It's not safe for anyone alone in the woods. There are predators that come out at night: critters and coyotes, snakes and wolves. But the woman in the red jacket has no choice. Not since the Crisis came, decimated the population, and sent those who survived fleeing into quarantine camps that serve as breeding grounds for death, destruction, and disease. She is just a woman trying not to get killed in a world that doesn't look anything like the one she grew up in, the one that was perfectly sane and normal and boring until three months ago. There are worse threats in the woods than the things that stalk their prey at night. Sometimes, there are men. Men with dark desires, weak wills, and evil intents. Men in uniform with classified information, deadly secrets, and unforgiving orders. And sometimes, just sometimes, there's something worse than all of the horrible people and vicious beasts combined. Red doesn't like to think of herself as a killer, but she isn't about to let herself get eaten up just because she is a woman alone in the woods....~ Goodreads
Source: e-arc provided in exchange for an honest review via Netgalley Review: I was sure this was the book for me - a dark YA retelling of Little Red Riding Hood but the writing style was really frustrating for me.
The things I liked:
- It is dark! Henry pulls no punches about what it's like to survive post apocalypse. YA usually holds back a little or softens the edges (especially by adding a romantic interest) and The Girl In Red does not. Survival is probably 20% about the cure (or killing zombies or whatever) and 80% outwitting/avoiding your fellow survivors. Red has a family and she cares about them but it's not all sunshine and roses - they fight, they disagree, they make tough choices.
- Red watches lots of movies and knows all the common traps people fall into and she IS NOT going to be one of them. I think we all have watched enough post apocalypse movies and tv shows at this point that we yell at the TV for how stupid people act. Red vocalizes what we're all thinking. It's funny and it gives her a plausible reason for her survival skills.
- Red is an amputee with a prosthetic leg and I like how it was written as something that doesn't deter her in any way but isn't ignored either. I think a lot of survival stories tend to either completely ignore disabilities thinking (wrongly) the people wouldn't be able to survive or add some suped up ability - like a prosthetic leg or arm that can be turned into a weapon or something like that. I have limited knowledge in this area but it seemed well done.
The not so much:
- Red has a huge chip on her shoulder. HUGE. She thinks she knows everything about everything and isn't afraid to let you know that she thinks she's smarter than everyone. Red does not have to be nice, or even likable - the girl is trying survive - but she's put herself so far above everyone else that it's difficult to to make an emotional connection to her when she does show feelings of loss or grief. The impact just isn't as great.
- As I said Red knows everything! And this is more about the writing than Red as a character - but the author felt the need to explain, in great detail, how she knows these things:
Performs a defensive maneuver - learned that during that one self defense class she took.
Discusses the rules of succession with a soldier (and is sure to school him) - because she took a social studies class once.
Doesn't want to eat candy - discussion ensues about the dangers of artificial sweeteners and chemicals and cancer and how the government once lied about arsenic in wallpaper.
Knowing the right antibiotics to choose at an abandoned store - she had read all the fact sheets that WHO posted on their website - long before the apocalypse.
Again. I'm not talking about Red being smart or wanting to learn things. that's awesome! I'm talking about how the author wrote it - making Red that smart - then needing to explain every bit of knowledge.
Like this for example:
“He looked, Red thought, like a refugee from The Outsiders (which was not a film she would normally watch but her eleventh-grade English teacher had done a Book vs. movie term and that was one of his selections).”
This really made the flow of the book slow waaaay down for me.
The premise is cool - I think the author was more than willing to take this to where it needed to go to show the terror, loneliness, hardships and confusion - with an interesting twist that I won't spoil.
There's no romance, there are severe consequences for dumb behavior and a heroine who is tough and smart. I loved that she was a loner - rather than the typical group dynamic in these kinds of books where there always has to be a group. But the writing just felt bogged down in facts and opinions (inner monologue) on everything from guns to artificial sweeteners. I think this could have all been incorporated more seamlessly to an otherwise cool story.
Even though it didn't really work for me, I would recommend this one to readers who like darker YA, no romance, tough heroines.
I should also point out that this is VERY loose retelling. Her name is Red, she's wearing a red hoodie and on her way to grandmother's house but that's about it. The *wolf* is more mankind in general but with a twist...
For another point of view – check out Lindsi from Do You Dog Ear’s review
Welcome to my stop on the AFTERPARTY by Daryl Gregory blog tour.
It begins in Toronto, in the years after the smart drug revolution. Any high school student with a chemjet and internet connection can download recipes and print drugs, or invent them. A seventeen-year-old street girl finds God through a new brain-altering drug called Numinous, used as a sacrament by a new Church that preys on the underclass. But she is arrested and put into detention, and without the drug, commits suicide. Lyda Rose, another patient in that detention facility, has a dark secret: she was one of the original scientists who developed the drug. With the help of an ex-government agent and an imaginary, drug-induced doctor, Lyda sets out to find the other three survivors of the five who made the Numinous in a quest to set things right. A mind-bending and violent chase across Canada and the US, Daryl Gregory's Afterparty is a marvelous mix of William Gibson’s Neuromancer, Philip K. Dick’s Ubik, and perhaps a bit of Peter Watts’s Starfish: a last chance to save civilization, or die trying. Goodreads | Author | Amazon
Source: Finished copy provided in exchange for a honest review.
Review:
To be honest, I originally accepted this book for review thinking it was a sci-fi, YA novel, similar to Suzanne Young’s The Program. In reality it’s an a adult, genre defying, mind bending novel. Is neuroscience noir a thing? If not, I think Gregory just made it one.
Lyda Rose, a scientist, a widower, a drug addict, and a psychiatric ward patient with an angel named Dr. Gloria at her side, is one f*cked up heroine & unlike any that I’ve read before.
This was way outside my normal reading zone and I struggled to wrap my brain around the science jargon but I was fascinated by this near-future (fictional, yet possible) world of designer drugs and the moral abyss Lyda finds herself swimming through as she races to put the genie back in the bottle.
Afterparty explores big ideas like addiction, religion and power in an action packed mystery with a cast of quirky characters. If you're a fan of sci-fi, crime with a noir feel, irreverent humor and questionable ethics give this genre mash up a shot.
*** I’ve included the prologue and link to Chapter 1 for Afterparty below:
The Parable of the Girl Who Died and Went to Hell,
Not Necessarily in That Order
There was a girl who lived on the streets in a northern city. She was sixteen years old when she found God, and had just turned seventeen when God abandoned her.
She didn’t understand why He would turn His back on her now, after He had saved her life. She’d been living rough for two years. At night she navigated by bunk-finder apps, competing for space in the shelters with the thousands of other teenagers roaming the city. She did bad things to get by. She worked the crowded sidewalks, beaming her profile pic to the dashboards of the trolling cars, climbing into front seats and climbing out again fifteen minutes later. She stole, and she beat other teenagers who tried to steal from her, and once she did something terrible, something unforgivable.
When she thought of what she’d done, even glancingly, a black tunnel seemed to open up behind her eyes. Anything might trigger the memory: a word, the sight of an old woman, the smell of soup burning on a stove. On those days she thought the black would swallow her whole.
Then one night, at the end of a week of black days, she found herself in the Spadina station looking over the edge of the platform, measuring the short distance to the rails. She could feel the train coming, growling to her, pushing its hot breath down the tracks. The concrete rumbled encouragement to her feet. She moved up to the yellow line, and the toes of her sneakers touched air. The only way out of the black tunnel, she realized, was through it.
She felt a hand on her arm. “Hey there.” It was a friend, one of her first on the street, a tall black boy older than her by a few years who maintained a crazy rectangular beard. He said, “You doing anything?”
She didn’t know how to answer that.
She followed him up out of the station. A while later, an older man with hardcore prison tattoos picked them up in a rusting SUV and drove them a few miles to a strip mall. Most of the stores were empty. The man, who said he was a pastor, opened one of the doors and said, “Welcome to our little church.”
People began to filter in and take seats in the circle of folding chairs. The service began with singing, songs she didn’t know but that sounded familiar. And then the pastor stood in the middle of the circle for the sermon. He turned as he talked, making eye contact with the people, making eye contact with her, which made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t remember now what he’d spoken about.
At the end of the service, everyone stood up and formed a line in front of the pastor, their hands out, mouths open like birds. Her friend looked at her questioningly; it was her decision. She stood up with the others, and when it was her turn the pastor held up a piece of paper with a single word printed on it: Logos. “This is the word made flesh,” he said.
She wasn’t stupid. She’d eaten paper before, and knew that the ink could contain almost anything. She opened her mouth, and he placed it on her tongue. The paper dissolved like cotton candy.
She felt nothing. If there was anything mixed into the ink or the paper, it was too mild to affect her.
That night, as she lay on a bed in a shelter that the pastor had lined up for her, the black tunnel was still there. But there was something else, too: a feeling, as if she were being watched.
No: watched over.
She made her way back to the church the next day, and the day after that. The feeling of a loving presence grew like sun rising over her shoulder. The pastor called it the Numinous. “It’s knowledge,” he said. Proof that we are all loved, all connected.
Her problems weren’t solved. She still slept in restaurant bathrooms, and lifted snacks from gas stations, and gave blow jobs to men in cars. Still struggled with the black tunnel. But she could not shake that secret knowledge that she was loved. She could not yet forgive herself, but she began to think that someone else might.
One night, a month after that first church service, just a few days before her birthday, the cops swept through the park, and she was arrested for solicitation. Because she was underage, they would not release her until they found her parents. She wouldn’t help the police; the last thing she wanted was to let her parents know where she was. God, she thought, would provide a way out of this.
But as the days passed in the detention center, something was changing. God’s presence faded, as if He was moving away from her, turning His back on her. She began to panic. She prayed, and wept, and prayed some more. Then a female guard caught her creating her own sacrament, swallowing scraps of toilet paper, and thought she had smuggled in smart drugs. They took her blood and swabbed her tongue and made her pee in a cup. Two days later they transferred her to a hospital west of the city, and locked her up with crazy people.
On her second night in the hospital, a red-haired woman appeared in her room. She seemed familiar, and then suddenly the girl remembered her. “You let me sleep on your couch once.”
The woman stepped into the room. Her red hair, the girl saw now, was shot with threads of gray. “Wasn’t my idea,” the woman said. “But yeah.” It had been ten below, and the red-haired woman had found her shivering outside a gas station. The girl had thought the woman wanted sex, but no; she’d fed her pizza and let her spend the night, and the girl had slipped out of the apartment before morning. It was the kindest thing a stranger had ever done for her, until she met the pastor.
“What are you doing here?” the woman asked. Her voice was soft. “What did you take?”
How could she explain that she’d taken nothing? That they’d locked her up because she’d finally realized that God was real?
“I’ve lost it,” the girl said. “I’ve lost the Numinous.”
The woman seemed shocked at the word, as if she recognized it. Perhaps she was part of the church? The girl told her her story, and the woman seemed to understand. But then the woman asked questions that proved she didn’t understand at all: “This pastor—did he tell you the name of the drug? Where he got it? How long have you been in withdrawal?”
The black tunnel seemed to throw itself open, and the girl refused to say any more. After a time the red-haired woman went away, and the nurses came to her with pills that they said would help her with her depression, her anxiety. A psychologist brought her to his office—“just to talk.”
But she did not need antidepressants, or soothing conversation. She understood, finally, why God had withdrawn from her. What He was trying to tell her.
When she was full of God’s love, she couldn’t do what she needed to do. God had to step back so that she’d have the strength to do what she should have done months ago. So she could make the required sacrifice.
At her next meeting with the psychologist, she stole a ceramic mug from his desk. He never noticed; she was practiced at lifting merchandise. An hour after that, before she could lose her nerve, she went to the bathroom and smashed the mug against the edge of the stainless steel sink. She chose the largest shard, then sawed apart the veins in her left arm.
Welcome to Saturday Spotlight. A feature hosted by Tina’s Book Reviews as a way of shining the light on Indie/Debut/Self Published authors. Each week I’ll have a guest post written by a featured author.
I’m welcoming back author and singer Brooklyn James to talk about the soundtrack she created for her novel The Boots My Mother Gave Me. She’s giving us a peek at the chapter “Can’t Get It Right” along with her video that parallels the story. Check it out and enter the giveaway at the end of this post!
"Brooklyn James' soundtrack to her novel The Boots My Mother Gave Me does more than give a clever feminist twist to the title. Her songs serve as chapters themselves, underlining James' deft ability as a storyteller and songwriter." -Margaret Moser, The Austin Chronicle
Listen to more clips from The Boots My Mother Gave Me soundtrack here.
AMAZON BREAKTHROUGH NOVEL AWARD QUARTER-FINALIST
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to walk through life in someone else's shoes? Strong-willed tomboy Harley LeBeau puts you in the boots her mother gave her, as she takes you along her journey of escape from an abusive childhood and the desire to find herself as she comes of age. Made to feel a burden to her father simply by her gender, Harley is determined to prove her worth and independence, leaving the small town she grew up in and the one boy who gave her a soft place to fall, Jeremiah Johnson. Torn between saving herself and abandoning her mother and younger sister, Harley chooses her own life in hopes they will choose theirs, too.
A mature, candid read for everyone. A must for women. The Boots My Mother Gave Me explores the dynamics of abuse and dysfunction, the courage to overcome, the strength in sisterhood, and the ongoing conflict and unconditional love between mothers and daughters. Climb into Charlene the Chevelle for a fast-paced story about a girl who is tough enough to survive and tender enough to learn to trust in love. ~ Goodreads | Amazon buy link
Read an excerpt from the novel, Chapter: Can't Get It Right. In this chapter, newly engaged Harley LeBeua has returned to her small hometown to help her childhood friend, Jeremiah 'Miah' Johnson get back on his feet after an injury suffered as a Marine in the military, shortly after 9/11.
Can't Get It Right
I snagged a place in the rocking chair beside the window, wrapping myself
in a blanket, settling in with a book. I looked around the room, much the
same as I remembered it years ago, minus the football trophies and pinup
posters. Well, he still had his most favorite poster, framed and hung over
his dresser, it’s dwelling since his childhood. It was the classic Farrah
Fawcett red swimsuit poster, and stunning she was, simply beautiful.
I looked out the window at my parents’ house, a speck from this distance,
my eye catching the fire escape ladder leading to Jeremiah’s room.
Mr. Johnson installed it long ago, seeing as Jeremiah slept upstairs. I think
I used it more than anyone, though. My mind busied itself with memories
of nights I sneaked in here after my dad’s rampages just to feel safe.
The first time I used the ladder was the night I found Mom hiding in
the silage wagon.
**********(beginning of flashback sequence)**********
She had put Kat and me down for bed. I was seven years old, Kat four.
It was a school night for me. Kat fell quickly asleep, but I lay there, eyes
wide open, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding as my father’s enraged
voice carried through the house for what seemed like hours, until I heard
the front door close. The house fell silent.
I got out of the bed Kat and I shared, stealthily attempting not to
wake her. I escaped the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind me, as
I ventured out into the living room to investigate.
The house was dark, except for the pole light shining through the
window by the wood stove. Something lurked behind it. I walked in its
direction, focusing my eyes, halting in my tracks at the sight of my father,
lying there behind the stove with a long rifle clasped to his chest. He said
nothing, perfectly silent and motionless. He just stared at me.Holy crap! My heart jumped up into my throat. I made a beeline for
the front door, shutting myself outside in the dark. I wasn’t a big fan of
the dark back then, fearing the illusive boogey man. But I would much
rather be outside with the boogey man than in my own house with my
father. Ironic, huh? The one person, who was supposed to make me feel
safe and secure, scared the ever-loving daylights out of me. I slipped on
my barn boots from the front porch and took off in search of Mom.
“Mom,” I whispered, inspecting the darkness. “Ma? Are you out
here?” My light hair, long and curly, whirled about in the wind. I kept
pushing it out of my face, hugging my arms to my body, attempting to
shield myself from the cool night air. My favorite pink cotton nightgown
blew in the breeze, nearly exposing my Incredible Hulk Underoos.
I heard an echo from inside the silage wagon, a big, square metal
box on wheels, which caught corn as the combine chopped and spit it
through the air. What was she doing in the silage wagon? That was for corn,
not people, my seven-year-old mind reasoned. I climbed up on the tongue
of the wagon, attempting to peek over the top, but I was too short.
“Mom?”
“Harley, go back inside,” she ordered softly. I could tell she had been
crying, her voice shaky.
“Are you okay?” I placed my hands around my mouth, as I talked into
the side of the wagon.
“I’m fine. Get back inside and go to bed. You’ve got school in the
morning.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, Harley, I’m fine. I’ll be over in a bit. Go to bed,” her tone becoming
harder.
I ran to the house as fast as my black rubber boots would carry me,
returning with a blanket. “Mom, I got you a blanket. Here it comes,” I
warned, throwing it over the side of the wagon. “I’m going to bed now.
Night, Ma. I love you.” I ran away so she wouldn’t have to worry with
scolding me again.
“I love you, too,” I heard her call after me.
I didn’t stop running until I got to Jeremiah’s house, about a half-mile
down the road. I saw the lamp glowing in his bedroom window. Climbing
up the fire escape, one nervous step at a time, I thought I would blow
right off that ladder into thin air, the wind whipping me.
Making it to the top, I peeped in and there he lay in bed, tossing his
football up in the air, catching it as it dropped. I knocked on the glass
lightly, trying to avoid alerting his dad. His attention diverted to the
window in mid-catch, his football landed on his stomach.
Seeing my reflection there in the glass, he hurried to the window,
sliding it open, offering me a hand, as he helped me through the square
opening. My breathing labored, having run all the way to his house, the
heels of my feet burning from the contact of their soft flesh against the
rubber of my boots, surely I would find blisters in the morning.
“What in the world are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m scared, Miah.” I hugged him to me.
“Why? What scared you?” He reluctantly hugged me back, thoroughly
convinced he could contract cooties if he got too close to a girl,
let alone hugged one.
“I’m just really scared and I don’t want to go home. Don’t make me
go home,” I pleaded, clutching his shoulders. He pulled away from me,
holding his finger up to his mouth, and walked toward his bedroom door.
“Dad, I’m going to bed now,” he yelled. “See you in the morning.”
“Okay, son,” Mr. Johnson reciprocated from downstairs. “Love ya,
kid. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, Dad.” He closed his bedroom door, locking it behind
him. I shivered from the cold. He closed the window, pulling the covers
back from where he had rested. “Should be all nice and toasty,” he said,
motioning for me to take his bed. “I’ll sleep in the rocking chair.”“Thanks, Miah,” I whispered as I snuggled in, finally feeling safe and
warm. He tucked the covers around me, switched the bedside lamp
off, and pulled a blanket from the foot of his bed, wrapping himself in
it, sinking into the rocking chair. The moon, full and bright, cascaded
through the window, providing a natural nightlight. He propped his feet
up on the side of the bed, finding a comfortable position in the chair, and
there we were, Jeremiah Johnson and me.
**********(end of flashback sequence)**********
“Remember when you used to climb up that thing at all hours of the
night?” his voice interrupted my memory. I looked from the ladder to
him lying there, his eyes open, studying me. I wondered how long he had
been awake. “Must feel awkward, you in the rocker and me in the bed.”
“A little. You hungry?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Embarrassed, maybe…not hungry. I’m sorry
about the other day.”
“Me too.” Our exchange followed by silence.
“Is he good to you?” I nodded my head, looking away. I didn’t know
how to approach talking about Xander with him. “Are you happy?”
“Yeah,” I answered softly, making eye contact with him.
He took a deep breath, wincing a little with his inhale. “Well, that’s all
I need to know, then.” We sat quietly, his mouth forming into a playful
smile. “Aren’t you going to ask me to be your male of honor…at the
wedding?” I broke up laughing. He braced his pillow to his chest, attempting
to hold his ribs in place while he joined me. It felt good to laugh with
him. We were going to be okay.
“So, what happened over there?” I asked, divvying up his morning
medications.
“EOD.” I looked at him puzzled. “Explosive Ordinance Disposal.
We were covering for them, guys who deactivate explosives, bombs. It
didn’t feel right, the whole situation. We started to clear out, and then,
boom. That was the last thing I heard before my body was airborne.
Don’t remember a thing from then on, until that day I saw you in the
hospital.”
“All the sedation can cause some amnesia, which might be a good
thing,” I said, handing him a cup full of pills."I do remember waking up on and off with a bunch of chords and
wires, stuff all over me, something shoved in my throat. Now, that was
unsettling.” He took the pills, washing them down with water. “I’ve had
two tours, one in Afghanistan, one in Iraq, and I’ve never felt as helpless
or scared as I did in the hospital. Why do they do that to people?”
“To save your life.”
“Good God. Can’t they find some other way? All the technology we
have. I’m telling ya, that was a horrible experience, Harley-girl. And
those damn things they had me tied down with.”
“Well, that’s because you wouldn’t quit fighting. They can’t have
you wrestling about and pulling all the things from your body that are
required for you to live,” I explained, tidying up his room. “And that tube
down your throat was a breathing tube, filling your lungs with air, keeping
you among the living.”
“Kat said you’re a nurse in the city. You like it?”
“It’s okay.”
“You still writing?
“Not so much these days. I’m trying to heed my mother’s advice and
get a real life.”
He grinned. “How’s that working out for ya?”
“Aw, I hate it, Miah,” I blurted out, surprising myself with the truth,
taken aback as my feelings revealed themselves. “It felt good to say that!”
“Say it again.”
“I hate it. I really, really hate it. That’s such a strong word. Okay, I dislike
it. Yeah, I feel better about that one, dislike. It’s so…stifling, heavy,
constrictive,” I searched for words of emphasis. Jeremiah looked out the
window deliberately, his eyes searching. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for flying pigs. Did hell freeze over and I’m the last to
hear?” he ragged. “I never thought I’d see the day Harley LeBeau took
advice from anyone on how to live her life.” I ducked my head shamefully.
Really, it was a sad thing. How did I end up here? Doing the right
thing, the responsible thing, what’s expected of me? It wasn’t a bad life,
just not the life I planned for myself.
“People change. They evolve,” I said, smiling.
“Sounds like you’ve expired,” he joked. I swatted him playfully on my
way to gather shaving supplies from the bathroom, returning with them.
His smile dissipated. “I knew this girl once. The quickest way to get herto do anything, tell her she couldn’t, she shouldn’t. She would, just to
prove you wrong.”
“Maybe I’m tired of proving myself.” I sat beside him on the bed, putting
a bowl of hot water, shaving cream, and a razor on the bedside stand.
I pushed the button on the bedrail, sitting him upright.
“You can’t please everybody, Harley. It’s not your responsibility to
make your mom happy. You can’t live your life for her.”
“I do want to make Mom happy. I always have. That’s why I tried
so hard, pushed myself in school, academically, athletically, everything.
She had enough disappointment at home, she didn’t need any trouble
from me,” I said. “But I make my own choices. Nobody twists my
arm.” I dipped a washcloth into the water. “Lay your head back,” I
requested, a familiar scenario. I became highly skilled in grooming him
at the hospital.
“You don’t have to do this. Now that I can sit up, all I need is a mirror,”
he said.
“Oh, so you don’t like my shave?”
“I didn’t say that. What man doesn’t like being catered to?”
“Well, then lay your head back.” He did as I instructed. “I kind of
like it. Maybe I’ll become a barber, for a while.” He smiled, shaking his
head. “I even picked up a barber brush yesterday at Calvin’s. You remember,
down on Main, catty-corner to Benny’s, Calvin’s Barber Shop. ‘Hair
Today, Gone Tomorrow,’” I quoted the slogan that had been painted on
his window for years.
“Dad and I used to go there once a month to get our ears lowered.” He
grew silent with the memory. I held the moist towel to his face, allowing
it to soften his stubble before removing it, applying the shaving cream
with the brush as Calvin had instructed, softly, thoroughly. “That feels
good,” he said.
“I miss your dad. I wish he could be here, to see what you’ve done
with your life. He’d be so proud.”
“Ya think?”
“No doubt.” I worked the grain of his hair with my razor.
“Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he? He always had a way of making me feel
larger than life.” I tenderly scolded him to hold his lip still as I shaved
above it. He waited until I finished before continuing, “He’d get a kick
out of this, tomboy Harley delicately shaving my face.”
“I can get rid of the delicately,” I teased, coaxing his head toward me
with my hands. “Here, let me have the other side.” I felt his eyes on me,
watching me as I attempted to manipulate the razor skillfully, with just
enough, but not too much pressure against his skin. “When are the guys
coming out from your recon unit?”
“It’ll be a little while. They’re still on assignment,” he spoke tightlipped,
as I continued to shave him, my eyes focused on his jaw line,
freeing it of stubble. It was square, rugged, and exquisitely handsome. I
loved shaving his face. It was intimate, really. Maybe there’s something
to be said about the natural instincts of animals to groom each other. It’s
truly bonding.
“What?” I asked, unable to ignore his eyes taking me in, as I moved
down to his neck, shaving it up toward his face with the grain.
“You still do that…with your lip, bite the inside of it when you concentrate.”
I annihilated one last stretch of stubble, wiping at the residual shaving
cream. Filling my hands with aftershave, I lightly tapped his face and
neck with the soothing concoction, my hands resting a little too long on
his face at times. I had to remind myself to pull them away.
“I missed you,” he said softly, as if the sentiment escaped his lips
without his knowing. “Sorry.” He turned his head from me, clearing his
throat. “So, why am I upstairs?” He changed the subject immediately,
looking around the room. “I mean, I’m not a nurse or anything, but even
I know the guy who can barely walk might not perform his best on a
flight of stairs.”
“There’s a method to my madness,” I assured, cleaning up the shaving
supplies. “Studies say people recover better in their natural habitat.”
“Sure,” he said, making fun, “because I didn’t live in the whole house.
I lived in my bedroom.”
“There’s a bit more to it than that.” I giggled, swatting him on the leg
with the washcloth, as I walked to the bathroom to rinse out the shaving
basin. “It’s about the feng shui, your room is perfect, it has great direction
and natural sunlight pushing through the window every morning, and it
has good energy, perfect to promote healing.” I returned to his bedside,
fluffing the pillow behind him. “Also, it’s about identification. This was
your room when you were a sweaty, hormonal, adolescent jock, strong,
indestructible, and driven. So it’s the perfect place for you to identify those feelings and use them in your recovery. You’ll need that part ofyourself when we start rehab in two weeks.”
“Two weeks? I can’t lay in this bed two more weeks.”
“You have no choice, sweet cheeks.” I chuckled at the moniker to
which he grinned, rolling his eyes. “Strict orders, no pressure on the
lower back for at least a month, two weeks in the hospital, two weeks at
home. Enjoy it while it lasts. Think of yourself as man’s best friend, your
primary tasks, eat, sleep, sit, and lie down. We’ll work on sick’em and
fetch when you get on your feet.” I smiled, pushing the button on his
bed, causing him to lie back. He grimaced slightly with the movement,
finally settling into a comfortable space.
“I think you missed your calling, Harley-girl. You would have made a
good drill sergeant, as many orders as you’re throwing around.”
I ignored his rebuttal. “What will it be this morning, a book, a movie,
video game, peace and quiet…what’s your poison?” I inquired how he
wanted to pass the time.
“How about some music? You have any songs I haven’t heard?”
“I haven’t played in a while, and my guitar is at Gram’s,” I quickly
dismissed.
“My old Fender is in the closet, amp and everything.”
“No way!” I helped myself to the contents of the closet. “I remember
when you guys…you, Terry, Zac and Danny…were going to start a
band.”
“Yep, we wanted to be musicians because musicians got the girls.”
“Like you needed any help with the girls,” I added, tuning the guitar.
“I do have this one I was thinking about last night.”
“Let’s hear it,” he said.
Even though I hadn’t played in a long time, I went with the riding a
bike adage, hoping my fingers would remember the chords. They did,
unsure at first, settling into the rhythm, playing my newest theme song.
Jeremiah listened intently, as I sang along:
Can’t get it right, I’m always wrong. Think I know what I like, Then I want it gone. Don’t wanna be rich, Don’t wanna be poor. Don’t wanna be a bitch, Or a nice girl anymore. Complicated, Aggravated, Being me gets me so frustrated. Wanna give you everything you’re missing in your life, I just can’t get it right.
Brooklyn James: Website | Amazon | Facebook | Pandora | iTunes | Twitter Giveaway!
Brooklyn is giving away a copy of The Boots My Mother Gave Me. Just leave a comment!
No one creates realms like New York Times bestselling author Anne Bishop. Now in a thrilling new fantasy series, enter a world inhabited by the Others, unearthly entities—vampires and shape-shifters among them—who rule the Earth and whose prey are humans. As a cassandra sangue, or blood prophet, Meg Corbyn can see the future when her skin is cut—a gift that feels more like a curse. Meg’s Controller keeps her enslaved so he can have full access to her visions. But when she escapes, the only safe place Meg can hide is at the Lakeside Courtyard—a business district operated by the Others. Shape-shifter Simon Wolfgard is reluctant to hire the stranger who inquires about the Human Liaison job. First, he senses she’s keeping a secret, and second, she doesn’t smell like human prey. Yet a stronger instinct propels him to give Meg the job. And when he learns the truth about Meg and that she’s wanted by the government, he’ll have to decide if she’s worth the fight between humans and the Others that will surely follow. ~ Goodreads
Review:
*sigh* Another new series that I adored but will have a tough time reviewing because everything I love (& even my nitpicks) could be a spoiler. First I direct you to these two more detailed, non spoilery, reviews by Wendy - The Midnight Garden & KT - A Book Obsession who convinced me not only to read Written in Red but that it was hardcover purchase worthy. It was.
My attempt at a non spoilery review:
Written and Red reminded me so much of Ilona Andrews' Kate Daniels series. Like Andrews, Bishop has given us incredibly detailed world building and a complex cast of characters that make up her new, The Others, urban fantasy series.
This is definitely urban fantasy but with creatures like shifters, vampires, elementals (that were way cool!), ponies and more, it had an almost magical quality to me. Instead of feeling bombarded by each creature and their characteristics I couldn't learn enough. I loved each and every one of them.
The Others control this world. Humans just live in it because the The Others allow it.
“We are the tenants, not the landlords, a temple priest once said at a weekly gathering. We only borrow the air we breathe and the food we eat and the water we drink” pg. 50
I LOVED how this was portrayed. The various creatures retain their animalistic qualities. They eat human meat. Nothing is sugar coated but they also form bonds and have a fascinating social structure. There is so much I would like to say about this aspect but it = spoilers. Just go read the book lol
Meg, a human, is a protagonist that you are unsure of at first. She comes off as weak but as a blood prophet, owned and mistreated by people who would like to profit from her unique ability to predict future events through the cutting her skin, you realize that her strength comes from just being able to stay alive. This girl is a fighter! I have high hopes for where this character is headed in future installments.
There isn't really any romance to speak of but the bond Meg begins to form with The Others, and particularly with Simon, the wolf pack leader, is so sweet that I didn't even care. Again I sense a big payoff in this regard as the series progresses. And frankly it was nice to read a series that focused on different types of relationships and friendships rather then emphasizing only the romance.
I do have a few nitpicks though. There were several alternating POV's which worked for me except when it was the POV of a human cop named Monty. I just didn't care what he was thinking. I believe his character was used to help explain a lot about The Others and their ways but every time I was taken away from Meg, Simon and company I got bored. It does all tie together and is important to the plot but meh...
Also, there are a few villains. Some have the potential to scare the bejeebus out of me with their evil-ness as they continue to develop but one in particular had me rolling my eyes. The motivations felt weak at best and the character’s actions were cheesy.
Final thoughts: If you're looking for an un-romantic view of the creatures that go bump in the night, AWESOME characters and rich, detailed world building this is the series for you. After I finished Written in Red I felt like I was saying goodbye to family. I felt close to everyone and invested in their outcomes.
New to the Heartbreakers Tour? All this week I featured YA/NA authors – from self-published and small press to traditional publishers, debut authors to bestsellers. Get swept away with these tales of first love, melting kisses and of course – heartbreak.
There’s a great variety to choose from so I hope you enjoy discovering these authors as much as I have. I have lots of reading ahead!
Please follow along and be sure to enter the the awesome giveaway for a FREE KINDLE + EBOOKS from the Heartbreakers Blog Tour Authors!
I have FOUR authors today to close out the tour! Let’s get started & don’t forget that giveaway at the end of this post!
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Jen McConnel: The Secret of Isobel Key (Bloomsbury Spark, 2013) | Daughter of Chaos (Month9Books, March 2014)
The Secret of Isobel key: Lou is in the middle of a quarter-life crisis. Fresh out of college, she’s unemployed and unsure of herself. But when she gets the chance to escape to Scotland with her best friend, it could be the answer to her quest for self-discovery. The trip is not at all what she expected, especially when her tour guide turns out to be the dreamy historian Brian, and together they embark on a hunt for information about Isobel Key, a woman accused of witchcraft in the seventeenth century. They set out to learn the truth of the condemned witch, but Lou isn’t prepared for the knowledge that awaits her. She must face her own demons if she has any hope of righting the wrongs of the past. Flashing between seventeenth century Scotland and a contemporary romance, THE SECRET OF ISOBEL KEY is a mystery that will please readers of all ages. Daughter of Chaos: There comes a time in every witch's life when she must choose her path. Darlena's friends have already chosen, so why is it so hard for her to make up her mind? Now, Darlena is out of time. Under pressure from Hecate, the Queen of all witches, Darlena makes a rash decision to choose Red magic, a path no witch in her right mind would dare take. As a Red witch, she will be responsible for chaos and mayhem, drawing her deep into darkness. Will the power of Red magic prove too much for Darlena, or will she learn to control it before it's too late?
Karen: Daughter of Chaos sounds fantastic! Darlena sounds pretty powerful and frightening lol What are her powers as a Red Witch and Daughter of Chaos? Jen: Thank you! Darlena’s not entirely sure what her new powers entail, but being a Red Witch has made her stronger than anyone she’s ever met. She could destroy the world if she wanted to, and that’s what some of the gods are hoping for. But Lena’s a wild card, and she’s not happy doing what people expect. :)
Karen:Who is your author crush and how have they inspired your writing? Jen: There are so many authors I look up to and admire, but the first who comes to mind is Jennifer Armentrout. I’m in awe of the how prolific she is, and I love her YA and NA. I got to meet her last summer at UtopYaCon, and I made a total fangirl fool of myself, but she was epically gracious.
Karen: Both The Secret of Isobel Key and Daughter of Chaos sound AH-mazing! She also hit the cover lottery! Both are gorgeous!
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Eileen Cook: The Year of Mistaken Discoveries (Simon Pulse, February 25, 2014)
Friendship is a bond stronger than secrets in this novel from the author of The Almost Truth and Unraveling Isobel. As first graders, Avery and Nora bonded over a special trait they shared — they were both adopted. Years later, Avery is smart, popular, and on the cheerleading squad, while Nora spends her time on the fringes of school society, wearing black, reading esoteric poetry, and listening to obscure music. They never interact, until the night Nora approaches Avery at a party, saying it’s urgent. She tells Avery that she thought she found her birth mom — but it turned out to be a cruel lie. Avery feels for Nora, but returns to her friends at the party. Then Avery learns that Nora over-dosed on pills. Left to cope with Nora’s loss and questioning her own actions, Avery decides to honor her friend by launching a search for her own birth mother. Aided by Brody, a friend of Nora’s who is also looking for a way to respect Nora’s legacy, Avery embarks on an emotional quest. But what she’s really seeking might go far deeper than just genetics.
Karen:Your heroines are often described as "sassy". What makes for a good sassy character? Eileen: Confidence. When I was a teen I had a lot of things going for me- great friends, a wicked sense of humor, I was smart, however, what I focused on was everything I didn’t do well. I wasted a lot of time and energy worrying about what people thought of me. If I could go back and do it again I would tell myself to lighten up. I admire characters who find their inner sassy and move toward being more confident in who they are.
Karen:Do you believe in love-at-first-sight, or soul-mates? Eileen: I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe you can know quite early that the person you are with is the type of person you could be in love with. I think that everyone has a soul mate, but I don’t believe that there is only one. I’ve seen too many people who have lost their soul mate, but been able to find love again.
Karen: Eileen is one of the few authors from this tour that I’ve read (& enjoyed) before. My copy of Getting Revenge on Lauren Wood still has a prominent place on my shelf because I can’t bear to pass it on. The cover makes me giggle every time.
***
Tina Bustamante: As Waters Gone By (Leap Books, 2013)
Secrets in the Light... When Ellie moves in with her aunt on Orcas Island after her mother's death, she doesn't expect to have one of the most incredible summers of her life. She doesn't expect to restore a mysterious lighthouse that holds an important key to her past, or to rehabilitate a crazy dog, or to see a strange man who may or may not be a ghost. And the last thing she expects is to meet Will Larson, who flips her summer upside down. But, when Will's past and her own collide, will their relationship survive the secrets they both conceal, or will these unshared secrets tear them apart? Can Ellie gain the courage to uncover the truth of who she really is and finally find a place where she belongs, or will she choose to remain an outsider?
Karen:What gifts would your characters, Ellie and Will from As Waters Gone By, give each other for Valentine's Day? Tina: They'd give each other thoughtful gifts. Will would probably give Ellie an old version of Jane Eyre that he's searched all over town to find, and Ellie would put together a really cool, romantic date - and would also give Will a new book - Something random and thoughtful, and witty.
Karen:What is the craziest thing you've ever done in the name of love? Tina: I packed up my home, sold my cars, filled a 40ft container, and moved to Chile.
Karen:Be sure to check out TIna’s website. It’s a wonderful mix of books, life and her adventure’s building a home in Chile.
***
Sara Hantz: In the Blood (Entangled Teen, 2013)
For seventeen years Jed Franklin’s life was normal. Then his father was charged with the abuse and murder of four young boys and normal became a nightmare.
His mom’s practically a walking zombie, he’s lost most of his friends, and the press camps out on his lawn. The only things that keep him sane are his little sis; his best friend and dream girl, Summer; and the alcohol he stashes in his room. But after Jed wakes up from a total blackout to discover a local kid has gone missing—a kid he was last seen talking to—he’s forced to face his greatest fear: that he could somehow be responsible. In a life that’s spiraled out of control, Jed must decide if he chooses his own destiny with Summer by his side or if the violent urges that plagued his father are truly in the blood.
Karen: Who is your author crush and how have they inspired your writing?
Sarah: Elizabeth Scott. Living Dead Girl made such an impact on me and made me realize that it’s ok to write about edgy and unpleasant issues.
Karen:What’s the craziest thing you feel that you’ve ever done in the name of love? Sara: A spur of the moment wedding, with McDonalds as the wedding lunch.
Karen: Love that! My husband I eloped in FL, then spent the day at Busch Gardens, ending the day with a generic cake from the grocery store.
Thank you Jen, Eileen, Tina & Sara for joining me today, and to Judith for hosting this tour! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone – may your day be free of heartbreak lol
Follow the tour! & don’t forget to enter the giveaway! a Rafflecopter giveaway Participating Authors: B.A. Binns: Minority of One (All The Colors Of Love, 2014) Tina Bustamante: As Waters Gone By (Leap Books, 2013) Eileen Cook: The Year of Mistaken Discoveries (Simon Pulse, 2014) D.G. Driver: Cry of the Sea (Fire & Ice Young Adult Novels, 2014) Christine Duval: Positively Mine (Bloomsbury Spark, 2013) Laurie J. Edwards: writing as Erin Johnson. Grace and the Guiltless: Wanted Book 1 (Curious Fox, 2014) Janet Gurtler: 16 Things I Thought Were True (Sourcebooks Fire, 2014) Sara Hantz: In the Blood (Entangled Teen, 2013) Brenda Hiatt: Starstruck (Createspace, 2013) Denise Jaden: Never Enough (Simon Pulse, 2012) Jenny Kaczorowski: The Art of Falling (Bloomsbury Spark, 2013) Jen McConnel: The Secret of Isobel Key (Bloomsbury Spark, 2013) Jeri Smith-Ready: This Side of Salvation (Simon Pulse, 2014) Judith Tewes: TBA (Bloomsbury Spark, 2014)
Welcome to Saturday Spotlight. A feature hosted by Tina’s Book Reviews as a way of shining the light on Indie/Debut/Self Published authors. Each week I’ll have a guest post written by a featured author.
Join me in welcoming Jessica Scott, author of the Contemporary Military Romance Coming Home series, to the blog today.
Thanks so much for having me here at For What It’s Worth Reviews.
It’s been almost a year since my debut novel launched the return of Loveswept as a digital first imprint and what an exciting year it’s been. When I look back, it’s hard to believe everything this year has brought: lessons learned, laughs and lots of angst.
As a career army officer, military life has influenced every aspect of my writing from my characters to my settings. The theme behind my Coming Home novels is just that: soldiers dealing with how deploying to war changed them. As someone who has dealt personally with both my own experience in coming home from war and my husband’s multiple returns home, it’s something that is deeply personal to me. I try to be cautious when dealing with issues that might bother readers but the overall response to my debut novel BECAUSE OF YOU has been positive.
My 2nd book UNTIL THERE WAS YOU comes out on October 8th and honestly, I’m a nervous wreck about it. It was a tough, tough book to write, primarily because both the hero and heroine are army captains. That made world building more of a challenge because there was no “new” character that the experienced characters could explain things to. But just like Shane & Jen in BECAUSE OF YOU, Evan & Claire in UNTIL THERE WAS YOU have to deal with life after the war.
Below is a sneak peak!
Fort Hood, Texas
July 2005
Captain Evan Loehr was having a bad day. Granted, it could have been worse. It could always be worse. But as he pulled his Stetson out of its carrying case and dusted it off, he contemplated the consequences for blowing off the mandatory fun of tonight’s hail and farewell. He was not in the mood. Not in the least. Not when he was eight weeks out from leaving on his third deployment and was up to his neck in maintenance issues and, well, other issues that he’d never in a million years thought he’d have to deal with as a company commander.
There were things he simply did not want to know about his soldiers.
But his battalion commander said they were going to the hail and farewell, so Evan was going to the hail and farewell. The brutal Texas summer sun blazed overhead, baking the earth and melting the asphalt beneath his shoes. He hoped like hell there was air-conditioning in the bar.
More, he hoped none of his more illustrious soldiers decided to attend tonight’s shindig. He’d been in command for less than a month, and so far at least one of his troopers had spent a night in jail every single weekend.
Stepping into the bar, he walked into a blanket of darkness, tinged with cigarette smoke and a bouncy country song blaring at him from all sides. The dance floor was surrounded by a low wall and illuminated with flickering strobe lights. He couldn’t believe they were having a military function at a bar where there would be civilians. Normally military functions like these were in separate rooms at somewhat classier establishments, not in rowdy country bars. He wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea, but then again, he wasn’t in charge of planning the event. Evan made his way to the bar, needing something a hell of a lot stronger than a beer to get him through tonight.
* * *
“You realize it looks bad for you to hang out with your old enlisted buddy, don’t you?”
Claire Montoya looked up at her oldest friend, Sergeant First Class Reza Iaconelli, whom she was no longer supposed to be friends with now that she’d earned her commission two years before. “You’re the only person—officer or enlisted—in this brigade I know. I don’t really care what it looks like.”
“Yeah, well, my commander might have something to say about that if he gets the wrong idea. The guy must have been potty trained at gunpoint.”
“That uptight, huh?” Claire grinned and sipped her beer. She’d been in the Reaper Brigade Combat team for all of three weeks, and Reza was the one person she trusted to have her back. “Where is your illustrious commander, anyway?”
“Working, as always.” Reza grinned, and it was pure evil. “You’ll never guess on what.”
Claire braced for the worst. She could only imagine. “Do I want to know?”
He tossed back the rest of his beer. “Apparently, there are eight new cases of chlamydia in our company. So the battalion commander has tasked him to find out A, where they came from, and B, what he’s going to do to prevent any more outbreaks.”
Claire choked on a swallow of Dos Equis that went down the wrong pipe. It was a long minute before her lungs were clear and she could breathe again, let alone talk. “That is wrong on so, so many levels,” she said when she could speak.
“Speak of the devil.” Reza turned and pointed his beer at someone behind Claire. She twisted on the edge of the wall that circled the dance floor, prepared to meet someone starched and rigid. “Evan Loehr, Claire Montoya. You two mingle. I’m getting another beer.”
She was going to kill Reza. He was forever trying to get her to hook up the way he did: with all the discretion of a dog in heat. She stared daggers into his back as he walked off. He never quite understood why she wasn’t into dating. Her track record with men sucked, and she was not about to add to that losing streak tonight. She was getting ready to deploy in less than two months with the brigade. She didn’t need a one-night stand with one of the company commanders to complicate things.
Not that he didn’t look like the perfect candidate for a one-night dance with the devil. If she did those sort of things. Which she didn’t. But still, this man didn’t look remotely the way she’d expected he would. His shoulders were wide and solid, and beneath that starched white shirt, his chest looked powerful. She could easily imagine those arms wrapped around her, holding her tight while he . . . Down, girl. She might not have moved from her spot on the low wall surrounding the dance floor, but her hormones had snapped to attention, that was for sure.
The way Reza had described him made her imagine a man who would show up in military uniform despite the Texas casual dress code.
He seemed out of place in this smoky, seedy bar. This guy seemed stiff and rigid, as if he’d rather be anywhere but here at this moment. The top button of his shirt exposed the strong line of his throat, revealing dark hair and a glimpse of smooth skin and carved shadows. Beneath the First Cav Stetson, his hair was black and cut close to the strong line of his neck. There was confidence in the way he moved, a raw power that wrapped around Claire like the smoke in the bar and drew her close.
Claire stuck out her hand, needing something to distract her from her deviant thoughts. Small talk ought to do the trick. “Nice to meet you. Evan, right?”
“Yeah.” His hand was rough and strong as her fingers slid into his. “How did you get the last name Montoya with hair like that?”
“I have no idea.” Oddly self-conscious, she tucked her red hair behind one ear. “So you’re Reza’s commander?”
“For the last two months.”
“And your first order of business is dealing with sexually transmitted diseases?” His scowled fiercely and Claire laughed out loud, despite her best efforts not to.
“Glad you think it’s funny.“ His voice rumbled over her skin, holding the promise of dark fantasies and primitive yearnings. It had been too long since she’d been with a man. Being around him made her want to do reckless things.
“I’ve never been a commander, but I hope I never have to deal with what you’re dealing with right now.” Evan looked so disgruntled, she smiled. She didn’t know him. She shouldn’t be amused by his discomfort, but the situation was ridiculous. Plus, the conversation came with the added bonus of locking down her hormones. Nothing said sexy like diseases, she thought dryly.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the low wall next to her hips and dragging his hands over his face. “I can’t believe that this is what I’m dealing with. Not weapons training. Not running patrols or shooting bad guys. Sexually transmitted diseases.”
“Well, commander, what’s your plan for dealing with the rash of diseased penises in your formation?”
Evan groaned and buried his face in his hands, then took a long pull off his own beer. Reza emerged from the crowd and clapped him on the shoulder. “I already took care of it. I sent Ramirez to the clinic to pick up a case of rubbers. They’re sitting on the counter in the company ops.”
“I should make them an inspectable item and have every soldier keep one in their wallet,” Evan grumbled. Claire laughed so hard, she almost fell from her seat on the wall. Evan gave her a pointed look.
“I’m sorry,“ she said, trying to stop laughing before she permanently damaged his pride. “But you should see your face.”
He took a pull off his beer. Claire watched his throat move, enthralled by the motion of sleek muscle and dark skin. “I feel like I should have a formation and make the platoon sergeants demonstrate how to put on a condom the correct way.”
“As one of your platoon sergeants, I’ll be the first to refuse that order,” Reza said before taking another drink.
Finally Evan laughed and the sound twisted Claire’s insides, teasing away the tension and the fatigue and the bone-crushing pressure of being the new girl. Something warm unfurled against her heart, like hot steam rising from a hidden vent. Something that told her she needed to stay far away from the source of the warmth.
* * *
The formal portion of the evening was about to get started, and Evan found himself regretting that. He was enjoying himself immensely, a feeling both surprising and unexpected. Claire Montoya was proving a sexy detour for the night, and while Evan didn’t do one-night stands, he was not above taking her to a quiet corner of the bar. Her mouth drew him. She had the kind of wide, full lips that were made for kissing.
He wondered how his big platoon sergeant knew her, but couldn’t drum up the energy to ask. He simply hoped he wasn’t spending the evening flirting with one of Reza’s castoffs. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that Sergeant Iaconelli spent his free time curled up with a bottle or a woman.
“So other than unprotected sex, what do you think about being a commander?” Claire asked. Her breath kissed his skin as she leaned close enough so she didn’t have to shout.
Evan leaned in, fighting the urge to lift her hair away from her ear. “I love it. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. But it’s the most stressful, too.”
“You don’t seem like you relax very often.”
He shrugged, sipping his beer. “I don’t. There’s not a lot of time for relaxing when you’re getting ready to take a company downrange into combat.”
“Guess they’re getting ready to do the introductions.” Claire tipped her chin toward the stage. “Guess I need to get ready to smile and wave for the crowd.”
Evan frowned. “You’re a soldier?”
She smiled, and her green eyes glittered in the smoky bar. “Yeah.”
There was a sinking feeling in Evan’s stomach. “What rank are you?”
She frowned. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
She grinned, and it was wicked. “What, afraid you’ve spent the evening flirting with an enlisted woman?”
“I don’t date army women as a rule.” Evan breathed out sharply. “Dirt and dust on deployments aren’t exactly great conditions for love and sex.”
“Pretty stiff restrictions on letting yourself relax, huh?”
“Everything in my life comes with conditions,” he said softly. “Besides, you don’t look like you’d be in the army.” He felt a flush creep up his neck as he heard the rudeness of his own words, but Claire didn’t look offended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
“Relax. I’m a captain.” She looked up at him, studying him quietly. “You should see your face. You were really worried, weren’t you?”
Evan couldn’t get the tight knot in his chest to relax. She had stunning red hair and green eyes cast in dark, smoky shadows. A body that took Evan to a dark and primal place. Her dark red hair tumbled down her back and she looked like a woman who spent more time at the mall than on the weapons range. He couldn’t picture her in uniform. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to care that he had been worried about her rank.
“I’m prior service. Did a stint as enlisted before I went to Officer Candidate School down at Fort Benning.”
She bumped her shoulder against his, her eyes sparkling. “You really need to relax. It’s mandatory fun, and you don’t look like you’re having any.”
He turned his attention to the dais, where the brigade commander was introducing new folks to the rest of the brigade.
Her hand on his forearm dragged his attention away from the stage. He glanced down at her fingers, long and slim against his skin, burning him. “This is a really big deal for you, isn’t it?”
“No, just a surprise.”
A big surprise. One that would complicate things tremendously.
“Captain Claire Montoya.” The brigade commander called Claire’s name, and she hopped off the wall without a backwards glance at him. “Claire hails to us from . . .”
Evan stopped listening, lost in his own thoughts, which were a hell of a lot more than unprofessional. He waited until she was up on the stage before he melted into the dark safety of the bar, putting a stop to what would have been a very big mistake.
Jessica Scott returns with an all-new contemporary eBook original romance, following last fall’s release of her sizzling debut novel Because of You. He plays by the rules, she’s not afraid to break them. Now these two strong-willed army captains will prove that opposites attract . . . A by-the-book captain with a West Point background, Captain Evan Loehr refuses to mix business with pleasure—except for an unguarded instance years ago when he succumbed to the deep sensuality of redheaded beauty Claire Montoya. From that moment on, though, Evan has been at odds with her, through two deployments to Iraq and back again. But when he is asked to train a team prepping for combat alongside Claire, battle-worn Evan is in for the fight of his life. Strong, gutsy, and loyal, Captain Claire Montoya has worked hard to earn the rank on her chest. In Evan, Claire sees a rigid officer who puts the rules before everything else—including his people. When the mission forces them together, Claire soon discovers that there is more to Evan than meets the eye. He’s more than the rank on his chest; he’s a man with dark secrets and deep longings. For all their differences, Evan and Claire share two crucial passions: their country and each other.
You can order UNTIL THERE WAS YOU at these ebookstores or wherever ebooks are sold! B & N | Amazon | Powell's| iBookstore
Jessica Scott is a career army officer, mother of two daughters, three cats, three dogs and two escape-artists hamsters, wife to a career NCO and wrangler of all things stuffed and fluffy. She has commanded two companies, served in Germany, Korea, Fort Hood and Iraq, and been lucky not to get fired. She is a terrible cook and an even worse housekeeper, but she’s a pretty good shot with her assigned weapon. Somehow, her children are pretty well adjusted and her husband still loves her, despite burned water and a messy house. You can find her online at Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Jessica is giving away two digital eARC’s of UNTIL THERE WAS YOU. Fill out the form at the end of this post! Giveaway open until Saturday 8/25 at 11:59 PM ET. Winner announced Sunday 8/26 Winners are Ann C & Melanie R!
Welcome to Saturday Spotlight. A feature hosted by Tina’s Book Reviews as a way of shining the light on Indie/Debut/Self Published authors. Each week I’ll have a guest post written by a featured author.
Welcome author Brooklyn James.
I enjoyed reading Tammara Webber’s guest blog in the Saturday Spotlight. A few parts even made me giggle, as my writing story correlates with her journey of self-publishing. I have written for as long as I can remember…songs, poetry, short stories, screenplays. However, I always thought it too fun to actually be successful. You know, not many of us are fortunate enough to make our vacation our vocation. So, I forged ahead with ‘Plan B.’ In the words of my mother, I “got an education, and a real job with a 401K and an insurance plan.” She couldn’t have been more proud…lol.
I have a few songwriting credits in Nashville, Los Angeles and Austin (my current home). I’m a regular in the live music scene here in town, as part of an acoustic duo. We have a plethora of originals and cover tunes. January 2010 rolled around and I had enough money to allocate to an album of my originals. At the same time, I made a New Year’s resolution to get rid of some excess baggage in providing my own Creative Therapy, by virtue of written expression. Apparently I needed the therapy. At the end of January, I had written a one-hundred-thousand-word manuscript, my first novel, The Boots My Mother Gave Me, a coming of age tale about a young girl who overcomes an abusive childhood.
We were in studio at the time with production of the album. Inspired in the same vein, I started to notice my song titles matched varying chapter titles within the book. It was then I decided I would combine the two, as they were created from a cohesive stream of consciousness. Movies have soundtracks, why not a book? “Brooklyn James' soundtrack to her novel The Boots My Mother Gave Me does more than give a clever feminist twist to the title. Her songs serve as chapters themselves, underlining James' deft ability as a storyteller and songwriter” –Margaret Moser, The Austin Chronicle
I sent my manuscript off to an editor, who believed I had a great story that could be successful. Much like Tammara, I submitted my story to multiple agents and set up agent consultations at a few conferences. The book and album combination threw off many of them. I had a few perked ears, but needless to say, ultimately, no offers.
Being DYI minded as a music artist, I thought, I’ll just do it on my own. The resources are there, why not? I self-published in November 2010 through Amazon’s Create Space. By March 2011, The Boots My Mother Gave Me slid into the Quarter Finalist position in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. That was the moment I thought, Maybe I really can write. The book and album continue to sell online, and in brick & mortar stores. It never ceases to amaze me how readers, and music lovers alike, will take a chance on an independent artist, allowing us to feel as though we are as valid as our mainstream counterparts. I most certainly agree with Tammara; readers are, have always been, and will continue to be the true gatekeepers.
Due to my readership, I have been nonstop, since releasing two more books, book 1 (Vigilare) & 2 (Vigilare: Hell Hound) in the paranormal thriller trilogy, Vigilare. I have two more books in draft stages currently, along with production of a new music soundtrack to accompany those novels, one to be released fall 2012, the other spring 2013. That’s another great thing I love about readers, if they like your writing, they will transcend with you along genres. I have two genres I feel most comfortable writing, women’s fiction (chick lit/coming of age/contemporary romance) and thrillers (scientific and paranormal). With one common thread: there’s always an underlying romance, and at least one steamy scene. I grew up sneaking a peak at my mother’s romance novels, what can I say? Thank you readers for inspiring and encouraging our stories! And thank you Karen for hosting me!
Finding Brooklyn James: Website (www.brooklyn-james.com)
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NEW RELEASE—Vigilare: Hell Hound, book #2 in Vigilare paranormal thriller trilogy.
A red hue emerges, where once it was only emerald green!
Now accepting of her position, Vigilare is propelled into a twist on Greek Mythology's Cerberus―Hell Hound―a rival Vigilare with fire capabilities. ETNA harbored her blood. Have they created a monster they cannot control? Along with her motley crew, the dashing Detective Tony Gronkowski, wily hematologist Dr. Godfrey and suspicious Emily Truly, Vigilare comes face to face with her past in the form of the hellish one.
As the city of New Orleans and its Gambini mafia family are under siege with Vigilare drones, the power hungry Emily wastes no time in solidifying her place in the ranks when she exposes Vigilare to the menacing Hell Hound. Newcomer, Maxim Kiesel, the steel blue-eyed prodigy graced with icy powers may very well be the antidote, or the ultimate traitor.
Will Vigilare give up her role, sacrificing her immortality to stop Hell Hound? The second in a trilogy, Vigilare: Hell Hound―when power is given, the true testament of one's character will rise.
Vigilare, book #1 in Vigilare paranormal thriller trilogy.
Where one system fails, another never gives up!
Detectives Gina DeLuca and Tony Gronkowski investigate a string of murders among Vanguard's most loathsome population, rapists and pedophiles. With fed up citizens, the city is on the verge of a vigilante uprising in support of their seemingly superhuman Vigilare with the sparkling emerald green eyes. Friend or foe, Vanguard Police Department has a job to do in bringing the vigilant one to justice, causing their own internal battle with right and wrong, immoral and just.
Following their leads, Detectives DeLuca and Gronkowski find themselves pulled into a mysterious world of super blood and super powers, and closer to the Vigilare than ever expected.
It's a race to the finish between Detectives DeLuca and Gronkowski and the Vigilare to figure out who she is and why. The first in a trilogy. Vigilare—the one who watches over—comes to light.
The Boots My Mother Gave Me, book & original music soundtrack.
AMAZON BREAKTHROUGH NOVEL AWARD QUARTER-FINALIST
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to walk through life in someone else's shoes?
Strong-willed tomboy Harley LeBeau puts you in the boots her mother gave her, as she takes you along her journey of escape from an abusive childhood and the desire to find herself as she comes of age. Made to feel a burden to her father simply by her gender, Harley is determined to prove her worth and independence, leaving the small town she grew up in and the one boy who gave her a soft place to fall, Jeremiah Johnson. Torn between saving herself and abandoning her mother and younger sister, Harley chooses her own life in hopes they will choose theirs, too.
A mature, candid read for everyone. A must for women. The Boots My Mother Gave Me explores the dynamics of abuse and dysfunction, the courage to overcome, the strength in sisterhood, and the ongoing conflict and unconditional love between mothers and daughters. Climb into Charlene the Chevelle for a fast-paced story about a girl who is tough enough to survive and tender enough to learn to trust in love.
GIVEAWAY!
Brooklyn is giving away one e-copy (via Smashwords) of The Boots My Mother Gave Me & Vigilare to one lucky winner. Leave a comment with a way to contact you if you win - email/twitter handle etc.
Welcome to the random ramblings of a reader, armature baker, & inflexible yogi. I'm a lover of good food, TV, music & all things nature. My favorite thing is being a dog mom to @Ripley_kai_yay
