Thursday, October 31, 2013

Entangled by S.E. Hall Cover Reveal

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Synopsis:
Things heat up, and not just the Georgia summertime, when Dane and Laney go head to head over plans for her new duplex. But Laney's got his number, and knows just how to coerce her bossy, domineering man. Spend the summer with the gang and find out...just how many is a crowd?
The members of the Evolve Crew are getting older; so is the content. Mature audiences recommended.
    Teaser
“Men shouldn’t know how to decorate anyway, using words like gaudy.” I let one brow raise and give him a suspicious smirk. “Do I need to learn how to fix the cars then? What if I get a flat?” “Oh baby,” he growls, his feet pounding the floor as he stalks toward me, “you questioning my manliness?” “Maybe,” I tease, slowing backing up. “Nancy.” My eyes dart anxiously around the room, mentally planning my escape route in this new territory. He laughs deeply, not a ‘ha ha that’s funny’ laugh, but more an ‘uh huh I’m coming to get ya’ sexy laugh. “Got it planned yet?” He grins knowingly, one eyebrow cocked. “Better run to wherever looks the most comfortable.” There’s no furniture yet, what is he talking about comfortable? Seeing the confusion on my face, he answers unasked. “Showing you how much of a man I am when I catch ya,” he creeps closer, “so I’d stay away from the tile, might hurt your back,” the mischief in his eyes ignites as he continues moving slowly closer, “or your knees.” Do I still have to pretend I don’t want to be caught? I love this side of Dane; the dominant, controlling, hunter than comes out more and more every day. The game’s precept itself is laughable; no one could question Dane’s virility. It seeps from his pores, an aura around him taking up all the air in a room. And he’s all mine. From his forever jostled brown locks and matching warm eyes, cocky lopsided grin and sculpted chest all the way to his eight back, that irresistible v and toned, tight ass- he is mine. “You wouldn’t!” I challenge, knowingly delightfully well that he would. “Oh baby, you know I can and will.” He flips open the button on his pants, that cocky grin suffocating me from where he stands, “I think you want me to.”  

Meet S.E. Hall

mepic (1) Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter
  S.E.Hall resides in Arkansas with her husband of 17 years and 3 beautiful daughters. When not in the stands watching her ladies play softball, she enjoys reading YA and NA romance.
Buy Emerge (Evolve #1) Now
Buy Embrace (Evolve #2) Now


Entangled Wrap

   

To Love a Highland Dragon by Ann Gimpel with Review & Chapter One Excerpt


To Love a Highland Dragon
Dragon Lore, Book 1
Ann Gimpel
Publisher: Taliesin
Release Date: 9/5/13
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Romance

A modern day psychiatrist and a dragon shifter stranded in time can’t escape their destiny, no matter how unlikely it seems.

Book Description:

In a cave deep beneath Inverness, a dragon shifter stirs and wakens. The cave is the same and his hoard intact, yet Lachlan senses something amiss. Taking his human form, he ventures above ground with ancient memories flooding him. But nothing is the same. His castle has been replaced by ungainly row houses. Men aren’t wearing plaids and women scarcely wear anything at all.

In Inverness for a year on a psychiatry fellowship, Dr. Maggie Hibbins watches an oddly dressed man pick his way out of a heather and gorse thicket. Even though it runs counter to her better judgment, she teases him about his strange attire. He looks so lost—and so unbelievably handsome —she takes him to a pub for a meal, to a barbershop, and then home. Along the way the hard-to-accept truth sinks in: he has to be a refugee from another era.

Never a risk-taker, Maggie’s carefully constructed life is about to change forever. Swept up in an ancient prophecy that links her to Lachlan and his dragon, she must push the edges of the impossible to save both the present and her heart.

Excerpt:
Chapter One
Kheladin listened to the rush of blood as his multi-chambered heart pumped. After eons of nothingness, it was a welcome sound. A cool, sandy floor pressed against his scaled haunches. One whirling eye flickered open, followed by the other.
Where am I? He peered around himself and blew out a sigh, followed by steam, smoke, and fire.
Thanks be to Dewi— Kheladin invoked the blood-red Celtic dragon goddess— I am still in my cave. It smelled right, but I wasna certain.
He rotated his serpent’s head atop his long, sinuous neck. Vertebrae cracked. Kheladin lowered his head and scanned the place he and Lachlan, his human bond mate, had barricaded themselves into. It might have only been days ago, but somehow, it didn’t seem like days, or even months or a few years. His body felt rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in centuries.
How long did I sleep?
He shook his head. Copper scales flew everywhere, clanking against a pile that had formed around him. More than anything, the glittery heap reinforced his belief that he’d been asleep for a very long time. Dragons shed their scales annually. From the looks of the pile circling his body, he’d gone through hundreds of molt cycles. But how? The last thing he remembered was retreating to the cave far beneath Lachlan’s castle and working with the mage to construct strong wards.
Had the black wyvern grown so powerful he’d been able to force his magic into the very heart of Kheladin’s fortress?
If that is true— If we were really his prisoner, why did I finally waken? Is Lachlan still within me?
Stop! I have to take things one at a time.
He returned his gaze to the nooks and crannies of his spacious cave. He’d have to take inventory, but it appeared his treasure hadn’t been disturbed. Kheladin blew a plume of steam upward, followed by an experimental gout of fire. The black wyvern, his sworn enemy since before the Crusades, may have bested him, but he hadn’t gotten his slimy talons on any of Kheladin’s gold or jewels.
He shook out his back feet and shuffled to the pool at one end of the cave where he dipped his snout and drank deeply. The water didn’t taste quite right. It wasn’t poisoned, but it held an undercurrent of metals that had never been there before. Kheladin rolled the liquid around in his mouth. He didn’t recognize much of what he tasted.
The flavors are not familiar because I have been asleep for so long. Aye, that must be it. Part of his mind recoiled; he suspected he was deluding himself.
“We’re awake.” Lachlan’s voice hummed in the dragon’s mind.
“Aye, that we are.”
“How long did we sleep?”
“I doona know.” Water streamed down the dragon’s snout and neck. He knew what would come next; he didn’t have to wait long.
“Let us shift. We think better in my body.” Lachlan urged Kheladin to cede ascendency.
“Ye only think that is true.” Kheladin pushed back. “I was figuring things out afore ye woke.”
“Aye, I’m certain ye were, but…” But what? “Och aye, my brain is thick and fuzzy, as if I havena used it for a verra long time.”
“Mine feels the same.”
The bond allowed only one form at a time. Since they were in Kheladin’s body, he still had the upper hand; the dragon didn’t think Lachlan was strong enough to force a shift without his help. There’d been a time when he could have but not now.
Was it safe to venture above ground? Kheladin recalled the last day he’d seen the sun. After a vicious battle in the great room of Lachlan’s castle, they’d retreated to his cave and taken their dragon form as a final resort. Rhukon, the black wyvern, had pretended he wanted peace. He’d come with an envoy that had turned out to be a retinue of heavily armed men…
Both he and Lachlan had expected Rhukon to follow them underground. Kheladin’s last thought before nothingness descended had been amazement their enemy hadn’t pursued them. Hmph. He did come after us but with magic. Magic strong enough to penetrate our wards.
“Aye, and I was just thinking the same thing,” Lachlan sniped in a vexed tone.
“We trusted him,” Kheladin snarled. “More the fools we were. We should have known.” Despite drinking, his throat was still raw. He sucked more water down and fought rising anger at himself for being gullible. Even if Lachlan hadn’t known better, he should have. His stomach cramped from hunger.
Kheladin debated the wisdom of making his way through the warren of tunnels leading to the surface in dragon form. There had always been far more humans than dragons. Mayhap it would be wiser to accede to Lachlan’s wishes before they crept from their underground lair to rejoin the world of men.
“Grand idea.” Lachlan’s response was instantaneous, as was his first stab at shifting.
It took half a dozen attempts. Kheladin was far weaker than he’d imagined and Lachlan so feeble he was almost an impediment. Finally, once a shower of scales cleared, Lachlan’s emaciated body stood barefoot and naked in the cave.
*
Lacking the sharp night vision he enjoyed as a dragon, because his magic was so diminished, he kindled a mage light and glanced down at himself. Ribs pressed against his flesh, and a full beard extended halfway down his chest. Turning his head to both sides, he saw shoulder blades so sharp he was surprised they didn’t puncture his skin. Tawny hair fell in tangles past his waist. The only thing he couldn’t see was his eyes. Absent a glass, he was certain they were the same crystal-clear emerald color they’d always been.
Lachlan stumbled across the cave to a chest where he kept clothing. Dragons didn’t need such silly accoutrements; humans did. He sucked in a harsh breath. The wooden chest was falling to ruin. He tilted the lid against a wall; it canted to one side. Many of his clothes had moldered into unusable rags, but items toward the bottom had fared better. He found a cream-colored linen shirt with long, flowing sleeves, a black and green plaid embroidered with the insignia of his house—a dragon in flight—and soft, deerskin boots that laced to his knees.
He slid the shirt over his head and wrapped the plaid around himself, taking care to wind the tartan so its telltale insignia was hidden in its folds. Who knew if the black wyvern—or his agents—lurked near the mouth of the cave? Lachlan bent to lace his boots. A crimson cloak with only a few moth holes completed his outfit. He finger-combed his hair and smoothed his unruly beard. “Good God, but I must look a fright,” he muttered. “Mayhap I can sneak into my castle and set things aright afore anyone sees me. Surely whichever of my kinsmen are inhabiting the castle will be glad the master of the house has finally returned.”
Lachlan worked on bolstering a confidence he was far from feeling. He’d nearly made it to the end of the cave, where a rock-strewn path led upward, when he doubled back to get a sword and scabbard—just in case things weren’t as sanguine as he hoped. He located a thigh sheath and a short dagger as well, fumbling to attach them beneath his kilt. Underway once again, he hadn’t made it very far along the upward-sloping tunnel that ended at a well-hidden opening not far from the postern gate of his castle, when he ran into rocks littering the way.
He worked his way around progressively larger boulders until he came to a huge one that totally blocked the tunnel. Lachlan stared at it in disbelief. When had that happened? In all the time he’d been using these passageways, they’d never been blocked by rock fall. If he weren’t so weak, summoning magic to shove the rock over enough to allow him to pass wouldn’t be a problem. As it was, simply walking uphill proved a challenge.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between a grimy thumb and forefinger. His mage light weakened.
If I can’t even keep a light going, how in the goddess’ name will I be able to move that rock?
Lachlan hunkered next to the boulder and let his light die while he ran possibilities through his head. His stomach growled and clenched in hunger. Had he come through however much time had passed to die like a dog of starvation in his own cave?
“No, by God.” He slammed a fist against the boulder. The air sizzled. Magic. The rock was illusion. Not real.
Counter spell. I need the counter spell.
Maybe I don’t. He stood, took a deep breath, and walked into the huge rock. The air did more than sizzle; it flamed. If he’d been human, it would have burned him, but dragons were impervious to fire, as were dragon shifters. Lachlan waltzed through the rock, cursing Rhukon as he went. Five more boulders blocked his tunnel, each more charged with magic than the last.
Finally, sweating and cursing, he rounded the last curve; the air ahead lightened. He wanted to throw himself on the ground and screech his triumph.
Not a good idea.
“Let me out. Ye have no idea what we’ll find.”
Kheladin’s voice in his mind was welcome but the idea wasn’t. “Ye are right. Because we have no idea what is out there, we stay in my skin until we are certain. We can hide in this form far more easily than we can in yours.”
“Since when did we begin hiding?” The dragon sounded outraged.
“Our magic is weak.” Lachlan adopted a placating tone. “’Tis prudent to be cautious until it fully recovers.”
“No dragon would ever say such a thing.” Deep, fiery frustration rolled off Kheladin.
Steam belched from Lachlan’s mouth. “Stop that,” he hissed, but his mind voice was all but obliterated by wry dragon laughter.
“Why? I find it amusing that ye think an eight foot tall dragon with elegant copper scales and handsome, green eyes would be difficult to sequester. A hesitation. “And infuriating that we need to conceal ourselves at all. Need I remind you we’re warriors?”
“Quite taken with yourself, eh?” Lachlan sidestepped the issue of hiding; he didn’t want to discuss it further and risk being goaded into something unwise. Kheladin chuckled and pushed more steam through Lachlan’s mouth, punctuated by a few flames.
Lost in a sudden rush of memories, Lachlan slowed his pace. As a mage, he would have lived hundreds of years, but bonded to a dragon, he’d live forever. In preparation, he’d studied long years with Aether, a wizard and dragon shifter himself. Along the way, Lachlan had forsaken much—a wife and bairns, for starters, for what woman would put up with a husband who was so rarely at home?—to bond with a dragon, forming their partnership. Once Lachlan’s magic was finally strong enough, there’d been the niggling problem of locating that special dragon willing to join its life with his.
Because the bond conferred immortality on both the dragon and their human partner, dragons were notoriously picky. After all, dragon and mage would be welded through eternity. The magic could be undone, but the price was high: mages were stripped of power and their dragon mates lost much of theirs, too, as the bond unraveled. Lachlan had hunted for over a hundred years before finding Kheladin. The pairing had been instantaneous on both sides. He’d just settled in with his dragon, and was about to hunt down a wife to grace his castle, when the black wyvern had attacked.
“What are ye waiting for?” Kheladin sounded testy. “Daydreaming is a worthless pursuit. My grandmother is two thousand years old, and she moves faster than you.”
Lachlan snorted. He didn’t bother to explain there wasn’t much point in jumping through the opening in the gorse and thistle bushes and right into Rhukon’s arms. An unusual whirring filled the air, like the noisiest beehive he’d ever heard. His heart sped up, but the sound receded. “What the hell was that?” he muttered and made his way closer to the world outside his cave.
Finally at the end of the tunnel, Lachlan stepped to the opening, shoved some overgrown bushes out of the way, and peered through. What he saw was so unbelievable, he squeezed his eyes tight shut, opened them, and looked again. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. Worse, an ungainly, shiny cylinder roared past, making the same whirring noise he’d puzzled over moments before. He fell backward into the cave, breath harsh in his throat, and landed on his rump. Not only was the postern gate no longer there, neither was his castle. A long, unattractive row of attached structures stood in its stead.
“Holy godhead. What do I do now?”
“We go out there and find something to eat,” the dragon growled.
Lachlan gritted his teeth together. Kheladin had a good point. It was hard to think on an empty stomach.
“Here I was worried about Rhukon. At least I understood him. I fear whatever lies in wait for us will require all our skill.”
“Ye were never a coward. It is why I allowed the bond. Get moving.”
The dragon’s words settled him. Ashamed of his indecisiveness, Lachlan got to his feet, brushed dirt off his plaid, and worked his way through the bushes hiding the cave’s entrance. As he untangled stickers from the finely spun wool of his cloak and his plaid, he gawked at a very different world from the one he’d left. There wasn’t a field—or an animal—in sight. Roadways paved with something other than dirt and stones were punctuated by structures so numerous, they made him dizzy. The hideous incursion onto his lands stretched in every direction. Lachlan balled his hands into fists. He’d find out what had happened, by God. When he did, he’d make whoever had erected all those abominations take them down.
An occasional person walked by in the distance. They shocked him even more than the buildings and roads. For starters, the males weren’t wearing plaids, so there was no way to tell their clan. Females were immodestly covered. Many sported bare legs and breeks so tight he saw the separation between their ass cheeks. Lachlan’s groin stirred, cock hardening. Were the lassies no longer engaging in modesty or subterfuge and simply asking to be fucked? Or was this some new garb that befit a new era?
He detached the last thorn, finally clear of the thicket of sticker bushes. Where could he find a market with vendors? Did market day even still exist in this strange environment?
“Holy crap! A kilt, and an old-fashioned one at that. Tad bit early in the day for a costume ball, isn’t it?” A rich female voice laced with amusement, sounded behind him.
Lachlan spun, hands raised to call magic. He stopped dead once his gaze settled on a lass nearly as tall as himself, which meant she was close to six feet. She turned so she faced him squarely. Bare legs emerged from torn fabric that stopped just south of her female parts. Full breasts strained against scraps of material attached to strings tied around her neck and back. Her feet were encased in a few straps of leather. Long, blonde hair eddied around her, the color of sheaves of summer wheat.
His cock jumped to attention. His hands itched to make a grab for her breasts or her ass. She had an amazing ass: round and high and tight. What was expected of him? The lass was dressed in such a way as to invite him to simply tear what passed for breeks aside and enter her. Had times changed so drastically that women provoked men into public sex? He glanced about, half expecting to see couples having it off with one another willy-nilly.
“Well,” she urged. “Cat got your tongue?” She placed her hands on her hips. The motion stretched the tiny bits of flowered fabric that barely covered her nipples still further.
Lachlan bowed formally, straightened, and waited for her to hold out a hand for him to kiss. “I am Lachlan Moncrieffe, my lady. It is a pleasure to—”
She erupted into laughter—and didn’t hold out her hand. “I’m Maggie,” she managed between gouts of mirth. “What are you? A throwback to medieval times? You can drop the Sir Galahad routine.”
Lachlan felt his face heat. “I fear I do not understand the cause of your merriment … my lady.”
Maggie rolled her midnight blue eyes. “Oh, brother. Did you escape from a mental hospital? Nah, you’d be in pajamas then, not those fancy duds.” She dropped her hands to her sides and started to walk past him.
“No. Wait. Please, wait.” Lachlan cringed at the whining tone in his voice. The dragon was correct that the Moncrieffe was a proud house. They bowed to no one.
She eyed him askance. “What?”
“I am a stranger in this town.” He winced at the lie. Once upon a time, he’d been master of these lands. Apparently that time had long since passed. “I am footsore and hungry. Where might I find victuals and ale?”
Her eyes widened. Finely arched blonde brows drew together over a straight nose dotted by a few freckles. “Victuals and ale,” she repeated disbelievingly.
“Aye. Food and drink, in the common vernacular.”
“Oh, I understood you well enough,” Maggie murmured. “Your words, anyway. Your accent’s a bit off.” His stomach growled again, embarrassingly loud. “Guess you weren’t kidding about being hungry.” She eyed him appraisingly. “Do you have any money?”
Money. Too late he thought of the piles of gold coins and priceless gems lying on the floor of Kheladin’s cave. In the world he’d left, his word had been as good as his gold. He opened his mouth, but she waved him to silence. “I’ll stand you for a pint and some fish and chips. You can treat me next time.”
He heard her mutter, “Yeah right,” under her breath as she curled a hand around his arm and tugged. “Come on. I have a couple of hours and then I’ve got to go to work. I’m due in at three today.”
Lachlan trotted along next to her. She let go of him like he was a viper when he tried to close a hand over the one she’d laid so casually on his person. He cleared his throat and wondered what he could safely ask that wouldn’t give his secrets away. He could scarcely believe this alien landscape was Scotland, but if he asked what country they were in, or what year it was, she’d think him mad. He wondered if the black wyvern had used some diabolical dark magic to transport his cave to another locale, and then thought better of it. Even Rhukon wasn’t that powerful.
“In here.” She pointed to a door beneath a flashing sigil. He gawked at it. One minute it was red, the next blue, the next green, illuminating the word Open. What manner of magic was this? “Don’t tell me you have temporal lobe epilepsy.” She stared at him. “It’s only a neon sign. It doesn’t bite. Move on through the door. There’s food on the other side,” she added slyly.
Feeling like a rube, Lachlan searched for a latch, didn’t find one, and pushed his shoulder against the door. It opened, and he held it with a hand so Maggie could enter first. “After you, my lady,” he murmured.
“Stop that.” She spoke into his ear as she went past. “No more my ladies. Got it?”
“I think so.” He followed her into a low ceilinged room lined with wooden planks. It was the first thing that looked familiar. Parts of it, anyway. Men—kilt-less men—sat at the bar, hefting glasses and chatting. The tables were empty.
“What’ll it be, Mags?” a man with a towel tied around his waist called from behind the bar.
“Couple of pints and two of today’s special. Come to think of it,” she eyed Lachlan, “make that three of the special.”
“May I inquire just what the special is?” Lachlan asked, thinking he might want to order something different.
Maggie waved a hand at a black board suspended over the bar. “You can read?”
“Of course.” He resented the inference he might be uneducated but swallowed back harsh words.
“Excellent. Then move.” She shoved her body into his in a distressingly familiar way for such a communal location. Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed the contact if they were alone and he were free to take advantage of it… “All the way to the back,” she hissed into his ear. “That way if you slip up, no one will hear.”
He bristled. Lachlan Moncrieffe did not sit in the back of any establishment. He was always given a choice table near the center of things. He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it.
She scooped an armful of flattened scrolls off the bar before following him to the back of the room. Once there, she dumped them onto the table between them. He wanted to ask what they were but decided he should pretend to know. He turned the top sheaf of papers toward him and scanned the close-spaced print. Many of the words were unfamiliar, but what leapt off the page was The Inverness Courier and presumably the current date: June 10, 2012.
It had been 1683 when Rhukon had chivied him into the dragon’s cave. Three-hundred twenty-nine years, give or take a month or two. At least he was still in Inverness—for all the good it did him.
“You look as if you just saw a ghost.” Maggie spoke quietly.
“No. I am quite fine. Thank you for inquiring … my, er…” His voice trailed off.
“Good.” She nodded approvingly. “You’re learning.” The bartender slapped two mugs of ale on the scarred wooden table.
“On your tab, Mags?” he asked.
She nodded. “Except you owe me so much, you’ll never catch up.”
Lachlan took a sip of what turned out to be weak ale. It wasn’t half bad but could have stood an infusion of bitters. He puzzled over what Maggie meant. Why would the barkeep owe her? His nostrils flared. She must work at the establishment—probably as a damsel of ill repute from the looks of her. Mayhap, she hadn’t been paid her share of whatever she earned in quite some time.
Protectiveness flared deep inside him. Maggie should not have to earn her way lying on her back. He’d see to it she had a more seemly position.
Aye, once I find my way around this bizarre new world. Money wouldn’t be a problem, but changing four-hundred-year-old gold coins into today’s tender might be. Surely there were still banks that might accomplish something like that.
One thing at a time, he reminded himself.
“So.” She skewered him with her blue gaze—Norse eyes if he’d ever seen a set—and took a sip from her mug. “What did you see in the newspaper that upset you so much?”
“Nothing.” He tried for an offhand tone.
“Bullshit,” she said succinctly. “I’m a doctor. A psychiatrist. I read people’s faces quite well, and you look as if you’re perilously close to going into shock on me.”


My Review: 4 stars
What a fabulous imagination Ann must have. I think I'd love to live in her head while she's writing, just to see how she gets her ideas and transforms them into the written word. First, I wanted to read this book because it has to do with dragons. They're sexy as all get out, and I like that more people are writing about them. Maggie is a strong, independent woman who just manages to meet a Scotsman who is merged with a dragon. Lucky girl. She also happens to be a witch, she just denies it. She's a doctor and a scientist, none of that mumbo jumbo for her. Until she meets Lachlan, he's the Scotsman who is sexy as hell and she can't keep her mind off him for more than a few minutes. I loved that Ann used a lot of different lores in creating her story; Celtic Gods, Mages, Witches and Dragons. That's some powerful stuff to be able to tap into. I loved reading this because I couldn't get the sound of a sexy Scotsman talking out of my head everytime Lachlan had something to say. Yeah, I'm a sucker for a Scottish accent. But that does not negate that this was a good book, with very creative uses of existing lore, and great characters. Ann once again has done a great job of sucking me into her world for an afternoon of wonderful adventure. 

About the Author: 

Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent.  Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing.  A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Several paranormal romance novellas are available in e-format. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback. Look for three more urban fantasy novels coming this summer and fall: To Tame a Highland Dragon, Earth’s Requiem and Earth’s Blood.

A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.
          
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)


The Virgin Charmer by Rachel Olson Giveaway with Excerpt Release Day Blitz



Tite: The Virgin Charmer (The Triple Goddess Trilogy: Book One)
Author: Rachel A Olson
Genre: Paranormal Romance

BLURB:

Hope Richards has only ever known the life of a big city girl. When her boss gives her an ultimatum, she decided to try out the country life during her forced vacation. After falling in love with a mysterious old mansion on the edge of a town that time forgot, Hope finds herself caught up in a whirlwind of someone else's crazy love obsession, and realizes in the middle of it all how lacking her own life is in that department. Hope is faced with a decision: return to the mundane life she thought was her passion, or find a way to experience something far stronger that she secretly yearns for.

EXCERPT:

“Oh, no he did not!” Abigail yelled, throwing her hair over her right shoulder to dramatize her anger. Hope was momentarily blinded by visions of Luci Tristan, the stuck up prom queen from her high school days. She had to fight to hold in a giggle.

“Relax, hun. He’s obviously got some pent up anger he needs to release. Let him use you as his verbal target for now. It’s better than him using your face as his punching bag.” Abigail stared at Hope in absolute shock.

“I cannot believe you just suggested that my Garrett has the ability to hit me.” Hope raised both brows at her younger friend, a bit shocked herself.

“And I cannot believe you’re backing him after he called you a bitch.” The two stared at each other, stuck in a battle of estrogen. Finally, they simultaneously burst into laughter, the air quickly clearing of all bitter anger.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be so harsh on him. I just don’t understand what his problem is. He was perfectly fine until…” Hope nodded knowingly when Abigail refused to finish her thought.

“Until I came along. I know what you mean, and I don’t understand it either. He acts like he wants to be my friend, and when I tell him it’s not an option, he throws a kiddie tantrum.”

“You told him that?” Abigail’s voice was full of true shock and admiration. “Why would you tell him that?”

“Because your friendship is what matters to me. I have no interest in getting to know him.” Hope inwardly kicked herself for lying through her teeth. No matter how many times she told herself the same thing, she knew she was lying. The magnetic pull that Garrett sustained was addictive. Each time he was around, it grew harder to resist, and each time he was away, the hollow ache in Hope’s chest grew. She would be absolutely insane if she didn’t recognize how she truly felt. Not that it mattered in the least. She could never allow herself to get close to Garrett.

“You are a true friend, Hope.” Abigail, gave Hope a light hug, beaming with gratitude.

“It’s nothing. He’s just a stupid little boy. I’m eight years older than both of you. I’d feel like I was robbing the cradle!” Hope forced herself to laugh alongside her friend, but her stomach was in knots. For once, her head and her heart were on the same page. For once, Hope wanted to shoot both to make them stop working at all.


AUTHOR BIO: 


Somewhere amidst her forty-hour job and playtime with her three-year-old, Rachel finds time to walk the streets of worlds only existing on manmade paper. She resides in small college town Northwestern Nebraska with her young son, just a few blocks from a city park, the public schools, and her parents. She enjoys socializing with adults, sipping strawberry wine, and head banging to music that doesn't carry a beat worth the effort of rock star hair slinging.

"The paranormal world is a much more desired realm. There's no limit to possibilities, no comparison to probabilities, no concept of actualities. There's no solid platform for racism, judgment, or hierarchy. It is exactly the manifestation you choose it to be, darkness and death included."
  
AUTHOR LINKS:

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Vampyre Kisses by Elizabeth Kolodziej Review with Excerpt & Character Bio



Title: Vampyre Kisses
Author: Elizabeth J. Kolodziej
Genre: Paranormal Romance

Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours

Synopsis:

Vampyre Kisses is an enthralling story about a young woman named Faith, who was content with her life, but deep down craved more excitement. Then a mysterious man named Trent enters her life and everything changes. Surprising to Faith, Trent is a green-eyed vampire from Ireland. She is even more surprised to find out that she is a witch, and the last of her kind. Faith finds out that she is destined to restore her witch line and becomes more powerful as she gains confidence and knowledge, but danger lurks everywhere. Especially when unknown assailants steal the most important gems from the vampire master and werewolf royalty. Now surrounded by a world full of mystifying vampires and werewolves, can Faith gain enough power to help her friends and rescue the stolen gems?

Excerpt:
After a half hour, I decided to sit down for a minute to catch my breath. I ordered a shot and a water to get some liquid into me, and searched around for Mac. He wasn’t visible anywhere over the mass of bobbing heads and twisting bodies. As I continued to look around, I noticed two men at a corner table observing the dancers. One of the men must have felt my eyes on him, because he turned to look at me. He gave me a half smile and got out of his seat to walk over to my table. A slower-paced song with a good beat came on. I looked up into his pale green eyes and he offered his hand. I took it, and he led me to the dance floor. He put his strong hands on my back and we moved to the music. His curly dark reddish-brown hair fell past his ears and framed his flawless oval face, complemented by deep-set round eyes and a pointed nose. He licked his thick lips and showed his perfect white teeth with a small smile. With my heels on, our eyes met perfectly opposite one another. His silk black shirt swayed back and forth as we moved. A few buttons were undone to show his smooth chest. Leather pants hung on his hips that pressed against my bare thighs at different points when we moved. We stared at each other during each song that played; I felt like a feather floating in the warm brisk air.
With a tap on my shoulder, I turned around to find Mac staring at me, then at the man. He put his lips to my ear: “I need to talk to you for a sec.” I turned back to the man and put one finger up to let him know I would be right back. He nodded, and I turned to follow Mac off the dance floor.
“That man is bad news,” he said, his lips next to my ear.


Faith Character Bio:

BASIC INFORMATION
Full name: Faith Scott
Nickname(s) or Alias: Little one (from Trent ::grin::)
Gender: Female
Species: Witch
Age: early-mid twenties depending on which book you are reading
Birthday: Taurus baby!
Sexuality: Straight
City or town of birth: New York
Currently lives: New York, but traveling
Languages spoken: English
Relationship Status: Together with Trent ... currently ...

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Height: Five seven
Weight: buck twenty
Figure/build: Athletic but curvy
Hair color: Brown Curly
Eye color: Green
Skin/fur/etc colour: White
Faith Scott starts off in Vampyre Kisses as a real simple kind of girl. No tattoos, no piercings and a total innocent of the supernatural world. The only piece of jewelry she wears every day is the heart shaped locket her father gave her. She is just a jeans and a tshirt kind of girl. However, she did use to smoke and her drinking can look obsessive to some people. But I would personally need a glass of vodka every time someone tried to kill me too.
Faith turns out to be the type of witch that wants to solve the issue rather than battle it out over blood. At least that is how she begins her journey in Vampyre Kisses. Her character does truly grow has the series goes on. I think her biggest fear thus far is hurting the people around her accidentally by getting them kidnapped or killed because of people coming after her. She is the last witch in the world and there is a Salt Whip on her butt most of her days trying to kill her. A Salt Whip being what a slayer is to a vampire.
What I love most about Faith is her taste in music though. She is a Humble Gods lover and does the head banging in the morning to some Kottonmouth Kings and other punk rock hip hop bands. She loves all kinds of music and is not ashamed of that at all.
However, what AMAZES me about Faith is how her combat skills have grown. First she learns from Akilah and than from Morgan AND THAN from Vincent and a slayer. You’ll have to read the books to figure out how that happens, but her fighting styles are so diverse because of the different types of mentors she has had over the years. I believe in Vampyre Kisses her favorite element is water and earth but this turns to fire later on. Though she is pretty profound with most elemental magic. Her weapon of choice (besides magic): throwing knife.
I truly believe you will get a kick out of Faith as a character. She grows a lot more than a lot of characters you might read about...especially in Witch Devotions. So give Vampyre Kisses a shot. You may be surprised with how much you fall in love with Faith.

My Review: 4 stars
This was an interesting book. There was so much new lore that Elizabeth came up with that was just amazing. This was well written, the characters developed nicely along with the relationships between them. The storyline moved along nicely. I really liked the fact that Faith was able to contribute to whatever was going on instead of just being the helpless girl. I loved that her friends stood behind her and helped guide her through the new and dangerous world that she had discovered. Loved Trent! But not as much as Faith obviously did. This was a fantastic start to what I hope will be a long and interesting series.

Author Bio:

Elizabeth J Kolodziej, a young fiction writer originally from Torrance California, is a smart and original thinker who has researched the origins of vampires, werewolves, and witches for many years. She writes her books from the knowledge she has gained while trying to be as original and inspiring as possible. Her books encompass both true folklore facts along with innovative ideas motivated by the great writers around her. This book is her first, but not her last, in a new series entitled Vampyre Kisses.

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