

And none of it had been real.

Doctor Reynolds became a regular fixture after that. He suspected the brightness of the sun had affected my vision and diagnosed me as suffering from migraine with aura. That meant my sight might go haywire if I got a headache. No one seemed to listen to me when I told them that my sight hadn’t just gone weird, though—that my mom had actually been on fire.

They hadn’t listened afterwards, either, when I told them about the explosions I saw in the sky from time to time, or when the neighbor’s cat turned up without its skin. Which was often. Eventually I learned to keep my mouth shut. It was easier to lock myself away in my room and pretend that they were right than face the possibility that I might actually be losing my mind. Sometimes, I liked to think my episodes were totally normal, a hereditary defect passed down by my father. It was a convenient lie I told myself, given that my father had died in a car crash before I was born and wasn’t around to deny it.

It had been that way for the last ten years, and now, at eighteen, I was still no closer to understanding what was wrong with me. Still no less scared.

The echo of that emotion resounded through me as Tess pulled into my driveway. This was different. Imagining my mother on fire was one thing, but having people, real people, coming after me for no apparent reason, left me on edge and feeling significantly out of my depth.

Here we are. Home, safe and sound, Tess said in a singsong voice.

Home was a white Colonial with sunshine-yellow shutters framing the windows, traditional, and perhaps a little more run-down than the neighbors would have liked. Completely different from their white stucco Spanish villas with heated pools out back. I turned from staring numbly out of the window and gave Tess a doubtful look.

I don’t know about safe. That Dodge was parked on the corner this morning.

It did feel better being back in Monterey Hills, though, and Figueroa was far, far away. All the same, I knew it was a false sense of security, like running to hide in your bed when your house is being robbed.

I opened the front door, for once not feeling my stomach knot as I waited for my mother to call out. I should have been used to coming home to an empty house by now, but it was still hard. Things might have been different, of course; I could have been taken into foster care. Social services hadn’t exactly been pleased with the idea of me living alone after all, but I’d made it perfectly clear I would make my foster parents’ lives hell if I had to. There was no way I was going to leave the house I’d grown up in, and my eighteenth birthday had been on the horizon anyway, so they’d agreed to let me live alone so long as I kept up with school.

Once inside the house, I triple-checked that the door was locked and paused at the window, peering anxiously up and down the street.

Come on, there’s no one there. You want coffee? Tess asked.

Yeah, sure, why not? I’m only on the brink of a nervous breakdown. I can’t imagine why caffeine wouldn’t help this situation.

We walked through to the kitchen. I sank down onto a stool at the breakfast bar where me and my mom had completed the New York Times crossword every Sunday as a ritual.

The rain had finally stopped, and the late afternoon sunlight slanted through the kitchen blinds, stacking long, thin strips of cool yellow over the linoleum floor and up the opposite wall. It barcoded Tess as she shifted around the open kitchen, preparing the coffee.

You’ve got messages, she said, gesturing to the answering machine at my elbow. It was true. The red light blipped malevolently at me. Getting voicemail was usually exciting; there was always a glimmer of hope that it might be from my mom. Not today, though. There was only one person who would be leaving me messages today. I braced myself and hit the play button.

Farley, this is Detective Miller. Just calling to check in, make sure everything’s okay. Oh, also…do you have any thoughts as to why the charred carcass of your Toyota Tacoma might have been abandoned downtown this afternoon? If you could call me when you get this message, that would be great.

The red light flashed, indicating that there were more messages to follow, but I hit the delete button anyway. They would all be from Miller, and I hadn’t come up with anything good to tell him yet. Spontaneous combustion probably wasn’t going to cut it. In truth, what I really wanted to say was that the truck had been stolen and deny being there at all. But there had been far too many people out on the street, not to mention that sour-looking old bat who had gotten a good look at me. She had probably already given a statement confirming that I was the root cause of the afternoon’s breakdown in civilization, and yes, I had last been spotted fleeing the scene like a criminal. So what was I supposed to say to Miller? Even explaining it to Tess, who was normally so good at accepting all the weird, hallucination-related crazy that often invaded my life, was proving difficult.

Start over, she demanded, pouring hot coffee into mugs for the both of us. "I still don’t get it. The guy who saved you was hot?"

Typical. She would get stuck on that point. Yeah, but—

Did you get his number?

Tess! This is serious. I accepted the mug she offered out to me. I have to think of something to tell Miller.

I only have one suggestion. You’re probably not going to like it, though.

Tess’ suggestions were rarely likeable. They usually involved trawling the local malls for cute guys to stare at, or purchasing fake IDs from scary weed dealers. Just hit me. Even a bad suggestion was a suggestion, after all, and at this stage I was willing to consider anything.

Tell the truth.

Anything but that. I placed the coffee mug down slowly and gave my friend a dry stare. No. Way.

Tess rolled her eyes. Look. You were driving down Figueroa, for crying out loud. It was packed with people. And those big trucks? Y’know, the big fire-engine-red ones? Well, I hate to break this to you but they were, indeed, fire engines. Half of LA’s emergency services probably saw you down there. It’s better that you tell him the truth than make up something even more unbelievable.

Tess did have a point, but there was just no way Detective Miller was going to buy that I was attacked by three guys in an SUV, that I was saved by another stranger (who had also been following me, as far as I could tell), and that he had some sort of freakish power that turned his hands into burning white light. He was more likely to believe disgruntled aliens incinerated the truck. I collapsed face first on the counter. Can’t you think of something else?

Nope. 

I groaned, but the outlandish truth-telling concept was prevented from taking any real shape when Tess’ phone rang. She shot me a furtive look. Sorry. I have to take this. She slipped out of the back door to stand in the yard with her coffee mug steaming in the brisk air.

My own coffee was making my stomach churn. I got up and poured myself a glass of water. I paced the kitchen for a moment and then stalked to the hallway, pausing to study the jigsaw puzzle of photo frames that hung on the wall by the front door. There were at least thirty, ranging in size from the tiny heart-shaped frames that used to hang off the Christmas tree when I was a kid, to the largest—a square, silver frame, easily the length of my arms stretched wide. It was a black and white picture of my mom cradling me in her arms, just a few days old. My mom wore a dazed expression on her face, that mixture of astonishment and confusion that you saw on most new mothers.

I stood with the glass sweating in my hand, studying the pictures from our annual summer trips up the coast, to Disneyland, New York, Knott’s Berry Farm, elementary and high school, realizing that in every single picture my mom bore some degree of that same expression, mixed with a quiet pride.

At that moment my fragile grasp on my emotions began to waver. Even on a good day, the panic constantly roiling away just below the surface was difficult to contain. On bad days, it broke through in bursts that threatened to smash my resolve into dust. Today was a bad day. My mother was gone. Not just disappeared on an unplanned vacation kind of gone, or Off to the store, be back in five kind of gone. She had just left work one day in the middle of the afternoon and had never come back. No note. No phone call. Not even an email.

The worry was exhausting. And after the events of today, looking at those photos was enough to tip the scales between coping and crashing. All my fears came rushing down in an unexpected wave of alarm that made my head spin.

Where was my mom?

Was she safe?

Was she hurt?

Had someone taken her?

But the most terrifying of all, the one question I was usually too scared to even form in my mind:

Was she dead?

The sound of the back door snicking closed brought the hallway back into focus, a little too sharp and too bright. I clenched my jaw and dug deep into my reserves, putting my I’m okay face back on like a tired, worn coat.

Back in the kitchen, Tess had returned to her chair and was beaming from ear to ear. She took the glass out of my hand and drained it in one.

Whew! Thanks. How did you know I needed that?

Just considerate, I guess. What’s up with your face? It’s doing something weird.

Tess shot me a look that would curdle milk and poked her tongue out. I’m just happy, that’s all.

You’re happy? That meant trouble. That meant a guy. It always did. I gave her The Look. Who is he?

His name’s Oliver. We’ve been on four dates. He’s perfect. A dreamy look settled on her face, and she stared off into the distance as though imagining the rest of her life arranged around the perfection that was this new Oliver. I elbowed her. 

Four dates and you haven’t mentioned him once?

I just wanted to make sure he was really interested. He’s from Whiteacre.

Oh. That explained a lot. Guys from Whiteacre were always ‘slumming it’ with girls from St. Jude’s on the school breaks. They thought they were so much better than everyone else just because their annual fees alone were enough to purchase an

Reviews for Sovereign Hope

[vanyadrum · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The author, Frankie Rose, was very nice, letting me review her book. I must say that I didn't quite know what to expect of it, but it turned to be an interesting read. My rating is 3.5 stars, but due to known reasons I'm giving it 4.

What I liked:

There were several scenes that were pretty intense and action packed, and I felt drawn to them. They felt realistic, with all the gore and bloodshed. I also enjoyed the hot romantic scene, though I felt like there should've been more than one of those ;) Daniel's chapters felt different, as they should've, since a different character was narrating, and I found them very well structured and appealing.

What I didn't like:

There were some scenes that lacked any feeling at all. They seemed to stretch on and on, and that felt kind of annoying. I supposed they were supposed to build anticipation, but all they accomplished was making me want to skip ahead. The last chapter should've held some passion, but there was none. And the induced coldness between the characters was just weird. Some lines felt forced and unrealistic. There were several places where I noticed inconsistencies - for example, Farley - the lead female character - saw a white painted building and the color of the sand (red), during a particularly dark night, just before saying that she was completely night blind. There were other places like this one, but I don't remember them off the top of my head.

The story itself:

It was a nice concept, and I think it was sort of unique - at least I haven't read anything quite like it. Of course, there were the good guys and the bad guys, and those in between. There was impossible love, and then some super powers. But it was strung differently, and I liked that. I didn't quite understand whether the people from the Quarters were humans or something different. And why were there immortals in the first place... That bit was sort of confusing.

The characters:

*Farley was the lead female character, who was supposed to be a part of this very important prophesy. I honestly expected her to have some special powers of key importance, and I kept waiting for them to manifest. Alas, they never did - unless that weird bit in the end could be counted. Sometimes Farley sounded stiff and vain and completely out of character, and that really bothered me. After all, the reader counts on the characters having depth and layered personalities. I wasn't really impressed with this girl.

*Daniel was the mysterious guy, who was grumpy and rude just because he didn't want to show his love. Sure, there was the oath he swore to stay away from Farley, but it was pretty obvious that that won't work out. There was some big mystery around those two, which never came out. Were they supposed to be together? Were they not? At any rate, Daniel was hot and full of internal conflicts, and that made him even hotter. Sometimes his indecision bugged me to death, and I wanted to slap him senseless. But other than that, he was a nice guy.

*Agatha was one of the characters we didn't know much about. She was just there. Period. No back story. Sure, she was nice and smart and a kick-ass heroine, but still - it would've been nice to know more about her.

The rest of the characters weren't all that prominent, though they all played their assigned roles. I guess I'd love to learn more about Kayden - he's a delicious mystery.

[bookswithbite · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Let me begin by saying that I really liked this book. It's had a good plot that kept me intrigued and hooked till the end. Still, I felt like there was that missing, "umph" in the book.You get me? Now, lets talk about this banging plot. I like it. I mean, I really like it!! This is one of those books that has a fresh plot that I never read before. Usually plots are all the same and over done. Not this one. Instead, it's inviting. After the first chapter, I was intrigued to keep reading. I enjoyed how the author slowly build-up the mysteriousness of the story. I am a person who loves secrets and loves it when the main character is out of the loop as well. For me, it makes it more enjoyable to see the surprise in the characters face knowing that I knew all along. Hehe!The love interest is awesome. I love a tall, dark, handsome man who is secretive left and right. That is my calling card right there. I could do nothing but follow Daniel to the ends of the earth just to know exactly who he is and what he is hiding. The main thing you need to know is that I am totally smitten with Daniel.Now, the gripe. The only thing I felt I couldn't really grasp is that there is so much being thrown at the reader at once. For me, this author gave away too much information instead of withholding it and spreading it through out the series. Sometimes, it felt as if it was too much. It was," WHAM! BAM! WOW!" You know? I think it would have captured the reader more if there wasn't so much going on. Anywhoo, that just how I feel. Maybe you like that type of writing style.Sovereign Hope is a great book! With a whole new aspect to souls and dimensions, I was taken away with it. It's gritty and dark, yet it holds the reader with much intensity. Sovereign Hope is exciting and with a bigger plot that I ever could imagine.

[khal_khaleesi · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wow, wow, wow!!! I. Absolutely. Loved. This. Book! I won't say it reeled me in on the first page, but by the third page, I had a hard time putting this book down.

I loved the characters as well especially Farley, Agatha, and Daniel. I felt they were all well developed characters.

Yes, there is a bit of a love story going on but it doesn't take over the whole book which is nice. It's more of a backstory. There was also plenty of action.

This is definitely one of my favourite reads of forever! I'd definitely recommend this book. I can't wait until the second in the series comes out.

Frankie Rose has done an amazing job!!! Haven't read a book this good in ages =D

[celeste.harrington · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.5 stars

The Book Hookup

**This book was given to The Book Hookup by the author, but that did not influence the review in any way.**

Initial thoughts:
Celeste: Oooh, action! But I want to know what is going on. Oooh, romance. Who is the hot guy with all that chemistry with Farley?

Christina: Oooh, pretty cover! (My cover-loving heart rejoices!) Immediately the action began which had me excited because I like fast paced stories, but I ended up feeling a little lost in all the hustle and bustle. I had to keep reading, though, because this hero is rather intriguing- mysterious, dark, handsome… oh yes.

The story:
Celeste: We only got bits and pieces as we went along. I always enjoy a little mystery. Farley’s mother disappeared six months ago and now she is being chased down. The police don’t even seem to help or care. Right away I’m intrigued. It gets even more interesting when a gorgeous dark haired, muscles rippling green-eyed guy with a serious attitude saves her. Before I wanted to know, but now I NEED to know who was after her and why, and more importantly, who is this guy?!

Overall this story it is a steady build up with plenty of action. Although I was anxious for answers we only got information in a trickle…well done by the author because I kept turning the pages wanting more tidbits. In the end I think there were 2 sets of bad guys: the Reavers and the Quorum.

Christina: There’s a world below the one we know as our own, a city divided into four factions and those are all centered around the Tower, the place where the Soul Reavers rule. Reavers are an immortal race that gathers their power through consumption of another individual’s life force- their soul. Greedy and seeking the eternal high the comes with taking another person’s life, they’ll stop at nothing to make sure their bloodline flourishes and that they forever maintain dominance over the other inhabitants. They’re only true concern is an old prophecy that heralds of their demise, the birth of a female Reaver– which seems highly unlikely because for as long as the Reavers have been in existence, they’ve only ever produced male heirs– and a special talisman. Enter Farley Hope. Everything she thought she knew about her life is about to come to a dramatic halt, and it all begins with her mother’s disappearance and a boy named Daniel.

The romance:
Celeste: Most of the book I was thinking: I love this romance!! The sexual tension is fabulous and the immediate attraction is intense. Daniel is brooding, secretive and cocky. For example: the guitar strap quote. oh my oh my oh my. I really like Daniel. Then, about ¾ of the way through it went a teensy bit flat for me. It went from serious physical chemistry to professing love. I struggled with that in that it didn’t seem realistic. Well, maybe it is for teenagers and maybe because the whole situation was desperate? They went from restraining themselves to letting it all hang out there. However, maybe it’s all just set up for book 2, and while I still like them as a couple, I prefer the cocky Daniel over the sentimental one. Yes, I love the bad boy. :)

Christina: I wanted so much to like these two together, but their relationship felt a little forced and rushed. They were having these huge declarations of love and I felt like they had only just met. In Daniel’s case, I could almost excuse this because his circumstance was different, he’d watched her secretly for some time, but with Farley, it was a harder love to sell. However, I was a foolish teenager at one point in my life as well, so I understand how quickly we rush to label emotions.

The ending:
Celeste: It definitely got interesting, while it’s tied up enough to end in a good place, there is so much more to the story. What about Farley’s mom? I have a lot of theories there!

Christina: This is where the story progressed the most for me. I loved the addition of the Whytes, and the lore about how and why they were created. My heart was pounding in the last few pages, curious to how everything would end and in whose favor. I was still left with so many questions, but it also felt like the story was wrapped up neatly enough that I wasn’t left completely hanging.

Anything you didn’t love?
Celeste: While sometimes the plot was very clear, for example: the prophecy (it was great that the author repeated it so I didn’t have to go back), but other times I wasn’t sure what was going on and felt confused. Overall the story was good, but I definitely couldn’t always follow. Maybe it would have been easier if it had been in 1st person and not 3rd. However, I am super biased and just adore 1st person.

Christina: I completely agree. In some cases, mostly during the action sequences, the story was harder for me to follow who was doing what. I, too, was curious to whether the story would have flowed better had it been written in first person, but I didn’t enjoy getting to see snippets from the other characters.

Secondary characters:

-Tess-
Celeste: Is so predictable. A typical bff that you find in many YA books.
Christina: I actually quite enjoyed her. I think that was mostly because she reminded me of myself.

-Agatha-
Celeste: I liked her! She has been around for a while and seems loyal and honest.
Christina: I dug her. She could hold on to a secret, and I be damned if that’s not something I could appreciate. Plus, her mad driving skills sounded like fun. :)

-Oliver-
Celeste: He is dumb and lol.
Christina: Awww, I liked him, too. Anyone who picks love over duty/family (when they’re evil), wins me over.

-Elliot-
Celeste: Scary and I’m afraid of him!
Christina: Dude is creepy. *shudders*

-Aldan-
Celeste: Lovely!
Christina: Breath of fresh air! I want his ability, though. It be nice to (almost) literally travel to anywhere your brain can take you.

-Kayden-
Celeste: Hmmm… I want to know more!
Christina: I loved the sort of brotherly relationship he had with Daniel. I’m anxious to see how the story will go for him in the next book. So many questions with this one.

rec it?
Celeste: Yes, still good. I can’t wait to see what happens in the next book! Ms. Rose has a great series on her hands and I will definitely be reading book 2 :)

Christina: I would. While the beginning dragged a bit for me, it picked up soon and I really enjoyed the last half of the story. I think the author was definitely able to work through some of the kinks I saw in the first portion of the story. I’m looking forward to seeing how the story unfolds after this, seeing as several balances appear to have been upset by that climatic ending.

[storywings · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Sovereign Hope sucked me in for a curiosity driven rollercoaster ride.Farley doesn’t have a father, and now her mother, the only parent she has ever known is missing. When a strange boy saves her from an even stranger situation and a kind young woman tells her she’s in danger, Farley doesn’t have much choice anymore but to go with them and seek their aid.Only to have them tell her that her father is alive, wants to kill her, and she has to die to defeat both him and his evil kind, but they’re trying to work on the dying bit.Farley was a hard character for me to like, but she did keep the story going. She bordered on Darwin Award-esque stupidity a few times that ought to have gotten her killed if it weren’t for Daniel and Agatha watching her back and her obsession that she refused to admit to with Daniel was a little irritating at times but ultimately she moved the story along and it was because of her pestering attitude that we got the majority of the answers relating to the mysterious Reapers.Any of Farley’s faults are made up for by Daniel though. Dark, brooding and powerful – and old, which Farley couldn’t help but mention multiple times – Daniel acted tough and could back himself up, he talked the talk and walked the walk which made him entirely irresistible.The romance between Daniel and Farley really wasn’t believable for me, Daniel acted like he hated Farley and Farley couldn’t help herself; she just had to go back for more even though Daniel was being the typical brooding male lead in pushing Farley away to save her. The intense attraction between them I can understand but as is typical of YA romance they had to take it a little too far into the world of obsessiveness and possessiveness.It wasn’t until about half way through that Sovereign Hope really sucked me in to the point that I couldn’t put it down until I finished it, it’s when things really started heating up action wise, we moved away from the Farley/Daniel intense relationship that could never be situation and moved into the real people fighting and occasionally dying which had me flying through the pages.There were a couple of time jumps that were a little confusing but overall Rose’s writing was superb and kept me captivated throughout with her in-depth plot lines and intriguing sub-characters.Sovereign Hope was a fantastic debut novel and a great start to the Hope series, Farley’s growth toward the end and the continuation of the fight against the Reaver’s had me flying through it and I am eagerly awaiting the next in this series, Eternal Hope.Find this review at storywings.com