Showing posts with label Book #3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book #3. Show all posts

April 5, 2016

Release Day Blitz ~ PERFEKT BALANCE By S.T. Bende



PERFEKT BALANCE
THE ÆRE SAGA: BOOK THREE


Genre: Upper YA Paranormal/Fantasy (Norse Mythology)


Release Date: April 5, 2016


Back Cover Copy


Become what you believe.


Elsa Fredriksen knows there’s a thin line between love and fear. As High Healer, she rights the wrongs committed by those who choose the darkness. But even Asgard’s secret weapon can’t undo every injury—especially when her fate is completely entwined with the god she’s trying to save.


Elsa’s in love with the Norse God of Justice. But Forse’s heart is ruled by fear—fear that the past will repeat itself; fear that opening his heart will compromise his ability to do his job; fear that he’ll hurt the one girl he desperately wants to protect. Again.


When Elsa faces off against the very monster she once swore to protect, her survival depends on a power she isn’t sure she can control. And when Forse’s worst nightmare unfolds in front of him, Elsa has to decide whether it’s more important to hold the realms in perfekt balance . . . or hold on to the guy she can’t imagine existing without.


Buy Links:
Perfekt Balance on Goodreads


Perfekt Balance Excerpt:


“Hold up.” Henrik held out one hand. “Where are you going? And why is Forse about to kill someone?”


We all turned to look at Forse. Sure enough, his eyes were slits, his breathing was sharp, and he had a pulsing forehead vein that rivaled Tyr’s neck one. He positively seethed anger.


“We are going to Svartalfheim,” Tyr answered coolly. The four gods in the room drew a collective gasp.


The mortal took in our reactions with practiced calm. “Which one’s Svartalfheim again?” she asked lightly.


“The worst one after Helheim,” Brynn muttered.


“It’s the realm of the dark elves,” I explained. “When the cosmos was born, the blackest souls were sent to a wasteland—a realm of isolation and soot. Svartalfheim.”


“And you’re all going there?” Mia squeaked.


“Forse, Brynn, Elsa, and I are going there.” Tyr spoke with his chin on Mia’s head. “You’re staying here with Henrik.”


“Elsa doesn’t need to go,” Forse argued.


“You of all people know how delicate this retrieval is. The perp has been a fugitive since…well, it’s been a long time. She’s being harbored by dark elves who demanded Fenrir in her place, and I have no intention of unleashing that beast again. The elves agreed to accept one of the Svartish treasures from the vault instead of the wolf, but they could very well turn on us once we get there. We need a Unifier to make sure this exchange goes peacefully. Right now, Elsa’s all we’ve got,” Tyr finished.


“Um, thanks?” I said.


“You know what I mean.” Tyr turned his gaze to me. “I don’t want to drag you into Svartalfheim any more than Forse does. I know you’re not up to speed on the peacekeeping function, and I don’t like putting you in danger. Not only are you my baby sister, but you’re a Key—you’re one of the gods we train to protect. I hate everything about this. Unfortunately, I don’t have another option.”


“I could go,” Mia offered. Her voice was shaky, but she held her head high.


“No.” Five voices sounded as one. A combination of relief and disappointment flickered across Mia’s features.


“If I’m not ready, you’re definitely not ready,” I reminded her. “I’ll get this one, and once I have a handle on this bizarre skill set I’ll pass the torch to you. I promise.”


“I’ll hold down the fort from here this time.” Mia stared me down. “But I don’t want to be on baking duty with Henrik forever.”


I swallowed. Figure this out, Elsa.


“Hey, there are worse things than baking with me.” Henrik raised an eyebrow. “I never did teach you to make my mom’s chocolate mousse cake, did I?”


Mia looked up with a small smile. “Does she use Mexican vanilla?”


“Tahitian,” Henrik countered. “And I’ve got a stash in my secret cabinet.”


“Now that that’s settled, does anyone want to tell me the name of the perp we’re retrieving from that Odin-forsaken realm?” Brynn chimed in.


I turned to my brother and waited for his answer. When he spoke, his voice was clipped.


“Runa.”


The name fell like a lead balloon at a birthday party. Brynn’s mouth dropped open, and Henrik sucked in a breath. I couldn’t see Forse’s face, but the sound of knuckles cracking behind me let me know he wasn’t happy. I could relate.


Oh dear gods. We’re going after Runa.


The room swirled in a violent vortex, and Forse gripped my arms to steady me. As he righted me in my chair, the world slowed to a standstill. Runa was more than just Forse’s psychotic ex-girlfriend. She was the monster who committed the crime—the one that changed everything.


When I finally found my voice, it came out dry and scratchy. “We’re going after Runa.”


“Yes.” Forse watched me carefully.


“And you’re charging her with high treason.”


“Yes,” Forse repeated.


“Good.”


Forse kept his hands on my arms as I breathed through my rage. “Elsa, if you don’t want to go with us we can—”


“We can what?” Tyr interrupted. “We can’t let the dark elves keep her—her crime was against Asgard, and she needs to answer to our realm for what she’s done. Not Svartalfheim. You of all gods know that.”


“I’m not letting her hurt Elsa!” Forse exploded. The words echoed off the marble countertops, piercing the normally calm kitchen.


“I’m not letting her hurt anyone!” Tyr yelled back. “And the only way I can ensure that is if I bring her to Odin!”


“Enough!” I interjected. With my emotions under control, I re-opened my abilities and sent waves of calm at Forse and Tyr. Their chests continued to rise and fall with angry breaths, but their auras reflected a slight decrease in rage. It was the best I could do. “Forse, I understand where you’re coming from. But Tyr’s right. Runa needs to be brought to justice. And since that’s you”—I tapped the justice god with my pointer finger—“and since I’ve got your back whether you like it or not, I’m going with you. Tyr’s spot on; we don’t want this exchange going bad. We can’t let her hurt anyone else. I need you to have that faith in me you promised you would.”


“I believe in you, Elsa. I’ve always known you have what it takes to master this job, even before you believed it yourself. You’re incredibly powerful, and you can do anything you set your mind to. But there are so many forces working against us these days. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.” Forse pressed his forehead to mine. His concern was sweet, and normally I’d have melted into a giggling mess at the contact, but right now I just couldn’t go there.


“Let’s make sure we’re all safe then. We’ll bring Runa in so she can be prosecuted to the fullest extent of Asgardian law.” I shot Forse a look brimming with confidence I didn’t actually possess. Since the energetic fireballs shooting between him and Tyr suggested they still operated at a six on the anger scale, it was clear I was a woefully ineffective Unifier.


And I had the job of my life ahead of me.



AUTHOR BIO:
Before finding domestic bliss in suburbia, S.T. Bende lived in Manhattan Beach (where she became overly fond of Peet’s Coffee) and Europe… where she became overly fond of McVities cookies. Her love of Scandinavian culture and a very patient Norwegian teacher inspired the books of The Elsker Saga and The Ære Saga. She hopes her characters make you smile, and she dreams of skiing on Jotunheim and Hoth.


Find S.T. on Twitter @stbende, her website (www.stbende.com), or Facebook (www.facebook.com/stbende). While you're at it, introduce yourself to @UllMyhr and @TyrFredriksen -- when they’re not saving the cosmos from dark elves, they love meeting new friends . . . especially the human kind.


Want to connect with fellow Norse god fans? S.T.'s readers have created a Facebook group! Head over to the RagnaRockstars page to chat with other readers, talk with S.T., and get access to exclusive content... including Ull POVs and sneak peeks at upcoming Ære Saga books!


AUTHOR LINKS
Connect with ST Bende at:


TUR is currently available for FREE to newsletter subscribers!


Skål, y’all!
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March 15, 2016

Release Blitz & Giveaway ~ A Spring Scandal by Tracey Smith



The elusive Ms. Devereaux has been found murdered and once again Aaron and Maggie find themselves being drawn back to Devereaux Manor. This time it is to claim his inheritance.

The entire Devereaux fortune has been left to Aaron and his sister Kate. While Kate is ready to embrace her new life at Devereaux Manor with Jason by her side, Aaron can’t help but ask the question that is haunting them all. Who killed Agnes Devereaux?

Dylan has vowed to help his friends solve this mystery once and for all, but the demons of his own past haunt him. Will Andi ever be able to forgive him for breaking her heart? Will she be able to forgive him when she finds out what he’s done?

Will any of them survive once they uncover the secrets of Devereaux Manor?


August 13, 2015

Review Tour ~ Promises to Keep by Maegan Beaumont


Title: Promises to Keep (Sabrina Vaughn #3)
Author: Maegan Beaumont
Release Date: August 8th 2015
Publisher: Midnight Ink

Add to Goodreads

For three years, Michael O'Shea has been forced to act as a personal assassin for Livingston Shaw, the cold-blooded puppet master who controls the remote bioweapon implanted in Michael's back. When Shaw offers to release him if he can recover a kidnapped child, Michael works with every ounce of his being to put the pieces together before all the witnesses are murdered.

Meanwhile, police Inspector Sabrina Vaughn--the woman Michael passionately loves but has been kept from seeing--discovers the body of a little boy that bears a striking resemblance to the missing child. Against all his instincts, Michael must draw Sabrina into his life as one of the world's most notorious assassins if he's to overcome the legacy of his bloodthirsty past.



Purchase Link
Amazon US




As she has a knack for doing - Maegan Beaumont sucked me into the third installment of her Sabrina Vaughn series straight away and I basically didn't move until I'd devoured it!

All of my favorites characters are back to help - and sometimes hinder - Sabrina and Michael as they again face off against a common enemy.
The perfect blend of suspense, mystery, romance and thrilling action came together in Promises to Keep, taking me on an exhilarating ride that had me hanging on to my nerves by a thread!

And that ending - oh boy! I don't want to give anything away but man, I simply could not contain my joy, excitement, torment; my poor overworked heart simply could not take all the feels!!

Maegan Beaumont's smooth and evocative writing is on point, I have been left satisfied and yet I'm so darn hungry for more -
I am desperate for more Sabrina and Michael.

I'm emotionally drained but buzzing from the thrill of it - Promises to Keep is a 5 star read.



Carved in Darkness (Book #1)

Past horrors bleed into a present day nightmare

Fifteen years ago, a psychotic killer abducted seventeen year old Melissa Walker. For 83 days she was raped and tortured before being left for dead in a deserted church yard... But she was still alive.

Melissa begins a new life as homicide inspector, Sabrina Vaughn. With a new face and a new name, it's her job to hunt down murderers and it's a job she does very well.

When Michael O'Shea, a childhood acquaintance with a suspicious past, suddenly finds her, he brings to life the nightmare Sabrina has long since buried.

Believing that his sister was recently murdered by the same monster who attacked Sabrina, Michael is dead set on getting his revenge--using Sabrina as bait.

Purchase Link

Amazon US

READ MY REVIEW HERE

Sacrificial Muse (Book #2)
Add to Goodreads
She is his muse, and the fates require sacrifice.

San Francisco Detective Sabrina Vaughn is able to shrug off the nine red roses being delivered to her office every day. But when only eight roses arrive on the same day a Berkeley student's mutilated body is found, Sabrina fears that the killer is taunting her. Forced into a partnership with a deceitful reporter who somehow remains one step ahead of her, Sabrina discovers that she's the object of a psychopath's twisted delusion . . . and there may be no escape.


Purchase Link

Amazon US

READ MY REVIEW HERE


A native Phoenician, Maegan’s stories are meant to make you wonder what the guy standing in front of you in the Starbucks line has locked in his basement, and feel a strong desire to sleep with the light on.

When she isn’t busy fulfilling her duties as Domestic Goddess for her high school sweetheart turned husband, Joe, and their four children, she is locked in her office with her computer, her coffee pot and her Rhodesian Ridgeback, and one true love, Jade.

Twitter ~ Blog ~ Goodreads ~ Website ~ Facebook


August 6, 2015

Release Blitz ~ Lay Your Hands on Me by Blair Babylon

Brand-new New Adult Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!

Xan Valentine, the rock star that Rolling Stone called “sex incarnate,”
stands in the spotlight every night and sings love songs to the women in the audience. They swoon. They scream. They believe him. They don’t know him like Georgie does.
They’ve never seen him nearly beat two men to death until someone pulled him off. They’ve never seen the coldness in his dark eyes when he sat across a table, negotiating a contract that broke their hearts.
He’s never stolen into their bedroom at night, slid into their bed, and made love to them until dawn, and he’s never treated them like it never happened while the bitemarks on their backs and thighs were still sore.
They’ve never seen him play the violin like an angel.
Or a demon.
Georgie is officially in his band now, playing the keyboards, and every concert drives the music deeper into her soul. If Georgie leaves the protection of the band and Xan Valentine, the Russian mafia will kidnap and kill her. If she stays and plays in his band for just a few more weeks, Xan will pay for her college and law school.
If her heart can survive even one more night with him.
iBooks / iTunes / Apple


Lay Your Hands on Me is the third book in the Georgie and Xan series.

Haven’t read the first one yet?
IT’S FREE!
Download Every Breath You Take (Book 1) for FREE here:
iBooks / iTunes  ~  Kobo
Excerpt from Lay Your Hands On Me

Xan Valentine, the rock star—and Georgie could tell that he was Xan by the arrogant tilt of his head and the jitter of his fingers drumming on the conference room table—pushed a thick contract across the table toward her. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore a trim, blue business suit without a tie, his collar unbuttoned at his throat. Silver and steel chains at his throat sparkled white glints in the overhead fluorescent lights, and that green crystal earring dangled from his ear lobe.
He looked straight at her while he slid the contract over the wood like he was accusing her of something, his dark eyes level and still as he stared. White bandages wrapped his knuckles, but at least the bleeding must have stopped overnight.
Jonas, the band manager for Killer Valentine, sat on Xan’s left. He sat straight in his chair, his black suit pressed and smooth.
Georgie was alone on her side of the table. The chill air in the hotel leaked down the back of her tee shirt and up her short sleeves, raising goosebumps on her skin.
She picked up the stack of paper and riffled through it. “This is a lot of contract for just two months.”
“There’s a lot to do in a rock band,” Xan said.
He didn’t sneer, and he didn’t snarl. If anything, his businesslike tone sounded resigned.
“I’m not signing this until I read the whole thing. I want an attorney’s opinion on it, too. Do you have an electronic copy?”
Jonas slid a thumb drive across the table to her. “Here’s a PDF.”
“Thanks.” She crammed the stick into the back pocket of her jeans.
Xan said, “We need you to sign it before you play with the band again, and the next performance is two days from now.”
“I’m not signing something I haven’t read or don’t understand.” The sheaf of pages weighed in her hands.
“We have a show coming up. If you haven’t signed it by tomorrow morning, we have to cancel the show. If we cancel it—”
“I know. I know. The fans will post vomiting gifs and Killer Valentine will be ruined forever.” She flipped to the front page, which was mostly defining terms, like that Georgie was The Band Member, Killer Valentine, Inc. was The Band, and Mr. Alexandre Grimaldi de Valentinois was The Employer.
So Xan was the one who was paying her, not the band.
Georgie flipped more pages.
Xan folded his hands and looked down at his fingers. He didn’t look like he was trying to hide something, just waiting. Steel and black metal rings wound around his fingers, and thick chains dangled on his wrists near the cuffs of his suit jacket and clicked against the table when he moved his arms.
Georgie read further into the contract, slowing down when she got to The Band Member’s Duties.
The concerts were there, of course, including playing the music while sober and not under the influence of controlled substances.
That must be a new clause.
Her chest hurt for a minute. Rade had been a brilliant keyboard player, and hearing him play classical music on the piano would have been amazing. She had meant to ask him to play for her.
She sucked in a steadying breath and read on.
The terms of the contract ran until July thirty-first, a little over two months, the entire European leg of the tour.
After that, Georgie was free to move to Atlanta and Emory University, where she would resume her plan to go to law school and pay off her many, many debts, both financial and moral. There was an option to renew the contract for one-year terms after that, which made Georgie snort.
No way.
No fucking way was she sticking around after July thirty-first.
The next part was weird.
Georgie looked up at Xan and Jonas. Xan was still meditating on his clasped hands, but Jonas was scrolling through something on his phone. She asked, “What do you mean by ‘public relations engagements?’”
“Anything the band needs,” Xan said. His hands were still clasped on the table. “Radio interviews in the mornings by phone, studio interviews, clubs, other appearances.”
“I can’t do public appearances,” she said. “They’re still after me.”
The Butorins, a Russian mafia bratva, had tried to kidnap Georgie several times because she owed them eight million dollars. Her father had swindled them out of that money, and they felt that Georgie should pay up. Before they had found her, she had planned to first pay off the charities that her father had stolen from, but she liked breathing, too. If she were dead, she would never pay off all the charities.
Xan shook his head. “The public eye is the safest place for you, currently. Every attempt to kidnap you has been in private or at least away from cameras or crowds. Also, later in the contract, you’ll see that it’s not your responsibility to provide security. It’s ours. You’ll have Adrien, who is the most diligent and highly trained security person we have. You’ll have others, too. You’ll be safe.”
“I need to hide. I need locked doors between me and the Russian mob.”
He shook his head again, but his careful, methodical gesture didn’t exude the wild energy of Xan anymore. “You need to remain in the limelight. Witnesses are your best security.”
Even his English accent had switched to the high-society British of Alex de Valentinois, leaving behind the guttural, working-class accent of Xan Valentine. His switches dizzied Georgie, but Jonas didn’t even look like he had noticed.
Jonas and the rest of the band either didn’t hear the difference in Alex’s accents or else they didn’t know what they signified, not that Georgie could have exactly defined what they meant, either.
But she knew that he was Alex now.
She stole another peek at Jonas, who was still peering at his phone.
Not that she could call him Alex. Everybody around here only knew him as Xan and only called him Xan.
“I can’t do appearances,” she repeated.
Alex’s dark eyebrows twitched. “The band needs all its members to do appearances.”
“I’m not really a band member.”
Alex leaned across the table and tapped the contract. “For two months, you are a full band member. You will continue to receive royalties on anything you record or write for the duration of the copyright.”
“It’s a ridiculously generous contract,” Jonas muttered. “Contract musicians and writing consultants are generally paid a flat rate under work-for-hire laws. I’ve never seen anything like this for a short-term gig.”
Georgie raised her eyebrows at Alex. “Really?”
He shrugged. “We negotiated the terms last night. This is merely the formal contract.”
“If this isn’t customary—” she started.
“We’re in a crisis. It isn’t customary to simultaneously lose two musicians out of five.”
“Six,” Jonas muttered.
“Rhiannon is a contractor under work-for-hire guidelines,” Xan told him.
“Hell, if Georgie is a band member, Rhiannon should be, too.”
“Just whom are you advocating for, Jonas?” His mild tone belied what he was actually saying.
Jonas set his mouth in a hard line and went back to texting on his phone.
Alex turned back to Georgie, his face still as impassive as marble. “The songs that we’ve already written together are copyrighted in both our names. Future music will be the same.”
Georgie went back to reading. The Non-Disclosure Agreement was outlined in excruciating detail, including but not limited to any communication in any form—electronic, print, or methods not therein described or currently in existence, and the ban was worldwide. She couldn’t even discuss him or the band by using smoke signals in Siberia or telepathic waves on Alpha Centauri. “Guess I won’t be writing my memoirs.”
“No,” Alex said. “No memoirs.”
Georgie saw the flaw in the logic. “How am I going to do interviews if I can’t discuss anything about the band?”
Jonas said, “You’ll have a list of approved topics and talking points.”
“That sounds spontaneous,” she grumbled.
Jonas looked confused. “It’s how all interviews are run. You can’t have musicians puking out anything they want to talk about. They’d just incriminate themselves for all sorts of things, like smuggling drugs over international borders up their asses.”
Georgie frowned at him.
“Okay, you wouldn’t do that,” Jonas said. “But can you imagine Grayson with a live mic and no piece of paper in front of him?”
“Grayson is in rehab,” Alex said, twisting one of the silver death’s head rings on his fingers.
“Yeah, but still,” Jonas sighed.
While Georgie had been standing in line for a latte that morning in the hotel lobby, she had seen Alex escort Grayson, their bass player, to a limo that morning, shake his hand, and stand on the sidewalk as it drove away. He had strode back into the hotel without looking back, his jaw set.
She asked, “What’s this ‘other and sundry duties?’”
“Anything band-related that I think is necessary,” Alex said, still fidgeting with his rings.
She didn’t want to make a suggestive comment, not after last night, not when she wanted to break down and sob or punch him in the face, she wasn’t sure which. “Okay.”
Alex’s eyes flicked up at her. “Band-related,” he stressed. “Keep reading.”
Georgie skimmed through the document, slowing only when she came to a section titled, “No Fraternization Among Band Members.”
The language was brutal. The consequences were severe, from fines to summary dismissal with no recourse. “This clause is pretty rough.”
“You wanted it,” Alex said, still staring at his hands.
“So what happens to you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you make a pass at me, I get fired and lose my college financing. What about you?”
He looked up from his hands, and for the first time, lines of anger creased around his eyes. The anger spread through his face and body, tightening his arms and clenching his hands into fists. In a guttural British accent, Xan said, “I’ll break up the band. I’ll cancel all future concerts and pay off the venues. I’ll walk away.”
“Is that in the contract?” she asked.
“I’ll have it added.”
Jonas stared at Xan, his lip curling up. “You can’t break up the band over something like this.”
“Watch me.”
“You can’t throw away everything you’ve worked for,” Jonas insisted.
Xan didn’t look away from Georgie. His dark eyes narrowed, and he bit down on the words. “She’s right. It’s not fair for her to take all the risk. If I violate that clause, I’ll burn Killer Valentine to the ground.”
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