Laura McCarthy Benson's Blog, page 8
February 24, 2014
FALLEN BEAUTY Blog Tour & Giveaway
“Without sin, can we know beauty? Can we fully appreciate the summer without the winter? No, I am glad to suffer so I can feel the fullness of our time in the light.”
Upstate New York, 1928. Laura Kelley and the man she loves sneak away from their judgmental town to attend a performance of the scandalous Ziegfeld Follies. But the dark consequences of their night of daring and delight reach far into the future.…
That same evening, Bohemian poet Edna St. Vincent Millay and her indulgent husband hold a wild party in their remote mountain estate, hoping to inspire her muse. Millay declares her wish for a new lover who will take her to unparalleled heights of passion and poetry, but for the first time, the man who responds will not bend completely to her will.…
Two years later, Laura, an unwed seamstress struggling to support her daughter, and Millay, a woman fighting the passage of time, work together secretly to create costumes for Millay’s next grand tour. As their complex, often uneasy friendship develops amid growing local condemnation, each woman is forced to confront what it means to be a fallen woman…and to decide for herself what price she is willing to pay to live a full life.
“Lovers of the Jazz Age, literary enthusiasts, and general historic fiction readers will find much to love about Call Me Zelda. Highly recommended.” –Historical Novel Society, Editors’ Choice(less)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Erika Robuck, critically acclaimed author of Hemingway’s Girl and Call Me Zelda, returns with another fascinating novel featuring a literary figure… this time, charismatic 1930s poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay.
In FALLEN BEAUTY (NAL Trade Paperback; 978-0-451-41890-6; March 4, 2014; $16), Robuck presents vivid new characters while portraying a beautifully eccentric Edna St. Vincent Millay, around whom an electrifying tale unfolds, where the fast pace of the jazz age collides with life in a small, judgmental town.
In the tradition of The Paris Wife and The Aviator’s Wife, FALLEN BEAUTY is a poignant page-turner comprised of fascinating pieces of history immersed in a beautifully written narrative. Robuck captures the radiance and charisma of Edna St. Vincent Millay, the fragility and power of family loyalty, and the ultimate, all-encompassing passion of love in its many forms.
About the Author:
Erika Robuck has appeared on the Southern Independent Bestseller List for Call Me Zelda and is the critically acclaimed author of Hemingway’s Girl. Born and raised in Annapolis, Maryland, Erika was inspired by the cobblestones and old churches. She is a contributor to the popular fiction blog, Writer Unboxed, and maintains her own historical fiction blog called Muse. For more information please visit www.erikarobuck.com, and Twitter @ErikaRobuck.
Erika Robuck will embark on a national tour in March, meeting with booksellers, bloggers, and readers across the country…
March 7 Launch event at BARNES & NOBLE in Annapolis, MD
March 11 Luncheon at PAGE & PALETTE in Fairhope, AL (12PM)
March 12 Reading and book signing featuring friend and NYT Bestselling author, Karen White, at FOXTALE BOOK SHOPPE in Woodstock, GA (6:30PM)
March 13 Ticketed luncheon at FICTION ADDICTION in Greenville, SC (City Range at 12PM)
March 14 Reading and book signing at MALAPROPS in Asheville, NC (7PM)
March 15 Reading and book signing at PARK ROAD BOOKS in Charlotte, NC (2PM)
March 17 Reading and book signing at THE COUNTRY BOOKSHOP in Southern Pines, NC (4:30PM)
March 22 A multi-author event featuring Nora Roberts’ Shadow Spell at TURN THE PAGE in Boonsboro, MD (12PM)
*For more information on Erika’s tour events, please visit www.ErikaRobuck.com and participating bookstore websites.
Please be sure to check out the other stops along the FALLEN BEAUTY Blog Tour for more unique review coverage and additional chances to enter to win a giveaway copy of FALLEN BEAUTY!!
February 17 A Patchwork of Books
Maurice On Books
February 18 Jenn’s Bookshelves
Burton Book Review
Leah's Thoughts
February 19 Great New Books
February 20 Chick Lit Plus
Girls Just Reading
February 21 Book Dilettante
Chefdruck: French
Bookfoolery
February 22 BookNAround
*Millay's Birthday* Entertainment Realm
Two Classy Chics
February 24 Laura's Review Bookshelf
Crystal Book Reviews
February 25 Literally Jen
Confessions of a Book Addict
February 26 Literate Housewife
LitChat
February 27 Anita Loves Books
To Read or Not To Read
Kayla's Reads and Reviews
February 28 Silver's Reviews
A Novel Review
The Write Teacher(s)
March 3 Alison's Book Marks
March 4 Biblio File
*On-Sale* Sincerely Stacie
Minding Spot
Bookalicious Mama
March 5 Teresa's Reading Corner
Book Addict Katie
So Many Precious Books, So Little Time
March 6 Entomology of a Bookworm
Steph The Bookworm
Kritters Ramblings
March 7 My 5 Monkeys
Traveling With T
February 7, 2014
Vampire Academy, The Movie
All righty! These are by far my favorite books of all time. Richelle Mead created a world where vampires are not scary creatures (well some of them are, but I'll get to that). Basically being a vampire is more of a nationality. Moroi are vampires with special gifts. Dhampirs are half-vampire breeds that are an offspring of vampire-human mating. Strigoi are the scary-ass vampires. Got it?
Rose Hathaway is Dhampir. She is not full vampire, but has special powers (heightened strength, speed, etc) so it makes her a perfect companion to guard the Moroi. A dying breed of vampires that are run by a royalty commonwealth.
Since it's first publication in 2007, I have devoured these books several times and when I heard they were making it into a movie, I was skeptical. I saw the TWILIGHT movies and well, they did nothing for me. I tend to be disappointed in Hollywood when it comes to adapting a best seller. So I went to the movies, by myself, not really expecting much.
Um, yeah, I went in totally wrong!
I loved the movie. I loved the casting, the direction, the adaptation, etc. It worked well. What didn't work well was the god-awful trailer. It did mainly a disservice to the film. I really hope they film the other books as well, because I think the whole story really takes off after FROSTBITE.
Zoey Deutsch as Rose was brilliant.
Lucy Fry as Lissa was also well cast.
Danila Kozlovsky this one was a leap of faith, but he really grew on me. To me Dimitri was leaner, taller, more sculpted. The accent was perfect, he was a bit thicker than I would've liked, but all in all, great casting.
The other side characters were great as well. No Adrian on this one, but if FROSTBITE is made, I'll be there with bells on!
December 7, 2013
Book Review: Gabriel's Redemption, Sylvain Reynard
Reading Level:Contemporary Romance/New Adult
Format:
Ebook (ARC)
Publisher:
Berkley Trade 12/3/13
Rating:
3
Gabriel and Julianne have been married for six months. He's a tenured professor at Boston University and Julia is Ph.D student at Harvard University. Married life for the both of them is wondrous and difficult at the same time. Gabriel is going through some hard decisions he has to face and Julia is feeling overwhelmed as a full-time student.
When Julia is asked to present a paper at Oxford, she is thrilled, but scared at the same time because her findings for this specific paper contradicts what Gabriel has written about in the past. When he reads the paper, he automatically tells her she's wrong and she can't possibly present the paper.
Stupid mistake #1, Professor Emerson: You never tell your wife she's wrong.
Stupid mistake #2, Professor Emerson: You don't tell you're overwhelmed wife you want kids sooner rather than later.
Stupid mistake #3, Professor Emerson: Don't keep things secret from said wife.
A lot of these scenarios were okay, but I felt they tended to go on too long. Gabriel's back and forth on having the vasectomy reversed was annoying. Still hating his father and not wanting anything to do with them, when Julianne wanted a medical history.
I found a lot of the times, that I got pulled out of the story when Christa, Paul, Natalie and Simon were written about. Yes, Reynard was trying to tie up loose ends, but it was more distracting than a comforting tie.
This book was definitely written for the fans who clamored for more of Gabriel and Julianne. And he gave it to them in spades, but honestly. The ending of book 2 was more than enough for me.
December 1, 2013
Cover Reveal and Sneak Peek of EMPOWER by Jessica Shirvington
I'm so excited to be able to show you this fantastic cover. I had a chance to read this book as a friend in Australia was kind enough to buy and send me a copy! It was everything I wanted it to be, but I also cannot wait for it to be released here in the States because I love the Sourcebooks Fire covers so much. So without much ado, here is the cover and below the jump will be the first chapter of EMPOWER.
chapter one
“But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and
miles to go before I sleep.”
Robert Frost
My sweater was coated in a layer of mist—-again—-a by--product of
life in London. I barely noticed the constant drizzle anymore. It’s not as if
the cold bothered me, not when I was the very definition of cold.
What was bothering me was the smell. There is
something rank about a meat market at night—-especially when you’re wedged into
the eaves wondering what, over the years, has been sprayed about and never
cleaned away. I shuddered.
The Smithfield Market was currently in vogue, but a gritty sense of
history thickened the air, giving it a density that made me sure this wasn’t
the first time the site had been used for wicked intent. And right now, it was
hunting hour.
At least I was the hunter.
I watched quietly as the exiles came into the center of the massive
terminal--style space, vaguely interested to note that there were six of them,
instead of the four I’d expected. No bother, I suppose. I still had the element
of surprise on my side.
The past two years had taught me not to let the everyday hiccups get
to me. Sure, the additional muscle would hurt, but only in the physical sense,
and I could cope with that. Rolling with the punches is necessary when you are
a Grigori—-a human--angel hybrid—-a weapon against the ever--increasing numbers
of exiled angels on earth. For me even more so, since they gave me such a
colorful nickname. I’m the Keshet—-the rainbow. I didn’t ask to be, but I made my
choices and I stand by them.
So, there I was. Although I was
still trying to figure out exactly what being the rainbow meant, mostly I found
that the desire to know conflicted with my continuing need not to think about
it at all. One thing I did know was that somehow I could create space with the
angels—-an unknown place where we were able to take form and communicate. My
angel maker—-whose name I still didn’t know—-said it was a place of new
possibilities.
For what, I was not sure.
But I know this is what I am. It
is what I will be.
The final two exiles sauntered up to the four already waiting. It
used to be impossible for me to be this close to exiles without them going into
a frenzy, sensing my presence. But I’d learned many lessons over the past year,
the most useful of which had been how to keep my guards up and locked so tight
that even exiles couldn’t sense me when I was truly concentrating.
Which—-judging by the thin film of sweat on my
forehead—-is now.
The exiles dumped the huge calico sack they had been dragging along
the floor and pulled it open, revealing three mutilated bodies to join the two
maimed ones already on display.
From my position it was difficult to tell how old the corpses were,
and if the smell was able to give a clue, I wouldn’t have known, the stink of
death and flesh being an overall theme of the place.
It was no wonder the exiles liked it so much.
Normally, exiles wouldn’t bother with the cleanup—-leaving evidence
was of no concern. Normally, the exiles enjoyed the mess
and despair they left behind. But not these exiles. These dark exiles were
working for someone else. They’d been following a plan, using a hit list, and
it was all too well constructed for any one of them to mastermind. Our intel
told us they’d been hired. Such behavior would usually be considered beneath
them, but apparently this group of exiles had decided the job was thrilling
enough to suffer the humiliation of working for the highest bidder—-even if
that was a human.
As for the billionaire businessman, well, that’s not my department,
but someone will pay him a visit. Right after all the evidence of his
wrongdoing—-minus the exile activity—-is handed over to the authorities and his
bank accounts are heavily siphoned to pay for the futures of his victims’
families. And our fee, of course.
Which, thanks to certain people, is exorbitant.
Two of the exiles were dressed impeccably: one in a steel--gray suit
and sporting villain--typical slicked--back hair; the other wore a
slim--collared black suit that hugged his tall figure and set off his
of--the--moment tousled, light brown hair. The remaining four were less
striking in casual wear, though nonetheless picture perfect. All six looked
over the bodies like fishermen comparing the size and quality of their haul. My
hand grazed my dagger, the blade that had been given to me after I first
embraced my powers and became a Grigori warrior three years ago. I was never
without it. I even had a sheath attached to my bed for a quick draw if needed.
I’d learned the hard way—-through the death and suffering of people
I loved and, strangely enough, through my own death and suffering—-exiles stop
at nothing. Their insanity and misguided missions know no bounds, and they take
pleasure in causing great pain and suffering to humankind.
At least tonight I would only face exiles of dark. A couple of years
ago, the two opposing sides, light and dark, had called a truce. Of course, I
tried not to think back to that time.
I tried constantly.
The discovery of the scripture that could end all Grigori had found
its way into my hands. That in itself was part of the reason the Assembly had
rejected me. They blamed me for trading with the dark exile, Phoenix. My
decision had allowed him to resurrect Lilith—-his mother, the first dark
exile—-from the dead, and she had taken control of the Grigori Scripture. But
at the time, my choice had been a simple one. Phoenix had Steph, my best
friend, and I wasn’t about to take any chances with her life. I’ve never
regretted that choice.
Not like so many others I’ve made.
In the end, that made it easier to walk away from a place in the
Academy when Josephine decided to change her mind. Of course, that was after
I’d given my life, Lincoln’s soul had shattered, and Phoenix had died—-proving
that not only was he the son of Lilith, but he was also the human son of the
first man, Adam—-all so that I could kill Lilith. And those reasons weren’t
even the ones I tried not to think about.
But I can’t go there right now.
I caught myself. I was working and the last thing I could afford to
do was acknowledge that I was thinking about him.
The six exiles started to shift
the remains of the bodies toward the incinerator, tossing them with
supernatural strength and no care. I half expected them to try and mince the
meat and load it onto trays for sale tomorrow. I wouldn’t put anything past
them.
“Make sure you take the index
fingers,” one of the suited exiles instructed. “Mr. George is expecting me to
deliver them to him tonight.”
That’s a shame. Though I’m sure Mr. George will receive
a knock at his door nonetheless.
“I still don’t understand why we
don’t just kill him too,” another said.
“Are you challenging me?” The exile who had spoken first stepped
forward.
His questioner mirrored his actions.
Here we go.
“If I must.”
Exiles never back down. Their pride and egotism combined with their
unique brand of insanity is just too much to ignore. Angels were not created to
take corporeal forms on earth. Though they have existed for eternity, in human
bodies, they manifest emotions in ways their innate nature can never process.
It makes them unstable. And almost unstoppable.
I wriggled into a better position and waited patiently, knowing that
this would work in my favor.
Sure enough, the exile who had spoken out first also struck out
first, engaging with the suited exile. It didn’t last long. The suit, clearly
the older of the two and a true fighter—-my guess was he had once been either a
Domination or a Power—-overpowered his opponent, snapping his neck and making
quick work of removing his heart.
We had our methods of ending their immortal existence; they had
theirs.
Happy days. I now have one less
exile to take care of.
I checked the time and sighed. If
I didn’t get this show on the road, I’d lose my window. And fighting alone was
always my preference.
The drop to the ground was at
least two stories high, but I landed behind the group of exiles lightly, thanks
to my angelic enhancements.
Breathing calmly, I let go of the power I was holding tightly
within, just enough to lower my shields.
The exiles, who had been preoccupied with their boasting, stiffened
instantly and spun around to face the new threat. It was almost comical, the
look of surprise on their faces. I guess a Grigori had never snuck up on them
before.
Responding quickly, the suited exile stepped forward, shoving two of
them to the side, the five of them quickly forming a semicircle around me.
So nice of
them to stand in single file.
But the way he studied me—-with trademark exile insanity and
undisguised raw desire—-made me think that this one recognized me. It happened
from time to time.
I wanted to sit around and chew the fat. Really. I couldn’t think of
anything I’d rather do with my time than hear about how they intended to rip me
limb from limb and how that would make them as great as gods and me the most
pathetic of humans. But when you’ve heard it all before and always walked
away—-or, at the very least, been carried—-while they were returned for their
ultimate judgment, it gets old. So, I cut to the chase.
“You have a choice. Make it or I will make it for you,” I said,
knowing that of all Grigori, I alone had the right to put it like that.
“Consider wisely,” I reinforced. After all, I could return them like any other
Grigori with one of our blades, but if I willed it, I could also strip them of
their angelic strengths and leave them human—-a fate exiles considered worse
than an eternity in the pits of Hell. As far as I was aware, I was the only
Grigori who could do this without requiring the exile in question to first choose
such a fate. Which, of course, never happened.
“You brought Lilith to her end,” the suit said, his head tilted to
the side, as if confused.
Yeah, that’s right, little ol’ me.
And it only
cost me everything
that mattered.
I raised my eyebrows. “Time’s almost up,” I said, refraining from
closing my eyes briefly as I felt a surge of power within, something that had
been happening increasingly. I was getting stronger, and exactly what that
meant and how to harness it wasn’t the kind of knowledge I was excited to
discover.
I could strip them all, make their choice for them, and be done with
it, but I’d only done it twice. Onyx had been my first, and I’d seen the pain
it caused him. I didn’t like knowing I was the one who took away his choice.
Who was I to do such a thing? The second had been a demonstration, and had
resulted in the exile in question meeting a quick death. I can’t say I
regretted it—-he’d been one of the exiles so happy to see me strapped to a
crucifix and tortured for hours—-but still…
Anyway, tonight was more like training, and I’d been taught to be
thorough. So, when the suit threw the first exile at me—-knowing he’d be
nothing more than a momentary distraction while I took him down and he lined up
the next one—-I got to work.
I braced, grabbing my dagger and moving into position. By the time
the exile came within range, my dagger had sliced through his heart and he was
no longer there. Simply gone. Where did their physical forms go? Beats me.
I was already spinning by the time the second one was sent flying
through the air toward me. My foot stopped his momentum and threw him back. I
was on him in an instant, my dagger going straight to his heart. It didn’t need to be the heart to return them, just a killing blow
inflicted by a Grigori weapon. You could slice into exiles all day long with
your garden--variety knife or shoot them with a gun, but neither option worked.
I’d never seen a Grigori manage to rip out an exile’s heart barehanded, and
even though the trick worked for exiles taking out other exiles, something told
me that it did not alter our rules. Permanent results for Grigori over exiles
only came via the blades of angels.
Or my blood.
The third exile went much the same way, and soon enough I was left
being circled by the two suits. To my surprise, they actually worked
together—-exiles aren’t good at that—-boxing me into a corner. The
brown--haired exile in the black suit moved in on me when the other one feigned
a move to my right. I took a closed fist across the face and a foot to the stomach.
I heard a crack—-broken rib—-but I didn’t register the pain. That
kind of pain was barely a tickle compared to the agony I carried inside, every
moment of every day.
My pause gave the other exile the chance to take a swing. His foot
collided with my hand so hard that my dagger went flying across the room. I
kept my eyes on my attackers but my ear on my weapon, listening to the
reverberations as it slid along the concrete floor and eventually hit the far
wall with a clang.
The exiles smiled.
I sighed.
Then I leapt into the air, gaining enough height to grip the
brown--haired exile’s throat between my knees. Twisting my body as I fell
through the air, I dragged the exile down with me, his neck breaking with a
loud crunch.
It wouldn’t keep him down for good,
but a broken neck buys time.
The exile in the gray suit grabbed me roughly from behind and threw
me into the wall.
I groaned as I slid down the metal piping my back had hit. It was
the opposite wall to my dagger.
Damn it.
It wasn’t an ideal situation. And
I wasn’t fool enough to delude myself into thinking I could make it to my
dagger. I was regretting my decision not to wear any other weapons tonight, but
my dagger was the only weapon that, when sheathed, was invisible to human eyes.
Think, Vi.
I’d come down behind a wall of old crates. I was considering how I
could use them to my advantage when I spotted a piece of the slim metal piping
I’d broken in my fall. It lay by my foot.
I could hear the exiles moving toward me. They were cackling.
“We should take her body with us to the tournament tonight,” one
said.
The other one laughed. “That
would definitely put dark in the lead.”
“And everyone would know that we were the ones who killed her.”
Can anyone say
“premature victory”?
Without stopping to think, I pulled off the bracelet from my left
wrist, using the specially designed clasp to cut open the flesh around my
silver marking, currently swirling in the presence of exiles, and let it spill
onto the end of the metal bar.
It took just a few seconds, and as soon as I palmed the pipe, the
exiles started to throw the crates aside then came into view, their smiles wide
with anticipation.
I stood. I didn’t return their smiles. I didn’t bother to do
anything other than what needed to be done.
I lunged, raising my elbow into the face of the black--haired exile
as I spun, the metal pipe striking his companion through the heart. He was
gone. I turned back to the first exile and, hoping that there was still enough
of my blood on the pipe to do the trick and using my supernatural speed for all
it was worth, I jammed the pipe straight into his neck.
His face wore an expression of pure surprise.
I’d seen that look before.
I sighed and my shoulders slumped forward, unfulfilled. This was my
job, one that I would do for as long as I existed, which could be a
significantly long time. But two years ago, I’d accepted that there was no
longer any satisfaction to be had in my world.
No fairytales.
Only the cold.
Turning toward where I thought my dagger had landed, my surroundings
suddenly changed.
I was no longer seeing the
warehouse. There were flashes of white, moving fast, pounding hooves. Horses.
Silver streaked through the air like a dance. Swords. Slashes of red painted
the sky. Something sharp and deadly ripping through flesh—-wet and gruesome.
Claws. Thousands and thousands of beings as far as I could see fought
ruthlessly, with no sign of tiring. In the center, two warriors battled beneath
a blinding light. I could not make out their faces.
I blinked hard.
The image was gone, and in its place Gray stood against the wall of
Lincoln’s warehouse, casually flipping my dagger in the air. “Would you like me
to applaud?” he asked.
Leaning against a metal support pole, he had that midtwenties look
I’d come to associate with the older Grigori—-though I had no idea how old he
really was—-and was dressed in his usual black jeans, black T--shirt, and black
leather jacket. Black really was the only color worth investing in—-blood
stains everything else. He sported about a week’s worth of growth on his face,
though his head was shaved, the scars that ran over the top of his skull
telling of a history both terrible and secret. Grigori did not generally scar,
so I knew that whatever had caused these had occurred before Gray had turned
seventeen.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat and glanced around as I
composed myself. The whole…hallucination…had lasted only a couple of seconds. I
clenched my jaw.
Christ. It was nothing. I’m just imagining things.
I snapped my bracelet back in place over my marking and shot him a
dry look. “Should I be charging a spectator fee?”
My voice sounded normal but my ears felt like they were still
ringing with the echoes of battle.
“Not if the show is going to be over so fast, princess.”
I glared at him for persisting with the stupid nickname. “You know,
you could’ve stepped in and given me a hand.”
“Sure,” he said with a solemn nod. “And you could’ve waited until
the meet time we’d all agreed on too.”
I looked away briefly. “So, why are you here
early?” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation.
Gray tilted his head. “Because I know you.”
I shrugged off the veiled accusation, even though it was true. To a
degree.
“It was easier this way.”
He threw my dagger into the air, and I caught it by the hilt and
slipped it back into its sheath.
“Well you can explain that to the others, since they just arrived.”
chapter one
“But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and
miles to go before I sleep.”
Robert Frost
My sweater was coated in a layer of mist—-again—-a by--product of
life in London. I barely noticed the constant drizzle anymore. It’s not as if
the cold bothered me, not when I was the very definition of cold.
What was bothering me was the smell. There is
something rank about a meat market at night—-especially when you’re wedged into
the eaves wondering what, over the years, has been sprayed about and never
cleaned away. I shuddered.
The Smithfield Market was currently in vogue, but a gritty sense of
history thickened the air, giving it a density that made me sure this wasn’t
the first time the site had been used for wicked intent. And right now, it was
hunting hour.
At least I was the hunter.
I watched quietly as the exiles came into the center of the massive
terminal--style space, vaguely interested to note that there were six of them,
instead of the four I’d expected. No bother, I suppose. I still had the element
of surprise on my side.
The past two years had taught me not to let the everyday hiccups get
to me. Sure, the additional muscle would hurt, but only in the physical sense,
and I could cope with that. Rolling with the punches is necessary when you are
a Grigori—-a human--angel hybrid—-a weapon against the ever--increasing numbers
of exiled angels on earth. For me even more so, since they gave me such a
colorful nickname. I’m the Keshet—-the rainbow. I didn’t ask to be, but I made my
choices and I stand by them.
So, there I was. Although I was
still trying to figure out exactly what being the rainbow meant, mostly I found
that the desire to know conflicted with my continuing need not to think about
it at all. One thing I did know was that somehow I could create space with the
angels—-an unknown place where we were able to take form and communicate. My
angel maker—-whose name I still didn’t know—-said it was a place of new
possibilities.
For what, I was not sure.
But I know this is what I am. It
is what I will be.
The final two exiles sauntered up to the four already waiting. It
used to be impossible for me to be this close to exiles without them going into
a frenzy, sensing my presence. But I’d learned many lessons over the past year,
the most useful of which had been how to keep my guards up and locked so tight
that even exiles couldn’t sense me when I was truly concentrating.
Which—-judging by the thin film of sweat on my
forehead—-is now.
The exiles dumped the huge calico sack they had been dragging along
the floor and pulled it open, revealing three mutilated bodies to join the two
maimed ones already on display.
From my position it was difficult to tell how old the corpses were,
and if the smell was able to give a clue, I wouldn’t have known, the stink of
death and flesh being an overall theme of the place.
It was no wonder the exiles liked it so much.
Normally, exiles wouldn’t bother with the cleanup—-leaving evidence
was of no concern. Normally, the exiles enjoyed the mess
and despair they left behind. But not these exiles. These dark exiles were
working for someone else. They’d been following a plan, using a hit list, and
it was all too well constructed for any one of them to mastermind. Our intel
told us they’d been hired. Such behavior would usually be considered beneath
them, but apparently this group of exiles had decided the job was thrilling
enough to suffer the humiliation of working for the highest bidder—-even if
that was a human.
As for the billionaire businessman, well, that’s not my department,
but someone will pay him a visit. Right after all the evidence of his
wrongdoing—-minus the exile activity—-is handed over to the authorities and his
bank accounts are heavily siphoned to pay for the futures of his victims’
families. And our fee, of course.
Which, thanks to certain people, is exorbitant.
Two of the exiles were dressed impeccably: one in a steel--gray suit
and sporting villain--typical slicked--back hair; the other wore a
slim--collared black suit that hugged his tall figure and set off his
of--the--moment tousled, light brown hair. The remaining four were less
striking in casual wear, though nonetheless picture perfect. All six looked
over the bodies like fishermen comparing the size and quality of their haul. My
hand grazed my dagger, the blade that had been given to me after I first
embraced my powers and became a Grigori warrior three years ago. I was never
without it. I even had a sheath attached to my bed for a quick draw if needed.
I’d learned the hard way—-through the death and suffering of people
I loved and, strangely enough, through my own death and suffering—-exiles stop
at nothing. Their insanity and misguided missions know no bounds, and they take
pleasure in causing great pain and suffering to humankind.
At least tonight I would only face exiles of dark. A couple of years
ago, the two opposing sides, light and dark, had called a truce. Of course, I
tried not to think back to that time.
I tried constantly.
The discovery of the scripture that could end all Grigori had found
its way into my hands. That in itself was part of the reason the Assembly had
rejected me. They blamed me for trading with the dark exile, Phoenix. My
decision had allowed him to resurrect Lilith—-his mother, the first dark
exile—-from the dead, and she had taken control of the Grigori Scripture. But
at the time, my choice had been a simple one. Phoenix had Steph, my best
friend, and I wasn’t about to take any chances with her life. I’ve never
regretted that choice.
Not like so many others I’ve made.
In the end, that made it easier to walk away from a place in the
Academy when Josephine decided to change her mind. Of course, that was after
I’d given my life, Lincoln’s soul had shattered, and Phoenix had died—-proving
that not only was he the son of Lilith, but he was also the human son of the
first man, Adam—-all so that I could kill Lilith. And those reasons weren’t
even the ones I tried not to think about.
But I can’t go there right now.
I caught myself. I was working and the last thing I could afford to
do was acknowledge that I was thinking about him.
The six exiles started to shift
the remains of the bodies toward the incinerator, tossing them with
supernatural strength and no care. I half expected them to try and mince the
meat and load it onto trays for sale tomorrow. I wouldn’t put anything past
them.
“Make sure you take the index
fingers,” one of the suited exiles instructed. “Mr. George is expecting me to
deliver them to him tonight.”
That’s a shame. Though I’m sure Mr. George will receive
a knock at his door nonetheless.
“I still don’t understand why we
don’t just kill him too,” another said.
“Are you challenging me?” The exile who had spoken first stepped
forward.
His questioner mirrored his actions.
Here we go.
“If I must.”
Exiles never back down. Their pride and egotism combined with their
unique brand of insanity is just too much to ignore. Angels were not created to
take corporeal forms on earth. Though they have existed for eternity, in human
bodies, they manifest emotions in ways their innate nature can never process.
It makes them unstable. And almost unstoppable.
I wriggled into a better position and waited patiently, knowing that
this would work in my favor.
Sure enough, the exile who had spoken out first also struck out
first, engaging with the suited exile. It didn’t last long. The suit, clearly
the older of the two and a true fighter—-my guess was he had once been either a
Domination or a Power—-overpowered his opponent, snapping his neck and making
quick work of removing his heart.
We had our methods of ending their immortal existence; they had
theirs.
Happy days. I now have one less
exile to take care of.
I checked the time and sighed. If
I didn’t get this show on the road, I’d lose my window. And fighting alone was
always my preference.
The drop to the ground was at
least two stories high, but I landed behind the group of exiles lightly, thanks
to my angelic enhancements.
Breathing calmly, I let go of the power I was holding tightly
within, just enough to lower my shields.
The exiles, who had been preoccupied with their boasting, stiffened
instantly and spun around to face the new threat. It was almost comical, the
look of surprise on their faces. I guess a Grigori had never snuck up on them
before.
Responding quickly, the suited exile stepped forward, shoving two of
them to the side, the five of them quickly forming a semicircle around me.
So nice of
them to stand in single file.
But the way he studied me—-with trademark exile insanity and
undisguised raw desire—-made me think that this one recognized me. It happened
from time to time.
I wanted to sit around and chew the fat. Really. I couldn’t think of
anything I’d rather do with my time than hear about how they intended to rip me
limb from limb and how that would make them as great as gods and me the most
pathetic of humans. But when you’ve heard it all before and always walked
away—-or, at the very least, been carried—-while they were returned for their
ultimate judgment, it gets old. So, I cut to the chase.
“You have a choice. Make it or I will make it for you,” I said,
knowing that of all Grigori, I alone had the right to put it like that.
“Consider wisely,” I reinforced. After all, I could return them like any other
Grigori with one of our blades, but if I willed it, I could also strip them of
their angelic strengths and leave them human—-a fate exiles considered worse
than an eternity in the pits of Hell. As far as I was aware, I was the only
Grigori who could do this without requiring the exile in question to first choose
such a fate. Which, of course, never happened.
“You brought Lilith to her end,” the suit said, his head tilted to
the side, as if confused.
Yeah, that’s right, little ol’ me.
And it only
cost me everything
that mattered.
I raised my eyebrows. “Time’s almost up,” I said, refraining from
closing my eyes briefly as I felt a surge of power within, something that had
been happening increasingly. I was getting stronger, and exactly what that
meant and how to harness it wasn’t the kind of knowledge I was excited to
discover.
I could strip them all, make their choice for them, and be done with
it, but I’d only done it twice. Onyx had been my first, and I’d seen the pain
it caused him. I didn’t like knowing I was the one who took away his choice.
Who was I to do such a thing? The second had been a demonstration, and had
resulted in the exile in question meeting a quick death. I can’t say I
regretted it—-he’d been one of the exiles so happy to see me strapped to a
crucifix and tortured for hours—-but still…
Anyway, tonight was more like training, and I’d been taught to be
thorough. So, when the suit threw the first exile at me—-knowing he’d be
nothing more than a momentary distraction while I took him down and he lined up
the next one—-I got to work.
I braced, grabbing my dagger and moving into position. By the time
the exile came within range, my dagger had sliced through his heart and he was
no longer there. Simply gone. Where did their physical forms go? Beats me.
I was already spinning by the time the second one was sent flying
through the air toward me. My foot stopped his momentum and threw him back. I
was on him in an instant, my dagger going straight to his heart. It didn’t need to be the heart to return them, just a killing blow
inflicted by a Grigori weapon. You could slice into exiles all day long with
your garden--variety knife or shoot them with a gun, but neither option worked.
I’d never seen a Grigori manage to rip out an exile’s heart barehanded, and
even though the trick worked for exiles taking out other exiles, something told
me that it did not alter our rules. Permanent results for Grigori over exiles
only came via the blades of angels.
Or my blood.
The third exile went much the same way, and soon enough I was left
being circled by the two suits. To my surprise, they actually worked
together—-exiles aren’t good at that—-boxing me into a corner. The
brown--haired exile in the black suit moved in on me when the other one feigned
a move to my right. I took a closed fist across the face and a foot to the stomach.
I heard a crack—-broken rib—-but I didn’t register the pain. That
kind of pain was barely a tickle compared to the agony I carried inside, every
moment of every day.
My pause gave the other exile the chance to take a swing. His foot
collided with my hand so hard that my dagger went flying across the room. I
kept my eyes on my attackers but my ear on my weapon, listening to the
reverberations as it slid along the concrete floor and eventually hit the far
wall with a clang.
The exiles smiled.
I sighed.
Then I leapt into the air, gaining enough height to grip the
brown--haired exile’s throat between my knees. Twisting my body as I fell
through the air, I dragged the exile down with me, his neck breaking with a
loud crunch.
It wouldn’t keep him down for good,
but a broken neck buys time.
The exile in the gray suit grabbed me roughly from behind and threw
me into the wall.
I groaned as I slid down the metal piping my back had hit. It was
the opposite wall to my dagger.
Damn it.
It wasn’t an ideal situation. And
I wasn’t fool enough to delude myself into thinking I could make it to my
dagger. I was regretting my decision not to wear any other weapons tonight, but
my dagger was the only weapon that, when sheathed, was invisible to human eyes.
Think, Vi.
I’d come down behind a wall of old crates. I was considering how I
could use them to my advantage when I spotted a piece of the slim metal piping
I’d broken in my fall. It lay by my foot.
I could hear the exiles moving toward me. They were cackling.
“We should take her body with us to the tournament tonight,” one
said.
The other one laughed. “That
would definitely put dark in the lead.”
“And everyone would know that we were the ones who killed her.”
Can anyone say
“premature victory”?
Without stopping to think, I pulled off the bracelet from my left
wrist, using the specially designed clasp to cut open the flesh around my
silver marking, currently swirling in the presence of exiles, and let it spill
onto the end of the metal bar.
It took just a few seconds, and as soon as I palmed the pipe, the
exiles started to throw the crates aside then came into view, their smiles wide
with anticipation.
I stood. I didn’t return their smiles. I didn’t bother to do
anything other than what needed to be done.
I lunged, raising my elbow into the face of the black--haired exile
as I spun, the metal pipe striking his companion through the heart. He was
gone. I turned back to the first exile and, hoping that there was still enough
of my blood on the pipe to do the trick and using my supernatural speed for all
it was worth, I jammed the pipe straight into his neck.
His face wore an expression of pure surprise.
I’d seen that look before.
I sighed and my shoulders slumped forward, unfulfilled. This was my
job, one that I would do for as long as I existed, which could be a
significantly long time. But two years ago, I’d accepted that there was no
longer any satisfaction to be had in my world.
No fairytales.
Only the cold.
Turning toward where I thought my dagger had landed, my surroundings
suddenly changed.
I was no longer seeing the
warehouse. There were flashes of white, moving fast, pounding hooves. Horses.
Silver streaked through the air like a dance. Swords. Slashes of red painted
the sky. Something sharp and deadly ripping through flesh—-wet and gruesome.
Claws. Thousands and thousands of beings as far as I could see fought
ruthlessly, with no sign of tiring. In the center, two warriors battled beneath
a blinding light. I could not make out their faces.
I blinked hard.
The image was gone, and in its place Gray stood against the wall of
Lincoln’s warehouse, casually flipping my dagger in the air. “Would you like me
to applaud?” he asked.
Leaning against a metal support pole, he had that midtwenties look
I’d come to associate with the older Grigori—-though I had no idea how old he
really was—-and was dressed in his usual black jeans, black T--shirt, and black
leather jacket. Black really was the only color worth investing in—-blood
stains everything else. He sported about a week’s worth of growth on his face,
though his head was shaved, the scars that ran over the top of his skull
telling of a history both terrible and secret. Grigori did not generally scar,
so I knew that whatever had caused these had occurred before Gray had turned
seventeen.
I swallowed over the lump in my throat and glanced around as I
composed myself. The whole…hallucination…had lasted only a couple of seconds. I
clenched my jaw.
Christ. It was nothing. I’m just imagining things.
I snapped my bracelet back in place over my marking and shot him a
dry look. “Should I be charging a spectator fee?”
My voice sounded normal but my ears felt like they were still
ringing with the echoes of battle.
“Not if the show is going to be over so fast, princess.”
I glared at him for persisting with the stupid nickname. “You know,
you could’ve stepped in and given me a hand.”
“Sure,” he said with a solemn nod. “And you could’ve waited until
the meet time we’d all agreed on too.”
I looked away briefly. “So, why are you here
early?” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation.
Gray tilted his head. “Because I know you.”
I shrugged off the veiled accusation, even though it was true. To a
degree.
“It was easier this way.”
He threw my dagger into the air, and I caught it by the hilt and
slipped it back into its sheath.
“Well you can explain that to the others, since they just arrived.”
November 26, 2013
A Note from Sylvain Reynard
Dear Everyone,
Back in September, I wrote a post in which I mentioned my next novel. I'm pleased to be able to give you more information now.
My next novel is the first in a new series, and it will be entitled The Raven. With this novel, I'm asking you to pack your bags and travel with me to the city of Florence. The Gabriel Series showed you the city during the day. This time, I'll show you Florence's underworld, which is ruled by creatures of the night …
Here's the formal announcement:
From the New York Times bestselling author of the Gabriel Series comes a dark, sensual tale of romance in a city shrouded in mystery…
Raven Wood spends her days at Florence’s Uffizi Gallery restoring fine works of Renaissance art. But an innocent walk home after an evening with friends changes her life forever. When she intervenes in the senseless beating of a homeless man, his attackers turn on her, dragging her into an alley. Raven is only semi-conscious when their assault is interrupted by a cacophony of growls followed by her attacker’s screams. Mercifully, she blacks out, but not before catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure who whispers to her …
Cassita vulneratus.
When Raven awakes, she is inexplicably changed. She returns to the Uffizi, but no one recognizes her and more disturbingly, she discovers that she’s been absent an entire week. With no recollection of the events leading up to her disappearance, Raven also learns that her absence coincides with one of the largest robberies in Uffizi history – the theft of a set of priceless Botticelli illustrations. When the baffled police force identifies her as its prime suspect, Raven is desperate to clear her name. She seeks out one of Florence’s wealthiest and elusive men in an attempt to uncover the truth about her disappearance. Their encounter leads Raven to a dark underworld whose inhabitants kill to keep their secrets …
As I mentioned in my September post, readers of Gabriel's Redemption will be able to read an excerpt from The Raven at the end of both the paperback and e-book editions.
But what I didn't mention was that one of the characters of The Raven appears in Gabriel's Redemption . Can you identify him or her? I welcome your guesses in the comments below and on social media.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there's a connection between The Gabriel Series and my new series - a connection that is more than simply me, or the city of Florence, or the Uffizi Gallery.. If you've read the cover copy above carefully, probably you're beginning to guess the answer. But I'll be explicit and state that we won't be saying goodbye to the Professor and Julianne at the end of Gabriel's Redemption . Look for them to have cameo appearances in The Raven as well ...
While I don't have a release date for The Raven yet, I hope to have one soon. This novel marks my transition from a contemporary love story to a paranormal one. I hope you'll join me on this journey and that if you have friends and family who enjoy paranormal novels, you'll help me share the news with them.
As we approach the December 3rd release date of Gabriel's Redemption in North America, my American publisher has listed a giveaway of the novel on Goodreads. US entrants can enter the contest here..
And if you'd like to read a new excerpt from Gabriel's Redemption and enter another contest, you can do so here here at Romance Times.
Finally, I want to wish everyone who is celebrating Thanksgiving this week a very happy holiday. I have much to be thankful for and in particular, I'm thankful for you, my readers.
All the best and thank you for your continued support,
SR
www.sylvainreynard.com
Note also posted on Sylvain's blog
Back in September, I wrote a post in which I mentioned my next novel. I'm pleased to be able to give you more information now.
My next novel is the first in a new series, and it will be entitled The Raven. With this novel, I'm asking you to pack your bags and travel with me to the city of Florence. The Gabriel Series showed you the city during the day. This time, I'll show you Florence's underworld, which is ruled by creatures of the night …
Here's the formal announcement:
From the New York Times bestselling author of the Gabriel Series comes a dark, sensual tale of romance in a city shrouded in mystery…
Raven Wood spends her days at Florence’s Uffizi Gallery restoring fine works of Renaissance art. But an innocent walk home after an evening with friends changes her life forever. When she intervenes in the senseless beating of a homeless man, his attackers turn on her, dragging her into an alley. Raven is only semi-conscious when their assault is interrupted by a cacophony of growls followed by her attacker’s screams. Mercifully, she blacks out, but not before catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure who whispers to her …
Cassita vulneratus.
When Raven awakes, she is inexplicably changed. She returns to the Uffizi, but no one recognizes her and more disturbingly, she discovers that she’s been absent an entire week. With no recollection of the events leading up to her disappearance, Raven also learns that her absence coincides with one of the largest robberies in Uffizi history – the theft of a set of priceless Botticelli illustrations. When the baffled police force identifies her as its prime suspect, Raven is desperate to clear her name. She seeks out one of Florence’s wealthiest and elusive men in an attempt to uncover the truth about her disappearance. Their encounter leads Raven to a dark underworld whose inhabitants kill to keep their secrets …
As I mentioned in my September post, readers of Gabriel's Redemption will be able to read an excerpt from The Raven at the end of both the paperback and e-book editions.
But what I didn't mention was that one of the characters of The Raven appears in Gabriel's Redemption . Can you identify him or her? I welcome your guesses in the comments below and on social media.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there's a connection between The Gabriel Series and my new series - a connection that is more than simply me, or the city of Florence, or the Uffizi Gallery.. If you've read the cover copy above carefully, probably you're beginning to guess the answer. But I'll be explicit and state that we won't be saying goodbye to the Professor and Julianne at the end of Gabriel's Redemption . Look for them to have cameo appearances in The Raven as well ...
While I don't have a release date for The Raven yet, I hope to have one soon. This novel marks my transition from a contemporary love story to a paranormal one. I hope you'll join me on this journey and that if you have friends and family who enjoy paranormal novels, you'll help me share the news with them.
As we approach the December 3rd release date of Gabriel's Redemption in North America, my American publisher has listed a giveaway of the novel on Goodreads. US entrants can enter the contest here..
And if you'd like to read a new excerpt from Gabriel's Redemption and enter another contest, you can do so here here at Romance Times.
Finally, I want to wish everyone who is celebrating Thanksgiving this week a very happy holiday. I have much to be thankful for and in particular, I'm thankful for you, my readers.
All the best and thank you for your continued support,
SR
www.sylvainreynard.com
Note also posted on Sylvain's blog
November 25, 2013
I am so behind the 8-Ball
I have a bunch of blog tours coming up in December and I'm trying to finish NANO. I have 21K left and I feel like I'm running out of steam.
Sorry I haven't posted at all. I missed a blog tour last week and a cover reveal, but I've been so crazy and now Thanksgiving is in four days and I'm cooking, so crazy week here.
Here's my schedule of Blog Tours:
12/3- Beautiful Broken Mess
12/4- Undressing Mr. Darcy
12/7- Gabriel's Redemption
12/11- Breathless
I think I have a few more, but I forgot to put them in the calendar. Crazy end of the year and my blog turns 5 on December 3!!!! Hard to believe I've been doing this for five years!!
Sorry I haven't posted at all. I missed a blog tour last week and a cover reveal, but I've been so crazy and now Thanksgiving is in four days and I'm cooking, so crazy week here.
Here's my schedule of Blog Tours:
12/3- Beautiful Broken Mess
12/4- Undressing Mr. Darcy
12/7- Gabriel's Redemption
12/11- Breathless
I think I have a few more, but I forgot to put them in the calendar. Crazy end of the year and my blog turns 5 on December 3!!!! Hard to believe I've been doing this for five years!!
November 4, 2013
October 30, 2013
Forsaken Lovers
Hi guys!
I've been very quiet here on Goodreads, but I wanted you all to know that the pub date for FORSAKEN LOVERS has been pushed back to 2014. I'm not exactly sure when. I've had some issues with the storyline and then I moved cross country (from MA to AZ) in July.
I thank each and every one of you who is excited to read this book. I promise to get back to it soon. I have something in the pipeline that I hope to announce soon.
Laura Benson
I've been very quiet here on Goodreads, but I wanted you all to know that the pub date for FORSAKEN LOVERS has been pushed back to 2014. I'm not exactly sure when. I've had some issues with the storyline and then I moved cross country (from MA to AZ) in July.
I thank each and every one of you who is excited to read this book. I promise to get back to it soon. I have something in the pipeline that I hope to announce soon.
Laura Benson
October 28, 2013
Cover Reveal: Better, S. Walden
Title: Better (Too Good #2)
Author: S. Walden
Expected Release:
November 19,
2013
Hosted By: Romance Addict Book Blog - http://www.romanceaddictbookblog.com/
Synopsis
Their relationship has been exposed, and now their lives are changed forever.
For Cadence Miller, the fast track to adulthood proves intimidating and frustrating. She’s a little girl lost—abandoned by her parents and uncertain of her future. She doesn’t think she “fits” anywhere. She’s eighteen. She wants to be older. And the result is both comical and heartbreaking.
Mark Connelly will do anything to provide Cadence a stable, loving home—to be her protector. But he’s just as broken and lost, and his heart won’t let go of his past so easily. He knows he must share his secret with Cadence. And he hopes his revelation won't tear them apart. He hopes it will draw them closer, and make their love better.
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18401154-better
FOLLOW UP TO -
Good by S. Walden
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17801215-good
Amazon: http://amzn.to/18jbbEU
Paperback: http://amzn.to/18NTMr4
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/151En2r
Kobo: http://bit.ly/19yBwPl
B&N: http://bit.ly/15lL4Qk
Sale
Good by S. Walden is current on is currently on sale for .99¢ on Amazon for a LIMITED TIME to help celebrate the release of Better!
Amazon: http://amzn.to/18jbbEU
S. Walden
S. Walden used to teach English before making the best decision of her life by becoming a full-time writer. She lives in Georgia with her very supportive husband who prefers physics textbooks over fiction and has a difficult time understanding why her characters must have personality flaws. She is wary of small children, so she has a Westie instead. Her dreams include raising chickens and owning and operating a beachside inn on the Gulf Coast (chickens included). When she's not writing, she's thinking about it.She loves her fans and loves to hear from them. Email her at swaldenauthor@hotmail.com and follow her blog at http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com where you can get up-to-date information on her current projects.
Website: http://www.swaldenauthor.com
Blog: http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/swaldenauthor
Twitter: @swaldenauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/swaldenauthor
Teaser
She made sure to look as inconspicuous as possible for her first day of classes: jean shorts, tank top, flip flops. She kept her hair down but pulled it off her face with a headband. She wore a tad bit of makeup. Nothing showy, but she thought first day classes warranted mascara and lip gloss, at the least.
She slid into a seat in the row closest to the windows. She didn’t bother to look for Michael. Or save him a seat. She still wasn’t sure about that guy. She felt guilty for not telling Mark about Michael’s kissing comment. She wanted a friend, but she was unsure if he was a good one. She scanned the room for somebody better. She needed a girlfriend. And there was one sitting directly behind her.
“Hi,” Cadence said tentatively.
“Hi,” the girl replied.
Cadence wasn’t sure what else to say. Neither was the girl. That was until she recognized Cadence.
“You went to Crestview High.”
Cadence’s face fell. “Yeah.”
“My friend went there. She graduated with you.”
Cadence nodded.
The girl leaned in and whispered, “Did you really have an affair with your math teacher?”
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October 8, 2013
Countdown Clock: Torn, Monica Murphy's 2nd Billionaire Bachelor's Club Book!
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