Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Frost Blog Tour: Review, Deleted Scene, & GIVEAWAY of Frost (Frost #1) by Kate Avery Ellison

Goodreads rating: 4.10
Paperback, 194 pages
Published April 18th 2012 by CreateSpace (first published March 29th 2012)
Series: Frost #1
Source: Gift for review

 In the icy, monster-plagued world of the Frost, one wrong move and a person could end up dead—and Lia Weaver knows this better than anyone. After monsters kill her parents, she must keep the family farm running despite the freezing cold and threat of monster attacks or risk losing her siblings to reassignment by the village Elders. With dangers on all sides and failure just one wrong step away, she can’t afford to let her emotions lead her astray. So when her sister finds a fugitive bleeding to death in the forest—a young stranger named Gabe—Lia surprises herself and does the unthinkable.

She saves his life.

Giving shelter to the fugitive could get her in trouble. The Elders have always described the advanced society of people beyond the Frost, the “Farthers,” as ruthless and cruel. But Lia is startled to find that Gabe is empathetic and intelligent…and handsome. She might even be falling in love with him.

But time is running out. The monsters from the forest circle the farm at night. The village leader is starting to ask questions. Farther soldiers are searching for Gabe. Lia must locate a secret organization called the Thorns to help Gabe escape to safety, but every move she makes puts her in more danger.

Is compassion—and love—worth the risk?

I was surprised first how short this book was, and then how it was the perfect length. This is such an interesting world, and I guess my only complaint is that I wanted to know more about this world that hasn't been explained yet. Those monsters freak me out, but I hope we get to know more about them. Lia was an amazing character. She knew that she needed to take care of her crippled brother and much younger sister. The people of the Frost have been taught to be weary, not just of the monsters in the forest but also the Fathers. And they've been hanging around the Frost more recently, but no one knows why. Around the same time, Lia finds a young man bleeding out in the forest just before nightfall, which is when the monsters come out. And Lia has a particular reason to fear and hate the monsters: they killed her parents. Now Lia is stuck with taking care of the young man who turns out to be a Farther, keeping it from the villagers. But she knows she should tell someone. And all the while, she's falling in love with him.

The love story was slow-going, but I loved every moment. What I loved about this book though is that I remember as much about this strange world as I do with the romance. This book has so many secrets that come to light, and not just involving Gabe. Lia has to make some tough decisions near the end, and she has a problem deciding what's worth risking everything you've ever known, and everything that could ensure your family's livelihood. And all for the guy that she's inadvertently fallen in love with. But there are secret about her parents that she could have never imagined, and she'll be betrayed by someone she trusted, and it all spirals to a climactic ending. I know, I sound like I'm trying to sell this book, but I was surprised by how much I loved it. It's not just that the world is unique, it's the fierceness and loyalty of the characters that really drew me into this series.

With the way this book ended, I can't wait to see what's going to happen and how the author is going to expand this interesting world. I also hope that the romance grows too. Their interesting relationship really has me wondering what's going to happen to them now.


[From Kate]

This is a scene that was (somewhat) deleted from an earlier version of Frost before I had changed the setting from a generic mountain to the sinister and snowy world of the Frost. In this version, there is no little sister named Ivy, and Lia plans to kill Gabe to put him out of his dying misery. Some remnants of the scene survived into the final draft, like when she cleans his wound and digs the shard of metal from his skin (although in the final draft it isn’t a dagger, but something else entirely). The point of this scene was to show how tough Lia was, as well as the stoic background she came from—I mean, hey, her mother was willing to put the family pet out of its misery with a rock!

    I came back with my father’s gun. I still wasn’t sure if it would fire, but I cocked it and aimed at his face anyway. His eyes fluttered open at the click, and he dragged his gaze up the barrel to my face. I licked my lips, held my hands steady, and pressed the end of the barrel against his forehead.

    I couldn’t bear to see this kind of suffering, not even in a monster.

    He was breathing in short little gasps. I looked away from him, at the weathered wood of the wall, and my heart did a little dance of terror in my chest as my slippery fingers tightened on the trigger.

    Once, when I was little, I saw my mother kill one of the farm dogs. It had come home torn up from a fight, its leg dragging and its stomach torn open. She’d taken a rock and smashed its head in. I thought of the dog and squeezed my eyes shut. The gun felt hot in my hand, like a firebrand. I breathed in and out, gathering my courage.

    The dog had been mine, I remembered. Storm, I’d called it. Him. I’d called him Storm.

    “He won’t heal,” she’d told me. “He’s miserable. It’s better this way.”

    The man made a sound like a groan. I pulled the gun back and went to the house. 

    I didn’t even know what I was doing until I was halfway done assembling the bucket of hot water, the rags, and the lump of soap. I lugged the things back into the barn and dropped them on the floor beside his still form.

   The thought that I was crazy might have gone through my mind as I turned him over so I could access the wound.

    He hissed with pain as the hot water touched his flesh. The wound was deep, but I saw no infection yet. I rinsed the blood away carefully, dabbing at the torn edges of his flesh with the rag. I could feel his muscles, tense and coiled, behind my hands.

    “What are you doing?” He gritted, his voice low and hard. I’d forgotten he knew the language of the Palm, and I was surprised to hear it from him. It took a moment to find my voice.

    “Lie still,” I managed, after a short silence punctuated only by his labored breathing. “I’m just cleaning the wound.”


    I had no answer for that, really. I pressed the rag hard against his skin, and he twitched. “Lie still,” I said.

    He shut up after that. As I washed the blood away, I saw a glimmer of metal embedded in his skin. I got my fingers around it and tugged gently, and his hands grabbed at the straw as his face contorted in pain and a moan escaped his mouth.

    “That hurts,” he gritted through clenched teeth, turning his head to look at me. His eyes captured mine, and his gaze frightened me. But I shoved those feelings down, because I had to be strong. There was no room for fear in my world, not now.

    “Lie still,” I repeated, trying to speak firmly, but my voice shook. “Something is buried in the wound.”

    His whole body trembled as I touched the injured flesh, but this time he didn’t snap or try to pull away. I used the rag to wipe at the place, dislodging a flap of dangling skin and revealing more of the thing in his back. I pinched it between my fingers and tugged again.

    I couldn’t tell what it was—some kind of metal that had become buried in him, maybe. It wasn’t a rock. I pulled harder, wiggling the piece to dislodge it. His head snapped back, and a scream pried its way from his lips. I gave a final wrench and pulled it loose, and his whole body stiffened as he fainted against the straw.

    The barn was very quiet with the absence of his moans. I turned the thing over in my hands. It was a small dagger, silver and intricately carved, shaped almost like a hook and slick with blood across its razor-sharp edge. I wiped his blood on the straw and slipped the dagger into my pocket before I finished cleaning the wound. When I was done, I wrapped the shoulder in bandages and left him, still unconscious, in the hay.

    The ordeal had shaken me. I paced the house, examining the strange thing from his shoulder over and over. When I’d calmed down, I hid it in the vase on the mantle and prepared my supper. Sunset was glowing against the mountaintops where they touched the sky, and the red-gold colors leaked through the shutters and spilled across my table. I slipped my fingers into my pocket again to feel the shape of the thing, and then I remembered that it was in the vase on the mantle.

    I ate my bread and cheese and checked the cupboards. They were nearly bare—I’d have to go into the village for more food tomorrow. I got out my knitting and sat down in the chair by the fire, but I hesitated to begin my work.

    If I’d cleaned his wound, I might as well feed him too, right?

    I brought him a lump of greasy cheese and a few crusts of bread, softened in a bowl of milk. His eyes were open again, and they tracked my movement across the barn floor. I set the things down close to his hand and backed away.

    He might have spoken, I think, if I’d let him. But I fled for the house without looking to see if he’d reached for the food. I locked the barn and went inside, drawing my chair close to the fire and losing myself in work. 

Here are the other blogs on the tour:

Have the chance to win 1 of 10 digital copies of Frost (INT) or 2 signed copies of Frost (US)! Just enter below!


  1. My favorite book is Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.

  2. My favorite book is Forest of Hands and Teeth. Don't ask me why...but I love it=)


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