Excerpt: Arcana Rising

Happy Monday Everyone!

Wait. No. Mondays are never fun, unless of course they're part of a holiday weekend and we don't have to work. Then they're definitely cause for celebration. Alas, today is not such a day, BUT I do have something fun for you guys to make it a little more bearable.

Arcana Rising, the 4th book in Kresley Cole's epic young adult series releases today, and I have the pleasure of bringing you an excerpt to get you guys excited for it. While I'm depressingly behind on this series (as is the case with so many series *shakes fist at work*), the opening chapter of the first book remains one of the most intriguing openings I've ever read, and I remember it clear as day even years later. A unique world definitely worth trying if you haven't had the chance!

For now though, enjoy a little sneak peak at book four, and then run and try book one if you haven't already!

1

Day 382 A.F.

Death kept taking me farther from Jack. I stretched my arms out, fingers splayed toward the heat. "He can't be dead." I sobbed. "Can't. NO, NO, NOOOO!"

    "You want to follow the mortal? Get your revenge first. The Emperor mocks your pain."

    I could hear that fiend in my head--laughing.

    The red witch exploded inside me, a force that could never be contained. I shrieked, "You will PAY!"

    As the Emperor laughed, Death murmured in my ear, "I have your grandmother, Sievā. That was the gift I spoke of. We'll teach you how to kill the Emperor. You'll avenge Deveaux."

    "Don't you understand? Jack's not DEAD!" I screamed that over and over. "He's alive!"

    With my mind teetering on the brink, I spied something in the skies above us. I gaped, disbelieving.

    Real? Unreal? Just before oblivion took me down, a mountain of water curled over our heads, racing toward that hell of flames. 

    Circe's towering wave. Taller than a skyscraper.

    -Quake before me!-

    -Terror from the abyss!-

    Richter and Circe's calls boomed in my mind, jolting me back from the blackness.

    "Come!" Aric snatched me into his arms and sprinted from the clash. "When they meet, the blast and then the flood..."

    I stopped fighting him; the need to turn Richter's laughter into screams clawed at me, which meant I had to survive.

    Aric gave a sharp whistle, and a horse's nickering answered. Thanatos. With me secure in his arms, Aric leapt into the saddle, and spurred the warhorse into a frenzied gallop.

    We all but dove down a slope, then charged up the next. 

    I gazed over Aric's shoulder as that tidal wave crested above Richter's lake of lava.

    Heaving breaths, riding faster than humanly possible, Aric kept Thanatos at a breakneck pace. Up another mountain face. Down its slope--

    Circle struck.

    A hiss like a giant beast's. A detonation like a nuclear bomb.

    The shock wave was so loud my ears bled. As loud as the roar preceding the Flash.

    The air grew hotter and hotter. The ground rocked as a blast of scalding steam chased us.

    BOOM! The force sheared the top off the mountain just behind us. Boulders crashed all around as we careened into yet another valley. Still we rode.

    Aric grated, "Surge comes next."

    The ground quaked from the weight of an ocean of water. I could hear the surge shooting toward us. "Aric!"

    He got as far as he dared, as high as he could. "Hold on." Clutching me tight, he dropped from Thanatos who kept running.

    Behind the cap of another mountain, Aric braced for impact. He wedged his metal gauntlet between boulders, wrapping his other arm around me.

    Gaze locked on mine, he yelled "I'll never let you go!" We each sucked in a breath.

    The searing water hit. The explosive impact ripped me from his chest, but he caught my arm, clenching his fingers above my elbow. 

    Death's grip. The ungodly force of the flood. My watery scream...

    Aric never did let me go--

    My arm...gave way.

    Separated.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

ARCANA RISING

Losses mount and deadly new threats converge in this next action-packed tale of the Arcana Chronicles by #1 New York Times bestseller Kresley Cole.

When the battle is done . . .
The Emperor unleashed hell and annihilated an army, jeopardizing the future of mankind--but Circe struck back. The epic clash between them devastates the Arcana world and nearly kills Evie, separating her from her allies.

And all hope is lost . . .
With Aric missing and no sign that Jack and Selena escaped Richter's reach, Evie turns more and more to the darkness lurking inside her. Two Arcana emerge as game changers: one who could be her salvation, the other her worst nightmare.

Vengeance becomes everything.
To take on Richter, Evie must reunite with Death and mend their broken bond. But as she learns more about her role in the future--and her chilling past--will she become a monster like the Emperor? Or can Evie and her allies rise up from Richter's ashes, stronger than ever before?

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KRESLEY COLE

Kresley Cole is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the electrifying Immortals After Dark paranormal series, the young adult Arcana Chronicles series, the erotic Gamemakers Series, and five award-winning historical romances.

A master's grad and former athlete, she has traveled over much of the world and draws from those experiences to create her memorable characters and settings.

Her books have been translated into twenty foreign languages, garnered three RITA awards, and consistently appear on the bestseller lists, in the U.S. and abroad.

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Nevernight Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

I'm absurdly excited today to be a part of the promotional tour for Nevernight, the newest release from author Jay Kristoff. I've been hearing great things about this one, mainly that it's dark and gritty and a bit unexpected, and I have to admit I am INTRIGUED. For those of you, like me, who are eagerly awaiting release day, I have the pleasure of bringing you a little special something to tide you over for the next few days. Below you'll find an extended excerpt from Nevernight, and be sure to check the bottom of the post as well for all the details on a fun giveaway. Enjoy, everyone!

The sky was crying.

Or so it had seemed to her. The little girl knew the water tumbling from the charcoal- colored smudge above was called rain— she’ d been barely ten years old, but she was old enough to know that. Yet she’ d still fancied tears falling from that gray sugar- floss face. So cold compared to her own. No salt or sting inside them.

But yes, the sky was certainly crying.

What else could it have done at a moment like this?

She’ d stood on the Spine above the forum, gleaming gravebone at her feet, cold wind in her hair. People were gathered in the piazza below, all open mouths and closed fists. They’d seethed against the scaffold in the forum’s heart, and the girl wondered if they pushed it over, would the prisoners standing atop it be allowed to go home again?

O, wouldn’t that be wonderful?

She’d never seen so many people. Men and women of different shapes and sizes, children not much older than she. They wore ugly clothes and their howls had made her frightened, and she’ d reached up and took her mother’s hand, squeezing tight.

Her mother didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes had been fixed on the scaffold, just like the rest. But Mother didn’t spit at the men standing before the nooses, didn’t throw rotten food or hiss “traitor” through clenched teeth. The Dona Corvere had simply stood, black gown sodden with the sky’s tears, like a statue above a tomb not yet filled.

Not yet. But soon.

The girl had wanted to ask why her mother didn’t weep. She didn’t know what “traitor” meant, and wanted to ask that, too. And yet, somehow she knew this was a place where words had no place. And so she’d stood in silence.

Watching instead.

Six men stood on the scaffold below. One in a hangman’s hood, black as truedark. Another in a priest’s gown, white as a dove’s feathers. The four others wore ropes at their wrists and rebellion in their eyes. But as the hooded man had slipped a noose around each neck, the girl saw the defiance draining from their cheeks along with the blood. In years to follow, she’ d be told time and again how brave her father was. But looking down on him then, at the end of the row of four, she knew

he was afraid.

Only a child of ten, and already she knew the color of fear.

The priest had stepped forward, beating his staff on the boards. He had a beard like a hedgerow and shoulders like an ox, looking more like a brigand who’d murdered a holy man and stolen his clothes than a holy man himself. The three suns hanging on a chain about his throat tried to gleam, but the clouds in the crying sky told them no.

His voice was thick as toffee, sweet and dark. But it spoke of crimes against the Itreyan Republic. Of treachery and treason. The holy brigand called upon the Light to bear witness (she wondered if It had a choice), naming each man in time.

“Senator Claudius Valente.”

“Senator Marconius Albari.”

“General Gaius Maxinius Antonius.”

“Justicus Darius Corvere.”

Her father’s name, like the last note in the saddest song she’ d ever heard. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the world shapeless. How small and pale he’d looked down there in that howling sea. How alone. She remembered him as he’d been, not so long ago; tall and proud and O, so very strong. His gravebone armor white as wintersdeep, his cloak spilling like crimson rivers over his shoulders. His eyes, blue and bright, creased at the corners when he smiled.

Armor and cloak were gone now, replaced by rags of dirty hessian and bruises like fat, purpling berries all over his face. His right eye was swollen shut, his other fixed at his feet. She’d wanted him to look at her so badly. She wanted him to come home.

“Traitor!” the mob called. “Make him dance!”

The girl didn’t know what they’d meant. She could hear no music.

The holy brigand had looked to the battlements, to the marrowborn and politicos gathered above. The entire Senate seemed to have turned out for the show, near a hundred men gathered in their purple-trimmed robes, staring down at the scaffold with pitiless eyes.

To the Senate’s right stood a cluster of men in white armor. Blood- red cloaks. Swords wreathed in rippling flame unsheathed in their hands. Luminatii, they were called, the girl knew that well. They’d been her father’s brothers-in-arms before the traitoring— such was, she’d presumed, what traitors did.

It’d all been so noisy.

In the midst of the senators stood a beautiful dark- haired man, with eyes of piercing black. He wore fine robes dyed with deepest purple—consul’s garb. And the girl who knew O, so little knew at least here was a man of station. Far above priests or soldiers or the mob bellowing for dancing when there was no tune. If he were to speak it, the crowd would let her father go. If he were to speak it, the Spine would shatter and the Ribs shiver into dust, and Aa, the God of Light himself, would close his three eyes and bring blessed dark to this awful parade.

The consul had stepped forward. The mob below fell silent. And as the beautiful man spoke, the girl squeezed her mother’s hand with the kind of hope only children know.

“Here in the city of Godsgrave, in the Light of Aa the Everseeing and by unanimous word of the Itreyan Senate, I, Consul Julius Scaeva, proclaim these accused guilty of insurrection against our glorious Republic. There can be but one sentence for those who betray the citizenry of Itreya. One sentence for those who would once more shackle this great nation beneath the yoke of kings.”

Her breath had stilled.

Heart fluttered.

“. . . Death.”

A roar. Washing over the girl like the rain. And she’d looked wide- eyed from the beautiful consul to the holy brigand to her mother— dearest Mother, make them stop— but Mother’s eyes were affixed on the man below. Only the tremor in her bottom lip betraying her agony. And the little girl could stand no more, and the scream roared up inside her and spilled over her lips

nonono

and the shadows all across the forum shivered at her fury. The black at every man’s feet, every maid and every child, the darkness cast by the light of the hidden suns, pale and thin though it was—make no mistake, O, gentlefriend.

Those shadows trembled.

But not one person noticed. Not one person cared.

The Dona Corvere’s eyes didn’t leave her husband as she took hold of the little girl, hugged her close. One arm across her breast. One hand at her neck. So tight the girl couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn. Couldn’t breathe.

You picture her now; a mother with her daughter’s face pressed to her skirts. The she- wolf with hackles raised, shielding her cub from the murder unfolding below. You’d be forgiven for imagining it so. Forgiven and mistaken. Because the dona held her daughter pinned looking outward. Outward so she could taste it all. Every morsel of this bitter meal. Every crumb.

The girl had watched as the hangman tested each noose, one by one by one. He’d limped to a lever at the scaffold’s edge and lifted his hood to spit. Th e girl glimpsed his face— yellow teeth gray stubble harelip gone. Something inside her screamed Don’t look, don’t look, and she’ d closed her eyes. And her mother’s grip had tightened, her whisper sharp as razors.

“Never flinch,” she breathed. “Never fear.”

The girl felt the words in her chest. In the deepest, darkest place, where the hope children breathe and adults mourn withered and fell away, floating like ashes on the wind.

And she’ d opened her eyes.

He’d looked up then. Her father. Just a glance through the rain. She’d often wonder what he was thinking at that moment, in nevernights to come. But there were no words to cross that hissing veil. Only tears. Only the crying sky. And the hangman pulled his lever, and the floor fell away. And to her horror, she finally understood. Finally heard it.

Music.

The dirge of the jeering crowd. The whip- crack of taut rope. The guh-guh-guh of throttled men cut through with the applause of the holy brigand and the beautiful consul and the world gone wrong and rotten. And to the swell of that horrid tune, legs kicking, face purpling, her father had begun dancing.

Daddy . . .

“Never flinch.” A cold whisper in her ear. “Never fear. And never, ever forget.”

The girl nodded slow.

Exhaled the hope inside.

And she’ d watched her father die.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 

NEVERNIGHT

The first in a new fantasy series from the New York Times bestselling author.

In a land where three suns almost never set, a fledgling killer joins a school of assassins, seeking vengeance against the powers who destroyed her family.

Daughter of an executed traitor, Mia Corvere is barely able to escape her father’s failed rebellion with her life. Alone and friendless, she hides in a city built from the bones of a dead god, hunted by the Senate and her father’s former comrades. But her gift for speaking with the shadows leads her to the door of a retired killer, and a future she never imagined.

Now, Mia is apprenticed to the deadliest flock of assassins in the entire Republic—the Red Church. If she bests her fellow students in contests of steel, poison and the subtle arts, she’ll be inducted among the Blades of the Lady of Blessed Murder, and one step closer to the vengeance she desires. But a killer is loose within the Church’s halls, the bloody secrets of Mia’s past return to haunt her, and a plot to bring down the entire congregation is unfolding in the shadows she so loves.

Will she even survive to initiation, let alone have her revenge?

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JAY KRISTOFF

Jay Kristoff is a New York Times and international bestselling author of science fiction and fantasy. He grew up in the second most isolated capital city on earth and fled at his earliest convenience, although he’s been known to trek back for weddings of the particularly nice and funerals of the particularly wealthy. He spent most of his formative years locked in his bedroom with piles of books, or gathered around dimly-lit tables rolling polyhedral dice. Being the holder of an Arts degree, he has no education to speak of.

His LOTUS WAR trilogy was critically acclaimed in Kirkus and Publishers Weekly, nominated for the David Gemmell Morningstar and Legend awards and won the 2014 Aurealis Award. Jay’s new series, the SciFi thriller THE ILLUMINAE FILES, was co-authored with Amie Kaufman. Book 1, ILLUMINAE, became a New York Times and international bestseller, was named among the Kirkus, Amazon and YALSA Best Books of 2015 and won the 2016 Aurealis Award and an ABIA Book of the Year award. ILLUMINAE is currently slated to be published in twenty five countries, and film rights have been acquired by Brad Pitt and Plan B Entertainment.

Jay’s new fantasy series, THE NEVERNIGHT CHRONICLE, commences with book 1, NEVERNIGHT, from St Martins Press/Thomas Dunne Books and Harper Voyager in 2016. A new YA series, LIFEL1K3 has also been acquired by Knopf/Random House Kids, and commences publication in 2018. Jay is as surprised about all this as you are. He is represented by Josh Adams at Adams Literary.

Jay is 6’7 and has approximately 13,030 days to live. He abides in Melbourne with his secret agent kung-fu assassin wife, and the world’s laziest Jack Russell.

He does not believe in happy endings.

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GIVEAWAY

Five lucky winners will each receive a finished copy of Nevernight! To enter, please fill out the Rafflecopter form below. Giveaway is open to US addresses only.

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WEEK ONE
8/1/2016- Dark Faerie Tales- Interview 
8/2/2016- Once Upon a Twilight- Review 
8/4/2016- Supernatural Snark- Excerpt
8/4/2016- Nerdophiles- Review 
8/5/2016- The Book Cellar- Interview

WEEK TWO

8/8/2016- MEREADALOT- Review

8/9/2016- Ticket to Anywhere- Interview

8/10/2016- The Young Folks- Review

8/11/2016- Two Chicks on Books- Interview

8/12/2016- Mundie Moms- Review 

Spotlight + Excerpt: Darkest Before Dawn

Today I have the pleasure of sharing an excerpt from Darkest Before Dawn, the latest installment in Maya Banks' KGI series. Most of you already know that I am a special kind of sucker for a military/Special Forces/elite badass hero, so the men of The Kelly Group International are right up my alley. *fans self* Despite the fact that this is book ten, it can be read entirely on its own, so those of you who haven't read the previous nine books can kick this series off with all things Hancock ;-) Enjoy the excerpt!

Anticipation licked through Hancock’s veins and his pulse sped up, the taste of victory in his mouth. If all it took was capturing a single woman who was running and hiding from a terrorist group to enable him to achieve his objective, then he’d do it without hesitation. He’d have to ensure that Maksimov took the bait because it did him no good for Bristow to turn to the terrorist cell to get what he wanted. It had to be Maksimov.
 
He glanced up at his men and saw answering resolve in their eyes. They wanted to take down Maksimov every bit as much as he did. And like him, they grew weary of their existence or rather nonexistence. To the world, they were dead. To their government they were traitors and had been given a death sentence. To their prey, they were angels of death, without mercy or compassion. They were feared by all and they mattered to no one. To even the strongest, unfeeling soul, such a life eventually wore on them. They were all ready to step down from their cause and allow others to do the work they’d done without thanks or regard for over a decade. And make whatever kind of life was left to them, knowing that even after they stood down, they’d always be hunted.

“Give me what intel you have,” Hancock said to Bristow, determination and resolve Bristow couldn’t possibly miss in his tone. And Bristow had seen him in action long enough to know he didn’t offer his assurances lightly. “I’ll find the woman and bring her to you.”

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN

The Kelly Group International (KGI): A super-elite, top secret, family-run business.
 
Qualifications: High intelligence, rock-hard body, military background.
 
Mission: Hostage/kidnap victim recovery. Intelligence gathering. Handling jobs the U.S. government can’t...

The enigmatic Hancock has been both opponent and ally to the KGI teams for as long as they've known him. Always working a deep game, Hancock's true allegiance has never been apparent, but one thing is for certain—he never lets anything get in the way of duty.

But now, his absolute belief in the primacy of his ultimate goal is challenged by a captive he's been ordered to guard, no matter how much she suffers in her prison. She's the only woman who's ever managed to penetrate the rigid walls surrounding his icy heart, but will he allow his perplexing feelings for the beautiful victim to destroy a mission he's spent years working to complete or will he be forced to sacrifice her for “the greater good.”

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Treasured By Thursday: Excerpt + Giveaway!

Happy Monday Everyone! Wait. No. That doesn't really work does it? Mondays are never any fun, but today I hopefully get to make your Monday a little better by sharing a swoon-worthy excerpt from Treasured by Thursday, the latest contemporary romance from Catherine Bybee. You're welcome ;-) Be sure and check the bottom of the post too for a chance to win all sorts goodies!

And now, the promised swoon:

“I think we should talk about what’s going on here.”

She swallowed. “We’re cooking.”

“Gabi, look at me.”

She shook her head, taking the coward’s way out. If she noticed the lock of hair falling into his eyes a second time, she might have to push it back in place.

“Gabriella?” The smooth texture of his voice was like chocolate on her tongue.

His sticky hand tucked under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

He stepped closer, his frame molding to hers and pressing her back against the counter.

She couldn’t breathe.

His thumb traced her bottom lip. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled her thoughts.

She nodded. “Very poor choice.” Her hands gripped the side of the counter to keep from touching him.

Hunter sucked in a deep breath. “You smell like flowers.”

“I’ll change my shampoo.”

He started to dip his head and she kept talking. “Something musky, so you won’t notice me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work.”

He was close enough to catch the scent of mint on his breath. “I don’t even like you.” One of her legs lifted and rubbed against one of his.

“I don’t trust you.” His hand moved from her lip the side of her neck.

“You blackmailed me.”

“You tricked me into cooking with your mother.”

She smiled. “The two hardly compare.”

Instead of dropping his lips to hers, he detoured to the side of her neck and kept talking, his breath brushing her skin. “Have you met your mother?”

“That’s sill—”

His lips found her neck.

She moaned and closed her eyes. Such a deliciously bad idea.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

TREASURED BY THURSDAY

The seventh and final tale in the dazzling, heartwarming, and pulse-racing Weekday Brides series.

Gabriella Masini: She’s a woman haunted by her past, with the scars to prove it. She believes that fairy tales are for other people. An elite matchmaker at Alliance, she’s great at crunching numbers, but something doesn’t add up with her latest prospective client: a billionaire bad boy with his own secrets. When Gabi refuses to be his temporary wife, Hunter forces her hand with an offer she can’t refuse. But marriage to a man like that could never last…or could it?

Hunter Blackwell: Only his bank account is bigger than his ruthless ability to obtain anything he wants. These days, he has a secret reason to settle down, at least for a while—and he thinks the sensual and sassy Gabi will fit the bill perfectly. But when their marriage of convenience becomes downright dangerous, Hunter must decide how far to take his vow to honor and protect Gabi forever.

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CATHERINE BYBEE

New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Weekday Brides Series and the Not Quite Series. Bybee lives with her two teenage sons in Southern California.

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GIVEAWAY

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Excerpt + Giveaway: It Started with a Scandal

I'm an enormous fan of the historical romance genre (even though I would 100% fail at all the pomp and circumstance, not to mention the rigid social etiquette, that dominates majority of the time periods), so I'm super excited today to share with you an excerpt from It Started with a Scandal, the newest release from Julie Anne Long. Be sure and follow this tour in its entirety (full list of participating blogs below) as there will be two additional excerpts as well as more chances to win!

IT STARTED WITH A SCANDAL CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE

“In light of your ...circumstances...Mrs. Fountain, I'm certain you're aware that it is a bit unusual for you to be granted an interview at all. But this is an exceptional...situation...and the Redmond family did put in a good word.”

So many words requiring delicate choosing and pillowing with little silences. Circumstances. Situation.

Elise gritted her teeth clamped together, withstanding all of them the way she had for years.

“I understand,” she said somberly.

“—that is not to say that you could not satisfactorily perform the duties, and I should hope you would not be influenced by Mrs. Gordon, whose temperament proved unequal to the job—”

Mrs. Gordon must be the sobbing woman Elise had passed departing the house as Elise came up the walk. She'd been carrying a valise and muttering “heartless bastard” viciously under her breath.

 “...because the successful candidate will possess a clear head and a mature outlook...”  Mrs. Winthrop continued. She paused briefly in her torrent of words to narrow her eyes at Elise.

Elise had donned her most severe gown and ruthlessly pinned her hair motionless with approximately three hundred pins. She nodded, serenely confident she looked mature and that nothing as frivolous as a curl would escape.

And she kept her fingers laced tightly in her lap, as if this alone could keep her nerves from shattering. It had at least disguised the trembling.    

Would that she'd managed to keep her stays laced just that tightly six years ago.     

Alas, spilt milk, and all of that.    

“...and as you know, I'm employed by the Earl of Ardmay, and they have volunteered me to undertake the selection process as a special favor to their family...”    

Mrs. Winthrop had not ceased speaking since Elise arrived fifteen minutes ago.   

“...and as for the current staff, there will be no steward or butler, as this is a relatively small household and the tenant is temporary. So you would head the small entire staff, which is comprised of—”    

Something unmistakably large and glass, hurled from a considerable distance with considerable force, exploded into thousands of jingling fragments.     

Both women froze.    

It was exactly what Elise expected her nerves would sound like when they finally shattered.      

In the stunned silence that followed the rain hurled itself at the window like a warning. Get out! Get out while you can!    

Ah, if only she'd a choice.     

Mrs. Winthrop cleared her throat at last. “He likely won't ever aim at you. All the same, there's naught wrong with his arm and it's best to be well clear of him if you think he might be in a throwing mood.”         

Elise hoped this was black humor. How on earth to respond? She glanced down at her bloodless knuckles as if they were crystal balls. No help there.    

She decided to nod sagely.     

“I understand they're blessedly rare. The throwing moods,” Mrs. Winthrop expounded.            

“And we must always count our blessings.”    

It emerged more quickly and dryly than Elise intended.      

In other words: More herself than she had intended.    

This she knew because Mrs. Winthrop's eyebrows launched like birds flushed from shrubbery.         

She eyed Elise sharply for a moment.    

Elise held her breath.    

Then Mrs. Winthrop smiled a vanishingly swift smile.  It was like a cinder thrown off a distant campfire, when Elise had been lost in the dark woods for weeks.    

“All right then, Mrs. Fountain, I should be pleased to introduce you to his Lordship, Lord Lavay, who is a Prince of the House of Bourbon. If he's...amenable.”

*****

The loquacious Mrs. Winthrop went curiously silent as she led Elise through a labyrinth of Alder House's too-dark hallways. The candles hadn't been trimmed; a few were fitfully, smokily, burning in their sconces. She frowned. The house was handsome enough, but tn the rooms they swiftly passed the fires burned low or not at all. She surreptitiously dragged a fingertip along top of the wainscoting; she could feel dust cake it.     

She saw no evidence of the rumored household staff.     

They scaled a flight of marble stairs with a smooth, modest banister, and Mrs. Winthrop finally halted paused on the threshold of what appeared to be a study.     

It was as dark and soft as a cave, but a huge leaping fire picked out glints from around the room, and Elise's eyes tracked them reflexively:  the polished legs on  a plumply upholstered settee and a pair of gorgeous chairs, the inlay on a small round table, the gilt on a framed map and the stand of a handsome globe, an empty crystal decanter, a tiny bottle of Sydenham's Laudanum on a sideboard, only half full.    

She stopped when she reached the mirror-like toes of a pair of Hessians by the hearth.    

And followed them all the way up.    

Inside them stood a man.    

A very tall man.     

He in fact all but loomed; the firelight threw his shadow nearly to where she stood at the door.      

Elise took an unconscious step back from it, as though it were a spill of lava.    

His face was aimed rather pointedly at the window, as if he was expecting someone.    

She followed his gaze curiously.     

She just saw the same ceaseless slanting rain, like bars on a cell.      

A spray of sparkling shards surrounded his feet.  The remains of a vase, from the looks of things.   

“Lord Lavay...”     

Elise shot Mrs. Winthrop a worried look. The seemingly indefatigable Mrs. Winthrop's voice had gone faint. As if she suddenly didn't have enough air to form words.     

The man turned. Slowly, as if he was the earth itself on its axis. Or as if an invisible sculptor was rotating him to present a finished work.     

Voila! Elise thought to herself. An attempt at bravado.   

It was too late. She'd already sucked in her breath and tightened all of her muscles, like a creature who had stumbled across a predator in a clearing and wished to make herself unnoticeable.    

He was so clearly of that singular species, The Aristocracy, that she might as well have bought a ticket to see him, the way she had once when her father had brought her, as a little girl, to see the Royal Menagerie in London.      

He wasn't young. There was no softness to his face—not in the set of his mouth, or the burn of his gaze, or the severe right angles of his jaw. His beauty was austere and inarguable and there was a palpable force to him, as if he had sprung from the earth due to violent underground activity, a bit like a mountain range. She thought about the things she'd been told about him.    

Privateer. Soldier. Prince.     

Power,  violence, privilege.    

He looked like all of the things he was purported to be.      

Do we carry around our pasts so visibly? She wondered. Because if she so, she was certainly in trouble.    

There was no denying that he frightened her.     

And after a moment, this made her angry. She'd been so certain she was impossible to frighten after the events of the last five years. She could not afford to be frightened. She thought she deserved never to be frightened again.    

She squared her shoulders.    

Life is full of tests, children, she'd once primly told her students.     

That was before she'd been tested.
   

The woman Mrs. Winthrop brought into Phillipe's study was petite and colorless. Her face and the folded knot of her hands were twins, both white and tense. Her dress was demure, long-sleeved, high-collared, fashioned of serviceable gray wool. Her hair was dark. She could be any age.     

Her eyes dropped instantly upon meeting his. It was deference or fear, or perhaps fascination. He was accustomed to all of them. None of it interested him.    

She was, unsurprisingly, unremarkable in every way.     

Apart, that was, from her posture, which was almost aggressively rigid. It reminded him of a drawn saber.    

This made him smile faintly.     

He sensed it wasn't a pleasant smile when both women gave a little start.    

“I'd like to introduce Mrs. Elise Fountain, my lord.”     

Miss Fountain dropped an elegant enough curtsy.     

“You may leave us,” he said to Mrs. Winthrop, without looking at her.     

Mrs. Winthrop bolted like a rabbit released from a trap.    

Mrs. Fountain's gaze rose again, rather like a man struggling up the side of a cliff, wavered, and held.

END IT STARTED WITH A SCANDAL CHAPTER ONE PART ONE! To read the rest of Chapter One, check out these blogs:

3/26—

Urban Girl Reader EXCERPT PART 2

Eater of Books EXCERPT PART 2

3/27—

Buried Under Romance EXCERPT PART 2

3/28—

Toot’s Book Reviews EXCERPT PART 2

Doing Some Reading EXCERPT PART 2

Ramblings from this Chick EXCERPT PART 2

3/29—

The Lusty Literate EXCERPT PART 3

Romancing the Readers EXCERPT PART 3

3/30—

Snarky Mama EXCERPT PART 3

Curling up with a Good Book EXCERPT PART 3

4/1—

The Jeep Diva EXCERPT PART 3

4/2—

After Hours at Lily Bloom Books EXCERPT PART 3

To Read or Not to Read EXCERPT PART 3

4/3—

I Heart Romance EXCERPT PART 3

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IT STARTED WITH A SCANDAL

Lord Philippe Lavay once took to the high seas armed with charm as lethal as his sword and a stone-cold conviction: he’ll restore his family’s fortune and honor, no matter the cost. Victory is at last within reach—when a brutal attack snatches it from his grasp and lands him in Pennyroyal Green.

An afternoon of bliss brings a cascade of consequences for Elise Fountain. Shunned by her family and ousted from a job she loves, survival means a plummet down the social ladder to a position no woman has yet been able to keep: housekeeper to a frighteningly formidable prince.

The bold and gentle Elise sees past his battered body into Philippe’s barricaded heart . . . and her innate sensuality ignites his blood. Now a man who thought he could never love and a woman who thought she would never again trust must fight an incendiary passion that could be the ruin of them both.

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JULIE ANNE LONG

USA Today bestselling author JULIE ANNE LONG originally set out to be a rock star when she grew up (and she has the guitars and fringed clothing stuffed in the back of her closet to prove it), but writing was always her first love. Since hanging up her guitar for the computer keyboard, her books frequently top reader and critic polls and have been nominated for numerous awards, including the Rita, Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice, and The Quills, and reviewers have been known to use words like “dazzling,” “brilliant,” and “impossible to put down” when describing them. Julie lives in Northern California.

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The Knife's Edge: Excerpt + Giveaway!

Today I have the pleasure of being a part of the promotional tour for The Knife's Edge, the first book in the Ronin Saga by Matthew Wolf. Fantasy is a genre I used to stay well away from for reasons I can't fully explain, but over the past year and a half or so it's quickly become one of my very favorites and I now add as many fantasy novels to my reading list as possible. The Knife's Edge has everything there is to love about the fantasy genre, including dragons. DRAGONS. Yes. I hope you all enjoy the excerpt, and don't forget to check the bottom of the post for all the details on a Ronin Saga giveaway!

Vera inhaled the incense that burned in the brightly lit room.  On any other day she would complain about its putrid sting as she walked past the Oval Hall, watching as people flocked towards the great chamber.

Today, however, the incense smelled sweet.

Her face glistened with sweat.  Seven women surrounded her.  Each stood on one of the seven points of the Star of Magha, set in the white marble floor with gold veins.  Each point stood for one of the elements of the Great Kingdoms.  She stood on the red flame of the Citadel.

All the elements were present, but one, the forbidden element of wind.

The women surrounding her breathed heavily, wearing looks of loathing.  They fear what they don’t understand.  She took in their stares and noted their different strengths.  Merian stood on the emblem of flesh, Sara, water, Tamiko, earth, Resa, sun, Eliwyn, fire, and the others she did not know. The only thing they shared was that they were years older than her, and nearly all of them despised her.

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THE KNIFE'S EDGE

Book One of The Ronin Saga

When legends come to life the world trembles from a single name. Ronin. Once-heroes from a different age, they wield elemental powers… wind, water, fire, stone, forest, sun, moon, flesh, and metal.

At the same time, a young man discovers his best friend with a sword in her stomach, and dark wings sprouting from her back. Guards rush onto the scene, accuse him of the act, and he is forced to flee. In a new world without his memories, Gray must find his way amid legends and darkness, as he wrestles with an elemental power inside himself.

A power all too similar to the infamous Ronin…

Amazon • Goodreads • The Ronin Saga

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CITADEL OF FIRE
Book Two of The Ronin Saga

Seventeen-year old Gray is descended from a legendary hero known as a Ronin, and haunted by his forgotten past. He returns home to a wizards’ keep, unaware he is now labeled a murderous traitor for killing his best friend.

Returning could be a death sentence, but the journey alone is perilous. Along the way, Gray discovers he has a grandfather. Now he must reach the city before his only living family dies beneath a madman’s torture. Getting there will be a challenge, however, as an enthrallingly unpredictable woman, a dangerous desert, and a horde of thieves stand in his way. Wielding the banished power of wind, Gray rallies against the poisonous evil that seeks to convert the world to their mantra, “strength is life, weakness death.”

Yet with an affable scoundrel and a clever bookworm at his side, Gray discovers the world’s greatest secret… He is not the only one with hero’s blood, and the legend of the Ronin walk the world once again.

Amazon • Goodreads • The Ronin Saga

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MATTHEW WOLF

Matthew Wolf is the author of THE RONIN SAGA, a nine part YA Epic Fantasy series.  He also loves cake.  Book two is out now, for sneak peek information on Matt and all things Ronin check out: roninsaga.com. He loves connecting with fans, those whirling blades really speak to his soul.  You can reach Matt at TheRoninSaga@Gmail.com, howl "Ronin" at the moon, or throw up a Wolf Signal in the sky. All valid forms of communication.

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GIVEAWAY

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Wild Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway

Today I'm excited to be a stop on the promotional tour for Wild, the last book in Sophie Jordan's Ivy Chronicles series. I had such fun with the first two books, and I simply can't wait to see what trouble Logan is going is going to stir up with Georgia in this final installment. For those of you who have yet to read The Ivy Chronicles, I hope you enjoy a little taste of Wild!

“I gotta go,” I said hurriedly, turning to walk around the Jeep, ready to climb in the backseat, not even caring how obvious I was in trying to put distance between us by unnecessarily circling around the vehicle.
 
I felt him move behind me before I felt his hands on my arms. “No, you don’t,” he growled. “You don’t get to run away again.”
 
I squeaked as he hauled me back against his chest. My spine stiffened iron-rod straight against the wall of his broad chest. I felt my eyes go huge in my face. He was touching me. Again. And I was freaking out on the inside. I sucked in a deep breath, determined that my freak-out stayed internal only.
 
“Let me go. They’re coming.” My heart hammered violently in my chest and I didn’t know if it was because we were about to get busted by my friends or because his body felt so unbelievable against mine. Okay, fine. It was both.
 
His mouth brushed my ear as he spoke, spiking sensation to every nerve in my body. “Are you embarrassed, Georgia? You don’t want them to see me with you? Don’t want Pepper and Reece to know about us?”
 
“There is no ‘us.’ ”
 
“Oh, but there will be. We both know why you came tonight.” His fingers flexed, each digit a burning imprint on my forearms.
 
“Yeah?” Was that breathy croak my voice? “Why?”
 
“Because you haven’t been able to forget what it felt like to kiss me, and you want to know if the rest of it will be that good, too.” He bit down on my earlobe and a whimper escaped my lips. “It will be.”
 
An invisible band squeezed around my chest. I swallowed against my constricting throat. “Arrogant much?”
 
“It’s okay. I haven’t been able to forget either. I can still remember the way you taste.”
 
Oh. My. God.
 
I swallowed a moan and lurched free from him. Swinging around, I faced him and felt my knees go weak at the look in his eyes. Heavy-lidded and deep, his blue eyes looked almost indigo as they stared down at me.
 
“I know you probably think it’d be some great joke to bang one of your brother’s friends, but I’m not going to be another notch on your bedpost . . . some girl you screw once and forget about the next—”
 
He moved fast then, closing the space that I had established between us. Oh, yeah. He was a jock with ninja-fast reflexes. I needed to remember that.
 

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WILD

A good girl goes fabulously bad in the final book in New York Times bestselling author Sophie Jordan’s sexy New Adult romance series, in which three Ivy League suite-mates seek higher knowledge of just how far they can go.

Months after her boyfriend dumped her, Georgia can still hear the insults he hurled at her. Boring. Predictable. Tame. Tired of feeling bad, she’s ready to change her image, and go a little wild. What better way to prove her ex wrong than a hot night of sexual adventure at the secret campus kink club?

In the shadowy den of the kink club, she unexpectedly runs into Logan Mulvaney, her friend’s little brother. A player extraordinaire too hot for his own good, he may be younger, but the guy is light years ahead when it comes to sexual experience. Now he’s telling her to go home—“good girls” don’t belong here!

Georgia is tired of having others define her. She’s going to teach Logan a lesson he won’t forget—one white hot, mind-wrecking kiss . . . that leads to another . . . and another . . . and. . . . Realizing she’s way in over her head, Georgia runs.

Only Logan won’t let her go. Everywhere she goes he’s there, making her want every inch of him. Making her forget who she is. Who he is. And just how wrong they are for each other.

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SOPHIE JORDAN

Sophie Jordan grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English teacher, she's also the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Avon historical romances. She now lives in Houston with her family. When she's not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes and Diet cherry Coke preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids), and cramming her DVR with true-crime and reality-TV shows. Sophie also writes paranormal romances under the name Sharie Kohler.

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GIVEAWAY

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