Hello and welcome to my blog tour stop for
FROST by M.P. Kozlowsky!
Today I have an excerpt from the novel! Plus you can win a copy of the book (US only) by scrolling to the bottom of this post. But first, let's learn more about the book...
FROSTAuthor: M.P. Kozlowsky
Publisher: Scholastic Press
Publication Date: October 11, 2016
The Robots Are Rising
Sixteen-year-old Frost understands why she's spent her entire life in an abandoned apartment building. The ruined streets below are hunting grounds for rogue robots and Eaters.
She understands why she's never met a human besides her father. She even understands why he forbids her to look for medicine for her dying pet. But the thing is, it's not her real father giving the orders . . .
It's his memories.
Before he died, Frost's father uploaded his consciousness into their robot servant. But the technology malfunctioned, and now her father fades in and out. So when Frost learns that there might be medicine on the other side of the ravaged city, she embarks on a dangerous journey to save the only living creature she loves.
With only a robot as a companion, Frost must face terrors of all sorts, from outrunning the vicious Eaters . . . to talking to the first boy she's ever set eyes on. But can a girl who's only seen the world through books and dusty windows survive on her own? Or will her first journey from home be her last?
Her thoughts were interrupted by noises out in the hall, and it wasn’t the continuous falling away of the building like she was used to. Her stomach dropped as she eyed the closed door. Had the Eaters finally found her? She had forgotten to lock the door. Not that it mattered, not if it were them.
The sounds grew louder. Frost closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready.
The footsteps ceased. With a creak, the door slowly opened. And there, standing before her, was a robot.
Frost exhaled, a mixture of disappointment and relief. “Bunt. You were gone so long, you had me worried.”
“It is becoming more and more difficult to find supplies, Frost. And there are more and more dangers to evade.”
Bunt bent down and lowered his box of loot to the ground, then, on one knee, he placed a hand on Romes. The broot did not stir beneath the metallic touch.
“He is getting worse.”
“You’re supposed to tell me he’s getting better.”
“Alas . . .”
“Alas . . . Alas . . . What do you think you are? You’re not human, Bunt. Never will be.”
She thought about this constantly. She’d been reminded of it just yesterday, when she asked Bunt to pretend to be a boy her age in the hopes that if Frost ever met a real one, she’d have some idea what to say.
“Pretend?” the bot had asked her.
“You know what it means, Bunt.”
“I am unable to pretend.”
Frost sighed in frustration. “Just talk to me like you’re someone else. Someone real. Say your name is . . .” She picked up a severely weathered book from the top of a large pile and flipped through it. “James. Say your name is James.”
“My name is James.”
Frost felt a bolt of excitement course through her. “Good,” she said. “Good.” Hurriedly, she flipped through more pages. “Okay,” she said, under her breath. “Okay. I’m supposed to . . .”
After rereading the lines three times, she awkwardly crossed her legs and attempted to curtsey, nearly falling over. “How do you do?”
“I hunt for food and slay Eaters.”
It was impossible with him. That was why she needed her father to tell her about boys. At least he’d been one once. A human boy. Something Bunt could never be.
Although Bunt did have the shape of a human. A silver construct, rings of dulled metal wrapping around him from head to toe. There was no face, just the outline of one. A bump where the nose should be, soft indentations for the mouth and eyes, raised loops for the ears. A mold without features, and when he looked at you, there was only the faintest of violet lights where the eyes should be. And when he talked another violet light surged through the area designated for its mouth. Frost had been around him so long that she had begun to see a face there. A sad gentleman, a man out of time and place, a soul removed. He reminded her of everything wrong with the world.
M.P. Kozlowsky lives in New York City with his wife and two daughters. He is the author of Juniper Berry and The Dyerville Tales, books for readers of all ages.
Connect with the Author:
Website | Twitter | Goodreads
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