#PenguinChats: Calling all Beautiful Creatures Fans!

Introducing #PenguinChats, an exciting new project from the publishers of Penguin! YA bloggers and readers like ourselves have a chance to connect with a Penguin author on Twitter at a 30 minute Q&A using the hashtag #PenguinChats hosted by @PenguinUKBooks
 
How amazing is that?
 
What's more, Gripped into Books has become one of the official blog partners! So, today am here to give you some really cool info on the bestselling novels by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl - Beautiful Creatures
 
On Sunday 27th January at 8pm, Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl will kick off the first #PenguinChats during which they will be able to answer all our questions on the series and OMG the upcoming movie too! You can find more details about #PenguinChats on the Penguin Blog.

And now for me to share some exciting content! First of all, If you by some bizzare reason have not picked up the Beautfiul Creatures books, I'm certain after reading this prologue, it will leave you intruiged and running for more ;D




 
BEFORE
 
The Middle of Nowhere

There were only two kinds of people in our town. “The stupid


and the stuck,” my father had affectionately classifi ed our neighbors.
“The ones who are bound to stay or too dumb to go.
Everyone else fi nds a way out.” There was no question which
one he was, but I’d never had the courage to ask why. My father
was a writer, and we lived in Gatlin, South Carolina, because
the Wates always had, since my great-great-great-great-granddad,
Ellis Wate, fought and died on the other side of the Santee
River during the Civil War.
Only folks down here didn’t call it the Civil War. Everyone
under the age of sixty called it the War Between the States, while
everyone over sixty called it the War of Northern Aggression, as
if somehow the North had baited the South into war over a bad
bale of cotton. Everyone, that is, except my family. We called it
the Civil War.





2



 


Just another reason I couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Gatlin wasn’t like the small towns you saw in the movies,
unless it was a movie from about fi fty years ago. We were
too far from Charleston to have a Starbucks or a McDonald’s.
All we had was a Dar-ee Keen, since the Gentrys were too
cheap to buy all new letters when they bought the Dairy
King. The library still had a card catalog, the high school
still had chalkboards, and our community pool was Lake
Moultrie, warm brown water and all. You could see a movie
at the Cineplex about the same time it came out on DVD,
but you had to hitch a ride over to Summerville, by the community
college. The shops were on Main, the good houses
were on River, and everyone else lived south of Route 9, where
the pavement disintegrated into chunky concrete stubble —
terrible for walking, but perfect for throwing at angry
possums, the meanest animals alive. You never saw that in
the movies.
Gatlin wasn’t a complicated place; Gatlin was Gatlin. The
neighbors kept watch from their porches in the unbearable heat,
sweltering in plain sight. But there was no point. Noth ing ever
changed. Tomorrow would be the fi rst day of school, my sophomore
year at Stonewall Jackson High, and I already knew everything
that was going to happen — where I would sit, who I would
talk to, the jokes, the girls, who would park where.
There were no surprises in Gatlin County. We were pretty
much the epicenter of the middle of nowhere.
At least, that’s what I thought, when I closed my battered
copy of


Slaughterhouse-Five, clicked off my iPod, and turned


out the light on the last night of summer.



 


3





Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
There was a curse.
There was a girl.
And in the end, there was a grave.
I never even saw it coming.
 
 
Ends on an ominous note, don't you think?
and because you guys are just so awesome I have some really cool posters to share with you!
 
 




 
Don't forget to stop by the #PenguinChats
We're going to have so much fun! :D
 


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