June 30, 2012

Review: Shots by Theodore Quester



Shots
Author: Theodore Quester
Genre: Crime/Thriller
Release Date: February 15, 2012

Summary:

Nic Callahan Gonzales feels like he has his life under control, selling a little pot, making more than a little money. But he’s living a lie, and he’s tired of keeping secrets -- like how he’s hooked up with his little brother Bobby’s best friend Sara, knowing all the while that his brother has more than friendly feelings for her. Even if Bobby has a girlfriend, even if it’s easy, it just isn’t right. Bobby meanwhile misses hanging out with Sara – his girlfriend Molly can’t stand her, and he’s tired of choosing between them. Things start to change when Sara invites Nic to a party – and the two get busted. Nic gets off with community service, and starts working as a barista in a Cuban coffee shop. But his wage and tips won’t pay off his drug-dealing debts, and when the Martinez brothers demand a meeting, Nic pulls too many espresso shots for himself, then brings a gun instead of money to the payoff; now, in the aftermath, he must find a way to deal with the brothers and their boss, drug kingpin John Henry – as well as his probation officer and his own tag-along younger brother – all without letting anyone else get hurt.  

Review:

Shots is a fast paced crime thriller novel that follows Nic Gonzales as he's trying to repeatedly get himself out of sticky situations, all while dating his little brother's best friend. There are tons of thugs, drugs, guns, and espresso to keep the reader entertained throughout the book. The plot seemed a bit predictable and cliched, but was fun to read anyway. I liked seeing Nic get himself in tons of trouble and then watch as he tried to make things right. I thought the espresso part of the novel gave it some originality, but it didn't seem to fit into the story that well. The characters seemed stereotyped and flat, and the narrative itself felt the same way to me. Other readers will surely like the rush of the plot, it just didn't seem to be for me.

  

Review: The Living Room by Bill Rolfe




The Living Room
Author: Bill Rolfe
Genre: Fiction
Release Date: January 12, 2012 


Amazon Summary:

When success and even love are not enough, you need a miracle...

Daniel Clay has good looks, money, and a rising career as a New York investment advisor. Meanwhile, his personal life is barren of love and family. But when a distant relative dies and leaves him a house in England, Daniel embarks on a life-changing journey--toward love and his soul's awakening.

He meets and falls in love with Claire, a children's palliative care nurse. With her help, he opens his home and heart to comfort young patients in their final days. As Claire tends to the children in a beautiful glassed-in room overlooking the sea, Daniel prays for miracles. Just when his prayers are answered, a mysterious illness strikes him down and relentlessly drains away his life. With no hope for a cure, Daniel holds fast to a deep secret that he can never reveal. And now, he needs a miracle of his own.
Review:
The Living Room is an intriguing look inside the life of Daniel Clay, a man who believes he has it all in life. After realizing that perhaps he is missing something important, he takes a vacation to England to settle a family estate. There he meets Claire and finds what he has been missing. He finds true meaning in his life and fills a void in his soul he didn't know existed before Claire.
The novel is a wonderfully heartfelt story, even if the plot seemed a bit cliche and overused. The backstory behind the novel itself, which is shared by the author, is truly interesting and makes the book all the more meaningful. The narrative flows well and Daniel's character development is quite evident - although predictable. This is a good old fashioned story of love, hope, and finding happiness. A short but great book worth reading.
 

Review: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn



Gone Girl
Author: Gillian Flynn
Genre: Suspense/Thriller
Release Date: June 5, 2012

Summary:

Marriage can be a real killer.

One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. The Chicago Tribune proclaimed that her work “draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.” Gone Girl’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit and deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.

On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer?

As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?

With her razor-sharp writing and trademark psychological insight, Gillian Flynn delivers a fast-paced, devilishly dark, and ingeniously plotted thriller that confirms her status as one of the hottest writers around.

Review:

There are always two words I use when describing Gillian Flynn’s novels: dark and twisted. I am a dedicated reader of Flynn’s and I mean these words as the highest compliment. All of her books have been the stuff of twisted nightmares, and her latest novel, Gone Girl, is no exception.

Gone Girl is a story about a marriage, the disappearance of the wife, Amy, on their fifth wedding anniversary and the subsequent police search and investigation that follows. The book is told in three parts, which really allows the reader a deep look inside the workings of this couple and their marriage. Every chapter in the book is in alternating points of view, oscillating between the husband, Nick, and Amy. In the first part of the book, we see Nick’s view of the disappearance in present time and we hear Amy’s version of past events through diary entries. We really come to empathize with Amy and her struggles to make her marriage work, to make her husband happy, and to do what’s needed of her. We also get to see Nick’s side of the story and we learn some unfavorable things about him that turn the reader against him. The second and third parts of the story are told in present time, but continue to be in alternating points of view between Amy and Nick and we learn what has really happened in the disappearance of Amy.

At first glance, Gone Girl is a deep, brutally honest look inside a marriage. It may be a troubled marriage – one with problems that most couples face. But thrown in along the way are subtle details that make you wonder what is really going on. Amy has disappeared and we find out that Nick and she were having marital issues. Why does Nick have these little secrets that don’t seem like much, but end up chewing away at our subconscious? The ultimate questions: What is really going on here? What really happened to Amy?

Flynn doesn’t let the reader wonder about things for long. In the second part of the book, she unveils the true happenings of the disappearance and of the circumstances leading up to it. All the little inconsistencies in some of the character’s stories are laid out and begin to fall into place. Even though it is blatantly explained what happened to Amy in the beginning of the second part of the book, Flynn doesn’t just stop there. She delves deeper into the inner workings of this couple and their marriage – into their very hearts and minds. What we end up seeing there is astonishing, bewildering, and sickening. Still, Flynn manages to write the story with such poise that it seems completely believable that this has occurred and could possibly – probably? – happen outside the frame of a novel as well.

Flynn’s writing style is some of the best I’ve ever experienced. The words seem to flow effortlessly together and the plot just seems like it was inevitable, like it was going to happen this way no matter what. The characters are so honest and flawed – so messed up – that they are utterly believable and heartfelt. The storyline is seamless and perfectly executed. She pulls you in from the very first sentence and doesn’t loosen her grip until well after you’ve read the last page. Flynn’s writing is addictive and I literally couldn’t stop reading the book. I had to see what happened next, had to try to figure out what was really going on. To me, that’s a sure sign of a great author – not being able to extricate yourself from the novel, even long after you’ve finished the last page. I certainly couldn’t pull myself away, much to the neglect of my household duties and my husband’s chagrin and when I had to stop reading for a bit, I went into a kind of stupor – wondering what could possibly be happening and trying to figure out how things were going to end.

Gone Girl definitely keeps with Flynn’s writing style of dark and twisted suspense thrillers, even though this wasn’t as outside the box as her other two novels were. This might’ve been even scarier because it was actually plausible. Flynn has written some of the best suspense thrillers on the market today and I am thoroughly pleased to say that Gone Girl does not disappoint.



June 29, 2012

The Catalyst Tour: Excerpt & Giveaway!


The Catalyst
Author: Zoe Winters
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: June 6, 2012

For more info on the books & to buy copies, click here.



Blurb:

It started with one lost pup; it may end in a war…
Panthers don’t do responsibility. They don’t do long-term relationships. They definitely don’t raise kids. But when Z discovers a young wolf in the forest, he takes him in, unaware of the powerful beings hunting the pup.Fiona is a witch who can’t leave her house; the birds have told her something bad will happen. The mailbox is as far as she’ll go, but even that may provide more danger than she’s bargained for. When a wolf pup stumbles into her garden, her safe, wrapped-up world heads for a free fall.But along with danger, the pup brings a chance at love—a chance an agoraphobic witch and a bachelor panther shifter aren’t likely to find on their own.
  

Just have to make it to the mailbox. Everything will be okay. Fiona Patrone stared out the window at the lonely box at the end of the driveway. Her house was surrounded by trees in a heavily wooded area of Golatha Falls—so far out it was amazing the mailman delivered. And yet it felt so open and unknown out there. It was safer inside.

There probably isn’t any mail. Just check it tomorrow. Nothing important. Not worth going out. The thoughts tunneled through her mind like vicious moles. If she didn’t venture out, she’d be even more a prisoner of her own mind and fears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone past the mailbox. If she got to the point where she couldn’t even get that far…

The birds outside screeched then, chattering warnings, screaming the same awful things they screamed at her every day. If you go out there, something bad will happen. She believed them. Birds had no reason to lie. They were excellent seers, so much so, that for centuries people had read bird entrails, not realizing that you needed a live bird to get any knowledge of value.

Something bad. They could at least give her a little detail, some clue as to what she should fear, but the threat remained the same—vague and foreboding as ever.
Fiona had been able to understand the language of animals before she could understand that of humans—a rare and special gift for a witch to inherit. Though she’d always seen it as a curse. If not for those damned birds, she’d be outside living her life. Maybe she would have found love, a job, something.

Well, she had a job—on the Internet. Her money was direct-deposited. She ordered her clothes online and had her groceries delivered. Thanks to the web, agoraphobia had never been so easy. At least from a logistics standpoint. 

She took in a slow, measured breath, her hand poised over the doorknob. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. Fiona mentally repeated it like a subliminal message she prayed would take hold. The doorknob clicked in her hand. She moved through what felt like invisible molasses as she forced herself out the door and into the throng of screeching, angry birds.

The wind had a new crispness. Almost Halloween. As a witch, shouldn’t she be in her element right about now? But the idea of ghosts and goblins and veils thinning served to make the whole ordeal seem more dangerous.

Fifty-five steps. She counted them every day because counting them was the only way she could make herself get there. It wasn’t far. She could run back into her house if the birds were right.

The mailbox held nothing of interest: an electric bill that could have waited until tomorrow. On her way back, step twenty-four, she became aware of the eerie silence. The birds had stopped their squawking, and a stillness blanketed the yard. She would have run straight for the front door except for the plaintive cry coming from somewhere nearby. 

Ignore it. It’s not your concern, she told herself. Thirty-five. But the noise happened again. So sad, scared. Her heart softened at the sound. She’d want someone to help her if she were in distress. Fiona tucked the electric bill into the waistband of her jeans and struggled through the wild growth of the front yard. She hadn’t worked on the garden in five years, and it showed.

When she reached the side of the house, she found a wolf pup with wide, brown eyes, crying. He was old enough that he should have started learning the language of his kind, but he hadn’t. There were no words she could pick up and decipher. She could still get emotions and basic information, especially if those emotions were strong. In some circles, this made Fiona dangerous; in others, it would make her a pawn of those who might want to capitalize on such information.

The pup was lost, hungry, scared.

She didn’t sense a mother wolf nearby. Had he been abandoned? Her mind screamed at her to leave him there. But he was so hungry and pathetic. She couldn’t stop herself from scooping him up and taking him inside.

She sat him on the kitchen counter, and he stared curiously at her, turning his little wolf head to the side. He was reddish-brown and white, the cutest thing she’d seen in forever. At least he seemed old enough to be weaned.

She’d made a roast the previous night and wasn’t sure how that would fly with the little guy, but it was what she had. She cut some meat up and put it on the counter. The pup’s tail wagged as he gobbled up the food. She placed a bowl of water down, and he took care of that, too.

He stared at her from the top of the counter as if to say What next? Oh wow, yeah. She hadn’t thought through that part. If he was just lost, his mother would be coming soon. If he was all alone, she couldn’t have a wolf in her house. Even understanding what he needed, it was just insane. And probably illegal.

He positioned himself on the edge of the counter, shifting his weight from paw to paw, negotiating the drop to the ground. His full concentration was on the jump. When he made it to the linoleum floor, he looked up at her, all pleased with himself, and she melted. So cute.

“Well, maybe you can stay for a little while. Until I figure out what to do with you.” Those words had barely tumbled past her lips when the window over the breakfast nook shattered, and a large ball of black fur leaped into her kitchen. 

It must be the mother. But no. As her confusion cleared, she could see it was a large, angry black panther.

Fiona edged back, afraid he’d pounce if she made any sudden moves. What she wouldn’t give right now to have a few handy incantations at the ready. For spells, she needed all the proper tools: sage stick, herbs, candles, salt, etc. She could incant a little if she was very focused, but now, with her heart pounding so fast, wasn’t one of those times. Her own name was a blank—forget coming up with a snappy protection chant.

She grabbed at stray pots and pans and emptied a whole drawer of utensils as she threw everything she had at him. But he batted the objects away, prowling closer, his growl low and menacing. Within seconds, he had her backed into a corner, claws out, swiping at her. 

She screamed and grabbed her arm, which was starting to bleed. Her side burned as well. All at once, her brain snapped into sharp focus. She was going to die in a matter of seconds if she didn’t figure something out right now.

He’d stopped clawing at her for a minute and was growling, something about her taking the pup, wanting to hurt him, people after him. Oh, wait. Wait! She could feel the magic crackling around the panther. Therian! That meant there was a person in there. Somewhere.

She called on every reserve of courage she had to form words. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. He was lost and hungry. I brought him in to feed him. That’s all. I’m not whoever you think I am.”

The panther stared at her hard and growled again.

“Yes, I understand you.”

How is that possible? He growled.

“Rare gift. I meant the pup no harm. I swear.” She held her hands out defensively, hoping he believed her. An insane panther therian in her house wasn’t how she wanted to go out. Blood dripped in a steady flow down her arm; her shirt was torn near her ribcage where more blood was pooling. Oh God. That swipe alone could have killed her.

Breathe, Fiona. He’s calm now. Everything will be fine. Thank God he was a therian and could understand her as well as she understood him.

She still couldn’t figure out what a panther’s concern with a wolf pup was. But really, all she wanted was to get the both of them out of her house and call a window repairman. She was trying to forget the bleeding part. She vowed she’d listen to the birds next time.

So you can understand him? The panther’s gaze shifted to the pup who gingerly stepped around the broken glass, sniffing things.

“Well, he doesn’t have language like you have yet, but I know what he needs. My gift runs a little deeper than just speech.” Not to toot her horn or anything.

He shifted—–right in the middle of her kitchen. Her eyes didn’t know where to go. Tanned, muscular legs. And… oh dear, skip that, skip that! But her brain had already processed parts of a man she’d never seen outside of television or the Internet, due to her phobia. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to hook up with men when you never left your house.

Farther up, there were very nice abs and pecs—–and those arms. Oh boy. She swiped the back of the hand that wasn’t bleeding across her face, afraid she might be drooling. She wanted to lick him, but under the circumstances that seemed a little weird. Her arm and side burned like fiery hell, but damn, he was pretty. So sleek and lithe, just like what he shifted into.

When her gaze made it up to his face, a boyish smirk graced his lips. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes. His dark hair was longish, but somehow still masculine. Oh yes, there wasn’t an unmanly bone in his body.

“So,” he drawled, moving closer by mere centimeters, “should we just get it on now?”

Her mouth dropped open. He couldn’t have just said that.

A strange look crossed his face. “Sorry. Wild animal here. A little amped up. That was inappropriate.” He extended a hand, attempting to move past the new awkwardness. “Let me look at you.”

The pain in her arm and side flared fully to life as she processed everything that had just happened in her kitchen. When she didn’t respond to his request, he pulled her toward him and lifted her shirt to inspect her side.

He frowned. “Not as bad as it could have been. Nothing major harmed.”

She was about to get angry and indignant about his flippant attitude toward what he’d just done, but then his eyes met hers, warm and honest.

“I’m very sorry about your injuries. I was afraid for the pup and sensed the magic on you. I thought you were one of the ones who tried to take him. I’m all he’s got.” The pup, as if sensing he was being talked about, clomped through the kitchen debris to sit between them, his little wolf gaze going back and forth.

Fiona looked back at the man standing in front of her, so sincere and intense… and attractive, and then the waterworks started.

“Oh, no, don’t cry,” he said, almost in a panic over the concept of female tears.

It wasn’t pain that had brought forth the tears; it was the fact that this was what it took to get near a hot guy for her: a near-death experience, and him breaking into her kitchen: the idea that he was going to take the pup and go on his merry way, and she’d have the memory of him emblazoned on her brain, but that would be all. Her close brush with maleness. Inches from her, but no dice.

It wasn’t that she wanted to take him up on his carnal offer. He was a stranger. And, as he said, a wild animal. And she wished he’d cover himself with something, because judging from outward signs, he was all raring and ready to go. Like most therians, he was unaffected by his own nudity or arousal. Something she wished humans shared in common with them, so she wouldn’t feel so freaked out by his nearness… or so much longing for something she wasn’t going to ever have since she couldn’t make it past her own mailbox.

His smooth, deep voice interrupted her mental hysteria. “Do you have bandages?”

“Bathroom, down the hall,” she said absently, feeling stupid for going all blubbery on him. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind and know why she’d been crying. That would have been too mortifying for words. Better for him to think she was just a big wimp who couldn’t take surface abrasions than to know the truth.



About the Author:
Zoe Winters writes quirky and sometimes dark paranormal romance (and dark fantasy). Her favorite colors are rainbow and clear. For updates on new releases and opportunities for contests/giveaways sign up for the newsletter by sending a blank email to: freekept@gmail.com (As a thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of the debut novella in the Preternaturals series: Kept.)  

Connect with Zoe:


Enter to win ebook copies of Book 1 and Book 2 in the series! Contest is open INTERNATIONALLY!

 

June 28, 2012

Freedom to Read Giveaway Hop!



Welcome to the Freedom to Read Giveaway Hop! This hop will run fro June 29th to July 5th and is being hosted by Mundie Moms & I Am A Reader, Not A Writer. There are a TON of other blogs participating, so make sure to check out the linky at the bottom of my post and enter more great giveaways!


Now, for my prize in the giveaway hop, I'm giving away three (3) *SIGNED* paperback copies of Bridge of Scarlet Leaves by Kristina McMorris to three (3) separate winners. I've included the summary below and you can click on the image to go to the Goodreads page.

Blurb:

From the award-winning author of Letters from Home comes a poignant novel of love and courage, set against one of the most controversial episodes in American history: the aftermath of the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Los Angeles, 1941. Violinist Maddie Kern's life seemed destined to unfold with the predictable elegance of a Bach concerto. Then she fell in love with Lane Moritomo. Her brother's best friend, Lane is the handsome, ambitious son of Japanese immigrants. Maddie was prepared for disapproval from their families, but when Pearl Harbor is bombed the day after she and Lane elope, the full force of their decision becomes apparent. In the eyes of a fearful nation, Lane is no longer just an outsider, but an enemy.

When her husband is interned at a war relocation camp, Maddie follows, sacrificing her Juilliard ambitions. Behind barbed wire, tension simmers and the line between patriot and traitor blurs. As Maddie strives for the hard-won acceptance of her new family, Lane risks everything to prove his allegiance to America, at tremendous cost.

Rules:
1. Since I am shipping the prizes myself, US/CAN entries only please!
2. Must have a valid shipping address.
3. Winners will have 48 hours to respond to my email before I will have to select a different winner.

Be on the look out for my review of Bridge of Scarlet Leaves - coming soon! Now just fill out the Rafflecopter to enter and Good Luck!
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Between Book Tour: Review & Giveaway!


Between
Author: Daniel Frost
Genre: MG/YA Fantasy/Adventure
Release Date: June 21, 2010

Buy A Copy:              Amazon                     Barnes & Noble



 
Blurb:

Young Chance N. Counter thought her life was nothing more than a series of meaningless, random events. But when she finds some crinkly yellow pages from an old book, with the same drawing of a shadowy door in each one, this all suddenly changes. Pages in hand, and armed with only a flashlight, Chance finds one of the shadowy portals and steps into the place between night and day... it is the place where nightmares and fairytales and creatures that go bump in the night were created. It is the place of lore and legend and dreams, and the place where the Shadow King reigns supreme. But to leave, Chance, along with a new ally (who happens to be a talking fox) must summon all of her courage and use all of her wit to travel through this bizarre world and find her way home.




Review:

Between is a fun and fast paced MG/YA fantasy adventure that follows a young girl named Chance as she navigates the strange land between night and day and battles the Shadow King for her freedom. The novel is very well written and flows easily, which makes this a quick and entertaining read. The narrative is full of wonderful descriptions of the characters, setting, and the situations encountered. Frost does a great job with the storyline and keeping the reader invested in the story - just waiting to find out how Chance will make it through the next obstacle on her journey. The characters are all very well rounded and likeable, especially our young heroine Chance, who immediately makes her way into the heart of the reader and we find ourselves rooting for her to triumph over evil and make it back home. Although this is a MG/YA novel, it definitely appeals to readers of all ages and to lovers of all genres. It is one of those few books that transcends labels and age groups to provide a wonderful tale of finding yourself and of courage.








About the Author:


Douglas M. Paul is an Aerospace Engineer, the author of the One Wizard Place series of fantasy/SF novels, and through his wife's collaboration a new paranormal/fantasy titled Between (under pen name Daniel Frost). Doug Paul grew up in the Florida Keys, pursued engineering in college, and later obtained a graduate degree in Aerospace Engineering. Throughout college, Doug maintained a passion for science fiction and fantasy. One day he finally decided to take a chance and pen a novel. Doug’s One Wizard Place was picked up by a publishing house and on average users on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble’s websites gave it perfect score of 5/5. One Wizard Place, Doug’s first novel, in a series of three, features a rich, robust plot that combines high technology, science fiction, and fantasy into an intriguing story. One Wizard Place was nominated for both an EPPIE and an EVVY award. In addition, One Wizard Place was featured on the back cover of Writer's Yearbook 2007, 'the Writer', and a full page within Writer's Digest, and he was considered to be the best up and coming author of 2006. Doug’s second novel, Sentinel, and his third, Sidhe, combine action and adventure with a light-hearted tone. All the stories take place in the world of One Wizard Place, though each book can stand-alone as the series creates a succession of adventures within this world with a focus on different characters (recurring characters and interconnected theme). His fourth novel, Between, released in 2011 takes a slightly different turn into the paranormal. In this title a young girl named Chance N. Counter steps through a shadowy portal and into the place between night and day... it is the place where nightmares and fairytales and creatures that go bump in the night were created. It's the place of lore and legend and dreams, and the place where the Shadow King reigns supreme.

 

Enter to win an ebook copy of Between! Contest is open INTERNATIONALLY!

 
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June 27, 2012

Gone at Zero Hundred Tour: Review, Guest Post and Giveaway!


Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00
Author: CR Hiatt
Genre: YA/Action Adventure
Release Date: March 30, 2012


Blurb:

"Their lives are in the hands of two 18 year-olds..."

Sydney Marie McSwain - a tomboy who yearned for a father.

Cody Beck - a wannabe filmmaker, wisenheimer and flirt.

Jaden White - the star who led the high school hockey team to two championships, and was now on the A-list for NHL scouts.

Sydney Marie McSwain loves her mom, Anna - a private investigator in the coastal city where they live - but they had a major issue between them. Anna refused to give Sydney the identity of her father. On the day of her high school graduation, they were battling it out, once again. An hour later, Sydney, Cody and Jaden were at the local café, and watched as Anna was gunned down.

Faced with immediate responsibility, Sydney and Cody agreed to take over the agency, only they changed the name to McSwain & Beck. At the same time, Sydney convinced Sutter Beach Detective, Ace Carter, to help her track down her father.

Then out of the blue, a model walked in and hired them to follow her step-brother. While Cody was busy editing a trailer to solicit new clients, Sydney settled into her lemon-yellow pickup to do surveillance, and wound up staking out a secret club called The Devil’s Door whose suspicious members wore the tattoo of a devil.

That same night, Sydney received a call from one of her mom’s former clients, but the client was gunned down at the location where they agreed to meet. The mysterious discovery of a DVD revealed the possibility that teenagers were being abducted, only nobody reported them missing.

On the hunt for the victims, McSwain & Beck were chased by men in ski masks, nearly gunned down by a members of a drug cartel called the outlaws, Sydney’s precious pickup was broken into; then the step-brother they were hired to follow, was found dead and Sydney was the number one suspect.

If things weren’t bad enough already, they had to figure out how to crash a red-carpet Mardi Gras bash being held on a private cruise ship, before it sailed off into the sunset, where they just might meet the devil, himself.

Now, the clock was ticking…

And time was running out…

How was she ever going to find her father, now?  


Watch the Book Trailer: 






For more info on the book, check out these sites:           Goodreads              Facebook


Review:

Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00 is a fast paced action-adventure story that follows Sydney McSwain and Cody Beck - collectively called McSwain and Beck throughout most of the novel - as they escape the hands of sinister madmen and fight their way to finding Sydney's father, among many other trials. The story is action packed and full of intrigue, but it all seemed really far-fetched to me - even though it's a fiction book. The characters seemed like typical teenagers who were trying to face the world and handle problems on their own, but they again seemed far-fetched and pretty cliched. 

The novel takes the reader to various settings and into several sketchy situations, which leaves you wondering what will happen next and how will McSwain and Beck possibly make it out of there? It's a fun and easy read, if a bit over-the-top in some departments. I recommend this book to fans of action/adventure fiction as well as young adult novels with a fast-paced narrative.






What is a normal writing day like in the life of writer, CR HIATT? 

Ah, you just had to ask that one didn’t you? LOL

I am afraid I have become a creature of habit when it comes to the days I plan to write. I started the pattern once I realized what worked for me, and now, I do not deviate from the schedule. 

My day starts off with breakfast: two poached eggs, raisin toast, strawberries and a bottle of Dasani water. That is the one constant that remains the same. I have found that if I eat a healthy breakfast, (especially protein) I am able to concentrate better throughout the day. Food really does impact the way we think and feel.

Once nutrition is out of the way, I fit in some exercise. Living by the water, I make walk/jog the path along the two-mile stretch, or try some Yoga. Then, the fun begins - I make my presence known on social media outlets. Since we all come from different time zones, I like to thank all my friends and followers who might have RT’d or mentioned me while I was catching up on my beauty sleep. I use Hootsuite, so I can easily sign on and catch up on Twitter and Facebook status updates. I put some time in on Twitter, RT’ing fellow authors, musicians, actors or independent films, and I support the military. It feels good to promote others. I chat for a few minutes, and catch up on those that I’ve become close with. Then, it’s time to get busy. 

If the weather outside is crappy (still chilly in the spring), I make sure the TV is on - tuned into news, an action flick, NCIS or music. I don’t know why, but I need noise. If I already have a draft I’m working on, I will open it, read the last few paragraphs of what I worked on before to refresh my memory; then start typing. 

If I’m creating a new product, I type a logline: one or two sentences with beginning, middle and end. Ideas come to me all the time. When I’m jogging, cycling, or standing in line at the grocery store, so chances are I’ve already been reworking the ideas in my head, over and over, again. 

From the logline, I plan out my locations (whether real or imagined), characters and analyze the plot details which make up a draft synopsis. From that brief outline, I can then write a 100 - 120-page screenplay which I will then use as an outline for a new novel.
When I am engaged in that process I don’t stop, except to grab a quick snack and bottle of water, which will be nibbled on while I’m writing. That’s because I get so caught up in creating the scenes, and planning out the action, fight scenes, car chases, explosions, and all the fun that my stars (characters) inevitably run into. In fact, I have been known to get snappy with the person who interrupts me when I’m in the zone. So tread carefully. :)



About the Author:
CR HIATT is a writer of screenplays and an author of YA action-mystery novels. The daughter of a military veteran, CR grew up in a small town where she became an All-American athlete. CR knew early on that she wasn't cut out for the nine to five type of job - her tendency to day dream about adventures often got in the way. But, being the daughter of a Navy Veteran she also knew one had to do what was necessary to be secure, so she disciplined herself to push those dreams aside and settled on working in the entertainment legal field. When those dreams invaded her world once again, CR finally gave in and set out to write her own adventures. What the heck, right. If you can't live 'em, you might as well write about them. The McSwain & Beck series are works of fiction, only based on real life events. Gone at Zero Hundred 00:00 is the first in the series, and available now. Fireworks on the 4th will be released in late June, just before the 4th of July holiday season.

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June 26, 2012

Eversworn Book Blitz & Excerpt!






Eversworn
Author: Hailey Edwards
Series Title: Daughters of Askara
Genre: Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Release Day: June 26, 2012
Publisher: Samhain Publishing

Buy Links:                        Amazon                             B&N


Blurb:

Steal the salt. Bind the grimoire. Escape the male.

Daughters of Askara, Book 3

When an exchange of stolen goods in the Feriana marketplace turns sour, Isabeau stumbles from the encounter bruised and laden with new orders to complete an even larger heist. With her child’s life at stake, there’s no room for error—or allies.
Armed with a lethal book of spells, she strikes a dangerous bargain with Roland Bernhard. Steal a shipment of salt from the Feriana colony, and she’ll have her freedom—and her daughter. It’s all she’s ever wanted. At least it was…until she runs into Dillon Preston.
Dillon is out of commission after a mine explosion, and itching for a distraction. He gets it when the female who saved his leg arrives at the colony with nothing but flimsy excuses and even flimsier attire. She’s after something, but is it him—or the salt?
Trapped in a desperate bid to gain true freedom, Isabeau is willing to sacrifice her life for her daughter’s, but Dillon has other plans. He wants a package deal, and he’s not willing to lose either female, even if it means the future king of Sere’s head will roll.
Warning: This title contains a heroine desperate to save her daughter and a hero determined to make them a family. It also includes wings, horns and other assorted appendages. 


Chapter One
Realm of Askara, City of Feriana
 
Runes burned hot across my wrists where slave bands were inked into my skin. Inhaling the rich mélange that was Feriana on market day, I wished I was anywhere other than here, anyone other than me. Shifting my bag, I patted the bulge weighting its bottom. Good. It was still there.
As it had been the last five times I’d checked.
Guilt flavored each swallow to wet my throat. Remain calm. Impossible when my tattoos stung persistent warning. You have what he wants. All will be well.
I choked on a dry laugh. All was never well. Those who penned fairytales should be stabbed through the heart with their quill.
Pretending interest in the fresh produce, I surveyed the crowd. He was here, but where?
“Isabeau?” A firm hand tugged at my sleeve. “I asked what you thought of these dates.”
I spared them half a glance, then continued skimming the crowd. “You’ve chosen well.”
Lindsay’s smile lit the corner of my eye, and regret tugged at my conscience. She deserved more attention than I could afford to give her. I’d make it up to her later, assuming I had the chance. Procuring supplies wasn’t a priority for me, though I knew it should be. Right now, other worries occupied my mind. Such things as how willing I was to use defensive glamour if I must.
As the telltale burn of building magic scalded my palms, I supposed I’d made my choice.
Another tug at my arm swiveled my head toward Lindsay.
“I’d like to search the scarves, if I may. I had hoped to purchase a mating gift for Emma.”
Emma. What would she think if she knew my reason for being here?
Tugging at my collar, I swallowed past the sensation of her strong fingers wrapped about my throat. As acting consul of Askara, she’d wring my neck for this betrayal, and I would deserve it.
Living at the consulate with her, putting my healing craft to good use, helping ex-slaves begin new lives in either the city of Feriana or its colony…I loved that life. And it was all a lie.
Glamour crackled over my skin, but the only things I concealed were the black spell-crafting runes inked from my forearms to my fingertips. Still, the static shock of power coating my skin led others to believe my concealment was more than cosmetic, a misconception I let flourish.
Given my consulate position, most assumed I was a female Evanti hiding in plain sight.
They were wrong.
“Go.” I indicated my favorite stall. “Enjoy yourself.”
“I will.” Swiping flaxen hair from her eyes, Lindsay cast me a broad grin. Despite being a halfling, she resembled the Askaran side of her parentage more than the human. “I promise I won’t touch anything I don’t intend to buy, and I won’t break anything.” She rushed to add, “If something happened, by accident, I’d pay the damages from my wages.”
“You’re fine.” I shooed her. “I trust you.”
Trust was a broad word. Lindsay wouldn’t break any of the wares on purpose, but she was a halfling mastering self-control late in life. Enslaved in an outland mining camp since birth, she’d had no need for learning social graces, only the art of survival. Relying on the brute strength that characterized her breed saved her from playing the role of camp whore. Now she wanted more, better, and as someone familiar with the other half of the equation, I wanted that for her as well.
Hissing as my skin throbbed with renewed heat, I gasped as the impression of male lips and teeth left their damp sting on my bare neck. Roland. Sultry whispers caressed my ears, beckoned come unto your master, and I was helpless
not to obey his summons. Pressure from his phantom fingers compelled me toward a figure coalescing in the shade of a billowing tent. Swirling tendrils of power cloaked him from passersby and elicited a shiver of recognition from me. Inclining his head, he acknowledged me, and his smile made my pulse race with the stirrings of genuine fear.
Fighting the urge to check my bag, I dove into the crush of bodies, and they engulfed me.
When I reached the spot where Roland had stood, he was gone.
“You kept me waiting.” Hot breath hit my nape before he shoved me against a sandstone wall. My shoulder bounced as Roland pressed into me. His hand snaked around my waist, teased the underside of my breasts, squeezing before slipping under the flap of my bag. “Is this all?”
“It’s what we agreed upon.” I winced. “Where is my proof?”
“Are you so eager to be rid of me?” He pressed a string of kisses down my throat. “Well?”
Yes. My voice was a husky rasp. “Is bedding you a requirement for obtaining my proof?”
His chuckle caused my gut to clench. Nothing good came of his laughter.
“I prefer my partners willing.” A lie wrapped in a pretty half-truth. He was accomplished in magic, as all those trained by Sereian priests were. Glamour, the root of his power, twisted minds to suit his whims. I knew, because mine bore the spiral imprint of his amusement. “Here is the proof I promised you.” He slid an envelope in my bag and waited. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of witnessing my reaction. “I trust you.”
Trust was a broad word indeed.
“This is exquisite,” Roland murmured. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him hold his prize aloft. A fist-sized chunk of embolite sat heavy across his palm. “You did well, but this is no longer enough.”
Stomach roiling, I pushed from the wall and said again, “It’s what we agreed upon.”
“We agreed once I had control of the mine, your services would no longer be required.” His grip on the sample whitened his knuckles. “The entire point of
freeing you to work for Emmaline was to monitor the Feriana colony’s mining operation and the Evanti controlling its distribution.” He struck before I saw him swing. Jagged rock hit my cheek and sliced it open. “Such an arrangement no longer benefits me since Emmaline has mated the Evanti in charge and is more protective of Harper than ever. Since he won’t negotiate for exclusive rights to the mine, alternate means of procurement are required.” His gaze met mine. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I swallowed past the pain. “What do you have in mind?”
“We are eager today, aren’t we?” He pocketed the embolite. “Somewhere you’d rather be?”
Anywhere other than here. “No.”
“Good,” he said, smiling, “because you’re going on a trip.”
“I am?” I glided a wary step back.
“How is that Evanti you tended?” He appeared thoughtful. “I believe he’s called…Dillon.”
My pulse spiked at the mention of his name. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
He measured me for a moment longer, and I wondered why he had mentioned Dillon at all. The wounded Evanti demon had spent weeks under my care at the consulate before returning to the freemen colony on the outskirts of Feriana.
Withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, Roland dabbed my split cheek. “During those weeks, nothing happened between you?”
I sensed a trap but was unable to locate its mechanism. I stilled myself against the urge to strike his hand. My blood allowed his glamour to work on me no matter what our proximity. A single drop, a murmured spell, and he could find me, taunt me, anywhere. His illusionary kiss was benign compared to the power blood sparked in our connection. But why ask if something happened between Dillon and me…?
Mortification tightened my chest. “You’re a bastard.”
Of course he would spy on me, and my behavior around Dillon made heat creep up my neck.
“I assure you, I’m not. Bastards can’t become kings. You’re Sereian.” He stalked me until I backed into the wall. “You’d do well to remember Askara’s antislavery laws don’t apply to you.”
As if he ever let me forget.
When his gaze fixated on my mouth, I reminded him, “You cast me aside years ago.”
“Still bitter are we? I’m in the market for a wife.” He cupped my cheek. “And you,” he said, so near his lips brushed mine, “are a whore.” His thumb swiped over the fresh wound he’d given me, and my wince resulted in a low growl of approval from him. “Albeit, you’re a talented one.”
“You have what you came for.” I gritted my teeth as he pressed on the cut. “Leave me.”
“Not quite and not yet.” He painted my lips with blood, its copper tang curling my tongue. “As I said, the terms of our agreement must be altered. As a token of appreciation for pleasure you once gave me, for the loyalties I still enjoy, I’m offering you a chance at earning freedom.”
I gave the ringing in my ears a chance to subside. “What are your terms?”
“I want a full shipment of salt delivered to my estate.” He patted the pocket where his core sample resided. “I don’t mean this. I have no use for embolite in the rough. I want the processed salt.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The silver portion of the shipment is unimportant. Keep it if you wish. Use it to finance your new life.” His sigh rang with displeasure. “It will mean showing restraint, but it will suffice. I must have the salt. Do you understand? It’s of critical importance.”
I blinked. “Are you mad? I’d have to steal direct from the colony, and there’s an enormous difference between me pocketing core samples after they’ve been tested and hijacking an entire caravan.” I leaned into the wall for support. “The former goes unnoticed, the latter is…suicide.”
One life exchanged for the good of many. It was Harper’s credo, and I was not of the many.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he murmured. “I heard Emma and Harper are visiting their siblings, on Earth.” I gave him no confirmation. He had no way of knowing where they had gone, and I wasn’t about to tell him.
“They’re no doubt spreading their happy news.” His motive became clearer. “That leaves your patient in charge of the colony in Harper’s absence. I’m sure two such friends can find understanding. After all, he owes you for saving his leg, doesn’t he?”
What he implied made my cheeks burn. Of course he would spend me so cheaply.
Still, despair and hope warred within me. “And if I manage this feat…”
He tapped my wrists, and fresh pain flared. “Then you will be freed.”
I lifted my chin. “My freedom is not the only price I require.”
“So I assumed.” His pause left me breathless. “Deliver the salt, and the girl is also yours.”
A pent-up breath whistled between my lips. “Give me your word, and it’s done.”
Words held power. Breaking his promise would weaken that power. Roland wouldn’t risk it.
Not around me.
“My word is given.” He turned and black mist shrouded him. Then he was gone.
As the sting in my slave bands lessened to a dull throb, I sagged against the wall. The girl is yours. With trembling fingers, I reached into my bag and withdrew the envelope. Tucked into the crease was a lock of auburn hair with a slight curl at the end. Fishing into a different pocket, I withdrew a similar strand and compared the lengths. One hung slightly longer than the other. I held it to my nose and inhaled the violet-scented strands until hot, useless tears pricked my eyes.
I knew this was a disaster in the making, but he’d baited his trap too well for me to resist.
Footsteps warned me in time to hide my bribe. Past the wall, I spotted Lindsay barreling toward me, scanning the area where Roland had stood seconds earlier. She ducked past the tent.
“Are you all right?” She grabbed my chin and tipped my head back. “What happened?” Her voice took on a dangerous edge. “Your poor face.” She noticed my bag. “Who did this? A thief?”
“Yes.” In a manner of speaking, he was. I choked on the insane urge to laugh, to scream that freedom was within my reach, but I tamped it down. “The thief took something dear from me.” I wiped away my tears. “Don’t worry. I will get it back.” Taking her arm, I led her from the alley into the sun. I basked in its heat. Let it chase the chill of Roland’s presence. “Are you finished?”
“I—” She frowned at my eager tone. “Yes. I suppose I am.”
“Good.” I compensated for the slip with a wobbling smile. “Let’s go home.”
I had plans to make.
Different worlds, different colonies, but still the same damn meetings.
Responsibility weighted the air on this side of the desk. Each inhale settled heavily in Dillon’s lungs. He’d much rather occupy his usual spot by the tent flap, his gaze trained on the dunes beyond than wear the mantle of interim colony leader. Harper hadn’t done Dillon any favors by yoking him to the colony bandwagon, asking him to lead with fanfare in his absence.
Rolling his shoulders, he cast aside the niggling suspicion Harper had made the appointment out of pity. Another time he might have gloated when Harper brought in two males a quarter of his age as his replacements. Instead, it made him feel every day of his ninety-eight years. No dancing around it. He was getting old, even by their race’s standards. He should be finding a female, settling down, doing his duty to pump fresh blood, pure blood, into their dwindling race.
His leg twinged when he shifted in his seat, a reminder of how he ended up paper-pushing in the first place. Pinning his shoulders to the back of his chair kept him from leaning down and rubbing the dull ache in his calf, or where his calf used to be. His jaw tightened. No need to go there. Not now. Not while two fresh faces were staring him down, looking for signs of weakness.
While drumming his fingers on his knee, he inspected the two newest transplants from Earth. Two young males eager to taste what Askara had to
offer, curious to see if their memories of enslavement held up against the new reality of this being a kingdom of freemen. Their optimism made him cringe. Then again, he’d seen the files the freeborn legion had kept on them.
They had both belonged to the sthudal slave caste, and slaves with that designation recalled their time spent in labor camps with fewer nightmares than those who wore the title of sthudai.
Dillon knew which life he would have chosen.
Better to break his back in a mine, die of hunger or thirst, than live on the end of a chain like a f**king animal, fed and watered only when his performance merited such a reward. Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed hard and ground his heel into the packed sand floor. Ruined muscle screamed in protest, but the burst of agony was his reward, his reprieve from the memories always a stray thought away from choking him. Yeah, he would have loved to have been sthudal.
Figuring he’d kept the pair waiting long enough, Dillon asked, “You two have any questions?” He lifted a cup and swallowed its tepid contents down to the grit in the bottom. His teeth crunched when he set his jaw. Damn, he’d be glad when the new aqueduct was completed.
“Yeah.” Church eyed the tent flap warily. “Is there anything out here besides sand?”
“Sure there is.” Dillon suppressed a grin when Church’s shoulders relaxed. “Didn’t you see all the tents? That’s why the colonists call this place tent city. The only buildings with walls are the clinic and the stable. You’ll get acquainted with those soon enough.” Harper would strangle him for adding, “You two arrived just in time for the winter sandstorm season. When they hit, all we can do is pack ourselves like sardines into those buildings and pray the spell crafting holds.”
Church cast one more glance past the flap to the desert beyond. “Great.” He twisted in his seat and eyed the male beside him. “Russ, you got any last requests before we’re blown away?”
Russ’s smile was faint. “What are our duties while Harper’s away?”
Scratching his cheek, Dillon admitted he wasn’t sure what to do with the pair. Until his leg mended, he was on light duty, in theory. These two had prior experience, as most legionaries did, so they knew the basics of guard duty. The
rest, training them as bodyguards, hinged on Harper and Emma’s return since Dillon was a big believer in learning in the field. Sink or swim.
Until that happened… “You’ve got two choices. Our courier is swamped. One of you can train with Mason. He deserves the break.” He paused in consideration. “The other can train with Uriah, our silversmith. He oversees the extraction of silver and salt from the embolite we mine.”
At their blank expressions, Dillon exhaled on a curse. Their files expounded the fieldwork each had done for the freeborn legion, and each had service records spotless enough he felt Harper would be safe with them, but his decision to skim their locational information had just jumped up and bit him on the ass. “Where were you two working when the legion found you?”
“The outlands,” they replied in unison.
Okay, so maybe he had read their information right. “Were you in the mines?”
“No.” Church frowned. “I was a brickmaker by trade. I still am, or was, on Earth.”
Ah. That explained why Harper had picked him. As the colony expanded, so did the need for structures beyond tents they used for, well, everything. Dillon sized up Russ. “How about you?”
Russ held up ink-smudged fingers. “I was a scribe employed by an exiled noble.”
A scribe was, well, less useful. Dillon asked, “Do either of you know what progesaline is?”
“Females need it during pregnancy.” Church shrugged, signaling the end of his contribution.
Russ appeared to consider his answer. “Progesaline is a supplement females of some demon breeds require during pregnancy. Without it, they become anemic. They might die before or during childbirth, as could the children, unless they consume enough to maintain healthy levels.”
Dillon blinked. Maybe having a scribe around wasn’t such a bad idea.
“It’s found in rare salt veins,” Russ continued. “While I’ve never heard of it being found in veins of embolite, it’s certainly possible. I’d think the problem
would be extraction.” He paused at Church’s scowl. “Embolite is a mineral containing both salt and silver in their natural forms.”
“Someone did his research.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t have guessed embolite over chlorargyrite. Dillon gave Russ a slow second glance. There was something familiar about him.
Russ frowned. “I’d hardly accept the position otherwise.”
“So what gives?” Church twisted in his seat. “How did Harper get such a sweet deal?”
“I’ll hazard a guess the queen’s advisors signed over this tract of land for two reasons.” Russ waited until Dillon nodded. “First, it shares a city with the vernal castle, which means it’s near enough for First Court to monitor and close enough for the queen’s troops to attack if necessary.”
“Go on.” Dillon caught himself leaning forward.
“Second, the mine had potential, enough First Court’s gift appealed to Harper and their offer wasn’t insulting. Though I bet they assumed even if he was foolhardy enough to work the mine, he wouldn’t figure out how to process the embolite and separate the silver and the salt from the core mineral. Yet he did, and he likely doubled his profits.” Russ smiled slowly. “Am I right?”
“Damn.” Church whistled. “That explains the raiders, plus the bounty on Harper’s head.”
“Right on both counts,” Dillon said, forcing his attention from Russ.
He was right, though Dillon and Harper were just drawing the same conclusions. They had guessed the only reason the queen’s advisors had given consent for Harper to take over the mine was they were certain there was nothing here worth mining. Now that Harper had proven them wrong? Yeah, they were pissed and wanted a share. Damn if Dillon didn’t find that a little bit funny.
“This colony pays its bills with the mine, and, as Russ said, we mine embolite.” No two ways about it, Harper must have told Russ. “It’s damn hard work and not worth much in the rough, if anything at all. Then Uriah works his magic and we get pure silver and pure salt. Six times more silver than salt, but silver has its uses and our salt, well, it’s almost pure progesaline.”
Russ murmured something Dillon didn’t catch because Church stood with a grunt.
“So do we pick now or what?” His back popped as he stretched. “Mason or Uriah, right?”
Good to know Dillon wasn’t the only one bored by meetings. “Yeah, have at it.”
Church didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll take Uriah.”
Dillon almost felt sorry for him. While they were the obvious match, Uriah burned through apprentices faster than he could match faces to names. Not that he tried too hard. Mostly he called them all the same thing, dier hest eirdth or eirdth for short, which was the Demonish equivalent of dirt. Those under his tutelage chose to believe he meant they were clay and he was molding them into…whatever struck their fancy. Dillon suspected Uriah meant the more literal translation of ground beneath my feet. His attitude explained why even his ex-masters had given him a wide berth. The male was a god at his forge, and he knew it. The fact a story was floating around about him flinging molten silver in the face of an Askaran noble had cemented his reputation as a bastard. Something Dillon could respect. So long as Uriah did his job, Dillon didn’t care.
“That leaves me with Mason.” Russ slanted a look toward Church that punctured his mood. “If I’m playing courier, then I guess I’ll find out if there’s any life beyond those dunes after all.”
“Now that we have that settled,” Dillon said, giving Church time to school his glower, “you’ll each pull border patrol and sentry duty. That won’t change even after Harper gets back.”
Russ frowned. “We won’t alternate day and night shifts?”
Church stilled. “Harper needs someone watching his back at night too.”
“He has someone.” Dillon stood, Church’s restlessness feeding his own. “Her name’s Emma.” Before they earned enough rope to hang themselves, he silenced their protests. “One of you will remain on perimeter duty after dayshift ends. That means frequent passes by their tent. The trick is being close enough you can keep an eye on Harper—and Emma—while giving them the illusion of privacy.” He admitted grudgingly, “No one’s more invested in Harper’s wellbeing, and
few are more capable of ensuring his safety. Plus few realize what she is before it’s too late.”
Once they moved past the honeymoon period in their relationship, Harper might not need a guard beyond his mate. Emma was a halfling, stronger than most full demon males, and Harper had trained her to protect her sister, Askara’s Princess Ascendant Madelyn DeGray, since they were children. If it meant protecting Harper and Maddie, there was nothing Emma wouldn’t do.
Dillon ignored the tightness in his chest and sharpened his scowl. He wasn’t jealous.
“Fair enough.” Russ pushed from his seat. “Where do you want us?”
“Head back to your tents for now. I’m handling border patrol tonight.” No reason not to while Harper wasn’t here to bench him. “I expect to see both of you here at six.”
Russ’s gaze dipped toward Dillon’s leg, his brow furrowing, but he kept his mouth shut. Good. He just might make it here after all.
“The faster you learn your way around, the better.” Dillon crossed the tent and brushed aside the flap. “I want you two broken in by the time Harper and Emma get back.”
His first step outside blinded him. Hot air rushed into his lungs, baking them, and his tongue dried in the time it took for his mouth to open long enough to say, “Welcome to Askara, boys.”


About the Author:
Hailey is a wife turned mother turned writer, who loves her husband, her daughter and alone time with her computer. Whenever southern living strikes her as too ordinary, she can be found squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after or with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen. Wings and/or cupcakes are usually involved…

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