Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Blog Tour: Love and Other Conspiracies by Mallory Marlowe

Happy Release Day!

Love and Other Conspiracies is Mallory's debut novel!

Congratulations Mallory!!!

Get your copy today!



About the Book

The hardest thing for a paranormal conspiracy theorist and a web series producer to believe in is finding love in this swoony debut romantic comedy. 

Hallie Barrett’s life has imploded after she’s dumped by her hotshot ex, who also happens to be her coworker and the star of the online series she was producing. Without a new show to present for the company competition, she’ll be out of a job. But inspiration can come from the strangest places . . . like the most handsome guy she’s ever seen passionately discussing Bigfoot on a late-night docuseries. 

Hayden Hargrove made a name for himself as a cryptid expert on his hit podcast, and is intrigued by the plucky, blue-haired producer who offers him the opportunity to lead his own web show. When the production team sees that Hayden’s solo on-screen presence is bad enough to make a ghost blanch, Hallie jumps on camera too, hitting him (and his cryptids) with a healthy dose of skepticism—and enough chemistry to electrify their show to the top of the competition. 

As Hayden and Hallie investigate the unknown, they unearth feelings for each other that shake their beliefs to the core. In their search for Mothman, aliens, and the truth, the most elusive discovery might just be learning to love again.






Excerpt

 

ø Chapter 1 ø

Los Angeles is a city of believers. Whether it be the belief that you'll wait on the right producer's table at the right time and land that big break or that there'll miraculously be no traffic on the 405, everyone has something they believe in with their whole being.

Nearly everyone working at Skroll came here believing in their shot at the fifteen minutes of internet fame the company all but guarantees. For them, it's clearly just another day at the office. Interns chatter over catered lunch, and a member of the video team skateboards through the stark white, open-concept office.And me? I wholeheartedly believe I am about to get fired.

Can we chat?

Few phrases strike fear into my heart the way "Can we chat?" does. It's not good when it comes from a partner or parent, and it's even less fun when it comes from my boss. Chloe is less of a "boss" and more like a cool older friend who sometimes offers me raises and puts my name on org charts as Skroll undergoes yet another restructuring. She joins us producers for drinks and always compliments my blue hair, noticing when I touch it up or experiment with the shade.

But Chloe also has the power to fire me.

Today, it wouldn't shock me if she did. After a month and a half of busywork instead of the producing I was hired to do, I'm expendable.

"Do you think hashtag 'NoraLicks' or 'LicksWithNora' would sell more of these guys?"

I yank myself from my bout of shaking hands and a churning stomach to answer my coworker and recent roommate, Nora. She taps hesitantly at her keyboard, writing and deleting the hashtags several times. I glance at her screen. In the Wild West that is millennial start-up culture, deciding how to sponsor and market fake rubber tongues to lick cats with does demand my serious consideration. Except right now, my brain is a broken record of: "Can we chat?," "Time to pack up your desk now," and "Do you have any retail experience?"

"Oh . . . I didn't think it was that triggering of a question," she says now that she's seen my face. "Hallie, is everything okay?"

Nora's screen shows a thumbnail where she and Amita-one of our other coworkers-are corralled by an army of kittens, with said licking tools bitten between their teeth. I think these cats look more nervous than anything, but at least Nora has something to do. While other staffed producers and contributors spend their nine-to-fives making clickbait videos and writing their fun listicles, I've spent the past month and a half logging video stats and online traffic reports because that's all there is for me to do. It's far below my pay grade and producer job title, but since my plans to produce one of Skroll's most hyped shows were derailed, I feel lucky to be hanging on to their payroll by even a thread.

"Uh, Chloe wants to talk to me."

". . . Oh." Nora nips her bottom lip and traces her fingers around the flowered ink on her wrist, a nervous habit. She embraces the quirky tattoos up and down her arms and is constantly tipping her mousy brown hair with bold and bright colors. I've never seen her in business casual wear-always trendy crop tops and high-waisted shorts, fun rompers, and overdramatic shoes. There's no part of Nora that's afraid to be herself.

Meanwhile, lately, every part of myself feels like clothing that needs a run through the wash with fabric softener.

"Maybe she found another show for you."

"Doubtful."

Nora doesn't refute my doubt because she knows I'm right. Instead, we sit in silence until I bite the bullet.

Yep. Coming!!

The second exclamation point feels excessive, but I'll blame it on my shaking hands.

I stand and look out at the high-tech office in front of me. This office feels like home, and not just because of the horrifying amount of time I spend here.

No, spent.

Eight years ago, Skroll was little more than a pop culture news site full of listicles and personality quizzes. Now it's a multimedia conglomerate that could catapult random millennials to internet superstardom over a single viral video.

I didn't come to Skroll looking for my own fame, but instead to be the one pulling all the strings behind the scenes. I wanted to produce, and Skroll filled my past several years with late-night shoots, the video team scrambling for fresh takeout after-hours, and delirious foosball games while we spitballed ideas. Now I spend my days in the office killing time, all because one person decided I didn't matter enough.

Over the past four years, I worked my way up the video team's ladder from an office PA-making coffee runs and ordering snacks for the office-to associate producer, and then finally a real, shiny producer. When Skroll began to dip its toes into video content and longer-form series, it ran like a small, quirky movie studio. I brainstormed and developed, organized schedules, booked our studios and equipment, and made sure everyone showed up on time. I've helmed so many of those videos that launched talent into the digital spotlight. And I was damn good at it.

I meander through the stark white desks and overpriced ergonomic chairs to Chloe's office beside the Doge conference room. She yells for me to enter after two knocks, and I shimmy my way in. Her workspace always manages to make microwave meals smell like five-star cuisine, seasoned with the light scent of Nag Champa. Her cactus-shaped humidifier puffs and I catch a whiff of calming lavender.

But I do not feel calm.

I am a bundle of shaky hands, impending boob sweat, and a stress-induced eye twitch.

I take a seat on one of her toadstool-shaped chairs, which she insists promote better posture. I slump anyway.

She spins the screen out of the way as I offer her a meek wave. "Hi."

"Hey, Hal. Glad you were available. So, there's something we should talk about . . ."

I can't read her expression. Is she letting me go? Am I getting put on a PIP, where I'll have to log every minute of my day, down to every time I go to the bathroom?

"Sure, what is it?"

"So, your show . . ."

I furrow my brows. "Uh, do I have a show I don't know about? Because . . ."

She chews the corner of her lip. "Yeah . . . that's the part I wanted to discuss."

"Okay," I say.

"We are full steam ahead here on the Skroll Series Program, and Kevin is funneling a good amount of our department funds into show budgets and all of our current series are staffed."

"So, I'm getting let go?"

Chloe sucks in a breath that does not reassure me. "That's what I'm trying to avoid. You're a damn good producer, Hallie, and I don't want to lose you. But if I don't have anything for you to do? It's going to be hard to justify keeping you if layoffs come. I need you to come up with a show for the program."

The Skroll Series Program was like pilot season for web series. Each year, producers and on-camera talent would pitch their shows and record a pilot episode and, if it tested well with corporate, a trial first season. The chosen programs would receive a meager budget and a small gang of producers and assistants in the office, and their stars would be catapulted into the digital spotlight in hopes of gaining the highest content engagement. Skroll fans tuned in religiously and engaged in fandom squabbles-the full Like, Comment, Subscribe-in hopes their favorite show would get a second season, full of higher budgets, higher promotion, and, hell, merchandise if the show did really well.

This year was supposed to be my first competing as a lead producer. I'd laid out schedules, episode ideas, and aesthetics and visuals for the team. Noobie Brothers would feature a group of newbie tabletop players fumbling their way through a game campaign. I'd be pulling every string behind the scenes and would claim that victory for myself, even if I never appeared on camera. It wasn't about the attention for me.

Cade Browning-the onscreen ringleader-went viral one night and has yet to be cured. A single silly video of him getting his chest waxed made him Skroll's resident clickbait snack. It's obvious why. He's a perfect cocktail of an All-American Boy with a nip of edge. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a dizzying smile. He can switch his personalities at the drop of a hat-calculating and deliberate one moment, self-effacing and charming the next.

Everyone fell for it; even me.

I should have seen it coming when Cade swooped in like a hawk just days after my first solo-produced short went viral. Though, when you're twenty-two, fresh out of school, determined to climb the ladder, and the office heartthrob starts paying attention to you, you pay attention back.

When you're twenty-two and said heartthrob tells you how brilliant you are, flirts with you, and suggests hopping in bed together, you do.

When you're twenty-five and no longer the cute fresh meat you used to be, you end up logging traffic reports all day instead of producing a show.

Two months ago, I had a show and a guaranteed role for at least six months. Then Cade dropped the fatal blow. He thought a cozy night in with a bottle of wine and my favorite takeout would soften the hit that he didn't want me on the show anymore, but after I ended our relationship over it, he sure wasted no time slandering me to the crew.

You're hard to work with.

You just don't stand out.

I need people with real substance on this show. People who matter.

Now I'm an adrift producer without a show as my buoy.

My pen drops off my lap and rolls under Chloe's desk. "Me? A . . . show?"

"Yes. This isn't public knowledge yet, so don't say a damn thing. Eric got arrested for public indecency at the Denny's down the road, so we won't be moving forward with his show."

Shame. What the world truly needed was a web series where a fuckboy calculated how many blunts it'd take to blow certain objects up. It was like MythBusters for stoners.

". . . Which leaves an open spot in the Series Program that we haven't filled yet."

I don't even stop to think about if it's mine. It will be mine. There was a spot with my name and creative touch all over it from the get-go. If I create my own show, I'll not only get to reclaim what's mine, but I'll compete side by side against Cade. If I do this, I could beat his ass. I have to beat his ass.

"We're on a time crunch here, Hal. Get me an idea by the end of the week and, if we like it, you'll have to hustle to get a pilot together for the board. If we pick you up for the season, you'll get Eric's production budget and full use of our studios to produce your first season."

That doesn't leave much time to come up with a concept, find the right talent, and convince them to hop on board with my half-baked idea.

Shit. I'm going to have to make a deck.

I can kiss my bed goodbye for the rest of the week. But for the chance to shove my show so far up Cade's ass it'll show up on a strep test? I'll forgo sleep for as long as humanly possible to get back at him and prove to Skroll I am useful for far more than just logging metadata (though I like to think I'm good at that, too).

My heart speeds up, hands beginning to sweat and shake. "You've got yourself a deal. Friday. I'll have a show ready to go for you then."

"That's what I like to hear!"

Show. Beating Cade. Winning. I just have no idea where to begin.

I bumble out of Chloe's office in a haze, my brain operating like a too-fast hamster wheel. I hadn't even thought over accepting Chloe's offer. I just did it. Now I have to follow through.

The Brain-Hamster has been flung off the wheel by the time I return to my desk. I sink behind my monitor.

"You good?" Nora asks. She flashes me a thumbs-up, then a thumbs-down.

I provide her with a so-so. "I'm good, but I need a show idea."

That's when I realize I didn't grab my pen from the floor in Chloe's office. Dammit. I liked that pen.

"A show idea?" she yelps. "Really?"

"Yes. By Friday-"

Nora immediately deflates. "Well . . . shit."

"I'll figure it out," I say, but I am not convinced. I don't know where to start.

"You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"We should get high and watch Agent Cody Banks. Frankie Muniz really brings out my creativity."

ø ø ø


We do get high and watch Agent Cody Banks. A few hours and a half a bottle of five-dollar wine later, when Nora has gone to bed, I am deep in internet hell.

I listened to podcasts, I watched vlogs, I hunted Instagram for charismatic influencers. I only broke for our brief movie. I feel like I've consumed every bit of media under the sun, yet I still haven't made a dent in my ever-growing list of TV show recommendations.

I slurp a chopstick full of noodles into my mouth as the alcohol hits me suddenly. The clock on my computer flashes two a.m. I'll feel this in the morning, though I don't have time for a hangover. I slip my headphones out of my ears and notice the TV in front of me has descended into late-night madness. I'm an hour away from the impending infomercials for discreet adult diapers.

I zero in on the screen as the show returns from a commercial break.

Cosmic Conspiracies.

Yep, I've hit the middle-of-the-night trash TV. Animated planets whirl across the screen and large-headed aliens bobble forward like unsteady bowling pins.

"Sightings of apelike creatures have been reported on nearly every continent on Earth," says an overdramatic narrator. "From the Himalayan Yeti to the Florida Skunk Ape and the most famous of all beasts-Bigfoot-cultures across the world tell stories of something they can't explain lurking in the woods . . ."

Oh, Jesus.

"In ancient drawings, you'll find large, hairy creatures intermingled with humans." The show cuts to a portly British man. "If you look at the footprints, they aren't so different from ours. Could we be closer to Bigfoot than we think? Could Bigfoot even be an extraterrestrial from another planet?"

Excerpted from Love and Other Conspiracies by Mallory Marlowe. Copyright © 2024 by Mallory Marlowe. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.



Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books

Kobo | Google Play | Penguin Random House


About the Author

Photo: © Maria Millage

Mallory Marlowe is an author and video game writer living in Los Angeles, CA. Seriously right-brained since childhood, her love of telling stories began with highly elaborate plots for her Barbie dolls and taking elementary school writing projects too seriously. She studied Writing for Film and TV at Emerson College. When she isn’t writing, she’s likely reading, stuck in L.A. traffic, or fallen down a weird internet rabbit hole. Love and Other Conspiracies is her debut novel. Learn more at www.mallorymarlowe.com


Release Day Blitz: The Substitute by Kristen Proby

 Happy Release Day!

Will they be able to resist each other?

Or does fate have other plans?

The Substitute, a Single in Seattle novella from New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby & 1001 Dark Nights is now live!




From New York Times Bestselling author Kristen Proby comes a new Age Gap, Workplace romance set in her beloved Single in Seattle series!

Derek Langley can’t keep an assistant to save his life. He’s grumpy, demanding, and sometimes mean, which mirrors his reputation in court. Derek doesn’t have time to coddle an employee, so when the temp agency informs him their next placement will be the last, he knows he’s doomed.

Maya Sterling is excited to move to Seattle. She wants to be closer to her siblings and her new friends, and a position with a temp agency fits the bill for her new life in the city. She doesn’t plan on walking in and finding a sexy British grouch for a boss, but his gruff nature doesn’t really bother her. In fact, she’s attracted to his rough-around-the-edges nature.

They quickly realize the attraction is mutual and steam up the office. But Maya’s position with Derek is temporary, and she knows she must maintain a professional distance to preserve her sanity.

Will they be able to resist each other? Or does fate have other plans?


Grab your copy today, exclusively on Amazon!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3P577pn

Amazon Worldwide: https://mybook.to/thesubstitute

Amazon Print: https://amzn.to/3VqNsod


Add The Substitute to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3VqRdKr


Keep reading for a look inside The Substitute!

 

“So, why does Gray think your boss is a jerk?” Liv asks me as we walk into the department store.

“I don’t think he’s a jerk, but I’ve only known him for a week.”

Sidney scowls at me. “Why would Gray think that, then?”

“I guess Derek has a reputation for being hard to work for.” I shrug and hold up a navy-blue dress, but Stella takes it out of my hands and puts it back on the rack.

“That’s for someone in their sixties,” she informs me, shaking her head.

“Thanks. Anyway, I admit Derek can be abrupt and short, but he doesn’t bother me. At least not so far.”

I glance over at Liv, who’s watching me.

“What?”

“I’m telling you, you like him,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“Look—”

“He doesn’t just not bother you. You’re hot for him.”

“Is he attractive?” Sidney asks, reaching for her phone. “Hell, I’ll google him. What’s his name?”

“Derek Langley,” I reply and bite my lip. This is fun. And a little nerve-racking. “He’s British. So, he does have a sexy accent.”

“Oh,” Sid says, turning the phone so the others can see. “Yeah, he’s fucking attractive.”

Hot,” Stella agrees. “Dang, Maya, you should go for it. Wait, is he married?”

“He doesn’t wear a ring.” I consider that, tapping my finger on my chin. “Of course, not everyone does. I don’t think he’s married.”

“I can’t find any evidence of a wife,” Sidney says, tapping on her phone some more. “Unless it’s recent.”

“He’s my boss,” I reply, shaking my head. “Sure, there’s some chemistry there, but I work for him. I don’t think that’s ethical.”

I’ve caught him looking at my lips several times, and when we stand close together, he shoves his hands in his pockets as if he’s restraining himself to keep from touching me.

But maybe that’s all just in my head.

“You said yourself it’s only a thirty-day assignment,” Liv says, waving me off. “I say take those thirty days and have fun with them.”

“We’re going straight to the lingerie department,” Stella decides.

“You guys.” I laugh but don’t stop them from pulling me to the intimates section, where they choose lots of lacy, silky, beautiful things for me to try. “What if I’m being silly, and he wants no part in anything sexy with me?”

“Number one, he’d be stupid,” Sid says. “And number two, if he’s not interested, someone else will be.”

“You have a point. Okay, let’s do this.”











For more information about Kristen Proby, visit:


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**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Release Day Review: Buried Too Deep by Karen Rose

Happy Release Week Karen Rose!

Buried Too Deep is Book 3 in Karen's New Orleans wing of her Romantic Suspense series! 

The city of New Orleans is an exciting, intriguing and beautiful backdrop to this section of the series and the storylines are incredible!

I highly recommend the series and all of Karen's books! 



About the Book

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Karen Rose comes another explosive novel in the New Orleans series, where some secrets are worth dying for—or killing to keep.

Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

Employed as the nighttime security guard of Broussard Investigations, Phineas Bishop has been working through overwhelming PTSD episodes from his army service while still utilizing his military skills. But when a violent break-in occurs at the office, the accusatory eyes of the NOPD are on Phin, and he resolves to track down the intruder and clear his name. 

Phin’s only lead is Cora Winslow, a spirited librarian who also needs answers. The body of her father, murdered twenty-three years ago, has just been discovered under a recently demolished building. So who has been sending her handwritten letters—written and signed by her father—every year since she was five? Someone wants to keep Cora in the dark. And now, they’re coming for her. 

As Cora’s self-appointed bodyguard, Phin is surprised by his growing fondness for the woman and her fierce determination and research prowess. But New Orleans’s Garden District holds secrets as old as the streets themselves. With help from the entire Broussard P.I. team, Phin and Cora enter a labyrinth of fraud and homicide that threatens to bury them all.






Excerpt

 

1

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Tuesday, December 13, 8:01 a.m.Twenty-three years later

Phin Bishop stumbled to a stop, staring up at the building that was as close to a home as he'd known in a long time. It wasn't the building itself, of course, although it was beautiful with its cast iron balconies and its shutters thrown wide in welcome.

Even to me. He hoped.

Because the magic of the building wasn't in its bricks or balconies. It was in the people who worked within its walls. Burke Broussard and his people had become Phin's family.

But I deserted them. I ran.

No. He could hear the voice of his therapist in his mind. You didn't "run." You have PTSD. You left to get better.

But was he better?

Am I ready to be back?

A hand closed over his shoulder, warm and reassuring. "Phin?" Stone O'Bannion murmured. "We can come back tomorrow. Or we can get SodaPop. This is exactly what she's trained for. Helping you through situations just like this."

Swallowing hard, Phin turned to meet his best friend's eyes and saw understanding and compassion that Phin didn't think he deserved. Stone was right. Phin should have brought his new service dog. But he hadn't, wanting to stand on his own two feet.

Which had been wrong thinking. He knew that. Knew that there was no shame in needing a service dog. No shame in having PTSD. He'd accepted that. Accepted that he'd have episodes. That he'd sometimes relapse.

SodaPop made it easier to stave off his episodes. Helped him recover faster when he did relapse.

And you deserve that help. Those words were again in his therapist's voice. Phin could accept that there was no shame in needing his dog. But he hadn't been able to accept that he deserved the assistance. And that was the real reason he'd left SodaPop behind this morning.

"That we could come back tomorrow is what you said yesterday," Phin said. And yesterday, he'd jumped at the chance to turn tail and run.

He'd been running most of his life.

"And I'll say it tomorrow and the next day." Stone gave his shoulder a squeeze. Anchoring him. "What are you afraid of? Be honest with me."

Phin forced the words out. "That they won't want me back."

"If they don't, it'll hurt," Stone acknowledged, and Phin was grateful that Stone hadn't brushed his concerns away. "But I read their texts." Phin had given Stone permission to read all the communication from his New Orleans friends. "These people care about you. They will want you back."

"What if I flake again?" He hated losing control of his own mind, hated the spiral that tugged him under.

Stone shrugged. "Then you leave, you heal, and you try again."

Phin's chest hurt. "I'm so tired of leaving."

"Then stay. Take a step. Right now. There you go. Now another. That's the way."

Phin forced his feet to move closer to the building that housed Broussard Investigations. "I should have stopped for beignets."

Stone chuckled, clearly not fooled by the lame procrastination attempt. "I'll get some for you. Once you're inside and talking to your friends."

The building grew closer and Phin's chest grew tighter. "Why are you still here? Babysitting me?" He was grateful. He was. But he didn't entirely understand why Stone put up with him. "You have better things to do."

"No, I don't. Right now, I'm exactly where I need to be, doing what I need to do. Because you need me. And because I've been where you are. Someone stuck by my side until I could walk alone." Phin knew Stone's story. His friend had been an addict, sober for years now. "So I'm paying it forward, doing it for you. Keep walking, Phin."

They were nearly at the front door. Just another fifteen feet.

Then the door burst open, banging into the wall behind it. Startled at the sound, Phin lurched back, once again grateful for Stone's steadying hand. When he'd righted himself, he got a glimpse of the woman who'd thrown the door open. She wore a gray hooded cloak that hid her face, but a wisp of black hair escaped the hood to whip in the wind. For a moment, Phin stood stock-still, staring as she rushed away, heading toward the center of the Quarter.

The only part of her body that was visible was her legs.

They were very nice legs. Her calves were perfectly defined, thanks to the three-inch heels she wore. How she was able to walk in heels that high-much less run-was a mystery.

She took an abrupt left at the next intersection and disappeared from view.

"Who was that?" Stone asked.

"I don't know." He'd never seen her before. He'd remember legs like that.

Importantly, her appearance had stopped the mental spiral of his anxiety. Sometimes a distraction was exactly what he needed to get his head on straight.

That's what SodaPop's supposed to do, you idiot.

Fine. Next time he'd bring her along.

"Did she come from your office?" Stone pressed. "From Broussard Investigations?"

Phin stilled. She hadn't been a woman with nice legs. She'd been a fleeing woman with nice legs. "Shit."

The sound of two gunshots, one right after the other, shoved his body into motion, and he started to run.

"Joy." She'll be alone. Because she was always the first in the office.

"Joy's the office manager?" Stone asked, running beside him. "The lady who uses a wheelchair?"

"Yes." Phin bypassed the ancient elevator and took the stairs. He'd told Stone about everyone in Burke's office. He cared about them all, but Joy was special. She'd accepted him from the beginning. Taken him under her wing. Mothered him. Trusted him. "Ex-cop. Got shot on the job. Paralyzed from the waist down. Tougher than she looks."

She'd be okay. Joy could take care of herself, he told himself, propelling himself up the last few stairs in a single leap.

They rushed from the stairwell into Burke's lobby. It was an open space with large windows along one wall that faced the street below. Joy's desk would be in the dead center of the room and she'd be sitting behind her computer, doing whatever it was she did every morning. She'd give him a look that was both chiding and welcoming.

Just like all the other times he'd returned from having run.

Except . . . she wasn't behind her desk.

"Oh no." Phin's heart went from a gallop to a dead stop.

Because Joy lay on the floor next to her desk, her wheelchair on its side. Her white blouse was rapidly becoming red with blood and she wasn't moving.

"No," he gasped, racing to her side. "Call 911."

"Already on it," Stone said grimly.

Phin pressed his fingers to Joy's throat, searching for a pulse. She was a petite woman, barely five foot two. But she was strong, emotionally and physically. She could not be dead.

His shoulders sagged when he felt a faint pulse. But his relief was short lived when he saw the blood pooling beneath her head. Wounds to her head and heart.

"Fuck!" Stone snapped, and Phin spared him a glance. His friend had the big window open and was half hanging out of it. "Yes, I'm sure," he was snarling at the 911 operator. "There's a man running from this building. Dressed in black. Ski mask covering his face. He's headed north."

The same direction in which the woman had fled.

Later. Phin ripped off his coat, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and pressed it to her chest since that wound was bleeding more profusely. Her entire blouse was now soaked.

"Joy." He fought for calm. Took deep breaths, just as his therapist had taught him. "It's Phin. Stay with me."

The clatter of running feet had him looking up in time to see two uniformed cops rushing toward him. Guns drawn.

"Back away from her," one commanded.

"You, by the window," the other snarled, "put down the phone and put your hands in the air."

"I'm helping her," Phin insisted, and he could hear his panic. "If I let go, she'll bleed out."

"I'm talking to 911," Stone said, putting up his hands but holding on to his phone.

The second cop snatched the phone from Stone's hand and exchanged a few words with the operator before returning Stone's phone. "Just keep your hands where I can see them."

The first cop stalked toward Phin, gun still drawn. "You are?"

"Phin Bishop."

"What are you doing here?"

"I work here. I came in and found her this way. When will the medics be here?" The blood flow had slowed, but Phin didn't know if it was because of the pressure he applied or if she was bleeding out.

Please don't die.

He couldn't do this again. Couldn't have blood on his hands again. He'd barely survived the last time.

"They're on their way," the first cop said.

But Phin barely heard him, his ear hovering over Joy's mouth, listening for her next breath. Her chest had stopped rising and falling, and a new wave of panic washed over him. "She's not breathing. Stone."

Ignoring the second cop's protest, Stone left his post by the window and joined Phin on the floor next to Joy. "I'm going to do mouth-to-mouth," he said. "You keep applying pressure."

Horrified, Phin kept both hands pressed to Joy's wound while Stone breathed for her.

"Let me go! Goddammit, let me go!" a male voice demanded, heavy with a Cajun drawl that could only belong to one man.

Burke Broussard was here. Phin's boss would know what to do.

Burke shook off the cop's grip, his bike helmet clutched in one hand. "Phin?" The bike helmet dropped to the floor as Burke stared, myriad emotions flickering over his face.

Fear. Surprise. Horror.

And there, for just a moment, accusation.

Burke thought that Phin had done this.

Phin stiffened. He didn't have to wonder about his welcome anymore. He now knew the answer. Burke thought he was capable of hurting Joy. "We found her," Phin said bitterly.

Another man raced into the lobby from one of the back offices, his clothes rumpled. Antoine Holmes, their IT specialist. "Phin? What the fuck?" His gaze pivoted to Stone, breathing into Joy's mouth. "Stone? What're you doing here? What the hell's going on?"

Burke and Antoine rushed over to where Joy lay. Burke dropped to his knees next to Phin. "Tell me what happened."

Antoine knelt on the other side of Stone, looking helpless. But not accusatory.

At least there was that.

Phin lowered his gaze to his bloody hands pressed to Joy's even bloodier chest, to Stone still giving her mouth-to-mouth. "We found her" were the only words he could find to say.

Burke brushed his hand over Joy's close-cropped hair. "Joy, honey, I'm here." He spared Phin a quick glance. "I'm sorry, Phin. I panicked. I know you could never hurt her."

Stone looked up, glaring at Burke. "Asshole," he muttered, then went back to breathing for Joy. "Cameras?" he asked during his next mini break.

Burke looked over at Antoine. "Did you check the feed?"
"Yeah." Antoine scrubbed at his face with his palms. "I was asleep at my desk. Headphones on. Heard the shots but they were muffled. Didn't wake me up right away. I immediately checked the feed. It was a man, dressed in black. Joy shot him, then he and Joy fought over her gun. He shot her, then hit her head with the grip. Pushed her wheelchair over."

"I should have hired . . ." Burke winced, his voice trailing off.

"Night security," Phin muttered, because . . . yeah. "This is my fault."

Burke's voice hardened. "No, it's not." He stared at Stone. "Why are you here?"

"He came with me," Phin said. He knew that Burke knew who Stone was. It was Stone who'd asked Antoine to help Phin get a job in New Orleans. Antoine had asked Burke, who'd welcomed him into the group. "Escorted the prodigal son home," he added, hoping his words hurt Burke to hear as much as they hurt him to say.

He thought I did this.

Burke winced. "Dammit, Phin. At least wait to be angry until after we get Joy taken care of. Was she conscious at all? Did she say anything?"

Burke was right. This was about Joy. Not me.

"No. She was unconscious when we found her. We saw a woman running from the building, heard the shots, then Stone saw a man running away. That's all I know."
Burke clasped Phin's shoulder much as Stone had done. Phin fought the urge to shake him off. "I'm glad you're home," Burke said quietly. "I swear it."

Phin wished he could believe that. "Where are the medics?" he shouted to the cops, who were just standing around, watching.

"On their way up," one of the cops said.

Thirty seconds later, two medics with a stretcher burst out of the elevator. Stone straightened, sitting back on his heels as they put an oxygen mask over Joy's mouth.

"Phin," Stone said quietly, tugging at his arm. "Let them get to her. You need to move."

Woodenly Phin rose and took a step back, his hands warm and wet with Joy's blood. Now that the medics were here, he focused on the blood dripping from his hands.

And remembered the last time.

The office dissolved, Phin's nightmares taking its place. Explosions. People screaming. Bodies falling.

Body parts everywhere. Just . . . everywhere.

And blood dripped from Phin's hands. So much blood.

Dry hands gripped Phin's face harshly. "Phin," Stone hissed. "Stay with us."

Phin blinked. Stone was staring at him, his expression too urgent to ignore.

"There you are," his friend said with relief. "Don't disappear on me." Stone spared an angry glance at Burke. "You're an asshole."

Burke was watching the medics work on Joy, his face pale under his tan. "I know."

Phin shuddered. "His reaction was fair."

"It wasn't," Burke said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What the fuck happened? What did you do, Burke?" Antoine asked, but his voice was growing faint.

The whole room was growing faint as the buzzing in Phin's head grew louder.

Shit. Not now. Not again.

Phin leaned against the wall. His brain was going numb. He could feel it happening. Sliding to the floor, he watched the medics with the out-of-body detachedness that he hated so much.

He was disappearing. Again.

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Tuesday, December 13, 8:25 a.m.

Cora Winslow darted around the pedestrians on Bourbon Street, trying not to look like she was fleeing for her life. Even though she was.

The throwaway phone was cutting into her hand, her grip on it punishing. Call 911 again. Get help.

But panic had overtaken her, her feet still rushing forward. Get to Tandy's.

Excerpted from Buried Too Deep by Karen Rose. Copyright © 2024 by Karen Rose. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.


My Review

The New Orleans series is heating up in Buried Too Deep. The action is exciting and the villains are supernaturally diabolical. The suspense is gripping and the mysteries are mind-blowing! 

Cora and Phin meet under unusual circumstances and have a shared interest in discovering who’s responsible for the attack on the PI office. Is it related to Cora’s father’s death? And who’s sending her letters if her dad was dead the whole time? Each mystery reveals more questions than answers. It’ll take Phin and the rest of Burke Broussard’s PI gang to help Cora detangle this web of intrigue, duplicity, and betrayal. 

Cora is a spitfire who’s also patient, kind, and so strong. She won’t let anything get in her way of discovering the truth. Phin is a pillar of strength for Cora. He desperately wants to prove to Cora–and to Burke–that he can do his job, protecting Cora, despite his PTSD. Cora and Phin have an understated chemistry that’s both tender and endearing. I think they make a great couple and pair beautifully together, Phin with his quiet intensity and Cora with her fierce protectiveness.

I really appreciate the way Ms. Rose approached Phin’s PTSD struggles. We first hear of Phin and his illness in Alone in the Dark, Book 2 of Ms. Rose’s Cincinnati series. Thankfully, Phin had some wonderful friends to help him along the way, and a wonderful support dog in SodaPop. The author handled the subject of PTSD beautifully and respectfully by normalizing this very real and very relevant illness. 

Buried Too Deep is full of brow-raising, puzzle-piecing, unpredictability that’ll have readers thirsty for more.

I absolutely LOVE the story and the characters and I can’t wait for the next book! Karen Rose is a staple in the romantic suspense genre. I highly recommend all her books.

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher via Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.


Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books

Kobo | Google Play | Penguin Random House


About the Author

Photo: © Michael Greene Photography

Karen Rose is the award-winning, #1 international bestselling author of over twenty-five novels, including the bestselling Baltimore and Cincinnati series. She has been translated into twenty-three languages and her books have placed on the New York Times, the Sunday Times (UK), and Germany’s der Spiegel bestseller lists. Learn more at karenrosebooks.com


Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Release Blast: Born of Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Happy Release Day!

The line between love and obsession has never been wider.

Born of Blood and Ash, the highly-anticipated conclusion to the Flesh and Fire Series from #1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout & Blue Box Press is now live!



The line between love and obsession has never been wider.

While Sera is finally free of Kolis and back with those she loves, not everything is calm. Memories of all she’s endured still haunt her, but Sera finally has hope for a future with the other half of her heart and soul. Nyktos desires, loves, and accepts every part of her—even the monstrous bits she still battles.

More than ever, Sera and Ash have everything under the realms to fight for, and Nyktos has no doubt Sera is fit to be the Queen of the Gods. But she must find that faith within herself if they hope to convince the other Courts to support them against Kolis and make Iliseeum and the mortal realm better, safer places for all.

But as Sera begins to piece together the importance of her bloodline and the true meaning behind the foreboding prophecy, it becomes clear that everything that has happened and is yet to come is much bigger than Kolis and his dark obsessions. They cannot help but wonder exactly how much influence the Fates have had and what their ultimate goal is. What Sera does know for sure is that they can trust very few—including her.

A battle between the gods is brewing, and heartbreaking losses are imminent with the true Primal of Death strengthening. With a family of the heart willing to battle by their side, can Sera and Nyktos stop Kolis before he destroys the realms, or will it all disappear in a fiery inferno of blood and ash?

And the line between justice and vengeance has never been so thin.




Start reading today!

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Start the series with A Shadow in the Ember todayhttps://bit.ly/3ZCZyem

Read the Blood and Ash Series todayhttps://bit.ly/45hBYFc


Have you purchased BOBAA? Fill in the form to receive a limited edition temporary tattoo and Born of Blood and Ash bookmark, open internationally→ https://bit.ly/3WB9ANy
*Submissions will be accepted until August 18th.


For more information about Jennifer L. Armentrout, visit:
https://jenniferlarmentrout.com/

 

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**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**

Monday, August 12, 2024

Review: Alone in the Dark by Karen Rose

Alone in the Dark is Book #2 in the Cincinnati wing of Karen Rose's Romantic Suspense series.

This is the book where we first meet Phin Bishop. 

Phin's the MMC in Karen's upcoming release, Buried Too Deep!

This guy definitely deserves an HEA, but first his sister Scarlett gets her chance in Alone in the Dark.



About the Book

New York Times bestselling author Karen Rose returns with a breathtaking novel of suspense in the Cincinnati series—one that crosses the line between danger and desire, and justice and revenge. 

Homicide Detective Scarlett Bishop has seen enough bad guys slip through the cracks and innocent victims go unavenged to know that good doesn’t always prevail. So far she’s been able to lock away her rage and her vigilante fantasies. That lock is about to break. 

Former Army Ranger Marcus O’Bannion is a fierce champion of victims’ rights. His secret past gives him good reason. He believes he’s seen the depths of human depravity, but then his investigation into the murder of a young girl who once asked for his help lures him and Scarlett down a dark, dark road—and straight into the crosshairs of a dangerous, powerful underground ring that deals in human trafficking. To stop them, Scarlett and Marcus have to be just as cunning and just as ruthless. But first they have to make it out alive.






Excerpt

 

Prologue


Cincinnati, Ohio


Tuesday, August 4, 2:45 a.m.

Where is he? He promised he’d be here.

Controlling her panic, Tala looked around, quick, furtive glances. All she saw were the neighborhood residents, going about their business. Of course, at this time of the night, very little of their business was good.

Nobody noticed her. Nobody had followed her. She hoped.

She shrank back into the shadows, deciding to give him another minute. She had to get back before they discovered she’d slipped away. If they hadn’t already.

And if they had . . . her life was over. Maybe literally. And not only her life. She’d risked the lives of every member of her family, too. If she was caught, all of their lives would be forfeit. Yet she’d risked it. Because of the baby.

Everything she did was for that little bundle who smiled and cooed because she wasn’t yet old enough to know how bad the world really was. Tala would sell her soul to keep the baby safe, to keep her from being sucked into this hell—as Tala had been when she was only fourteen years old.

That had been three years ago. Three years that had aged her a lifetime. Three years that had stolen the light from her mother’s eyes and turned her proud father into a shell of a man. Her parents were frozen, powerless, because they feared for their children. Tala understood that. But she also understood that things couldn’t continue as they were. So she’d bided her time, waiting for the perfect moment.

This was about as perfect a moment as she was going to get. Please come. Please.

If he didn’t come, it would all have been for nothing.

A footstep had her spinning around, her eyes frantically searching the darkness as her pounding heart began to race. A man approached, a large man. Tala’s fists tightened and she shifted her weight, preparing to flee in the event it was not the man she expected.

His step was slow. Careful. He lifted his hands, palms up. “It’s me. I won’t hurt you.”

Her heart settled. He had the most beautiful voice. It had been what had drawn her to begin with. She’d heard him singing quietly, sitting by the pond in the park where she was allowed to walk the ridiculous dog whose diamond-studded collar would have fed her family for a year. His voice had been so sweet it had made her want to weep.

And she had. She’d stood that day, listening, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Later, she’d paid for that stolen concert. She’d paid dearly. Still, she’d stopped to listen again when she walked the dog and saw him at the pond. She’d stopped every night for a week. Because that, like this, had been worth the risk. She’d been caught a second time a few nights before. Punished even more viciously.

Still . . . she hadn’t been able to help herself. His song had drawn her, making her reckless. But even as her heart sang mournfully along with him, even when he’d turned to see her standing there, tightly clenching the ridiculous dog’s leash in her fist, even when he’d asked her why she cried . . .

She hadn’t said a word. Not until today.

She hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. Because she was putting her life and the lives of everyone she loved in his hands.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

He came closer, his face still in the shadows. “I’m Marcus,” he said simply. “Tell me why you cry.”

Marcus. She liked his name. Trusted his voice. But now that she was with him, her tongue seemed to be tied in knots. The secret she’d kept for so long . . . It was stuck deep within her. The words would not come. She backed away. “I’m sorry. I . . . can’t.”

“Don’t go. Please.” He took a step closer, keeping his hands in front of him, where she could see them. “What’s your name?”

She swallowed hard. “Tala.”

His lips curved encouragingly. “It’s a pretty name. Why do you cry, Tala?”

“Why do you?” Because he had been. She’d seen his tears when he’d thought no one was watching.

His faint smile faded. “I lost my brother. He was murdered. He was only seventeen.”

She swallowed hard. “My age.”

He nodded. “Will you let me help you, Tala?”

“I . . . I can’t pay you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need your money. I don’t want it.”

Oh, she thought, suddenly realizing what he did want. Dread overwhelmed her, and she took another step back. Then she stopped, lifted her chin. Made her lips curve in what she knew to be a sensuous way. She reached for the waistband of his black jeans, steeling her voice to be as sexy as she could make it. “I understand,” she purred. “I can make you feel good.”

He blinked, looking shocked. Then horrified. “No.” He took a giant step back. “Stop. You don’t understand. That’s not what I want. I don’t want anything from you. I just want to help you.”

Tala’s hands dropped to her sides. “Why? Why would you help me? I’m no one.”

He shook his head again, slowly. Sadly. “Everyone is someone,” he murmured, then exhaled. “Why do you cry, Tala?”

His voice dipped deep, touched her soul. Made her eyes fill with hot tears. “It’s dangerous,” she whispered. “They’re dangerous. My family will die if I’m found here.”

His dark brows knit together. “Who are you afraid of?”

“The man. His wife. They . . .” She averted her eyes, ashamed. “They own us.”

Marcus shifted, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing. “How? Who?”

At the edge of her vision she saw the glint of moonlight on metal—but she was a split second too late. The flash of fire, the boom of thunder, the burning agony in her stomach, the scrape of asphalt on her face . . .

“Tala!” Marcus was shouting, but his voice was far away. So far away. “Don’t die, dammit. Don’t you die.”

She didn’t want to die. She hadn’t yet lived. Her family . . . She needed him to save her family. She opened her mouth to tell him so. “Help Mala . . .” Her mouth moved but no sound came out. There was not enough air to carry her voice. Say it. Tell him. She forced herself to inhale, forced the word out in an agonized huff: “Malaya.”

And then a second burst of thunder tore the air, followed by the shock of a great weight crushing her. Marcus. He’d been shot, too. Suddenly she could no longer draw even the shallowest breath.

I’m going to die. Her family was going to die. And the man called Marcus . . . he’d only wanted to help her. But now he was going to die, too.



Chapter One


Cincinnati, Ohio


Tuesday, August 4, 2:49 a.m.

Detective Scarlett Bishop left her jacket in her car on purpose. Partly because it was too damned hot and sticky to even consider wearing a stitch more clothing than was absolutely necessary. But mostly so that the weapon holstered under her arm—the Glock she normally kept concealed under a jacket—would be readily seen.

She wasn’t in the mood for any shit tonight.

Taking a look around, she frowned at the sight of the nearly deserted street. On any given night, this was where dealers and prostitutes peddled their wares. But nobody was peddling anything tonight, which made Scarlett uneasy. Something had sent them scurrying into their hidey-holes, and whatever that something had been, it wasn’t likely to have been good.

There was no evidence of the man who’d called her here—asking her to come alone. Normally she would have been suspicious enough to bring backup. But the man’s voice . . . She would admit this to no one but herself, but hearing his voice again after so many months had shaken her soundly. The number on her cell phone’s caller ID was unfamiliar, but she’d never forget his voice, no matter how long she lived. When she’d heard it again on the phone tonight, it had stirred her from a sound sleep to full alertness. Nine months had passed without a single spoken word between them. And why would there have been? Her presence would bring him and his family only pain, remind them of their loss.

But tonight he’d said, “Can you meet me? Alone? Please. As soon as humanly possible.”

“Why?” she’d asked.

“It’s . . . important.”

“All right,” she’d said. “Where?” But he’d already hung up. A second later a text had popped up, specifying this street corner.

The last time he’d called her out of the blue, his information had led her to four dead bodies. So, without hesitation, she’d done as he’d asked. But now he wasn’t here.

The only visible signs of life on the street were the two homeless people eyeing her with unabashed interest from their spot on the stoop of the boarded-up building nearest to where she stood. She took two bottles of water from the trunk of her car, conscious of three other people peeking out from the windows of the building across the street. She handed a bottle to each of the two elderly people tucked up against the building for the night, their belongings in a shared shopping cart. Tommy and Edna were regulars on this corner. She’d known them for years.

“It’s hot,” Scarlett said quietly.

“A real scorcher,” Tommy agreed, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin as he struggled with the bottle’s cap, crowing when he twisted it off. “Whatchu doin’ here this time of night, Miss Scarlett?” he asked, exaggerating his deep drawl as he said her name.

“Tommy,” Scarlett chided gently, glancing up and down the street. Still no sign of her caller. “Whatchu doin’ out here in this heat? You know it’s not good for your heart.”

Tommy sighed dramatically. “My heart’s done for already. It got all trampled on by you, Miss Scarlett, when I asked you to marry me for the very last time.”

Scarlett’s lips curved. Tommy was a rascal, but she genuinely liked him. “If I’d said yes, that really would be bad for your heart. You couldn’t handle me.”

Tommy’s laugh was raspy from a lifetime of smoking. “You’re right ’bout that.” He lifted a finger in warning. “And don’t be telling me to go to the Meadow. I been there three times this week. That pretty Dr. Dani says I’m right as rain.”

The seventy-year-old woman next to him snorted. Edna had lived on the streets of Cincinnati for as long as Scarlett had been a cop. “He’s full of shit, that one is, but he’s telling the truth about the Meadow. He did go this week. Once.”

Scarlett lifted her brows. “And did Dr. Dani say he was right as rain?”

Edna shrugged. “Acid rain, maybe.”

The Meadow was the local shelter and that “pretty Dr. Dani” was Danika Novak, ER doc and sister of Scarlett’s partner, Deacon. Dani volunteered most of her free hours to the shelter and had roped most of their circle of friends into helping her, Scarlett included.

Scarlett shook her head but didn’t push. It wouldn’t do any good. She’d found permanent housing for both Edna and Tommy a couple times over the years, but they always came back to the street. Which was bad for their health but, at times, beneficial to Scarlett’s investigations. The two were a reliable source of information about the neighborhood.

She looked around again, but there was still no sign of the man she’d come to meet. “Have you two heard any trouble tonight?”

Edna hid her water bottle in the deep pocket of the smock she never seemed to be without, then pointed to her left. “You wanna look maybe three alleys down that way, honey. Gunshots. Three of ’em.”

Scarlett’s heart stuttered. “Why didn’t you say so before?” she demanded.

“Because you didn’t ask,” Edna said with a shrug.

“Gunshots happen ’round here,” Tommy added. “We got to the point where we don’t pay them no nevermind unless they’re shootin’ at us.”

Scarlett shoved her temper down. “When was this?”

“A few minutes ago,” Tommy said, “but I don’t know ’xactly when. Don’t got no watch,” he added in a yell, because Scarlett had already started to run, her dread building.

Her phone had rung thirteen minutes ago. If he’d been shot, he could be dead by now. He couldn’t be dead. Please don’t let him be dead.

She skidded to a stop when she got to the alley, her vision drawn first to the motionless body on the ground. It isn’t him. The victim was far too small to be him.

She drew her weapon with one hand, holding her Maglite in the other as she cautiously approached. She swept the beam of her light over the victim, a female who appeared to be of Asian descent. Who was she? And where was he? Another sweep of her light up and down the alley revealed no one else.

Scarlett crouched next to the body, her heart sinking. The victim, who appeared to be in her late teens, lay on her back, dark brown eyes staring up at the sky, wide and unseeing. So young, she thought. Setting the Maglite on the asphalt so that it illuminated the victim’s face, she pulled a glove on to her left hand, keeping her weapon firmly gripped in her right.

Pressing her fingers to the victim’s throat, Scarlett found no pulse, which was no surprise. But the young woman hadn’t been dead long. Her skin was still warm.

Her lower torso was bare, her white polo shirt cut away to just below her breasts.

A bullet had entered three inches below her sternum but, based on the amount of blood on and around the body, it had probably not been immediately fatal. Cause of death was far more likely to have been the small hole in the victim’s left temple. The exit wound behind her right ear was the size of Scarlett’s fist.

The girl had been pretty before someone had taken out a chunk of her head.

Not him. It couldn’t have been him. Scarlett couldn’t believe it. You just don’t want to believe it. Which was fair enough, she supposed. Where was he?

Picking up the flashlight, she ran the beam over the body. Blood had been wiped from the exposed skin of the victim’s midriff, the balled-up and blood-soaked remnant of her torn shirt lying on the ground next to her hip. Someone had attempted first aid.

“He tried to save you,” Scarlett murmured aloud.

“Tried. Failed.”

Her head jerked up. He was here. The man who’d dominated her thoughts, her dreams. For months. The man who once again had called her out of the blue to the scene of a homicide.

Marcus O’Bannion.

Excerpted from Alone in the Dark by Karen Rose. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.


My Review

****WARNING: This book contains graphic violence and sexual content that is definitely not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Because of the nature of the physical and sexual violence, the content may be uncomfortable for some readers****

ALONE IN THE DARK is a remarkably complex read. I can easily compare it to a dish of lasagna. There are many layers of mystery, intrigue, danger and suspense beautifully and intricately placed. Every layer just as important and vital to the plot as the next.

Marcus and Scarlett were perfect for each other. Both having secret past hurts that continue to affect their daily lives, making them stronger yet vulnerable at the same time. Kindred spirits finding shelter in each other’s arms and lives. Scarlett is a strong heroine and I admired her drive and her spirit. Marcus has been through unspeakable tragedies, but it’s those tragedies that have forged his strength and unbending will. I fell for him right alongside Scarlett.

I loved the introduction of new characters. Each one complex and mysterious in their own rights. I am hoping for some love connections between a few of them and maybe a kick in the pants for others. What Karen Rose is brilliant at is character development. Her plots are always interesting, but the characters are what make the story, for me.

Speaking of characters, Ms. Rose has given us a most evil villain, or should I say villains. Wow. I was amazed and repulsed at the depths of depravity. Many times, it was hard for me to get through the “bad buy” scenes because of the level of pure evil, bordering on insanity.

ALONE IN THE DARK is chilling, engaging and a completely worthwhile read.

FTC Disclaimer: I voluntarily read a copy of the book generously provided by the publisher via Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. This in no way influences my thoughts or feelings about the book or the content of my review.


Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books

Kobo | Google Play | Penguin Random House


About the Author

Photo: © Michael Greene Photography

Karen Rose is the award-winning, #1 international bestselling author of over twenty-five novels, including the bestselling Baltimore and Cincinnati series. She has been translated into twenty-three languages and her books have placed on the New York Times, the Sunday Times (UK), and Germany’s der Spiegel bestseller lists. Learn more at karenrosebooks.com


Tuesday, August 6, 2024

Review: Sweep of the Heart by Ilona Andrews

I finished reading all the Innkeeper Chronicles stories that are available and I am HUNGRY for more of this world and all these amazing characters.

Sweep of the Heart was published December 2022. No word yet on when the next book in the series comes out, but I hope it'll be soon. I just absolutely love the books. 

The worldbuilding is incredible. 

If you love sci-fi stories with witty dialogue, diverse characters, and engaging storylines, this is the series for you!




About the Book

From the New York Times #1 bestselling author, Ilona Andrews, comes a fun and action-packed new adventure in the Innkeeper Chronicles! We invite you to relax, enjoy yourself, and above all, remember the one rule all visitors must obey: the humans must never know.

Life is busier than ever for Innkeeper, Dina DeMille and Sean Evans. But it’s about to get even more chaotic when Sean’s werewolf mentor is kidnapped. To find him, they must host an intergalactic spouse-search for one of the most powerful rulers in the Galaxy. Dina is never one to back down from a challenge. That is, if she can manage her temperamental Red Cleaver chef; the consequences of her favorite Galactic ex-tyrant’s dark history; the tangled politics of an interstellar nation, and oh, yes, keep the wedding candidates from a dozen alien species from killing each other. Not to mention the Costco lady.

They say love is a battlefield; but Dina and Sean are determined to limit the casualties!





My Review

OMG I am absolutely in LOVE with this series! This magical, intergalactic megaverse is crammed FULL of action, adventure, and a plethora of extraterrestrial mayhem and hijinks!

In this series, Earth is neutral territory and has inns all over the planet which function as way stations where interplanetary travelers stop and rest before continuing onto their next destination. 

The inns are staffed by Innkeepers. Innkeepers have unique magic skills that cater to individual guests while safely sheltering and protecting their person and privacy. And with hundreds of thousands of different worlds/species out there, you better believe the task of an Innkeeper can be daunting, and pretty crazy! There’s also a very special relationship between Innkeeper and Inn that is both complicated and simple, and utterly enchanting.

Holy cow! This book desperately grabbed my attention and held me fiercely captive until the very end! 

Sweep of the Heart dazzles with its vibrant imagery, spellbinding storyline, and otherworldly characters! I can’t wait for the next Innkeeper Chronicles story!

Whenever I pick up an Ilona Andrews read, I feel like Ilona and Gordon’s words are speaking my language. This is the third series of theirs I’ve finished reading and I’m hungry for more! 

I highly recommend EVERY book by Ilona Andrews! 



Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple Books

Kobo | Bookshop



About the Author



“Ilona Andrews” is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.)

Gordon and Ilona currently reside in Texas with their two children and many dogs and cats.

They have co-authored several bestselling series, including the #1 NYT bestselling urban fantasy of Kate Daniels, rustic fantasy of the Edge, paranormal romance of Hidden Legacy, and Innkeeper Chronicles, which they post as a free weekly serial. For complete list of their books, fun extras, and Innkeeper installments, please visit their website at Ilona-andrews.com.


Release Blitz: The Bodyguard and the Bombshell by Lexi Blake

 Happy Release Day!

She’s chaos and he’s just the man to handle her.

The Bodyguard and the Bombshell, a Masters and Mercenaries: New Recruits novella from New York Times bestselling author Lexi Blake & 1001 Dark Nights is now live!




The Bodyguard…

Nate Carter left Australia’s elite SASR unit after a tragic accident. Shattered by the experience, he thought taking a job in the States might be a good way to start over. His father’s former employer, McKay-Taggart, has a position for him in the bodyguard unit. He never imagined himself risking his life for celebrities and the wealthy, but it will do for now. It will also give him a chance to reconnect with old friends, including the girl who’d been like a little sis to him ten years before.

These days, however, his feelings for Daisy O’Donnell are anything but brotherly.

The Bombshell…

Daisy O’Donnell is a girl on a mission, and it does not include falling for one of her brother’s best friends. She has plans, and while chaos always seems to follow her, she’s determined to see this through. Daisy finds herself in need of a bodyguard when a job goes terribly wrong. She’s sure her dad will find someone suitable, but she didn’t expect a big, gloriously masculine Aussie to show up ready to take a bullet for her. Maybe spending some time with Nate Carter won’t be so bad after all.

An explosive match…

Thrown together by danger, Nate and Daisy can’t resist the insane chemistry between them. But when his past and her present collide, they must decide if they can hold it together or go their separate ways forever.


Grab your copy today, exclusively on Amazon!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3t8VK8C

Amazon Worldwide: https://mybook.to/TBATBLB

Amazon Print: https://amzn.to/3x4GEDx


Add The Bodyguard and the Bombshell to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/4c0LO28


Excerpt

 

Keep reading for a look inside The Bodyguard and the Bombshell!

“I was helping out a client,” she began.

“Uhm, Mr. Taggart, I would like to make it clear we didn’t hire Daisy as a private investigator.” Her bosses were here, too. Harlow and Ruby sat at the opposite end of the table, and Harlow seemed to be the one who wanted to set the record straight.

“She was supposed to answer the phones.” Ruby frowned her way.

She was going to have to soothe her bosses. Things had done what they so often did in Daisy’s life. They had gone awry.

To top things off, her brother was somewhere in the building. Aidan had been the one to drive her up, and he’d told her he needed to go talk to his newest roommate.

Nathan Carter. Big, gorgeous Nathan Carter, who’d barely known she’d existed past being his friend’s obnoxious sister.

She hadn’t seen Nate in years. Was he still stunning? He probably had a girlfriend.

“Daisy?” Her mother’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “Uncle Ian asked you a question.”

Of all the grave faces around the table, it was her aunt and uncle who broke the mold and looked highly amused.

“I asked how you went from answering the phones to taking down a drug cartel,” Uncle Ian said, his lips curling up. He leaned in like he was ready for this story.










For more information about Lexi Blake, visit: https://www.lexiblake.net/


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**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**