Cover Unveiled + Chapter 1: Finale by Becca Fitzpatrick

The Blurb

Nora is more certain than ever that she is in love with Patch. Fallen angel or no, he is the one for her. Her heritage and destiny may mean they are fated to be enemies, but there is no turning her back on him. Now Nora and Patch must gather their strength to face one last, perilous trial. Old enemies return, new enemies are made, and a friend's ultimate betrayal threatens the peace Patch and Nora so desperately want. The battle lines are drawn—but which sides are they on? And in the end, are there some obstacles even love can't conquer?

Title:Finale

Series; Hush Hush Saga

Author: Becca Fitzpatrick

Publisher: Simon and Schuster Children's Publishing

Release Date: October 23rd 2012

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Finally, last Wednesday, the cover of the last book in the Hush Hush Saga was revealed in MTV's Hollywood Crush! I am really excited with this one and since I've read all of the book in the series and love all their covers, this makes it all more exciting as to what the final cover would look like..:D


Definitely, all of the covers are gorgeous, I love all of them with the storm, waves and feather ensembles. Probably what makes the last cover different is that besides we could see Nora and Patch together clearly, there's also a change on the outfit: Nora's dress from black to white and Patch's wings to bare back....


Finale's cover is gorgeous but is not my favorite in the series.. I think I would love it to be more dramatic!! Anyways, I can't wait to read the book myself..:D


Here are the previous covers:

So what do you think about Finale's cover? Share your thoughts in the comments.>:D

Chapter 1

I’m not a party girl. The earsplitting music, the gyrating bodies, the inebriated smiles-not my thing. My ideal Saturday night would be at home, snuggling on the sofa and watching a rom-com with my boyfriend, Patch. Predictable, low-key…normal.
My name is Nora Grey, and while I used to be an average American teen, buying my clothes at the J. Crew outlet and spending my babysitting money on iTunes, normal and I have recently become perfect strangers. As in, I wouldn’t know normal if it marched up and poked me in the eye. Normal and I parted ways when Patch strolled into my life.
Patch has seven inches on me, operates on cold, hard logic, moves like smoke, and lives alone in a supersecret, super-swanky studio beneath Delphic Amusement Park. The sound of his voice, low and sexy, can melt my heart in three seconds flat. He’s also a fallen angel, kicked out of heaven for his flexibility when it comes to following rules. I personally believe Patch scared the pants of normal, and it took off running for the far side of the world.
I might not have normalcy, but I do have stability. Namely, in the form of my best friend of twelve years, Vee Sky. Vee and I have an unshakable bond that even a laundry list of differences can’t break. They say opposites attract, and Vee and I are proof of the validity of the statement. I am tall and slender with big curly hair that tests my patience, and I’m a Type A personality. Vee is even taller, with ash-blond hair, green serpentine eyes, and more curves than a roller coaster track. Almost always, Vee’s wishes trump mine. And unlike me, Vee lives for a good party.
Tonight Vee’s wish to seek out a good party took us across town to a four-story brick warehouse throbbing with club music, swimming with fake IDs and jam-packed with bodies producing enough sweat to take greenhouse gases to a whole new level. The layout inside was standard: a dance floor sandwiched between a stage and a bar. Rumor had it that a secret door behind the bar led to the basement, and the basement led to a man named Storky, who operated a thriving pirated anything business. Community religious leaders kept threatening to board up Coldwater’s hotbed of inquity for disorderly teens…also known as the Devil’s Handbag.
“Groove it, baby,” Vee yelled at me over the mindless thump, thump, thump of music, lacing her fingers through mine and swaying our hands over our heads. We were at the center of the dance floor, being jostled and bumped on every side.
“This is how Saturday night’s supposed to be. You and me gettin’ down, letting loose, working up good ol’-fashioned girl-sweat.” I did my best to give an enthusiastic nod, but the guy behind me kept stepping on the heel of my ballet flat, and at five-second intervals, I had to shove my foot back into it. The girl to my right was dancing with her elbows out, and if I wasn’t careful, I knew I’d get clipped in the shoulder.
“Maybe we should go get drinks,” I called to Vee.
 “It feels like Florida in here.”
“That’s ‘cause you and me are burning up this place. Check out the guy at the bar. He can’t take his eyes off your smokin’ moves.”
She licked her finger and pressed it too my bare shoulder, making a sizzling noise. I followed her gaze…and my heart lurched. Dante Matterazzi lifted a chin in acknowledgment. His next gesture was a little more subtle Wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer, he spoke to my mind. Funny, I would have pegged you for a stalker, I shot back.
Dante Matterazzi and I both belonged to a Nephilim race, hence the innate ability to mind-speak, but the similarities stopped there. Dante didn’t know how to give it a rest, and I didn’t know how much longer I could dodge him. I’d met him for the first time just this morning, but he was acting like our relationship had banked several years, at the very least. I left a message on your cell phone, he said Gee, I must have missed it. More like I deleted it. We need to talk.  I’m kind of busy. To emphasize my point, I rolled my hips and swung my arms from side to side, doing my best to imitate Vee, whose favorite television network was BET, and it showed. She had hip-hop stamped on her soul. A faint smile quirked Dante’s mouth. While you’re at it, get your friend to give you some pointers. You’re floundering. Definite fish-out-of-water material. Meet me out back in two. I glared at him. Busy, remember? This can’t wait. With a meaningful arch of his eyebrows, he disappeared into the crowd.
“His loss,” Vee said.
“He can’t handle the heat.”
 “About those drinks,” I said.
“Can I bring you a Coke?” Vee didn’t look ready to give up dancing anytime soon, and as much as I wanted to avoid Dante, I figured it was best to just get this over with. Suck it up and talk to him. The alternative was having him shadow me all night.
“Coke with lime,” Vee said. I edged my way off the dance floor and, after making sure Vee wasn’t watching me, ducked down a side hallway and out the back door. The alley was bathed in blue moonlight. A red Porsche Panamera was parked in front of me, and Dante leaned against it, arms folded loosely over his chest. Dante is six feet nine with the physique of a solider fresh out of boot camp. Case in point: He has more muscle tone in his neck than I have in my entire body. Tonight he was wearing baggy khakis and a white linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a deep V of smooth, hairless skin. Show-off.
“Nice car,” I said.
“It gets the job done.”
“So does my Volkswagen, and it cost considerably less.”
 “Takes more than four wheels to be a car.” Ugh.
 “So,” I said, tapping my foot. “What’s so urgent?”
“You still dating that fallen angel?” It was only the third time in as many hours that he’d asked. Twice by text messaging, and now face-to-face. My relationship with Patch had gone through a lot of ups and downs, but the current trend was upward. We weren’t without our issues, however. In a world where Nephilim and fallen angels would rather die than smile at each other, dating a fallen angel was a definite no-no.
I stood a little taller and said, “You know it.”
“Being careful?”
“Discreet is the watchword.” Patch and I didn’t need Dante to tell us it was wise not to make a lot of public appearances together. Nephilim and fallen angels never needed an excuse to teach each other a lesson, and racial tensions between the two groups were getting hotter with each passing day. It was autumn, October to be exact, and the Jewish month of Cheshvan was just days away. Every year during Cheshvan, fallen angels possess Nephilim bodies by the droves. Fallen angels have free rein to do as they please, and since It’s the only time during the year they can actually feel physical sensation, their creativity knows no bounds. They chase after pleasure, pain, and everything in between, playing parasites to their Nephilim hosts. For Nephilim, Cheshvan is a hellish prison. If Patch and I were so much as seen holding hands by the wrong individuals, we’d pay, one way or another.
“Let’s talk about your image,” Dante said. “We need to generate some positive media around your name. Boost Nephilim confidence in you.”
I gave a theatrical snap of my fingers. “Don’t you just hate it when your approval ratings are low?”
Dante frowned. “This isn’t a joke, Nora. Cheshvan starts in just over seventy-two hours, and that means war. Fallen angels on one side, us on the other. Everything rides on your shoulders-you’re the leader of the Nephilim army.” Queasiness pinched my stomach. I hadn’t exactly applied for the job. Thanks to my deceased father, a truly twisted man, I’d been forced to inherit the position. I’d sworn a blood oath to lead his army, and failure to do so would result in my death, and the death of my mom. No pressure. “Despite our cautious measures, there are rumors you’re dating a fallen angel, and that your loyalties are split.”
 “I am dating a fallen angel.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Think you could say it any louder?” I shrugged. If that’s what you really want. Then I opened my mouth, but dante was beside me in an instant, covering it.
“I know it kills you, but could you make my job easy just this once?” he murmured in my ear, glancing around at the shadows with obvious uneasiness, even though I was positive we were alone. I’d only been a purebred Nephilim twenty-four hours, but I trusted my new, sharper sixth sense. If there were eavesdroppers lurking around, I’d know.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked when he lowered his hand.
“Date Scott Parnell.” Scott Parnell was the first Nephilim I’d ever befriended, at the tender age of five. I hadn’t known a thing about his true heritage back then, but in recent months he’d taken on the roles of first my tormenter, then my partner in crime, and eventually my friend. There were no secrets between us. Likewise, there was no romantic chemistry.