Title: Nowhere Train
Author: Allie Burke
Genre: New Adult, Paranormal Romance, Dystopian
Two-years post end-of-the-world, all Jetilyn Fournier wants to do is learn to navigate a world that is no longer her own. Surviving zombies feels easy, though, compared to dealing with her rocky relationship with her best friend, the death of her mother, her sister’s faux happiness, and her father’s sudden desire to speak, after decades of silence. Saving herself is not even something she can fit in at the moment. Enter Devlin Shea: for all intents and purposes, a mortal enemy. Though she should hate him instantly upon contact, she doesn’t, and before she knows it, Jett has another life to save. Told in the surreal prose that Allie Burke has come to be known for, Nowhere Train is the first zombie novel of its kind. At two parts hippie and one part magic, it is as deadly as it is beautiful; as dark as it is hopeful, baring the question in mind: who–and what–are Jett and her family really fighting for?
Author: Allie Burke
Genre: New Adult, Paranormal Romance, Dystopian
Two-years post end-of-the-world, all Jetilyn Fournier wants to do is learn to navigate a world that is no longer her own. Surviving zombies feels easy, though, compared to dealing with her rocky relationship with her best friend, the death of her mother, her sister’s faux happiness, and her father’s sudden desire to speak, after decades of silence. Saving herself is not even something she can fit in at the moment. Enter Devlin Shea: for all intents and purposes, a mortal enemy. Though she should hate him instantly upon contact, she doesn’t, and before she knows it, Jett has another life to save. Told in the surreal prose that Allie Burke has come to be known for, Nowhere Train is the first zombie novel of its kind. At two parts hippie and one part magic, it is as deadly as it is beautiful; as dark as it is hopeful, baring the question in mind: who–and what–are Jett and her family really fighting for?
About the Author
A Bestselling Author, publishing imprint Manager, and Psychology Today Blogger from Burbank, California, Allie Burke writes books she can’t find in the bookstore. Having been recognized as writing a “kickass book that defies the genre it’s in”, Allie writes with a prose that has been labeled poetic and ethereal.
Her life is a beautiful disaster, flowered with the harrowing existence of inherited eccentricity, a murderous family history, a faithful literature addiction, and the intricate darkness of true love. These are the enchanting experiences that inspire Allie’s fairytales.
From some coffee shop in Los Angeles, she is working on her next novel.
Visit Allie at http://wordsbyallieburke.com
Her life is a beautiful disaster, flowered with the harrowing existence of inherited eccentricity, a murderous family history, a faithful literature addiction, and the intricate darkness of true love. These are the enchanting experiences that inspire Allie’s fairytales.
From some coffee shop in Los Angeles, she is working on her next novel.
Visit Allie at http://wordsbyallieburke.com
Excerpt
“Why are you still here?”
Jett lay in the loosely packed sand, the gray sky watching from above. She could see only blackness from the inside of her eyelids. From somewhere behind her, Chris’s energy beat in her chest like an old heart with barely a will to survive after its stretched years. Like alcohol, marijuana intensified the effects of energy work, albeit in a different way. It slowed the background noise of the world so that she could focus on just one thing at a time. But it wasn’t because she was high. Chris—and his energy—was like that. Calmer than any being she had come in contact with on this earth, calmer, even, than her father. It’s why Chris was her best friend. He kept her grounded. And she kept him flying.
Jett felt Devlin’s energy shift from beside her, from void to aware. His blue eyes were looking at her; she could feel them on her skin, warm, as if they were the sun and not eyes.
Jett didn’t open her eyes.
“I often wonder that myself.” Devlin’s voice came out slow and calculated, as if he chose his words carefully. “Where this will to survive comes from in a world that isn’t worth surviving anyway. Why we don’t just let them eat us, or, better yet, shoot ourselves in the fucking head. Sorry.” Devlin cleared his throat.
Jett failed to hold in the laugh that escaped her, but didn’t fail to notice Chris’s energy perk up behind her when it happened. She laughed at more than one thing in that moment, but she didn’t know what was more influential: the fact that Devlin felt the need to apologize for dropping an f-bomb, or his apparent need to explain in depth the way of the world when she had silently meant what are you still doing here as in why are you still on the beach.
It was too late for humor, though, in a moment when her eyes were now open and watching Devlin look at her like she was an unappreciative bitch.
“I’m sorry,” she said, faintly smiling at him. “I meant, what are you doing here, you know, as in this…general location.”
Devlin covered his face with his hands and laughed for a long time. “I didn’t want to go home,” he mumbled eventually.
This conversation was like a mentally ill patient with bipolar disorder. As the air around them went from deep to frivolous, it was unstable and it was untrustworthy and it was… exhilarating.
“That sounds awful,” Jett said. “Not having anyone you particularly want to go back to.”
Devlin shrugged his shoulders against the soft sand. “I don’t have to go back, I guess. But I always do.”
“Why?”
His stare into her eyes was intense. “I don’t know.”
Jett lay in the loosely packed sand, the gray sky watching from above. She could see only blackness from the inside of her eyelids. From somewhere behind her, Chris’s energy beat in her chest like an old heart with barely a will to survive after its stretched years. Like alcohol, marijuana intensified the effects of energy work, albeit in a different way. It slowed the background noise of the world so that she could focus on just one thing at a time. But it wasn’t because she was high. Chris—and his energy—was like that. Calmer than any being she had come in contact with on this earth, calmer, even, than her father. It’s why Chris was her best friend. He kept her grounded. And she kept him flying.
Jett felt Devlin’s energy shift from beside her, from void to aware. His blue eyes were looking at her; she could feel them on her skin, warm, as if they were the sun and not eyes.
Jett didn’t open her eyes.
“I often wonder that myself.” Devlin’s voice came out slow and calculated, as if he chose his words carefully. “Where this will to survive comes from in a world that isn’t worth surviving anyway. Why we don’t just let them eat us, or, better yet, shoot ourselves in the fucking head. Sorry.” Devlin cleared his throat.
Jett failed to hold in the laugh that escaped her, but didn’t fail to notice Chris’s energy perk up behind her when it happened. She laughed at more than one thing in that moment, but she didn’t know what was more influential: the fact that Devlin felt the need to apologize for dropping an f-bomb, or his apparent need to explain in depth the way of the world when she had silently meant what are you still doing here as in why are you still on the beach.
It was too late for humor, though, in a moment when her eyes were now open and watching Devlin look at her like she was an unappreciative bitch.
“I’m sorry,” she said, faintly smiling at him. “I meant, what are you doing here, you know, as in this…general location.”
Devlin covered his face with his hands and laughed for a long time. “I didn’t want to go home,” he mumbled eventually.
This conversation was like a mentally ill patient with bipolar disorder. As the air around them went from deep to frivolous, it was unstable and it was untrustworthy and it was… exhilarating.
“That sounds awful,” Jett said. “Not having anyone you particularly want to go back to.”
Devlin shrugged his shoulders against the soft sand. “I don’t have to go back, I guess. But I always do.”
“Why?”
His stare into her eyes was intense. “I don’t know.”