Category / Review

by mvbookreviewer

Review: Warrior by Kristina Douglas

Format: E-bookwarrrior
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Series: The Fallen, #3
Publisher: Pocket Books
Hero: Michael Angelo
Heroine: Victoria Bellona
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: April 24, 2012
Started On: January 24, 2015
Finished On: February 8, 2015

He wanted her. Needed her.
He wouldn’t take her.

Warrior by Kristina Douglas is the third book in the Fallen series. Warrior tells the story of Michael Angelo, the angel that has honed himself into a lethal fighting machine. It has been two centuries since Michael had last taken a mate and Michael has no intention of taking one until fate brings to his life Victoria Bellona, the Roman Goddess of War.

Victoria doesn’t believe in the fact that she is a goddess of anything, much less a Goddess of War. However, it is undeniable that her childhood up till now had prepared her in the art of fighting and she aims to fight dirty to gain her freedom from the life she has been subjected to, until she finds herself married off to Michael, a man whose very presence makes Victoria forget herself, until she learns that Michael is one of the Fallen and has no intention of ever truly making her his.

Michael fights a losing battle when it comes to Victoria. Michael’s honorable intentions take a hard hit when it comes to her. When Michael is forced to go after Victoria, all bets are off when both Victoria and Michael finally give in to the hunger that courses through them every second that they are together.

With every searing kiss and scorching touch, Michael knows that there would be no turning back for him when it comes to Victoria. But the Fallen’s number one enemy is still eager as ever to break them up, make them all bow down to him and in the process, destroy what they’ve built millenniums ago. Will Victoria make a difference or will she be the one that helps their enemy finally and once and for all bring them down?

Though not as good as the first two books in the series, it is hard to remain detached from a tale spun by Anne Stuart. She brings the variety of wicked humor and nerve tingling passion alive in her books that are hard to forget. Michael and Victoria, though at the surface might seem like they don’t want anything to do with each other, fights an attraction that burns through their blood, a calling that runs through their soul for each to claim the other. Half the fun lay in Michael trying to resist Victoria and the passion that ignited when he finally succumbed to the inevitability of it all.

Recommended.

Final Verdict: A grumpy & reluctant angel finds his match in the brave goddess of war that entices him unlike any other.

Favorite Quotes

He stood at one end, his face cool and impassive. Such an arresting face on the man. Angel. Whatever he was. Exquisitely beautiful. Exquisitely cold.
In the bright sunlight I could see him clearly for the first time. He was wearing white as all the others were, a loose open shirt, though he’d rolled up the sleeves, as if even a so-called wedding required hard work. I looked at his strong forearms, and for the first time I noticed tattoos snaking their way up beneath the white cloth. The shirt was loose at the neck as well, and there were more markings on his chest, his throat, twining around to the back of his head, markings I hadn’t seen before. I halted, momentarily fascinated, and then Allie caught my arm and gently urged me forward.

She must have heard him come in. She rose on one elbow, looking at him, and the sheet fell away, exposing one small, perfect breast. And he needed to suck at it, to slide his hand between her legs and feel the wetness of her desire. He’d tried everything he could to fight this.
For the first time in his limitless existence, he had lost a battle.

“You’re not paying a debt,” he said. “Are you?”
She hesitated. “No,” she said, and leaned back against the pillow. “And you aren’t doing your duty, are you?”
“No.” He knelt on the bed, straddling her carefully. There was barely enough room for the two of them. It didn’t matter. They were going to be so close they wouldn’t need extra space. “No,” he said again, moving between her legs, lifting them. He took her mouth, her sweet, inexperienced mouth, with his, and then simply pushed inside her, hard, knowing she’d be wet and ready for him.

He pulled out almost completely, and she let out a cry of loss. He slid his hand down her stomach to her clitoris, touching her as he suddenly slammed into her, and she shattered, her body clamping around him. She shrieked against his shoulder, in shock, in pleasure, her fingers digging into him so tightly he would have thought she’d draw blood. That was another arousal, and he thrust, again and again, hard, riding her orgasm, prolonging it, and when she finally fell back, limp, he let himself go, releasing his seed into her, filling her, his head dropping to the pillow beside her as his wings unfurled to lock around them, cradling them in softness.

Darkness. Thick, enveloping darkness, with his strong body surrounding me, his hot, wet mouth on mine. All arguments fled. I wanted this. Needed this. Ever since I’d left his bed, a part of me had been missing, and now it was found again. He had come for me. And I was his.
His tongue slid into my mouth, and I felt unaccountably shy even after last night, but it didn’t seem to matter. When I tentatively moved my tongue against his, he let out a low growl of unmistakable approval, and I wanted to get closer. I wanted him inside me again, I wanted to take his cock into my mouth the way they did in the books I’d read. I wanted everything.

So many contrasting emotions were flooding me that I felt dizzy. Lust and irritation went without saying. But . . . he’d come for me. He’d died for me. He had my blood inside him, making him strong. He had me inside him.
And in willingly giving him my blood, my life force, I was afraid I’d given him more than that. I had given him love.

He shook me again, gripping my wrists so tightly that my hands were growing numb. “Had enough?” he demanded furiously.
“Not even close,” I snapped back.
And then we both froze. He looked down at me, bafflement and rage fading from his face. His mouth was bleeding. “Oh, shit,” he said.
He released my wrists. I didn’t know if he was going to try to pull away, but I wasn’t going to give him that chance.
“Oh, shit, indeed,” I said, my eyes daring him.
His mouth on mine was hard and angry, and I could taste his blood. It should have horrified me. It didn’t.

I shattered, letting out a low, keening wail, and he caught the cry from my mouth, drinking it in. Distantly I heard the clang of his belt buckle and the rasp of his zipper, and then he was inside me, sliding deep, pulling my legs around his narrow hips. I was already wet, aroused, my body accepting, and I clung to him, shocked. I felt like a boat on a stormy ocean, adrift in a tempest of sensation so powerful I could focus only on his body and what it was doing to mine.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | eBookMall | iTunes | ARe
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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Demon by Kristina Douglas

Format: E-bookdemon
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Series: The Fallen, #2
Publisher: Pocket Books
Hero: Azazel
Heroine: Rachel Fitzpatrick
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: May 31, 2011
Started On: December 11, 2014
Finished On: December 12, 2014

“Who is Sarah?” […]
“My wife,” he said. “She died seven years ago. And I will not replace her with you.”

What happens when you find a series that just begs to be read? On top of that, what happens when it is written by an author who always delivers, even in her not so stellar stories? Well, that is what has happened in the case of The Fallen series written by Kristina Douglas aka Anne Stuart. I finished reading Raziel, the first book in the series just two days back. Being the fan that I am, and given the intriguing ending to Raziel, I just couldn’t help myself but quickly pick up the second book to read.

In Raziel, the first book, we meet Azazel, the Alpha of The Fallen, who has acted as their leader for eons. Giving the secret behind Azazel’s leaving would be spoiling it for readers who are interested so I will just say that it is heartbreaking what happens to Azazel, who leaves Sheol, the hidden realm on Earth in which the fallen angels reside. Anger and fear drives Azazel to seek out the female demon Lilith, who is rumored to be all things evil. Azazel’s fear stems from a prophecy as old as time itself, and he knows that the only way to prevent that from coming true would be to kill Rachel Fitzpatrick.

Rachel is a woman who leads a life even that she can’t remember much. There are echoes of memories that linger around in her mind. She doesn’t tend to stay around one place for long, some age old instinct driving her to run when the time comes. When Rachel finds herself face to face with Azazel who has the weirdest theory about who she is, and wanting to kill her, none other than Rachel is more surprised by the fact that she wants the man whose cold eyes speak of an intention to end her life.

Azazel would be kidding himself if he were to think that he is immune to Rachel. Though she hides behind baggy clothes and assumes a nonthreatening posture, the lure that she presents to mankind itself is one that even Azazel is not immune from. That doesn’t mean that he gives in from the moment he lays eyes on her. Rather he fights and fights dirty to keep her at bay, going as far as to betray her in a way that would have been hard to pull off if not for a writer of Anne Stuart’s caliber.

Mark my words, Azazel is ruthless. Ruthless in a way that some readers might not appreciate. But I think Demon is a perfect portrayal of his character the way the author intended him to be. I hate books where at the beginning of a series, a particular character is portrayed as this tortured and ruthless man that would be hard to take in, but oh so good when all is said and done. And then when his book arrives, from the minute his intended show up, he loses every single character that defines who he is. That is not realistic in my opinion and it cheats the readers out of a lot of anticipation they have been storing up for that particular character. Which is why I love Kristina Douglas aka Anne Stuart. She has no problem with delivering her characters as they are. And she ends up doing quite a fantastic job out of the storytelling with them.

Though I fell in love with Raziel’s story a tad more than I did for Azazel’s, Demon nevertheless is a book not to be missed. It has got a story that you’d either love or hate; there is no in between. Once again, combining first person point of view with view points from other characters in the story in third person, if every story written in first person were to be like this, I definitely wouldn’t have a problem! Recommended!

Final Verdict: Lust, redemption, betrayal and love; Kristina Douglas definitely delivers!

Favorite Quotes

“You are everything that is evil. I should have left you to the Nephilim.”
[..]
“Why didn’t you?” My voice was almost a whisper, as if I knew what he was going to do and I was afraid to startle him. Distract him. Stop him. I knew what he wanted, and God help me, I wanted it too.
His deep-blue eyes were shadowed, and I thought I could see a streak of blood on his mouth. Whose blood? “Because I am a fool and a half,” he whispered as well, the night air all around us. “Because I know who and what you are, and I want you anyway.”
And he kissed me. His mouth was rough, pushing mine open as his hard body pressed me back against the car, and I felt heat, desire, sweep through me, not knowing if it was his or mine.

I kept my mouth shut, wondering whether I could bite him hard enough to draw blood, wondering why my breath was coming fast and my heart was racing. It wasn’t fear. I’d told the truth—I was no longer afraid of him. I remembered his kiss from the dockside, the rush of desire that had suffused my body.
As it did now. My pulse raced, my skin heated; I was wet and ready. I thought, Fuck it, and opened my mouth for him, taking the sweet invasion of his tongue with a shock of pleasure, and I knew I’d been waiting for this, longing for this without knowing it. Longing for him, my enemy.

He brought his hands up to cradle my head, as impossibly the kiss deepened, and I wanted my clothes off—now. I wanted to strip him naked and feel him inside of me, pulsing and thrusting. I could sense it, anticipate it, feel the thick push of him, and I cried out against his mouth as a small climax startled me.

I felt his teeth then, a small bite against my skin, barely painful, and my muffled arousal was suddenly full-force, sweeping over my body. I put my hands on him, on his damp, silky hair, pressing him against me. The room wasn’t dark the way I wanted, but it didn’t matter. It was all right to want him, all right to feel overwhelming desire. There were no witnesses, and he didn’t care what I was feeling. We were doing this, it was out of my control, and his mouth was wonderful against me.

“Oh, God,” I whispered as he licked me gently, carefully, teasing me until I wanted to scream at him. And then his mouth fastened on me with such deep, drawing hunger that I felt a hot spasm between my legs and, straddling him, pressed my naked body against his. He hadn’t lied. He was most definitely aroused, and I rocked against him instinctively, feeling him against my sensitive flesh.

I looked down between us, at the joining. I could see my nipples, tight and hard. See him buried inside me as I felt my body grow accustomed to his. He hadn’t moved, and slowly I raised my eyes to look at him.
For a moment we simply stared at each other, frozen in time, his eyes and mine, more powerfully intimate than the joining between our legs. “Move,” he said, his voice raw.

I dug my fingers into his shoulders, wanting to get away, but he wouldn’t let me. “Do not fight it,” he whispered. “Embrace it.” He slid his hand down my stomach, touching where we joined, and a jolt of reaction swept through me.
I heard my own muffled cry, and he surged up into me again, and again, and he touched me once more, hard, and his voice was a growl.
“Come,” he said. And I did.

Pulling the long skirt up, exposing my legs in the stormy afternoon, so that I felt the rain pelting against them, and I knew I should care whether someone was watching. I did care, just not enough. Not even when he reached for my panties and with one rough yank tore them off.
He put one hand under my butt, lifting me up, pressing me back against the door, and I heard the rasp of his zipper, his muttered curse as he freed himself, and then he pushed inside me, not waiting to see if I was ready for him.
I was. More than ready.

His hands were on my bare thighs, holding me up, and he pushed into me again and again. I could hear the wet slap of our joining, and it was another jolt of dark pleasure. He kissed me, hard, and I could taste blood, his or mine or both, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t get enough of me and I couldn’t get enough of him.

One more crash of lightning, and the sky opened in a deluge. He slammed back into me, and I went over the edge as I felt him jerk and pulse into me. I have no idea why I did it, only knew that I needed to; my mouth opened, and my teeth sank into his strong, powerful throat, breaking the skin, tasting the rich sweetness of his blood.
I heard his deep groan, felt him swell inside me, and then nothing more as sheer sensation washed over me. I shook, convulsing, lost in a place that terrified me, with only his arms and his body supporting me as I flew.

His hands slid down, covering them, and I cried out with the sensation, a raw, rough sound, and then I made no sound at all as his mouth closed over one taut nipple, drawing it in tightly, his tongue dancing across the beaded top as he sucked, and I wondered if I could come simply from his mouth at my breast. And then I remembered his hoarse, one-word command, “Come,” and my body went rigid as a small climax caught me.

The pull of his mouth at my neck, sucking, drinking, lost in my taste, the sweet hot rush as he filled me were too much. I was dying, and I didn’t care. We would die together, destroyed by a desire that was elementally wrong; they had warned us, and neither of us had cared. I was dying, and I was in his arms, and that was all that mattered.
There were feathers, feathers closing around me, soft and blessed, drawing in the darkness, and as I tumbled back to earth I let myself rest in their gentleness, at peace.

His hands slid down to cover my breasts, his fingers plucking my nipples, and the banked fire roared to life again. I pressed my butt against him, rubbing, and his sudden growl was pure animal need. Something that vibrated within me as well. I turned in his arms, and he kissed me, his mouth still tasting of the salt water, and I wanted to drink him in. Wanted to suck at him, as he had sucked at me, and I knew what I was going to do.
“Oh, God,” he muttered weakly, and I remembered he could read my thoughts. My body heated with a rush of embarrassment, but he only laughed, low in his throat, and shoved the covers off me.

“I want …” she whispered in that lost, broken voice that filled him with shame and sorrow, “… I want to change positions.”
He managed a crooked smile. “Of course,” he said, starting to turn and pull her on top; but she resisted, pushing at him.
“No,” she said. “There’s another way.”
He held very still. “There are many other ways,” he said finally, his own voice sounding as damaged as hers.
“I … I …” Embarrassment colored her voice, and he knew she couldn’t find the words.
“You want me to guess?” he said with strangled amusement.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Raziel by Kristina Douglas

Format: E-bookraziel
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Series: The Fallen, #1
Publisher: Pocket Books
Hero: Raziel
Heroine: Allegra Watson
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: January 25, 2011
Started On: December 1, 2014
Finished On: December 10, 2014

Kristina Douglas is Anne Stuart writing paranormal fantasy genre. And whichever genre that Anne Stuart chooses to write, and if there is romance in it, its definitely a reason to pick it up. I’ve been meaning to give this series a go and finally managed to do so and ended up getting wowed beyond my wildest imaginations.

The Fallen series is focused on the concept of the fallen angels that is believed by Jews and Christians. Though I found reading about fallen angels which is not something we believe in Islam a bit unsettling at the beginning, I just set aside my misgivings and gave up to the heady ride Kristina Douglas delivered with Raziel, the debut book in the series.

Allegra Watson (Allie), a biblical murder mystery writer finds herself meeting her death, escorted by the most beautiful male specimen that she has laid her eyes on to her intended destination. Raziel and the other fallen angels lead a seemingly endless life, a life includes ferrying souls to either Hell or Paradise at the behest of Uriel, the archangel. Though Raziel has never had any problems with any of the people that he has transported for centuries, he finds that when the time of reckoning comes, he is unable to send Allegra on her way.

Allie finds herself in the most bizarre of circumstances with Raziel, a man who infuriates her, astounds her and electrifies her with the need that pulses through her every time he is around. Bound to each other by something that neither of them wants to acknowledge, Allie’s arrival to Sheol, the hidden world in which the fallen reside is not a welcome one for many. With danger looming closer than ever, Allie finds herself entirely captivated by Raziel and what he does to  her heart, mind, body and soul. With surprising twists to the story, Ms. Douglas manages to deliver a story that is unputdownable at best!

The power that Anne Stuart holds over her readers is legendary. With contemporary romances and romantic suspense, she continues to push the comfort zone of many a reader and publisher too if her writing history is anything to judge that fact by and under the pseudonym of Kristina Douglas, Anne Stuart practically eviscerates every preconceived notion of how the fantasy genre ought to be written. She smashes through the walls and leaves utter destruction of the kind you love to indulge in and I as a reader couldn’t have asked for more!

Allie whose name Allegra Watson made me snicker a bit to myself (Allegra = an antihistamine + Watson = a personal care store in Malaysia), fits the mold of heroines that Anne Stuart is famous for writing. Definitely not of the doormat variety, Allie continues to push at Raziel’s carefully laid out world of black and white, splashing it with beautiful, bold and vivid colors while Raziel continues to fool himself into thinking he is man enough to resist her charms. Snarky with a heart of gold, Allie was a heroine I definitely fell in love with and rooted for in the biggest way possible.

Raziel is one of the oldest of the fallen angels and pretty set in his ways. Raziel had sworn off women and the concept of finding a mate to share his life with because of the pain it brings to the heart to lose the one you love. While the fallen are subjected to live their life for eternity, their mates aren’t magically given the same “gift” and thus Raziel’s conviction that he is better off with just relying on his hand for company. But with the arrival of Allie into his life, Raziel knows in his heart that his days as a loner are numbered and that before she is through, she would end up blowing his heart into smithereens if he is not careful.

Raziel as a hero is beyond sexy, the kind of man that Anne Stuart so boldly brings to life time and yet again. Given the fact that this is fantasy, Anne’s creation goes a step further and delivers a mouthwatering version of the alpha male, Raziel is practically good enough to eat! His wings, oh man, those are a sight to behold and yes, you have to read the book to understand the full impact of Raziel.

This book is written in first person, from both Raziel and Allie’s points of view. The fact that I forgot to even complain about it when I initially wrote the review explains the fact that Ms. Douglas found a way to make the first person PoV work. By providing the points of view of both the hero and heroine. I actually never felt any of the frustrations that I usually feel with books written in first person and perhaps that is why I forgot to write it down when I first drafted the review.

I loved the ending provided, a look into their lives 5 years on, and a torturous peek towards what’s coming. There’s a sadness to the story, an inevitability to their shared lives and yet the happiness that radiates from it outshines it all. And that my friends is what superb storytelling is all about. Combining witty banter, heady sexual tension with highly erotic and sensuous delivery and enough fantasy and gore to feed the appetite, Raziel is a book that is a definite must read! I went a bit crazy with the quotes, forgive me. Not! Haha!

Final Verdict: Bold & unapologetic, sweeps you off your feet, big time!

Favorite Quotes

Kicking him in the shin and running like hell seemed an excellent plan, but I was barefoot and my body wasn’t feeling cooperative. As angry and desperate as I was, I still seemed to want him to touch me, even when I knew he had nothing good in mind. Angels didn’t have sex, did they? They didn’t even have sexual organs, according to the movie Dogma. I found myself glancing at his crotch, then quickly pulled my gaze away. What the hell was I doing checking out an angel’s package when I was about to die?

Her smile was faint, lovely, one of the most erotic things about her. “Now,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. His fangs slid down and sank into her neck, finding the sweet spot he knew so well. The blood was thick, rich in his mouth, and he felt the spasms begin to take over, felt her own helpless response as his wings unfurled. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, his teeth never leaving the gently throbbing vein, his cock deep inside her as his wings clamped around them both, locking them together as he gave himself over to the only kind of death he’d ever know.

“Were you sent here to torment me?” he whispered, sliding his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “Did he know exactly what I needed, what I couldn’t fight?”
He? Who? But before I could ask the question, he kissed me again, and I was lost, needing to get closer to him, needing his skin beneath my fingers. His tongue was in my mouth, and I welcomed it, reaching between us and pulling his shirt apart so I could touch his skin, his hot, smooth skin. His heart was racing, and I wanted to put my mouth against it, wanted to taste his flat nipples, wanted my mouth all over him.

He started to pull out, and I clutched at him, suddenly terrified he would leave me.
But he was already pushing back into me, deeper than the first thrust, slick and sure, deeper, thicker, harder, and when he pulled back I let out a cry, desperate.
This time he slammed into me, all the way in, pushing me hard up against the wall, and my body suddenly shattered. I let out a muffled scream, burying it against his shoulder, against the smell of clean cotton and warm skin, and another wave hit me, and then another, until I was sure I couldn’t take any more.

I lay perfectly still beneath as he took care of me, my eyes closed, just wishing he’d go away and leave me. He was going to, sooner or later, and he might as well get it over with.
“I’m not going away,” he said.
“Stop reading my mind!” I cried, my voice catching on a sob. I didn’t tend to become emotional after sex, but this was an anomaly on every front.
He cursed under his breath. And then he simply moved over me, between my legs, and before I realized what he was doing he’d pushed inside me again, fully hard, and I let out a little yelp of shock as I shifted to accommodate him.

He lifted his head to look down at me, and I stared up into his strange eyes, mesmerized. I no longer wanted to hide, to look away. He was invading my soul again, just as he had earlier, only this time he was invading my body at the same time, and I wanted more.
“There’s a limit to what you can take, Allie,” he whispered in my ear, reading me again. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And he began to move, a slow, sweet slide, and I found I could make noise after all, a deep, longing moan, as I slid my arms around his back and held him close, feeling his muscles bunch and release against my hands, wanting the feel of him, the taste of him, all around me.

He reached behind him and took my arms, slamming them down on the mattress as he rose up, pumping into me. The second climax hit me, and then I couldn’t stop. I needed nothing more than the steady movement of him inside me to bring me to a place I hadn’t believed existed, and I threw myself out into the stars as his hands pressed down on mine and the iridescent darkness closed around us once more.
I could feel him inside me, coming, and I arched back, wanting his mouth on me, wanting his teeth on me. Please, I thought, and I felt his mouth against my neck and the first sharp bite of his teeth.
And I was complete.

“I can’t,” I said in sudden fear. “I really can’t.” And I tried to get off the bed.
He caught me at the edge, pulling me back underneath him so that I was facedown on the bed, my mouth against the linen sheets that smelled of lavender and spice and something even more elemental. “Yes you can,” he said with simple truth, and he slid his arm under my stomach, pulling me up to my hands and knees.

He pounded into me, a heavy dark rhythm that was like drumbeats from the heart of Africa. The drums of the gods. And I couldn’t stop the shudders rushing through me, mini-climaxes that were building, and his hand went between my legs, his fingers touching me, and I screamed, putting my head down, my face into the sheets as I gave in to the wildness and power, the animal need washing through me. I gave myself to him with complete trust, no longer thinking, no longer doubting. He would keep me safe, he would stop when I had more than I could handle, he would know.

His cock inside me seemed to swell, and I cradled his head against me, running my fingers through his thick, curling hair, whispering to him, soft words, love words.
And then he pulled away, rising up, and I could see my blood on his mouth, see the glitter in his eyes. He stared down at me, not moving, and I felt his climax deep inside me, giving me back what he had taken from me, and I joined him, flinging myself into the darkness with only him to guide me.

“Are you always going to be able to read my thoughts?” I asked with a trace of asperity.
“I can try not to. When you’re feeling strong emotion, it will come to me, and it will go both ways. In day-to-day life, I can shield you.”
“And in bed? I’m assuming we’re going to do this again?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer. Was he still fighting it? Should I still fight it?
It was a long moment before he spoke, an endless one. “As often as possible,” he said.
I knew his thoughts, knew what he wanted. Now. Again. “Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: The Right Man by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booktherightman
Read with: Kindle/iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Gowns of White, #3
Publisher: Harlequin
Hero: Jake Wyczynski
Heroine: Susan Abbott
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: February 1, 1999
Started On: November 23, 2014
Finished On: November 24, 2014

My craving for an Anne Stuart found me with The Right Man, a novel penned by Ms. Stuart for the 50th anniversary of Harlequin. Told in three parts, The Right Man has a time travel factor to it and tells the story of Susan Abott who begins to question her impending marriage to her fiance Edward with the arrival of Jake Wyczynski, who comes bearing gifts from her godmother.

Susan has always been a dutiful daughter, one who hadn’t cared much for the passions that seems to rule people. But with the arrival of Jake on her doorstep, Susan starts experiencing twinges of doubts where her decision to marry Edward is concerned and for the very first time finds herself captivated by heady desire for a man that slowly begins to overrule her senses. However, Susan believes herself to be made of sterner stuff, that is until she finds herself occupying the role of her deceased aunt Tallulah, who had died 50 years back on her wedding day.

50 years in the past, Susan meets Jack McGowan, the man who makes her heart pound with desire, the man for whom she would give up everything, if only he were able to love her back. Tallulah’s life is a nightmare, with her father and stepmother “forcing” her to marry a man of immense wealth just so they can continue to live within the means they think should be their due. With the clock ticking, Susan has to find a way to give Tallulah a happy ending and at the same time find a way to return back to her life, something she seemingly wants less and less as the time spent with Jack makes her yearn to stay back.

The Right Man is a story that had a trifle bit of an oddity to it in the time travel factor, and yet told beautifully. Juggling three individual stories that I yearned to read as standalone novels, Anne Stuart managed to pull it off in the manner that only an author of her caliber can. I had a hard time separating Jack and Jake in my mind and I’m just going to say that I loved them both equally and fell for both of them hard and fast. They were both exactly when Tallulah and Susan had needed. And I couldn’t have loved them any more even if I tried. 

Susan & Tallulah are easy enough to separate in my mind. Though there’s a fifty year time span between the two, their situations had been eerily similar in a manner that lent the story an ethereal feel to it. Though I didn’t care much for the time travel aspect of the story and firmly believe that the story would’ve worked wonderfully well even without that and that Susan would have eventually seen the error of her decision to marry a man so unsuitable for her, Anne Stuart still managed to blow my mind with the ending she gave to the story. I could have sighed for an eternity over the beautiful ending and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Recommended!

Final Verdict: Magical!

Favorite Quotes

He pulled her closer against him, so that her body was plastered up against his nearly nude one, so that she could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her. She tasted of fresh strawberries and coffee, and he wanted more, he wanted to taste every part of her, he wanted to strip off her clothes and drag her over to that narrow, sagging bed.

She stopped thinking. She slid her arms around his waist, plastering her body against his, and she made a soft, moaning sound of surrender in the back of her throat. She’d been so cold, and now she was blazing hot, her body on fire, tasting his tongue in her mouth, feeling the strength of his hard body against hers, his hand closing over her breast, his leg nudging between her thighs.

“You want to hit me again?” he taunted.
“Yes!” She moved toward him, like a fool, not realizing his intention. He caught her upraised hand and pulled her into his arms, her body slamming up against his. This time when he kissed her she kissed him back, surrendering with a quiet moan of longing and despair.

Her instincts had been right— Jack McGowan sat sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. With a towheaded baby nestled comfortably against his shoulder.
He was snoring softly, which didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping baby one bit. He’d loosened his tie, his hair was ruffled and he was in need of a shave. He was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.

He slid his fingers through her short- cropped hair, tilting her face up to his. And then he kissed her, taking his time— a slow, languorous touch of mouth against mouth, tongue against tongue, building in increments of heat and desire until he found she was trembling and he was, too.
He didn’t ask. He simply pulled her up tight against his body and took her to the bed. And she let him.

He didn’t remember how he managed to strip his pants off, but he did so in record time. He was blind with need, wild with it, wild with wanting her, and the calm, sane part of him had vanished into some dark, dangerous place, where all that mattered was Susan, reaching for him, opening for him, taking him deep inside her as she wrapped her body around his and held him tight.

It was dark and gloriously sinful and utterly right, and she moved in the darkness, the breeze cooling her fevered skin as she slid over his body and took him deep within her, rocking and surging until she shattered around him, helpless in her powerful response, and he turned her beneath him and finished it. She hid her face against his chest, licking his skin, whispering dark and wicked secrets, and he kissed her eyelids and her throat, kissed the small of her back and behind her knees, and nothing mattered but that the night would never end.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | HQ | eBookMall | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Burn For Me by Shiloh Walker

Format: E-bookburnforme_2
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novella
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Series: Secrets & Shadows, #0.5
Publisher: St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Hero: Tate Bell
Heroine: Ali Holmes
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: April 1, 2014
Started On: November 20, 2014
Finished On: November 21, 2014

If you’ve read my review of Break for Me, you’d already know that I bought the rest of the novellas in the Secrets & Shadows series, because I was that much intrigued to read the stories of all the Bell children. Burn for Me is the story of the eldest, Tate Bell, the only boy from the three kids.

The three novellas focus on the main story of their mother’s unsolved case of disappearance and the affect that it had had on all their lives. Tate is haunted by the vivid memories of the night in question and the anger that is deep inside of him is one that is eating away at his soul. It tampers with life in ways that he would rather not acknowledge. It definitely has a dampening effect on his sort of love life with Ali Holmes, the only person with whom he had felt whole with throughout the years.

Ali knows that there is no future to be had with a man like Tate. Three years of a friends-with-benefits relationship finally takes its toll and it is when Ali decides to take the plunge and cut off ties with Tate that sets the ball rolling towards Tate facing his demons and realizing the impact his version of the truth had had on him and his family.

I was pretty excited to read Burn for Me. The scorching hot start definitely was a plus point, but I found that excitement sizzling down till the latter part of the book where the emotional punch of the storyline pretty much kicked me in the gut. I didn’t find myself enamored with the love affair between Tate and Ali. Perhaps because theirs was an affair that had started prior to the story that has the reader missing out on the fun and excitement that goes along with relationships at their beginning. Or because I just found myself at odds with the way Tate calls Ali “Ali-girl”.

What pulled me in towards the end of the story was not the romance between Tate and Ali, but rather the emotional intensity of what takes place between Tate and his father. I was almost moved to tears by the emotions the last couple of pages brought to life. The pain and suffering of not knowing for fifteen odd years has left its mark on each member of the Bell family. And Tate having carried around the sort of anger that can totally annihilate a person and still finding the strength to move past that was one that was moving in itself. For me, Tate’s father made the story. His love for his son is one that touched my heart in all the ways that matter.

Recommended for fans of Shiloh Walker and those who like short stories that don’t leave you hanging.

Final Verdict: Walker delivers the story of a father’s enduring love that knows no bounds.

Favorite Quotes

Tangling her hands in his hair, she arched and whimpered as he shifted his angle, moving so that the head of his cock stroked the bundled bed of nerves buried deep inside her and that small adjustment had her panting. Heat blistered her and pleasure consumed her.
“Tate!”
He surged against her, harder. Faster.
She climaxed around him, muffling her sob against his shoulder.
His mouth covered hers, swallowing down that ragged, breathless sound.
Then he stiffened, coming inside her.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

favorableread

by mvbookreviewer

Review: My Fair Concubine by Jeannie Lin

Format: E-bookmyfairconcubine
Read with: Kindle & iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Tang Dynasty, #3
Publisher: Harlequin
Hero: Chang Fei Long
Heroine: Yan Ling
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: May 22, 2012
Started On: November 7, 2014
Finished On: November 11, 2014

Jeannie Lin is one of those authors that writes romances that speaks to your heart. Her writing is flawlessly beautiful and China as the setting provides for that exoticism that is unbeatable. My Fair Concubine is the third book in the Tang Dynasty series and explores the story of Chang Fei Long, a nobleman and Yan Ling, a baby abandoned at a tea house where she had grown up, knowing no life except one of servitude.

Fei Long wants to save his family’s honor and is at a loss as to how to go about it when the idea strikes to make use of Yan Ling to do so. Fei Long has just three months to turn Yan Ling into princess material, to teach her the etiquettes and way of life that would be required from her when she is given to the people of Khitan as princess bride to forge political ties with China through an arranged marriage. What Fei Long doesn’t expect is for him to want to break every single rule he has set for their brief partnership and claim Yan Ling for himself. But as life would have it, many a hurdle needs to be crossed before that particular dream would be realized.

I have no idea why I skipped on reading My Fair Concubine and jumped straight to The Sword Dancer, the 4th book in the series. Either way, My Fair Concubine turned out to be a beautifully spun story with enough angst, finely wrought sexual tension and the intricacies of Chinese politics and life in the Tang Dynasty that I just adored.

I loved both Fei Long and Yan Ling. Fei Long is man who practically has honor stamped right into his DNA. Yan Ling is the woman who grew up as a servant, whose inner fire, courage, wit and wisdom makes her the right fit for a man like Fei Long. The control that Fei Long exerts on his self and emotions was such a turn on if you ask me. I love a hero who is reserved. There is such a wealth of passion hidden inside characters of that sort and I just loved what Jeannie had to offer with Fei Long. When it comes to Fei Long and Yan Ling, there’s so much to be said for the near miss caresses, the fervent longing in each glance and this intricate dance was done superbly well which reached its ultimate climax the moment during which all that control shattered under the strength of Fei Long’s hidden passion for the woman he loves. And oh my stars; what a magnificent moment that was!

I adored the colorful secondary characters like Dao and Li Bae Shen that gave this story the wholesome edge to it that it deserved. The historical tidbits and the exotic feel to the entire setting itself was one I continued to lap up like someone who was starved for just that. If history were ever to be written with such flare, I don’t think I’d ever have a problem with buying a ton of books on the subject and holing myself up somewhere for days.

This review wouldn’t do justice to the story without mentioning the scenes of passion towards the end of the story; oh boy! I was feeling quite peeved about all the heightened sexual tension in the novel with no way of breaking the promises that held Fei Long and Yan Ling from acting on their desire for one another. And when Jeannie Lin delivered on all that, sigh, I swear I just near about swooned and rightfully so if you ask me. All those hours of calligraphy lessons? Totally worth it. And that alone is reason enough to buy a copy and indulge in my opinion. Well done Ms. Lin, well done.

Final Verdict: The prose, the angst and the delivery alone attests to Lin’s mastery. Recommended!

Favorite Quotes

He placed the brush back into her hand. She knew she was gripping it too hard again as she dipped it into the ink stone, but it was the only way to keep her hand from shaking. Before she could place the tip to the paper, Fei Long moved behind her. She closed her eyes as his hand rested against her shoulder to straighten her back. His other arm circled temporarily around her to position the brush and she flooded with fever. Her toes curled with the ache of it when he moved away.

She stood in a panic, keeping herself turned.
‘I have to go.’
‘Yan Ling.’
His voice was louder this time. Closer.
She tried to slip past. Wouldn’t look even when his hands closed around her shoulders.
In the next moment, she caught a glimpse of Fei Long’s face, of his dark and tortured eyes. A muscle tensed along his jaw before he lowered his head.
Her breath rushed from her at the first touch of his mouth. His hand lifted to slide over the back of her neck while his kiss soothed over lips still sensitive from the rough scouring she’d given them. Yan Ling trembled, confused. A lost sound escaped from her.

Suddenly, his hands tightened over her hips. He held her so fiercely it was nearly painful. She could feel the heat of his skin and the taut coil of muscle and sinew through his robe. A shudder ran through him.
He pulled away roughly then, holding her at arm’s length when he couldn’t get enough of her only moments earlier. His chest heaved as he stared at her as if he didn’t know what had just happened. But she knew, in every part of her, to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
‘Forgive me,’ he breathed.
It was the first time he’d apologised since she’d met him. For the one thing she’d wanted more than anything else for him to do.

‘I would give it all up,’ he rasped.
She must have heard wrong. Her throat closed so tight she had to fight for the next breath.
‘I would give it all up for you,’ Fei Long said again, stronger this time. She staggered back a step as he came forwards. ‘Yan Ling.’
He closed the distance between them. His hands came around her waist and his eyes darkened with an unfettered hunger she had never seen. Their bodies brushed as he pulled her close.

It wasn’t long before he was backing her deeper into the cover of the trees. Not long before his hands secured themselves against the small of her back and she was being guided down. Soon she was lying with her shoulders flush against the cool grass. The coarse blades tickled against the back of her neck and she could see fragments of blue sky between the branches above.
Fei Long leaned over her. His face, so familiar now, filled her vision. Masculine and beautiful in its harshness. He captured her mouth again, one hand cradled at the back of her neck to lift her to him. His other hand was braced against the ground beside her shoulder, securing her beneath the weight and pressure of his body. As if she’d ever want to escape.

She exhaled in a small gasp, her back arching willingly. Her hips lifted until they brushed against his. In response, he pressed his full weight upon her. She could feel him. All of him.
His mouth sought her throat where he tasted her first with his tongue, then the sharp edge of his teeth. She shuddered as he devoured her. There was nothing reserved about Fei Long out here. He’d left his careful detachment in the confines of the study. This passion was for her, and her alone.

Her head fell back in surrender, but Fei Long was there to catch her. His other arm circled her now with his hand splayed against her back to keep her upright. She closed her eyes, shaking her head in denial, because the sheer torture of this was senseless. He commanded her with nothing but this single, unending caress and it became everything. Cruelly, inexplicably, everything.
She cried out as her body tightened. Fei Long crushed his mouth to her and she sobbed against his lips. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched as she shook inside and out.

Then he pulled away and her hand slipped free. There was no trace of tenderness in him as he stood. His expression was heated steel as he removed his trousers. He untied his hair as well and for a moment stood naked over her.
She took him in, all of him. Her mouth was painfully dry and even swallowing didn’t banish the knot in her throat. This was what she had wanted to know— the sight of Fei Long when there were no more boundaries between them. She took the vision deep into herself. It would always be there, no matter what the morning brought.

She pressed her lips against his throat and tasted the salt of his skin. The thrust of his body took on an exhilarating urgency, a riotous intensity that she could feel through the height and breadth of her body. There was no time to think. Only feel.
He was taking everything, just as he promised. Just as she wanted.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and held on.

“Do you know how many times I agonised over this part of your neck or this one ear?’ His mouth brushed over her neck before he took her earlobe between his lips, sucking gently. A shiver ran down her spine, making her breath catch and her toes curl restlessly. ‘You would gather your hair with your hands and sweep it over your shoulder to keep it out of the way before you’d begin to write. And I’d watch you, barely able to breathe.”

“Yes,’ he shuddered as he beseeched her. There were no words for what he wanted, but she wanted it too. ‘Yan,’ he pleaded.
Yan Ling pushed back against him as hard as she could as every muscle within her tightened. His muscled body formed a brace for her in her passion. She cried out, the sound strained within her throat. A vindicating and final rush of pleasure arched through her. An exquisite pain beyond thought.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | HQ | ARe | eBookMall

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Without Words by Ellen O’Connell

Format: E-bookwithoutwords
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Breton J. Sterling
Heroine: Hassie Ahearne Petty
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: September 30, 2014
Started On: November 6, 2014
Finished On: November 7, 2014

The very first note that I made as soon as I started reading Without Words by Ellen O’Connell was, “Reading an Ellen O’Connell after so long. I’m so excited.” That excitement pretty much started as soon as I stumbled upon Ellen’s newest release and held all throughout, since then up till I turned the very last page. Ellen O’Connell is a master unto herself. A force to be reckoned with when it comes to self-published and otherwise authors out there. Her writing style rivals that of one my favorite authors of Western themed romances, i.e. Maggie Osborne. Her heroes never fall short of making you fall head over heels in love with them and her heroines are just the same. And Without Words is definitely not an exception to the said rule.

Breton J. Sterling (Bret) is a bounty hunter, who after confronting his latest convict finds himself saddled with Hassie Ahearne Petty; it was either take her or leave her to fend off for herself which would have ultimately meant that she would starve to death or worse. Hassie has no choice but to do as the icy-eyed bounty hunter orders her to. A childhood accident had rendered Hassie without the ability to speak loudly and coherently enough for people to understand. That had pretty much defined Hassie’s life since then and she had been resigned to living the life that had been hers until Bret storms into her life and her heart, making her a changed woman forever.

Without Words is not just a story. It is a journey of two people who at first seems to have nothing in common, a man and a woman joined together by circumstances. Bret is man who is paying his self imposed dues to his family, and Hassie has no family to speak of. While Bret has no need for a woman, he can’t help but be protective of Hassie, a woman who defies every single hardship that had befallen her and still manages to see the beauty the world has to offer. And before long, Bret finds himself yearning for more of his violet-eyed Hassie, something he had never thought would happen in his lifetime.

Hassie’s awakening towards Bret as a man is one that progresses slowly. She has no experience to put her trust in when it comes to anything good happening between a woman and a man, but Bret makes her want to trust and put her belief in the honor that is practically stamped all over the man himself. The trust that unfurls in Hassie towards Bret grows in leaps and bounds until of course Bret becomes the only man she has ever loved, even though his past warns her of the consequences that this love would wreak on her heart.

Without Words is a story in which practically everything worked and meshed well together to give the sort of read that is so hard to come by in the modern world of romance today. There is a reason why I still yearn for the “classics” that started me on my journey of reading romances. And Without Words brought that back with an effortless ease that made me want to cry because there aren’t enough authors who write today like Ellen O’Connell does.

Like I mentioned earlier in my review, Ellen creates some of very the best heroes and heroines I’ve encountered in romance novels. There’s a voice to Ellen’s work that speaks to you on a level beyond just words strung together that give meaning. These words, they speak to your soul. It invokes emotions in you that you don’t think possible and yet if you are a romance reader like myself, yearn for with every fiber for your being. I cried during moments of sweet angst and smiled so much at times that my face hurt. There’s nothing more beautiful to a reader than a well spun story that they can lose themselves in and Ellen has provided just that with every full length novel that she has published to date.

Bret; I swear I just trembled from want, every single time that icy control of his that shattered under the strength of his passions, be it anger against the wrongs in this world or his desire for the woman who consumes him. Bret is a hero who is uber masculine, one who is unabashedly manly and yet has a core of strength and honor in him that makes a woman fall like a ton of bricks. And fall hard, I did. There is no other way to say this; Bret, you own my heart.

With Hassie, Ellen has once again created her trademark variety of heroine. The fact that Hassie can’t speak was a novelty in itself, her outlook towards life, that sheer joy deep inside of her that reaches out from the pages and practically engulfs you in its hold is a powerful one. Without Words is an apt title for a book that speaks to the reader on so many levels and that too with a heroine who is unable to use her voice to communicate. I loved Hassie for everything she stood for. Her love for Bret hadn’t happened overnight, neither had she thrown herself at him just because she was dependent on her. Their love had been a slow and a fiery one, one that consumes you and leaves you with that wholesome glow of having been loved and loved well.

Ellen explores with her stories the hardship that life was during those times. The imminent threat of starvation, the price women had to pay to make a livelihood for themselves and the harsh reality of women without a man by their side, the rough and at times unforgiving land that could make or break a person; all that is vividly brought to life in every single novel that I have read from her. I’m so glad that I happened across the release of this one and Ellen, you’ve made my whole month by this beautiful story, which if you are a lover of romance novels definitely ought not miss!

The problem with finding a book that moves you enough to render you unable to do anything afterwards is the fact that you never want the story to end, you want the pages to go on, the magic to continue, the feelings that courses through you to never cease. And once you turn that last page, you feel like mourning, you feel like no other book would ever have that impact on you ever again and mostly it turns out to be true, because it is so rare these days to find new books that has everything going for them. So I treasure this diamond in the rough that shines vividly through and hope that someday soon I find yet again the magic that I discovered while reading Without Words, that undeniable magic that makes being a romance reader worthwhile.

Final Verdict: Without Words is a beautifully crafted masterpiece that touched every single piece of my soul. Definitely recommended!

Favorite Quotes

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve done this too often to count, and I’ll be back before you know it, but you need to be ready to move out fast then.”
Her hand rested on his cheek, fingers soft by his temple, palm warm even through the growth of several days’ beard. Her body pressed close. She hugged him and was gone.
The cool wind blew in vain as he rode toward the town. The memory of her touch warmed him every step of the way.

She anticipated the kiss, expected hard pressure on her mouth and an invading tongue. Instead his lips brushed hers as lightly as butterfly wings before settling more firmly. Her arms tightened. So did his.
Her body molded to his, chest to chest, belly to belly. Her quickened breath matched the rhythm of his. His mouth caressed hers, played against hers. His teeth tugged gently on her bottom lip, and she opened for him, not invaded at all but joined. His tongue teased until she tried to imitate. From the sound he made deep in his throat, she succeeded.

The mattress moved under his weight. His lips feathered across hers. Her breath caught. A small moan escaped, and she tried to stifle it.
“Don’t,” he whispered against her lips, “Don’t keep anything inside. If you feel like talking that Greek at me, do it.”
She laughed, felt him inhale her laughter.
“You have the most beautiful laugh. It runs up and down my spine, shivers over my skin, and makes me want to grab hold of you like a mad man. You have no idea….” His mouth closed over hers again, his tongue tracing her upper lip, lower, along the seam.

The fever rose again, and soft sounds of desire escaped with each breath. She pulled at his shoulders again to bring him over her, and this time he gave what she wanted, settled between her thighs, slid into her hot, wet core, stretching her past what she had known. Her muscles spasmed, and he groaned.
She did it again, deliberately this time.
“Hassie.” Her plain name sounded like it belonged to someone else, someone beautiful and desirable and loved.

His heat enveloped her or maybe only merged with hers until the room lost its chill. Sweat prickled along her spine, and the tiny knot of reservation inside her dissolved in the flood of pleasure. She moaned softly, her teeth in her lower lip. Mine, she thought. Her hands fisted in his hair. Mine.

“Is that how you think of it?” she signed.
“I was being poetic, but yes, it got harder every year. I’m glad to be done with it. My only regret is I’ll never again see the look of wonder on your face when you see something like the Missouri River for the first time.”
“There will be other things to wonder at.”
“Without mountains and rivers what will there be?”
She fought the temptation to tell him of the greatest thing they would wonder over.
“There will be Christmas trees.”

Purchase Links: Amazon

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Chemistry With Calvin by Katie Allen

Format: E-bookchemistrywithcalvin
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Series: Human Design, #3
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Hero: Calvin Scott
Heroine: Lauren Mayes
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: October 8, 2014
Started On: November 5, 2014
Finished On: November 5, 2014

Katie Allen is an author that I discovered a little bit earlier on to when I started my review blog. Katie is a superb writer of erotic romances. One of these days I just might give her books like Breaking the Silence another go and do a review. That was actually my very first book by Katie which I loved to pieces. Of late however, Katie has been focusing more on writing erotica of the m-m variety which I am not a fan of. Chemistry with Calvin that came out recently seemed a good place to once again revisit a favorite author of mine and that’s how I ended up reading this in one sitting.

Chemistry with Calvin is the third book in the Human Design series, the first book of which is Experimenting with Ed which still sits neatly in my TBR shelf in my iBooks. That being said, Chemistry with Calvin can be perfectly read as a standalone since I wasn’t any worse off having started with book #3 in the series.

Calvin Scott works as the mailman at the firm where Lauren Mayes works. Calvin being a man who keeps to himself with a huge beard covering most of his face and a don’t-come-near-me vibe that keeps most people away, Lauren cannot explain why she has such a fascination for the man. There is just something about Calvin that makes Lauren seek him out, something about him that calls to her inner woman that has a hard time keeping herself down.

When danger comes calling and Lauren rapidly falls into the mess, Calvin is left with no choice but to take Lauren with him to a safe place. With government agents who would stop at nothing chasing them across the country, Lauren finds out that with Calvin she has found just a tad bit more than she bargained for.

The attraction between Lauren and Calvin is one that sizzles right off the charts. Calvin is one who cannot remember a past that goes beyond his capture by the government agency that had experimented on him. And Calvin would do practically anything to not fall into their clutches once again. Though Calvin finds Lauren to be an utter distraction, he can’t help but be drawn towards the woman who cannot stop talking, who gets under his skin in more ways than one and brings out an animalistic side of him that Lauren definitely knows how to provoke.

The dialogs between Calvin and Lauren were at times laughter inducing. Calvin and his reluctance to get involved doesn’t prevent him from getting busy with Lauren in many other ways. And I totally found Calvin’s bossy kisses a huge turn on.

Recommended for fans of the series. Though in my opinion this is not the best of Katie Allen, it still has certain elements to it that testifies to the great writer she is.

Final Verdict: Chemical explosions of the scorching variety guaranteed!

Favorite Quotes

Air left her lungs in a rush as she clung to his shoulders, digging her short nails into his skin. It had to hurt but it only seemed to incite him further. He raised and lowered her, bringing them together with quick, almost violent thrusts. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except hang on and enjoy the ride. The rougher he fucked her, the more she enjoyed it, which would probably bother her if she weren’t flying toward an orgasm that promised to be more mind-blowing than any she’d ever had before.

“Babies, needles, psycho scientists!” Her hands flew in frantic circles. “We got the jumbo-sized box—how could we forget to use a condom?”
“Shit.” Cal sat up next to her. “You were touching me.”
She bounced out of bed and felt the evidence of their condom-less deed trickle down her thigh. “So it was my fault.”
“Fuck no.” He paused. “But your hands were touching me. Everywhere.”
“And you grabbed me and just popped it in, all bare and naked and possibly baby-making.” She started pacing.
“Fine. It was my fault.” He tracked her with narrow, hungry eyes. “It was my fault I fucked you bare. My fault you felt so incredible, so hot and wet and tight around my cock, I had to come in you. My fault I wanted to mark you, make you smell like me, make you mine.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | ARe | EC | eBookMall

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: The Slow Burn of Silence by Loreth Anne White

Format: E-booktheslowburnofsilence
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Series: Snowy Creek, #1
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Hero: Jebbediah Cullen
Heroine: Rachel Salonen
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: June 24, 2014
Started On: October 31, 2014
Finished On: October 31, 2014

I seem to be running through a streak of good luck where new to me authors are concerned. The Slow Burn of Silence was a novel recommendation I got off of Amazon that has been sitting tidily in my to-be-read pile for a while now. Recently, my interests have veered towards finding good romantic suspense novels and The Slow Burn of Silence coming with raving reviews turned out to be my next read of choice.

27 year old Rachel Salonen is enjoying her engagement celebrations in Bali when she gets the shocking news of the deaths of her sister and husband. Returning home to find that her sister had appointed her as the guardian of their eight year old daughter is the first wave of flooring news that Rachel receives followed by the name of the actual father of her niece. Life as Rachel knows it comes to a standstill and six months later Rachel finds herself without a fiance, fearing the return of Jebbediah Cullen (Jeb), father of her niece, her high school sweetheart and the man convicted for the rape and assault of two women, one of whom had never been found.

Jeb returns to Snowy Creek for one reason alone. For retribution. To clear his name of the wrongful charges upon which he had been convicted and thrown into jail for which he had lost nine years of his life. The betrayal of a town that had seen him as the man from the wrong side of the river, the easiest target to put all the blame on burns. But the need for justice outweighs the anger that simmers deep inside of him, partly due to his unwavering determination that his daughter would not grow up thinking herself to be the offspring of a rapist and murderer.

Jeb aims to rattle the cages of those that had made him the scapegoat of a crime that he didn’t commit. What Jeb doesn’t aim on happening is for his daughter and Rachel to rattle his emotions inside out, giving the men who wouldn’t want him making a ruckus in his crusade for the truth to come out fighting dirty. Anger, vile and filled with hatred consumes the small town grappling in the fear of secrets spilling forth that could mean grave consequences if Jeb isn’t stopped in time.

The Slow Burn of Silence is a novel filled with evocative writing. Rachel’s thoughts are written in the first person point of view, the reason for which I have no clue. I thought it quite odd that throughout the whole story, multiple character view points were included, but it was only Rachel’s that was told in the first person. Me being not such a fan of first person viewpoints just thought its worthy of a mention in the review.

The result of a heated lover’s spat that had gone wrong nine years back forms the basis of the story. For Jeb there had been none other than Rachel and vice versa. While I understood why Rachel had testified against Jeb and revealed his secrets to the jury that had been the foundation of his conviction, I found myself a little bit reluctant to forgive her for leaving Jeb in the lurch when he had needed her the most. They had had a strong bond between them, from childhood to adulthood. Theirs had not just been a love that had kindled at first sight in high school, rather a love that had been borne out of mutual like, respect and a lot of shared moments throughout their years of friendship. And for that I just found it a trifle bit hard to forgive Rachel even though she comes out with guns blazing to clear Jeb’s name later on.

Jeb was the character who made the novel in my opinion. Life had not been easy for Jeb even as a child and at the cusp of adulthood, he had been thrown into prison together with the most vicious of criminals. The way he turned himself into someone that could make a difference made me admire him, when he could have given into bitterness, hate and resentment and let his life while away. Rachel’s sister is worthy of a mention, as a crusader for justice without whom Jeb would never have made it out.

The Slow Burn of Silence is a story steeped deep into the small town life that is Snowy Creek. Multiple characters that stand out makes the story an unbeatable one. It is small town relationships beneath which secrets lurk and wounds fester that forms the basis of the suspense aspect of the novel and it is those same frissons and ripples that made everything come to its satisfying conclusion.

The one thing that would stand out for any reader of this book is the writing. It is almost as if you are right there, in the town of Snowy Creek watching everything unfold and unravel. With the simmering secrets threatening to swallow you a whole, your heart racing in the attempt to uncover the deadly lies and half truths that had put Jeb away before it is too late. The Slow Burn of Silence is a novel that will pull you in and submerge you with a tale that is riveting and suspenseful. Recommended!

Final Verdict: Deadly small town secrets, undying love and a quest for the truth. A definite must-read for fans of the genre.

Favorite Quotes

He comes out of the bathroom. Naked. His erection sheathed and gleaming in a condom. His thighs muscular. My throat goes bone-dry as he pulls the drapes shut over the windows facing the house. Somehow he seems even more powerful unclothed. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He’s between my thighs, kneeing me open even wider . . . and he plunges into me. To the hilt. Hot, hard, quivering. I gasp, my fingers digging into his back as my body accommodates to the size of him. I can feel his balls, soft against my skin. Then he’s moving, sliding, driving into me. Hotter, harder, faster. I’m arching, sweating, shaking, desperate to have him even deeper yet, I’m aching for something even more than the sensation inside of me. More than sex. I’m aching to be whole. To be released.

She smiled at him, a slow, seductive smile that invited him in, that clawed back the years, made every terrible thing just melt away. She reached up, taking his waist and raising her knees, opening to him. Jeb’s vision swirled into shades of scarlet and red as he lowered himself and slowly thrust his cock back into her. She was hot, tight, her muscles humming. And as he sank into her, he felt as though he’d somehow come home. Like he fit, belonged.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Lions And Lace by Meagan McKinney

Format: E-booklionsandlace
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Van Alen Sisters, #1
Publisher: Island Books
Hero: Trevor Byrne Sheridan
Heroine: Alice Diana Van Alen
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: April 1, 1992
Started On: October 5, 2014
Finished On: October 12, 2014

My search for romances that feature ruthless heroes is an endless one. A time consuming one at that too. Some might call these heroes the uber alpha heroes. Or some just call them anti-heroes; you love them and hate them in equal doses. And some call them gamma heroes too because they go beyond the boundaries that define who an alpha hero is.

Authors of today who write such heroes have become far and few in between. Anne Stuart is my go to author for such heroes. Sandra Brown and Linda Howard are authors who have pushed that boundary time and yet again in some of their novels. For  the most part, these type of heroes aren’t well received by almost half of the romance reading population today. With the change of times, with the feminist movement rising above, readers no longer like the heroes who are tad on the wild side, those who don’t conform to their definition of what a hero should constitute of and if you ask me, its such a damn shame.

So a whole lot of boredom and a whole lot of internet searches later, I came across a website that had a list of books that features ruthless heroes. Now mind you, some readers define a hero as ruthless a tad differently to how I tend to define them. Luckily, this reader tended to veer towards my tastes and alas, I found myself with a couple of books I haven’t already read, that feature the heroes of the variety that I deem as ruthless but those with just that hint of redeemable quality that makes me fall like a ton of bricks for them every single time.

Lions and Lace features such a hero. Trevor Byrne Sheridan, the Wall Street wonder who rose to the top with basically nothing to his name, is Irish, and persona non grata where society is concerned. A chip on his shoulder a mountain wide, Trevor remembers the slights, the mockery and the laughter behind his back though he is equally revered by the men for the power and wealth he amasses day in and day out. The tipping point comes when society refuses to turn up at his younger sister Mara’s debut. People say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, well let me tell you, they haven’t had their dose of Trevor just yet.

Alice Diana Van Alen lives under the thumb of her uncle, her finances tied up under his name after the tragic death of her parents. Alice holds the secret of her younger sister close to her heart, a secret she is determined to carry to her grave. Alice lands under Trevor’s radar as one from the society who slighted his sister. His vengeance on her is swift, the revenge he takes on her forcing her hand into marrying him one that should have brought satisfaction to his heart. However, Trevor becomes a victim to his own plan, falling for a woman of the society, something he scorns with his very being.

Lions and Lace is a novel that provides a ton of angst. Trevor is ruthless in his revenge and seemingly doesn’t care much about the pain he causes along the way. I think the fact that the author didn’t provide much in the story from Trevor’s point of view seemed to double the angst factor which I absolutely loved. Instead, the reader has to look for clues of his torment from his actions, the way his facial expressions tended to change and of course the volatile desire that courses through Trevor whenever his wife comes into the picture. He hates the very thing that his wife represents, his bitterness about his past refusing to let him move beyond that and see his wife for who she really is, and yet he can’t help but want to possess her for himself in every single way.

Alice turned out to be a heroine who got on my nerves in the first half of the story and later on redeemed herself through her actions. From the firm grip Alice seemed to have on her emotions and what she wanted for her life, I thought that Alice would prove to be a worthy opponent where Trevor was concerned. But every time Trevor said something cruel, all Alice could seem to do was wring her hands in despair and run off crying. I wanted her to buck up and deal, to make Trevor realize the error of his ways and practically storm through his heart leaving nothing to chance. And eventually, Alice does get there and that is where I decided to forgive her and consider her worthy of the fall that Trevor would take from his pedestal.

There was a thread of a secondary romance inserted in the story, in the middle of nowhere I would have to say, and I didn’t overly care much for it. I wanted Trevor and Alice’s relationship to be the core aspect of the story. Trevor’s control was one I wanted to be shattered so badly that when it did come, it did deliver on the fronts that I wanted it to. And ladies, prepare yourselves for one of the best declarations of love by a hero of this type; it did make tears spring to my eyes and that rarely happens.

If you like your heroes ruthless and I mean really ruthless, Lions and Lace is a story worth digging into. I would recommend it if you can get past the first couple of chapters where the heroine could get on your nerves, but in the end gives in beautifully.

Final Verdict: Trevor Byrne Sheridan; slow down my galloping heart.

Favorite Quotes

In the years to come she would always remember her first sight of Trevor Byrne Sheridan. He stood in silhouette. She was not privy to the details of his face, but he left a deep and lasting impression on her. He held a walking stick, an unusual accoutrement for such a tall, muscular form. His straight, formal figure was pleasing, yet his stance left her feeling as if a frigid wind had just passed through her heart. He crossed his arms and tipped his head back to look down at her as she almost knelt on the wet marble stairway, and in the shadows he looked every bit as cold, dark, and forbidding as the night that mercilessly pelted her with rain. And she knew then, with a truth that pierced her very soul, that the devil before her now was sure to be worse than the one who had just left her behind.

“I am human,” she whispered. “If you just looked close enough.”
“I want to.” His breath feathered against her forehead. “I swear I want to.”
His mouth found hers in the moment she realized she’d yet to let go of his arm. He kissed her, offering damnation and salvation in one eloquent motion. She wanted to pull back, but something stronger—his arm, she thought— pushed her farther into his embrace until she was wrapped in his warmth and strength.

He lifted his head, and his mouth again captured hers, creating more heat between her thighs. The pleasure he gave her was like a band of rubber being pulled until it snapped and she fell, twisting in the air until he caught her, his hand beneath her hips to hold her closer, to make her pleasure complete.
“Trevor,” she moaned, chanting his name in surrender.
It drove him over the edge. He seized her and bit out the word, “Jeysus,” then fell against her, sated.

His tongue, hot and strong, thrust again and again into her needful mouth, a wild accompaniment to the thrum of the shower. Demandingly, he cupped her breast, his palm brushing the steam droplets that clung to her nipples like diamonds. He flicked open the buttons to his trousers.
She was hardly aware of what he did next. Her only sensation seemed to be his mouth on hers and the overriding instinct that he wanted her, ferociously.

She shook her head and said again to that unyielding back, “Do you love me?”
“I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what being in love is like.”
“I’m asking you. Do you love me?” Her voice caught with unshed tears.
He paused as if thinking through each word. “I’ve nothing to compare it to, but if love is obsession, if love can be so powerful it overtakes a man’s reason and his will, if love is the feeling that one would rather die than live only to grieve its loss—” He turned, and she could see the desolation on his face. In one sweet rough whisper, he said, “Then yes, I love you, Alana. I’m doomed to love you. I’ll always love you.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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