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Saturday, July 28, 2012

Review of Beg For It, for consenting adults only.


Book Review of Beg For It Sponsored by Bewitching Book Tour



Beg for It
Pact of Seduction, Book Two
By Stacey Kennedy

Genre: BDSM erotic romance
Publisher: Loose Id
Date of Publication: May 29, 2012

ISBN: 978-1-61118-685-7
ASIN: B008AX0LQ2

Number of pages: 90
Word Count: 25, 066

Purchase Links:


Book Description:

The Pact of Seduction has one rule: fulfill your ultimate fantasy. Bella’s problem, she can’t live up to her vow. But her failure spins events that lead her into unknown territory. Kole, a Dom at the sex club Castle Dolce Vita, wasn’t part of her fantasy, but he’s about to show her he should have been.

Kole is more than willing to introduce Bella to BDSM since he’s held an interest in her for some time. But the feisty woman isn’t easily tamed and her strong personality proves to be difficult. While she might be determined to keep him at a distance, Kole has other ideas. He won’t allow her to shut him out.

A pact between best friends brought them together, emotional barriers tear them apart. Kole skillfully reminds Bella through pleasure and punishment that she is now his submissive, and her place is under his command.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and elements.

About the Author

Stacey Kennedy’s novels are lighthearted fantasy with heart-squeezing, thigh-clenching romance, and they even give you a good chuckle every now and again. But within the stories you’ll also find fast-paced action, life-threatening moments and a big bad villain who needs to be destroyed. Her urban fantasy/paranormal and erotic romance series have hit Amazon Kindle and All Romance eBooks bestseller lists.

Stacey welcomes comments from readers. You can find her at www.staceykennedy.com


Short Excerpt:

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Loose Id
Only one thing would save Bella now—a stiff drink. Reed and Kole’s parties were always fun, and it was nice to see new friends she’d made over the past month. But her mood was right in the toilet. It’d been that way all day and had only gotten worse since she joined the party. She shouldn’t have come.
She cursed on a low breath. How in the hell was she going to get out of her current predicament? Originally, it’d been she who offered the idea of the pact of seduction, and she couldn’t even commit. Pathetic.
Marley’s giggle drew her attention, and Reed had pulled her onto his lap, nibbling at her neck. As horrible as it was, jealously surged. Maybe she had hoped that her fantasy would fill that empty void in her soul. Sure, it was meant as something sexually fun, but Bella craved something…
A part of her remained unfulfilled, even if she didn’t understand exactly what was missing. All she knew, her life at this moment was boring with a side of totally sucks.
She glanced over at Kyra, who laughed with Sadie, and nudged her arm. “I’ll be back. I need some air.”
“Sure.” Kyra’s green eyes were a little glassy. The wine clearly had gotten to her. “Want some company?”
“Nah.” She plastered on a fake smile. “I won’t be long.”
Kyra gave a nod, then turned her attention back at Sadie as the two chuckled about something Sadie had said. If only Bella had something to laugh about. She rose from the couch and made her way through the crowd.
As she passed, she noticed a man sitting on the ottoman and a woman knelt at his feet with her arms over his legs. The position appeared casual enough, but it also looked…different. As if the woman enjoyed being at his feet. Another spurt of jealously soared, and she gave her head a good hard shake. She was apparently envious of everyone who had a relationship. And since when had she been jealous of a BDSM relationship?
What’s gotten into you?
She made her way through the living room and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool air brushed against her skin, and she shivered. Winter still hung on in Baltimore, but what a strange winter it’d been—snow one day, mild the next. Tonight was brisk, but that only seemed to help cool off the annoyance burning her blood.
With her glass in her hands, she leaned on the railing and glanced over the city. Reed and Kole’s condo had an amazing view and the lights twinkled below.
She sipped at her drink and pondered her situation. How could she plan another fantasy when the only one she wanted she had yet to fully accept herself? And why was she acting like a bitter idiot?
After a long gulp that had her cringing from the aftertaste, a deep voice interrupted her useless thoughts. “I heard last night didn’t go well.”
She lowered the glass, licked the moisture on her lips, and looked next to her to find Kole. Like always in his presence, butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but she squashed them and kept her voice controlled. “That’s putting it lightly.”
His blond stylish hair framed a face worth a second look, and his dark blue eyes shone with a power that made her melt. He leaned against the railing beside her, cocked his head, and she felt the weight of his stare right down to her toes. “Tell me about it.”
She sipped her drink, mortified to her bones that she had to admit this to Kole. “It wasn’t Raven’s fault. I”—she drew in a deep breath and said quickly—“I always thought my fantasy was to be with a woman, but clearly it’s not.”
“Ah, I see.” He took a gulp of his beer before he lowered it. “You didn’t get off, I’m assuming?”
She snorted. “If laughing in her face means that I didn’t get off, then yes, I didn’t get off.”
He chuckled, the sound so seductive Bella quivered. In response to that odd reaction, she examined him and couldn’t stop from admiring the view.
He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans that no doubt hugged his fine ass, and a black T-shirt that was snug around the muscles beneath. Good God. She licked her lips for reasons that had nothing to do with her drink.
“You didn’t follow through with your part of the pact, then?”
Her gaze lifted to his face. The glint in his eyes declared he’d been quite aware of her admiring him. Hell, she’d lusted after him since the day they met. A strong sexual attraction existed between them that she hadn’t experienced before with any man, especially a Dom.
She blinked and focused away from the warmth that formed between her thighs. “That’s right. I bailed on the pact.”
His gaze became penetrating as his tone dipped lower. “Why don’t you arrange another night with someone else for your fantasy?”
“Because”—her muscles stiffened, and after a long sigh, she grimaced—“I have no idea what that fantasy is now.”
“Such a problem for a woman to have,” he mused.
She gulped at the way his voice seemed to carry into her soul; then she lowered her head to avoid eye contact with him. He raised his bottle to his mouth, and his arm brushed against hers. Tingles zinged through her, and she squeezed her thighs together to ease the throb of her clit.
How did he make her body do that? Every time he was near, she all but sizzled, and when he touched her, everything was amplified.
“I see that you need help, then, in finding what you’re looking for.”
It hadn’t sounded like a question, which she was glad for since her tight throat made it impossible to answer. He slid his finger along her arm, slowly and with clear intent to unravel her.
She bit her bottom lip. “W-what does that mean?”
He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her head. “I think we both know what I mean.” Those eyes of his burned with the lust that he had obviously contained. “You enjoy my attention, and I’d enjoy you under my command.”
Then he pressed a finger on the back of her hand and danced his touch up her arm. His gaze followed his caresses every step of the way. And damn him if she didn’t close her eyes and shudder.
A scrape of his nail along her skin drew her eyes open, and he grinned with sin. “Look how beautifully you react to me.” He finally reached her shoulder, and she trembled under the softness of his touch that seemed to contradict that power oozing from him. He tucked his fingers back under her chin, drew her head up, and stared intently into her eyes.
Searching for what, she had no idea.
His hold tensed, a shift in his gaze appeared that made her stomach flip-flop, and her panties were now soaked. He leaned in, pressed his lips against hers, and the world froze. His luscious and damn well perfect mouth molded with hers as his silky tongue swept her away. When had anyone ever kissed her like this?
Oh, right—never.
He kissed her thoroughly, leaving no part of her mouth untouched; then he backed away but kept hold of her chin. “It’s time to stop ignoring what your body needs and accept that you want to be dominated.”
Hell, how right was he? Maybe BDSM wasn’t her fantasy when she made the pact of seduction with her friends, but after hearing about it from Marley, her interest had grown. She lifted a lazy shoulder to appear nonchalant. “I suppose if I set up a scene with you, that would be a solution to my problem.”
“Not good enough.” His gaze hardened. “Do you want me to take you into a scene, Bella?”
At his pause, she realized she needed to give a better answer, and she nodded. “I do.”
He examined her for a long moment before he finally said, “Now what are your interests in BDSM?”
She melted at the way he stared at her now. So intense. So wicked. Was this a hint of what he’d look like in a scene? Her body flushed, yet she held her focus and lifted her chin. She had always prided herself on staying strong around powerful men.
Her job as a stockbroker in Baltimore’s top lending investment firm meant she swam with the sharks. Most of her coworkers were authoritative men. If she’d showed weakness, she wouldn’t be where she was today, and she’d worked hard for her position.
“I’m interested in”—her throat went dry. All these fantasies she hadn’t admitted to anyone. Was she really going through with this? Her soaking panties declared it so—“ropes, sex toys, floggers, to be controlled, pleasure, and pain.” She raised her glass to her mouth and tried to ignore the way her hands shook.
Before the rim could reach her lips, Kole snatched the glass from her hands and set it on the ground next to him. “If we’re discussing this and you are serious, you will stop drinking.”
A flare of irritation rose up that he’d be so bold to take her drink right out of her hands, yet Marley had said that Castle Dolce Vita Doms never allowed submissives to drink alcohol in a scene to ensure they were clearheaded. And since they were discussing what would happen between them, she let it go. “Okay.”
He gave a short nod. “Now I want to make sure you’re well aware of what will happen and what I expect of you.” His gaze searched hers, seemingly looking right through her. “And I need to be sure that I’m the correct Dom for you.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
His eyebrows rose. “I don’t mind your answer, Bella.” A small grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “But do tell—have you put more thought into this than you’re letting on?”
Her cheeks had never burned so hot, but she wouldn’t be that woman who’d stumble around a man. She stuffed her nervousness away, clasped her hands, and demanded her voice to be strong. “Maybe once or twice.”
She’d been aware of the mutual attraction between them, so two could play his game. “Are you trying to deny you haven’t thought about it too?”
He winked. “Maybe once or twice.”
A flutter whipped around inside her, her palms grew clammy, and she squeezed her fingers. Why did he make her act so…knocked off her axis?
“One thing that needs to be discussed is my expectations.” He glanced at her hands for a moment as if he took in her reaction before he looked back into her eyes. “From what I know of you as you are now, you’d struggle to meet them. And I want to make that clear so you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “Why would I struggle to meet your demands?”
He gave his head a slow shake. “I’m not saying it to insult you, but to give you a stern warning. I don’t play lightly.”
“Well, I…” Her entire face burned hot as if she had a high-grade fever. Marley had told her all about Kole. How he enjoyed pain play. How strict he was in how a submissive behaved. And all it’d done was increase the throb between her thighs. Solidified the fantasy. “I think I might like that.”
He gave a delicious smile. “I have no doubt you would.”
And then his lips were back on hers as he swept her away in another leg-wobbling kiss before those plush lips tore away from hers.
“You’ll arrive at the castle next Friday at seven o’clock. I’ll have a room reserved.” He dropped his head, his eyes in the direct line of hers. “When you arrive, remove your clothes, kneel in the center of the room, and wait for me. Clear?”
Heat spread across her body at the images playing in her head. Nude? Kneeling? Oh God! She quivered in anticipation.
At his expectant expression, she nodded instead of offering him a breathy response.
“Good.” He took her mouth again playfully, nibbled on the corners of her lips, and flicked her lips with his tongue. And when he had her body ramped up to a fever pitch, he backed away to trail his thumb over her lips. “Can you be honest and open with me?”
Drool, honest-to-God drool, formed in her mouth. Everyday Kole was sexy. Dom Kole was to die for. The sheer power that exuded from him, intensity in his features, it all captivated her. He’d asked her to be honest with him—how hard could that be? “I can do that.”
He nodded in approval, skimmed her mouth again with his thumb, while his gaze stayed focused there. The smile he gave, the possessiveness held in the depths of his eyes, liquefied her insides.
Something sparked through his touch, only increasing with his kiss, and even more so by the way he looked at her now. One of those duh moments. Had what she wanted—desired—been standing right in front of her this entire time?
In less than a week, she’d have the answer.

Book Review:

            I have to say that I never wanted to be part of the BSDM scene, yet I find these books so sexy.  I think that there is a part of everyone that wants to handled or dominated by someone else.  Now I don’t mean abused or even necessarily BSDM, I just think the idea (at least for a 5 foot 11 inch, large woman like myself) that someone could be in charge and physically take charge is kind of exciting.  I rarely feel like a delicate flower, the way these women seem to feel.

            Now that said, I think part of the draw that some people feel to the BSDM lifestyle is that it is controlled.  I read one book where the woman had been a victim of domestic violence and she explained how BSDM was different because everything was consensually contracted to ahead of time.

            I read book 1 in this series and it was hot.  Book 2 is even hotter.  This is not a book for the timid or sexually repressed.  This book is graphic, sensual, involved bondage, pain, and lots and lots of sex.  It also has an irrepressible story line about two people who struggle to define their relationship and find a fit that works for both of them.

            I give this book 4.5 out of 5 clouds and a chili pepper rating of 9, keep out of the reach of children, teens, and mother-in-laws… and keep that special someone close because they will definitely like how this book makes you feel. (wink)

This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.

Book Review of Spirits in the Trees


Book Review of Spirits in the Trees Sponsored by Bewitching Book Tours



Spirits in the Trees
by Morgan Hannah MacDonald

SOME FAMILY SECRETS ARE BETTER LEFT BURIED.

An abandoned house, a psychotic killer, and a victim reaching out from the grave. A woman must unearth deadly family secrets before she becomes a ghost herself.

Madeline Anderson goes to Isabelle Island, Washington, to sell a family home abandoned over forty years before. Bizarre things occur the moment she steps on the property. Inside the dilapidated old house, items move about of their own accord. Strange noises come from empty rooms. She has a vivid, recurring dream of a woman running for her life. The wind rustling through the trees sounds like urgent, murmuring voices. When the cacophony dies down, one single word emerges:

MADELINE, MADELINE, MADELINE.  

At first, Doug Lindstrom, the hot fireman helping Maddy restore the old home, doesn't believe anything is going on. He’s certain Maddy is jumping at shadows because she heard the local kids call the house haunted. That is, until he witnesses horrific violence himself that he can't explain away. After Maddy’s life is threatened not once, but twice, Doug vows there will not be a third time.

EVIL DOES EXIST.

While searching for answers, Maddy uncovers astonishing secrets about her aunt's past. Finding more questions than answers, she digs deeper until she stumbles across evidence of a cold case involving a serial killer nicknamed The Seaside Strangler. Together, Doug and Maddy must unmask a killer. The lives they save just might be their own.

WARNING: This book contains mild language, explicit sex and graphic violence.

About the Author


Morgan Hannah MacDonald writes Romantic Thrillers that are NOT for the faint of heart. She has always been interested in writing and serial killers, but it wasn’t until she found she had dated one herself that a true writer was born. She belongs to Romance Writers of America, the San Diego Chapter, as well as the Kiss of Death Chapter. She resides in San Diego, California where she is busy working on her next novel.  

She can be found at 


Excerpt:

     “And your brilliant idea would be?” Maddy asked, smiling.
     Angie got off the floor, sat on the ottoman across from her and leaned over clasping her hands. “We’re going to have a séance, ask the spirits why they’re here.”
     Maddy jerked her hands back. “No way, you have no idea how scary this is. Believe me.”
     “Exactly. I’ve always wanted to see a ghost, now here’s my chance!” Angie tried to grab her hands again, but Maddy held them out of her reach.
     “No, you don’t understand, this is not a game.”
     “Don’t be silly, I’ve seen this done on TV hundreds of times.”
     “This could be dangerous, something could go wrong. When I was a kid I remember hearing stories of people conjuring up ghosts with the Ouija board. Ghosts that killed and maimed!”
     “Those are just urban legends. Besides, we already have the ghosts, and we’re not using a Ouija board.” Insistently she shook her open hands at Maddy and waited for her to comply.
     Maddy stared at her new friend a moment. “I don’t know, Ang, what did you say about malevolent beings?”
     “Those are rare. Besides, if you had one of those, you would be dead already. Now shush and give me your hands.”
     “Great, I feel so much better.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Reluctantly Maddy relinquished her hands.
     “Okay, close your eyes and I’ll do the rest.”
     Angie was quiet a moment, then said, “We are addressing the spirits that live in this house, tell us why you are here.”
     The women sat in silence, waiting.
     Maddy squinted with one eye. “It’s not working, maybe we should give up.” She pulled her hands back.
     “Shh!” Angie opened her eyes and snatched Maddy’s hands back impatiently. “We are addressing the spirits that live in this house. Show us a sign!” Angie  spoke a little louder this time.
     Again, nothing. The women sat in silence looking around the room, then at each other.
     Suddenly the fire in the hearth flared up twice its size, reaching out toward them, knocking the screen down with its force. They screamed and jumped out of the way. A door slammed upstairs, then another. Doors all over the house slammed one at a time.
     Maddy swallowed hard. “Ang,” she whispered.
     “Shh,” When all was silent again, Angie yelled at the ceiling. “Tell us why you are here?”
     “Angie, please. Don’t make them mad!”  Maddy pleaded in a hushed tone while she held tight to her friend’s arm.
     “It’s okay. They’re just acknowledging our presence.” Angie assured her, patting her hand.
     A crash came from behind.
     They spun around.
     A lamp from the end table smashed against the opposite wall.
     Maddy gasped.
     Out of nowhere, a book flew toward Angie, she ducked just in time. 
     Maddy screamed, her head jerked backward.
     “What?” Angie turned in time to see Maddy’s hair floating in the air.
     “Someone just yanked my hair, hard!”  Maddy answered rubbing the back of her head.

Book Review:

            So the whole time I’m reading this I’m waiting for the little girl from the Poltergeist movies to say “He’s here!” and her head to spin around.  Maddie is mourning to the extent that she cannot even get out of bed on some days… then she finds out about the last life of her favorite aunt (and by  past life I mean before Maddie was born, when the aunt was younger, not lived in a different lifetime).  Finding this house gives Maddie new purpose, and the hunk next door helps too.  But the house isn’t quite what it seems.

            I had never heard of the horror romance genre before I read this book, but I love it.  Totally romantic, totally creepy … totally fun.  The creepy horror air lends a new level of intensity tot the charming romance.

            I give this author 5 out of 5 clouds.  Loved it.


This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.

Book Promotional for Redemption


Book Promotional for Redemption Sponsored by Bewitching Book Tours



REDEMPTION
Book One Penton Legacy series
By Susannah Sandlin

Following a worldwide pandemic whose vaccine left human blood deadly to vampires, the vampire community is on the verge of starvation and panic. Some have fanned into rural areas, where the vaccine was less prevalent, and are taking unsuspecting humans as blood slaves. Others are simply starving, which for a vampire is worse than death—a raging hunger in a creature too weak to feed.

Immune to these struggles—at first—is Penton, a tiny community in rural Chambers County, Alabama, an abandoned cotton mill town that has been repopulated by charismatic vampire Aidan Murphy, his scathe of 50 vampires, and their willingly bonded humans. Aidan has recruited his people carefully, believing in a peaceful community where the humans are respected and the vampires retain a bit of their humanity.

But an unresolved family feud and the paranoia of the Vampire Tribunal descend on Penton in the form of Aidan’s brother, Owen Murphy. Owen has been issued a death warrant that can only be commuted if he destroys Penton—and Aidan, against whom he’s held a grudge since both were turned vampire in 17th-century Ireland.  Owen begins a systematic attack on the town, first killing its doctor, then attacking one of Aidan’s own human familiars

To protect his people, Aidan is forced to go against his principles and kidnap an unvaccinated human doctor—and finds himself falling in love for the first time since the death of his wife in Ireland centuries ago. 

Dr. Krystal Harris, forced into a world she never knew existed, must face up to her own abusive past to learn if the feelings she’s developing for her kidnapper are real—or just a warped, supernatural kind of Stockholm Syndrome in which she’s allowing herself to become a victim yet again.

Susannah Sandlin’s REDEMPTION is the first in the Penton Legacy series. Book two, ABSOLUTION, will be out September 18, and book three, OMEGA, on December 18.


About the Author:

Susannah Sandlin is the author of paranormal romance set in the Deep South, where there are always things that go bump in the night! A journalist by day, Susannah grew up in Alabama reading the gothic novels of Susan Howatch, and always fancied herself living in Cornwall (although she’s never actually been there). Details, details. She also is a fan of Stephen King. The combination of Howatch and King probably explains a lot. Currently a resident of Auburn, Alabama, Susannah has also lived in Illinois, Texas, California, and Louisiana. Her novel Redemption won the paranormal romance category in the 2011 Chicago North RWA Fire and Ice contest, and is the first of three in a series that debuts this year.


Excerpt:

Krystal Harris pulled to the shoulder of the two-lane road—highway was too grand a word—and punched the button to turn on the old green Corolla’s dome light. She counted to five before thwacking it with the heel of her palm, and a dim light blinked as if considering her demand. It stayed on—this time.
                The car was a dinosaur, but it was a paid-for dinosaur.
                She dug a folded Alabama road map from beneath her briefcase on the passenger seat, smoothing the creases to make sure she hadn’t driven past Penton, which she suspected was no more than a wide spot on a narrow road. She didn’t want to get lost out here in the boonies.
                Yep, County Road 70. The highway to Penton just looked like the express lane to nowhere.
                A gust of wind rocked the car, sending icy air around the loose door seals. Maybe the chill of this night was an omen that she should take this job if they offered it, just so she could buy a more respectable form of transportation. Still, doubts nagged at her. What kind of clinic conducted a job interview at nine p.m.? She should never have agreed to it, but the Penton Clinic administrator had waved big bucks in front of her huge college and med school debts, and she’d trotted after them like a donkey after a carrot.
                “You had the goody-two-shoes idea of practicing rural medicine, plus you’re already here,” she chided herself, clicking off the overhead and pulling back onto the road. “And you’ve gotta admit, this is rural.”
                Another omen, and not a good one: she was talking to herself. Out loud.
                A couple of miles later, her headlights illuminated a battered wooden sign covered in peeling paint: Welcome to Penton, Alabama. Founded 1890. Population 3,275.
                Twenty years ago, maybe.  Krys had done her Penton homework, and that was the boomtown population, when the mammoth East Alabama Mill still churned out threads and batting. It had wheezed its final belch a decade ago, and the town had suffered a slow death by attrition even before the pandemic. The most recent listing Krys found online estimated a population of three hundred. She was surprised they could afford to hire a doctor, much less pay a more-than-competitive wage.
                But this was what she wanted, right? A place to practice medicine and be her own boss, to find a community where she could belong? After growing up in Birmingham—the wrong side of Birmingham—she hated the grime and crowds and noise of the city.
                Lost in thought as she approached the outskirts of town, she thought she saw an animal in the road—a deer or a bear, maybe—God only knew what wildlife lived out here. But it was a man. He wore a long coat that flapped in the wind and was backlit by a lone streetlight in front of an abandoned convenience store. She’d have blown past him if he hadn’t moved into the middle of the road when the glare of her headlights hit him like a spotlight.
                He stood with his hands in his pockets, feet planted apart, watching calmly as she floored the brakes. The Corolla’s old tires squealed, stinking up the air with the smell of hot rubber and stressed brakes.
                Good Lord. Was he nuts?
                She got the car stopped and took a deep breath, hands frozen to the wheel, her muscles jittery from the aftershock. The man walked around and tapped on her driver’s side window, motioning for her to lower it.
                Krys’s foot hovered over the accelerator, indecisive. Should she drive on and get the hell out of here?
                No, by God, she should not. She’d at least lower the window enough to tell the jerk how close he’d come to ending his life as a hood ornament on a green Toyota Dinosaur.
                He held up his empty hands in a gesture of peace. Right. Like he was going to hold up a sign that said Beware of Murderous Backwoods Whack Job.
                She snaked her right hand to her purse in the passenger seat, wrapped cold fingers around the handle of a small pistol, and slipped it into the pocket of her suede jacket—after she was sure the man had seen it. The .38 Smith & Wesson snub-nose was her security blanket, and she knew how to use it.
                His only reaction to the gun was a raised eyebrow. “I have a man injured here.” His voice was deep and melodic, and he had a trace of an accent, as if he’d grown up not speaking English but had been around a few too many Southerners. “You the doctor coming to Penton for the interview?”
                She lowered her window an inch and stared as he knelt next to the driver’s side door, putting his face at eye level. And damned if it wasn’t one of the most beautiful faces she’d seen since…maybe ever.
                He’d pulled his dark hair into a short ponytail except for one wavy strand that had pulled loose and blew against his cheek. The streetlight cast enough illumination for her to see the dark lashes fringing blue eyes that reminded her not so much of summer skies or robin’s eggs but of the richness of an arctic sea flowing over darker depths. They appeared to lighten as he studied her with an intensity that almost robbed her lungs of air. He had a strong jaw, full lips, and a slight cleft in his chin.
                If he was a serial killer, he was at least a pretty one.
                He cleared his throat. “Are you Dr. Harris?”
                Krys caught her breath. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? She’d been practically drooling through a half-open window as though he were Adonis personified. He could be Charles Manson’s separated-at-birth, unidentical twin.
                Except he knew her name.


This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.
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Friday, July 27, 2012

Book Review of The Alchemical Detective


Book Review of The Alchemical Detective




The Alchemical Detective
By Kirsten Weiss
Book Two in the Riga Hayworth Series

Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Date of Publication: May 31, 2012
ISBN:  978-0-9855103-1-2
ASIN: B0085XCDL8

Number of pages: 289
Word Count: 75,000

Purchase Links:  Kindle

Book Description

A psychic has been murdered in an occult ceremony and the police pay a visit to Riga Hayworth, metaphysical detective.  But this time, she’s not a consultant on the case, she’s a suspect.
There’s a storm on the horizon.  Riga’s lost her magic, and has come to Lake Tahoe to recover and spend quality time with her new love.  But life for Riga is never that simple.  A psychic’s been murdered, and the police believe Riga has a connection to the crime.  They’re right.  And if that’s not enough, Riga is drafted as the host of a reality TV show about the local lake monster, and her niece is rejecting her metaphysical abilities.  Juggling demons, daimons, and angry tarot card readers, Riga must catch a killer before she becomes the next target.
The Alchemical Detective is a paranormal mystery that explores a world of alchemy and the imagination.

Author Bio:
Kirsten Weiss is the author of two paranormal mysteries available on the Kindle: the urban fantasy, The Metaphysical Detective, and The Alchemical Detective.  She is hard at work on the sequel, The Shamanic Detective. 
Kirsten worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and deep in the Afghan war zone.  Her experiences abroad not only gave her glimpses into the darker side of human nature, but also sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.
Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem.
Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching True Blood and drinking good wine. 
Follow her on Twitter at https://twitter.com/#!/RigaHayworth, view her world boards on Pinterest http://pinterest.com/kirstenweiss/or check out her blog at http://kirstenweiss.com

Author site/blog:  http://kirstenweiss.com





Short Excerpt:

The egg quivered, then rolled, seemingly of its own accord, to the edge of the counter. 
Riga stared at it, her violet-colored eyes narrowed in concentration.  Magic, she reminded herself, was a matter of will and she had that in spades.  However, it was also a matter of focus and in this area, she was lacking.
The egg trembled, then slowly rose into the air; one inch, two inches, five.
“Yes,” Brigitte said encouragingly, her voice a French-accented Lauren Bacall.  Her stone claws tensed, gouging tracks in the linoleum countertop.
The egg exploded, splattering the gargoyle with shell and yolk. 
Brigitte shrieked, the sound of rocks scraping against each together.  “Faugh!  Water!  Bring ze water!” 
Riga hurried to the sink and turned on the tap, frustration wrinkling her brow.  She grabbed a dishtowel and soaked it in warm water.  Her hands trembled and Riga swore under her breath.  Two months ago, this would have been easy. 
At first she’d thought her magic was gone.  Now Riga knew it had gone haywire and her rehab attempts weren’t working.  If anything, her magic had become more unpredictable, more dangerous.  She only dared practice with Brigitte because the centuries-old gargoyle was made of stone.  But even Brigitte wasn’t indestructible. 
Someone beat upon the front door and Riga whipped around, startled.  She should have sensed whoever was coming up the steps.  Another small failure.  More pounding; the cheap wooden door vibrated beneath the blows.
“Police!  Open the door!”
Gargoyle and woman looked at each other.  Woman acted first.  Riga tossed the towel in the sink.  “Don’t move,” she said to Brigitte.
“But ze egg.  It dries like cement,” Brigitte wailed.
“Later.”  Riga hurried to the door and flung it open.  A chilly blast of pine-scented air swept inside, tossing Riga’s auburn hair and stinging her skin. 
Two sheriffs stood before her in wide brimmed hats and heavy dark brown parkas.  Riga might have taken them for rangers had it not been for their belts, strapped with weapons, slung low on their hips.  The older one had his fist raised for another round of door pummeling.  He lowered it with what looked like regret.  He was bulky, bearlike, with steel blue eyes, and she imagined he enjoyed making the door shiver beneath his fist.  The tag under his badge read: Sheriff John King.  The badge itself: El Dorado County.
“I heard a woman scream,” King said. 
“I banged my shin on the coffee table,” Riga said. 
“Are you alone?”  He peered over Riga’s shoulder.  It wasn’t hard – Riga was five foot six, and he stood well over six feet tall, imposing in every direction. 
“Yes.  Can I help you?”  Riga didn’t budge, unwilling to let them in.  It wasn’t that Riga didn’t like cops; she was friends with plenty of them, when they were out of uniform. 
“It was quite a scream,” he said.
She quirked her lips.  “Now you’re just embarrassing me.” 
The Sheriff looked at her.  She returned his gaze.  The silence stretched between them. 
The Deputy coughed.  “Are you Ms. Hayworth?” he asked.  Riga figured him for his early thirties, which meant she had a decade on him.   He was well built, and between the startling pale blue of his eyes and the chiseled planes of his face, would have looked at home on a magazine cover.  But Riga’s gaze was drawn to the Sheriff.  The Deputy had youth, the Sheriff had presence.
“I’m Riga Hayworth.”
“My name is Night, Deputy Night.  May we come in?  Please?”  He smiled ruefully, exposing dimples and gleaming white teeth.  “It’s kind of cold out here.”
Riga hesitated.  But she wasn’t wearing a coat and was freezing in the doorway.  She could feel the heat from the cabin oozing past her, out the door.  “Okay.”  Reluctantly, she stepped back, and allowed them past her.
Hands resting on the butts of their guns, they prowled the room as if they owned the place.  They could have it, for all Riga cared.   It was one of the lower-end tourist cabins, crammed with a mis-matched jumble of seventies era furniture.  A giant picture window looked out upon a forest scene:  pines, and patches of snow wetting the ground.  The afternoon sun slanted low in the sky, sending beams of light glittering through damp tree branches. 
 Brigitte, still covered in egg, had shifted to face the cabin’s small living room.  The deputy stared at the gargoyle, walked to Brigitte, and ran his hands across her stony feathers as if in a caress.  Brigitte would love that, Riga thought. 
“Cool harpy,” he said.  “Where’d you find it?”
“Garage sale.”
Night tucked his hat under one arm, and ruffled his blond hair with his free hand.  “Do you know it’s got egg on it?”
“Forget the statue,” the Sheriff barked.  Turning, he stumbled over a cheap American-Indian themed rug.  “Miss Hayworth, may we sit down?”
She indicated the lumpy sofa, a cruel gesture given the state of its springs, but she didn’t want them to linger.

Further reviews scheduled
July 27 Interview
On the Broomstick

July 27 Review
Books, Books, and More Books

July 28 Interview
Read 2 Review

July 28 Guest blog

July 29 promo
Fall Into Books –

July 30 Interview
Fang-tastic Books

July 31 Promo
A Dream Within A Dream

August 1 Promo
Roxanne’s Realm

Aug 2 Promo
Mama Knows Books

Aug 2 Promo
whoopeeyoo :D

Aug 3 Guest blog
Bookgirl Knitting

Book Review:

I want my own gargoyle.  How cool would that be?  Riga, heroine in this book, has one.  She is a metaphysical detective who has lost her magic and is a suspect in a murder investigation.  Okay, so it would suck to have all those other issues, but having your own living, breathing, walking around gargoyle would still be cool.

This book combines some of my favorite paranormal concepts.  It is definitely worth reading.  I give this book 4 out of 5 clouds.

This product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my opinions or reviews.