10 February 2016

Blog Tour & Giveaway: In Place of Never by Julie Anne Lindsey

Follow the Whole Tour HERE

In Place of Never
by Julie Anne Lindsey.
Audience/Genre: Young Adult, Mystery.
Publication: February 2nd 2016 by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Can the truth set her free?…

A part of Mercy died the summer her sister tragically drowned. Now Mercy has a chance to discover if Faith’s death was an accident—or murder. Her first step is to confront the lead suspects: a band of traveling gypsies—the last people who saw her sister alive. But Mercy finds an unexpected ally in Cross, the soulful musician in their ranks. He’s a kindred spirit, someone who sees into her heart for the first time in, well, forever. Yet stirring up the past puts Mercy in danger…

Suddenly someone is shadowing Mercy’s every move, making her even more determined to uncover the facts. With Cross by her side, she is ready to face it all, even if that means opening up to him, knowing he may one day leave her. What she discovers is a truth that rocks the foundation of her small river town—and a love worth risking everything for….

Chapter 1 The Sideshow Faith is dead. The words had formed my first thought every day for three years. Strangely, on the anniversary of her death, my mind was blank. My bedroom door stood open, courtesy of my little sister, Prudence, no doubt. This was her way of nudging me into motion. Muted shades of gray light filtered through rain-washed windows, barely enough to illuminate dust motes floating overhead. Time to face the worst day of the year.Sounds and scents of breakfast climbed two flights of stairs and settled into my thoughts with an eerie echo. I pulled clothes from the pile and brushed my teeth and hair. These were the things Id only begun to appreciate before everything changed. Far too soon, my toes curled over the top step outside my room. I pulled in a deep breath and braced my palms against cool stairwell walls, dragging my fingertips over the grooves and planes in the wood paneling as I inched downstairs. From the quiet hallway outside our kitchen, life looked surreal, like the setting for a play with actors in motion but no audience or script. Dads clothes were as neat as a pin, and his hair fell in the same schoolboy style hed outgrown thirty years ago. The morning paper lay open in front of him, beside a full cup of coffee that had lost its steam. Pru stood at the stove shoveling eggs from a pan onto a plate. She, too, appeared ready for the day, if I ignored the tremor in her hand and the strain in her brow. She nearly dropped the plate when she turned from the stove. Mercy. She pressed a hand to her heart and stumbled to the table with the eggs. Why are you just standing there?Dad turned blank eyes on me, unspeaking. I moved to the counter and filled Moms favorite travel mug with coffee, ignoring the palpable tension. In sixty seconds, Id be out the door with my free, portable caffeine. Pru untied the apron from her waist and folded it on the counter. She stared at me. Arent you eating?I sealed the mug. No. I needed to be anywhere but here. Dad tensed. The paper crumbled around his tightened grip, but he wouldnt get involved, especially not today. Today wed pretend we were still a family. Three months from now, wed do it again. Pru bit her trembling lip. Mercy. The word was barely audible, even in the quietest house on Earth. Something tore inside me, and I wavered, slowly sipping coffee until the bitter taste Mom had loved turned my stomach.
Dad pressed the paper against our ancient Formica tabletop and lifted cold coffee to his lips. I settled onto a chair and tapped my nails over tiny flecks of gold and silver embedded in the tables white surface. He and Mom had received the kitchen set as a wedding present from her parents. A grooved metal wrap curled around the tables perimeter. My sisters and I had done homework at that table. Birthday cakes and Thanksgiving dinners were served there. When our family was whole, wed played cards and board games together every Friday night. Family night. Lately, we were a family of ghosts, figurative and literal. The legs of Dads chair scraped over worn linoleum. He poured his coffee into the sink and freed his jacket from the chair back where hed sat. He threaded his arms though too-large holes. Ill be home late.Pru flopped her arms against her sides. But you didnt eat.He scooped his Bible and keys off the counter and pulled the front door closed behind him. Pru collapsed into the seat across from me. Bony elbows slid across the tabletop. Please eat something.No thank you.Her frown deepened. No one eats around here. It isnt healthy.We dont sleep or talk either. At least were consistent. A deep cringe pinched my heart. Id promised myself not to provoke Pru. She was only a kid. The least I could do was use restraint and good manners. Sorry.I stared into her wide blue eyes, wanting to say a million things I couldnt. You didnt need to make breakfast. Its not your responsibility. The word lodged in my throat, filling the space until air struggled past. Sorry.Hurt welled in Prus eyes. Whose responsibility is it then? Yours? She stood in a burst of energy I couldnt fathom, rocking her chair onto two legs before it settled with a thump. Im fifteen, not five. Pru whirled through the room, dumping eggs in the trash and shoving dishes into the sink. Defeated by her loved ones before nine AM. It wasnt fair. She turned on her heels and glared at me. Youre leaving in six weeks. Then what? She bit her bottom lip and scrubbed a plate hard. You could at least pretend you dont want to go. Even if its a lie.Im not leaving. Im going to college like everyone does.Her weary eyes drooped at the corners. Not everyone.Not Faith. As if I needed the reminder. As if I didnt think of that every day. She dried her hands and pursed her lips. What are you doing today?Thunder rocked the house. Im going out.Out where? Theres a storm. Besides, my friends are coming over for movies and popcorn. Why dont you stay? Company could take your mind off...stuff.
Stuff. Right. Me, Prudence, and the color guard? I flipped a handful of sandy curls off Prus shoulder. Im not sure thatd be fun for anyone.Please.Cant. Im going to go see Mom and Faith. Ill be home later. Her doe-eyed expression stopped me short. Since when was Pru so needy? Shed certainly never needed me. Had she? Even if she had, what was I supposed to do about it? If you want, you can come up to my room when your friends leave. Well eat cold pizza and drink warm soda after Dad falls asleep. My throat constricted further with each word. Faith and I had spent many nights that way when Pru was small and sound asleep in her room next door. She paled. Maybe.I narrowed my eyes. Maybe? That was the best invitation Id ever offered and shed turned me down. Something was up. Why? Do you have plans after Dad falls asleep?Maybe.I sucked air. You cant go out after curfew.She crossed thin arms over her chest. I said maybe. Anyways, since when do you care? Is this a joke? You think youre in charge?My gut wrenched. Was I? Everyone ahead of me on the chain of command had either died or otherwise checked out. You cant stay out all night.She clenched her jaw. I grabbed my bag off the coat tree and secured it cross body before she lashed out. I cant do this right now. Ill be home soon. I wont interrupt your movie day, but I will look for you tonight.Pru scoffed as I edged past her and out the door where Dad had disappeared minutes before. My muddy Chucks waited on the rack against the railing. Pru glared at me through the window. I couldnt stay. I had to visit Mom and Faith before the storm washed the roads away. I gathered my hair into a knot as I sloshed through the rain toward the edge of town. Puddles splashed warm water onto my ankles. Raindrops swiveled patterns over my forehead into my eyes, blurring my vision andmasking a hot tear of frustration on one cheek. The streets were empty of pedestrians. Cars with wipers on warp speed settled at stoplights or outside shops, collecting women in rain gear and children wielding umbrellas shaped like storybook characters. Dads car sat alone in the church lot. He dreamed of inspiring the town and he prayed fervently for a healing of our broken community. The concept was nice if you werent one of his forgotten daughters.
I ducked my head and moved faster, dashing through the lot and across the intersection at Main Street. Soggy, wind-battered flyers waved from light posts on every corner. The annual River Festival returned this month, assuming St. Marys didnt wash off the map before then. I tugged my hood over my ears and sloshed onto the sidewalk. American flags lined store windows. Support our Troops shirts and Uncle Sam bobbleheads monopolized every retail display in town. The Fourth of July fun was right on schedule, only a few days until the big parade and concert in the park. My family didnt celebrate this weekend anymore. Several yards away, two guys took shelter under the awning outside our local honky-tonk. Their laughter broke through the drumming of rain on rooftops and pounding of truck tires through puddles. Both were tall, dark, and out of place in my town. Instead of jeans and boots, like cowboys or country singers, or the shorts and gym shoes of locals and tourists, this pair wore black pants and dress shoes. Their matching V-neck shirts were equally out of place in St. Marys, West Virginia. The broader one noticed me first. His smile vanished and his posture stiffened. He locked his wrists behind his back and nodded. The short sleeves of his shirt nipped his biceps. The ridiculous breadth of his chest tested the limits of the thin black material. His clothes probably hid the grotesquely oversculpted figure of a body builder. My feet slowed instinctively, weighing the merits of crossing the street to avoid them. Crossing meant moving away from my destination, staying meant eventually sharing a three-foot patch of cement with two guys already filling every spare inch. The leaner, younger-looking one turned his face toward me. Black ink crawled up his neck from the collar of his shirt to his earlobe. A scar pierced one eyebrow and a thin silver hoop graced the corner of his mouth. Dad wouldnt approve. I rounded my shoulders, withdrawing into my hoodie and averting my eyes. The broad one whipped a hand out as I stepped onto their patch of cement. Miss.I jumped back, wrapping my fingertips around the strap of my bag. His enormous arm blocked my path. He clenched a mass of silk flowers in his fist. For the lady.Uh. I pulled in a shallow breath. No thank you.The younger ones eyebrows dove together. I think youre scaring her. His dark eyes settled on mine. His voice was deep and low. Is he scaring you?The big guy handed the flowers to his friend and stepped back, palms up. The younger one offered them to me, extending his arm slowly as if being careful not to frighten a wild animal. Im Cross. This is Anton. Anton thinks hes a magician.I glanced over one shoulder at the church behind me before accepting the strange offer. A lifetime of forced manners pushed my name from my mouth. Mercy.Crosss lips twitched. Hes a lot to take in, but hes a marshmallow.
I bit back an awkward smile as Anton protested the remark with a shove. Mercys my name. It wasnt an exclamation.Cross relaxed his posture. Good to know. He shoved his fingers into his pockets. Do you live here?Yeah. A measure of unexplained confidence wound through me. Not you, though. I scrutinized their strange ensembles again. Their clothes were almost like costumes, or what I imagined a mortician would wear in the nineteen hundreds. What are you doing here? I sidestepped them, exchanging my view of the distant willows for a view of the church.The low tenor of their voices collided as Cross said, Visiting, and Anton said, Performing.Cross narrowed his eyes at Anton. Interesting. A sign tucked into the corner of the honky-tonks window announced another round of live bands. Cash prizes and a guaranteed Nashville record executive in the audience meant lots of newcomers to St. Marys. Maybe these two were country singers. Performing what?Again with the twin speak, Cross answered, Nothing.Anton answered, Everything.I frowned. Well, thats cleared up. I waved the bouquet. Thanks for the flowers.Youre welcome, they answered. Dads face appeared in the church window, and I darted into the rain. I have to go.I stuffed the flowers into my bag as I jogged away from the street of shops, closing the space between the willows and me. Thunder cracked in the distance. The storm was passing for now. I stepped into the pavilion outside St. Marys Cemetery with a sigh of relief. Willow trees lined our small town along the rivers west edge. Their craggy branches swept the earth with every gust of wind. The town cemetery stretched fingers of marble graves into the distance, marking lives lost in the mid-eighteen hundreds beside others lost in my lifetime. Two of those graves marked the lives of Porter women, Faith and Mary Porter. My older sister and my mother. When the drops thinned to sprinkles, I made my way up muddy paths to their grave sites, sliding down as often as I moved forward. Dad said hed chosen the spots at the top of the hill so Faith and Mom could look over our town. If they truly had a view, theirs was perfect. The sopping earth squished under my weight as I left the path. A week of relentless rain had ruined the dirt roads and flooded the lowlands mercilessly. I knelt before the headstones. Hi. I bet you didnt think Id come in the storm. Tears burned my eyes. Id come selfishly. Youre the only one I can talk to.I rubbed my wrist over each eye. I am so amazingly sorry.Wind beat against the trees, shaking limbs and freeing wads of green leaves from their branches. The storms gathering again.
I wiped pine needles and dirt off Faiths name. Wind tossed sticks and tiny American flags across the thick green grass. A batch of grave flowers rolled down the hill toward the river, reminding me of the ones in my bag.I have something today. I unlatched my bag and pulled out the silk flowers. Some very weird guys outside Reds gave these to me. I think you should have them, Faith. I dont bring you flowers enough. Maybe thats why I ran into those two. You needed flowers. I stabbed their plastic stems into the mushy ground and pressed the grass tight around them, anchoring them the best I could. I miss you. I wish you knew how much. Dads still trying to save the town. Prus still pretending shes like everyone else. The color guards coming over for popcorn and movies. I rolled my eyes. I think shes planning to sneak out tonight, and I dont even know if its the first time.I settled in the wet grass and tilted my face to the sky. Ive never minded our summer storms. Remember when we used to dance in the rain until Dad begged us all inside? Hed laugh and say, I mocked Dads deeper voice, I guess the rumors are true. My girls dont have the sense to come in out of the rain.A sound in the distance caught my attention. A rhythm. Do you hear that? Wind whipped through the trees, but the eerie sound of tinny pipes and organs floated to my ears. I rubbed my palms over gooseflesh-covered arms and an icy shiver slid down my spine. I stood on wobbly knees and moved to the hills edge. A line of black vehicles crawled along the river toward the campground. Each truck was marked with the symbol that once haunted my dreams. A fancy letter L, circled in curlicue lines and tiny words from another language. The Lovell Traveling Sideshow came back?After three years, it was back. I turned to my sister. I bet they came for the River Festival. What should I do?I sensed her presence and felt her voice in the wind, obscured by the ringing in my ears. My weary conscience screamed, Leave it alone, but my every curious fiber disagreed. Id researched, cyberstalked, and obsessed over the Lovells off and on for two years before I backed off. I squinted at the caravan of trucks below. If one of them knew what happened to Faith, I needed to hear it. Maybe someone at their campsite could help me. Dad refused me the courtesy of knowing what happened to my sister. When Id followed him through our home begging, hed said I was too young. Faith was too young. I should pray for peace. Id scoured the local paper and Internet for information. Three years later, the only things I knew for sure were Faith was dead and Dad blamed the Lovells. Id heard him and Mom after Faiths funeral. He hated them, but it didnt make any sense. Faith drowned. Dad believed the Lovells contributed to Faiths death somehow, despite the coroners accidental drowning conclusion. I looked over one shoulder at Faiths headstone. Ive got to go. Ill be back. I rubbed wet palms against my jeans. My feet stumbled through the grass on autopilot. This was my chance.

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Julie Anne Lindsey is a multi-genre author who writes the stories that keep her up at night. She’s a self-proclaimed nerd with a penchant for words and proclivity for fun. Mother of three, wife to a sane person and Ring Master at the Lindsey Circus, most days you'll find her online, amped up on caffeine and wielding a book. Julie started writing to make people smile. Someday she plans to change the world.
Julie is a member of the International Thriller Writers (ITW), Sisters in Crime (SinC) and the Canton Writer’s Guild.

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Blog Tour & GIveaway: Beyond the Stars by Stacy Wise

Beyond the Stars by Stacy Wise.
Audience/Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance.
Publication: February 8th 2016 by Entangled Publishing.
Falling for him wasn't in the plans...

Most girls would kill for the opportunity to work for Jack McAlister, Hollywood's hottest actor, but twenty-one-year-old Jessica Beckett is ready to kick him out of her red Ford Fiesta and never look back. She should be spending her junior year in France, eating pastries and sharpening her foreign language skills. Instead she's reluctantly working as Jack's personal assistant, thanks to her powerhouse talent agent aunt.

Jack is private, prickly, and downright condescending. Jessica pushes his buttons—she's not the type of girl to swoon over celebrity heartthrobs, precisely why her aunt thought she'd be perfect for the job—and Jack pushes right back.

But as she begins to peel away his layers, Jessica is shocked to find she craves her boss's easy smile and sexy blue eyes. The problem is, so does the entire female population. And what started out as the job from hell soon has Jess wondering if a guy like Jack could ever find love with a regular girl like her.

Guest Post: Five reasons dating a Hollywood star is the best/worst.... 


What? Cake? you ask. Yes, my darlings. Cake. Feast your eyes on these delightful confections:

First up is Ashley Greene’s birthday cake.
Candy and cake pops and ice cream cones made of frosting! It’s almost too cute to eat. (Almost.)

And here we have Tom Cruise’s 50th birthday cake. It’s ginormous. Imagine the leftovers you could bring home. And eat. (On your sofa in your jammies, no less. See where I’m going with this?)

And the final cake was made for J. Lo.
Maybe this is a bad example. It’s a bit creepy, no?

2. Trips to Disneyland. Easy explanation: no lines.
3. Famous people know other famous people, so you could potentially meet Jennifer Lawrence or Chris Hemsworth or the guys from One Direction...whoever your faves are!
4. Safety. With all those paparazzi trailing you, would-be muggers are going to steer clear.
5. Exotic vacations. Your sig other must go on location to Bali? Darn, guess you’ll have to tag along. ;)

1. That high school yearbook photo you forgot about? The one with the bangs, braces, and the V-neck shirt your mother insisted looked great? The tabloids will find it and plaster it everywhere. Everywhere.
2. Another negative aspect to consider is this: How do you feel about seeing your sig other getting down and dirty, perhaps while nearly nekked, on the big screen? Possibly in 3D. Hello, jealousy!
3. Grooming. Let’s face it, if you’re going to be in the public eye with your famous love, you’ll probably be expected to dress appropriately and appear picture perfect at all times. Get ready for the waxing, buffing, and polishing. (*Note: this could be a positive if you enjoy all that business.)
4. Time alone. Yep, if you can’t join your darling on location, you could be solo for up to three months. Maybe more. (Sigh.)
5. The grocery store. Yes, this mundane errand can be a paparazzi hotspot. So now instead of strolling the aisles at a leisurely pace, debating whether to choose the Oreos or Nutter Butters, you’ll grab the organic granola bars and race to the check out. Such is life.

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Stacy Wise is the author of BEYOND THE STARS (Entangled Embrace, 2016). She has a B.A. in Communication Studies from UCLA and a Masters in Teaching from Chapman University. She lives in California with her husband, four children, two dogs, and ever-changing number of fish. BEYOND THE STARS is her debut novel.

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Cover Reveal: In Your Dreams (Falling #4) by Ginger Scott

In Your Dreams (Falling #4)
by Ginger Scott.
Audience/Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance.
Publication: March 29th 2016 by Ginger Scott.
Casey Coffield has a growing list of personal flaws he keeps locked away in his head:
He’s never on time.
His list of IOUs to his best friend is endless.
Money is always short.
Goals are never in reach.

Oh, and he’s decided to add college drop-out to that list, too. He doesn’t really think that last one’s such a bad thing, but his family insists it is, so it stays on the list.

On paper, he’s a zero. But in person, when he’s mixing tracks for a sea of bodies at the hottest clubs and parties, he’s downright irresistible. Just-right stubble on his chin, body of a boxer and a smirk that stimulates all the right nerves—women have never been a problem. They flock to his swagger and fall for his charm…fast.

All except for this one.

Purple hair, gray eyes, a raspy voice and sass, Murphy Sullivan is a little bit country and a little bit rock-n-roll. And her and Casey? They have history. He can’t remember it, but she wrote a song about him—and it’s not exactly a love song. But it is good. Damn good. And uncovering her inspiration just might be the key to solving a few of his shortcomings—not to mention open doors to his own big break in the music industry.

But sometimes dreams get messy when they collide. Sometimes life changes patterns. A past paints the wrong picture and futures get cloudy. The only question that remains is who will you choose when the dust settles—you? Or the girl of your dreams?

“Want to hear a cut?”

She folds her hands around her body and nods, her eyes bright. I pull out the Ratatat song she was listening to with her brother and let it start rolling, setting the intro to loop. Then I break up the beat with some new layers, so the song is recognizable, but unique.

“That’s so unbelievably cool,” she says, her body moving to the rhythm.

I’m about to blow her mind. I’ve had this planned since late last night, and the effect is better than I could have dreamed. I want to see her dance. I wait just long enough, smiling at her and moving my head along with the vibe until I feel it in my gut. There’s always a moment—it’s what makes me good. I’ve had it since the first time I touched a soundboard. I can sense when the craving is at it’s peak, when the room wants more. It’s like a slow-building orgasm, and I bring everyone to the brink, feeling their bodies fall in line with the count, giving their minds over to the melody. This is the high I was talking about, and Murphy—she’s there. Her eyes are closed and her body is moving more than I think she realizes, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m about to be her undoing without even laying a hand on her.

My finger poised over the button, I wait until it’s just right to let the first drop go. I picked Nina Simone because she’s jazzy, just like Murphy, and she’s full of fire and there’s a swagger in her song—the moment her voice breaks through the beat, Murphy knows. Her eyes drag open and her body keeps swaying. Baby grays are looking at me and smiling. Her chest is rising and falling off rhythm even though her body keeps tempo. It’s because I’m in her head now—my song is in her head, and she’s feeling something different, something more.

The break I built is coming up, and I know it—she’ll shiver. I step close, letting my headphones slip around my neck. I come closer and watch her for a sign that I shouldn’t move more. She doesn’t stray—she’s drunk in seconds, and she wants me near. The break happens, and her heat tilts back as she closes her eyes, and that goddamned perfect neck is exposed and my lips come close enough to touch it. I don’t, but I linger, letting her feel my breath on her skin, small bumps rising in reaction. Chemistry and biology—beautiful. My nose grazes just below her ear as my hands carefully slide on her body, careful to touch in just the right place above her waist. She doesn’t flinch because she’s given over to the feeling—the performance of it all. That’s all this ever is. I fill rooms with pheromones and bodies become mine.

Right now, Murphy is completely in my control. My hands urge her to turn, and her body spins slowly, every curve brushing against me until her back is flush with my chest. I drag one hand around her waist and up her spine, my palm flat as it follows the line of her zipper, my thumb feeling the jagged metal and my mind imagining dragging it the opposite way. I close my own eyes as my hand pushes against her neck and my fingers find her hair, sweeping it up in my hold so my mouth can play against her ear. I bring my hand down carefully, both of us moving together to the sexy beat I built just for her, and I hold my breath as my hand opens wide and splays under her breasts, holding her tight against me.

My thumb close to god, I feel her lungs grow inside her, her breathing deep and desperate. I could take her now, but that…that would be a mistake. I only wanted to get this close—to feel this much. I wanted to see if my powers worked on her as well. They do, but hers have the equal effect on me. My mouth watering and my cock growing hard, my eyelids grow heavy as my self-made rules fight against my desire.

Leaning into her, my lips press against the inside of her neck, marking her with a cool kiss as my tongue takes one, tiny taste of her skin before my mouth finds her ear.

“This is what I do, Murphy. I…can make people…do…whatever…I…want,” I whisper, and her breath falls away completely, her head dropping back against me, her hands moving to my wrists and holding me with a tight desperation that begs for more.

My eyes close, and I indulge for a few seconds, dragging my hand up her body again, careful to not touch her too intimately despite how badly my hand wants to go there. I trace her bare shoulder and move to her neck, my thumb running over the zipper that it now considers the enemy. I push her slowly in front of me, giving us just enough space for me to let my head fall against the back of hers so my eyes can rake over the perfect line of her neck one last time. My mouth moves forward, wanting to taste more, but I puff out a breath instead and let go of her completely, knowing a second longer is the difference between being able to stop.

I kill the sound. An abrupt edge. And Murphy takes a step forward, as if I’ve just released her from a trance. I have. But I can put her back under it any time I want. And I intend to.

Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling author of nine young and new adult
romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How
We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, Wild
Reckless, The Girl I Was Before, and Wicked Restless.

A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. (She’s also a sucker for a hot quarterback, catcher, pitcher, point guard…the list goes on.) Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work,
visit her website at http://www.littlemisswrite.com.

When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

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09 February 2016

Review: Night Study (Soulfinders #2) by Maria V. Snyder

Night Study (Soulfinders #2)
by Maria V. Snyder.
Audience/Genre: New Adult, Fantasy.
Publication: January 26th 2016 by MIRA Ink.
Ever since being kidnapped from the Illiais Jungle as a child, Yelena Zaltana's has been fraught with peril. But the recent loss of her Soulfinding abilities has endangered her more than ever before. As she desperately searches for a way to reclaim her magic, her enemies are closing in, and neither Ixia nor Sitia are safe for her anymore. Especially since the growing discord between the two countries and the possibility of a war threatens everything Yelena holds dear.

Valek is determined to protect Yelena, but he's quickly running out of options. The Commander suspects that his loyalties are divided, and he's been keeping secrets from Valek...secrets that put him, Yelena and all their friends in terrible danger. As they uncover the various layers of the Commander's mysterious plans, they realize it's far more sinister that they could have ever imagined.

Reviewed by Kelly

I love Maria Snyder! Her stories are all consuming; you can’t get enough of them! You find yourself literally transformed into a world where you are always moving, feeling, seeing and thinking. This book is no different. This one though feels more like a family. They are more joined and the stakes are raised as they will do whatever it takes for their family!

There is nonstop action. You really have to read the Study/Glass series to best be able to understand all that is going on, because once you start it just goes and goes! What I do like is that she puts little reminders in the story if you have forgotten something in the previous books. I also had forgotten the witty dry sarcastic banter they all have especially Janco!

I can’t wait for the next book. I want to read Kiki talking to Yelena again. I want to see how they are going to fix this huge HUGE problem that they have! I want to see what happens to Valek next! I want to see what happens next period!! Maria’s stories are like a drug to me!!

Meteorologist turned novelist, Maria's been writing fantasy and science fiction since she was bored at work and needed something creative to do. A dozen novels and numerous short stories later, Maria's learned a thing or three about writing. She’s been on the New York Times bestseller list, won a half-dozen awards, and has earned her MA degree in Writing from Seton Hill University where she's been happily sharing her knowledge with the current crop of MFA students. She also enjoys creating new worlds where horses and swords rule, 'cause let's face it, they're cool, although she's been known to trap her poor characters in a giant metal cube and let them figure out how to get out. Readers are welcome to check out her website for book excerpts, free short stories, maps, blog, and her schedule at http://www.MariaVSnyder.com.

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Book Release Day & Giveaway: 1001 Nights: Searching for Mine by Jennifer Probst

Searching for Mine (Searching For #4.5)
by Jennifer Probst.
Audience/Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance.
Publication: February 9th 2016.
The Ultimate Anti-Hero Meets His Match…

Connor Dunkle knows what he wants in a woman, and it’s the three B’s. Beauty. Body. Boobs. Other women need not apply. With his good looks and easygoing charm, he’s used to getting what he wants—and who. Until he comes face to face with the one woman who’s slowly making his life hell...and enjoying every moment...

Ella Blake is a single mom and a professor at the local Verily college who’s climbed up the ranks the hard way. Her ten-year-old son is a constant challenge, and her students are driving her crazy—namely Connor Dunkle, who’s failing her class and trying to charm his way into a better grade. Fuming at his chauvinistic tendencies, Ella teaches him the ultimate lesson by giving him a special project to help his grade. When sparks fly, neither of them are ready to face their true feelings, but will love teach them the ultimate lesson of all?

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Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She is the NYT and USA Today bestselling author of The Marriage Bargain. She is published both erotic and sexy contemporary romance with Entangled, Decadent, Red Sage and TWRP. She has also written a children's book, Buffy and the Carrot, co-written with her twelve year old niece, along with a short story, "A Life Worth Living." Visit her website for more info!

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