Book Blog Tour: Wearing the Cape by Marion G. Harmon!

Happy Thursday!

It's almost the weekend! Can I get an Amen?! I am five books away from completing my goal of reading 35 books this year. I'm so going to make it! ;)


Today, I'm here to talk about Wearing the Cape by Marion G. Harmon, so sit back, relax, and continue to scroll for the excerpt!


Title: Wearing the Cape
Author: Marion G. Harmon
Genre: Young Adult, Adventure, Fantasy
Release Date: July 1st, 2011
Publisher:  Createspace

BUY LINKS: | Amazon | B&N  |
WHO WANTS TO BE A SUPERHERO?

Hope did, but she grew out of it. Which made her superhuman breakthrough in the Ashland Bombing, just before starting her freshman year at the University of Chicago, more than a little ironic. And now she has some decisions to make. Given the code-name "Astra" and invited to join the Sentinels, Chicago's premier super-team, will she take up the cape and mask and become a career superhero? Or will she get a handle on her new powers (super-strength has some serious drawbacks) and then get on with her life-plan? In a world where superheroes join unions and have agents, and the strongest and most photogenic ones become literal supercelebrities, the temptation to become a "cape" is strong. But the price can be high-especially if you're "outed" and lose the shield of your secret identity. Becoming a sidekick puts the decision off for awhile, but Hope's life is further complicated when The Teatime Anarchist, the supervillain responsible for the Ashland Bombing, takes an interest in her.

Apparently as Astra, Hope is supposed to save the world. Or at least a significant part of it.

Wearing the Cape is a 300-page superhero novel for anyone who ever loved comic-book heroes, and wonders how they might behave in the real world.


I was driving east on the Eisenhower Expressway when the Teatime Anarchist dropped the Ashland Avenue overpass on top of me, using enough C4 to bring the whole southbound span down at once.

My day had started normally enough. I gulped coffee and grabbed scorched toast, exchanging kisses with Mom on the way out the door. The September chill nipped around the edges of my coat and at my legs, making me glad I’d worn tights under my skirt. Driving one-handed, I scanned my schedule with the other: I’d be playing Mom’s Girl Friday at the gallery, getting ready for Thursday night’s foundation event. Julie had texted; she planned for us to take the University of Chicago by storm our first year, and wanted us ready by Orientation Week. We’d ruled Oak Park High till graduation, and she didn’t see any reason our college years should be different.

I passed a gray Suburban and the red headed munchkin in the back seat waved at me while her mom talked business on her hands-free cell. I stuck out my tongue, making her laugh, and my epad launched into Julie’s new call theme: the U of C fight-song. Wave the flag of old Chicago—

Bang.

Overhead explosions shattered my thoughts and I looked up to see blooms of blasted concrete and falling bridge. I screamed and ducked, lost control. The car slid. A flash of yellow and I hit something hard. I screamed again at the second, world-ending shock as falling roadway flattened my car. The tires blew. The buckled roof hit my head and flying glass stung my face as my vision exploded in fireworks. Choking off the scream, I found myself lying stretched across the front seat, the gearshift digging into my stomach, in smothering darkness. I tasted blood on my tongue.

Alive. I was alive.

The car roof pushed down, inches above my head as I lay there in the dark, my seat belt cutting off my air. Lightheaded, clawing blindly, I unbuckled but still couldn’t breathe without choking. Cement dust. Pulling my coat open I yanked my sweater up, taking shallow, sobbing breaths through the wool and fighting to think around the rising fear.

Twisting around, I cautiously felt my legs, wiggled toes. Nothing broken? Emergency kit under seat (thanks Dad!). Pen light—I almost wept with relief.  Broken epad, damn it. Still, breathing okay, not bleeding out. Help. Help would come.

But would it come in time?

What about the munchkin and her mom? Were they under the road now? Could they wait, if they were alive? I choked on panic as thick as the dust. I had to get out. I had to know. They had to be alive.

Gasping, pulse pounding, I pushed against the roof above me and felt something deep inside me change. Cold fire ran through my bones. I shrieked and my next breath filled me with the whole world. Tearing through the crushed roof of my car, I heaved aside the chunk of roadway above my head as easily as clearing cheap drywall, stood, blinking at the disaster around me, and saw what had saved me; I’d slid into a huge earth moving machine traveling in the next lane and it shielded me.  Around us, cars had fallen with the span and lay broken among shattered chunks of road and twisted steel frame. Dust-clogged air carried the smell of spilled oil and gas, the first bite of burning rubber.  A white sedan screeched to a sliding stop at the north end of the broken bridge. The world went far, far away as I looked at my shaking hands, unable to believe what I’d just done.

Oh God. Oh God.

I pushed the screaming panic down. Okay. Deal now, freak later.

I started digging.




Marion G. Harmon has read and written all of his life (well, ever since first grade). He finished his first novel, Wearing the Cape, in 2010, and after failing to find an agent who knew what to do with a superhero story, decided to self-publish (mainly so he'd stop rewriting the book). 

He published through KDP and Createspace in mid 2011 with some success; Wearing the Cape earned a 4.5 star Amazon rating and spent most of 2012 ranked #1 in its Amazon category. Marion has since written four more novels set in the same world 

(Bite Me: Big Easy Nights, Villains Inc., Young Sentinels, and Small Town Heroes), astonished each time at the enthusiastic response of his readers. He is currently working hard on a sixth book, this one also featuring Astra and company, while polishing the plot of his deeply unserious space epic, Worst Contact. Really.



                                                      Connect with Marion G. Harmon! 




Happy reading!



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