Category: Book Reviews

Blog Tour for Upon Broken Wings by EL Reedy and AM Wade (excerpt and giveaway)

Upon Broken Wings

E. L. Reedy & A. M. Wade have a new YA Paranormal book out:

Bound by a dark act of hate and despair, high school freshmen, Andrew and Kiernan, learn that their untimely deaths did not bring an end to their pain, but only began the suffering of those left behind. While his lost memories return, Andrew must master seemingly impossible feats, both spiritual and physical.

As a dark spirit stalks Kiernan through the borderlands of life and death, he must also face the pain his actions have caused his loved ones.

To save both their souls, Andrew must convince Kiernan to return to life and open his eyes to the love and beauty which had always been there.

Evernight Teen | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon Canada | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | QueeRomance Ink | Smashwords | Goodreads

Giveaway

The authors are giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour via rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

A Recollection of Death

—from Andrew Harowitz, Memories of the Living

My dearest Michael.

My love.

I still remember the moment I surrendered my broken heart on that last bitter, rainy day of October, burying it with a tattered piece of my soul beneath the cold, still ground.

You were there of course, dressed in your finest black suit and a matching dark tie, and I am sure you saw, as did I, the last traces of autumn fade to winter, in a cycle unbroken since the twilight of the Ice Age—in those ancient times when the last glaciers melted away from the northern continents and poured their essence into every sea and ocean of the world.

Great and small flocks of blackbirds and crows swept over us in their mysterious formations, some late to start their journey to the south, others simply launching into the sky—those that never leave our lands—they are like the keepers of death, winter’s closest ally. Tell me Michael, if you remember, did you hear them sing, as their melodies soared high into the heavens? It was a lonely sound like that of a train whistle before sunrise, or the roar of the long-trucks, rolling down the highways between cities late at night.

Did you know that it’s on the first day of spring that life truly begins for the newborns and young? It renews for the old still blessed to be with us, and for those of us caught up in the turbulent in-between years, it is just another marker of the slow passage of time.

We followed the long hearse that day in a car, black as coal, with windows tinted for the privacy of all. Your parents sat on the back seat beside me. Did you see them there? Listen to your mother’s cries? Watch your father’s falling tears? Did you look upon me, lost so far inside myself that I showed no emotion at all?

Our procession crossed the city of Fair Cedar on a journey spanning from the church to the cemetery. As has always been custom, we ignored the stoplights and stop signs on the way, cutting off traffic and slowing only for turns and bumpy sections of road.

When we at last entered the misty graveyard, the rust-shrouded iron gates squeaked as they swung open. I heard and even felt their haunting echo that followed us along the curving drive through the forest of tombstones and trees.

I saw yellow and orange lilies, and roses, both white and red, among the grave markers and stones. Did you see them dying in weather more unstable than crackling ice on a thawing lake? Looking past them, I saw statues of angels and saints, bright as stars, when brief breaks in the gray clouds let the sunshine pass down to the earth below.

I remember every bump in the road, Michael, as from my window, I watched the passing trees, without a leaf on their branches—they seemed naked in the cold, half hidden by distance, the thickness of the haze, but more so by the tears that refused to drip from my burning red eyes.

Our sad parade parked, stretched along the side of the road, and I lost count of those who stepped out from their warm cars to join us in the damp, cold air. I followed just behind your parents and they followed their parish priest. He was dressed in his cassock and robe and carrying his crucifix before him like an upraised sword. For reasons I still don’t understand, I think I cracked a smile at the oddity of it all, but it was gone before anyone else saw it.

Your mother and father walked close, their hands held tight between them. But I only held white roses, still on their stems, which I had done all too often, and everyone else clutched tightly to umbrella handles, sympathy cards, and bouquets of many colors.

I heard a haunting whistle that filled my soul with dread, but it was only the echo of the wind, blowing through the branches of the trees. It made me feel so alone, Michael, in a place all gray, empty, and almost silent. I truly wept then. I cried in those days and more times after that than I could ever hope to count.

Though it was cold, I wore only a black jacket and matching pants, no coat or gloves to keep me warm. My suit was an older one of yours that your parents let me borrow, not brand new like the one you wore that day. My arms were too short for my hands to even reach the ends of the sleeves. I looked silly and I wanted to laugh, but by then, I had forgotten how.

We came at last to a casket resting at the center of a large velvet cloth—it was the second I’d seen that day, Michael. Do you remember why? I think they were trying to hide from us the open pit beneath it, but we all knew the truth—the ever-hungry earth awaited on yet another feast.

I stayed near you and your parents throughout the entire service, but not too close. I was not their beloved son. They were not my heartbroken parents.

A fire burned inside of me, Michael. Twice, I think I nearly threw up, but I stayed steady and strong. I stood firm for the soul once belonging to the body resting in the mahogany box, too long for a child and too short for an adult, but just the right size for a fourteen-year-old boy. The lid of course remained closed. We both knew why, didn’t we?

Thunder rumbled far and near, and the crows cried out, launching from the trees in formation for reasons unknown. My world went hazy. I wiped the tears away with my sleeves, but they just kept flowing like a waterfall down both of my frozen cheeks.

I watched your mother and father, leaning on one another, as the stone-faced priest read from his prayer book. I wanted a shoulder for my weary head. I needed a hug or at least some sort of touch, but you would not even look my way. You only stared at the sky with your eyelids closed tight. No one, Michael, no one consoled me—my grief ran through me unchecked, a sorrow much too deep for an already grieving boy of thirteen years to bear alone.

A shadow of the approaching storm fell upon us. It grew dark. A strong wind ripped away flowers and stole umbrellas. Then it started to drizzle. And the drizzle became a downpour.

I opened my eyes wide and tilted back my head, with my mouth open. Do you remember when we used to catch raindrops on the tips of our tongues? We were younger then, and the drops tasted sweet, not like the bitterness I felt in those passing days of loneliness and death.

Your father, who had always been kind, offered me his umbrella, but I only shook my head. I wanted—no, I needed—to feel every icy touch of water, as it soaked through my suit. I shivered, but the fires of grief flowing through me remained. I burned inside, hot like an open flame.

The priest’s words seemed mumbled, but I am sure that it was a fine eulogy. My attention was focused on a coffin containing a boy only a year older than me. He was but a child stolen away by twisting metal, exploding glass, and the unquenchable thirst of a river swollen well past its banks.

Your mother lost it then, Michael, did you see? Did you hear her cries? She beat her fists against your father’s chest, and he just held her, whispering words of comfort for her alone.

I watched in tearful silence, as other wives, sisters, and daughters fell into the arms of their brothers, husbands, and sons. Their weeping seemed like a great and sorrowful symphony that only brought pain to my ears. There were no shoulders for me to rest my head upon, though, no one held me. You kept your arms at your sides, and you stared at the sky with your eyes shut tight.

I fell to the ground, and the sky unleashed a deluge. My knees splashed in the sodden muck, but I barely noticed. Then I heard a scream, a roar that knocked me flat. Michael, do you remember? I do. I’ll never forget. That scream was mine, from my own lips, but it came from somewhere much deeper.

I thought that you touched me then on my shoulder, and I thought I heard your gentle laugh, and even a whispering of your voice, sad and quiet. I looked up then, but it was only your father, reaching out to help me back to my feet.

I was all alone, Michael. You were there, but you would not meet my eyes. You didn’t even look my way. You only stared, as ever you will, into that mysterious beyond. I buried my heart that day, Michael. I buried my love on the last day of October, in the rain, when we buried you.

Author Bio

E. L. Reedy — Was born and raised in Iowa, where he devoured tomes of fantasy, sci-fi, and young adult novels as a child. In his free time, he is an avid gamer (D&D and Pathfinder). He has traveled the world as a soldier in the U.S. Army, and now lives in Iowa, where with his writing partner, he continues to pen works in the realms of Fantasy and Horror in the Young Adult Universe.

A. M. Wade — As the only girl in a family with five boys, she readily escaped into fantasy, sci-fi, and other fiction novels. Having traveled through most of the US, she enjoys using scenery and characteristics of the different states in the story adventures she created for the little ones in her family. Now, she writes sci-fi, fantasy and horror with a lifelong co-conspirator.

Author Website: https://oflightandshadow.blog/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/oflightandshadow7/

Author Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/elreedy http://amazon.com/author/amwade

New Book Release Tour for Unforgivable (Accidental Roots #6) by Elle Keaton (excerpt and giveaway)

Unforgivable

Elle Keaton has a new MM Romantic Suspense book out on May 18th:

No one ever said it would be easy.

Running away from his messy divorce did not bring Ira Fragale the peace he sought. If he is going to get his life together he needs to pull up his big boy pants and take care of business. He’s been hiding out licking his wounds in Skagit for two years now, keeping his head down (except for the trail of twinks he’s left behind). Something’s going to give.

Cameron McCulloch needs to knock Ira off the pedestal he’s placed him on. Because he’s older doesn’t mean Ira has any clearer idea about life and the universe than Cam. Cam needs to focus on his own needs and forget about Ira, but he can’t. Bartending at the Loft is easy and he likes the community he’s fallen into since his family rejected him, but if he wants more out of life he’s going to have to go out and get it himself.

Ira didn’t choose Skagit at random, he came to the small city because events twenty years ago set him on his path on today. The mystery of his father’s murder may never be solved but Ira would like to lay his spirit to rest.

None of this explains the upswing of possible hate crime in Skagit. The small town has its share of trouble but someone, or someones, are on the prowl, harassing the LGBTQ community, and Cameron is in their crosshairs.

Amazon Coming Soon

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a n eBook copy of “As Sure As the Sun,” book four in Elle’s “Accidental Roots” series. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win.

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Excerpt

Ira supposed as he had many times, that his job wasn’t much different than Cameron’s. Cam of the golden brown hair and deep amber eyes. Cam who was so off limits that Ira shouldn’t even be thinking his name. Too young, too smart, too quick to find Ira’s soft spots. Ira’d had a moment of weakness and they’d a freakishly pleasant weekend together but he hadn’t let it continue.

And, yeah, Ira couldn’t stop himself from going to the Loft where Cam worked, but at least he hadn’t gone home with him again. A win for the team.

The door burst open again and, shit, it was the kid from the other night. Ira should have known better, but Ira’d wanted company and he’d made himself very available. Too late Ira realized he had starry eye’s and boyfriend practically tattooed on his forehead.

“Hey, Ira.” He had his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans, his hips cocked in what he probably thought was a cute pose. At the Loft, Ira’d thought he was thirtyish. In daylight, he was adjusting that estimate down to barely twenty-one and cursing himself. Ira liked younger men, he enjoyed the enthusiasm, in bed and out, and their worldviews – so different than the scary gay-aids world of the 1980s and 90s that Ira had experienced first hand. The problem was not they were too young but that Ira was too old.

Ira searched his memory, they’d gone to the kid’s apartment and had sex. Ira had left regardless of him telling Ira he could stay, he couldn’t remember his name. Kevin? Shaun? No. Colin?

He finished cleaning another table then made his way to the front counter to help make drinks and dole out pastries. “Did you need something?” he asked Cary – he was sure of it – on his way by.

Cary’s pale complexion flushed a rosy pink. “Oh, uh, not really,” Ira could see him scrambling to come up with an excuse for having stopped by. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

He walked behind the counter where the counter kid was staring at the influx of newcomers, “Sebastian you want to make drinks or take their money?”

“Uh,” Sebastian stared at Ira through the thick lenses of his glasses, stalling out. Ira watched Cary leave without ordering anything. Wonderful, his reputation as a complete and utter asshole was untarnished.

“I’ll do drinks,” Ira said and pushed past Sebastian to get to the machine.

Ira should’ve asked Sara for the day off but he’d hoped an extra shift would keep him distracted, and anyway he had days ahead of him to brood. Nothing could distract Ira from the fact that this was the month that his father had been murdered nearly twenty years ago, and two years since his life fell apart a second time. Over two years since he’d talked to any of his remaining family. To Simon.

The squeal of the steam wand and hiss of the heads as hot water was forced through the portafilters lulled Ira into a kind of calm. He made several espresso drinks, chatting mindlessly with the uniformed cops who were waiting for their caffeine.

A familiar voice insinuated itself past his shell of serenity. Ira had to force himself not to turn toward the sound of Cameron McCulloch ordering a drink. Cameron was at the end of the line, saying hi to a cop standing in front of him. Ira snuck a look to see if he was with anyone. Cam waited, rocking back on his heels with his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, not talking to anyone else. On his own then.

As he often did, Cam had his long brown-blonde hair tied back in a messy knot. Ira supposed it was a man bun or whatever but on Cameron it was natural and incredibly sexy. Cameron had an air of friendliness, which probably came from being a bartender, or his naturally sweet personality. But he also had a sadness about him, an invisible cloak giving him a shadow. He hid it well, but Ira saw it. Was afraid to learn more about it, knowing that the more he knew the harder it would be to keep him at arms-length.

Cameron saw Ira glance over at him but didn’t crack a smile. He acted like they didn’t know each other. Yep, Ira was an asshole and a hypocrite. And maybe he didn’t have to worry about keeping Cam at arms-length anymore. For reasons he didn’t want to examine, he found the thought unsettling.

Cam claimed his Americano muttering a terse, “Thanks.” Then he went and sat at the farthest open table from the front. Ira went back to what he was doing but he had Cameron radar. He knew exactly where Cameron was in the room and, exactly when another man came and sat down at his table.

Ira felt anger rise, hot and heavy. Cameron greeted the stranger with obvious pleasure, first a handshake before the other man pulled him into a hug. Was it unreasonable to expect that Cameron wouldn’t meet dates where Ira worked? Hypocrite.

The line continued to grow, and Ira spent the next hour with his head down making coffees as quickly as he could. He knew when Cameron and his friend left and forced himself to focus on what he was doing, to not look up and watch the two of them leave together. He was the one who didn’t want anything, who’d seen the compassion and caring in Cameron’s eyes. He was the one who was broken and would make a nice guy like Cameron miserable in the long run.

 

Much later, after his extra-long shift at the Booking Room finally drew to a close, Ira half-heartedly tried to convince himself not to go to the Loft for a drink. It was a Friday though, and he had the next few days off. Cameron had shown up at his work, no reason he couldn’t go to Cameron’s.

Tomorrow he would quit showing up at the Loft, and stop picking up men young enough to be his kid. Stop thinking about Cameron McCulloch. The weekend they’d spent together. God. Ira was such a shit. Yeah and tomorrow he’d get his act together enough to pick up a paintbrush and actually do something with it.

Their weekend together had been incredible. Ira’d been relaxed, happy, comfortable with himself for the first time in years. He’d enjoyed the sex, of course, but he’d also soaked up the conversation, small touches, and Cameron’s genuine caring personality. They’d binge-watched stupid TV shows and compared music playlists. Ira’d teased Cameron about his ratty collection of Jane Eyre novels until Cameron had pulled one from the shelf and started reading aloud to him. Jane Eyre was forever going to be on Ira’s top ten.

They’d snuck out for food, Cameron’s small refrigerator laid bare after a couple rounds in the sack, they’d both been ravenous. Pretending the weekend could turn into more had been far too easy for Ira to imagine. Which is why he’d ended it before it went too far. Ira was damaged goods, somehow Cameron would learn the truth about him. If he let Cameron in Ira didn’t think he could knit himself back together again after he left.

Those two magical days had been a vacation from the unadulterated fuckery that was Ira’s real life. When Sunday evening finally rolled around reality had set in. Ira’d messed up enough lives, he needed to make sure Cameron didn’t think Ira was able to give him anything. So, he’d been an asshole. Yeah, Ira.

He rubbed his chest, it was like he had actual physical pain when he thought about what he had done and the pain he’d caused. He missed them both, so much. The tears caught him by surprise.

Author Bio

Author/imaginator & photographer (also rare Pacific Northwest Native), Elle grew up in Seattle, WA., with the Cascade Mountain range to the east and Olympics to the west.

Elle shares her life with between three to five cats (depending on who’s counting), an extremely patient fiancé and a flock of young adults. She’s lived in four US states, London England, and Hong Kong; always knows what time it is, and has little problem finding parking even in the most difficult places.

Elle’s series made its debut spring of 2017. Accidental Roots is set in the Skagit Valley of Western Washington. Writing has always been a passion but not something she was able to take seriously until recently. Some journeys are longer than others. Now her head is full of ideas and not enough time in each day. As far as we know she wasn’t actually raised by wolves.

Contemporary Romance Spotlight: Lover (Survivor #2) by T.M. Smith (giveaway)

Lover (Survivor #2) by T.M. Smith

 

 

 

Lover – A Survivor story

Life has not always been kind to Shannon Dupree. On the outside he’s carefree and fun loving, but when it comes to his past he’s evasive and secretive. Running away from emotionally bereft parents at just fifteen, Shannon escapes life with them but steps into the waiting arms of the devil.

Rory Landers is a rising star at the Bureau. His personal life, however, is nothing to write home about. He hopes to take his limited relationship with Frank Moore to the next level when they finally solve the Langford murder case, but that doesn’t turn out as planned. On the plus side, he meets free-spirited college senior Shannon Dupree.

Rand Davis finds himself fortysomething and single when his partner of more than a decade is unfaithful. Taking over the Cold Case Squad frees up some of his time, and Rand welcomes newfound friendships within the Langford-Moore family circle. He thinks relationships are not in the cards for him until he meets an agent with an attitude and a vivacious blond that make him want so much more.

Past, present, pain, and suffering collide, ushering in the possibility of a life and love worth fighting for. Although their personalities couldn’t be more different, their three hearts beat the same. Shannon, Rory, and Rand learn the definition of love, commitment, and strength and if they allow themselves, the trio will find all that and more—in each other.

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2F2SZHd

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2HfXjEV

Amazon DE: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B07CJ2ZV7P

Amazon AU:  https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07CJ2ZV7P

Amazon CA: https://goo.gl/LnDeGV

B&N: https://goo.gl/TgEqh9

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/817984

Payhip – https://payhip.com/b/U3vO

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lover-15

Playster – https://play.playster.com/books/10009781386784357/x

 

About the Author~TM Smith

A military brat born and raised at Ft. Benning Georgia; TM Smith is an avid reader, reviewer and writer. A Texas transplant, she now calls DFW her home. Most days she can be found curled up with a good book, or ticking away on her next novel.

Smith is a single mom of three disturbingly outspoken and decidedly different kids, one of which is Autistic. Besides her writing, she is passionate about Autism advocacy and LGBT rights. Because, seriously people, Love is Love!

Website: www.authortmsmith.com
Blog: www.ttcbooksandmore.com
Facebook Author: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTMSmith
Facebook All Cocks series: https://www.facebook.com/AllCocksStories
Twitter – https://twitter.com/TTCBooksandmore
GoodReads: https://goo.gl/XQugse
Pinterest: https://goo.gl/cq9R9t
Youtube: https://goo.gl/Rpq5gX
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1muE5AA

** giveaway – The giveaway is an ebook from the author’s backlist to one winner EXCLUDING Lover and it’s sequel.  Must be 18 years of age or older to enter.  Leave a comment and your email address where you can be reached if chosen.  Giveaway ends midnight on Sunday.

A MelanieM Review: The Dragon of Ynys by Minerva Cerridwen

 

Rating: 5 stars out of 5

 

Every time something goes missing from the village, Sir Violet makes his way to the dragon’s cave and negotiates the item’s return. It’s annoying, but at least the dragon is polite.

But when the dragon steals a person, that’s a step too far. As Sir Violet ventures out to get the missing baker back, however, he quickly realizes things are not at all what they seem..

Ever read a story that made your heart smile? That left you feeling warm, happy, and with an urge to read it out loud to someone?  Children, adults?  Just because you wanted to spread the joy a special tale had given you?  Well, The Dragon of Ynys by Minerva Cerridwen  is that story.

After I finished it, I wanted to grab onto the author and publishers and beg them to put it out in a hardback version, complete with illustrations.  One I could pick up and read to groups of children, no matter the age or even adults for that matter.

This book is charming, adventurous, and brings out the best in it’s characters.  Perhaps in its readers as well because it speaks to the heart in a gentle, kind, and  humorous way.  It has a dragon that steals things because it’s lonely and wants companionship. And just maybe  because certain things strike it as pretty or downright hilarious.  It has a knight named Sir Violet who’s nature is gentle and home loving.  And a village that suits them both.  I mean really, it’s full of characters who are absolutely a delight to spend time with (as you will) and whose lives will pique your interest (oh yes, they do).

I can’t remember reading any novelette I loved more recently.

I need to find more stories by this author.  This story is beautifully written, concise, and yet it flows just as it should.  The characterizations are perfect for the story.  Would I mind a return?  No.  Do I need one? No.  I think its marvelous as it.

Do you love fantasy?  Here’s a jewel you shouldn’t miss out on.  There is a romance but not the one you might be thinking of. Definitely no sex.  I told you I would read this to children.  There is a F/F couple, a dragon and knight to die for and so much more.  I highly recommend  The Dragon of Ynys by Minerva Cerridwen.  

Cover art:  Kirby Crow.  I love it.  It’s perfect really for the tone of the story.

Sales Links:  Less Than Three Press | Amazon

Book Details:

ebook, 94 pages
Expected publication: May 16th 2018 by Less Than Three Press
ISBN139781684312863
Edition LanguageEnglish

A Free Dreamer Review: Hawk In The Rowan (The Rowan Harbor Cycle #4) by Sam Burns

Rating: 3.5 stars out of 5

Devon Murphy has been back in Rowan Harbor for three months. He’s taken on a host of new responsibilities, and is in a serious relationship for the first time in his life. He loves the town and its inhabitants, but it’s starting to feel like too much for the former drifter.

Now there’s a storm on the horizon, and it doesn’t seem like things are going to slow down and let him catch his breath. A blizzard is brewing, and three people have gone missing in the woods south of town. Devon needs to find them before time runs out.

This book is the fourth of nine in The Rowan Harbor Cycle, not a standalone. Devon and Wade will return in book seven for their HEA.

Devon and Wade from book one are back in this fourth installation of the series. They’re my least favourite couple of the three. Devon is just too genuinely nice. While we do find out a little more about his heritage and how that influences his character, I still just can’t quite bring myself to like him.

Nor am I too fond of the relationship dynamic. It always reminds me a little of the big bad Alpha (Wade) and the poor helpless little twink (Devon). It doesn’t help that Wade is actually a werewolf, which makes the whole dynamic even more pronounced. We do see some moments of Devon standing up for himself, so I might just come to like him one day…

“Hawk in the Rowan” mostly focuses on Devon and Wade and their relationship woes. There’s also a storm and some other ominous things happening around town. But overall, it definitely showed that this is the shortest book of the series so far. It felt like we were only just getting started on the real plot at the end. It just wasn’t quite satisfactory and felt more like a little short story between two “real” books. A shame, because I think even Devon and Wade have great potential that just got lost due to not enough pages.

I’m usually very bad at keeping up with series I start, especially if they have more than three or four parts. But something about “Rowan Harbor” just has me coming back for more. While this fourth installation was a bit of a disappointment, I’ll definitely read book five and hopefully the rest of the series as well. I just hope the books will get longer again instead of shorter…

Cover Design: Melanie Harlow @ Clause & Effect.   The is beautiful. I really like it and it fits the story perfectly.

Sales Link:  Universal Buy Link

  
The Rowan Harbor Cycle Series
 
Book #1 – Blackbird In The Reeds
Book #2 – Wolf and the Holly
Book #3 – Fox and Birch
 

Book details:

Kindle Edition, 1 edition, 152 pages
Published May 3rd 2018
Original TitleHawk in the Rowan
ASINB07CQ8M5H1
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesThe Rowan Harbor Cycle #4

A Free Dreamer Review: Fox and Birch (The Rowan Harbor Cycle #3) by Sam Burns

Rating: 4 stars out of 5

Fletcher Lane wants to protect people. It was why he became a deputy. A month ago, it was why he killed a vampire who kidnapped one of his friends. Now, that death has started a cascade effect that’s tearing his life apart, leaving him possessed by magic that whispers to him in ancient Gothic.

While he’s already fighting for control of his own mind, he has to hold it together when strangers come into town looking for the dead vampire. They say they’re bounty hunters, but Fletcher knows that’s a lie. They’re the same kind of murderers who killed Fletcher’s mother. When one of them puts up a kind front, Fletcher knows that people who hunt the supernatural can’t be trusted. However nice Conner Mason seems, the worst thing Fletcher could do is fall for his act.

First of all, “Fox and Birch” is not a standalone story. While we meet the third (and final) couple in this book, the events in the previous books are too important for the overall story arc to just skip over and still understand what’s going on in book three.

I liked Fletcher. He’s very different from our other MCs, much more vulnerable but also so very strong. We don’t learn much about Conner, his love interest. But that’s okay, it’s their first book and I’m sure we’ll find out more about him as the story continues.

However, since we really don’t know much of anything about one of our MCs, the romantic feelings were a little hard to follow. They barely know each other and Fletcher has every reason to distrust and even hate Conner. Conner coming across as a genuinely nice guy just wasn’t enough for me to understand Fletcher’s feelings. Even though there’s no magic zap like the werewolves of Rowan Harbor get when they meet their fated mates, this smacked awfully of insta-love, something I can’t stand.

Aside from the love story, I quite enjoyed this book. Fletcher’s abilities are really interesting and so very different from what we’ve seen so far. I’ve never read about a fox shifter before and I can’t wait to find out even more about him and his unusual talents.

This was my second favourite book in the series so far. I liked book two a little more because there was more focus on the world building. And I think Fletcher might actually be my favourite character of them all. So I’m eager for the next book about him.

The cover by Melanie Harlow is nice to look at. Maybe a little too nice, because the overall tone of the book definitely felt more sinister to me.

Sales Links:  Universal Buy Link

Book details:

Kindle Edition, 166 pages
Published March 8th 2018
ASINB07B6P29KP
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesThe Rowan Harbor Cycle #3

An Alisa Review : Five Dares by Eli Easton

Rating:  4 stars out of 5

Andy Tyler has been the class daredevil since middle school. Over the years, he’s convinced his best friend, Jake Masterson, to perform some dangerous-looking stunts with him. But the dare they attempt on the night of their college graduation goes sideways. The firecrackers explode too soon and both of them end up with badly burned palms.

But hey, nothing gets the “terrible duo” down for long, and they recuperate in style at Andy’s family cottage in Nantucket. As the weeks go by, both Andy and Jake grow frustrated over the inability to use their hands for all sorts of daily activities-including getting off. So Andy begins a new series of dares that don’t just cross the friendship line, they obliterate it.

But what might be mere sexual relief to Andy is serious business to Jake, who only recently got over years of secret pining for his straight best friend. Inevitably, the burns heal, summer ends, and hearts are broken. To fix things, Andy will have to face the greatest dare of all.

I enjoyed this story and loved how I got to see bits and pieces of their past together to help picture these two characters together.  Andy is a daredevil and everyone loves him but the one person he wants to have the attention of is Jake.  Jake has spent the last few years trying to mentally and emotionally separate himself from Andy knowing that they will be separating after college and knew he needed the time to actually do it.

They end up with a few more months together when they injure their hands and Andy starts to push Jake in ways he never thought.  They are both suckers for dares and don’t want to say no.

I liked both of these characters, maybe not the things that they have always done but I love how easy it was to love these guys and see how they are feeling.  They just need to learn to talk about their emotions.  I could feel their pain at having to be apart and how hard it was to navigate their lives without the other.  I loved watching Andy come to the conclusion that he has always loved Jake but didn’t realize that’s what it was and how one that happened he jumps in with both feet.  I loved their reunion scene and the future that they are building together.

The cover art by Nathasha Snow is great and I love the picture of these two together.

Sales Link: Amazon

Book Details:

ebook, 232 pages

Published: 2nd edition, April 2, 2018 by Pinkerton Road

Edition Language: English

Book Release Tour: Eli Easton on Robbie Riverton: Mail Order Bride (excerpt and giveaway)

Robby Riverton Excerpt – Robby Meets Rowena
 
By Eli Easton


AUTHOR’S NOTE – In “Robby Riverton”, set in 1860, a young actor is forced to go on the run after witnessing a murder. He ends up disguising himself as a mail order bride, “Rowena”, to escape his pursuers. In this scene, Robby is trying to make his escape when he’s confronted by Trace, the local sheriff and brother of Rowena’s fiancé.

Robby looked around for a saddle. He checked every space in the barn and was surprised not to find any tack at all, not even the reins or harnesses for the wagon. All he found was a door with a big padlock on it near the horse stalls.

Was this the tack room? Why would they lock it? It felt ominous, as if they were trying to hold him prisoner. It did nothing to ease his creeping sense of dread.

He jiggled the padlock. It was solid and heavy.

He was about to turn away when a hand closed over his mouth and a strong arm wrapped around him, grabbing him tight. A scream got stuck in his throat.

“Quiet!” drawled a man’s voice in his ear. “It’s me, Trace. I’m not gonna hurt you, Mr. Riverton.”

* * *

Trace wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle the young man in his arms or tuck him under his wing and protect him. But he did know he needed answers. And, by God, he was going to get them.

Riverton was still in the woman’s get-up, that green dress and bonnet. But there was nothing feminine about the tight muscles against his chest, or against his arm where it was pressed to Riverton’s taut waist. He didn’t fight. He just stood there, frozen.

“I’m just here to talk to ya. All right?” Trace whispered, annoyed at the way the huge brim of the bonnet got in his way.

Riverton nodded once, and Trace let him go.

He turned, slowly, raising his hands. Trace kept his hand near his gun and took his time studying Riverton’s face by lantern light. He looked defiant—and fearful. And he was just as damned attractive as Trace remembered. Only now that Trace knew he was a man, that objective appraisal of handsomeness hit him in an entirely different way, caused a warm tightening in his gut. Not that it mattered a whit. Trace was fit to be tied.

“Well, Mr. Riverton. I’ve seen some sticky situations in my life, but this one takes the prize.”

Riverton slumped back against the wall of a horse stall, instantly defeated. “Bollocks. I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just trying to evade the Bowery Boys.”

Trace’s gaze flickered to the horses. “That may be. But you steal a horse from Pa, and even God won’t be able to help ya.”

Riverton covered his face with his hands. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the stable floor. And Trace… Trace actually felt sorry for him. He was still irate, but sympathy was edging in too.

He squatted down a few feet from Riverton, elbows on his knees, and pulled out a smoke. He rolled it between his thumb and finger and lit it. He took a drag and offered it to Riverton, nudging his knee to get his attention.

Riverton looked at the smoke and shook his head. “It’s bad for your voice, and… I’m an actor.”

“Kind of figured that. What with the [WANTED] poster and all,” Trace said dryly. “Robby Riverton. That even your real name?”

“Yes, it is my real name. But just call me Robby, if you please.” Robby searched Trace’s face, as though trying to judge how mad he was. His eyes were desperate, his face drawn tight in the lantern glow. Trace felt an urge to reassure him, but he hardened himself to the feeling.

“Here’s the thing, Robby. I don’t like trouble in my town, much less in the midst of my own damn family. It’s too much work. And this here is a whole stinkin’ mess of trouble. I’ll give ya one chance to tell your side of the story. And I wouldn’t lie, if I were you.”

Robby nodded vigorously. He seemed eager to talk. He told Trace about witnessing a murder in New York City, and about how he’d thought he’d slipped the gang members until they caught up with the wagon train two days ago. He told Trace about Miss Fairchild, and how she’d left with a new beau in Dodge City. He’d put on her clothes in desperation.

“I planned to slip away in Santa Fe. But then the Bowery Boys caught me, and you came along, and then Wayne and Marcy. And now…here I am. No matter what I do, the hole just gets deeper.” Robby’s voice was a hiss. “Believe me, Sheriff, there’s no one sorrier about this situation than me!”

Trace wanted to believe him, and he mostly did. But there were parts of it that didn’t quite hang together. He thoughtfully smoked his cigarette down to a nub, then ground it out on the stable floor and put the remnant in his pocket.

“Well?” Robby asked, voice shaky. “Are you going to give me away or help me? Because if you’re going to give me away, maybe you should just kill me now!”

Trace snorted. “Calm down there, Beauregard. I ain’t gonna kill ya. I’m just orderin’ things in my mind. Give me a minute.”

Robby held his tongue while Trace thought about it a little more. Dang. It really was a shit stew. Looked like he could wave good-bye to his nice, quiet existence.

“What did Pa make of ya today?”

Robby grimaced. “No one seems suspicious, if that’s what you mean. But Pa-Pa was pushing to have the wedding tomorrow. I told him I was sick, and I went to bed early. But I don’t know how long I can hold him off. Can you take me back to town with you? I’ll pay you for your trouble.”

Trace scratched his neck. “I’m not sure that’s the wisest course. I have a feelin’ those, whaddya call ’em, Bowery Boys, will be coming to Flat Bottom lookin’ for ya. And if they hear Miss Fairchild absconded, they’ll smell a rat. If they don’t suspect you’re Riverton already, that’d do it.”

Robby’s brow furrowed, and he clenched his arms tightly over his chest. “Why would they come to Flat Bottom? I answered their questions. Or rather, Rowena did. Surely they’ll go back along the trail, maybe to Fort Union.”

Trace heaved an unhappy sigh. He wanted to light another cigarette. He wanted to reach out and comfort Robby. He did neither. “Look here, before I left Santa Fe, I did some checkin’ up on that wagon train of yours. Learned a man was found with his throat slit behind the saloon. His name was Stoltz.”

Robby flinched. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

He slumped over, head to his knees, and Trace didn’t curb the impulse to reach out and lay a steadying hand on his shoulder. For a moment, Robby just breathed in harsh pants, head hung low. He seemed overcome by fear or maybe rage.

If this reaction was a charade, it sure was a convincing one. Even for an actor.

After a bit, Trace pulled back his hand. “Ya knew Stoltz?”

“He owned the wagon I rode in. It’s my fault he’s dead.” Robby’s voice was wrecked.

“No, now, come on.” Trace grasped Robby by the arms and stood, bringing them both to their feet. “Pull yourself together, son. I’m surely sorry for your loss. But it’s not your fault they came after ya, not your fault there are bad men in the world.”

Robby looked at him doubtfully, his eyes damp. “Do you think they… Do you think they got him to confess before…?”

Trace shook his head. “Stoltz was stiff and cold when I saw him, so he must have been dead when those men waylaid ya in the street. Seems to me they didn’t know ya were Riverton then. But they sure are determined. If they went after Stoltz that hard, I figure there’s a chance they’re not done with Miss Fairchild either.”

“Why won’t they just stop?” Robby asked fiercely. “Why the hell would they chase me all this way? I don’t understand it!”

Yeah, that was the part that didn’t smell right to Trace either. He watched Robby’s face. “You sure ya didn’t skip a few details? Like maybe ya got somethin’ that belongs to them? A pile of their money, maybe?”

“No!” Robby pulled away from Trace angrily. “I told you, I saw Mose McCann commit murder from across the alley. I never even got close to them! The only thing they want is the memory in my head.” He tapped his temple pointedly.

“Well.” Trace shrugged. “You’d best stay put for now. I’ll see what I can find out. In a couple days, we’ll reassess the situation.”

“In a couple of days!”

Robby looked so stricken that Trace felt doubt. He didn’t like leaving Robby at the ranch, fooling his family. He knew how much of a stubborn jackass his father could be. And Clovis… Probably the less time “Rowena” spent around Clovis the better.

God damn. Trace wondered what the heck Clovis made of his intended, anyway. The pair of them were as mismatched as bees and bears—in either of Robby’s forms. But the idea that Clovis might fall for his new bride-to-be was unsettling.

But there was an urge, deep down in Trace’s bones, to protect Robby. Those Bowery Boys—the way they’d treated Miss Fairchild on the street, the way they’d slit Stoltz’s throat… Robby didn’t stand a chance against them. No. Trace might not trust Robby completely, but he didn’t want to see him dead. And if protecting him meant causing his family a bit of inconvenience for a few days? Well, there were worse problems.

He wrapped his fingers around Robby’s forearm without really meaning to. Worry softened his voice. “Look, I don’t much care for the setup myself, but this is serious. So, tell me honestly. Do you think ya can fool Pa and the others a bit longer?”

Robby blinked at him. “Can’t we just explain things to your Pa?”

Trace barked a laugh. “Hell, no. Wayne said Pa paid two hundred dollars to get Clovis a wife.”

Robby snorted. “Yes, he mentioned that only a dozen times tonight.”

“Well, if there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to make Pa feistier than a nest of riled-up hornets, it’s wastin’ money. If he finds out ya ain’t Miss Fairchild, you’ll be out on your fanny so fast, your head will spin.”

Robby sighed and frowned. Then he sighed some more. His arm turned in Trace’s grasp, and his fingers grabbed Trace’s coat. It seemed unconscious, like Robby was depending on him. The small move brought a lump to Trace’s chest.

“I guess I can keep this up for a few more days,” Robby admitted. “As long as I can hold off the wedding. I get the feeling everyone’s on their best behavior. I suppose we’re in the wooing stage.” He smiled wryly.

Trace nodded. “That makes sense. Pa will want to make sure his investment pans out. That’s good.”

Robby moved a little closer. His green eyes seemed to glow in the lantern light. “But couldn’t you just hide me in town?”

“Look, I’m tryin’ to save your hide. I need to check on some things, and I can’t be watchin’ over ya at the same time. My pa and brothers might not be fancy or sophisticated, but their orneriness is in our favor. If those men show up here makin’ demands and wavin’ guns, they’ll be in a world of hurt.”

Robby’s expression relented, and he nodded. “Very well. The show will go on.”

“All right, then. Be polite and keep your head down. And whatever ya do, don’t argue with Pa. Now—can ya do this? Tell me true.”

“I can do it.”

“And just stay away from Clovis,” Trace insisted, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He felt something like jealousy. Which was ridiculous.

Robby smirked. “I don’t think that’s a problem. So far, he hasn’t said a single word to me and Pa-Pa seems to want it that way. He said something about propriety, but he probably thinks the less I know about my betrothed the better. No offense to your brother.”

Trace liked that Robby could joke a little, even in the midst of all this. He felt the corner of his own mouth tug up. “Good.”

He realized Robby had moved closer still—or he himself had leaned in. It was far too close for two men to stand together, even if they were whispering.

His hand was on Robby’s arm. Out of pure, wicked curiosity, he moved his thumb in a small caress to see what would happen. Robby’s eyes widened in surprise. He licked his lips and leaned forward a tiny bit in silent invitation.

Trace’s heart commenced to pounding. His blood flared so high, he felt like he was about to go into battle. Hell, maybe he was. He raised one hand to Robby’s cheek and brushed the back of his fingers along the strong jawline. “I’ll say this for ya; you’ve got a set of steel balls. How old are you, Robby?”

“Twenty-four.” He touched his own cheek. “And to think I used to hate that I couldn’t grow much of a beard.” He was trying to joke, but his voice was unsteady. He leaned into Trace’s hand a little.

Oh, yes. He was definitely a man of Trace’s predilections. Which was not gonna simplify matters at all.

Trace stared, taking in Robby’s long face and square jaw, those wide, pouty lips, and half-lidded eyes. He truly was the most beautiful man Trace had ever seen. Funny, he could still picture that poster the Bowery Boys had shown him. It helped him imagine Robby without the bonnet and all that nonsense.

“Ya make a pretty gal. But I sure would like to see ya the other way ’round.”

“You would?” Robby’s voice dropped to a breathy whisper. “Think you’d like me better that way?”

“I know I would.” Trace’s voice sounded like he’d swallowed rocks.

Desire sparked hot in Robby’s eyes, and Trace’s body answered. Lust sang loudly in his veins for the first time in a very long time. Not just mechanical need but true desire, an aching want for the man in front of him. At that moment, he’d have scaled a six-foot fence to get to mating, like a heat-crazed horse.

There was a bang outside as a gust of wind sent a loose shutter flying. Trace snapped out of his daze. What the hell was he doing? He pulled back abruptly. What if Pa or one of his brothers saw the light and walked out to the barn? How could he explain being caught sparking with Clovis’s intended—who also happened to be a man? This was dangerous as dancing with a rattler. And twice as stupid.

“Much as I’d like to oblige us both,” Trace growled, “we’d best keep our heads on straight.”

Universal Buy Link
 
Cover Design: Dar Albert @ Wicked Smart Design
 
Length: 65,000 words approx.
 
Blurb
 

Being a fugitive in the old west shouldn’t be this much fun.


The year is 1860. Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run–all the way to Santa Fe. When he still hasn’t ditched his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail order bride he meets on the wagon train. Caught between gangsters that want to kill him, and the crazy, uncouth family of his “intended”, Robby’s only ally is a lazy sheriff who sees exactly who Robby is — and can’t resist him.


Trace Crabtree took the job as sheriff of Flat Bottom because there was never a thing going on. And then Robby Riverton showed up. Disguised as a woman. And betrothed to Trace’s brother. If that wasn’t complication enough, Trace had to find the man as appealing as blueberry pie. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. But a few weeks of having Robby-Rowena at the ranch, and the Crabtree family will never be the same again.


April 26 – Loves Bytes
April 28 – Padme’s Library 
April 30 – My Fiction Nook
May 2 – The Novel Approach
May 4 – MM Good Book Reviews
May 7 – Diverse Reader
May 9 – Two Chicks Obsessed
May 11 – Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
May 14 – Joyfully Jay
May 16 – Bayou Book Junkie
 

About Eli


Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has over 30 books published.


Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.


In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.


In 2018 Eli hopes to do more of the same, assuming they reschedule the apocalypse.


Her website is www.elieaston.com
You can email her at eli@elieaston.com

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Review Tour and Giveaway for Hawk In The Rowan (The Rowan Harbor Cycle #4) by Sam Burns

 

Universal Buy Link
 
Length: 45,000 words approx.



Cover Design: Melanie Harlow @ Clause & Effect

 
The Rowan Harbor Cycle Series
 
Book #1 – Blackbird In The Reeds
Book #2 – Wolf and the Holly
Book #3 – Fox and Birch
 
Blurb
 

Devon Murphy has been back in Rowan Harbor for three months. He’s taken on a host of new responsibilities, and is in a serious relationship for the first time in his life. He loves the town and its inhabitants, but it’s starting to feel like too much for the former drifter.


Now there’s a storm on the horizon, and it doesn’t seem like things are going to slow down and let him catch his breath. A blizzard is brewing, and three people have gone missing in the woods south of town. Devon needs to find them before time runs out.


This book is the fourth of nine in The Rowan Harbor Cycle, not a standalone. Devon and Wade will return in book seven for their HEA.

 

About The Author


Sam wrote her first fantasy epic with her best friend when she was ten. Like almost any epic fiction written by a ten year old, it was awful. She likes to think she’s improved since then, if only because she has better handwriting now.


If she’s not writing, she’s almost certainly either reading or lost down a wikipedia rabbit hole while pretending to research for a novel.


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