Friday, November 29, 2013

Blog Tour, Giveaway & Review ~ The Virgin Charmer by Rachel A Olson

Tite: The Virgin Charmer (The Triple Goddess Trilogy: Book One)

Author: Rachel A Olson

Genre: Paranormal Romance


Hope Richards has only ever known the life of a big city girl. When her boss gives her an ultimatum, she decided to try out the country life during her forced vacation. After falling in love with a mysterious old mansion on the edge of a town that time forgot, Hope finds herself caught up in a whirlwind of someone else's crazy love obsession, and realizes in the middle of it all how lacking her own life is in that department. Hope is faced with a decision: return to the mundane life she thought was her passion, or find a way to experience something far stronger that she secretly yearns for.


~Author Bio~

Somewhere amidst her forty-hour job and playtime with her three-year-old, Rachel finds time to walk the streets of worlds only existing on manmade paper. She resides in small college town Northwestern Nebraska with her young son, just a few blocks from a city park, the public schools, and her parents. She enjoys socializing with adults, sipping strawberry wine, and head banging to music that doesn't carry a beat worth the effort of rock star hair slinging.
"The paranormal world is a much more desired realm. There's no limit to possibilities, no comparison to probabilities, no concept of actualities. There's no solid platform for racism, judgment, or hierarchy. It is exactly the manifestation you choose it to be, darkness and death included."




“I think we should get a drink before we start Q and A.” The sound of Abigail’s voice made Hope jump enough to bump her knees on the table. Her tone was ice cold, sending prickly chills down Hope’s spine. She only nodded, certain that questioning how Abigail could be so dead about something involving her own brother would be a bad idea.

Abigail snapped her fingers in the air two times, and the man behind the bar immediately jumped on command. The closer he got, the stronger the pull became that Hope had felt previously. He walked with his face downcast, most likely watching where he stepped in an attempt to avoid tripping on anything or anyone. When he finally reached their table, Hope was in the middle of scrambling away, utterly terrified by what she was feeling. As soon as she caught sight of his face, her chair tipped back with her still in it.

Hope found herself sprawled out on a grubby wooden floor that didn’t look like it’d been swept in several days. Her sweater had somehow tangled itself around and between her knees, making any attempt she made to stand look very similar to a fish out of water.

Hope stopped all futile attempts to stand independently when a very masculine hand jabbed itself in front of her nose. With large, crossed eyes, she gasped and managed to scoot away from the floating hand by a few measly inches. A deep, silky chuckle rolled across languid airwaves and nearly choked Hope with its thick perfume. Hope glanced up through half mast eyes at the blurred face hovering just beyond the floating hand, and smiled crookedly, one eyebrow popping up a hair higher than the other. Another bout of chuckling ensued just as something lifted Hope to her seat.

“...Bump her head?”


Hope was only grasping portions of surrounding conversation. Her head swam through an enervated, unknown substance, causing a reaction similar to that of narcotics. She tried to shake herself and clear her mind, but whatever it was, it insisted on clinging tightly to every inch of her, inside and out.

“Do you mind telling me what your nose is doing on my boyfriend?” Hope was ripped from her strange trance when a cold, bony little hand landed abruptly on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, finding that her nose was indeed buried into the chest of a man.

No, not just any man. The man. The one that was causing the pull.

“Holy shit,” she muttered to herself, stuck in the glistening eyes of a man several years younger than herself. She was fully aware of the stares she was earning, as well as a perfectly annoyed Abigail behind her. She was also aware that, at that particular moment, she didn’t have the willpower to pull away from the younger man directly in front of her, or whatever it was that possessed her.

Slowly, Mr. Gloriously Addictive stepped away from her snout, swallowing loudly as he did. Hope could hear Abigail impatiently tapping her foot on the floor. The further he got from her, the stronger she felt. Finally, Hope managed to turn a bit to look at Abigail over her shoulder, knowing her cheeks would match the color of unfriendly fire. She opened her mouth to apologize, and the next thing she knew, she was falling face first toward the table. Abigail clumsily caught her full weight, gently lowering her into the nearest chair. Hope opened a single eye, finding the bartender entirely too close for comfort, and no doubt the cause of her sudden lack of leg control and balance.

He was frowning at her, probably just like Hope frowned at him. Abigail popped up out of nowhere next to him, the man that was yet to own a name, offering Hope a crystal clear glass of liquid heaven. She swallowed a mouthful, expecting it to slide down like the cool, refreshing water it should’ve been. Except it wasn’t water, and it ignited the very fires of hell in her throat and belly.

“Sorry,” Abigail winced as Hope coughed and sputtered. “I should’ve told you it was Vodka. Your weird dizzy spells and swooning had me convinced you were in desperate need of a hard drink.” Hope only offered a half smile, practically glaring up at the man still standing entirely too close to her. “Oh jeez, my manners ran away with my good mood. This is Garrett, my boyfriend.” Garrett offered a friendly hand to shake, but Hope just stared at it. She was more concerned about the close proximity of that hand, and why his very presence made her feel like her skeleton had decided to take a vacation without the rest of her.

“I think I need some fresh air,” Hope finally managed to announce.

~My Review~

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Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Blog Tour, Giveaway & Review ~ From Gods by Mary Ting

Title: From Gods

Author: Mary Ting

Genre: Young Adult

Tour Host:
Lady Amber's Tours

Did you just see a flash of lightning across the sky on a clear sunny day? It’s not from Mother Nature. It is most likely from Mason Grand, swoon-worthy demigod, one of Zeus’s descendants.

Skylar Rome is supposed to be having the best summer ever before she heads off to college.  Little did she know, her whole life was about to change while visiting her cousin. Nearly drowning at the beach due to unknown forces, one of the Grand brothers she’d just met, Mason, saves her life. Cool, collected, mysterious, and dangerously good-looking, Skylar is drawn to him from the start. Though she knows he is the type of guy good girls stayed away from, it seems he is always saving her life, and the attraction was inevitable.

Upon meeting the brothers, strange things begin to happen. When she accidentally kills one of the brothers, it throws her life into turmoil, as they search to find the answers. Implausibly, she gets caught up in a world of the descendants of ancient gods, all who have super powers. Not only is her discovery difficult to accept, evil beings are after her. Running out of time and running for her life, she must unravel a mystery. What do they want from her? Forced into a battle set into motion long before she was born, will she find the answers, or will she die trying?

~Author Bio~

Mary Ting resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children's chapter book-No Bullies Allowed.

Author Links:

Buy Links:


Tap! Tap! Tap!
Skylar jumped, startled by the sound. “Sorry officer,” she whimpered, starting the engine just to roll down the window and then quickly shutting it off again. The flashlight shone brightly, blocking her view, but she got a breath of the hot, sticky air that clung to her skin. Having the air conditioner on in her car, she had forgotten how hot it was. Even at night, the weather was intolerable.
Hoping not to offend him or her, she moved a little to the left and got a clear view of his gorgeous, young face. With instant combustion, her heart fluttered a mile a minute and her stomach churned nervously. She felt her face grow hot as she flushed and the temperature in her body shot up, either from the sight of him or the searing weather…perhaps the combination of both. Whatever it was, he was the gravity pulling her in. She was wrapped in his invisible force, visually taking all of his hotness in, and she was almost sure he was looking back at her with the same intensity. Breathe…breathe…exhale.
She had heard of love at first sight, but this was more like lust at first sight. What is wrong with me? Stop staring! Sheepishly, she unglued her eyes from his beautiful greenish blue ones; she couldn’t tell exactly what color they were. Trying not to stare, she saw a pearl drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. She didn’t want to look into his eyes again, for fear she may get lost in them and not be able to look away.
Shifting her view, she focused on his uniform that fit perfectly to the curve of his muscles. His clean-shaven face brought out his high cheekbones, and every part of him looked flawless, from his hair to his broad shoulders, and all the way down as far as she could see. She had seen good-looking cops, mostly on television, but for goodness sake…sizzle!
“Could I see your driver’s license?” he said flatly in his masculine low tone.
Pause. Even the tone of his voice made her heart race. Get a grip! Do you have a girl friend?
“Your driver’s license?”

~My Review~
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Friday, November 22, 2013

Blog Tour & Review ~ Apocalypse of Angels: Seeing Angels by Harmony Lawson

Title: Apocalypse of Angels: Seeing Angels

Author: Harmony Lawson

Genre: Young Adult

Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours


Camille Harper, about to finish high school, can see angels all around her. They appear to watch her. She has been able to see angels from birth, and while she is amused by this ability, she just wants a normal life with friends, family, and good times. Why can she see angels? She doesn't know, but she believes the knowledge will change everything. Then she witnesses a confrontation between a beautiful angel and a dark winged creature. The strange event will signal the end of normal life.

Did the strange beings know she could see them?

Her friends want her to sneak out to an abandoned house for parties, but her instincts scream “NO!” Something is not right about the place. The hip new guy in school, Earl, wants to date, but she is afraid he will disturb her circle of friends, and there is something not right about him. Her parents aren’t doing well together. And whatever strange plot is developing, her sister may be in the middle.

Now, for the first time, Camille Harper is interacting with angels face to face. This is incredible, but when Jason Waters enters her life, she gets more than she bargained for. Her strange ability complicates life on a whole new level. Camille and Jason enter an exciting but forbidden relationship.

Strange beings present danger. What’s a Nephilim? What are fallen angels up to?

Jason believes something is strange with Earl, but Jason is hiding things from Camille as well. Which one is right for her? Are they both trying to possess her for supernatural reasons?

Camille just wants to make it through the year and graduate from high school, but changes are leading up to some apocalyptic event.

Can Camille continue Seeing Angels without her life going to Hell?

~Author Bio~

Harmony Lawson was born on a naval base in San Diego, California. Currently, she and her family live in Northern California in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Her education is in drawing, painting, and writing. When she read her first romance novel at age 16, she became a hopeless romantic.
Harmony is fascinated by angels, and she incorporates research in angels, the Nephilim, and fallen angels into her fictional stories. Many of the descriptions in her books reflect actual documentation found in religious documents.
While she has endured many hardships in life, she believes life will be better tomorrow. Life has its ups and downs, trials and tribulations, and Heaven and Hell. She believes the bad times are a test to prove a person’s worth. Her books reflect on that concept.



“I really want to see you again, Cami, but I’m not sure about this. I’m not sure I can.” His gaze is intense. There is no way for me to respond to that. I look down again.

He raises my hand to his lips and kisses. Electricity travels
up my arm. How can a kiss feel like that? Have we fallen in love

“Why wouldn’t you be able to see me again?” I finally have to ask.

“Never mind, just pretend I didn’t say that.”

He is hiding things from me, and I know what they are. Attraction is making me so weak that I am tempted to tell him what I know. I have to fight it.

His warm hand is smooth on top and rough on the palm. My hand must seem cold to him. He can hold my hand as long as he wants.

He sighs and kisses my hand again. “We better drive back to your car. I don’t want to keep you out too late.” He sounds like a guy trying to avoid trouble.

~My Review~

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Blog Tour & Giveaway ~ September Ends by Hunter S Jones

Title: September Ends

Author: Hunter S. Jones & An Anonymous English Poet

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: October 1st, 2013
Tour Host:
Lady Amber's Tours


Overweight and dull. That’s how I felt.

My grandfather and brother died. I hid inside a black cave deep in my soul, numbed for a decade on meds, booze, and bad love, married to my glorious career.

My name is Liz Snow, from Atlanta, Georgia, and this is my story.

One hot summer I fell hopelessly in love with successful attorney, Peter William Hendrix III, from Chattanooga, Tennessee. We bonded because of Shelley and Keats. Pete introduced me to the works of modern English poet, Jack O. Savage, It was like The Poet was drawing us together through his blogs and poems, like he had a message for my life and my love with Pete Hendrix.
I lived it in my heart and soul.

It all went tragically wrong once I learned Pete’s secret.

As September ends I jet to London, England with an unstable mind and a broken heart. Pete Hendrix betrayed me big time. There was no time for revenge. My life was a kaleidoscope of stabbing shards of pain.

London ignored me. Maybe I didn't exist. I was lost and lonely in a flat in Kensington.
I hear that Jack O. Savage will make a rare public appearance. I wrangle an invitation to the art gallery where he is reading. I was curious. Somehow, he was the cause of my trouble.
The rock-star-with-words was even more damaged than I.

Jack O.Savage, The Poet became my friend.
Then, an unexpected kiss at a county fair on a perfect English summer's day changed everything forever. Jack the man became my lover.
My elusive dream of a lifelong love began.
If Pete was what I'd always wanted, Jack was what I always needed.
The mystery unraveled as the kaleidoscope of my broken life evolved and I found myself living a rainbow of perfect bliss.

Sometimes when you believe it’s the end, it’s only the beginning.

September Ends is a contemporary romance with erotic and supernatural elements bound together by poetry. It reveals the intricate web of passion and desire which entangles Liz Snow, Pete Hendrix and Jack O. Savage. The story is told through Liz Snow’s diary, Jack O. Savage’s poetry, and from letters sent across the Atlantic. Traveling throughout the lushness of a summertime in Tennessee and Georgia, September Ends journeys into the elegance of London’s West End and is finally settled in the countryside of Cornwall, England, a decade later.

September Ends is a story of sin, redemption and salvation through love
because love happens when we least expect it.

~Author Bio~
HUNTER S. JONE -Novelist. Exile on Peachtree Street.
Lover of all the finer things in life.
The art form I create when writing is much more interesting than anything you will ever know or learn about me. However, since you ask, I have lived in Tennessee and Georgia my entire life, except for one “lost summer” spent in Los Angeles. I was always a complex kid. My first published stories were for a local underground rock publication in Nashville. I have published articles on music, fashion, art, travel and history.
Currently, I have a music/entertainment blog My debut novella, Fables of the Reconstruction,  was published in 2012.
Edgar Allan Poe and Anne Rice have always fascinated me, although like any Southern girl, I will always idolize Margaret Mitchell for writing Gone With The Wind. I also adore the works of John Grisham, and own a huge selection of his books. I live in Atlanta, Georgia with my husband, my books, too many clothes, too many shoes and way too many stacks of notepads and journals.
September 2013 will see the launch of my first novel, a contemporary romance, written in collaboration with English author and poet, R.J. Askew.

So this is what it’s like. You see it on TV, the doctors waiting at the doors of the emergency room. A breathing mask going over my face. “Liz, you’re going to sleep for a while,” Dr. Crandon said. “I’ll be here for you when you awaken. You’re going to be okay.” And your face turning and smiling at me like the whole of my life was going to be all right, like you were looking out for me even as you left me.
That was when I heard a howl of grief from Mom in a distant, unknown waiting room.
Then you are there with me. I can see you. I want to follow you, go with you, but you wave me back. You won’t let me follow. You insist. The look on your face. The Cherokee warrior, or is that our grandfather? Crossing a log bridge over a ravine and you follow. I want to follow too, but you lift the log up and tip it into the abyss. You look at me. Our eyes meet. You wave to me. I’m weeping for you, Charles. And then you’re gone from me forever. I breathe in the inviting darkness surrounding me. It welcomes me with its soft caress.
Coming to, I’m waking up and it’s as if I surface to the top of a pond, only the pond is filled with clouds. Dreamy. Ethereal.
Dr. Crandon was there, just as he had promised. Remembering things said that I can’t recall. “Liz, Liz, you can wake up now. You’re a lucky girl. Your mom and dad, and half of the town are outside waiting for you to wake up. I’ll let them know.”
“What about Charles?” I whisper. Invisible shutters cover his eyes.
“Let me send your dad back to see you, Liz. Only one person at a time is allowed in ICU.” With that, Dr. C squeezes my hand and steps away. The sleepy dreamtime peace creeps over me.
One of the nurses shakes me gently, reviving me. “Liz, honey, you’ve had a concussion. I can’t let you go to sleep yet.”
Dad walks in. His lanky frame darkens the doorway. He pauses, just a hesitation, a moment. Then, he’s at my bedside, taking my hand.
“You’ve always been a survivor, my little girl. I saw it in you when you were born. You were born fighting, Liz. You’re my survivor.”
I plead with his eyes. “Daddy, why won’t anyone tell me about Charles? I know he’s dead. When will someone tell me?”
Dad sits on the hospital bed, cups my hand in both of his. “Yes, baby, he’s gone.” I saw your death in Dad’s face as he admitted he’d lost you, his only son.
Then it’s about me. “You’re in rough shape, sister. Every rib around your heart is cracked. You have a concussion and you dislocated your shoulder. But, you are going to be all right. You are going to be all right. You’ll have to get well so you can help me handle your mother.”
And that’s how it’s been, Charles.
The same old story. Dad and Mom, me in the middle, getting lost, in the way, getting it wrong, cracking up, too much of everything, but never enough. Mom going on and on. Why did you stop just there? Why was he driving? Why? Why? Why?
And then it started. One shrink after another. Like I wasn’t grieving properly, or something. Like I had some new and nasty problem that needed to be fixed. God, I needed you there. You were the only one who could have helped me and you were gone.
All the docs wanted was the money. Write a script. Give another pill, same old story. Just another messed up kid. Not a one of them gave a damn about the pain and my loss and sense of always being abandoned.
 You were my best friend, Charles, my only brother. Eleven months apart in age. More like twins. Same nose, same blue eyes, same blond, wavy hair. You the natural athlete. Me, your equal. Remember when I beat you at running? At everything, almost. I always have been one competitive girl.
 I still can’t believe you’re gone, Charles. I never will. 
You were my confidante, my buddy. You were the one who always made everything right for me. You were the fun one, the good-looking guy with the great sense of humor. I was always a little bit off the mark, more of a loner. Always surrounded by people, always alone, since I was a kid. That sense of aloneness and I are the best of friends. You know how hurt I was when Grandfather died when I was 13? He was the only one who ever told me I was pretty. You did sometimes, kinda. Almost. In a joking way. You two were the only ones who made me feel as if I was part of something and you are both gone. Forever.
 How many times am I going to tell this story? The doctor looks up from his note taking.
I have to ask. “Am I crazy?”
“No, you are not crazy, Liz. You have survived a terrible accident. You have had a series of disappointments and losses beyond anything a typical nineteen-year-old has to contend with.”
“I once had a patient who constantly saw a Christmas tree. All the ornaments on the tree were the faces of the women he had slept with in the past. He saw the tree sitting in the room, no matter where he was. From the corner of his eye, he would see this Christmas tree when he was awake. And, when he was asleep, the ornaments would fly off the tree with each of the women screaming at him.
“That’s crazy, Liz. You’re not crazy. You have a touch of melancholia, that’s    all.”
 Melancholia, he says. What the hell? Isn’t that what the romantic poets had? Better than being plain depressed, I suppose.
 He tells me I’m sad, numb. I remember everything about the crash. He asks me to place the memory in a box for now. I am to imagine all that pain and place it all in an imaginary box. I am to lock the box with an imaginary key. I am to keep the key. I can unlock the box as I can handle the feelings and I can unlock it when I want to open it. When I am ready. I am in control. Meanwhile, I am to take some nice little pills in a nice little pillbox.
 He asks me why I’m majoring in English Lit. Did I find reading all that Keats and Shelley saddening? Did I empathize with the sad things they wrote about? We discuss words. It’s like I’m some human crossword puzzle he’s trying to solve.
I tell him I see through words. He doesn’t get it. I run that line from Antony and Cleopatra his way, you know the one, my fav from the Bard: “With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie.” He doesn’t get it. I spell it out. Life is intrinsically intricate. Shakespeare nailed it. I tell the doc I don’t need the medication. He tells me I have no choice.
 He gives me one of those I’ve-had-enough-of-you looks, tells me there’s nothing really wrong with me. I am to study hard. Vanderbilt is an excellent school. It’s HIS alma mater! I am to get on the school paper. Writing will be a good outlet for me. I am to keep a journal, too. A girlie diary. Doing articles will help me focus on others and a diary will help me understand my own feelings better.
It is one of the few sensible things he says and one piece of advice I actually follow, dear Diary. 
It gets better. I am to play tennis, run, play volleyball. Exercise the blues away - every day. Get those endorphins pumpin'.
 Meanwhile, keep taking the numb pills “a while longer.”
“What is ‘a while longer’?” I ask. “Six more years?” I tell him just what I think about the meds.
No, no more Dr. Nice.
I am underage until I am 21. My parents want the meds continued until I am out of school and turn 21. I have a history of suicide attempts. Lies!
He knows I WILL recover.
“What, from the medication?” I ask him.
My parents are “concerned.” And then he hits me with, “You are not helping yourself by continuing to drink. That works against the medication.” Doesn’t he know all students drink? Doesn’t he know I just want to be like everyone else? He waves my grades in front of me. I can’t believe it. He actually has a copy of my grades.
 So, I’m not like everyone else. So I’m above average in this, outstanding in that. So what? He wants to make me believe in myself. And then he tells me. I don’t need him. The answers are all within me. I need direction, that’s all. Why don’t I come back in three months instead of three weeks?
Like, YES! So the deal is I take the pills and skip the torture. 
He was right about the writing, though. It works. 
I write a blog for the school. I PROMISE TO LEAVE MY BRAIN TO SCIENCE - THE ANATOMY OF NUMBNESS. I can write, it seems.
 The next time I see Dr. Nice, I take him a blog on MELANCHOLIA AND THE MODERN AMERICAN DISILLUSIONED ROMANTIC TEEN. I follow this up with THE GIRL CHATTERTON.
 He knows I am toying with him. Is he hitting on me? I do believe he is. Or maybe he just wants me to think he is. He’s 32 and married with a young son called Daniel. In the end, it is he who rejects me, refuses further appointments. Says I no longer need him.
 Even my shrink.
 So, dear Diary, will you reject me, too? Will you? Should we stop this now before someone gets abandoned again? Do I stop you right here?
I think so. (I believe this is the end.)

Liz Snow
Atlanta, Georgia
September 2003
Hello, Diary. I am now twenty-nine, a dangerous age, everyone says. Looking back, it’s hard to believe that I wrote those things ten years ago. 
Now here I am. Older. Still attempting to make sense of the shattered pieces of my life. Much like the shards of a broken mirror, my life reflects in front of my own eyes and reveals a kaleidoscope, yet I still can’t see - me. I can’t seem to understand myself.
Item: a death - my grandfather.
Item: a death - my brother.
Item: a misguided marriage.
Item: a devastating miscarriage.
Item: an acrimonious divorce.

Liz Snow, THIS! Is your life.

At least my career is soaring.

Let there be a line drawn here. Let everything beyond this line be a new me for Peter William Hendrix III. Be there, beyond the line. My savior, my love. I believe I am going to marry you. You haven’t asked me yet, but you will.

Okay, Diary, are you ready for a happy ending? You’d better be, because that is what you & I are going to get. I swear it.
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