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review 2017-04-23 08:00
Blog Tour for Lie To Me by Jess Ryder: My Review
Lie to Me: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist - Jess Ryder

How can you tell the truth... if all you've ever known is a lie?

Three minutes. That’s all it takes for Meredith’s entire world to fall apart when she watches the videotape of her four-year-old self with Becca, the mother who abandoned her.

Meredith can’t believe what her eyes have seen. Yet what if her memory has locked away the painful reality of her childhood? Can there be any truth in the strange and dangerous story her mother forced her to tell on camera? 

The search for answers leads Meredith to Darkwater Pool, the scene of the murder of a young woman, Cara, over 30 years ago. What could possibly be the link between her mother and the victim?

To find the truth Meredith must search through a past that is not her own. The problem is, she’s not the only one looking…

A dark, compulsive psychological thriller that will keep you up all night. Perfect for fans of Paula Hawkins and Louise Jensen.

 

My Review:

Lie to Me is a tale told from three different perspectives, with the narrator of each chapter named to avoid any possible confusion. As Meredith tries to uncover more about her mother Becca, following her discovery of the video tape in the present time; we also hear  from Cara, the Darkwater Pool murder victim from thirty years ago. We also hear from Christopher Jay, who was Cara's boyfriend at the time of her murder. All this information throws up threads linking the characters together and twists here and there. It was unusual to have the perspective of a murder victim, and I found it interesting getting to know her and find out more about her life and what happened leading up to her death.

 

There are more than a couple of red herrings here and there and a few twists, but among all the death and lies, Meredith's relationship with her lovely father Graeme shines through. It's a welcome relief! The appearance of the fabulous Isobel is great too. I enjoyed the second half of the book much more and it became much harder to put down. For a debut, this is a very readable novel and one I'd recommend to my fellow crime readers. I'm looking forward to seeing what Jess Ryder comes up with next!

 

Special thanks to Bookouture, Jess Ryder and Netgalley for providing an ARC in return for my unbiased review.

 

Lie To Me - Buy it here:-

UK 

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text 2017-04-21 13:10
Blog Tour Stop for Puppy Love by Kelly Moran with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Kelly Moran’s Puppy Love. 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 :) 

 


AbtheB

 

 

 

 

After a passionless marriage under the scrutiny of high society, Avery Stowe is taking back her life. All she wants is a little privacy and a quiet place to raise her autistic daughter, Hailey. Redwood Ridge, Oregon, seems to offer all the right ingredients. Except for the problem of the local sexy veterinarian. The last thing she needs in her life is to fall for his irresistible allure, even if he is a nice guy who keeps doing her favors. But the well-meaning patrons of her new hometown have other ideas, and it appears playing Cupid is one of them.

Cade O’Grady has never met a woman he couldn't handle, but when Avery Stowe walks into his office late one night cradling an injured puppy, he’s struck stupid. Which might explain her total lack of interest in him. But now that she’s working for his family’s clinic, he doesn't have to lust from a distance. He might just have a chance at convincing Avery—and her too-guarded heart—that falling for the right man isn't a mistake . . .

 

 

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Excer

 

 

Finished with a round of patients, he headed up front where Aunt Rosa was reading a romance book and Avery was typing away on the computer. “Whatcha doing now?”

Avery didn’t glance up from the screen. “Making a supply list in Excel.”

Hell. Why was that hot? She wasn’t his usual type.

Okay, to be honest, any female with too many brain cells wasn’t his type. It wasn’t out of a sense of shallowness he sought that variety, but preservation. Until he found someone who made his heart beat like Heather used to do for Drake, he’d stick with superficial. No point in getting hurt or hurting someone else. But ever since Heather died, Cade tried less and less to settle down or find that person. He was aware of it, aware he was doing it, and damn if he ever questioned his actions until now. People rarely recovered from that kind of love. Why search for it?

Perhaps it was Avery’s long legs in those black leggings, or her pink sweater the same shade as her cheeks when she blushed, or her brown hair—more chestnut really in the sun—piled on top of her head and held in place with a pencil that seized his interest. He bit back a sigh. Nope. It was her brain, her humor, and her strength.

Hot.

Aunt Rosa glanced at him over the top of her book, a knowing smirk on her face.

Busted.

“A supply list?” Bully for him. His voice sounded normal. He still had no freaking clue why, but if he wasn’t bumbling like a moron around Avery, he was saying moronic things. Where the hell was his swagger?

“Mmhm.” Type. “So we don’t over order things or run out. Gabby and Brent can just check off what they need and I can order from the supplier.” Type, type. “Did you know you had ten cases of cat litter? Insane.”

He scratched his jaw. “Uh. No.”

“Putting Zoe’s stuff on here, too. Her shampoos and whatnot for grooming.” Type.

“She’s making a supply list,” Rosa beamed, waving her hand like this was an epiphany. I told you I’m all-wise. I hired her!

Cade frowned at his aunt. She’d been the office manager, for Christ’s sake. She should’ve been doing this.

Flynn came up to the desk and tapped Avery’s shoulder. “Have you seen my backup bag? Gabby and I need to head out to Miller’s farm.”

Avery nodded. “In the supply room, stocked for you. Your new bag should be here Monday.”

At Cade’s questioning glance, Flynn signed, “A goat chewed my other one when Gabby was busy chasing a barn cat.”

And this was why he wasn’t the house call vet.

Flynn tapped Avery’s shoulder to get her attention again. “Marry me?”

She laughed. “Not today, but you’re welcome. Shoo, now.”

What. The. Hell.

As if sensing Cade’s thought train and derailing it, Avery said, “He asks me to marry him daily. Hourly, depending on what I’ve done.” Type, type. “Relax, Dr. Cade. He’s joking. Besides, I don’t do office romance.” Right, Flynn? she signed.

Flynn grinned, the asshole, and strode into his office, only to emerge moments later with Gabby and his travel bag.

Cade flipped him off behind Avery’s back as he was walking out the door.

“Saw that.” Type.

Of course she did. All moms had eyes in the backs of their heads. And that was the other thing. She had a kid. Not that he didn’t like kids. He did. Maybe even wanted a couple of his own someday. But it wasn’t just one person involved when dating someone like Avery. It was two.

And they weren’t dating. Not even a little. He hadn’t asked her out and, aside from that first day when her gaze had shown interest, she’d seemed immune to him.

That hadn’t happened in…ever. He found it oddly refreshing.

With Flynn and Gabby gone, Cade glanced around. “Where’s She-rah?” The cat was usually perched on top of the printer, plotting world domination.

“Avery put her on time-out. She’s in the back room.” Rosa’s grin grew to oh shit size, and he figured his aunt had read all his previous thoughts. Like a Vulcan mind meld. Which was never a good thing.

Wait. A time-out? He looked at Avery. “You put a cat on time-out?” He didn’t know whether that was cute or genius.

Avery never stopped typing, which was beginning to infuriate him. “Yes, she was scaring Thor.”

Cade looked down, just noticing Thor’s head in Avery’s lap from the other side of her chair. The Great Dane looked at him as if to say, Neener, neener. “Dust bunnies scare that dog.”

“Well, the cat needs manners. Plus, Thor and I are working on his courage. Aren’t we, boy?”

Thor barked. And not in fear. Yes, my liege.

 

 

Abouttheauth

 

 

Bestselling author Kelly Moran says she gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her and there’s always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself, and no one is safe from becoming her next fictional character. She is a Catherine Award-Winner, Readers Choice Finalist, Holt Medallion Finalist, and earned one of the 10 Best Reads by USA Today's HEA. She is also a Romance Writers of America member. Her interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet caffeine junkie and chocoholic, but don’t tell anyone. She resides in Wisconsin with her husband, three sons, and two dogs. Most of her family lives in the Carolinas, so she spends a lot of time there as well. She loves hearing from her readers.

 

Links

 

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

 

 

GA

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

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apr 12- kickoff at The Silver Dagger Scriptorium

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apr 13- Books and Spoons – REVIEW

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apr 18- Angels With Attitude Book Reviews

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may 8- Sapphyria's Book Reviews

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may 9- Romantic Reads and Such

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may 10- Celticlady's Reviews

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may 11- Mello & June

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may 12- Laurie's Thoughts and Reviews

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Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-stop-puppy-love-kelly-moran-excerpt-giveaway
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text 2017-04-21 13:06
Blog Tour Stop for Blade Bound by Chloe Neill with Interview, Review and Two Giveaways

 

 

Today’s stop is for Chloe Neill’s final book in the Chicagoland Vampire series, Blade Bound. We will have info about the book and author. A great interview with Chloe, my review of Blade Bound. As well as two giveaways. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaways.

 

Happy Reading :) 


AbtheB

 

 

The thrilling final installment of Chloe Neill’s New York Times bestselling urban fantasy series sees a sinister sorcery advancing across Chicago, and it may usher in the fall of Cadogan House…

Since the night of her brutal attack and unwilling transformation to vampire, Merit’s stood as Sentinel and protector of Chicago’s Cadogan House. She's saved the Windy City from the forces of darkness time and again with her liege and lover, Ethan Sullivan, by her side.

When the House is infiltrated and Merit is attacked by a vampire seemingly under the sway of dark magic, Merit and Ethan realize the danger is closer than they could have ever imagined. As a malign sorcery spreads throughout the city, Merit must go to war against supernatural powers beyond her comprehension. It’s her last chance to save everything—and everyone—she loves.

 

 

 

Will be available April 25th 2017

 

 

 

 

AuthoInt


     What will you miss the most about the Chicagoland Vampire series and characters?

I'll miss Merit and Ethan the most, because their voices are so clear for me.  Merit and I have so much in common, but
she's also a very different person with very different hopes and fears. Ethan is so arrogant, but so protective of his
people. I feel very honored to have known them both.

     Will we see them again in the crossover series?

No spoilers! :) But check the back of BLADE BOUND for the spinoff announcement!

     If optioned to film. What would you prefer a TV series or your books or movies?

I think a TV series would fit the characters and recurring jokes better, but I wouldn't say no to either option. I'd love to
see someone's version of Merit on the big or little screen!

      If you could co-write a book or series with any author, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

JD Robb (Nora Roberts), without a doubt. Her IN DEATH series is my all-time favorite. I love the characters so much.

Thanks for having me today!

 

 

Rview

 

 

OMG. This is it folks. This is the FINAL book of the Chicagoland Vampire series and I must say it is bittersweet. There were some books where I wasn’t sure if I gonna stick with the series but in the end I did and I’m glad that I did.

It was an overall enjoyable ride with Merit and Ethan. I always find it hard to review the final book of a series and this is no different in this case. Anyway, I will try to make it short and sweet without giving anything away and without only reviewing just end of the series, if that makes any sense.

 

 

The book starts in full prep of the wedding and what may or may not be in stall for our beloved characters. The wedding is actually happening even with some killer security all over the place since it is kind of a big deal not only for Methan but for Chicago as well. I have to say that the wedding, which includes the bridal shower, dress, reception and the whole thing was just beautiful and fit for Merit. It had Merit and Ethan written all over it while still catering to Chicago and of course her parents.

Of course it doesn’t take long before Chaos breaks out and Chicago is once, more in danger. Methan and gang are of course right in the middle and willing to help, but not everything goes smooth and they once again end up being the target for humans. It gets so bad that the humans including the Mayor are ready to hand over not only Merit, but also Mallory to end the whole thing. Of course that doesn’t go over well with neither Ethan nor Catcher.

We see almost everyone and all supernatural races throughout the book once to help or at least they are mentioned to what happened to them. That includes the Fae , the council of vampires , the pack of shifters and of course the Order, plus some others.

I wish we would have seen more of Gabriel and his pack given he was a big part of the series and let’s not forget the prophecy her foresaw but overall it was okay.

In the end the of course defeat the “big bad” with the help of not only the order but also the RG.I liked how everyone came together in the end to figure it out and fight.

Merit in this book was a bit more, hmmmmm sad maybe…… she kind of grieved for things she couldn’t have or may or may not have in the future. But in the end she picker herself up and knew what to do. I liked how while kind of sad she was still super happy with Ethan and being married to him, it was odd seeing her married but it really fit her. Of course she kicks butt in this book, just like all the previous book and I don’t think there is much that can take her down. It is kind of hard believe that it has only been a little over a year for her since her journey as a vampire began. But she came very far and I was happy for her outcome.

Ethan, well it was no secret that most the books I was either not sure about him or didn’t like him. Only the last few books had I started to like him. Well Ethan managed to finally win me over with this book. I really like him in this book for what he did and the way he handled things. Not only with Merit but also people, vampires and humans alike. He became funnier with each book as well I guess more relaxed. It was nice to see him that way funny, relaxed, but still very alpha and protective. He came a long way from the stiff vampire who ate a hotdog with fork and knife and had very little humor that we met in book one. Oh and we finally learn the nickname he has for Merit and it actually is really fitting.

Mallory and Catcher were a big part of this book and a big part of solving the problem but I think what came over most was the friendship between the four of them and of course between  Merit and Malory . At one point in the series I wasn’t sure if I ever could forgive Mallory but I really think I can and did. She did some truly bad things and it took time to heal for everyone but in the end it all worked out. 

I always liked Catcher and what he stood for and I liked his relationship with Mallory I don’t think there could have been anyone else for them. They were perfect for each other and balanced each other out greatly even or more so after everything that went down throughout the series.

Okay, now to some thoughts of the overall ending of the series, it will be spoiler free.

Most things in the series will be tight up by the end of the book, what happened to some of the supernatural races or other little things, some things were either not mentioned or just left hanging. Some characters that were in previous books and are still very much alive are not even mentioned which was kind of disappointing but I can understand that not everything can be included sometimes. They were not major characters or storylines so it was not so bad.

Thing with the AAM and the RG are mentioned and some things are solved. The RG thing, well not sure about that it was almost too neat and easy, and if that case could have been solved like that a few books ago. It kind of made no sense.

Now to the prophecy that we been hearing about for forever………. I liked the outcome but again it was a bit too easy again……. I saw it coming that way at a certain point at the book it was predicable (in this book) and kind of a cop out I thought, At least for something so big we been waiting for almost the entire series. There were also some minor issues I had with but don’t want to mention or I would spoil some and really it was nothing big anyways.

I heard that there is supposed to be a spin off series but to be honest I have not checked of it has been announced about who and where. But I think I have some ideas after this books.

Overall I thought it was a great ending to a great series, while it had it lows it many more highs and I enjoyed this book and series. I really will miss Methan and the gang.

I rate the book 4★. The series I guess would be a 3 ½★ - 4 ★

 

Some of my favorite Quotes

 

Luc saluted. “Sire.” He glanced at me, grinned. “Mrs. Sire.”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m going to nope that one right there.”

***

“I hope to God that is Chris Pratt riding a velociraptor.”

***

“Happy Darth Sullivan Eve.”

***

“I am your husband, and your friends, and you lover. And I am also a soldier. I am a vampire. I am monster, in no small part.” The Emerald shifted, transmuted to quicksilver- one element battling another. “And if I must show them in that order ti protect you, I will. Should it come to that, God have mercy on their souls. Because I will have none.”

***

Luc saluted. “Sire.” He glanced at me, grinned. “Mrs. Sire.”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m going to nope that one right there.”

***

“I hope to God that is Chris Pratt riding a velociraptor.”

***

“Happy Darth Sullivan Eve.”

***

“I am your husband, and your friends, and you lover. And I am also a soldier. I am a vampire. I am monster, in no small part.” The Emerald shifted, transmuted to quicksilver- one element battling another. “And if I must show them in that order ti protect you, I will. Should it come to that, God have mercy on their souls. Because I will have none.”

***

 

 

 

 

Abouttheauth

 

 

 

 

Chloe Neill is the New York Times bestselling author of the Chicagoland Vampires Novels, the Devil's Isle Novels, and a YA series, the Dark Elite. Chloe was born and raised in the South, but now makes her home in the Midwest. When she's not writing, she bakes, works, and scours the Internet for good recipes and great graphic design. Chloe also maintains her sanity by spending time with her boys--her husband and their dogs, Baxter and Scout.

 

Links 

 

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

 

 

GA

 

Like I mentioned above there are TWO giveaways. One which is the Grand Prize Giveaway will be on Chloe’s site.

 

The prizes for that are:

 

Engraved Cadogan House medal pendant

Signed 11×16 Merit poster

$50 Amazon gift card

$50 Garrett Popcorn Gift Card (Chicago’s hometown favorite!)

Tote bag containing Chicagoland Vampires and Devil’s Isle Swag

 

 

 You can enter for it on Chloe’s Site

 

here.

 

The second giveaways prizes are

 

 Signed, limited edition, 8.5 x11 Merit posters

A Cadogan House lanyard

A Cadogan House tote bag

Cadogan House seal sticker

Bookmarks

 

 You can enter the second giveaway right here with the Rafflecopter below.

Good luck on both giveaways :) 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Snoopydoo sigi

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-stop-blade-boundb-chloe-neill-interview-review-two-giveaways
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text 2017-04-20 13:05
Blog Tour Stop for Dr. Vampyre by S.N. McKibben with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for S.N. McKibben’s Dr. Vampyre. 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 :) 

 


 

AbtheB

 

 

 

When a college professor is blackmailed by a student … … he has to walk the fine line of being true to his principles and not letting his bloody secret out. Dr. John Tennison, professor and physician, wakes up every morning and counts his spoons—a measure of how many tasks he feels he can accomplish during his day. One spoon to walk down the stairs, one spoon to teach a class, one spoon to deal with tardy students. Lupus limits him, but he still gives lectures and works at a hospital. He also makes time for friends, and once a week visits Sanguine Loon’s to sate—or subvert—his one strange desire. His nemesis, the one thing besides lupus that keeps him from leading a normal life, is the blood at the bottom of a little paper Dixie cup. While Tennison’s blood-drinking habit is a secret, it’s well known that he’s the campus asshole and has no tolerance for students who show up late. When he kicks Vogue model Ylati Badashi out of his lecture hall for wandering in ten minutes late, she’s having none of it. She pouts, she seduces, she blackmails, and puts Tennison at odds with his butler, and finally she tells him the truth about why she needs to be in his class. Tennison is a man of principles, and though he swears he won’t change his mind, he starts to react unexpectedly to Ylati even as he hates her for making him suspicious of his trusted butler. Tennison has to find out where Mitch goes on his nights off and must deal with a budding attraction to a woman he occasionally hates, all while learning new secrets about himself. It’s going to take a lot of spoons. Scroll up and help the doctor count his spoons!

 

 

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Buy Link

 

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Excer

 

 

Today, I woke up with nineteen spoons instead of twenty-two. Not literal spoons—figurative. I don’t go to bed placing utensils on my face or twirl the family silver from my extremities. Such behavior would insult my Mensa-acceptable 133 IQ. The spoon theory is a fellow sufferer’s explanation of what it’s like to live with lupus. Spoons represent how much energy I have before I begin to deteriorate, and I am grateful to each and every one of them. Every spoon I wake up with means I can do that many tasks. Tasks like walking down the stairs, teaching my class, seeing patients. The type of things others take for granted. When my students in the blood cell biology class at the University of Southern California inquire about my condition, I describe lupus as a life-sucking force in which you have to constantly balance your time and energy against the downhill spiral of lethargy and pain. My explanation usually stops anyone from asking more questions. As if not talking about my condition will make the disease go away. The pain used to anger me. Succumbing to a body that jails my actions is a study in humiliation. Worse is knowing lupus affects more women than it does men. Some call it a woman’s disease. Being a man, you might think that is what bothers me. What bothers me is I don’t like to see women in pain. Knowing what they are going through helps me as a doctor, but as a man, it doesn’t help my psyche. You see why I strive for a logical life. Emotion takes so much energy that it’s better not to feel. In fact, suppressing any emotion is key to my success. It doesn’t stop the pain lupus gives me. Nothing stops the pain except one unnatural addiction, and that only for a brief moment. So with my shield of apathy and my sword of cynicism, I venture forth into the morning to heal and teach as a doctor and professor. You’d think I would slow down or take it easy today knowing that I’ve already begun without my usual amount of spoons, but today is the first day of a new semester and I won’t be late. Never, in my nine years of teaching, have I ever been late. Besides, I can’t let those beemer brats wreak havoc in my lecture hall, now can I? The one indulgence that would solve my lethargy problems flits through my brain. I resolve to shove that thought out. Anything not normal, right now, is not in the plan. *** I stroll into my lecture hall at exactly nine fifty a.m. and the whispers stop. Old and new faces attentively follow my shuffle as I round my desk to the dry erase board at the front of the room. I pick up a marker that could make any fifth grader swear off glue and write Dr. Tennison - Blood cell biology. Thankfully, the counselors and older co-eds let it be known that I am “a real dick” and have an aversion to those who are not on time. So, I rolled my eyes when at ten minutes after ten, she of the model-thin body, sporting six-inch stilettos, tight jeans, and a frou-frou blouse, walked in. “Ms. Tardy, don‘t bother.” She gave me the oh-gosh-I’m-really-sorry face. “Are there any more seats?” “Not for you. Please, don’t waste our time. I don’t take add-ons.” I reached under my desk for the medical book I would use to assist in today’s lecture. “But, I registered for the class.” Ms. Tardy pouted. “I don’t care. You’re late. No more room. Get out.” The slam of the thousand-page medical dictionary I tossed on my desk should have been enough articulation in my statement for her to leave. “I got here as soon as I could!” Her whine climbed the scale into annoyance territory. “Which is not good enough. You’re done.” I pointed at the door. “Get out.” “Oh come on. What could I have missed in five minutes?” “The point . . .” I flashed my Rolex from under my sleeve and checked the time. “. . . And it’s been twelve minutes.” “That’s not fair!” “What would not be fair is to make a pulmonary patient, lying open on the table, wait twelve life-or-death minutes for a replacement valve. I’m here to teach. One of those lessons I wish to instill is an appreciation for the value of time.” Ms. Tardy stood there in her tight jeans and pursed lips with a hand on her hip. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. ”You can go now.” I waved a hand in a sweeping motion. “There isn’t room for you anyway.” There were seats in the back, but she looked like a front-of-the-class, I-want-all-the-attention kind of girl. “But I pre-registered.” She used her hands for emphasis and struck a classic pose that probably got her into any club or out of any trouble she came up against. Snorting out my disgust, a glimmer of recognition hit me and I looked harder at Ms. Tardy. This face before me belonged to Ylati Badashi, the recently “retired” model, and her million dollar Vogue body was in my lecture hall. She must have taken my fluster of disdain for admiration, because her supposedly non-collagen-filled lips curved. But it was that I-have-you-now twinkle in her eye that jostled loose my wrath. I whisked my walking cane from under my desk. Quick as a turtle in sand, I advanced on her with my geriatric, cane-wielding old man shtick, trying to scare her off my lawn. The fear in her eyes fueled my words. “Get out of my hall!” I was seething by the time she turned tail and bolted out of the room. She looked like a shackled cat running from the spray of a hose. The image brought tears of laughter to my eyes. It had been a while since I’d laughed that hard. I’m sure my students never see me so much as smile. Even though I knew the price for expressing my emotion would cost me another spoon and wreak havoc on me later, I couldn’t help the satisfied feeling of living up to my so earned title among the students, Dr. Asshole. “Dr. Tennison, are you alright?” One of my more faithful students, Ms. Phillips, actually sounded concerned. I returned to my drab demeanor, leaned heavily on my cane, and grunted an acknowledgment to the third-year co-ed. My physical display allowed the monster of lupus inside me to seek retribution and sap away my energy. Disgruntled for wasting precious vitality on a fritter of a person, I forced down my angry self-reprimand. There was no use getting angry over getting angry. I resumed my emotionless state and taught as I have for the past nine years—with ruthless abandon. No whining, no excuses, and if you’re late, you fail. If you can’t beat my turtle-ass to class, you’re wasting my time, your time, and everybody else’s time. *** After teaching all day, I was down to thirteen spoons. Three spent starting my day: one for teaching class, one for each trip walking to the car, and one for the gallant ass-chewing I gave to Ms. Tardy. When I get down to five spoons, it’s time to think about calling it a day, but I wasn’t there yet. Mitch, my butler and savior for most my life, picked me up in the blue BMW Alpina. I have never had the privilege of driving it. The DMV denied me a license because of my condition. I did have the honor of paying for it. If you were to ask me, Mitch had a damn nice car to chauffeur me around in. I called Mitch not only my savior, but also jokingly, my wife. Without him, my life would be impossible. He cooked my food, did my laundry, dropped off and picked up the dry cleaning, scrubbed the house to the point of peeling off paint, scheduled my day, tidied the yard, took some phone calls for me, and made sure I take my medication. I did stop him from wiping my ass—occasionally. Okay, so I’m joking about the last part. He doesn’t wipe my ass, but what unmarried guy in his thirties is going to deny the rest? If sex weren’t involved, I’d marry him. Sure, he’s an adorable thirty-nine year old in a small stout package with dark hair and soft dark eyes, but that’s not how I roll. I’m pretty sure that’s not how he rolls, either. Off we go to the medical center with Mitch at the wheel and me in the back seat orienting myself with the next class session. Mitch is quite the chatty type, but I’ve learned to drown him out as any good husband would do. Routinely, after the days I teach, he drops me at the hospital where I work. My assistant nurse, Mary, is the old battle ram of the team—wise enough to tell patients to be here an hour early, kind enough to be the matron of compassion, knowledgeable enough to know what to do if ever I seize from pain. She leads me to the five-minute staff review and then my first patient of the day. I’m handed a clipboard and being a doctor, I read the case symptoms first. Yes, it’s bad to look at what’s wrong with the person before looking at the name, but we all do it. I wish I had looked at the name before I walked in the patient room, but it was too late to walk the other way when I opened the door. “Ms. Badashi.” Smooth as a virgin dry-erase board, I did not give away one iota of the seething hate boiling through my veins to Ms. Tardy. “It says here you have all the symptoms of river blindness. What would you prescribe yourself?” “Ivermectin.” The big brown eyed lost puppy look of hers could have cracked a walnut. That’s when the pain behind my right eye surged. Was the eye torture from her annoyingly correct answer, or lupus? I couldn’t tell. “Do you have river blindness?” “Please let me into your class.” The audacity! “Am I to believe that my staff bumped you to my first patient when there are real people in need of my services?” “Hey!” She actually looked put out. “I am a real person. I am in need of your services!” Again she was wasting my time. You’re late, you fail. “You, young lady, are a fraud. Get out of my office.” I pressed a palm against my pounding eye. It relieved some of the pressure. Her whining made my eye worse. “What I need is for you to teach me Blood cell biology.” “Why me?” I said more to myself than to anyone else. “Because you’re the best.” Mitch says flattery will get you anywhere. Yes, there is appeal to being called the best. My ego did flutter a little, but not enough to forgive her cardinal sin number one. With my one hand still pushing back my right eye, my index finger pointed at the door—hard to do with a clipboard still in my hand. “Out!” She leaned forward; just enough so her frou-frou top’s fringes hung lose. “I’d do anything to get into your class.” “Anything?” I smiled and suggestively touched my chest. I did not fail to notice the pink bra she had on. She nodded and accentuated, “Anything.” “Sign up next semester and be early.” I threw the clipboard on the counter and tried to slam the door on my way out. Too bad hospital doors didn’t slam. Amazing how my eye felt better after I left her sitting there, but dealing with her cost me yet another spoon. I had eleven spoons left and I needed to get through the rest of my five-spoon work day. Fortunately, I didn’t see her again. I figured that was that. Mitch picked me up from work at six o’clock. He mentioned Puzo, the dean of students, called. Randolph Puzo is a good man. Works hard, cared about the students, and had gone to bat for me in front of the board about my special condition. He’s the kind of guy you wanted on your team because he did anything to get the job done right. “John, how are you?” Randolph’s voice came through my iPhone as clear and crisp as a new Benjamin. “I’m fairing well. What can I do for you?” Now, Randolph knows I can’t waste energy on chit-chat, and being the good man that he is, he gets to the point. “John, I have a student that says you chased her out of the lecture hall.” “Ah, Ms. Badashi. I was afraid she’d fall in those stilettos for the vertically challenged.” “John,” Randolph chuckled, though I was quite serious, “can you please let her into the class?” It’s tough and unpopular to be a hardnose, but principles are principles and I refuse to compromise. “She was late, Puzo.” “It was the first day of the semester.” “All my other students arrived early. Even before I did.” His comment was barely audible. “They got the asshole alert.” “Excuse me?” To Randolph’s credit, he was as gracious as he always is. “Mr. Tennison, I would greatly appreciate it if you forgave this one transgression and allowed an eager student access to your lectures.” I should’ve been grateful to Randolph. He’d done so much for me. If I couldn’t make it to class, he would cover for me. He makes sure my lecture hall is the closest to the parking lot. I never had to move desks, books or arrange my classroom during the off season. He’s probably going to catch hell for me denying a student what seems like her dying wish. But when I thought about her suggestive comment, thinking her womanly guiles would work on me, my temper rose to boiling. “Mr. Puzo, I abide by the school’s program, requirements, curriculum, and every rule and regulation your fine institution implements. Please abide by mine.” I hung up and thought the next call would be a request for my resignation. Mitch eyed me briefly from the rearview mirror as he was driving. “Sounds like women troubles.” “Student issues,” I corrected. I wished he wouldn’t call them “women troubles,” as he knew I never had so much as a girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been promiscuous. I went to college. Don’t think that lupus affects one’s sex drive, because it doesn’t. I just never had time or the energy to have a steady girl. “Tim called. Said he’d come to collect you at seven.” I only had six spoons left for the rest of the night. But I know what Tim would say if I tried to get out of going with him tonight. Just come with us to Loon’s and have a shot and you’ll be fine. Tim wasn’t the type to let me break routine. The schedule never did me wrong. I had a good life, just a limited one. I sighed and rubbed my temples. How could I deny my best friend since high school? If I didn’t go with him, he’d take every opportunity and every one of his ambulance-driving skills to annoy the fuck out of me at work the next day. Anastasia, fellow lupus sufferer and Tim’s girlfriend, would call me relentlessly and whine in my ear all night. Ever since I can remember, Wednesday nights belonged to the three of us. It’s hard to break tradition. By six forty-five, I sat ready in the kitchen of my two-story house. Tim usually managed to get Anastasia dressed and ready to go out almost on time. His secret was telling her they had to be there half an hour beforehand. I could have waited upstairs lying down, but going up and down the stairs costs me a spoon. I should have moved to a one-story house, but I’d never sell this home. I’d never be able to replace childhood memories and nostalgia. Mitch was wiping down the swirled-granite counters while I sat at the four-seat mahogany dining set. His time off was Wednesday night and all of Sunday, fitting perfectly with my schedule. Wednesday I went out with my friends while Mitch went—wherever he went, and on Sunday he left after breakfast and returned on Monday before dawn. But he always made sure I was in safe hands or he could be reached by cell phone before leaving. I looked at the hundred-year-old Simplex grandfather clock that hung at the opposite end of the entryway to the kitchen. The hands read seven-o-five. My fingers drummed on the table as I counted every second that ticked away. From outside, the sound of Bach booming from distorted speakers was a sure sign Tim’s Tercel was speeding to my driveway. Mitch raised his head and folded his towel. “Ah, well, here they are.” We both sauntered out of the kitchen to the rap of Tim’s knuckles on the glass of the window. Mitch grabbed his overnight bag, opened the door, and nodded a greeting to Tim. I scowled and pointed at my Rolex. Like me, Tim was white bread. But where I had brown hair, he had jet black. I wasn’t as pale as he was, though he tended to stay out of the sun like me. He wore lots of brown and brass and occasionally topped all that splendor with some hat bearing mechanical constructions. Opposed to my daily suit and tie tonight, I lost the jacket and noose, but my slacks were pressed and my button-down collar was appropriate for where we were going. Tim smiled nervously. He lived up to his nickname of “Jackrabbit,” bouncing on the balls of his feet. Heavy eyeliner accentuated his shocking blue eyes, which pleaded forgiveness. “You know Anastasia.” I gruffed at Tim and waved at Mitch. I always told Mitch he could take the car, but he insisted on taking the bus. Public transportation was a block away and he never seemed to mind. I didn’t argue. It would have been an exercise in futility as “he was always right.” Just like asking him where he went on Wednesday and Sundays, it was pointless to ask. I stopped wondering where he spent his time off long ago. Tim bounded to his four-door Tercel and opened the back passenger door for me with a flourish. Anastasia hung over the open window of the front passenger seat. Hourglass figure, impressive chest, thin lips, a strong nose combined with Bette Davis eyes set wide on a heart-shaped face—Anastasia was beautiful. Though I couldn’t understand why a natural redhead dyed her hair auburn. Probably to reap as much attention as possible from her cardinal red strands. Most men would lie down just for the pleasure of saying she stepped on them. But she was as crazy as monkey-flung feces. I had no idea how Tim puts up with her. “Hi, John.” Anastasia greeted me with a breathy smile and hungry eyes. I smiled, took her hand, and kissed it lightly. “Good evening, Anastasia.” She giggled and swatted her free hand on Tim’s butt. “How come you aren’t so charming?” Tim pivoted around and gingerly took my hand, mimicked my knuckle-kissing gesture and nailed my professor voice perfectly, “John, how lovely to see you. Won’t you please get your ass in the car?” “Whatever, Jackrabbit.” I said, climbing into the trusty Tercel. I noted that I was down to five spoons and was leaving the house. But it was unlikely we’ll be out too late.

 

 

Abouttheauth

 

 

 

Slave to a 100 lbs. GSD (German Shepard) and a computer she calls "Dave", you'll often see her riding a 19 hand Shire nicknamed "Gunny" to the local coffee shop near the Santa Monica mountains. Stephanie reads for the love of words, and writes fiction about Dark Hearts and Heroes revolving around social taboos. When ever asked, she'll reply her whole life can be seen through a comic strip ~ sometimes twisted, sometimes funny but always beautiful and its title is adventure. Come play!

 

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text 2017-04-19 13:05
Blog Tour Stop for the Crow City Series by Cole McCade with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Cole McCade’s Crow City Series. We will have info about the books 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 :) 


 

AbtheB

The Lost

Crow City #1

 

 
The first book in the new Cole McCade: After Dark erotica imprint; a darkly haunting erotica with the taboo appeal of V.C. Andrews.
"If the romantic character study is a genre, this fascinating contemporary novel is its exemplar." - Publishers Weekly
There's something wrong with Leigh.
She's known it her whole life. She knows it every time she spreads her legs. Every time she begs for the pain, the pleasure, the heat of a hard man driving deep inside. She's a slave to her own twisted lusts--and it's eating her alive. She loves it. She craves it. Sex is her drug, and she's always chasing her next fix. But nothing can satisfy her addiction, not even the nameless men she uses and tosses aside. No one's ever given her what she truly needs.
Until Gabriel Hart.
Cold. Controlled. Impenetrable. Ex-Marine Gabriel Hart isn't the kind of man to come running when Leigh crooks her pretty little finger. She loathes him. She hungers for him. He's the only one who understands how broken she is, and just what it takes to satisfy the emptiness inside. But Gabriel won't settle for just one night. He wants to claim her, keep her, make her forever his. Together they are the lost, the ruined, the darkness at the heart of Crow City.
But Leigh has a darkness of her own. A predator stalking through her past--one she'll do anything to escape.
Even if it means running from the one man who could love her...and leaving behind something more precious to her than life itself.
 

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The Fallen

Crow City 1.5

 

 
Reconnect with Gabriel, Gary, Maxi, and Crow City in this companion novella telling the story of THE LOST‘s Gabriel Hart before Leigh entered his life – and get a sneak preview of the sinister Priest, hero of THE FOUND.
Gabriel Hart is a broken man.
And everyone close to him dies.
His military unit. His sister. His parents. Everyone he’s come to care for has been taken from him, leaving him with nothing but a crippling war injury, a Vicodin addiction, and a scraggly, chewed-up rag of a cat. It’s enough to make anyone want to check out. And when he holds his service pistol in his hand and presses it against his temple, for the first time in a long time the world feels right.
But he’s not as alone as he thinks. And when grizzled bar owner Gary challenges him to honor his sister’s memory by repairing her houseboat before he gives up on life, he discovers she left more for him than her belongings. And her letters lead him on a trail through discovering himself, discovering what he truly wants…and discovering that he has the strength to choose his own path.
 

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The Found

Crow City #2

 

 

Witness to a murder. Kidnapped by a monster. Life hanging on a whim. Willow Armitage’s world was already falling apart; between getting fired and caring for her chronically ill father, she’s had little room for anything but survival. But that survival hangs in the balance the night she stumbles into a back alley – and watches a stranger die at the hands of the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

 

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The Saved

Crow City #2.5

 

 
For it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul. – Leviticus 17:11
Before he was a mysterious, silent killer stalking the streets of Crow City, the strange man known as Priest (THE FOUND, Crow City #2) was a lost and broken soul—and part of Willow Armitage’s world in ways she could never have imagined. Shattered by the Afghanistan War, left with no companions other than fellow survivor Gabriel Hart (THE LOST, Crow City #1), ex-Marine Priest turns to his lost faith for answers when his life has lost all meaning…but in searching for his God, he finds a new religion. A religion of blood. Of pain.
Of vengeance.
And from that religion rises a mission to replace everything he had lost, to set right just a few of the small wrongs in the world…and to ease the constant bleeding of his broken heart, filled with sins without number.
Revisit Crow City and meet Priest as he was before the fateful night that brought him into Willow’s life…and reconnect with beloved names and faces as we discover what—and who—set him on his dark and merciless path.
 

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Autumn
Crow City #2.75
There are worse things in life than loving a man who hates you.
Unfortunately, Walford Gallifrey can’t think of many.
Ever since a ghost from his past kidnapped his niece, Willow (THE FOUND, Crow City #2), Wally’s life has been nothing but grief, turmoil, and loss. With no idea if Willow is dead or alive, Wally’s only comfort is in caring for his grieving brother-in-law and Willow’s father, Joseph Armitage. For the past twenty years, Wally has never hoped to be anything but the backdrop to Joseph’s life; between marrying Wally’s sister and decades of mistakes building walls of enmity and resentment between them, Joseph has been firmly cemented in Wally’s mind as unattainable.
But the pain of Willow’s loss forces them to face the demons sleeping between them, find common ground—and more. Together, they explore mutual grief. Shared memories. Quiet respect. Warmth. Camaraderie. The joy of learning to live again.
And an unspoken attraction, buried beneath the scars of hurtful words and terrible missteps.
Yet even as they work through the thorns and tangles of old wounds, Joseph has his own struggles to face. The struggle to leave his ex-wife in the past. To let his daughter go. And to trust Wally to love him, to see him as more than just his multiple sclerosis, when so many have treated him as less than a man. The only way forward for them both is forgiveness. Trust.
And a second chance to discover what it means, to truly be in love.
 
Note: This novel, while a standalone, follows in the aftermath of the events of THE FOUND (Crow City #2), and ties in to the events of THE SAVED (Crow City #2.5), which detail--respectively--the events of Willow's kidnapping and Walford’s prior relationship with her kidnapper, Vincent Manion.

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Excer

 

THE LOST (Crow City #1)

 

Cole McCade

 

 

A pair of worn combat boots stuck out from under the Impala like the Wicked Witch’s ruby slippers. Leigh smiled to herself, tugged her earbuds out, and tip-toed closer, listening to the scuff and clang of rough hands at work. She stopped next to a pair of long legs in dirty, frayed jeans, rested her hands on her knees, and bent to watch, holding her tongue. “You do know I can see your shadow.” A low, gritty voice drifted from beneath the Impala. Dry, coolly masculine, inflected with a certain cultured, exacting articulation, yet rough about the edges—as if he spoke so rarely his voice was rusty, ill-used. That roughness brushed over her skin like chill breath, and she shivered. That voice didn’t belong in the light of day. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to cast a shadow,” she said. “Is that what you are?” “That’s how I live. Somewhere between the world of the living and the world of the dead.” “I see.” A humorless, mocking chuckle slid from beneath the Impala, followed by a long, ferally graceful body: a stark man, defined by absolutes and keen edges. Chill gray eyes, pale as cracked ice. Hair as black as the sea at night, sharp-cut and falling over one eye, spilling against the cracked wood of the creeper beneath him and touched with thin threads of shooting-star silver at the temples. Older, she thought, from his hair and a certain dignified elegance to his stubble-shadowed jaw. Tanned, scarred skin stretched over broad shoulders. Sweat and grease stains darkened his thin white A-shirt. His tattoos said ex-military, jagged silhouettes of fierce-sweeping wings and a pointed beak in the stark style of the Arapaho, turning his right arm into a canvas from shoulder to wrist, slick black oils painted on burnished gold. He stretched out atop the creeper in a long, lazy sprawl and looked up at her, guarded and impenetrable. Something about him spoke of cold precision. A gunsight in human form, locked on and ready to kill. And when he looked at her as if he could see right through her, see through the transparent empty pointlessness of her, Leigh didn’t just feel like a target. She felt like prey. She straightened and looked away, tucking her hands into her pockets, her stomach shivering and light. “This your place?” “It is.” “Blackbird Pond?” “One witch, at your service.” “She’s contrary as a very witch herself,” she quoted, a smile trying to creep over her lips if only she’d let it. She bit it back and studied the Impala—watching him only from the corner of her eye. “You done working your magic on Gary Mitchell’s car? I’m supposed to pick up.” “You’re Leigh, then.” He rolled to his feet with easy grace. He moved like an animal, something savage under his skin, behind those unreadable eyes. Something wild that pulled at Leigh like the jungle calling to a beast that had spent its entire life behind bars. She lingered on his hands, large and cruel and rough-cut as raw granite, as he wiped his fingers clean on a rag. “Just finished final inspection. You sure you’re big enough to drive her? She’s a brute.” “My feet reach the pedals, Daddy.” A forbidding stare pinned her. “Cute.” Nothing else. Just that hard, steady stare while he stood over her, feline and powerful as a black-spotted leopard, lazy strength looming tall until she was a child in his shadow, beneath the weight of his gaze. He didn’t look at her the way most men looked at her. Like they were eyeing her pale pretty thighs and tiny skirt and slight, girlish body and wondering if she was street-legal, wondering if she’d let them go for a test drive to find out. There was a certain kind of man who went for the dirty grunge princess look, pure heroin chic, all smeared eyeliner and kiss-swollen lips, and normally when she made eye contact she knew with a certain click of rightness that she’d found a place to sleep for the night. Even the ones who didn’t want to fuck her, she could still tell what they were thinking—but not him. He was a glacier, and she found herself wanting a name just to make him human.

 

 

Abouttheauth

 

 

 
Slender. Angry. (Part) Asian.
Yeah, that about sums me up.
Hi. I’m Cole. Xen. Whatever you want to call me; both are true, and both are lies. My pen names are multitudes, my nicknames legion. Tall, bi/queer, introverted, author, and of a brown-ish persuasion made up of various flavors of Black, Asian, and Native American. I’m cuter than Hello Kitty, more bitter than the blackest coffee, and able to trip over cats in a single half-asleep lurch; I’m what happens when a Broody Antihero and a Manic Pixie Dream Boy fight to the death, and someone builds a person from the scraps left behind. Beardless, I look like the uke in every yaoi manga in existence; bearded or not, I sound like Barry White. About half my time is spent as a corporate writer, and the other half riding a train of WTFery that sometimes results in a finished book. Romance, erotica, sci-fi, horror, paranormal; LGBTQIA and cishet; diverse settings and diverse characters from a diverse author.
Sometimes I shout about things on the internet. Usually intersectional feminism and marginalized voices, and whomever’s punching down in those directions today. Sometimes human sociology, the psychology of sex and gender, and my own gender non-conforming arse (he/him, by the way). Sometimes I get really mad at Stephen Hawking and nerd out all over the place about hairy black holes, and believe it or not, that’s not a terrible pun or even worse innuendo.
That’s it. I’m a huge dork. My humor’s so dry it could empty oceans. I’m a native Southerner from the New Orleans area with zero Southern accent; I’m a mess of multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-lingual influences; I have two cats. I wake up at daft hours of the morning to go running. I crochet terrible, lumpy things that never really turn into anything. I’m older than you think I look. I’m much more shy than my fury makes me sound (signifying gods only know what, but probably nothing). Recently I decided, at 36, that I needed to restart my life and move cross-country, so I tossed 75% of my possessions in the trash and randomly trucked it to Seattle. I’m in love with books and music and technology, and they war with each other for dominance and sometimes come together in a beautiful confluence. Most of the physical books I own are strange, obscure, out of print, overseas imports, or any combination of the four. Most of the physical books I used to own were destroyed in Hurricane Katrina, and have been replaced with the infinite library on my Nook. My wallet has a dangerous attraction to anything with pages; it flirts and teases and gives its all, until there’s nothing left but emptiness and ruin.
There will always be things you don’t know, and I won’t tell.
But ask me late at night over live music in a seedy bar, and you might just get an honest answer.
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