Thursday's Featured Author (11/7/13)

My Kind of Christmas

(Virgin River #20)

by

 Robyn Carr

 

 PATRICK RIORDAN ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT NOTHING COULD MATCH THE ADRENALINE RUSH HE GETS FROM HIS JOB. BUT THIS CHRISTMAS, PATRICK’S PULSE IS REALLY RACING...

The Riordan brothers may have a reputation for being rough-and tumble, but Patrick has always been the gentle, sweet-natured one. These days, his easygoing manner is being tested by his high-octane career as a navy pilot. But for the Riordan brothers, when the going gets tough…the tough find the love of a good woman.
Except the woman who has caught Patrick’s attention is Jack Sheridan’s very attractive niece.
Angie LeCroix comes to Virgin River to spend Christmas relaxing, away from her well-intentioned but hovering mother. Yet instead of freedom, she gets Jack Sheridan. If her uncle had his way, she’d never go out again. And certainly not with rugged, handsome Patrick Riordan. But Angie has her own idea of the kind of Christmas she wants—and the kind of man!
Patrick and Angie thought they wanted to be left alone this Christmas—until they meet each other. Then they want to be left alone together. But the Sheridan and Riordan families have different plans for Patrick and Angie—and for Christmas, Virgin River–style!

Preview Excerpt

"I think a little vacation in Virgin River is exactly what Angie needs," Sam Sheridan announced as he looked around the table at his family, all gathered at his home for Thanksgiving dinner. Angie gave her grandfather a grateful smile, relieved to finally have someone on her side. "She's been through quite an ordeal," Sam continued, "and I think medical school can wait while she figures things out. A little rest and relaxation—a chance to visit with the rest of the family—it will do her worlds of good."

"Well, I think if anyone knows what's good for Angie, it's me," Donna replied sternly, glaring daggers at her father. "A visit with Jack, Mel and Brie sounds all well and good, but I'm her mother, and I've supported her from the day she was born. A vacation should be the furthest thing from her mind right now. The accident—" She hesitated, glancing over at Angie. "Well, let's be honest, Angie—the accident has really…affected you. There's nothing that needs 'figuring out.' You need to get back on track academically as soon as possible. That's where your focus should be. That's where it was before."

Before. It seemed for Angie as though things would forever be divided into life before the accident and life afterward. While there wasn't much that she remembered from the car accident itself, there were certainly a few moments that stuck out in her mind. She remembered how close she came to dying that cold, drizzly March evening, lying in an emergency room covered with blood, and that it was her long-dead grandmother who was attempting to help her cross to the other side. She hadn't told anyone in her family about that little detail. Why bother? Some of them already thought she was half-crazy.

On the day of the accident, Angie had been the passenger in a car with her friend. A car on the opposing interstate lane had lost control, crossed the median and hit two oncoming cars—including the one Angie had been traveling in. The crash could've been caused by a flat tire or from the driver's attempt to avoid another car, but there was no clear villain, no alcohol or drugs to blame. It was truly an accident.

The driver of the other car had been killed, everyone else injured, Angie the worst. She'd suffered a couple of serious fractures for which surgery had been required. She also lost her spleen, had a collapsed lung and a titanium rod had been placed in her left femur. But the big issue had been the head injury—there had been an impressive laceration on the back of her head and, while there was no open fracture, her brain began to swell and the neurosurgeon had needed to implant a shunt to drain the edema. After her surgery, Angie had been in a coma for three days and had to fight her way back to the world through a postanesthetic and pain-med haze. Friends, family and medical experts had wondered for weeks if this bright, driven young medical student would have any mental handicaps as a result. She did not.

However, as often happens, the experience changed Angie forever. And those changes were what had led to the current impasse between Angie and her mother, a university professor who wanted to see Angie back in med school as quickly as possible. Today, Angie was fully recovered from her accident and could have gone back to school in September, but she'd chosen not to.

"Well, maybe a brief break from school is within reason," her father, Bob, said to Donna cautiously, once the rest of the family was happily starting dessert and the three of them had offered to start the dishes in the kitchen. Angie rolled her eyes. She knew he'd remain on the fence to avoid an argument with her mother.

But Donna wasn't nearly so reserved with her opinion. "This is completely unacceptable, Angie," she said stiffly. "You've worked far too hard to reach this point in your studies, and we've contributed far too much for you to waste it all on a whim."

Angie was shocked and suddenly angry. Concern was one thing, but this? She was done having her parents, mostly her mother, decide things like this for her. "I might not want to continue medical school! I might want to make macrame flower pot holders for the rest of my life! Or grow herbs! Or hitchhike across Europe! I don't know what I want to do right now, but whatever it is, it's going to be up to me!"

"Don't be absurd," Donna announced in her typically dismissive way. "You're not yourself at all right now. It's obvious the accident has affected your personality more than you realize, Angie. Once you get back to school, you'll be yourself again."

Personality change? Angie didn't agree, except that she'd grown surprisingly stubborn. "Actually, I think I've finally found my personality. And you know what, Mom? I think it's remarkably like yours."

If the accident had any affect at all, it had been through a close-up view of how unpredictable and tenuous life could be. One minute you're buzzing along the freeway, singing along to the radio, the next you're looking down on yourself, watching as medical staff frantically work to save your life and you see your dead grandmother across a chasm of light.

Once she realized she had barely survived, every day dawned brighter, the air drawn into her lungs more precious, the beat of her heart lighter despite the colossal importance of what had happened. She was filled with a sense of gratitude and became contemplative, viewing the smallest detail of living with huge significance. Things she had previously taken for granted now took on a greater significance. There was no detail she was willing to miss: she stopped to have long conversations with grocery-store bag boys, corner flower peddlers, librarians, booksellers and school crossing guards. In short, life was different now for Angie, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

She'd also looked back at the life she'd lived so far and had some regrets—specifically about dedicating so much time to study that she had few friends. Many study partners, but only a few friends. She'd said no to far too many parties and dances for the sake of grades. For God's sake, she was already twenty-three and she'd had only two boyfriends! Both pretty inadequate, come to think of it. Was life all about books? Didn't well-rounded adults know how to play? While her few girlfriends were dating, traveling, exploring, getting engaged, what was Angie doing? Making Mama proud.

She was going to fix that if she could. "Mom, I love you, but I've made my decision. Medical school can wait. I'm going to Virgin River."

Angela LaCroix pulled up to Jack's Bar on the day after Thanksgiving and parked right next to her aunt Brie's car. She gave a double toot of her horn before she jumped out and dashed up the steps and into the bar. There they were, waiting for her—Jack, Mel and Brie. Angie's smile was so big she thought her face might crack.

"You made it," Jack said. He rushed around the bar and picked her up in his embrace. Then he put her on her feet and said, "I thought you might be bound, gagged and held prisoner in Sacramento."

"It didn't get physical," she said with a laugh. "However, Mom isn't speaking to any of you."

"That's a relief," Jack said. "Then she won't be calling five times a day."

"Come here, kitten," Brie said, edging Jack out of the way to hug Angie. Then Mel jumped off her stool and joined the hug. "It's so good to have you here," Brie said. "Your mom will come around."

"Fat chance," Jack said. "I don't know anyone who can hold a grudge longer than Donna."

"I hope I didn't cause a rift in the whole family," Angie said.

Jack walked back around behind the bar. "Sheri-dans," he grumbled. "We hang together pretty well in tough times, but we've been known to have a lot of differences of opinion. Bottom line is, you're welcome here anytime. You always have a place at my house."

"And mine," Brie said.

Angie chewed her lower lip for a moment. "Okay, here's the thing. I appreciate it, I do, and I plan to spend a lot of time with you, but I was wondering, hoping, that you wouldn't mind letting me use that little cabin in the woods." She took a breath. "I need some space. Honest to God."

Silence hung in the air. "Is that a fact?" Jack finally said.

Angie took a stool and her two aunts automatically framed her on their own stools. "That is a fact. Space…and I wouldn't mind a beer. And maybe some takeout. It was a long drive."

Jack served up a beer, very slowly. "There's no TV out there," he said.

"Good. But there's an internet connection, right?"

"It's slow, Ange," Mel pointed out. "Not as slow as dial-up was, but it's finicky. The internet connection in our guesthouse is much—"

"I think it's an outstanding idea," Brie said, smiling at Angie. "Try it out. If it gets a little too quiet, I have a guest room and Mel has the guesthouse."

"Thanks, Brie."

"Hey, when you're running away from home, you should at least have your choice of accommodations," Brie added.

"I'm not really running away…. Well, okay, I guess that is what I'm doing. Thanks, you guys. Seriously, thanks."

Mel laughed. "It's not exactly an original idea. Brie and I both landed here because we were running away from stuff. I'm going to go get Preacher and Paige. They've been so anxious to see you. And I'll call your folks to tell them you made it here safely."

"You had no trouble driving?" Jack asked.

"I like driving, but my dad insisted we swap cars. I have his SUV and he has my little Honda," she said. "But I wasn't nervous. Maybe because I don't remember the accident."

But Angie didn't want to dwell on what had happened. She was here to relax, to escape, to move forward with her life. Changing the subject, she asked, "And did everyone have a great Thanksgiving?"

"I might never eat again," Brie said. "How about you?"

"We were all at Grandpa's and it was good, except for a little melodrama about me leaving for a month. Between the aunts, uncles and cousins there seems to be quite a diversity of opinion on how I should live my life."

"I imagine. And what did Sam say?" Brie asked of her father.

"Grandpa thought it was an excellent idea to come up here for a little while and he reminded us all that you did that yourself, Brie."

"And you know what? He was very supportive and encouraging at the time, even though he was at least as worried about me as your parents are about you. He had guessed I was in love. Your grandpa is a pretty modern, savvy guy."

"Yes," Angie said quietly. She was close to Sam Sheridan and had often wished, over the past nine months, that she could tell him she had seen Grandma and that she had looked wonderful. But she wasn't sure she hadn't been dreaming or hallucinating, and second, Grandma had been gone such a long time. She didn't want to stir up grief in her grandpa.

Preacher came out of the kitchen with a look of stun and awe on his face as he pulled off his apron and tossed it over the bar before grabbing Angie up in his big arms, spinning her right off her stool. "Aw, girl, girl, girl," he said, hugging her tight. Then he held her away and looked her over. "You are beautiful!" And then he had to let go of her to wipe his eyes.

"Preach," she said, laughing.

Paige slipped around her husband, giving Angie a warm hug. "I'm so glad you're here," she said softly.

"Your big scary husband is crying."

"I know," she said. "He's such a softie. He's the last person you want to meet in a dark alley, but he's so tenderhearted. He cries at Disney movies and Hallmark commercials."

"Yesterday I cried over football," he said. "It was pathetic all day. I'm just so damn glad to see you, Ange. Your uncle Jack was a mess while you were in the hospital, he was so worried."

"And as you can see, all is well," she said.

"Mel says you want a takeout. I'll make you anything you want—you just tell me what."

"I'll have whatever's on the menu and a bottle of wine. Do you have any sauvignon blanc?"

"Are you sure you're allowed alcohol?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she said with a laugh, holding up her glass. "Hence the beer I'm drinking. I promise not to get wasted. But, gee, some of Preacher's dinner, a glass of wine, a fire, a book, peace and quiet… Oh, Jack, there are logs out there, right?"

"You're all set," he said. "Do you know how to light the fire?"

She rolled her eyes. "Preacher, do you suppose I could do a little graze through your kitchen? Grab some staples—a few eggs, some milk, bread, that sort of thing? In case I wake up starving?"

"Absolutely," he said.

Although it was soft and low, Angie heard someone clear his throat. There, at the end of the bar in the corner was a lone man in an army-green, down-padded jacket. He had dark hair, an empty beer glass and some money in his hand.

Jack turned to him, took his money and said, "Thanks, bud. See you around."

"Have a nice reunion," the man said, moving to leave.

He was so tall—that was what Angie noticed first. As tall as her uncle Jack. And his dark hair had some red in it. Dark auburn. She'd never seen that combination before, unless it was on a woman and had come out of a bottle. Usually red shades were found in blond or light brown hair. The stubble on his cheeks had a tinge of red, too.

As he walked toward the door, their eyes met and Angie felt her cheeks grow warm—he'd caught her staring. He had the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. They had to be contacts. He gave her a half smile and then he turned and was gone.

"Wow," she said. "Whew. Who's the hottie?"

Brie laughed and said, "I think our girl is fully recovered."

Jack let go a little growl. "He's not the one for you," he said.

Angie looked around at all the smiling faces—Brie, Paige, Preacher…. "Gee, did I ask if he was right for me?"

Preacher chortled loudly, another thing the big cook seldom did. "Patrick Riordan," he told her. "He's here sitting out a little leave. He's Navy. I think he got hurt or something."

"Nah, he didn't get hurt," Jack clarified. "Luke said there was an accident during his last deployment and he decided to take a little leave or something. Rior-dans, good people, but that one's got troubles right now. You might want to give him a wide berth. I don't know all the details, but it sounds like combat issues. ."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to get mixed up with anyone with combat issues,''" Preacher joked. And Jack glared at him. Preacher put a big hand on An-gie's shoulder and said, "He's been kind of quiet and grumpy while he's been in town. If you got to know him a little, you know what? I bet he wouldn't cheer you up that much."

That made Angie laugh. "Well, how about that—we both had accidents. Now, what's for dinner, Preach?"

"Big surprise, turkey soup. It'll keep you very healthy. I boiled two carcasses all day. Homemade noodles—the best. Even though it's not raining, I baked bread."

Her mouth began to water. "I'm in."

 

“The truth is, I was first published in 1978, and it took me thirty years to make it to The New York Times bestseller List.” 

 You can find Robyn on her website or on her facebook page she loves to hear from her fans. 

 You can buy My Kind Of Christmas from these bookstores

 

Release Date

(October 23, 2012)

 My Rating 

5 stars

My Review

Wednesday's Featured Sleep Over Novel (11/6/13)

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs 

 

(Glory St. Clair #5)

by 

Gerry Bartlett

 

Glory St. Clair loves soaking up Hollywood's vampire nightlife with her sexy Scottish lover, Jeremiah. Especially when she meets a vampire/ diet guru who promises to give her the body she's wanted for centuries. One problem: his clan and Jeremiah's are ancient enemies. But Glory's not about to let a stupid family feud come between her and slender bliss. Yet, she can't help but wonder...how much is she willing to risk for her hips? And how much (and precisely what) is she willing to lose?

 
Gerry Bartlett figures that vampires are pretty much like everyone else except for the liquid diet.

 You can find Gerry on her website or on her facebook page, she loves to hear from her fans.

 You can buy Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs from these bookstores

 Release Date 

(February 2, 2010)

 My Raiting
4 stars

My Review

 

Wednesday's Featured Author (11/6/13)

Mating Instinct

  (Moon Shifter #3)

by 

 

Katie Reus

 

 As the beast within struggles to break free, he must learn to be what she needs...

Surviving for centuries, powerful lupine shifter Jayce Kazan managed to stay away from humans until he met Kat Saburova and was consumed by the need to protect her. But while Jayce shared his passion with the human seer, he refused to make her his bondmate—a refusal that caused the end of their relationship.

A year later, an attack that left Kat near death has resulted in another lupine shifter turning her. Furious that he wasn’t the one to save her, Jayce is determined to show Kat that he is the one she should rely on. But the newly turned shifter is still traumatized and worried that she’ll hurt those she loves, unless she can learn to control her inner wolf.

And as Jayce struggles to protect Kat from her own worst instincts and convince her to rekindle their love, the extremists who almost killed her are looking to finish the job…

Preview Excerpt:

Jayce Kazan parked his Harley in front of December McIntyre’s house. The feisty pregnant redhead wouldn’t be there because she now lived on the Armstrong ranch with her mate and the rest of the lupine shifter pack who made their home in Fontana, North Carolina.

But Kat would be home.

Or she should be. Even after December moved, Kat had stayed there instead of moving to the ranch. After her brutal attack by the radical Antiparanormal League (APL) group a month ago and subsequent near-death experience, she’d been turned into a lupine shifter out of necessity. Just like him. The only difference between them was he’d been born that way almost five hundred years ago. Well, maybe not the only difference. He was a crass, roughneck enforcer who’d killed more beings than he could ever hope to count and she was . . . fucking perfection.

At least to him.

Right now she wasn’t returning his calls. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him most and he wanted to rip his own heart out because of it. At least then maybe he’d be able to assuage some of his guilt. One of the Armstrong pack members had bitten her and turned her into a shifter instead of letting her die. She’d had only a one percent chance of surviving the change, and even though Jayce was grateful that Aiden had saved her, a dark part of him hated that bastard.

He hated the fact that he hadn’t been the one to save her. That someone else had had the honor of taking what was his. His human side knew he’d never planned to change Kat—it would have turned her into a walking target overnight if anyone discovered how deep his feelings for her ran—but his animal side didn’t give a shit. No one should have ever touched what was his.

Though she really wasn’t his, was she? Not anymore anyway. Hadn’t been for almost a year. At one time she had been. He’d kissed and teased every inch of her naked body and she’d done the same to him. Things had never been particularly easy between them—not with their strong personalities—but with the exception of his MIA brother she was the only person on the planet he’d ever let his guard down around. She brought out the best in him. Hell, she also brought out his worst, protective side. For over a month he’d exercised all his restraint just staying away from her while working for the Council.

After getting only an hour of sleep last night, he was edgy and ready to rip someone’s head off. Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest idea to roll up to see her the moment he’d gotten back in town, but he didn’t care. He needed to see her.

Craved it so bad his canines ached at the thought. She could slam the door on him for all he cared. He just needed to see her face.

As he swung his leg over the bike and straightened, he glanced up and saw Ryan get out of his truck across the street. Though he didn’t want to be patient or polite, he waited while the other shifter strode toward him.

Ryan wore a thick down jacket and jeans and even though Jayce couldn’t see an outline, he knew the guy was packing a few weapons. The chilly January weather wouldn’t have affected Ryan like it would humans, so he knew the main reason the shifter was wearing a jacket was to hide guns and blades. “Hey, Jayce. What are you doing here?”

Jayce raised an eyebrow at the question. Why the hell wouldn’t he be here?

Ryan’s lips pulled into a thin line. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t know you’d be back so early. Thought you were still on Council business or something.”

He shrugged. As the enforcer for the North American Council of lupine shifters, Jayce didn’t answer to anyone. Not Ryan. Not even Connor Armstrong, leader of the Armstrong pack and also Ryan’s Alpha. No one. While he might work for the Council, he sure as hell didn’t answer to them either. They needed him and he made damn sure they never forgot it. So even if he didn’t have to answer the wolf in front of him, or that wolf’s boss, he knew that projecting his own bad mood wouldn’t win him any friends, and right now he needed all the fucking friends he could get. “Caught an early flight and headed over here. Haven’t called Connor to let him know I’m in town, though, so . . .”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll let you call him.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” The word felt foreign on his lips. He should have called Connor the moment he arrived in town out of respect, but he had a lot to discuss with him and some of it needed to be done in person. He’d received information that someone was trafficking vampire blood in the next county. After settling in, he intended to search out some former contacts. Not to mention he still planned to ferret out any possible dangerous APL members still in the area. That problem hadn’t gone away and he knew it wasn’t likely to anytime soon. More than anything, he just wanted to see Kat. Everything else took a backseat. “When did she get home?” Jayce didn’t need to specify who he referred to.

Ryan shrugged. “Few hours ago. She was at the ranch with, uh . . . Aiden, training, but she still won’t move there to live with the pack. Which is why we’re still watching her in shifts.”

Jayce already knew that. After the attack from those APL fuckers nearly killed her, she’d been fairly defiant in her demand that she live away from what was now her pack. Connor had jurisdiction over her since she technically lived in his territory, but considering that she’d been turned into a shifter without the proper introduction to pack life and rules, Connor was giving her some leeway. He was a fair Alpha, so Jayce wasn’t exactly surprised. Even if he did hate the fact that Connor wouldn’t force her to live on the ranch, where she’d be protected at all times.

“You have a key to the house?” Jayce asked, though he was already pretty certain of the answer. Connor wouldn’t have left anyone to watch the house without a way to get inside if necessary. Of course they could break in, but cleaning up a mess was a hassle Jayce knew the Alpha wouldn’t want to deal with.

Ryan paused. “Yeah. She’s gonna be pissed if you just walk in there.”

“I know.” He held out his hand, not asking for it but silently demanding.

Sighing, the other wolf dug a single key out of his pocket and handed it over. As he headed back to his vehicle, Ryan muttered something under his breath about Jayce taking his life into his own hands.

If he’d had more sleep or was in a better mood, he might have smiled at the statement. A pissed-off Kat was a sight to see. And he’d only seen her truly angry when she’d been human. He could just imagine her attitude as a shifter.

The last time he’d seen her as a lupine shifter had been directly after her transformation. She’d been healed after the change but covered in her own blood. And another wolf had been holding her.

Protecting her.

Comforting her.

Jayce still didn’t know the details of what had happened to her during her hours of torture—she refused to tell anyone about it—but according to December she still had nightmares.

And no one was there to ease her pain. Jayce’s hands balled into fists as he turned and headed up the stone walkway. Ever since they’d found Kat in that broken-down barn, he’d been living in hell. It was the feeling of helplessness that nearly undid him every time he thought of her. Which was practically every second of every day. The tall, gorgeous woman invaded his dreams when he was sleeping. He should have been there to save her. If he had been, he would have been the one to change her into a shifter.

The second he stepped into the house, he knew Kat wasn’t there. Her scent was there, but he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. She’d been gone maybe twenty minutes if he had to guess from her fading scent. Had ducked her guard just as he feared she’d do since Connor had let her live apart from the pack.

Jayce knew it wasn’t the first time she’d done this either. December had become an unlikely source of information, but she was worried about her friend and often called him with updates on Kat.

This kind of shit was going to stop as far as he was concerned. If she didn’t care about her own safety, she needed to at least be concerned about the rest of the pack. And according to December, over the past week Kat had been disappearing for hours at a time. She wouldn’t tell anyone what she was doing either. Since Jayce had heard she’d been having difficulty controlling her change from human to wolf, that could be a very dangerous thing for all the local shifters.

Worry and possessiveness rose up inside him. His need to protect Kat was deep-seated, something he still didn’t understand completely. He’d felt it the moment he’d met her and it jarred him every time he was near her. Or thought about her.

Inhaling, he followed the trail of her scent out the back door, through December’s backyard, and over to the next street. The distinctive scent of roses was so blatantly Kat—every time he smelled the damn flower he thought of her. But it was slightly different than the actual rose. The classic smell mixed with something sweeter, purer, and all Kat. He would recognize it anywhere.

She hadn’t been gone long, so he hurried back to his bike and headed out. He didn’t bother telling Ryan that Kat was gone either. No one was going after her except him. Anyone who tried to interfere tonight would probably get hurt. Including any shifters.

On his motorcycle it was easy to trail her in his human form. Hell, as an enforcer he preferred his human form. He was much older than most shifters and once he let his animal take over, it was always a struggle for control with his inner wolf. Right now he needed to exert as much restraint as possible. Where Kat was concerned, it was important, if not necessary.

A short ride later he pulled into the parking lot of Kelly’s Bar and Grill, a local Irish bar in the middle of downtown Fontana. The mountain town in North Carolina saw a lot of tourists in the winter months, and judging from the number of cars in the parking lot, the place was packed tonight.

He rolled his shoulders as he stepped off his bike. Being around too many people—humans or supernatural beings—always put him on edge. All those scents were overwhelming. He’d much rather be outdoors, far from civilization.

As he stepped inside the bar, Kat’s scent grew stronger. Even among the stench of perfumes, booze, and other body odors, her sweet rose aroma tickled his nose and wrapped around him. Embracing him like a gentle caress.

“Would you like to be seated in our dining area or would you prefer to find a seat at the bar?” A bubbly blond female wearing black pants and a black T-shirt held a menu in her hand as she looked at him.

“Bar’s fine,” he said, brushing past her.

A burst of annoyance rolled off the human, but right now all he cared about was tracking Kat down. After a quick lap around the place, he followed her trail out a side exit door.

Once he was outside in the crisp night air, the strong scent of roses enveloped him. She was close. Frowning, he looked around the area behind the restaurant. A Dumpster was to his left, which gave him cover as he scanned the small gravel parking lot, where a few cars were parked. Employee vehicles, he guessed.

And that was when he spotted Kat.

She was leaning against the passenger side of an extended-cab truck with her back to him. Tall, lean, drop-dead gorgeous. Her long dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail that hung halfway down her back. She wore formfitting jeans and a skintight long-sleeved black T-shirt. If she’d still been human she’d have needed a coat, but thanks to her transformation from human to shifter she had a higher body temperature now.

Sticking to the shadows, he moved behind the Dumpster and slid along the wall of the restaurant until he was at the edge of the building, twenty yards from where Kat stood talking to a human male.

A growl rose inside him, but he tamped it down and listened to their conversation. As the human talked about heading back to his place to “party,” Jayce nearly lost control of his beast. His inner wolf clawed at him with razor-sharp aggression, tearing and stripping away his insides, begging for freedom.

When the human opened the passenger door for Kat and she actually got inside, Jayce’s claws extended and dug into his palms. The tearing of his flesh jerked him back to reality. Ducking behind the Dumpster, he somehow managed to keep himself under control as the vehicle pulled out of the parking lot.

Just barely.

As the truck drove past the left side of the restaurant, Jayce raced around the right side and headed for his bike in the front.

Whatever Kat thought she was doing with that guy tonight, she’d better think again.

 

 Katie Reus is the New York Times, USA Today, and IndieReader bestselling author of the Red Stone Security series, the Moon Shifter series and the Deadly Ops series.

You can find Katie on her website or on her facebook page, she loves to hear from her fans! 

You can buy Mating Instinct from these bookstores

 Release Date 

(March 5, 2013)

 My rating 

5 stars 

My Review

 

Tuesday's Featured Sleep Over Novel (11/5/13)

Kissing Coffins 

  (Vampire Kisses #2)

by 

  Ellen Schreiber

 

 

 Not far from Dullsville, someone's lurking in the dark. . . .

After meeting the handsome and shadowy Alexander Sterling, goth-girl Raven's dark world has a bright, new glow. But as in her favorite movie, "Kissing Coffins," Raven knows that love always has its complications, especially when Alexander has a big secret to guard.

When Alexander suddenly disappears, Raven leaves Dullsville to begin a dangerous search to find him. Can she stay safe, no matter who--or what--she encounters on the way?

Preview Excerpt

It was like a final nail in a coffin.

Becky and I were camped out in my darkened bedroom, engrossed in the eighties cult horror classic Kissing Coffins. The femme fatale, Jenny, a teenage, malnourished blond wearing a size negative-two white cotton dress, was desperately running up a serpentine rock footpath toward an isolated haunted mansion. Bright veins of lightning shot overhead in the pouring rain.

Only the night before had Jenny unearthed the true identity of her fiancé when she stumbled upon his hidden dungeon and found him climbing out of a coffin. The dashing Vladimir Livingston, a renowned English professor, was not a mere mortal after all, but an immortal blood-sucking vampire. Upon hearing Jenny's blood-curdling screams, Professor Livingston immediately covered his fangs with his black cape. His red eyes remained unconcealed, gazing back at her longingly.

"You cannot bear witness to me in this state," I said along with the vampire.

Jenny didn't flee. Instead, she reached out toward her fiancé. Her vampire love growled, reluctantly stepped back into the shadows, and disappeared.

The fang flick had gathered a goth cult following that continued today. Audience members flocked to retro cine-mas in full costume, shouted the lines of the movie in unison, and acted out the various roles in front of the screen. Although I'd seen the movie a dozen times at home on DVD and knew all the words, I'd never been blessed with participating in a theatrical showing. This was Becky's first time watching it. We sat in my room, glued tothe screen, as Jenny decided to return to the professor's mansion to confront her immortal lover. Becky dug her gnawed-on blood-red-painted fingernails into my arm as Jenny slowly opened the creaky wooden arch-shaped dungeon door. The ingénue softly crept down the massive winding staircase into Vladimir's darkened basement, torches and cobwebs hanging on the cement brick walls. A simple black coffin sat in the center of the room, earth sprinkled beneath it. She approached it cautiously. With all her might, Jenny lifted the heavy coffin lid.
Violins screeched to a climax. Jenny peered inside. The coffin was empty.
Becky gasped. "He's gone!"
Tears began to well in my eyes. It was like watching myself on-screen. My own love, Alexander Sterling, had vanished into the night two evenings ago, shortly after I had discovered he, too, was a vampire.
Jenny leaned over the empty casket and melodramatically wept as only a B-movie actress could.
A tear threatened to fall from my eye. I wiped it off with the back of my hand before Becky could see. I pressed the "Stop" button on the remote and the screen went black.
"Why did you turn it off?" Becky asked. Her disgruntled face was barely illuminated by the few votives I had scattered around my room. A tear rolling down her cheek caught the reflection of one of the candles. "It was just getting to the good part."

"I've seen this a hundred times," I said, rising, and ejected the DVD.

"But I haven't," she whined. "What happens next?"
"We can finish it next time," I reassured her as I put the DVD away in my closet.
"If Matt were a vampire," Becky pondered, referring to her khaki-clad new boyfriend, "I'd let him take a bite out of me anytime."
I felt challenged by her innocent remark, but I bit my tongue. I couldn't share my most secretest of secrets even with my best friend.
"Really, you don't know what you'd do" was all I could say.
"I'd let him bite me," she replied matter-of-factly.
"It's getting late," I said, turning on the light.
I hadn't slept the last two nights since Alexander left. My eyes were blacker than the eye shadow I put on them.
"Yeah, I have to call Matt before nine," she said, glancing at my Nightmare Before Christmas alarm clock. "Would you and Alexander meet us for a movie tomorrow?" she asked, grabbing her jean jacket from the back of my computer chair.
"Uh . . . we can't," I stalled, blowing out the votives. "Maybe next week."
"Next week? But I haven't even seen him since the party."
"I told you, Alexander's studying for exams."
"Well, I'm sure he'll ace them," she said. "He's been cracking the books all day and night."
Of course, I couldn't tell anyone, even Becky, why Alexander had disappeared. I wasn't even sure of the reason myself.
But mostly, I couldn't admit to myself that he had gone. I was in denial. Gone -- the word turned my stomach and choked my throat. Just the thought of explaining to my parents that Alexander had left Dullsville brought tears to my eyes. I couldn't bear accepting the truth, much less telling it.
And I didn't want another rumor mill circulating throughout Dullsville. If word got out that Alexander had moved without warning, who knows what conclusions the gossipmongers would jump to.

At this point, I wanted to maintain the status quo: keep up appearances until the RBI -- Raven Bureau of Investigation -- had a few more days to figure out a plan.

"We'll double-date soon," I promised as I walked Becky outside to her truck.
"I'm dying to know. . . ," she said, climbing into her pickup truck. "What happens to Jenny?"
"Uh . . . She tries to find Vladimir."
Becky closed her door, rolled down the window. "If I discovered Matt was a vampire and then he disappeared, I'd search for him," she said confidently. "I know you'd do the same for Alexander."
She started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

My best friend's remark was like a package of Pop Rocks blasting off in my brain. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner? I'd spent the last several days worrying how long I'd have to keep making excuses for Alexander's absence. Now I wouldn't be forced to wait an eternity in Dullsville wondering if he'd ever return. I didn't have to jump every time the telephone rang to find out it was for my mother.

 

 "Before I took pen to paper I was an actress." 

You can find Ellen on her website or on her facebook page, she loves to hear from her fans. 

 You can buy Kissing Coffins from these bookstores

Release Date

(5/1/2007)

My Rating 

4 stars

My Review

 

Tuesday's Featured Author (11/5/13)

The Darkest Craving 

  (Lords of the Underworld #10)

by 

Gena Showalter

 

 Having endured weeks of torture in the bowels of hell, Kane wants nothing to do with his beautiful rescuer, Josephina Aisling. The half-Fae female threatens to awaken the demon of Disaster inside him—a beast he’s determined to kill, no matter the price.

Josephina is hunted by a brutal enemy—her royal family—and Kane is her only source of protection. He’s also the only male to ever set her aflame, and even he succumbs to the heat. But as they navigate the treacherous world of the Fae, they are forced to make a choice: live apart…or die together.

Preview Excerpt

New York City

Present day

Josephina Aisling peered down at the male splayed across the motel room bed. He was an immortal warrior, beautiful in a way no mortal could ever hope to be. Silky hair of jet, chestnut and flax spilled over the pillow, the multicolored strands forming a flawless tapestry, inviting the eye to linger a minute, then a minute more…sweet mercy, why not forever?

His name was Kane. He had long, boyish lashes, a strong nose and a stubborn chin. At six feet four, he was cut with the kind of muscle only earned on the bloodiest of battlefields. Though he wore stained and dirty pants, she knew a large butterfly tattoo dominated the right side of his hip, the ink thick and black, a little jagged. The tops of the wings stretched over the material and every so often tiny waves rippled through them, as though the insect struggled to lift from his skin—or burrow deeper.

Either was possible. The tattoo was a mark of absolute, utter evil, a visible sign of the demon contained inside Kane's body.

Demon… She shuddered. Rulers of hell. Liars, thieves. Murderers. They were darkness without any hint of light. They lured and tempted. They ruined, tortured and destroyed.

But Kane wasn't the demon.

Like all of her race, the mighty Fae, she had spent a good portion of her life studying Kane and his friends—the Lords of the Underworld. In fact, at the command of the Fae king, spies had spent countless centuries following the warriors, watching and reporting back. Scribes had then printed books with stories and pictures of what they'd witnessed. Mothers had bought those books and read them to their children. Then, when those children had grown up, they had made their own purchases, the need to know what happened next too strong to ignore.

The Lords of the Underworld had become the stars of the best and the worst soap opera in Seduire, the realm of the Fae.

Josephina always ate up every detail. Especially those about the ultra sexy Paris and the devastatingly lonely Torin. Kane, the beautiful tragedy, was a close third. She could probably recite his life history better than she could her own.

He was thousands of years old. He'd only had four serious girlfriends in his lifetime. Although, for a while, he'd had a string of meaningless one-night stands. He'd fought in bloody battle after bloody battle with his enemy, the Hunters. Three times, they'd managed to capture and torture him—and she'd waited, breathless, to hear of his escape.

Going back even further, to the beginning, he and his friends had stolen and opened Pandora's box, unleashing the demons from inside. The Greeks had been in power at the time, and they'd decided to punish the warriors by turning their bodies into receptacles for the very evil they'd freed. Kane carried Disaster. The others carried Promiscuity, Disease, Distrust, Violence, Death, Pain, Wrath, Doubt, Lies, Misery, Secrets and Defeat. Each creature came with a nearly debilitating curse.

Promiscuity had to sleep with a new woman every day or he weakened and died.

Disease couldn't touch another living creature without starting a plague.

Disaster caused catastrophes everywhere Kane went, a fact that sliced at Josephina's heart and resonated deep. Her entire life was a disaster.

"Don't touch me," he muttered, his voice a sharp, callous rasp. Powerful legs kicked the already battered sheets away. "Hands off. Stop. I said stop!"

Poor Kane. Another nightmare plagued him.

"No one's touching you," she assured him. "You're safe."

He calmed, and she released a relieved breath.

When she'd first stumbled upon him, he'd been chained to a dais in hell, his chest cavity split open, his ribs spread and exposed, his wrists and ankles hanging on by fraying tendons.

He'd looked like a slab of beef at the local butcher's.

I'll have a two-pound rump roast and a pound of ground chuck.

Gross. Just gross. I'm thoroughly disgusted with you. Over the years, she'd spent so much time alone, conversing with herself had become her only source of amusement…and sadly, companionship. I would have ordered four pounds of pork loin.

Despite his condition, finding him was the best thing to ever happen to her. He was her ticket to freedom. Or possibly…acceptance?

Princess Synda, her half sister and the Fae's most bestest female ever born, wasn't a Lord, but she carried the demon of Irresponsibility. Apparently, there had been more demons than naughty, box-stealing warriors, and the excess had been given to the inmates of Tartarus—an underground prison for immortals. Synda's first husband had been one of those inmates, and somehow, when the male had died, the demon had wormed its way inside her.

When the king of the Fae had learned of it, he'd launched a hunt for details about the cause—and the solution. So far, everyone had come up empty.

I could bring Kane to a meeting of the Fae High Court, show him off, let him answer any questions the congregation has, and my father might see me, really see me, for the first time in my life.

Her shoulders drooped. No, I'm not ever going back.

Josephina had always been, and would always be the royal whipping girl, there to receive the punishments Synda the Beloved was due.

Synda was always due.

Last week, in a fit of temper, the princess had burned to the ground the royal stables, and all of the animals trapped inside. Josephina's sentence? A ticket to the Neverending—a portal leading into hell.

There, a day was like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day, so, for what had seemed like an endless eternity, she had fallen down, down, down a blackened pit. She had screamed, but no one had heard. Had begged for mercy, but no one had cared. Had cried, but had never found an anchor.

Then, she and another girl had landed in the center of hell.

How startling to realize she'd never actually been alone.

The girl had been a Phoenix, a race descended from the Greeks. Every full-blooded warrior possessed the ability to rise from the dead, time and time again, growing stronger after every resurrection—until the final death came, and there could be no more bodily restoration.

Kane began to thrash and moan again. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she told him.

Again, he stilled.

If only the Phoenix had responded to her so well. When the girl had first seen her, hatred had lanced at her, hatred going far beyond what the children of the Titans—like Josephina—and the children of the Greeks usually felt for each other. But even still, the Phoenix hadn't tried to kill her, had instead allowed her to follow her through the cave, searching for the exit, without having to exert any of her own waning energy. Like Josephina, she'd just wanted out.

They had stumbled past crimson-splattered walls, inhaling the fetid stink of sulfur. Grunts and groans had reverberated in their ears, creating a terrible symphony their deprived senses hadn't been ready for. Then they'd stumbled upon the mutilated warrior. Josephina had recognized him, despite his condition, and stopped.

Awe had filled her. There, in front of her—her!—had been one of the infamous Lords of the Underworld. She hadn't known how she could help him, when she could barely help herself, but she'd been determined to try. Whatever proved necessary.

A lot had proven necessary.

She looked at him. "You were my first and only opportunity to achieve my new greatest desire," she admitted, "something I definitely couldn't do on my own.

And as soon as you wake up, I'm going to need you to make good on your promise." And then.

She sighed, quieted. She brushed her fingertips over his brow.

Even in his sleep, he flinched. "Don't," he snarled. "I'll destroy you, piece by piece. You and your entire family."

He wasn't bragging, wasn't issuing a hollow threat. He would ensure it happened, and he would probably smile the entire time.

Probably? Ha! He would. Typical Lord.

"Kane," she said, and again, he calmed. "I think maybe it's time to wake you up. My family is out there, and they want me back. While a thousand years passed for me inside that pit, only a day passed for them. Since I failed to return to Seduire, Fae soldiers are probably hunting me."

To add to her bowl of miserypuffs, the Phoenix was definitely hunting her, determined to enslave her and avenge the wrong Josephina had done her during their escape.

"Kane." She gently shook his shoulder. His skin was shockingly soft and exquisitely smooth, yet also feverishly hot, the muscles beneath as tight and firm as grenades. "I need you to open your eyes."

Long lashes flipped up, revealing gold-and-emerald irises glassed over and dulled. A second later, big masculine hands wrapped around her neck and tossed her to her back. The mattress bounced, even with her slight weight. She offered no resistance as Kane rolled on top of her, pinning her in place. He was heavy, his grip so tight she couldn't breathe in the rose scent she'd come to associate with him. An odd fragrance for a male, and one she didn't understand.

"Who are you?" he snarled. "Where are we?"

He's speaking directly to me. Me!

"Answer."

She tried to reply, couldn't. He loosened his hold.

There. Better. Deep breath in. Out. "For starters, I'm your amazing and wonderful rescuer." Since receiving compliments had died with her mother, she'd decided to give them to herself at every opportunity. "Release me, and we'll work out the particulars."

"Who," he demanded, squeezing her tighter.

Black winked through her line of sight. Her lungs burned, desperate for air, but still she offered no resistance.

"Female." The pressure eased again. "Answer. Now."

"Caveman. Free. Now," she retorted as she sucked in oxygen.

Could you watch your mouth, please? You don't want to scare him away.

He jerked away from her to crouch at the end of the bed. His gaze remained on her, watching intently as she slowly sat up. A red flush colored his cheeks, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by his actions or simply struggling to hide the weakness still pumping through him.

"You have five seconds, female."

"Or what, warrior? You'll hurt me?"

"Yes." Determined. Assured.

Silly man. Would it be totally gauche of her to ask him to sign her T-shirt? "Don't you remember what you promised me?"

"I didn't promise you anything," he said, and though his tone was confident, his features darkened with confusion.

"You did. Think back to your last day in hell. It was you, me and a couple thousand of your worst enemies."

His brows drew together, and his eyes glazed with remembrance, comprehension…then horror. He shook his head, as though desperate to dislodge the thoughts now swirling through his mind. "You weren't serious. You couldn't have been serious."

"I was."

He popped his jaw, an action of frustrated aggression. "What's your name?"

"I think it's better if you don't know. That way, there's no emotional attachment and you can more easily do what I require."

"I never actually said I'd do it," he gritted out. "And why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm…a giant box of chocolates."

"I've heard of you," she said, and left it at that. Truth, without explanation.

"Hardly. If you'd heard anything about me, you'd be running away in fear."

Oh, really? "I know that during the many wars you've fought, your friends often left you behind, afraid you'd cause some kind of travesty for them. I know you often keep yourself shut away from the world, terrified of the same. And yet, still you've managed to slay thousands. Dare I say bazillions?"

He ran his tongue over perfect white teeth. "How do you know that?"

"Why don't we call it…gossip."

"Gossip isn't always right," he muttered. In seconds, he had swept his gaze through the small room and re-focused on her.

She also happened to know that visual caress was a habit he'd developed through the years, one meant to take everything in. Entrances, exits, weapons that could be used against him—weapons he could use.

This time, all he would have seen was the peeling yellow wallpaper, the scarred nightstand with the chipped lamp. The sputtering air-conditioning unit. The brown shag carpet. The trash bin filled with bloody rags and emptied tubes of medicine she'd used on his abrasions.

"That day in hell," he began. "You told me what you wanted, and then you made the mistake of assuming I agreed."

That sounded like a refusal. But…he can't refuse me. Not now. "You gurgled your assent. Afterward, I did my part. Now you will do yours."

"No. I never asked for your help." His voice lashed like the sharpest of whips, striking at her, leaving an undeniable sting. "Never wanted it."

"You did, too! Your eyes begged me, and you can't deny it. You couldn't see your eyes, so you have no idea what they were doing."

A protracted pause. Then, quite calmly, he said, "I think that's the most illogical argument I've ever heard."

"No, it's the smartest, but your puny brain simply can't compute it."

"My eyes did not beg," he said, "and that's final."

"They did, too," she insisted. "And I did a terrible thing to get you out." Sadly, sending the Phoenix a note of apology wouldn't fix the problem.

As weak as Josephina had been in hell, she'd required help with Kane. Only, once she'd caught up to the Phoenix, still hacking her way to freedom, there'd been a slight problem. The girl had refused so vehemently—rot in hell, Fae whore—that Josephina had known there would be no hope of changing her mind. So, Josephina had used the ability she alone carried. A blessing in the right circumstances. A curse that had kept her locked in a world without physical contact. With only a touch, she'd stolen the strength right out of the Phoenix's body, reducing the girl to a boneless heap.

Yes, Josephina had draped the warrior woman over one shoulder and carried her out of hell, the same as she'd done for Kane, fighting demons along the way—a miracle considering she'd never fought a day in her life—eventually finding a way outside, but that wouldn't matter to the Phoenix. A crime had been committed, and a price had to be paid.

"I never asked you to do terrible things." His voice contained the darkest of warnings.

One she did not heed. "Maybe not audibly, but even still, I nearly broke my back saving you." She settled to her knees, shaking the mattress and nearly bouncing the weakened Kane to the floor. "You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they're glorious pounds," she rushed to add. Stop insulting the man!

His slitted gaze tripped over every inch of her. The action lacked the stealth he'd used for the room, and yet, it was almost tactile, as if he'd touched her, too. Could he see the goose bumps now breaking over her skin?

"How did a girl like you manage such a feat?"

A girl like her. Did he sense her inferiority? She lifted her chin, saying, "An information exchange wasn't part of our bargain."

"For the last time, woman, there was no bargain."

Tremors of dread rocked her, overshadowing…whatever he'd previously made her feel. "If you don't do what you promised, I'll…I'll…"

"What?"

Suffer for the rest of my life. "What would it take to change your mind and make you do the right thing?"

His expression shuttered, hiding all of his thoughts. "What species are you?"

A question totally off topic, but okay, she could roll. Since the Fae were not a well-liked race, the men best known for their lack of honor in battle, as well as their insatiable need to sleep with anything that moved, and the women known for backstabbing and scandal—and okay, fine, their ability to sew a killer wardrobe—the knowledge might spur him into action.

"I'm half human, half Fae. See?" She pulled back the sides of her hair, drawing his attention to her ears and the points at the end.

His gaze locked on those points and narrowed. "Fae are descendants of Titans. Titans are children of fallen angels and humans. They are the current rulers of the lowest level of the skies." He shot out each fact as if it were a bullet.

Can't roll my eyes at a star. "Thank you for the history lesson."

He frowned. "That makes you."

Evil in his eyes? An enemy?

He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. Then, his nose wrinkled, as if he'd just smelled some-thing…not unpleasant, but not welcome, either. He inhaled sharply, and his frown deepened. "You look nothing like the girl who rescued me…girls who rescued me…no, just one," he said with another shake of his head, as if he were trying to make sense of things that had happened. "Her face and hair kept changing, and I recall each countenance, yet what I see now I didn't see then. But your scent…"

Was the same, yes. "I possessed the ability to switch my appearance."

One of his brows arched. "Possessed. Past tense."

 

 Gena Showalter is a New York Times and USA Today best selling author.

 You can find Gena on her website or on her Facebook Page, she loves to hear from her fans. 

 You can buy The Darkest Craving from these bookstores

 




 Release Date 

(7/30/2013)

 My Rating

1 star

My Review