logo
Wrong email address or username
Wrong email address or username
Incorrect verification code
back to top
Search tags: Blog-Tour
Load new posts () and activity
Like Reblog Comment
show activity (+)
text 2017-09-21 13:05
Blog Tour: Heel Lead by Dawn K. Henderson with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Dawn K. Henderson’s Heel Lead. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

 

Because life is one big ballroom – and all we can do is dance… Former UK dance champion Caroline Elliott has two burning passions in her life: her sexy, young Spanish lover Antonio, and the weekly Ballroom dance class she teaches to a diverse group of enthusiastic locals in the small English town of Castleham where she lives. But Caroline has a problem. The numbers attending her class have dwindled, and unless she can somehow breathe new life into it, she will have no choice but to close it down. A dance display at the local Arts Festival might just be the perfect opportunity to showcase her students and pull in those much-needed new members. How difficult could it be? With the date of the display approaching, however, illness, affairs and relationship break-ups threaten to crush Caroline’s hopes. As she battles to keep rehearsals on track and soothe her students’ rampant nerves, she must also conquer the demons of a long-ago tragedy in her own life. Will she be able to let go of her fears and step into the spotlight once again? Heel Lead is an emotional, passionate and poignant story that entertains while it tugs at your heartstrings. In this short yet compelling novel, author Dawn K. Henderson presents a captivating tale of the power of love, dance and the ties that bind us.

 

 

goodreads-badge-add-plus-

 

 

Buy Link 

 

Amazon 

 

Chapter 1

The Dance Class

 

Two, three, cha-cha-cha. The music chirruped gaily, pumping out the familiar notes of an old pop song. ‘Ouch! For God’s sake, you clumsy idiot.’ Stuart had trodden on his wife’s toe again – the third time that evening already – and she was laying into him big time. Caroline winced in sympathy. Poor Stuart, she felt sorry for him. Angela could be a right harpy at times and was no elegant swan on the dance floor herself. And while it painfully true that her feet were often subjected to Stuart’s abuse, to be fair it wasn’t always his fault. Angela needed to move more quickly. Caroline shook her head. Angela and Stuart loved their dance classes, they had told her so often; it just never seemed like it with all the conflict it created between them. If only Angela would replace those open-toed sandals with a closed-in shoe, her feet wouldn’t suffer half as much from Stuart’s mis-steps. But she had pointedly ignored Caroline’s frequent suggestions that she do so, claiming she didn’t like the full shoe, and eventually Caroline had given up trying. Angela! Caroline had tried hard to like her, really she had. But, to be blunt, the woman really wasn’t very likeable. She was sharp-tongued, critical, and quick to take offence, with a physical appearance to match her character. Although she wasn’t old, only in her late thirties, her severe hairstyle – always pulled back into a tight bun – and permanently cheerless expression made her look considerably older. Caroline did her best not to judge; she had heard rumours of a tragedy in Angela’s past that the woman had been unable to move on from, and in an unguarded moment, Stuart had hinted at it too, a haunted look momentarily darkening his features. What the tragedy had been remained a mystery. Stuart bore the brunt of his wife’s constant ill-humour with endless tolerance, letting the verbal blows fall, rarely retaliating, and then only with the gentlest of reproaches. He was popular with the rest of the class, friendly and approachable with a smile for everyone in his warm eyes, and yet… In their depths drifted the unmistakeable shadow of an enduring sadness. Who knows what really lies beneath the faces and façades of anyone, even those we think we know well, Caroline pondered, watching them across the room. Angela’s complaining had fallen into a grumpy silence, though she was still looking daggers at her husband and limping exaggeratedly. The other couples were still cha-cha-ing around the room – four tonight, even less than usual. While at first sight, they seemed an unlikely bunch to be Ballroom dancing, after years of teaching, Caroline had learned not to judge by appearances. Take Trash and his wife Donna for instance. Of course, Trash wasn’t his real name but Reginald, the one given on his birth certificate, really didn’t suit the huge bulk of a man and he had been known as Trash for as long as he could remember. When he had first registered for her class, he had sworn Caroline to secrecy to never reveal his true identity. Of all the couples that came along to her class, Trash and Donna were perhaps the most incongruous and unlikely. Built like – to put it politely – the proverbial brick outhouse, Trash was a biker to his bones. Unruly sandy hair, now fading to the colour of washed-out nicotine and decidedly thin on top, reached below his shoulders, and had been pulled back into a rough ponytail for class. His face sported a beard of the same colour and length. He invariably wore tatty, faded blue jeans and an equally well-worn black T-shirt with the slogan ‘Ride or Die’ emblazoned across the front, the blood-dripping words entwined around a garish image of a scarlet skull from whose eye sockets heavily-fanged snakes stretched to breaking point over his impressive belly. His wife, Donna, barely reached his shoulder. Her dyed raven-black hair was chopped short, revealing heavily studded earlobes, and matching studs graced her eyebrows, nose and top lip. Caroline had never seen her in anything other than unrelieved black, usually jeans, T-shirt and a hefty leather belt. She was pretty, a little plump with curves that any woman would envy, in all the right places. The last bars of the Cha-cha faded. Next came a Waltz. Caroline revised the latest steps she had been teaching and started the music, returning to her study of Trash and Donna. She smiled as she watched them. They were probably the best dancers in the class. Despite his size, Trash was unexpectedly light-footed, and he floated across the floor, his huge bulk seemingly weightless as he guided Donna with a gentle but firm touch. Both of them felt, rather than heard, the music and its rhythm, and lost themselves in its magic; it was the secret ingredient essential to becoming a really good dancer that they both naturally possessed. Caroline had lost count of the times that technically able pupils of hers had failed to progress simply because they had been unable to get out of their heads and dance with their hearts. And of course, she thought with a touch of unwelcome envy, as she watched the couple glide around the room’s perimeter into a graceful Whisk, Wing and Telemark, Trash and Donna adored each other. The connection between them created a spark that was wonderful to watch, and forged an almost telepathic bond as they danced.

 

 

 

Dawn K. Henderson: Storyteller, poet & author   Goddess in training and ballroom diva (at least in her imagination)   12 years ago, Dawn walked into her first Ballroom dance class and the love affair began. Since then she has tango’d and quickstepped, waltzed and rumba’d through life. Although at the time of writing Heel Lead, she is without a permanent dance partner, she is fortunate enough to have good friends who lend her their men occasionally – she usually hands them back undamaged.   As D. K. Henderson, she is the author of The Skull Chronicles series of metaphysical adventure novels .   She lives and writes in the mystical, magical county of Wiltshire, England surrounded by crop circles, the ancient & mysterious stone monuments of Stonehenge and Avebury, and her own family of crystal skulls. When she isn't wandering the ancient downlands that inspire her novels and poetry, you'll probably find her pottering in the garden, foraging in the hedgerows or attempting a nifty Cha cha or elegant Waltz on the dance floor.  

 

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** LinkedIn *** Goodreads

 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

 

 

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-heel-lead-dawn-k-henderson-excerpt-giveaway
Like Reblog Comment
show activity (+)
text 2017-09-20 13:05
Blog Tour: The Dragon in the Garden by Erika Gardner with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Erika Gardner’s The Dragon in the Garden. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


There is magic beneath the mundane and in The Dragon in the Garden, Siobhan Orsini witnesses it all. No lie can fool her, no glamour or illusion can cloud her Sight. She sees through them all and wishes she could close her eyes. Returning to face her past, Siobhan inherits her grandparents’ house in California’s wine country. She encounters a talking dragon, a hot fallen angel, a demon lord, a Valkyrie, and, oh yes, her ex-boyfriend. And that is just in the first twenty-four hours.   It’s time to find out why she has this power.   Siobhan seeks out the Oracle and learns that only her Sight can help mankind navigate the travails of an ancient war. Our world is the prize in a battle between the dragons, who would defend us, and Lucifer’s fallen angels, who seek to take the Earth for themselves. Using her gift, she will have to make a choice that will decide humanity’s future.

goodreads-badge-add-plus-

Buy Links

Amazon *** Apple *** Kobo *** Nook 

 

Before I could run, Ian caught one of my arms with a painful twist. Unlike earlier, his expression exuded neither neutral nor curious. It had turned predatory. The hatred in his eyes, no longer veiled, burned. Something had changed. I swallowed hard. My mind raced. The conflicting kaleidoscope of images filled my vision. I struggled to move, but stayed immobile in his impossibly strong grip. Terror built then exploded inside me. Ian roughly grabbed my shoulders and spoke intently, “Haroa. I see you, Watcher.” “Lo, Innon!” I spun at the powerful shout, breaking Ian’s grasp and the visions’ hypnotic spell. The man I had helped yelled at Ian in fury. “No, Innon!” Ian stepped back. His face contorted with rage. “Turel, I found her. I see her. This is my right.” The dark-haired man folded his arms. He radiated authority. “No, for now I see her and there are laws that will not be broken. The human Haroa shall be present. She is in my Sight and in Our gaze. You will submit or pay forfeit, Innon.” The two men locked stares. I gasped as the man called Turel began to glow. The light, the sunshine in his eyes suffused his entire being. Shifting waves undulated above him. The area above his back and shoulders concealed a pocket in reality. As Daisy once hid her bulk from my five-year old self’s eyes in the garden, Turel masked his wings. Turel’s light grew brighter, more dazzling than a morning sunrise. He barked a command. “Hit’alem, Innon, I say begone.” Ian shot one more covetous glance at me and disappeared. “Holy shit.” Tim sat up and stared at us, his face dazed. I shielded my eyes with one hand as I stared at the glory of an angel revealed. Turel cupped one hand under my chin, tilting my face to meet his gaze. He kissed one of my cheeks and then the other. His expression softened as he regarded me. “Siobhan Isabella Orsini, my blessing is on you,” he intoned. How did he know my name? “My name is Turel. I am one of the Two Hundred Fallen. We are the Observers of this war. You have my blessing and my protection as foretold. May you always see true. Shalom.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I can offer my blessing and my protection over your home,” he offered. “Do you wish me to include your garden, too?” I opened my mouth, but for once, nothing came out of it. I tried again. “What?” “I say unto you, do you want me to include the garden?” Thinking of Ian in my yard earlier, I found my voice. “Yes, I need my garden protected.” Turel winked at me. “Good girl."

 

Erika is a sixth generation San Franciscan of Irish descent. She attended the University of California at Davis and completed degrees in Medieval History and Biological Sciences. A lifelong lover of books and a scribbler of many tales from a young age (her first story was completed at age five) she turned to writing full-time in 2011.   On a personal level she loves spicy food, twilight, dark chocolate (with sea salt-yum!) and nickel slots at Vegas. Erika lives for time with friends, a nice glass of red wine, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” & “Doctor Who” and good conversation. Her favorite things to do are running, cooking, reading, needlework, gardening… and of course, writing. Erika's music of choice is heavy metal. To pick her out in a lineup you should know that she is very short, fairly loud, and has dark eyebrows. The rest, as her hero Anne McCaffrey once said in her bio, “is subject to change without notice”.   Erika resides in Northern California with her incredibly hot husband, their three amazing kids, and their chocolate Labrador named Selkie. To reach Erika regarding her books, wine recommendations, or to debate which Iron Maiden album is the best (clearly, it’s Brave New World)

Links

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
 
 
Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-dragon-garden-erika-gardner-excerpt-giveaway
Like Reblog Comment
show activity (+)
text 2017-09-20 12:40
Blog Tour: Releasing Henry by Sarah Hegger with Excerpt and Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Sarah Hegger’s Releasing Henry. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


A light in the darkness . . .     The youngest son of Anglesea, the once idealistic Henry has survived the Holy Pilgrimage, but lost all his deeply held beliefs in honor and nobility. Captured in battle, he is sold as a slave into the home of Alif Al-Rasheed, a wealthy Genovese merchant who has converted to Islam. Bereft of faith, imprisoned in a foreign land, Henry has lost hope in his ability to love again—until he lays eyes on his captor’s beguiling daughter.   A marriage of opposites . . .   To Henry, Alya is a beacon of beauty he cannot ignore. But the heart of this proud daughter of Cairo will not be won so easily. Divided by religion, language, and culture, Ayla has little in common with the disillusioned Englishman—and yet he has vowed to protect her life in exchange for his freedom. As they embark on a perilous journey to safety, their bond will grow—and be tested—in ways neither can anticipate. For their greatest challenges will arise where Henry least expects. With threats conspiring to divide them, will he find the strength to stand by Ayla—and together will they find a common ground on which to build a future?

goodreads-badge-add-plus-

Buy Links

Amazon *** Apple *** B&N *** Google *** Kobo

 

A mix of dust, goat, and spices of a hundred evening cook fires infused the air. Cumin, coriander, and cinnamon twined together and made English’s mouth water. Sunset splashed the sky above Cairo in burnt orange, growing brighter closer to the fiery ball sinking behind the soaring minaret. He tried to remember the name of that mosque, but his head didn’t work like it used to. After herding a small flock of goats into their pens for the night, he ended his working day with the soft click of the latch. From the city beyond the walls came the wail of a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. “Allah is great; Allah is great.” The inner courtyard emptied as people sought their prayer mats. “I bear witness that there is no divinity but Allah.” English bore witness to no divinity, and he did not pray. At one time, in another land and to another god, he might have. Drawn to the heat the stones gathered during the day, he pressed his aching back to the wall and waited. Like him, she did not pray. The girl on the wall. He knew her name as Alya, had heard it called often enough, but to him she remained the girl on the wall. Curtains fluttered at the open doorway on the roof balcony. Here she came. For certain, she remained unaware of him concealed in the deepening shadows and watching. To be caught with his eyes on her now would mean Bahir and his whip. Still he waited, would not move from this spot until he saw her. There. A slim figure shrouded by her hijab.

The girl on the wall stopped at the parapet and faced the street. She pushed aside the niqab, which concealed all but her eyes. Then, she lifted her hijab and shook her hair free. It spilled down her back as she raised her face in a silent blessing to the day that passed. Dying sunlight rushed to pay tribute to her loveliness. Her hair dark and lustrous as the wood of the wild cherry that grew in a thicket he had once walked, her skin like crushed almonds. Not that he could see from this distance, but her eyes above her niqab were lighter than he would have expected. A mix of green and brown that he had only glimpsed in passing before she hastily lowered her head. He wouldn’t call her beautiful in the way of other women now hazy in his mind. Her chin held too firm a jut, her nose slightly hawk-like. The strong slash of her cheekbones bore testament to her mixed blood. She had a strong face, fascinating, and in her private moment on the rooftop her elemental fire drew him like a starving man to a feast. Her very essence called to that barely living part of him that remembered life in abundance. In her evening ritual, she discarded the modesty she showed during the day. She believed the rest of the household to be at prayer and in these forbidden moments before she would be called in, or admonished by the older woman who always accompanied her, English became a man again. * * * * “Come in, Alya.” Nasira beckoned from beyond the curtains. The old woman knew Alya well enough to end her prayers early and drag her back inside before anyone else saw her. Creases on Nasira’s craggy features meant another lecture on the way. As Alya reached the point on the rooftop garden where her hoarse whisper could be heard Nasira started. “You show your face like a street woman.” Nasira shook her head. “What will people think when they see you like so?” “Nobody sees me.” Alya pushed the gauzy curtains aside. A stiffening evening breeze sent them dancing around her. “I only do it when nobody else is about.” “Somebody is always about.” Grabbing a brush, Nasira motioned for Alya to sit. “Especially now.” “Why especially now?” Nasira’s tone gave Alya pause. She tried to turn and look at her. Nasira rapped her on the head with her brush. “Stay still. Your father has called for you to attend him after prayers.” “He did?” They always ate the evening meal together.

Huge frown creasing her brows, Nasira nodded. “There has been trouble, habibti. In the suq today.” Trouble in the suq hardly deserved the look of doom Nasira’s face. Trouble blew perpetually through the suq. One merchant squabbled with another, buyers quibbled over prices, and the constant thieves threaded through the place like snakes, always looking for the chance to strike. “What happened?” “I will let your father tell you, but it is bad. Bad.” Nasira lowered her head in obeisance. “Enna lillah wa enna elaihe Rajioun.” “Did someone die?” Alya swung about on the stool, wincing as Nasira’s hold on her hair tugged at the roots. “You ask too many questions.” Nasira grabbed her shoulders and turned her about again. “Your father will tell you all you need to know.” Her nurse should know better than to think she would leave it there. “But someone did die?” “Come.” Nasira bustled to her clothing and grabbed a fresh tunic. “I sent the boy for water, you must wash and attend your father.” A new tunic meant the news her father bore was weighty. She washed and dressed quickly, flinging her veil over her shoulder as she trotted out of her chamber and down the stairs to the small, inner courtyard shaded on one end, where her father and she shared their evening meals. The table lay set for their meal but her father sat beside a small pond, staring into the water. His skin was so darkened by the sun, a stranger could never tell he had not been born in this land, but had come from somewhere beyond the sea. “Alya.” Holding his hands out, he smiled and drew her forward for a kiss on both cheeks. “Nasira tells me you have been on the roof again.” “The sunset was particularly beautiful today.” She could always get around him with a bit of teasing. He smelled as he always did of silk and spices, and fruit tobacco from his hookah. Tonight, he turned from her and went back to his study of the pool. “You need to be careful, Alya.” “What happened in the suq?” Father dressed, ate, spoke, acted and even prayed as a son of this land, but he had raised her differently. Nasira warned his indulgence of her would come to no good, but Alya had always been encouraged to speak openly with her father. “A merchant was killed.” Father trailed his fingers through the water. Flashes of light glimmered beneath the surface as fish darted away from him. “A foreign merchant. He was murdered.”

“Why?” Alya sank to the low stone lip of the pond. Her father acted not as himself this evening. Dread prickled across her skin and sunk deep into her belly. “What are you not telling me?” “The tension between the local merchants and the foreigners grows worse.” With a sigh, he sat beside her and rubbed the back of his neck. “And the Sultan does nothing to aid the foreigners. What, with the same battle taking place in his palace, his hands are tied.” “But why?” “You know why?” Father looked up at her. She had her eyes from him, a mix of green and brown that marked them clearly as not from here. Alya nodded, she did know why. “The army of unbelievers.” Even now, years after the Nile had risen and forced the invaders to flee, the distrust lingered. “You must be more careful than ever.” Father captured her hand and squeezed. “Eyes are everywhere and looking for a way to discredit us.” When dripped with venom from the wrong tongue, her simple act of freedom on the walls at sunset could take on the worst of connotations. She nodded. “I will be more careful.” “Let us enjoy our dinner.” Father smiled but the worry lingered. “And then I must see Bahir.”    

 

Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble. Mimicking her globetrotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother. She currently lives in Colorado with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.

Links

 
 
 
 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!

 

 

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-releasing-henry-sarah-hegger-excerpt-giveaway
Like Reblog Comment
show activity (+)
text 2017-09-19 14:10
Release Day Blitz w/Review - Lucas

 

Lucas (Cold Fury, Book #8) Sawyer Bennett Release Date: September 19, 2017

 

 

 

Synopsis:

 

The Carolina Cold Fury hockey team is stacked with hotshots. But when a new player joins their ranks, he learns that even superstars can’t go it alone when it comes to love.

 

Lucas Fournier is only serious about one thing: hockey. The league’s fun-loving charmer, Luc is always up for a good prank or a great lay, and he has no intention of settling down. But being traded to the Carolina Cold Fury—and to play alongside his big brother, Max—is no joke. With another title in sight, the last thing Luc wants is to let his new teammates down. To succeed, Luc will need to keep his head in the game and the most . . . er, demanding member of his anatomy in check. But when temptation hits, Luc hits back harder.

 

Museum curator Stephanie Frazier has always put business before pleasure, which just about explains her nonexistent sex life. But when Stephanie meets Luc at a champagne-fueled gala, she finds herself flirting like crazy—and going home with the uninhibited athlete. For one night, she learns what passion is all about. She just never counted on the little surprise Luc leaves behind. And that’s when things really start to get . . . interesting.

 

Sawyer Bennett’s New York Times bestselling Carolina Cold Fury series can be read together or separately.

 

 Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33593824-lucas

 

Purchase Lucas (Cold Fury, Book #8):

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2r9Tz3j

B&N: http://bit.ly/2iFAUc5

iBooks: http://apple.co/2jsm0mG

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2iWNW3m

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2jcyPk1

Audible: http://adbl.co/2h7mjm6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lucas (Cold Fury Hockey, #8)Lucas by Sawyer Bennett
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is book #8, in the Cold Fury Hockey series. This book can be read as a standalone novel. To avoid spoilers, and for complete understanding of this sexy series - I recommend reading this series in order.

Stephanie is working in an interim position. At a major charity event, she meets someone who can change her whole life. If she has the courage to let him in.

Lucas meets Stephanie at an event. He is drawn to her immediately. They do not really have much in common. But neither can stay away....

This book makes me wish there are more starts to give. I really enjoyed reading this story, and it is an excellent add to the Cold Fury series. I literally laughed, while I cried reading this amazingly sexy book. I found the characters real, and very fun.


***This ARC copy was given by Netgalley and its publisher in exchange for an honest review.

View all my reviews

 

 

 

 

About the Author:

 

Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released multiple books, many of which have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists.

 

A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.

 

Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active daughter, as well as full-time servant to her adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or even better, both.

 

Sawyer also writes general and women’s fiction under the pen name S. Bennett and sweet romance under the name Juliette Poe.

 

Connect with Sawyer:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bennettbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BennettBooks

Instagram: https://instagram.com/sawyerbennett123/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Sawyer_Bennett

 

Sign up for Sawyer’s newsletter: http://sawyerbennett.com/signup/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like Reblog Comment
show activity (+)
text 2017-09-19 13:05
Blog Tour: Love Is Death by L.P. Masters with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for  L.P. Masters’s Love Is Death. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

Gina’s plan for her afterlife is simple: survive as long as possible. The afterlife is a ghost-kill-ghost kind of place. When she meets newly-dead Alec, she can’t help her desire to protect him. Before she knows it, she finds herself falling for him, despite the little voice in her head telling her it’s a bad idea. Alec’s goals don’t mesh well with Gina’s plans. Determined to save his living sister from a murderer, he’s willing to disobey the laws of a well-established cult in the afterlife. If the cult finds out, they’ll kill him. Again. He’s hesitant to accept Gina’s help and threaten her afterlife, but he’s guaranteed to fail without her. Together they embark on a perilous mission, but the most dangerous aspect of all is the threat of falling in love. Because in the afterlife... love is death.

 

goodreads-badge-add-plus-

 

 

Buy Links

 

Amazon *** Apple *** B&N *** Google *** Kobo

 

 

 

 

"Why are you doing this?" Alec asked abruptly. My breath hitched. I didn't know how to answer. The same question had plagued me since we'd left the Chinaman's warehouse. Why was I doing this? I knew the answer in my gut, but I didn't want to say it. I did anyway. "Because I don't want to see you get hurt ag…" I barely stopped myself before I said again, then wondered if he'd noticed. I frowned when it became obvious that he had, but thankfully I was turned away from him looking out the windshield. "What was that?" "I said I don't want to see you get hurt." He was quiet for a moment. "Did you say again?" The wiper blades must have swished water off the windshield at least ten times before I said anything. I tried to come up with an excuse, but I finally decided the truth would be the best option. "Yes. Again." I looked out the window. I couldn't bear to see him. "I was there when you got shot." "Yes!" His response surprised me, so I turned around in my seat to look at him. "I knew I wasn't crazy." I shrugged. "I'm not so sure about that. But how does my being there mean you're sane?" "I told Gary that I saw you before I died, and he told me it was impossible. I swore when I first met you that I'd…" His eyes glazed over as if remembering what he'd done. "I asked you for help." I forced a smile even though I desperately wanted to cry. "Begged was more like it." "But you left." I faced forward again. This was precisely the reason I hadn't wanted to tell him I was there. He didn't even realize what I'd done for him, the danger I'd put myself in to try to save him. I could have told him but I was filled with rage that I'd even tried, and filled with guilt that I had failed. "I'm sorry." Alec sat forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. Like every time he touched me, I felt that incredible heat rushing down my arm and into my core. He shook his head. "I'm not mad at you. In fact, knowing what I know now, I'm glad you left." I held my breath to keep myself from saying anything. I wanted to tell him I hadn't left, but at the same time, I was determined not to.

 

 

 

 

 

Born and raised in the rainy streets of the Seattle Area, L.P. Masters spent her fair share of time staring out rain-streaked windows and writing books. Masters has always had extremely vivid dreams, which often spark inspiration for her novels. In 1999, after one such dream, Masters began her first writing project. She has participated in National Novel Writer's Month every November since 2010. Writing isn't the only thing she can do with a pen in her hand, she also enjoys sketching and drawing—with varying degrees of success. Masters now lives in the slightly-less-dreary city of Spokane Washington with her husband and two wonderful daughters.

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Amazon *** Goodreads

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-love-death-l-p-masters-excerpt-giveaway
More posts
Your Dashboard view:
Need help?