SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews

Well there is not much to say abut me. I love coffee and books and if I can drink a fresh hot coffee while reading even better:)

I started to review a couple years ago and I still loving it. I love the book community and met many awesome people along the way. I'm looking forward to connect to even more of you awesome people out there and of course continue to discover more great books.

You can also find me at my blog over at SnoopyDoo's Book Reviews . And on Goodreads 

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Blog Tour: The Dragon in the Garden by Erika Gardner with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

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

Happy Reading :) 


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

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

 

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

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Blog Tour: Releasing Henry by Sarah Hegger with Excerpt and Giveaway

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

Happy Reading :) 


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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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Blog Tour: Love Is Death by L.P. Masters with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

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

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

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

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

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Blog Tour: Mated In Treason by Christa Paige with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Christa Paige’s Mated In Treason. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


Welcome to the world of the Kan Asma Vampires. The Kan Asma are genetically modified humans who've become vampires. For centuries, the Kan Asma lived symbiotically with their human neighbors until the government recognized something had increased their life spans. Scientists and militia stormed their quiet Abkhazian village and betrayal followed. Many vampires experienced brutality and torture. Others died from experimentation. After a perilous journey, the surviving Kan Asma fled their homeland and settled in West Hollywood, California. The refugees cling to their sacred traditions, holding their mating rites above all others because without them, their numbers would diminish. There is no love or emotion in their Council-determined matings. Now, their quiet lives have suddenly been turned upside down. Lines have been drawn between the wealthy aristocrats and an uprising determined to halt the unfair ritual keeping wealth and power out of reach. Those who are lucky to find love in these matches are very few, and they will have to fight with everything they have in order to claim their mates or suffer a broken heart for eternity.

When the kraliyet bodyguard ended up in her hospital bed after an explosion left him in critical condition, Nadia tried to warn herself not to fall in love with him. After all, she's no vampire Cinderella, and happily-ever-afters didn't happen to low-born females of the Kan Asma. But her heart wouldn't listen, and soon she wanted to claim Gunnar as her forever mate, even if it meant taking him the only way possible, as a husband in a disgraceful human ceremony.   Gunnar fell in love with his nurse the moment he saw her smile. He yearned to claim her as his, but the Council would never allow him to mingle his powerful blood with a female from a poor family. The penalty for an unsanctioned mating is a death sentence. He doesn’t care about the threats and possible consequences of making her his. Though, due to the high probability of genetic incompatibility, he can't complete their blood-bond without knowing if it might take her life. Losing her would be worse than torture.   Their only hope lies with the treasonous Faction hell-bent on destroying the very people Gunnar calls family. Determined to find a way to be mated, Gunnar seeks out the leader of this hidden uprising. Together, Nadia and Gunnar must break every law and rite of their vampire culture to become bonded for life. Gunnar will play a deadly game of subversion or pay a blood price that would sever him from their people and put a bounty on his head. They must survive a dangerous infiltration of the Faction, because they’ll do anything to be together, even if it means being mated in treason.

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The door swung open and he stood in the threshold. Strong and intense, her essence called to him on an elemental level. “Nadia.” His voice gruff, he said her name on a mere growl around long fangs that pricked his lower lip.

Surprise lined her forehead, her eyes narrowed, and breath wrenched from her chest. She stood from her chair and swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. Red tinged her eyes. Moisture tracked from the corners and spilled down her cheeks. Misery hit him square in the chest like a dull, rusty blade. Needing privacy, he shut the door and locked the deadbolt. “Why are you crying?”

She shook her head. The long length of her ponytail fell over her shoulder as she glanced away from him. Her eyes lost focus and she stared at the dingy wooden cabinets hanging from the far wall.

“Tell me, kjaere.” Gunnar pressed his lips together. Great, now he was using terms of endearment in his mother’s native tongue. He really had lost his frickin’ mind.

Crossing her arms about her, she shivered as if cold but the temperature in the room was tepid and controlled. “Nadia, let me help.”

With a loud exhalation, she threw her arms up in apparent frustration. Then, she propped her hands on her hips and paced the short length of the room. “You can’t.” She swiped away another tear. “No one can.”

“Did Izak do this?” he spat, needing to understand. God please don’t let it be about that sentinel playboy. “Or Andros?” Either way he had to be prepared for her reply.

“He told me I could have something impossible. Something I want so much.”

Gunnar steeled his composure, flexing his muscles and gritting his jaw. “Who,” he prompted. Inside he quaked with possessiveness and aggression. Get a grip on yourself, idiot.

A short nervous exhalation followed as she turned and faced him. “Andros.”

One step brought him closer, just to the edge of the oblong table sitting in the middle of the room. He leaned into his palm, the cool wood of the table helped to keep him from losing his temper right there. “What did he say, Nadia? Tell me. Maybe I can make it happen.”

She shook her head again and the tip of her tongue slid out, moistening her lips in a long sweep. The tips of her blunt, white teeth chewed on the corner of her mouth. She turned those soulful eyes on him. “I want—” Her breath faltered and her chest rose with a tense inhalation. Twisting the hem of her shirt in her fingers, she focused on the wall behind him, breaking off their connection.

Time stilled as her lips parted and closed again. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “You.” She pushed into his mind, and he could feel her apprehension, fear, and overwhelming need.

He closed the distance between them, grabbed her face with both his hands, ignoring the metal on his arm. Sliding his fingers along her jaw, he cupped the nape of her neck and pulled her forward. He bent his head, stopped fighting against everything he knew he wasn’t supposed to do, and gave into everything he wanted.

Strict professor by day. Romance author by night. Lover of all things alpha-male twenty-four hours a day. Christa Paige is a multi-published author in several genres. Her passion for love stories spans many tropes. She writes sensual, romantic tales and sweet love stories. In her free time, Christa, likes knitting and has a yarn stash that keeps growing. (Especially if it is bamboo.) She has a love/hate relationship with running but can’t turn down a themed 5k race. Her beagle babies are her running partners. She never tires of watching a Star Wars marathon or rereading Lord of the Rings. There’s a special place in her heart for the Regency Romance. Mr. Darcy is her favorite Regency hero, especially when he is wearing Hessians and a cravat.

Christa's series The Blood-Vine published by Liquid Silver Publishing, Kissin' Cops published by Liquid Silver Publishing, Women Who Serve (Book 1 Coming soon), Kan Asma Vampires published by Hartwood Publishing.

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Blog Tour: Seeds of Intention by Andrea Thome with Giveaway

Today’s stop is for Andrea Thome’s Seeds of Intention. We will have info about the book and author, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :)


Is it more important to have roots, or wings?

Garrett Oliver has just settled into his job as heir apparent to one of the most renowned master gardeners in the country. After a difficult few years, he’s found a home and a renewed purpose at a famed resort in the secluded Smoky Mountains. The stars seem to be aligning for Garrett as he plans a future with his college sweetheart and envisions a simple life with her in the mountains of East Tennessee.   Willow Armstrong, fresh off a painful breakup, is coming home to Knoxville to care for her ailing father. She finds herself in the right place at the right time, landing a dream job alongside Garrett—as his boss. As they are thrown together by their work, an undeniable magnetism grows between them, despite the fact that Garrett is ready to start a future with someone else.   Circumstances persist in drawing them closer, and an unexpected opportunity in Colorado prompts Willow and Garrett to wonder if a life together out west might be beyond anything either of them had dared to imagine.

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I'm a former broadcast journalist, having covered both sports and news during my career. (That's how I met my husband; I interviewed him on MLB opening day in 1995, and the rest is history.) I temporarily retired when we had our children, so I could be home with them full-time while they're young. We have a fourteen-year-old daughter, a nine-year-old son, and two cats that we spoil rotten.   This seemed like the perfect time in my life to jump back into doing something I love; writing and telling stories. No one was more surprised than me when I ended up with 65,000 words in my lap last spring! I called it Walland, and it was published in August of 2016. My second book, Seeds of Intention will be published on September 5, 2017, and as we speak, I've started to write a new book, the third in the Hesse Creek Series.   In my spare time, I love photography and travel, preferably at the same time. My novels are inspired by favorite places I've traveled, each of which have left vivid footprints on my imagination. I believe a book can be steamy and sexy, while still keeping it classy. I also love to infuse my characters with great senses of humor.

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Feature Friday for Jessika Klide’s Hard-Core with Excerpt

 

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome the awesome Jessika Klide  with her book Hard-Core.The First book in the Siri-Saga.

We will have info about the book and author. Plus great excerpt from the book.

Make sure to check everything out and go and show Jessika some love and add her book to your TBR

Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/feature-friday-jessika-klides-hard-core-excerpt

Reading progress update: I've read 554 out of 720 pages.

Empire of Storms - Sarah J. Maas

Sh$t is getting real and about to hit the fan 

Blog Tour: The Dark Side by Cyci Cade with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Cyci Cade’s The Dark Side. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

“At that moment, he notices how vulnerable he is in front that creature; his life hangs by a thread—or what will remain of it if he doesn't die due to the severe burns.”   “Condemned to the eternal solitude, he wants to live his best possible life because he will have too many centuries of existence and he doesn't need to carry the weight of the guilt for had killed uncountable people to satiate his hunger.” Ivor Alastair has many plans for his future, but they are frustrated when his parents are murdered. In danger, he cannot stay in the city he grew up and have friends anymore. Forced to move to London to live with his uncle, Ivor tries to restart his life. However, a new tragedy devastates the small family.   Alone and devastated, Ivor feels lost and without strength to move on. After a year traveling to forget his past and erase the sorrow, he discovers that it will not be so easy.

Back to London, Ivor sees his life change again when a mysterious creature with an incredibly white skin that seems made of marble and red eyes that demonstrate a frightening ferocity crosses his way.   An unexpected encounter with Arabella makes Ivor think that his loneliness will stay behind; as decades pass, he realizes that he is more alone than never.   Decided to change his story, Ivor makes a decision. He will not kill anymore! Ivor Alastair lost his parents, house, and life. Now, he will have to restart, but will it be possible?

 

 

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A month later, Amelie dies. Again, sadness falls over the family that now summarizes to two people. Uncle Victor remains silent—he rarely says a word. He is ways staring at something distant; he is thoughtful and tearful. It seems that he aged ten years in a few days. Ivor, on the other hand, doesn't know what to do or say to comfort his uncle who received him in his house and family after his parents' death with open arms. Amelie was as his second mother. The aunt loved him in the same way his mother did, that´s why he can´t comfort his uncle. He is also suffering from the loss of the woman who helped him move on after such a hard blow of the destiny. In a few days, Victor starts to show the symptoms of the damned disease; even having so much money, he couldn´t save his wife, and he can´t save himself. “Ivor, we know what is about to happen. We need to have the last conversation. Take a seat in that armchair on the other side of the room.” Victor sits down on the sofa staying away from the nephew. “Uncle, you still have some months.” Ivor sits down and tries to drag the chair closer to the uncle. “I talked to the doctor... I will go to the hospital. Everything in this house will be incinerated. You must buy new furniture and utensils. You must redecorate the house.” “But...” “It will be better in this way. I am transferring everything to your name; the properties, the businesses, this house... Regarding your father´s house and factory, I thought about hiring a trustworthy person to...” Ivor interrupts him, “You thought about everything. How long have you been planning it?” “Since I realized the gravity of the situation.” Victor takes the handkerchief to the mouth and coughs. “I don't want any of that! Everything is yours!” “Ivor, I am dying, and you are my only heir.” He pants before continuing, “I trust you. I know you will be a successful businessman.” “I thought...” Victor leans forward. “You mustn´t say who you are. Never! The police haven´t found your parents' murderers yet. Don't trust anybody.” Ivor gets up and walks back and forth. He walks two steps in the uncle's direction but hesitates when he sees the uncle covering his mouth and coughing. “Do you think I am in danger?” “Maybe. The factory is good; the manager has communicated some purchase proposals during these years, but anything suspicious. Probably, Giles was not killed because of the businesses.” “I want to make a request. I must stay here, therefore, sell the factory and the house, because I won't support to return to that place.” “Are you sure? We are talking about your inheritance.” “I am. I cannot manage that business. I prefer to sell everything instead of hiring an administrator,” he affirms. “I´ll sell the factory, but keep the house. One day, you will want to return.” Victor points his trembling finger to Ivor. The uncle's words sound like a curse—or maybe a premonition. His face tenses and his feature darken. Uncomfortable with the situation, he answers, “I don´t think so.” With difficulty, Victor gets up and climbs the stairs heading to his bedroom. Soon, he will go to the hospital and Ivor will be alone in that big house. Desperate, he looks for someone who can help him in his thoughts in such a difficult moment. His few friends are distant for Ivor to ask for help; the employees respect him, however, he wants to keep things on a professional level.

 

 

 

Cyci Cade is advertising professional, writer, and graphic designer. She writes YA fantasy, fiction, and romance novels.   She started her career writing articles for magazines, newspapers, and blogs. She published her first books in 2012, and their success encouraged her to keep writing.   Nowadays, she splits her time between her writing and the gym—one of her favorites places where she spends three hours per day.

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Blog Tour: The Bow of Destiny by P.H. Solomon with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for P.H. Solomon’s The Bow of Destiny. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

 

Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Uncertain what is real. Athson has seen things that aren't there and suffered fits since being tragically orphaned as a child at the hands of trolls and Corgren the wizard. When a strange will mentioning a mysterious bow comes into his possession, he's not sure it's real. But the trolls that soon pursue him are all too real and dangerous. And what's worse, these raiders serve Corgren and his master, the hidden dragon, Magdronu, who are responsible for the destruction of his childhood home. Athson is drawn into a quest for the concealed Bow of Hart by the mystic Withling, Hastra, but Athson isn't always sure what's real and who his enemies are. With Corgren and Magdronu involved, Athson must face not only frequent danger but his grasp on reality and the reasons behind his tragic past.

 

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He struggles to breathe. Trolls stab helpless villagers through sliding curtains of choking smoke and raging flame. Dying children wail as mocking slayers howl. The violence fades into darkness. He flails and fears he lies in a grave yet finds emptiness instead of dirt. Silver light rises and Eagle's Aerie soars beneath the moon. Athson climbs the weather-worn stair and scraps his hands as he gains speed. The rock-face blurs as Athson swoops onto the pinnacle towering over the ocean, stands where no one ever has, sees what has been hidden. Athson pauses and then floats toward a voice murmuring by a swaying flame within a shadowed crevice. A silhouette kneels and rocks, dark against the fire beyond it. A woman's uneven voice chants: "The bow shall be hidden from heart..." The swaying speaker feeds wood into the fire. Sparks snap from the coals and whirl amid the orange-blue tongues. An arc forms in the smoke and fades into the stars. "The eagle will guide the heir..." An eagle's scream pierces the night wind. "The bow shall be found at need..." Wrinkled hands tie a wad of cloth with string - a bowstring. "And the arrow shall Eloch prepare." A shooting star streaks across the horizon and drags Athson's attention from the crouching figure before the popping fire. The eagle screams again - louder and nearer. The figure half-turns and tosses the packet at Athson's feet. He stares at it, then back to the kneeling woman. Her face half-lit by the firelight reveals a pointy nose that overshadows her receding jaw. Grizzled wisps of gray hair wave in the wind. "For you who suffers in silence for a secret." Athson stoops and inspects the package. He unties the knot and pushes the string into a pocket. Within the cloth, he finds a tattered note and more fabric he guesses is a pennant. "Zelma's done it." She gazes skyward and raises her arms.

 

 

 

 

P. H. Solomon lives in the greater Birmingham, AL area where he strongly dislikes yard work and sanding the deck rail. However, he performs these duties to maintain a nice home for his loved ones as well as the family’s German Shepherds. In his spare time, P. H. rides herd as a Computer Whisperer on large computers called servers (harmonica not required). Additionally, he enjoys reading, running, most sports and fantasy football. Having a degree in Anthropology, he also has a wide array of more “serious” interests in addition to working regularly to hone his writing. The Bow of Destiny is his first novel-length title with more soon to come.

 

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Blog Tour: Worth Waiting For by Wendy Qualls with Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Wendy Qualls’s Worth Waiting For. We will have info about the book and author, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

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A small town in the Deep South isn’t where most gay men would choose to go looking for love. But open hearts will find a way . . .   Growing up in the Bible Belt, Paul Dunham learned from a young age to hide his sexuality. Now he’s teaching psychology at a conservative college in Georgia—and still hiding who he really is. If Paul hopes to get tenure, he needs to keep his desires on the down-low. But when an old college crush shows up on campus—looking more gorgeous than ever—Paul’s long-suppressed urges are just too big for one little closet to hold . . .   Brandon Mercer has come a long way since his freshman year fumblings with Paul. Now he’s confident, accomplished, proudly out—and the sexiest IT consultant Paul’s ever seen. When Brandon asks Paul to grab some coffee and catch up, it leads to a steamy reunion that puts their first night of passion to shame. But when Paul’s longtime crush turns into a full-time romance, he receives an anonymous email threatening to expose their secret to the world. If Paul stays with Brandon, his teaching career is over. Yet if he caves under pressure, he risks losing the one true love he’s been waiting for. . .

 

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Wendy Qualls was a small¬town librarian until she finished reading everything her library had to offer. At that point she put her expensive and totally unrelated college degree to use by writing smutty romance novels and wasting time on the internet. She lives in Northern Alabama with her husband, two daughters, two dogs, and a seasonally fluctuating swarm of unwanted ladybugs. She’s a member of both the Romance Writers of America and way too many online writers’ forums.

 

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Blog Tour: An Arrow Against the Wind by P.H. Solomon with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for P.H. Solomon’s An Arrow Against the Wind. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 


 

Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Uncertain what is real. Athson has seen things that aren't there and suffered fits since being tragically orphaned as a child at the hands of trolls and Corgren the wizard. When a strange will mentioning a mysterious bow comes into his possession, he's not sure it's real. But the trolls that soon pursue him are all too real and dangerous. And what's worse, these raiders serve Corgren and his master, the hidden dragon, Magdronu, who are responsible for the destruction of his childhood home. Athson is drawn into a quest for the concealed Bow of Hart by the mystic Withling, Hastra, but Athson isn't always sure what's real and who his enemies are. With Corgren and Magdronu involved, Athson must face not only frequent danger but his grasp on reality and the reasons behind his tragic past.

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An Arrow Against the Wind

 

Book Two 

 

Haunted by his past. Hunted in the present. Buffeted like an arrow in the wind.

The hunt for the Bow of Hart continues for Athson and his companions. They have escaped the clutches of Magdronu and Corgren, but they are still pursued. In need of answers to deep mysteries revealed in Chokkra, Athson must gain possession of the mythic bow to face both his enemies and his tragic past. But Magdronu's reach stretches among Athson's companions, endangering Limbreth and even Hastra in schemes to entrap them all. With each turn of the search for the Bow of Hart, long hidden secrets surface that threaten to destroy Athson. Will he falter like an arrow against the wind?   "An Arrow Against the Wind is a wonderful follow-up to The Bow of Destiny." - Bookwraiths "We have read more than a couple great books this year, and An Arrow Against the Wind is surely among them." - Fantasia Reviews

 

 

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An Arrow Against the Wind

Please note: this is copyrighted material and may not be reproduced except by permission.

The touch of a cold hand drew Limbreth out of the depths of slumber. Her watch already? But her eyes only fluttered open and shut. Hastra said nothing. That touch—it was far colder than the weather. It crept deep into her sluggish thoughts and along her spine.

Limbreth groaned and turned her head. Her eyes flared wide at the sight of a black hand. It grasped her arm. Her jaw worked, but she uttered not a sound. Her heart slammed in her throat, and her chest heaved. The Bane dragged her toward the door where Gweld squatted.

The figure of the Bane swallowed all the light in the small space even though the fire still burned well. Limbreth found some strength and flopped as the Bane pulled her to the door's threshold and then ducked out.

Limbreth's lungs strained to utter any noise. It was a spell! She fought for a sound and croaked a whimper. The Bane pulled her right arm out the door.

Why wouldn't Gweld do anything?

Limbreth fumbled with her free hand and snagged the rock edge of the doorway. The Bane yanked at her arm. Her breath came in gasps but made no viable sound.

She drew the deepest of breaths and mustered all her strength, which passed her lips in a feeble whisper: "Help." Not enough to wake anyone. You’re on your own. Gweld never moved.

The Bane yanked her torso into the blizzard outside. Her hand grasped the doorway fast and her left arm locked in pain. A groan escaped her lips.

   

P. H. Solomon lives in the greater Birmingham, AL area where he strongly dislikes yard work and sanding the deck rail. However, he performs these duties to maintain a nice home for his loved ones as well as the family’s German Shepherds. In his spare time, P. H. rides herd as a Computer Whisperer on large computers called servers (harmonica not required). Additionally, he enjoys reading, running, most sports and fantasy football. Having a degree in Anthropology, he also has a wide array of more “serious” interests in addition to working regularly to hone his writing. The Bow of Destiny is his first novel-length title with more soon to come.

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Blog Tour: His High-Stakes Bride by Martha Hix with Excerpt and Giveaway

 

Today’s stop is for Martha Hix’s His High-Stakes Bride. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :)

 


Win, lose—or fall in love . . .
 
After losing her mama and all she has, vagabond Patience “Patty” Sweet dreams of reuniting with her father in the New Mexico territory. So she teams up with a no-good gambler whose winnings enable her to get her closer to her destination. Patty hates hanging around saloons and poker parlors, pulling dishonest deeds. But when a game of five-card draw goes wrong in Lubbock, Texas, Patty gets offered up as collateral—to a handsome stranger who’s about to turn the tables . . .
 
Lawyer Grant Kincaid has no intention of claiming his prize—a nearly nineteen-year-old petite beauty with sweet eyes—who has a hold on him he can’t deny. But as he tries to help Patty untangle herself from her shady partner, he discovers she’s not as innocent as she seems. For starters, she’s already stolen his hardened heart . . .
 
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Chapter 1 Lubbock, Texas, 1910 Under a full moon It is a sad day in a woman’s life when she comes to grips with weakness of character. Today might have been that way for Patience Eileen Sweet, but she couldn’t dwell on something like that. Not this day, which had turned into a warm autumn night in 1910. Not when she intended to escape the mess of her own making. Her papa would have told her, “Patty Cake, proceed with caution.” He always claimed full moons bring babies, lunatics, and any number of disasters, particularly mine cave-ins. Tonight would bring change; that she knew beforehand. This night unfolded for Patty in a saloon. By the midnight hour the floozies had served their last drinks and were nowhere to be seen, most of the customers having cleared out. The bartender did nothing to cover his yawns. Cigar smoke still curled toward the tin ceiling. Gaming chips still pinged. Three gamblers refused to give in or give up. Still and all, it would be over soon. Looking up from her mending, she meant to steal a glance at her “stepbrother,” but she locked gazes with one of the gamblers instead, and not for the first time this evening. The three were close enough that she could get a good look—he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. As he had the other times, he nodded once. There was a puzzled, curious look to his fine features, certainly not the nasty-old-pervert leer that Dorinda had warned her to look out for. She did like this man’s black-haired, blue-eyed looks. He wore the garb of a West Texan—a yoked shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and denim britches that hugged him just right. His boots were the same kind that cowboys wore, only this ’poke’s weren’t scuffed or worn out. His clothes looked too clean, his hair and chin too smooth for a man of the land. He looked rich. Patty moved her line of sight to her partner-in-crime, Chet Merkel. It was his turn to deal, and she could tell he was losing at five-card stud. They couldn’t afford for him to lose, not even for one evening, yet she prayed for his bad luck. She knew what his next move would be. He’d barter her virginity. For the third time. Twice before to two different men in two different towns. Tonight it was Scarlet Garter Jenny’s Saloon. The “winner” would be a short, dark sheriff wearing a big, thick wedding ring. Or else the winner might be that curious fellow—the smooth-shaven pretty boy that the drunkards, gamblers, and preening waitresses called “counselor” and “mouthpiece,” with “Grant” or “Kincaid” thrown in from time to time. Well, the painted ladies usually said “Sugar.” Neither of these men looked as gullible as the previous winners of her so-called prize. Anyway, Patty knew how to get out of being the night’s reward. Did she even want to? Just looking at Grant Kincaid had her in a tizzy. One way or another, things would be different tonight. She was cutting all ties to her double-dealing snake of a “stepbrother,” Chet Merkel. Definitely, she wouldn’t be rendezvousing with Chet later. * * * * Grant Kincaid spent many nights at the poker table. As a bachelor uninterested in ice-cream socials or musical recitals performed by the boring flowers of Lubbock society, he lacked choices beyond reading and visiting friends or relatives. Not that he had any local relatives, beyond the Kincaids of the High Hopes farm and ranch and their relatives, the Craigs. He hailed from the shoals of the Tennessee River in northwest Alabama. Besides, he enjoyed playing cards. After the last hand of an evening, he sometimes got lucky with one of the tarts, two if he was really lucky. He liked ’em ripe, filled out, and hotter than a thin-skinned jalapeño pepper under the broiling Texas sun. Tonight, he’d been leery of the tinhorn already at the Garter when Grant arrived for Thursday night poker. The odd-looking fellow, who’d shown up with an adolescent sister in tow, wanted to join the game between Grant and the general store proprietor, a local rancher, noted baker Mrs. Jewel Craig, and Sheriff Wes Alington, who played whenever his mother went visiting in San Angelo. The last seat was occupied by a cotton-gin salesman from Dallas. Since the High Hopes Ranch showed that cotton could be successfully grown in West Texas, cotton had become a popular way to make money in the previous decade. Tonight, the table cleared early with the less-than-dapper newcomer— he introduced himself as Chet Merkel—taking several hands. Jewel the baker bowed out first. Next went the general store man and the rancher. The cotton-gin representative took his leave after his third bad hand. That left Alington, Grant, and the tinhorn. Luck started going Grant’s way, then the sheriff’s. Always cool and quiet at the table, the compactly built lawman wore black and a shiny silver star, but never a sign of his wealth. His history with card playing didn’t reach far back. After he’d married a Valkyrie from the Hill Country, he’d taken up gaming. His mother had and would object to just about anything that might have “enjoyment” tacked to it, but the missus advised Alington just to do what he wanted, as long as he was smart enough to hide it from Mother Dear and it didn’t involve cavorting with other women. That was laughable. The sheriff had eyes only for his Lisa-Ann. Grant hoped when he found a wife that he could love her even half as much as Alington idolized the blonde from The Divide. “Do you plan to answer my bet, Mr. Merkel?” Wes Alington pointed to the five green chips he’d slid to the center of the baize-covered table. A bead of sweat popped on Merkel’s temple. Carelessly flicking cigar ashes on the floor, he cast a glance at his sister who sat primly in a straight chair in the corner, mending a garment that looked to be a shirt. Grant eyed the girl, as he had several times. This dimple-cheeked young lady had long titian-hued hair held up in a big white bow. Dressed in the childish style of a sailor, she wore leggings that covered her slender calves, and her hems were short, befitting a little girl. He would bet every last chip in front of him that she wasn’t a day over sixteen. She was too young to be candy to the senses. Most men of his age wanted to marry girls of sixteen or seventeen—often even younger, to pluck a cherry from the tree—but this man preferred women to girls, and he wasn’t angling for a wife. That’s what he liked to tell himself. In truth, he yearned to find the ideal lady to fill the emptiness of his heart and home. “See your bet, Sheriff, and raise you a hundred.” The girl’s brother tossed the required chips atop Alington’s last bet. One hundred? A ridiculous bet for a friendly game. It was time to end this nonsense. Given his excellent hand, Grant figured the only call for Merkel was “quits.” He said, “Raise you two hundred.” It turned out that Alington had bluffed with two jacks. He folded, saying, “Too rich for me. And it’s past my Lisa-Ann’s tuck-in time. Don’t want to miss that.” He took his leave; then Merkel covered the bet. “Raise you five hundred,” Grant challenged, feeling confident with his four-of-a-kind and ready for bed himself. Circuit court would convene this Saturday and he had a pair of cases to review tomorrow. The stranger sucked his cigar, squinting at his challenger. He was squinty- eyed to begin with. “Look, I’m short on chips. I can cover your bet, but I’ll have to collect the cash from the hotel’s strongbox. Tomorrow morning.” “That’s not the way we play poker in Lubbock, my friend.” “I have…collateral.” “How is that?” “That girl—I mean, lady—over there.” The way he spoke, a person would think the room had dozens of females. “That lovely brown-eyed lady. She’s my collateral.” “No thanks.” “You don’t like women?” “Don’t go there, my friend.” “I’m asking for a break, sir. I’m trying to bet a good hand. A hand so pat that I’m willing to put up my own sister as my stake.” “Your sister.” Grant saw absolutely no family resemblance. Of course, this was Texas, where families socialized in barrooms, and even brought their little children along. “Same mother, or same father?” “Same mo—same father.” That stumble gave Merkel away as a liar. Grant saw no need to tread that avenue. “I don’t know where you’re from, but brothers don’t bring their sisters to places like this, not one on one.” “I beg your pardon, sir. She’s my sister. My one and only. What was I to do with her? Leave her alone in the hotel tonight?” Grant took another look. Earlier, he’d seen Jewel Craig buying the girl a glass of milk that went untouched. “Don’t you think she might enjoy a root beer, or at least a cup of water? She’s been sitting there for hours.” While you’ve swilled several beers. “If Patience wants something, she’ll find a way to get it.” If a man said something like that in Alabama, a gentleman would jump to the young lady’s rescue to fetch her a refreshment, if he didn’t have a servant to do it. He would certainly want to know what part of the North the uncouth toad hailed from. This wasn’t the Deep South. Grant asked, “Are you going to take my raise or not?” “What about my problem? I’ve got money. Plenty. Oklahoma money. Forty-sixth state money. That’s where we’re from, Oklahoma. Tulsa. Oil country. I just made a stack on mineral rights.” “Is that so?” Grant didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the newest state, although his friend the sheriff had mentioned Oklahoma being a place that gushed oil. Merkel flicked his index finger along the top of his hand of cards, ruffling the five. “I’ve got a hand I believe in. Allow me to stay in the game on the strength of an evening with my sister. Just think. My sweet, untouched sister, right over there, preparing you a tasty breakfast in the morning. Could happen. Or not.” Grant Kincaid took the measure of Chet Merkel, seeing a beady-eyed fellow of about twenty. He grew a thin, kinked beard to cover a lack of chin. Pomade slicked the brown hair over his dome. His sartorial effects had been tailored to a larger man. Truth to tell, his observer almost felt sorry for the man. He was not an impressive negotiator. All in all, he came across as hard luck. Grant eyed the girl again. The needlework now in her lap, she stared back, her eyes big and round. She too looked desperate, with scared mixed in. He eyed Merkel again. Did this idiot even realize what he’d suggested? “What are you doing, bringing your sister into a saloon? She’s a child.” “It’s not against the law. She’s nineteen.” “Fifteen. And you’re not her guardian.” “Says who? And she’s nineteen.” “Save it, son. I am not fooled.” “All right. She’s eighteen. You’re correct. She’s not my sister. She’s a stepsister…after a fashion.” Grant groaned and rolled his eyes. Merkel ground out his cigar. “She’s Patience Sweet, sir. In December of ’08, her pa left for a mining job in the Territory of New Mexico. He’s not been heard from since. He’s dead, likely. Her mother believes so. She took up with my pa. They live as man and wife. Somewhere in Oklahoma. Exactly where, I cannot say, because Patience and I do not know.” Grant noticed she dabbed her eye with a hankie. Poor innocent. “Her ma abandoned her. Left her with the rent overdue. When I arrived to find my father and to collect an inheritance that should’ve been mine, what I found was this young woman. The total of my inheritance, you might say, was the suit on my back and the contents of Patience’s larder—a roach on a reduction diet.” “What kind of family does she hail from, where they abandon their own?” What an idiotic question. One look at Merkel answered that, really. These folks scraped by. As a lawyer, Grant had witnessed how badly families could and did treat their own. The mineral-rights money? Dollars to doughnuts, there wasn’t any. Merkel was saying, “Me, I’m headed to Juarez, then on down to Chihuahua City. I’ve got my own mining ideas. It’s a crystal palace, that part of Mexico. Crystals have value in numerous regards and will make me a wealthy man. As soon as Patience got wind of my travel plans, she latched on. She hopes to connect with her father, or news of him, in El Paso.” “Where’s your problem with that?” “Not a problem one, sir. How fortunate for you, not knowing what it’s like to be hungry.” “You don’t know that.” “True. What I do know is, the Universe favored my mother and me in the form of a dear old gypsy who took us in when my father turned us out. Thus, I owed the universe a favor, so I have looked after Patience Sweet. It ain’t been easy. Somebody latches on; they have to be provided for. That one, she got a toothache. That meant a dentist. She got her womanly, it ruint her dress. I had to buy another. She eats like a horse. You ever fed a horse?” This tale of desperation had a ring of truth to it, not that cockamamie oil nonsense. “How long has she been…‘latched’ to you?” “Six months.” Half a year. Hundreds of nights where Merkel begrudged every spent cent. He was now at the point to barter her services. Good God. The villain probably defiled her himself. Grant had to know: “What exactly are you offering, should I win?” “Whatever you wish between now and breakfast’s end. You meet me back here at, say, ten in the morning. Treat her kindly, sir. Leave no visible scars that will ruin her for the Juarez market.” Grant looked at the girl. She was listening to the exchange, the poor thing. He turned back to the man who would sell her, as if she were a hunk of meat. “I’m to wager a half thousand gold-backed dollars to spend the night with a scared little girl?” “That’s the size of it. And you left out ‘virgin.’” “What does she have to say about that?” “She won’t mind. She takes what comes to her.” That thought further turned Grant’s stomach. He leaned toward Merkel to whisper, “Is she simpleminded?” “Pretty much. Has been since her baby sister died while in her care and keeping. Broke her spirit.” Grant wondered if anything good had ever happened to poor little Patience Sweet. Merkel was saying, “I’ve offered her to you for the night, because I know in my heart that Patience will sleep in her cozy bed at the Antlers Hotel tonight. And I’ll have my thousand dollars when I reach the Rio Grande.” “What about her father?” “If he has my asking price, I’ll do the right thing and let him have her. I won’t even ask for the full thousand.” “Aren’t you the gallant?” Grant sneered. “Tell me something. What makes you think she won’t have something to say about this?” Merkel rolled his stogie from one side of his mouth to the other. He leaned his chair back, propping himself up to grin. “That’s the beauty of it. Patience can’t speak. She’s a mute. She does as she’s told. Except to stay away from me.” He’s playing me for a fool. The issue became a case of betting five hundred dollars to save her from white slavery. Grant hitched a thumb toward the exit door. “Forget it. Get the hell out of here.” “Wait just a minute, sir.” Chair legs banged to the floor, sawdust swirling. “If you don’t take my offer, that means you just want to keep all the money I’ve wagered this evening.” “This is an honest game. You played. You won for a while. You started losing.” When that didn’t seem to sink in, Grant asked, “Do you not know there are laws against selling women’s favors?” It was then that he caught sight of the girl again. Standing now, the mending at her feet, her fingers were a steeple beneath her chin, begging his help. She mouthed the word “please.” He knew right then and there he had to win the hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Martha Hix grew up in Texas and didn’t mind listening to stories about how her ancestors had been in the place for a long, long time. Well, in Texas that just meant more than a hundred years. This weird kid soaked up the stories and became an ardent student of family and general history, which came in handy when she took to writing both fiction and non-fiction. Eventually, her romance novels were translated into many foreign languages, some of them very foreign, like Japanese, Greek, and Turkish. On the home front, she lives in the fabulous Texas Hill Country with her husband and their spoiled four-legged kids. Visit her on the web at marthahix.com.

 

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Bookbub Instagram *** Goodreads *** Amazon

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
 
 
 
Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/blog-tour-high-stakes-bride-martha-hix-excerpt-giveaway

Feature Friday: Marked by Jennifer Reynolds with Excerpt and Interview

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome the wonderful Jennifer Reynolds and her book Marked, the first book in the Valeterra series.

We will have info about the book and author. A great excerpt of the book plus a interview with Jennifer.

Make sure to check everything out and go and show her some support and add the book to your TBR ;) 

Happy Reading :) 


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For ten years, the people of Valeterra have watched a plague sweep across their world, killing nearly every supernatural creature in its path. As scientists from both the human world and Valeterra work on the way to stop the plague, the Valeterrian government is working on the way to repopulate their world with babies born immune to the disease.

In her thirties, single, and a bit of a bigger girl, Valerie has given up on ever finding love. She’s resigned herself to running her bookstore and growing old with only her baby sister. When a strange woman comes to her store with a story full of parallel universes, supernatural creatures, and plagues, and a proposal for how Valerie can help save Valeterra from extinction, Valerie is sure the woman is insane. Valerie’s opinion changes, though, when she loses her livelihood. Sad and angry, she throws caution to the wind and embarks on a journey that she fears will either kill her or break her heart.

Jackson lost his first mate over fifty years ago. He knows his world is in peril. He knows his pack is on shaky ground, but all the alpha wants to do is wallow in his grief. When he discovers that his second mate is a human woman who is also immune to the virus sweeping Valeterra, he has some hard decisions to make. He doesn’t want a new mate. He also knows that he can’t deny his second chance at love and the first real chance his world might have at eventually recovering from so much death.

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~~~Jackson~~~

“Are you sure you want to participate in this experiment, Sir?” my assistant, Stephanie Weems, asked, looking down at the files stacked in front of me on my desk. She looked relaxed, but I could smell anxiety radiating from her. “If I’m going to ask other alphas to do this, I think I should participate, don’t you?” I replied, purposefully leaning back in my chair, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while not eyeing one file in particular. Stephanie’s keen observational skills would notice me doing so if I wasn’t careful. She’d also catch the scent of lust emanating from me if I didn’t calm down. I couldn’t have either. The file and, more importantly, the woman detailed in said file that had made me decide to add my name to the short list of alphas who’d volunteered for the program in question wasn’t on top. I’d purposely buried it inside the stack so that Stephanie wouldn’t know it was what held my attention and so that I would stop looking at the woman’s photo.  

Hello Jennifer. Thank you for taking the time to stop in and chat with us, it is lovely to have you.

 

What was the best money you ever spent as a writer?

I would say that is a toss-up between hiring Rachel Olsen at No Sweat Graphics to create my covers and doing the Geek Gathering of the South event. I’ve been some amazing people at those events.

Do you read your book reviews? How do you deal with bad or good ones?

Every so often, I’ll go to Amazon or Goodreads and read my reviews. I usually handle bad reviews all right when it is clear the reader is being honest. The ones that are obvious that the reader did read the book or skimmed it or the ones where the reader’s give low reviews because of inconsequential things drive me nuts.

 

What’s your favorite under-appreciated novel? 

I’m not sure I have one. I think most novels I’ve absolutely loved a large number of people who have appreciated it as well. Now, I’ve disliked many that others like.

 

What does literary success look like to you?

Success to me means, getting a hundred reviews within the first month or a release and not having to spend all of my royalties each month on something book related.

 

Do you hide any secrets in your books that only a few people will find?

I don’t think so. I think certain things are probably funnier to those who know me.

 

 

Jennifer Reynolds is a native of North Alabama. She has a Master of Fine Arts degree from National University and a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of North Alabama.

She is a multi-genre author who focuses mostly on post-apocalyptic novels with plagues and zombies as their source of destruction and paranormal romances, especially shifters, weres, and ghosts. She does occasionally dabble in other genres such as general fiction, horror, and suspense thrillers.

When she’s not writing, she’s a full-time caregiver of her elderly in-laws, a stay at home wife, an avid reader, and the mother of a seven-year-old kitty named Lilith.

Brochure:

If you’d like to know more about me, Author Jennifer Reynolds, then check out this informational brochure.

HERE

 

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Amazon *** Instagram 

 

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Source: http://snoopydoosbookreviews.com/feature-friday-marked-jennifer-reynolds-excerpt-interview

#7 Follow Friday with book bloggers: Sailing in a Sea of Words

Reblogged from BookLikes:

Say hello to Kat in Follow Friday book bloggers talks!

 

Let's meet a blogger behind the Sailing in a Sea of Words blog:

http://travelerbypage.booklikes.com/

 

When have you recognized a book lover in you?

 

My love for reading was most definitely fostered and encouraged by my parents. They read to me as a child and I began reading on my own at a very young age. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t love reading. It’s a core part of me and without it, I would have a hard time recognizing myself. All of my other interests are born from the books that I’ve read.

 

Please pick three books you’d like to recommend to our readers?

 

Book #1: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. It’s a really brilliant thriller/suspense novel that is beautifully written and well-researched.

 

Book #2: The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro. Few books have sucked me in as well as this one. Tessaro’s knowledge of scent and her mastery of balancing two different timelines so that neither is lacking in detail and plot makes this book a real gem.

 

Book #3: The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo. This is another book that really sucked me in. I finished it in a matter of days because I needed to find out what happened next. It’s a beautiful coming-of-age story wrapped in mystery and supernatural elements. I’m eager to get my hands on whatever novel she publishes next.

 

The Perfume Collector - Kathleen TessaroThe Ghost Bride - Yangsze Choo

 

Why have you decided to start a book blog? Do you like it so far?

 

I wanted to keep a record of the books I read and my impressions of them. I wanted to make each entry as detailed as possible, but I’ve been having trouble with that as of late. Once I finish my next series of books I have lined up, I’m going to be changing the way I write the reviews so that I can take the time to provide the detail I’ve always wished to give. I love it! I’ve shared my blog with friends and family so they can keep up to date on my recommendations and what I’ve been reading. It helps give me extra incentive to keep going and not let myself fall behind on posting my reviews.

 

In your short bio you reveal you’re a writer! Please tell us more!

 

I haven’t published anything I’ve written online, but I’ve written a bunch of short stories. I’ve been outlining and playing with an idea for a novel, but I haven’t waded into the deeper waters as of yet. The short stories I’ve written mostly revolve around chance encounters and pushing the boundaries of the world one has lived in for all of his or her life.

 

You write “I tend to lean toward mystery and fiction, but I like to change patterns with the occasional YA or non-fiction book”. Which YA and non-fiction books have amazed you?

 

Blythewood - Carol Goodman I’ve only just started re-reading YA books within the last year or so. I enjoyed Blythewood by Carol Goodman.

As far as non-fiction goes, I’ve been exploring books related to topics I like as well as biographies. I really enjoyed Carl Sandburg’s biography of Abraham Lincoln  that’s broken up into the Prairie Years and the War Years. I also enjoyed Mrs. Kennedy and Me by Clint Hill. It’s a memoir of Hill’s time as Jackie Kennedy’s primary Secret Service agent. I really admire Jackie Kennedy and Hill’s memories made me want to dig deeper. I have a few books on the Kennedys and Jackie lined up for future reading. Stephen Sondheim’s Finishing the Hat has been really insightful as I love his musicals and I’ve had fun finding out his thoughts on the musicals he’s worked on.

 

Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years and the War Years - Carl SandburgMrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir - Clint Hill,Lisa McCubbinFinishing the Hat: Collected Lyrics, 1954-1981, With Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines, and Anecdotes - Stephen Sondheim

 

How much time do you spend reading?

 

Many people I know would say too much. I try to read every day. I have a long commute and I take public transportation so I read on my trips to and from work. On the weekends where I don’t have plans, I tend to read all day. That’s when I’ve been notorious for finishing books within hours.

 

What are your three favorite book covers?

 

Book #1: Arcadia Falls by Carol Goodman. This was the first Goodman book I read and the cover just drew me in with how mysterious and elegant it looks.

 

Book #2: The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson. It’s one of the most gorgeous covers I’ve ever seen. The fields of lavender leading up to the lonely looking cottage is so mysterious yet so soothing.

 

Book #3: Wicked Autumn by G.M. Malliet. If you worship autumn like I do, this cover speaks to that love and adoration. I love mysteries to begin with so it was helpful that this book was one, but I wanted the cover just as much.

 

Arcadia Falls - Carol GoodmanThe Lantern - Deborah LawrensonWicked Autumn - G.M. Malliet

 

What’s your reading spot? We’d love to see the photos :)

 

When’s a nice day, I’ll read in the window ledge in my living room. I’ll prop up a pillow, grab a blanket and read away.

 

 

A paper book or an e-book?

 

Paper book, always. I don’t want to strain my eyes, plus I love the texture and smell of books. I’ll never go all digital – not for books.

 

Three books for a desert island?

 

The Hound of the Baskervilles - Arthur Conan Doyle Book #1: The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It’s easily one of the best mystery novels of all time. I would argue that it is the best one, but I know many who would disagree. This book is responsible for my love of mysteries as my father read it to me when I was young. I love Sherlock Holmes so I need this novel, if not one of the collection of short stories. Who doesn’t love that line, Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound. Chills.

Arcadia Falls - Carol Goodman 

Book #2: Arcadia Falls by Carol Goodman. It’s not just the cover that I love about this novel. I adore the story and it’s one that I can read over and over and never get bored. It brings the feeling of autumn to me and I love that feeling, even if it’s while I’m on a desert island.

 

Pride and Prejudice (Penguin Classics) - Vivien Jones,Tony Tanner,Claire Lamont,Jane Austen Book #3: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I know I’m a minority, but I love Pride and Prejudice. It was close, as I would also love to bring Jane Eyre, but I just love Austen a little more. I need at least one love story on my island.

 

Favorite quote?

 

There are so many it’s hard to choose! I’m going to have to go with the inner romantic here:

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.

 

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

 

― Jane Austen, Persuasion

 

If you could meet one author, who would it be and why?

 

I’d love to meet Carol Goodman. She’s the only modern author where I have bought every single book she’s ever written. I haven’t read all of them (yet), but I love her writing, her subjects, and I would love to just chat with her on her writing as well as her inspiration.

 

The best thing about books?

 

The escape! Books allow you to travel to worlds and places too numerous to count. You can transcend time and place to follow the lives of people you’ve never met – both real and imagined. Books are an incredible gift and one that needs to be always appreciated.

 

Shelfie time! Please share your home library photos :)

 

I don’t have huge bookcases to house all of the books I own (yet), so here’s a photo of some of the books I have in my bookcase.

 

Thank you!

*

Missed previous Follow Friday talks? Use ffwithbookbloggers tag or click the catch up links:

 

 

Remember, you can nominate your blogger friends for the Follow Friday interview! Click here and leave the URL address in the comment section.

 

See you next Friday!

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