Tag / Anne Stuart

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

ARC Review: Never Marry a Viscount by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booknevermarryaviscount
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Scandal at the House of Russell, #3
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Hero: Alexander Montgomery Griffiths
Heroine: Sophia Eulalie Russell
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: September 23, 2014
Started On: September 23, 2014
Finished On: September 25, 2014

I’ve been an avid fan of the Scandal at the House of Russell series ever since the first book was published in 2013. Well, lets face it. I am an avid fan of Anne Stuart regardless. The House of Russell series follows in the wake of the three girls left orphaned by the death of their father, a death that the girls believe was murder. One by one, they set out on a quest to find the truth and end up finding the love of their lives and then some in each of these deliciously spun stories.

Never Marry a Viscount is the third and final book in the series, the story of the youngest of the three, Sophia Eulalie Russell. Left behind at home while the other two sisters had ventured out, Sophia is determined to have her own adventure and takes a bold step towards finding a place for herself in the home from which she and her sisters were removed upon the death of her father, a property now under the ownership of Viscount Griffiths; Alexander Montgomery Griffiths.

Sophia is determined to find out whether the man with the body of a semi-god that she had been spying on for weeks had anything to do with the death of her father and proceed on her way. Alexander is a man as bored and cynical with his life as most come. Guarded with his heart and emotions, Alexander believes Sophia to be the mistress that he ordered from London while Sophia believes she has been hired on as replacement of the cook that was fired from the household.

Though the initial start to the book was a bit slow, the pace and the trademark Anne Stuart banter between the hero and heroine picked up towards the second half of the book. And I loved every single bit of it. Sophia, the woman who believes herself to be stronger than those that succumb to a pretty face finds herself doing just that every single time Alexander steals a kiss from her, taking away her very breathe and sliding over senses making her falter in her determination to seek the truth.

Not much gets done in the way of finding out whether Alexander had anything to do with the death of their father as Sophia makes up her mind to escape from the clutches of Alexander before its too late for her heart and soul. But then again, where would the fun in that be? Alexander’s passion for Sophia is one that unnerves him, though he would rather die than admit to the fact. Sophia charms his jaded heart, makes him possessive in an almost animalistic manner and makes him conjure up fanciful notions of a life with her that he’d have believed his first marriage had cured him of.

There is this particular bit in the story where Sophia’s thoughts had a profound effect on me. Before she had totally succumbed to the power of the heady physical attraction between her and Alexander; and I just had to go and include that bit in the review itself because I think as women, we have all been cautioned against men who would try and get in our pants just for the sake of it. But no one ever tells us or can really describe to us what it is that makes us abandon every reasoning power that we have and just give in, because sexual attraction and desire is that powerful. And I quote:

“Her sisters hadn’t told her about this. No one had. She’d been advised on the technical details of mating, which was far more warning than most girls received, but she had two older sisters to fill her in, though to her knowledge neither of them had firsthand experience. And they’d talked about love, and shared interests, and companionship, and comfort.
But no one had said anything about a fire in your blood that burns away any common sense you might have once possessed. No one said you could want a man’s touch so much that your body was in an uproar, parts that you didn’t even name seemed to be aching with longing. No one had said you would throw everything away for a man who mocked you and teased you and then spoke to you in clipped tones like you were a servant, and yet all he had to do was touch you . . .”

Anne Stuart has a formula that works beautifully in each of her novels. And it never gets old.  Though Alexander turned out to be quite a milder version of her usual fanfare for bad boy, ruthless heroes, he nevertheless managed to charm the socks off of me and then some. Fans like myself, who read Anne Stuart because of her ruthless heroes might be just a tad disappointed that Alexander didn’t offer some of that. Sophia bears the hallmark characteristics of the usual Stuart heroines. Headstrong, stubborn and determined, Sophia remained resolute against the web of desire that she had been ensnared in until every time Alexander proceeds to take her in his arms and shows her just how good they are together.

Never Marry a Viscount ties up all the loose ends in the trilogy and gives fans the closure they need. Recommended for fans of the series, fans of Anne Stuart and fans of historical romances with heroes who can make you swoon.

Final Verdict: Formulaic Anne Stuart. Recommended!

Favorite Quotes

Each time he kissed her she seemed to go a little farther on the road to inescapable madness. This one was a little rough, a demand rather than a question, his hands hard on her, but, instead of freezing, her heart leapt in immediate response. She didn’t even want to think about what she was doing—she pulled at her hands that were locked between their bodies, and slid them around his waist, holding on as he ravished her mouth.
It was hypnotizing, it was heartbreaking, it was everything she wanted and nothing she could ever have, and she deserved it.

“You are a beast,” she said in a low, furious voice.
“And as you’ve pointed out to me numerous times, you are a beauty. See how well matched we are.” He put his finger under her stubborn chin, lifting her face to his. “So let’s see how easy you are to train.”
She tried to elbow him in the ribs for that one, and he swallowed his laughter. There were times when he was his own worst enemy, but she was just so delicious. He lowered his mouth to hers, half expecting her to bash him in the head, or at least bite him, but the moment his lips touched hers she stilled, like a startled woodland creature confronted by danger, and all his humor fled.

He lifted his head and looked down at her, bemused. He knew the answer to the question she kept asking, and he was damned if he would tell her. He was marrying her because she made him feel alive, he was marrying her because he’d never wanted a woman so much in his life, he was marrying her because in her arms he felt like he’d finally come home for the first time in his life.

He rubbed again, just enough for another small climax to hit her, and he pulled back. She made a soft cry of need, and a fierce possessiveness washed over him, one he didn’t want to consider or question. Mine roared through his blood, and he pumped his fingers into her, feeling the start of another climax. He wanted more from her, he wanted to make her cry and scream with pleasure, he wanted to give her such pleasure she could never forget it no matter how far she tried to run.

It was his kisses, she decided. She gave him a disgruntled look, calming down a bit. “Do you put some kind of poison on your lips?”
He raised both eyebrows this time. “I beg your pardon?” “Every time you kiss me, my wits desert me.”
She expected mockery, but after a startled moment he simply smiled. “Well, that’s a start.”

“Let it come,” he whispered. “Scream as loud as you can.” He slid his fingers through her wetness, up to the top, rubbing her, and watched her as everything left her and she did scream, a hoarse, sobbing sound of such wild pleasure that he could have come from watching her.
He pushed her up on the bed, following her and wrapping her in his arms as she shuddered and trembled, errant stray convulsions still rippling through her. She hid her face against him now, suddenly shy, and he smiled when she couldn’t see it. Mine, he thought. He’d claimed her, and he would never let her go. Mine.

He had his hands on her hips, holding her still as he sank into her, and his pace was driving her mad. “Do it,” she said hoarsely. “Now.”
It seemed to break whatever hold he had on himself. He thrust all the way into her, deep and hard, and it felt so good, so necessary, and she exploded once more, her body clamping down around that part that she’d taken into her mouth so lovingly, ripples of reaction shaking her.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Silver Falls by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booksilverfalls
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Series: Standalone
Publisher: MIRA
Hero: Caleb Middleton
Heroine: Rachel Chapman Middleton
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: January 1, 2009
Started On: July 30, 2014
Finished On: July 31, 2014

Silver Falls by Anne Stuart is one of those novels by her that I have tried to steer clear of because of the bad reviews this one has received. Even fans of Anne Stuart seems to have one reason or the other for giving this a bad rating which made me reluctant to pick this up for a read because I didn’t want to ruin the fascination that I harbor for Anne Stuart as an author. Perhaps I should have trusted a bit more in an author, even whose novels that can be classified as “mediocre” have wooed me more than any other author in the romance genre. From the moment I picked this up to read till I was done and beyond, I couldn’t help but wonder why most readers found this read to be so lackluster.

Based in Silver Falls of Washington where its always gloomy and always rains, Silver Falls tells the story of a creepy serial killer and the heroine Rachel Chapman Middleton and her daughter who gets caught in the web of deceit that the killer weaves so thoroughly. Up till four months prior to the start of the story, Rachel had brought up her daughter Sophie all by herself, having led a nomadic existence, traveling all over the world which had seemed to suite them both. Tragedy sends Rachel into the arms of David Middleton, who materializes at just the right time and woos Rachel into believing that its time that she settle down somewhere in order to give Sophie a more stable home.

When the murder of a young girl sends fear rolling through Silver Falls, along with it comes home the black sheep of the Middleton family; Caleb Middleton. A war correspondent who has traveled extensively around the world, Caleb comes home to put the demons that have haunted him to rest once and for all. The truth that has been staring him in his face for more than half of his life, a truth that he had been unable to get on board with and come to terms with, Caleb realizes that he has already left it to chance for far too long.

The minute Caleb crosses paths with Rachel, his brother’s wife, sparks fly between the two. Rachel doesn’t want to care overly much about how Caleb makes every cell in her come alive with his presence, nor does she want to acknowledge the fiery attraction that simmers and makes her want Caleb and no one but him. Caleb’s intentions aren’t that clear to Rachel who suspects him of being the one behind that vague sense of discomfiture and feeling of being unknowingly hunted that had been the norm ever since Rachel had moved to Silver Falls. And when the inevitable happens, there is no going back for Rachel who would do anything to keep her daughter safe.

Silver Falls is a tad different from most of Anne Stuart’s romantic suspense novels. From the beginning of the story, readers know who the killer is. Didn’t make an iota of a difference where the creepy factor was concerned as Anne Stuart managed to reel the me in with that hypnotic talent of hers that only she is capable of weaving. The town itself and the killer whose seemingly normal facade that fools Rachel into believing otherwise sent chills up and down my spine and I enjoyed the thrill that aspect of the story gave me.

One factor that seems to have not worked for most readers turned out to be Rachel. She was too stubborn and TSTL (Too Stupid To Live) in a lot of readers’ opinions. But I think Rachel fit into the mould of a typical Anne Stuart heroine. They tend to be pretty stubborn, independent and refuse to give into the hero’s demands until there is no fight left in them. And I think Rachel being a wife together with the fact that she thought she was doing what was best for her daughter played a huge role in her reluctance to face the truth which was glaringly obvious to everyone but her.

I loved Sophie. It would be hard for anyone to find fault with someone who is as intelligent, sweet and the perfect daughter for someone like Rachel. Sophie is wise beyond her years; there is a grace and poise to her character that is charming in itself. Caleb of course turned out to be sexy and just the right amount of “bad boy” in my opinion. Caleb might think he is just using Rachel to further his agenda, but as it turns out he is way more smitten and drawn into Rachel than he would like to admit. Caleb is a bit more toned down than the usual variety of Anne Stuart heroes. Nevertheless he appealed to my senses just the same.

Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart.

Final Verdict: Creepily hypnotic! Recommended!

Favorite Quotes

“Kiss me back and I’ll let you go,” he said softly.
“Fuck off.”
He kissed her anyway, and she remained stonily still, as his other hand trailed up her back to the perfect, sensitive spot just beneath her shoulder blades, and she felt her treacherous body soften.
Oh, the hell with it. She kissed him back. She opened her mouth, slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer still, and kissed him, with all the hunger and need that had been locked in her body for months, years. She kissed him because she couldn’t have him, kissed him because he showed up too late, kissed him until she felt his cock swell against her belly and the fierce need became his own as well.

“I tell you what. You can hate me. You can have me arrested. But you’ll be alive, and that’s all I care about.” And before she realized what he was doing he’d pulled the bedspread away from her, wrapping his body in it as well, and he was kissing his way down her body, his mouth latching on to her breast, sucking it into his mouth so hard she arched up off the bed. The pleasure was so fierce she couldn’t deny it anymore. She wanted, needed more, and when he moved to her other breast she almost came from the power of her response.

They moved without words, hands and mouths and bodies intertwining, stroking. She sank down on her knees in the narrow tub and took him in her mouth and he put his hands in her hair, holding her there for moments that she found unbearably arousing. He stopped her before she finished, pulling her up so that she straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist, taking him deep inside, and it was slow and sweet and gentle, and when she came she cried.

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

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Housebound by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookhousebound
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Harlequin
Hero: Noah Grant
Heroine: Anne Kirklan
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: 1985
Started On: May 19, 2014
Finished On: May 19, 2014

Housebound by Anne Stuart is one of her earlier novels, first published in the 1980’s. I must’ve been toddler then. The magic about romances that are well written is that they stand the test of time; no amount of development that comes about or technology advances that change the world can diminish the glow that is left behind in the wake of a romance that touches you deep inside.

Housebound starts in off in an ordinary enough manner. Nothing in particular stands out at first. 34 year old Anne Kirkland is the heroine that pours her heart and soul into her home, co-owned with her two siblings, older brother Ashley and younger sister Holly and their father. Though none of the members of her family are enthusiastic about the big heap of a building that practically swallows money as a whole with the humongous amounts needed for its repair and upkeep, Anne remains stoic in her belief that she would be able to save her beloved home, somehow.

When 32 year old Noah Grant comes visiting, as Holly’s companion for the weekend, Anne doesn’t expect everything Holly has said about him to be true. The dreamiest and sexist man alive that Anne has set eyes on, the instant connection that springs forth between them makes it doubly harder for Anne to remember that she is an engaged woman who should not swoon in the face of a beautiful man, but oh what a beautiful man he was to her senses, in more ways than one.

Noah has his own agenda for coming to Anne’s home, and though it makes him feel a trifle bit guilty at first, Noah is willing to do this one last favor for his father in law to exorcise the ghosts of his past. His helpless attraction towards Anne certainly doesn’t help matters along and though Noah continues to lie to himself and anyone else who asks him about his feelings towards Anne, there is no hiding from the fact that she affects him every bit as much as she’s reluctantly affected by him.

Reasons that I fell in love with the story are many. First and foremost, I think this is the most laid back hero by Anne Stuart that I’ve had the fortune of reading. Though Noah hides a secret that could break Anne’s very spirit, he is not hard edged and ruthless like the usual heroes that Anne Stuart pens, all of whom I adore. He even had me thinking to myself that this story would probably not work for me. But then, I should’ve trusted Anne Stuart a bit more that she would never lead her readers on a path that would not be fulfilling.

Though Noah is not the ruthless kind, he is every bit alpha as the Anne Stuart heroes that I have fallen countless times in love with. Noah’s troubles come from a past that he can’t or rather won’t escape from, the need to keep the memory of his wife alive, lest he forget how he failed her. And though Noah is truthful enough with himself that Anne is the first woman to have affected him as such since his wife, Noah remains stubborn in his is attempt to prevent any sort of commitment on his part from happening.

Now Anne, she practically made the story for me. She is so strong, feisty and knows when to give in. In other words Anne knows which battles to pick and fight in her life. Growing up as the middle child whose siblings had all turned out to be prodigies in their selected fields, Anne has a hard time accepting the fact that she is talented in everything that she has set her mind to undertake. Her attachment to her home stems from a deep emotional craving to love something that’d never disappoint her, and when that is taken away from her, well, let’s just say the emotional roller coaster reaches its peak by then.

Housebound is a novel where groveling is done to a fine art by the hero. Realizing his mistake had come when shit had practically hit the roof and I loved Anne for being strong enough to just up and leave when everyone that she’d trusted to do right by her had failed her miserably. Anne Stuart’s acerbic humor always makes any novel of hers a treasure to read. One cannot dwell on sad emotions for long; she has those no nonsense characters embedded into her stories that always gives the hero or heroine that well deserved nudge or if that fails, a slap in the right direction.

Well rounded secondary characters give the story a wholesome edge to it. Ashley turned out to be the most intriguing secondary character in the story. His projected indifference to everything that goes around him hides a far too astute mind that sees altogether too much. Too bad we’d never know what his story is about because I don’t think Anne Stuart has the intention of ever writing a gay romance and as fascinated as I am by his character, I don’t think even he’d move me enough to read one if ever written. But then again, perhaps I am underestimating the effect Anne Stuart novels have on me.

One more aspect of the story that made me treasure it all that more is the fact that the ending of the story really does see Anne and Noah through. Readers deserved that after going through such an emotional upheaval and healing period together with them. Well, readers deserve that in a lot of Anne Stuart novels but then her fans are almost used to the fact that she tends to end her novels a tad abruptly. So it was more than nice to say the least that the way Housebound ended put a warm glow deep in my heart. Now who wouldn’t glow when a story ends like this:

A few hours later Holly sent a telegram to Ashley Kirkland, care of the Sangre de Cristos Monastery in New Mexico.
ANNIE GAVE BIRTH TO BABY GIRL LILLIAN THIS A.M. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER DOING FINE, FATHER STILL RECOVERING. MUCH LOVE, HOLLY.

Needless to say, I was grinning. From ear to ear!

Recommended!

Final Verdict: Beautiful and splendid in all the ways that matter.

Favorite Quotes

She could tell herself it was the cold that hardened her nipples against the slowly rotating massage of his fingertips, the pad of his thumb brushing wickedly against the peak that shone darkly through the thin material. And she could tell herself it was the cold that made her lean back against his warm, strong body as if to absorb some of his heat.
But it wasn’t the chill that made her push her soft, straining breast up against his teasing hand, it wasn’t the cold that had her pressing her rounded buttocks against the iron-hard arousal directly behind her. And it wasn’t the cold that made her turn readily in his arms at his gentle pressure.

His control was absolute. Ignoring the cost, he began to move, rocking back and forth with a slow, steady rhythm. And each time he filled her it seemed a little deeper and a little fuller. A light film of sweat covered her skin, and shudders began to shake her body beneath his. And still he moved, seemingly intent only on pleasuring her, as he varied the force and the tempo of his thrusts.
The white-hot flames were building now, licking her body, and she clung to him like a boat adrift in a storm-tossed sea. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, it happened, and she was flung out into the sky in a shower of stars, and in that explosion of glory she felt his body stiffen in her arms, heard his strangled cry, and she wept, for the joy of being alone no longer.

His hands still firm on her hips, he began to move, arching up into her, then slowly pulling back, and then again, each time filling her more completely. She could feel her body shivering atop his, feel the rigid control in his arms and legs as he tried to slow the pace, to bring her along with him. But she was far ahead, her body shuddering with spasms of need that were rapidly taking over.
And then abruptly his tenuous control abandoned him, and he arched into her as her body went rigid in his arms. And he followed her, locked together through a mindless eternity, his breath hoarse and rasping in her ear as she sobbed against his damp, heaving chest.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | AbeBooks

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Special Gifts by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookspecialgifts
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Silhouette
Hero: Sam Oliver
Heroine: Elizabeth Hardy
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: January 1, 1990
Started On: May 9, 2014
Finished On: May 16, 2014

I tend to get overly dramatic every time I finish a book from my pile of books to be read by Anne Stuart. Even the romances that she has written way earlier tends to hold a magic that hasn’t died out even today. The depression that I feel because there are a handful of books left in this treasure of mine tends to grow exponentially as well. I came across Special Gifts while browsing through Goodreads or rather stalking through book shelves of readers who share a similar penchant for books by Anne Stuart and I certainly was not disappointed.

29 year old Elizabeth Hardy moves to Colorado for one reason. To lick her wounds in private and resign herself to the fate of a lonesome life for the rest of her days. But one thing that prevents her from not seeking the company of other people, mainly that of Police Detective Phil Grayson is because of her visions, the visions that render her as cold as ice from deep within; visions of horror, evilness and blood red murders. It is one such vision that propels Phil to contact his ex-Army Intelligence buddy Colonel Sam Oliver who turns Elizabeth’s world upside down in more than one way.

A killer known as the Colorado Slasher incites fear in the heart of the people and a coldness inside of Elizabeth the likes of which she has never experienced before. While Oliver with his cynical beliefs about people like her makes her want to scream in frustration, it is the hot fire of attraction that sizzles her nerve endings and warms her from deep within that disturbs her more than anything else.

While the public and law enforcement at large may treat the “Colorado Slasher” as the average serial killer, what propels Phil to contact Oliver is the fear that the killings are related to something way beyond that. Oliver who has had his emotions washed out of him a long time back finds himself in a dilemma when his body doesn’t pay heed to what his mind tells him when it comes to Elizabeth; that tangling with the likes of her is not for hardened and world weary men like him.

Anne Stuart does a swell job out of the attraction and the romance that buds into life between Elizabeth and Oliver. Though certain aspects of the suspense aspect didn’t make much of a sense to me, perhaps because I was more interested in finding out when Elizabeth and Oliver would reach that point of no return; I still loved this book and the story it had to offer. Elizabeth might want to be a recluse but her heart yearns for the impossible; for Oliver to sweep her away true to her visions of the two of them together.

Oliver resists at first, as of course most stubborn headed men do so, and finally give in, oh so deliciously when the time arrives. Oliver has this take charge attitude that is so very sexy and I found myself totally hooked to his character. His reluctant feelings for Elizabeth certainly made this a delicious read to savor. And oh boy, the shared vision of Elizabeth in her red dress with Oliver wearing nothing more than a sexy pair of jeans, taking them both to heights of pleasure unexplored before certainly made for a very enticing picture. And Anne Stuart unlike some authors who leave readers hanging on that aspect definitely delivers on that score!

Recommended.

Final Verdict: Elizabeth, Oliver and danger. Certainly a combination you ought not miss!

Favorite Quotes

His heart was racing when he stormed into the bedroom. In the darkness he could see the huddled bundle of humanity in the middle of his bed, and for a moment he, who didn’t know the meaning of fear, was terrified to move. She was covered with the quilt from head to toe, and he knew that if he pulled that cover aside he’d be looking into her lifeless brown eyes, her cut throat a second red smile beneath her mouth.
He moved slowly, kneeling on the bed, and began to pull at the quilt. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, as he uncovered her still, pale, lifeless face. And then her eyes fluttered open, focusing on his face, and she smiled at him.

She made it as far as the door. She’d forgotten he could move so fast. One moment he was lying stretched out on his huge bed, covered with the flowing red material, a few seconds later he’d caught her by the front door. Caught her with his large, strong hands, imprisoning her arms. Caught her with his big body, pressing her smaller, frailer one up against the heavy door. Caught her with his mouth on hers, hot and wet and demanding.

She brought her hands up between them to push him away, but once again her fingers touched his bare skin, his smoothly muscled chest, and she was lost. She tipped her head to one side, to give him better access, and let him kiss her.
He lifted his head and stared down at her in the darkness of the hallway, his eyes glittering and strangely savage. “Kiss me back, damn it,” he said harshly, setting his mouth back on hers. And she did, opening her mouth to his, sliding her arms up and around his neck, pulling him down to her.

This was no gentle wooing. This was demand, pure and simple. And to his mingled surprise and satisfaction it was a demand she answered, sliding her arms around his waist and softening her mouth for his searing kiss.
She was all soft and shivery in his arms. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted. He wanted to drown in her mouth; he wanted to devour her; he wanted everything to disappear but the wet, hungry texture of his mouth and hers.

He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know if he could touch her without terrifying her; he didn’t know if he could take that white cotton nightgown with its row of tiny buttons off her without tearing it from her. He didn’t know if he could stroke her, arouse her, bring her pleasure, before the raging demands of his own body overwhelmed him and he buried himself in her. For the first time in his life, his woman’s pleasure mattered more than his. He just wasn’t sure if his body realized it.

The skirt was up to her hips, and his fullness pressed against her, ready to explode.
“Wait,” he groaned against her mouth. “You’re not…”
“Yes,” she said, pulling him against the cradle of her thighs, until he rested against her, throbbing, waiting. “Yes, I am,” she whispered.
With a muffled moan he slid into her, hard and full and deep, and for a moment he thought he might explode with the wonder of it.

Purchase Links: Amazon | Abe Books | B&N

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Lord of Danger by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booklordofdanger
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Zebra Books
Hero: Simon of Navarre
Heroine: Lady Alys de Lancie
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: July 1, 1997
Started On: April 10, 2014
Finished On: April 21, 2014

Lady Alys de Lancie also known as Alys of Summersedge has lived most of her life in the convent, all thanks to her malevolent uncle Richard de Lancie otherwise known as Richard the Fair, whose ambitions begin and end with the throne he is willing to acquire by any means. By his side is the enigmatic, mysterious and much revered magician Simon of Navarre who has his own agenda when it comes to Richard and his goals.

Alys and her beautiful sister Claire are summoned back to Summersedge by Richard, of course with the ulterior motive of marrying them off to suite his needs. Wanting to offer Simon a bride of his choice, it is at first Claire that would have been paired off with Simon if not for Alys stepping in to take the place of her younger sibling. Plain and seemingly mild-mannered, Alys knows when to put her best foot forward and when to take a step back and retreat. But Simon throws all that for a loop when with one sweeping glance from his golden eyes makes Alys think of things way beyond her knowledge and capacity as an innocent who knows naught of the pleasures of the flesh.

Simon finds his plans thwarted in the face of the woman he has chosen to marry, an conundrum if ever there was one. Alys captivates Simon in a way that has never ever happened to him before, making him reconsider and re-evaluate everything he has set out to do, something of course which he doesn’t like overly much. But what is a man to do when his heart refuses to let go?

Just like every single novel by Anne Stuart, Lord of Danger contains the classic elements which makes Anne unbeatable in any genre that she chooses to write. Simon is as alluring as they come, with those elements to him that teases at your brain as well as the other senses that remains attuned to everything he does whenever he enters the picture. And Alys turned out to be just perfect for someone like Simon, a woman who wouldn’t give up, even in the face of major adversity.

I swear that Anne weaves some sort of magic wand on all her stories that makes them this good, there is no way you can pick up a story from her and remain unmoved, even if it is to give in to the urge to throw the book at the wall because of the abruptness of the ending. But then again, you tend to get used to that particular trait when it comes to Anne because somehow, you know that the happily ever after is one that would stick through all sorts of adversity.

Like most historical romances I have read from Anne to-date, Lord of Danger also comes with a side of delicious secondary romance that develops between the beautiful Claire and the altogether too married and too serious Sir Thomas du Rhaymer whose beliefs regarding beautiful women and what he perceives himself to be makes for all sorts of deliciousness when it involves him and Claire. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart and fans of historical romances.

Final Verdict: Anne Stuart proves time and yet again that love can strike even the most jaded of hearts. Beautifully crafted, as always.

Favorite Quotes

He’d forgotten how sweet a woman could taste. Or maybe no woman tasted as good as Claire of Summersedge—he was entirely ready to believe that. She kissed with complete innocence, following his lead, letting her tongue touch his, as she moved closer still.
He slid his fingers through her tangled hair, slanting his mouth across hers, deepening the kiss, feeling his soul slip away and no longer caring. He could make his confession later. He could repent later. But how could he repent of something that felt so miraculously wonderful?

“For a wise woman you can be very stupid, Alys,” he said gently. “There is such a thing as pleasure.” He gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Pleasure?” she echoed blankly, as if the word were in Arabic, even as her body arched towards his, unconsciously seeking him.
“Pleasure,” he said, his voice low and beguiling. “Shimmering, endless longing and delight, touch and taste and delicate wonder.” He moved his head closer, let his mouth hover over hers. “Heat and dampness and yearning,” he whispered. “An empty aching that finally explodes into a small death that is like no other.”

“He wants a new husband for you. Though he’s strongly considering the convent.”
“I don’t want to enter a convent.”
“That was your original request. What made you change your mind?”
“You.”

She was slipping down on the bed as the drug took possession of her, slowly, languorously. “I’m afraid of you,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t remember. “I’m afraid of loving you.”
She blinked, dazed. “You’re afraid of making love to me?” she said, her voice gently, sweetly slurred.
“No,” he said bleakly. “I’m afraid of loving you, when I haven’t loved anyone in years. It would destroy me.”
Her eyes drifted closed, but a sweet smile curved her mouth. “Then perhaps,” she whispered, “you need to be destroyed.”

He would have her, and there was no room for the tears she wept as she clung to him. He cursed his ungentle hands but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her, taking her. He moved between her legs, pushing in deep, breaking past the frail barrier of her innocence. He hurt her, and she cried. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He touched her, and she came.

“I hate you,” she said.
“I know.”
“If you touch me again I’ll see to it that you really are unmanned.”
“I know.”
Her furious eyes met his. “I love you,” she said, her voice rich with loathing.
“I know,” he said, and kissed her.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her as the pace increased, and she was caught in the tangle of his eyes, staring up at him as her body received him, faster now, harder, deeper, and she still wanted more. She was crying, she wasn’t sure why, but he licked the tears from her face and kissed her with them. She wanted to hold him, but her hands were trapped beneath his, and all she could do was absorb him, take him, as he was taking her, steal his soul and make it her own.

For a moment he said nothing. Then he spoke. “Will you come away with me?”
She looked warily at the horse. “Where?”
“To the far reaches of the world. To the isles of the north, where the wind is like ice. To the heat of the desert, to the mountains of Switzerland. Come away with me and you may never see England again.”

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Shameless by Anne Stuart

Format: E-bookShameless.jpeg
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The House of Rohan, #4
Publisher: MIRA
Hero: Benedick Francis Alistair Rohan
Heroine: Melisande Carstairs
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: June 21, 2011
Started On: April 6, 2014
Finished On: April 10, 2014

I believe I am in quite the predicament. Anne Stuart has ruined me. Yes, you heard me right. She has ruined me for practically every other author out there. Two or three books from random authors and that feeling of restlessness stirs inside of me, that craving to read something from an author I firmly believe would never fail me. And every single time I start a new book from her, there is this feeling of anticipation that courses through me, that feeling of rightness and contentment in knowing that Anne Stuart would never do me wrong. And with every book that I finish reading, depression hits, because I know that I would end up devouring most of her published books pretty soon and then I start wondering, where on Earth am I going to get my fix from when that day comes?

Shameless is the 4th and last published book in the delectable The House of Rohan series by Anne Stuart. Depravity is the name of the game for the Rohans, but then the only truly “depraved” character I encountered from this series turns out to be the one hero that wasn’t a Rohan; Lucien from the 3rd book Breathless. Even though Shameless could be read as a standalone, I would advice you to read at least Breathless first. Because certain aspects of the story would only make sense and also give you that deep feeling of happiness if you’ve read Lucien’s story first.

Shameless tells the tale of the sixth Viscount Rohan who has gone through one tragedy after the other that leads him to believe that he would be better off marrying someone who would just bear him children and look for his fix for carnal pleasure elsewhere. That is the intention with which Benedick returns to London and in turn gets gobsmacked by his encounter with the reformist who makes his head spin; Melisande Castairs widow of Sir Thomas Castairs.

Melisande’s charitable activities leaves her on the fringes of society, but Melisande is a determined woman if ever there was one, taking in the “soiled doves” and teaching them the way to a better life. At first Benedick is annoyed by the woman who single-handedly thwarts his attempt to appease the hunger that has not been slated in a long while. But then his fascination with Melisande is one Benedick is willing to ignore at all cost, until she turns up on his doorstep, seeking his help to dig deeper into the activities taking place in the “Heavenly Host”, a secret society of sorts that gets together to seek and slake all types of sexual needs. Though Benedick might not want to believe what Melisande has to say, his own brother’s elusiveness raises red flags all over the place and Benedick has little choice left but to investigate with the annoying Melisande at his heels, and perhaps seduce the woman along the way and walk away once his hunger for all things that is Melisande has been appeased.

While some die-hard fans of Anne Stuart had found Benedick to be too “mild” compared to the likes of gamma heroes that Anne Stuart creates in most of her books, I found Benedick to be just the right sort of rake for Melisande. Lucien turned out to be the darkest of heroes in this series, so perhaps Anne Stuart’s mind was on toning things down a bit from all the intensity that had gone down in the previous book.

As always, Anne Stuart kept the story alive and kicking in so many ways. There are the characters, each and everyone of whom contributes in some way to make the story the well rounded one it turned out to be. And then there is the trademark caustic wit of Anne Stuart that shines through in each and every dialog that happens in the story. I loved the conversations that took place between Melisande and Benedick, not to mention the constant parrying back and forth between Benedick and Lucien; Benedick always having the urge to throttle the very life out of Lucien.

I just flat-out adored Melisande. She’s like this deep bundle of energy and spirit, determined to right the world, one wrong at a time. The fact that she doesn’t seem to mind what the society may think of her and goes on brazenly working to achieve the things she believes in earned her major points! I rooted for her every step of the way and couldn’t get enough of the way that she cannot help herself over her want for a man who is so deliciously wrong for her in numerous ways. Her take charge attitude is one that I loved to bits, the way she just slams her way through into Benedick’s seemingly well ordered life and turns it completely upside down a reason that kept a smile on my face in a way that signaled my unabashed enjoyment for the story.

Ah, and then there is Benedick. Just like 99.99% of the heroes that Anne Stuart creates, Benedick won my heart through and through – it was just as simple as that. I loved the conflict his waspish tongue brought to the story, the angst and the turmoil that kept the story alive, not to mention that deep sexual pulse which brings that electrical vibe to the story that makes it hard to put down. This is where once again, I have to wish and ask out aloud; why cannot more authors embrace writing stories and heroes like Anne Stuart does? Too much to ask in a world where even romance books have to be politically right huh?

While there seemed to be a thread of a secondary romance in the story, namely between Brandon Rohan and Emma Cadbury, it seemed to just stop when things seemed to get interesting between them. And I can’t help but want to read Emma and Brandon’s story with a need that is almost crippling in its intensity! An internet search into the matter revealed that MIRA had not wanted any more stories into the Rohan series even though Anne Stuart had been of the mind to write Emma and Brandon’s story next. Oh the soul crushing disappointment of it all!

If all this constant rambling has given you anything after reading this review, it should be the fact that this story is one that I loved to bits and pieces. The fact that Miranda and Lucien seems to be making so many babies and seeing a “softer” side of Lucien; well, softer in the context of Lucien, was one additional bit about Shameless that had me smiling from deep within my heart. And if you don’t understand where I am going with this review, I will just lay it out for you; I recommend this as one of the most entertaining reads I’ve had the good fortune of reading this year. Don’t miss out on the last installment in this wonderful series!

Final Verdict: Anne Stuart’s mastery continues to amaze & Shameless just sets the fact in stone.

Favorite Quotes

He moved closer, brushing his face against her arm, breathing in her scent. Sun-warmed skin married with the roses and something indefinably female that stirred his senses. Danger, he reminded himself, his instincts well-honed. This was a very dangerous woman.
And then he fell asleep.

His smile was fleeting. “I’m an eminently reasonable man.” And before she realized what he was doing she was back in his arms and he was kissing her, openmouthed and hot and wet, no teasing approach, just raw, sexual demand that should have filled her with disgust and dismay.
Instead her stomach tightened, her heart raced, and the place between her legs grew hot and tingling.

She turned her face away from him, staring at the wall, trying to control her wayward body, envisioning it packed in ice, frozen. But the ice melted against him, and her body was soft and welcoming.
“What do you want?” he persisted, his breath hot against her ear, and his teeth closed lightly over the lobe, and she wanted to moan in pleasure. “What…do…you…want?”

She gave in. She had reached the end of her ability to fight him. “More,” she whispered.
And then all conscious thought vanished in a white haze as her body arched, rigid, as thousands upon thousands of tiny pinpricks shot through her, and she lost herself, the pleasure-pain exploding into a rich darkness she never wanted to leave. It was glorious. It was heaven.
It was disaster.

There was no escape, she didn’t want to escape, but she kept fighting, pushing it away.
“Stop it, Melisande,” he growled in her ear. “Take it. Claim it.”
“No,” she sobbed.
“Take it,” he said again, hard inside her, slamming into her so that the bed shook and her body trembled and she knew she would break apart, and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop…

There was no time, no need for preparation. She was wet, he was hard, and he simply released himself from the breeches, lifting her up and bracing her against the wall before he thrust into her with a grunt of satisfaction, feeling her tight around him.
He wanted to slow down, afraid he might hurt her, but she dug her fingers into his shoulders. “No,” she whispered in his ear. “Don’t stop. I need you. Hard. I need you to take me. Harder.”

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

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