It's one year later. And everything has changed.
Remember The Second Chance Institute (SCI). Earth’s benevolent non-profit by day, Thera’s totalitarian regime by night. They’ve stepped up their game on Earth and on Thera—infiltrating political parties, preying on the downtrodden, and planning offensive maneuvers. The SCI’s abuse of their charter leads to Arbiter oversight and bitter consequences.
Remember Kira Donovan. Broken, burdened, and evading those who wish her harm, Kira enlists the Arbiters’ help when forced to return to the clutches of the SCI and her angry, estranged love.
Remember Blake Sundry. Exiled, determined, and packing an agenda, Blake seeks assistance on Earth and Thera to use his newfound knowledge to bring down the SCI.
Remember Ethan Darcton. Overworked, emotional, and holding a grudge, Ethan hunts down his stolen property, but finds himself in awkward territory, stuck between the Arbiters and the SCI.
Full of action, competing agendas, romantic entanglements, humor, twists and turns, arbitrate is Megan Thomason’s third installment in the award-winningdaynight series after daynight and clean slate complex (a daynight story).
Praise for arbitrate:
"There are a lot of books I finish and feel happy, this one I finished and my head is swirling, in a totally awesome way! Not only does it have a great story with characters that you like (and some you just hate as they are the enemy) but the book also gets you thinking, thinking about the implication of effects of different actions and courses in life. This story has action, fighting, plots and plans, romance, love triangles, family, betrayal - has it all." --Emily Barton, Emmy Mom One Day at a Time blog, 5 stars
"You have hit this one out of the park." --ARC Reviewer
"For the record, I LOVED Kira's choice!! And the whole thing just blew me away! Very, very well done!! Now when can I get my hands on generate?! Can't wait " --ARC Reviewer
"Read my ARC of Arbitrate and consider my mind blown! I started it the minute it was sent and couldn't put it down." --ARC Reviewer
Meet The Second Chance Institute (SCI): Earth's benevolent non-profit by day, Thera's totalitarian regime by night. Their motto: Because Everyone Deserves a Second Chance at Life(TM). Reality: the SCI subjects Second Chancers to strict controls and politically motivated science experiments like Cleaving--forced lifetime union between two people who have sex. Punishment for disobeying SCI edicts? Immediate Exile or death.
Meet Kira Donovan. Fiercely loyal, overly optimistic, and ensnared by the promise of a full-ride college scholarship, Kira signs the SCI Recruit contract to escape memories of a tragedy that left her boyfriend and friends dead.
Meet Blake Sundry. Bitter about being raised in Exile and his mother's death, Blake's been trained to infiltrate and destroy the SCI. Current barrier to success? His Recruit partner--Miss Goody Two Shoes Kira Donovan.
Meet Ethan Darcton. Born with a defective heart and resulting inferiority complex, Ethan's forced to do his SCI elite family's bidding. Cleave-worthy Kira Donovan catches his eye, but the presiding powers give defect-free Blake Sundry first dibs.
Full of competing agendas, romantic entanglements, humor, twists and turns, daynight is an award-winning, bestselling novel and first in thedaynight series.
Praise for daynight:
2012 Book of the Year Award Finalist-Young Adult Fiction, ForeWord Reviews
"Sure to win over YA readers looking for a dangerous, dystopian adventure story" —Kirkus Reviews
"Gripping young adult dystopian novel; compelling conflicts; high stakes; powerful narrative; surprises keep coming; strong writing; page-turner; engaging characters; Readers will be hungry for the sequels.”—BlueInk Review (starred review)
"Thomason's description of Thera's totalitarianism will make fans of Brave New World shiver... SCI, her fantasy corporation, has disturbing parallels to actual companies and regimes that claim to do good while harming people... The author deftly appeals to both romance-loving teens as well as those intrigued by young adults fighting the establishment.”—ForeWord Clarion Review, 4 stars
Author Megan Thomason
Bestselling, award-winning author Megan Thomason lives in paradise aka San Diego, CA with her husband and five children. A former software manager, Megan vastly prefers writing twisted tales to business, product, and marketing plans. When she isn't typing away on her laptop, she's reading books on her phone--over 600 in the last year--or attending to the needs of her family. Megan's fluent in sarcasm, could potentially benefit from a 12-step program for road rage, struggles with a Hot Tamales addiction, loves world travel & fast cars and hates paperwork & being an insomniac.
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EXCERPTS - Choose the one you like best
The assailant dragged me to the main room and hefted me onto the table. I was paralyzed, unable to move, but still alert. My eyes were still open, yet my vision was blurred. I saw enough to see my attacker was a middle-aged, balding male. Taller than Blake, but shorter than Jax.
The perpetrator moved into the kitchen. I heard water run at the sink. Scrubbing. Jostling of tools? I tried to eke out some words to ask what he was doing…what he had planned for me, but my vocal cords were frozen along with the rest of me.
He moved back over to the table with a tray, but I couldn’t see what was on it. I heard a ripping sound and then he secured my arms and legs to the table with duct tape. Why he bothered when I couldn’t move wasn’t immediately apparent. Then he lifted my shirt to expose my abdomen.
“I’m angry at all of them. Every SCI leader. In fact Joshua gave me a list of those who are Earth-side. It makes for a great to-do list.” They all deserve to pay.
I’m done talking. It’s time for some action.
One thousand one.
One thousand two.
One thousand three.
That’s all it takes to even out my breathing and steady my hand.
I shift the crosshairs on my target ever so slightly and pull the trigger.
The kick of the rifle slams into my tense shoulder. Son of a… When I am able to suck in air I choke on the acrid fumes left from the discharge.
My father would be proud that all his training paid off. Oh, who am I kidding? He’d find something to criticize about my work here. Sad that even though he’s gone I can hear him saying, “If you’d hit a little to the left you’d have taken out a higher concentration of nerves.”
I nearly killed him. I can still feel the weight of the revolver in my hands, the cool feel of the metal against my skin, my finger pulsing against the trigger.
I still want to kill him.
Gads I hate him.
I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above my dresser and barely recognize what I see. Dark circles under the eyes, unshaven face, expression that screams failure. I hate that guy, too.
I grab the lamp off my nightstand and hurl it into the mirror.
Shards of glass clank everywhere.
It’s oddly therapeutic.
A tall marble glass cat comes to mind. My mother got it for me as a housewarming gift. I stalk out to the living room and seize it. It’s heavy and awkward and the perfect accessory to mayhem.
The bathroom’s my next destination. I flip on the light switch and take a deep breath. Is it so wrong to want something to be more broken than me?
As I slam the cat into the mirror, the falling pieces clang out a musical masterpiece. A single chunk of glass remains hanging, showcasing the smirk on my face. I pry the heavy cat from the broken shards and send it flying through the glass shower door.
The statue lies at the bottom of a mound of glass. I roughly yank it out, cutting my hand in the process. My blood drips, cascading down the mountain of debris like a river of death, pooling at the bottom in a sea of woe born of my grief.
Ignoring the blood and pain I loosely wrap my hand with a towel and then purposefully march into the kitchen. There’s more hatred to unleash, despair to release, anguish to expel.
I target the glass paneled cabinet doors. They’re always collecting dust.
The marble cat helps me beat the crap out of them.
Onward to the living room. I swing and bash and crack until the TV’s beyond fixing.
Crash. Glass coffee table explodes.
Clunk. Sofa table’s in pieces.
I’m looking for my next victim when the front door opens.
My visitor looks at me like I’m a crazy man. I’d plead insanity, but that’d be as big a lie as he told me