Kindle Edition Amazon Dream Weaver Novels Dream Weaver Novels CreateSpace Category:  Young Adult/Teen Publisher: Dream Weaver Novels with CreateSpace ISBN-10:  1493587943 Type: Fiction Pages: 284 Copyright: March 18, 2014 ISBN-13: 9781493587940 Price: $0.99 (eBook) The story of Emari Sweet, Nickolas Benedetti and Sabre James continues in this 2nd book in the 5 Star, International Book Award finalist Dream Weaver series by Su Williams. Em lives the life of rock star and living nightmares dangle her life from a precarious edge. Emari Sweet lives the life of a rock star in an elaborate memory weave by Dream Weaver Sabre James. But Em's ability to infiltrate Weaver memories brings the illusion to a clashing end. Nick restores the memories he took from her at the end of Dream Weaver, and Em is justifiably angry with him. But even after she forgives him, she senses a darkness creeping into his soul. A darkness that's tearing him apart. Thomas, the Nightmare Wraith, has returned with a vengeance...and a friend. Both are bent on the destruction of the Weavers...Em's just collateral damage and a tasty treat. Emari's life is held in Sabre's hands. Literally. And one of his 'damned experiments' could mean her end.          Excerpt Chapter 1 The Rock Show “Cuimhnigh! Cuimhnigh!” the crowd chanted. The 8150 arena was already sultry with fan sweat, and pyro and hazer smoke from the warm-up band; they were heavy into the flash and bang, shock and awe. My eyes already burned from the glycol smoke; which was actually cool, because the extra blood flow or something amped up the green of my eyes; made them more intense. My eyes were my prominent trademark—trademark for the band; they appeared on every CD cover from the first. Rarely had I found a person with eyes as green as mine, at least not without some serious lenses. They’re emerald green, a gift from my mother, sparkling semiprecious gems. My eyes were enchanted, a magnetic spell cast on fanboys—and some girls, too—that magicked their hearts to mine. But the eyes weren’t my only magic. Funny how being a musician has that affect on people; how they just want to be with you, to touch you, to talk to you. The charm heightens their awareness, charges every neuron in their brain and body until they do things they wouldn’t normally do, say things, give you things, give you themselves. But, I don’t generally like to take things. I’m a giver. I tried to be, mostly. You kind of have to be, to be any kind of artist. You have to give. Like giving your soul. It’s personal, intimate. You reach deep down inside and pluck out who you are and present your ‘self’, palms open. “Here I am. My heart and my soul. Take it.” And you blindly trust that they will cherish your gift, treat it tenderly and hand it back to you in one piece. “Cuimhnigh! Cuimhnigh!” the chant thundered through the wings. In American, it sounds like ‘Come nigh’. Probably most Americans think that’s how it’s spelled too; probably think it means ‘come near.’ But in its native language, Irish, ‘cuimhnigh’ means ‘remember.’ Our subliminal plea to be held in the hearts of the masses, forever. The roar of the crowd brought me out of my reverie and back to reality and Vail, Colorado’s 8150 Club. Show time. Kylen locked wrists with me and hauled me off the green room couch. “Time to rock, Sweets.” “Yup. All right guys. All in.” I extended my arm in front me, palm up. Palm up to catch the blessings that rained down on us. We were a secular rock band, but we still believed we were blessed. If not, our fans surely did, and those adorations were gratefully received. Kylen placed his upturned hand on mine. Jack added his next, Drey came next and Yvy topped off the stack, palm down—to hold the blessings in. We joined the chant of the crowd, pumping our stack of hands in the midst of our circle. “Cuimhnigh! Cuimhnigh! Cuimhnigh! Let’s Rock!!!” We broke apart, revving ourselves up for the show. This was our pep rally. We’d done this before every show since the first. We were superstitious that if we didn’t, the show would be a flop. Granted, we’d definitely played a few stinkers over the last couple of years or so, but none that were complete disasters. Jack left the green room first. He would warm up the crowd—as if they needed it; the club was virtually effervescent with this hot mob tonight; but, rumor had it, the 8150 always was. The rest of us haunted the wings on either side of the stage, absorbing the vibe that rushed the stage in raw waves. Nerves gave way to passion as Jack’s drum solo swelled with the fervor of the crowd. The throb of his bass drum thrummed in the rhythm of my heart. Lights and lasers flashed across the stage, never fully illuminating any one place, turning the venue into a surreal other world. I sucked in one last calming breath, stepped out onto the stage, and followed the glow in the dark arrows to my mike. “Ladies and gentleman,” a light flashed on behind me, defining my silhouette at the front of the stage. “On drums, Mr. Jack Leonhardt.” A group of spot lights converged on him. The crowd cheered riotously and Jack thundered a fill. “On lead guitar, Mr. Kylen Toth.” The lights raced to the guitarist. The crazed crowd erupted as Kylen added his smooth, seductive guitar to the drums. “On rhythm guitar, Mrs. Yvy Iusi.” The roar continued as Yvy’s anointed fingers stroked the strings of her guitar. “On bass guitar, Mr. Drey Iusi.” The crowd stomped to the thump of Drey’s bass. “And I’m Emari Sweet,” the spotlight flooded me, “and we are,” I paused for dramatic effect, but the crowd beat me to it. “Cuimhnigh!” The energy was raucous and deafening, and totally alive and thrilling. Energy so sated with devotion that there were no words to describe it, as it filled the arena, gorging every corner and spilling into the night beyond the walls. I closed my eyes and spread my arms to absorb the waves that passed over me. They were hot and sweet and violent and passionate. It was a tangible energy that washed through the room like the ocean. Like standing on the beach of some alien planet, where the waters were electric and celestial. Like nowhere else in this world or any other. And this was home. Nothing else mattered at this moment. This was my drug of choice. As the intro music bled into the chords of our first song, my foot struck something solid at the base of my mike stand. I didn’t remember sandbags during rehearsal. Searching the stage, I also noticed the tie-downs on all the PA equipment; our stacked monitors were strapped to anchors on the stage. I looked out over the audience who was now bouncing to the pulse of the band. My head swam and I grabbed my mike stand for support. Kylen grinned and strolled, half-drunkenly, to my side. He leaned close to my ear and shouted over the music. “Welcome to the 8150 and the bouncy stage!” My eyebrows crunched together as I surveyed the stage and audience, once again. Sure as hell, the whole damn stage was moving with the crowd’s enthusiasm. Holy…It didn’t take long for the bounce to become a part of the fevered intoxication. This would be a high to remember. The bounce and zeal inebriated each of us. Sometime during the second set, as tradition and perspiration dictated, I stripped off my soaked vintage tee, typically a gift from a fan, whirled it over my head and launched it into the audience. My eyes followed its tumbling arc into the uplifted hand of a man whose eyes caught and captured mine. I stumbled over the lyrics and an anchoring sand bag; and felt, for the first time ever, remotely abashed in my black skinny jeans and cherry push-up bra. His eyes were crazy blue, so dark they were almost black, radiant with some unknown energy that mesmerized me. And to top it off, he was hot, more closely resembling a rock-god than any of us on the stage, with his tousled black hair, perfect, pouty lips, carved cheekbones and those amazing eyes. I had to pull away from his gaze before I lost my way completely, and threw myself back into the concert. Toward the end of the set, I allowed myself a glance in his direction, in the hopes I could send a roadie after him to bring him to me back stage at the end of the show. But, to my utter disappointment, he was nowhere to be found.

Reviewed by Katelyn Hensel for Readers' Favorite
Rock Star is the second book in the Dream Weaver series by the talented Su Williams. While I hadn't read the first book, it was easy enough to grasp the ideas once I read into the first few chapters. The writing style was unique and different, first showing us flashes of dreams and then broadening to showcase whole passages and moments. It was both captivating and something that I haven't really experienced lately. Emari has been living (dreaming?) her life as a rock star, but as always, life does come back to haunt her. She is still reeling from Nick and how he left things, and there is a lot of interesting back and forth between the two. Sabre is one of the titular Dream Weavers and it is his weave that Emari has been living in, and he and Nick are at odds. However, the three need to team up in order to stand up to Thomas and William, who are causing all kinds of trouble.

I love the kind of pseudo-scientific supernatural quality that Williams employs regarding the manipulation of memories. There was an Inception-esque quality to the story, but enough unique ideas and cool thoughts that made it really shine on its own. The mind is a mysterious place, and dreams and memories are one of the remaining types of mystery left on Earth. Williams continues to tap into this in her series and does so with aplomb and skill. Emari is a very genial character, and she has the type of clever mind that makes you really respect a character as well as like her. William's writing style is a lot stronger than many in the YA genre so this was quite the pleasure to read.

Loved it!
I have been waiting for the sequel to Dream Weaver to come out. With the way Dream Weaver ended I couldn't wait to see what happened next. Finally Rock Star is out and it was worth the wait. This book is just as awesome, if not better than Dream Weaver. I hope this series, or ""saga" keeps going for a long time.
P.S. You don't need to read Dream Weaver to get and enjoy this book. I highly recommend you do read it first, but you don't have to.

Very Enjoyable
"Rock Star (Dream Weaver, #2)" by Su Williams is a great follow up to
Dream Weaver.
Manipulation of memories and dreams is a really fascinating concept and Williams knows how to make it interesting. In this book Emari Sweet lives the life or dream of a popular rock star on tour, with bouncers, a stalker and with some very odd dreams on top of it.
Just as sophisticated and clever as the first instalment of the series the book understands to 'work' the idea and weave what appears various sets of realities and dreams.
Emari is a great character with strength and confidence but also some weakness, her life as rock star is quite convincingly portrayed and the dark paranormal aspects of the story unfold nicely throughout the book.
Very clever and very enjoyable.