Saturday, January 31, 2015

Book Review: Doon (Doon #1) by Carey Corp & Lorie Langdon

Title: Doon (Doon #1)
Author: Carey Corp & Lorrie Langdon 
Year: © 2013 (August 20th)
My Rating: ♥♥♥♡♡
Pages: 368
Genre: Fantasy
Format: Hardcover
Sources: Booksparks
Publishers: Blink
ISBN: 0310742307
ISBN 13: 97803107442302



Veronica doesn't think she's going crazy. But why can't anyone else see the mysterious blond boy who keeps popping up wherever she goes? When her best friend, Mackenna, invites her to spend the summer in Scotland, Veronica jumps at the opportunity to leave her complicated life behind for a few months. But the Scottish countryside holds other plans. Not only has the imaginary kilted boy followed her to Alloway, she and Mackenna uncover a strange set of rings and a very unnerving letter from Mackenna's great aunt—and when the girls test the instructions Aunt Gracie left behind, they find themselves transported to a land that defies explanation. Doon seems like a real-life fairy tale, complete with one prince who has eyes for Mackenna and another who looks suspiciously like the boy from Veronica's daydreams. But Doon has a dark underbelly as well. The two girls could have everything they've longed for...or they could end up breaking an enchantment and find themselves trapped in a world that has become a nightmare.

                    ☆My Thoughts☆

So, I read "Destined for Doon" first and I got terribly spoiled for some parts. Now I have read both books and I like the second book rather than the first. The book was okay but it could have been better and my expectations were very high on this book. This books wasn't as bad as I saw some 2 and 1 star(s) reviews on goodreads. I found this book to be very unique and vividly imaginative.

Both authors are splendid and I liked that two minds were put together to write this storyline. However at times the story was a bit dry and I felt as if it wasn't going anywhere. It just a bit repetitive at times and I was kind of sluggish to give it another go. The good part of the book was the middle. When I first stared reading the book, I was just waiting for the climax really, really badly. After getting pass a few chapters then the excitement really gets you.

 I recommend the 2nd book the most but this wasn't such a bad read. This is a great fantasy series that I must recommend. The characters were great then annoying. At times I couldn't connect to what they wete doing but emotional wise yes. They annoyed me when they just acted so silly like they were unawre of there surtoundings and that made me take the story for a bad "House of Anubis" episode with the main chacter Nina. Other than thoes complains it was an okay read.

I am the author of several young adult books, including the DOON series from BLINK/HarperCollins, inspired by Lerner & Loewe's Brigadoon, and co-written w/Lorie Langdon. 

*Please note this is an unmonitored account. I do love to connect with readers on Twitter and Facebook. Visit the Dooniverse for links:*
Lorie Langdon is co-author of DOON, a YA reimagining of the musical Brigadoon, available now from Blink/Harper Collins!
A few years ago, she left her thriving corporate career to satisfy the voices in her head. Now as a full-time author and stay-at-home mom, she spends her summers editing poolside while dodging automatic water-gun fire, and the rest of the year tucked into her cozy office, Havanese puppy by her side, working to translate her effusive imagination into the written word.

♡January Book Haul♡

Hello everyone. Welcome to my January Book Haul. I have 29 great review books. Thanks to everyone that sent me a book. Enjoy!!

  1. Queen of Hearts Volume 1: The Crown by Collen Oaks
  2. (ARC) The Kind Worth Killing by Peter Swanson
  3. Growl by Ashley Fontainne (SIGNED)
  4. (ARC) Save Me by Kristyn Lewis
  5. Epitaph Reveille by Victor Nives (SIGNED)
  6. I Just Wanted Love by D. J. Burr
  7. A Killer Retreat by Tracy Webber
  8. Cracked! A Magic iPhone Story by Janie A. Southard
  9. (ARC) Fish In A Tree by Lynda Mullay Hunt 

  1. I Am Jackie Robinson by Brad Meltzer
  2. The Girl With A Clock For A Heart by Peter Swanson
  3. Budapest Romance by Rozsa Gaston (SIGNED)
  4. Landfall by Joseph Jablonski
  5. (ARC) The Poser by Jacob Rubin
  6. Diamond Rings are Deadly Things by Rachelle J. Christensen
  7. Both of Me by Jonathan Friesen
  8. If I Stay by Gayle Forman
  9. Four by Veronica Roth 

  1. The Black Elf of Seaward Isle by Jondi Parker
  2. Goldson by Pierce Brown
  3. The Blood of Fifth Night by E.M. Powell
  4. A Second Bite At The Apple by Dana Bate
  5. Risen II The Progeny by Krystal Lawrence (SIGNED)
  6. Escape Through The Wilderness by Gary Rodriguez
  7. Empty Cup by Suzanne Costigan
  8. (ARC) Three Days to Forever by Lauren Carr (SIGNED)
  9. Admit to Mayhem by D.J. Adamson (SIGNED)

  1. South of Risinf Sun by J.D. McCall (SIGNED)
  2. The Red Road by Jenni Wiltz (SIGNED)
  3. Solo by Kevin V. Symmons (SIGNED)

                      Happy Valentine's Day  Month!!!!! 

Friday, January 30, 2015

Blog Tour Book Review: The Girl With A Clock for A Heart by Peter Swanson + Giveaway #17

The Girl with a Clock for a Heart

by Peter Swanson

on Tour January 6 - February 28, 2015


Book Details:

My Rating: ♪♪♪♪♪/5
Genre:  Fiction, Thriller, Literary
Published by:   William Morrow Paperbacks
Publication Date:   January 6, 2015 
Number of Pages:   304
ISBN:   9780062267504
Purchase Links:    


Already optioned for film, The Girl with a Clock for a Heart is Peter Swanson’s electrifying tale of romantic noir, with shades of Hitchcock and reminiscent of the classic movie Body Heat. It is the story of a man swept into a vortex of irresistible passion and murder when an old love mysteriously reappears.
On an ordinary Friday evening at his favorite Boston tavern, George Foss’s comfortable, predictable life is shattered when a beautiful woman sits down at the bar, a woman who vanished without a trace twenty years ago.
Liana Dector isn’t just an ex-girlfriend, the first love George couldn’t quite forget. She’s also a dangerous enigma and quite possibly a cold-blooded killer wanted by the police. Suddenly, she’s back—and she needs George’s help. Ruthless men believe she stole some money . . . and they will do whatever it takes to get it back.
George knows Liana is trouble. But he can’t say no—he never could—so he makes a choice that will plunge him into a terrifying whirlpool of lies, secrets, betrayal, and murder from which there is no sure escape.
Bold and masterful, full of malicious foreboding and subtle surprises, The Girl with a Clock for a Heart is an addictive, nonstop thriller—an ever-tightening coil of suspense that grips you right up to its electrifying end.

Read an excerpt:


It was dusk, but as he turned onto the rutted driveway he could make out the perimeter of yellow tape that still circled the property.
George parked his Saab, but left the engine running. He tried not to think about the last time he’d been to this almost-hidden house on a dead-end road in New Essex.
The police tape was strung in a wide circle, from pine tree to pine tree, and the front door was plastered with red and white tape in an X pattern. He turned off the engine. The air conditioner stopped blowing, and George almost immediately felt the smothering heat of the day. The sun was low in the sky, and the heavy canopy of pine trees made it seem even darker.
He stepped out of the car. The humid air smelled of the sea, and he could hear gulls in the distance. The dark brown deckhouse blended into the woods that surrounded it. Its tall windows were as dark as its stained siding.
He ducked under the yellow tape that declared police line do not cross and made his way toward the back of the house.
He was hoping to get in through the sliding-glass doors that opened into the house from the rotted back deck. If they were locked, he would throw a rock through the glass. His plan was to get inside the house and search it as quickly as possible, looking for evidence the police might have missed.
The sliding doors were plastered over with police stickers but were unlocked. He entered the cool house, expecting to be consumed with fear once he was inside. Instead, he felt a surreal sense of calm, as though he were in a waking dream.
I’ll know what I’m looking for when I find it.
It was clear that the police had thoroughly searched the property. On several surfaces there were the streaky remains of fingerprint dust. The drug paraphernalia that had been on the coffee table was gone. He turned toward the master bedroom on the east side of the house. It was a room he had never been in, and he opened the door expecting a mess. Instead, he found a fairly neat space, a large, low-ceilinged bedroom with a king-size bed that had been made up with floral sheets. There were two low bureaus opposite the bed, each topped with a plate of glass.
Faded Polaroids were pinned under the grimy glass. Birthday parties. Graduations.
He opened the drawers, found nothing. There were some old items of clothing, hairbrushes, perfume bottles still in boxes, all with the dusty, floral smell of mothballs.
A carpeted stairwell led to the lower level. As he passed the landing by the front door he tried hard to keep the images out of his mind. But he looked extra long at the place where the body had fallen, where the skin had turned the color of not skin.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left into a large finished basement, musty-smelling and windowless. He tried the wall switches, but the electricity had been turned off. He pulled the small flashlight he’d brought out of his back pocket and cast its thin, dim light around the basement. In the center of the room was a beautiful vintage billiards table with red felt instead of green, balls scattered randomly across its surface. In the far corner was a high bar area with several stools and a large mirror engraved with the logo of George Dickel Tennessee Whiskey.
In front of the mirror was a stretch of empty shelf that he imagined had once held an array of liquor bottles, long since emptied and thrown away.
I’ll know what I’m looking for when I find it.
He returned upstairs and looked through the smaller bedrooms, both of them, searching for any sign of their most recent occupants, but found nothing. The police would have done the same, would have bagged as evidence anything that struck them as significant, but he had had to come and look for himself. He knew he’d find something. He knew she would have left something.
He found it in the bookshelf of the living room at eye level in a wall of books. It was a white hardcover book, slipcovered in plastic as though it had once belonged to a library, standing out among the other books, most of which were technical. Boating manuals. Travel guides. An ancient set of a child’s encyclopedia.
There was some fiction on the shelf as well, but it was all mass-market paperbacks. High-tech
thrillers. Michael Crichton. Tom Clancy.
He touched the book’s spine. The title and the author’s name were in a thin, elegant red font. Rebecca. By Daphne du Maurier.
It was her favorite book, her one and only favorite book. She had given him a copy the year they had met. Their freshman year of college. She had read parts of it out loud to him in her dormitory on cold winter nights. He knew passages by heart.
He pulled the book out, ran his finger along the deckled edges of its pages. It fell open at page 6. Two sentences were boxed by carefully drawn lines. He remembered that it was the way she marked books. No highlighter. No underlined passages. Just exact outlines around words and sentences and paragraphs.
George didn’t immediately read the marked words; the book had fallen open not by chance but because a postcard had been tucked between its pages. The back of the postcard was slightly yellowed with age. There was nothing written on it. He turned it over and looked at the color image of a Mayan ruin, standing untoppled on a scrubby bluff, the ocean in the background. It was an old postcard, the color of the ocean too blue and the color of the grass too green. He turned it back over. “The Mayan Ruins of Tulum,” the description read. “Quintana Roo. Mexico.”

Chapter 1

At five minutes past five on a Friday night, George Foss walked directly from his office to Jack Crow’s Tavern through the gluey air of a Boston heat wave. He’d spent the final three hours of work meticulously proofreading a rewrite on an illustrator’s contract, then staring numbly through his window at the hazy blue of the city sky. He disliked late summer the way other Bostonians disliked the long New England winters. The weary trees, the yellowing parks, and the long humid nights all made him long for the crisp weather of autumn, for breathable air that didn’t make his skin stick to his clothes and  his bones feel tired.
He walked the half-dozen blocks to Jack Crow’s as slowly as he could, hoping to keep his shirt relatively sweat-free.
Cars jockeyed along the narrow Back Bay streets attempting to escape the funk of the city. Most residents of this particular neighborhood would be planning their first drinks of the evening at bars in Wellfleet or Edgartown or Kennebunkport, or any of the seaside towns within reasonable driving distance. George was happy enough to be going to Jack Crow’s, where the drinks were average but where the air conditioning, monitored by an ex-pat French Canadian, was routinely kept at meat-locker temperatures.
And he was happy enough to be going to see Irene. It had been over two weeks since he’d seen her last, at a cocktail party thrown by a mutual friend. They had barely spoken, and when George left first she had thrown him a look of mock anger. It made him wonder if their on-again off-again relationship had reached one of its periodic crisis points. George had known Irene for fifteen years, having met her at the magazine where he still worked. She had been an assistant editor while he was in accounts receivable. Being an accountant at a well-known literary magazine had seemed the perfect job for a man with a literary bent but no literary talent. Now George was business manager of that particular sinking ship, while Irene had worked her way up the ranks of the Globe’s ever-expanding website division.
They had been a perfect couple for two years. But those two years had been followed by thirteen years of diminishing returns, of recriminations, occasional infidelities, and a constantly lowering set of expectations. And while they’d long since given up the notion that they were an ordinary couple with an ordinary destiny, they still came to their favorite bar, they still told each other everything, they still occasionally slept together, and, against all odds, they’d become best friends. Despite this, there was the periodic need to clarify their status, to have a conversation.
George didn’t feel he had it in him this particular night. It had nothing to do with Irene; in some ways his feelings toward  her hadn’t changed in about a decade. It had more to do with how he felt about life in general. Approaching forty, George felt as though his world had been slowly drained of all its colors. He’d passed that age when he could reasonably expect to fall madly in love with someone and raise a family, or to take the world by storm, or to have anything surprising lift him out of his day-to-day existence. He would never have voiced these sentiments to anyone—after all, he was securely employed, living in the fair city of Boston, still possessed of all his hair—but he spent most days in a haze of disinterest. And while he was not yet pausing in front of funeral homes, he did feel as though he hadn’t looked forward to anything in years. He had no interest in new friends or new relationships. At work, the paychecks had grown but his enthusiasm for his job had wavered. In years past he had felt a sense of pride and accomplishment with the publication of each monthly issue. These days he rarely read an article.
Approaching the tavern, George wondered what kind of mood Irene would be in tonight. He was sure to hear about the divorced editor at her office who had asked her out several times that summer. What if she agreed, and what if they became serious and George was finally thrown all the way to the curb? He tried to summon an emotion but instead found himself wondering what he would do with all the spare time. How would he fill it? And whom would he fill it with?
George pushed through the frosted-glass doors of Jack Crow’s and walked directly to his usual booth. Later he realized he must have walked right by Liana Decter sitting at the corner of the bar.
On other evenings, cooler ones, or ones when George was less dispirited about his lot in life, he might have surveyed the few patrons at his local tavern on a Friday night. There might even have been a time when George, catching sight of a lone curvy woman with pale skin, would have been jolted with the possibility that it was Liana. He’d spent twenty years both dreaming of and dreading the idea of seeing her again. He’d spotted variations of her across the world: her hair on a flight stewardess, the crushing lushness of her body on a Cape beach, her voice on a late-night jazz program. He’d even spent six months convinced that Liana had become a porn actress named Jean Harlot. He’d gone so far as to track down the actress’s true identity. She was a minister’s daughter from North Dakota named Carli  Swenson.
George settled in his booth, ordered an old-fashioned from Trudy, the waitress, and removed that day’s Globe from his well-worn messenger bag. He’d saved the crossword puzzle for this very occasion. Irene was meeting him, but not till six o’clock. He sipped at his drink and solved the puzzle, then reluctantly moved on to sudoku and even the jumble before he heard Irene’s familiar steps behind him.
“Please, let’s switch,” she said by way of greeting, meaning their seats. Jack Crow’s had only one television, a rarity in a Boston bar, and Irene, outranking George in her Red Sox loyalty and fandom, wanted the better view.
George slid out from the booth, kissed Irene on the side of her mouth (she smelled of Clinique and Altoids), and resettled on the other side, with its view of the oak bar and floor-to- ceiling windows. It was still light outside, a pink slice of sun just cresting over the brownstones across the street. The spread of light across the glass caused George to suddenly notice the lone woman at the corner of the bar. She was drinking a glass of red wine and reading a paperback, and a flutter in George’s stomach told him that she looked like Liana. Just like Liana. But this was a flutter he’d experienced many times before.
He turned to Irene, who had swiveled toward the blackboard behind the bar that listed the day’s specials and the rotating beers. As always, she was unfazed by the heat, her short blond hair pushed off her forehead and curling back behind her ears.
Her cat’s-eye glasses had pink frames. Had they always? After ordering an Allagash White, Irene updated George on the continuing saga of the divorced editor. George was relieved that Irene’s initial tone was chatty and non-confrontational. Stories of the editor tended toward the humorous anecdote, even though George was apt to detect a critical undertone. This editor might be chubby and ponytailed and a dedicated microbrewer, but at least with him there was a palpable future consisting of something more than cocktails and laughs and the very occasional sex that George offered these days.
He listened and sipped his drink but kept his eye on the woman at the bar. He was waiting for a gesture or a detail to disabuse him of the notion that he was actually looking at Liana Decter and not a ghost version or some doppelganger. If it was Liana, she’d changed. Not in any obvious way, like putting on a hundred pounds or cutting all her hair off, but she looked altered somehow, in a good way, as though she’d finally grown into the rare beauty that her features had always promised. She’d lost the baby fat she had in college, the bones of her face were more prominent, and her hair was a darker blond than George remembered.
The more George stared, the more he became convinced it was her.
“You know I’m not the jealous type,” Irene said, “but who do you keep looking at?” She craned her neck to look back toward the rapidly filling bar area.
“Someone I went to college with, I think. I can’t be sure.”
“Go ask her. I won’t mind.”
“No, that’s okay. I barely knew her,” George lied, and something about the lie caused a spidery ripple of agitation to race across the back of his neck.
They ordered more drinks. “He sounds like a little prick,” George said.
“Your divorcé.”
“Ah, you still care.” She slid out of the booth to go to the restroom, and this gave George a moment to really stare across the room at Liana. She’d become partially blocked by a pair of young businessmen removing their jackets and loosening their ties, but in between their maneuverings he studied her. She was wearing a white collared shirt, and her hair, a little shorter than it had been in college, hung down on one side of her face and was tucked behind an ear on the other. She wore no jewelry, something George remembered about her. There was an indecent creaminess to her neck and a mottled flash of crimson at her breastbone. She’d put away her paperback and now seemed, as she occasionally surveyed the bar, to be looking for someone.
George was waiting for her to get up and move; he felt that until he saw her walk he could not be sure.
As though his thinking it had made it happen, she slid off the padded stool, her skirt briefly bunching at midthigh. As soon as her feet touched the floor and she began to walk in George’s direction, there was no doubt. It had to be Liana, the first time he’d seen her since his freshman year at Mather College, nearly twenty years ago. Her walk was unmistakable, a slow tilting roll of the hips, her head held high and back as though she were trying to see over someone’s head. George lifted a menu to cover his face and stared at its meaningless words. His heart thudded in his chest. Despite the air conditioning, George could feel his palms start to dampen.
Liana passed just as Irene slid back into the booth. “There’s your friend. You didn’t want to say hello?”
“I’m still not sure if it’s her,” George said, wondering if Irene could hear the dry panic in his voice.
“Got time for another drink?” Irene asked. She had reapplied her lipstick in the bathroom.
“Sure,” George said. “But let’s go somewhere else. We could walk a little bit while it’s still light.”
Irene signaled the waiter, and George reached for his wallet.
“My turn, remember,” Irene said and removed a credit card from her bottomless purse. While she paid the check, Liana walked past again. This time George could stare at her retreating figure, that familiar walk. She’d grown into her body too. George thought she’d been his ideal in college, but if anything she looked better now: long tapering legs and exaggerated curves, the kind of body that only genetics, not exercise, will ever get you. The backs of her arms were pale as milk.
George had imagined this moment many times but had somehow never imagined the outcome. Liana was not simply an ex-girlfriend who had once upon a time broken George’s heart; she was also, as far as George still knew, a wanted criminal, a woman whose transgressions were more in line with those of Greek tragedy than youthful indiscretion. She had, without doubt, murdered one person and most likely murdered another.
George felt the equal weights of moral responsibility and indecision weigh down upon him.
“Coming?” Irene stood, and George did as well, following her brisk heel-first pace along the painted wooden floors of the bar.
Nina Simone’s “Sinnerman” rat-a-tatted on the speakers. They swung through the front doors, the still-humid evening greeting them with its wall of stale, steamy air.
“Where to next?” Irene asked.
George froze. “I don’t know. Maybe I just feel like going home.”
“Okay,” Irene said, then added, when George still hadn’t moved, “or we could just stand out here in the rain forest.”
“I’m sorry, but I suddenly don’t feel so great. Maybe I’ll just go home.”
“Is it that woman at the bar?” Irene arched her neck to peer back through the frosted glass of the front door. “That’s not what’s-her-name, is it? That crazy girl from Mather.”
“God, no,” George lied. “I think I’ll just call it a night.”
George walked home. A breeze had picked up and was whistling through the narrow streets of Beacon Hill. The breeze wasn’t cool, but George held out his arms anyway and could feel the sweat evaporating off his skin.
When George got to his apartment, he sat down on the first step of the exterior stairway. It was only a couple of blocks back to the bar. He could have one drink with her, find out what brought her to Boston. He had waited so long to see her, imagining the moment, that now, with her actually here, he felt like an actor in a horror flick with his hand on the barn door about to get an ax in his head. He was scared, and for the first time in about a decade he longed for a cigarette. Had she come to Jack Crow’s to look for him? And if so, why?
On almost any other night, George could have entered his apartment, fed Nora, and crawled into his bed. But something about the weight of that particular August night, combined with Liana’s presence at his favorite bar, made it seem as though something was about to happen, and that was all he needed.
Good or bad, something was happening.
George sat long enough to begin to believe that she must have left the bar. How long would she really sit there by herself with her glass of red wine? He decided to walk back. If she was gone, then he wasn’t meant to see her again. If she was still there, then he’d say hello.
As he walked back to the bar the breeze pressing against his back felt both warmer and stronger. At Jack Crow’s, he didn’t hesitate—he swung back through the door and, as he did, Liana, from her spot at the bar, turned her head and looked at him. He watched her eyes brighten a little in recognition. She had never been one for outsize gestures.
“It is you,” he said.
“It is. Hi, George.” She said it with the flat intonation he remembered, as casually as though she’d seen him earlier that day.
“I saw you from over there.” George tilted his head toward the back of the bar. “I wasn’t sure it was you at first. You’ve changed a little, but then, walking past you, I was pretty sure. I got halfway down the street and turned back.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said. Her words, carefully spaced, had a little click at the end. “I actually came here . . . to this bar . . . to look for you. I know that you live near here.”
“I’m glad you spotted me first. I don’t know if I would have had the courage to go up to you. I know how you must feel about me.”
“Then you know more than I do. I don’t exactly know how I feel about you.”
“I mean about what happened.” She hadn’t changed position since he’d come back into the bar, but one of her fingers gently tapped on the wooden bar to the percussive music.
“Right, that,” George said, as though he were searching in his memory banks for what she could be talking about.
“Right, that,” she repeated back, and they both laughed.
Liana shifted her body around to face George more squarely.
“Should I be worried?”
“Citizen’s arrest? Drink thrown in my face?” She had developed tiny laugh lines at the edge of her pale blue eyes. Something new.
“The police are on their way right now. I’m just stalling you.”
George kept smiling, but it felt unnatural. “I’m kidding,” he said when Liana didn’t immediately speak.
“No, I know. Would you like to sit? You have time for a drink?”
“Actually . . . I’m meeting someone, in just a little bit.” The lie slid out of George easily. His head was suddenly muddled by her close presence, by the smell of her skin, and he had an almost animal urge to escape.
“Oh. That’s fine,” Liana quickly said. “But I do have something I need to ask you. It’s a favor.”
“Can we meet somewhere? Maybe tomorrow.”
“Do you live here?”
“No, I’m just in town for . . . I’m visiting a friend, really. . . .It’s complicated. I would like to talk with you. I’d understand if you didn’t, of course. This was a long shot, and I understand—”
“Okay,” George said, telling himself he could change his mind later.
“Okay, yes, you’d like to talk?”
“Sure, let’s meet while you’re in town. I promise I won’t call the feds. I just want to know how you’re doing.”
“Thank you so much. I appreciate it.” She took a large breath through her nostrils, her chest expanding. George somehow heard the rustle of her crisp white shirt across her skin above the sounds of the jukebox.
“How did you know I lived here?”
“I looked you up. Online. It wasn’t that hard.”
“I don’t suppose you’re still called Liana?”
“Some people. Not many. Most people know me as Jane now.”
“Do you have a cell phone? Should I call you later?”
“I don’t have a cell phone. I never have. Could we meet here again? Tomorrow. At noon.” George noticed how her eyes subtly moved, searching his face, trying to read him. Or else she was looking for what was familiar and what had changed. George’s hair had turned gray at the sides, his forehead had wrinkled, and the lines around his mouth had deepened. But he was still in relatively good shape, still handsome in a slightly hangdog way.
“Sure,” George said. “We could meet here. They’re open for lunch.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not sure, but I’m not unsure.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Okay,” George said, again thinking that he could change his mind, that by agreeing he was only postponing a decision. Later
George thought that there would have been times in his life when he simply would have told Liana that he didn’t think they should see each other. He had no need for justice, not even any real need for closure, and for that reason George didn’t believe he would have alerted the authorities. The mess that she’d gotten involved in was many years in the past. But it was bad enough that she must have been running ever since, and she would have to continue running the rest of her life. Of course she didn’t have a cell phone. And of course she wanted to meet somewhere public, a bar at an intersection in a busy part of Boston, somewhere she could take off from right away.
“Okay. I can come,” George said.
She smiled. “I’ll be here. Noon.”
“I’ll be here as well.

My Thoughts:

This book starts of as we meet George Foss. His desperately wants to fall in love. Then one day his obsession from college reappears. But, in the book she is enigma and she might be involved in a murder that occurred a while back. She desperately needs George's help and he couldn't possibly turn her down. George then finds himself into a sticky situation which he doesn't know how to escape or really know what to do. I found this book to be very fast paisted and hard for me to put down. I enjoyed all the character 95% of the time.

I found George to be a bit desperate at times and that he was too hopeless. Nonetheless he is a good person. "She"(Liana) as the book refers to was very needy at times and I felt as if she didn't love him as much as he did because he (George) to me is the type of person that will stop what he's doing just for the woman he cared most about. Liana is very conniving and knows what to do and say at the right time. I found the author writing style very lovely as so in depth with everything it felt like I was talking to him in person. The plot was very intriguing its like an interrogations happening right at your toes.

This was a great read of 2015 and I must truly state that I enjoyed myself and what Swanson brought forth to the table. Swanson had me quite a bit confused and made me think outside of the box on who "she" was. I am still searching for answers on why events happened in the book and the order that they were placed in. Bravo because I cannot recommend this book enough to you all. Thank you so much for this great book Mr. Peter you did an amazing job.

Author Bio:

Peter Swanson is the author of The Kind Worth Killing, and has degrees from Trinity College, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, and Emerson College. He lives with his wife in Somerville, Massachusetts, where he is at work on his next novel.

Catch Up:

Tour Participants:

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours


Cover Reveal (s) Unleashed by Eileen Brady, Blood Sweeps by Steven F. Havill, and Shadows of Seth by Tom Llewllyn

☆Unleashed ☆

Dr. Kate Turner is happy with her new life in Oak Falls, upstate New York.  Working as a relief veterinarian at a small house-call practice, she truly enjoys helping her patients.  All that changes when client Claire Birnham is found dead, an apparent suicide. A talented artist, Claire had everything to live for: new job, Manhattan apartment, her Cairn terrier Toto. As feisty as the Wizard of Oz Toto, he and Claire were devoted. Kate can’t imagine Claire simply abandoning her pet. Was her death murder?  Questions end in the police arresting young kennel helper Eugene. The fragile friendship between Kate and police officer Luke Gianetti frays as she ignores his advice and keeps asking questions. House calls provide gossip and clues, some helpful, some not so much, as she treats her animal patients. Did Claire’s recent insurance windfall prove too tempting for her hard-working and hard-drinking mother? What does trouble in the art gallery where Claire worked signal? How huge a grudge did heavy metal rocker A.J. hold against high-school sweetheart Claire after she dumped him? Was Claire a threat to AJ’s rich new girl? Dr. Kate mixes real medicine with murder as she risks her life over Claire’s death, aided by insights from a former fire investigator, aka her Gramps. Unleashed is as irresistible as Muzzled.  

☆Eileen Brady☆ 

 Eileen Brady is a veterinarian living in Scottsdale, Arizona. She is a wife and mother of two daughters and often has to chase her six cats and two dogs away from her laptop keyboard. The Kate Turner, DVM Mysteries is her first series.  

◆Blood Sweeps◆

Gifted fifteen-year-old Francisco Guzman has become an internationally renowned concert pianist, touring the world under the auspices of his music conservatory. That gives his mother, Posadas County Undersheriff Estelle Reyes-Guzman, plenty of reason to worry--and that's magnified when she learns that he's in Mexico’s crime-ridden Mazatlan for a concert series where he may be the target for scam artists and kidnappers.  Estelle’s worries go from bad to worse when her uncle—a man she didn't know existed—surfaces in an attempt to mend family ties and leaves a trail of corpses in his wake. Estelle’s attempts to glean family history—the story of her childhood in Tres Santos over the border—from her adopted mother, a woman now in her nineties, go nowhere. Meanwhile, escalating events put Sheriff Bobby Torrez in jeopardy, as they do newly wealthy rancher Miles Waddell and his pet project, the multi-million dollar theme park, NightZone, set high on a county mesa.  Just when his sage advice might be most useful, former sheriff and family friend Bill Gastner takes a dive—in the shadows of his own garage. Now his far-flung family is added to the mix of people and events astir in the boot heel of New Mexico. 

◇Steven F. Havill◇  

Steven F. Havill is the author of 24 novels set in the American west. He lives with his wife, Kathleen, in Raton, New Mexico.    

                                    ♤Shadows of Seth♤

Sixteen-year-old Seth Anomundy is a product of his environment: in this case, Tacoma, Washington. What L.A. was to Chandler, Tacoma, a working-class port city now undergoing urban renewal, is to author Tom Llewellyn.  Seth has grown up in Tacoma's tough neighborhoods, where he's perfectly at home in Choo-Choo's boxing gym and Miss Irene's soul food palace, the Shotgun Shack. With his mom working nights as a cleaner, Seth goes to high school, gets decent grades, and makes money where he can: filling in as cook at the Shotgun Shack, working as a sparring partner, and running errands for Nadel, the clock repairman. Life is hand-to-mouth, but okay—until he gets the news that his mother has been killed.   The police don’t care about the death of just another drug addict, so a bewildered Seth takes it upon himself to find the killer. On a clock delivery run, he meets a beautiful rich girl named Azura Lear, who encourages Seth and tries to help track down the killer. But instead of finding answers, Seth finds only trouble. He faces down a gang of baseball-bat-wielding high school jocks and deals with the contempt of Azura’s suspicious father. And then there’s King George—a teenage thug Seth has previously managed to avoid— who has for some reason let it be known that he wants Seth dead. Right now. 

                  ♔Tom Llewellyn♔

Tom Llewellyn lives and writes in Tacoma, Washington. His first novel, The Tilting House, was published in the United States, Germany, and The Netherlands. He is cofounder of Beautiful Angle, a letterpress poster project. He works as a creative director during the day.            

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Blog Tour Book Review: Landfall by Joseph Jablonski

Title: Landfall

Author: Joseph Jablonski
Year: © 2014 (December 23rd)
My Rating: ♪♪♪♪♪/5
Genre: Fiction
Pages: 204
Format: Paperback
Sources: Pump Up Your Books
Publishers: Bacon Press
ISBN 13: 978-0-9913443-8-3


After a long career at sea, Jake Thomas thinks he’s finally put his life in order. He’s got a new wife, a new home, time to write and tend his roses. But his past and the secrets he’s kept, even from himself, won’t stay buried. Forty years earlier, a woman was murdered during Jake’s first voyage on the American freighter, the SS James Wait. Her children want answers only Jake can give. But resurrecting old memories takes him spiraling back to the chaos and upheaval of the late 1960s. In this riveting story-within-a-story, Jake’s peaceful routine in Portland, Oregon, stands in stark contrast to his days as a merchant seaman in Subic Bay, when he set off on a journey to discover his dark side. A journey that hasn’t yet ended. Like Joseph Conrad, Joseph Jablonski has created a novel set at sea that is as much a careful observation of human nature and a powerful condemnation of war as it is a fascinating sea story.

           ♟My Thoughts♟

First and for most R.I.P. to Joseph Jablonski. I loved his book. It was such a great literary fiction. Jake Thomas was one of my favourite characters and he mad this book come alive with his witty personality. The secret that he kept from his family intrigued me to find out what was happening. This mystery was well thought of and the murder tied it all together. You could tell that Jake was scared on his voyage and didn't really want anyone to find out. Another thing that I could see was this secret has been eating Jake alive and didn't really know what to do or who to tell. When his kids wan to know what really happen it bring up old nerves and is scared to tell anyone but has no choice.

From what I conclude Jake is a shy, peaceful, and humble man who keeps his emotions to himself which really make you want to find out more about Jake's personality. My favourite part if the story was when he went on his voyage to Subic Bay and uncovers his dark side along the way. This rally bring him out and I really enjoyed that. Seeing him transform from shy to evil you see him come out of his shell. This was a great sea story and sea voyage that must be recognized for its great captivating read. BRAVO to Jablonski and your talent won't go unrecognized.

If I could have the pleasure of meeting this author there were so many exciting questions I would ask about his work. This book really opened up my eyes to many breath taking books out there that I just cannot wait to read. This story helped me to see beneath a person and ghat you never really know a person till you see there best and worsts at times. Readers read this captivating adventurous book you will not be disappointed on what greatness it holds.

       ♟Joseph Jablonski♟

Though far from the open sea, Nebraska produced a man whose love of adventure led him from the Central Plains to become midshipman up to commander of the largest container ship in the American merchant marine fleet. Joseph Jablonski was born in 1948 and spent 30 of his 66 years circumnavigating the world on an odyssey that would bring him to test the limits of his courage and stamina. At age 50, Jablonski relinquished his role as captain for that of writer. This story, and Three Star Fix that precedes it, reveal the heart of a man engaged with the world, undaunted by its challenges, and at peace with his own nature.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Book Review: The Forbidden by Sarah McDonald

Title: The Forbidden
Author: Sarah McDonald
Year: © 2014 (June 27th)
My Rating: ♪♪♪♪♪/5
Pages: 264
Genre: YA
Format: Paperback 
Sources: Publisher
Publishers: Neverland Publishing Company, LLC
ISBN: 0090314839
ISBN 13: 9780990314837

                    The Forbidden

In a world where magic curses the young to serve under the powerful, a dark cloud hovers over a kingdom called Vestia.

The recipients of this magic are deemed Forbidders, bound to a life under authority, forced to exchange their youth for militarism. Long ago the people of this land celebrated magic and lived in peace under the watchful protection of goddesses known as the Fairest. But the Fairest have long since faded from history, leaving nothing of their magic but the remaining few born with powers that sentence them to a destiny as Forbidders. Now, a group of these students has united with the aid of a prophecy that they hope will destroy the government under which they serve. They search for twins born on the other side: Earth.

On the other side, a girl named Charlotte begins to dream.

Turning to her art to expel these strange images from her mind, Charlotte finds a kind of release; until her pictures are brought to life in the form of a redheaded girl. Believing she is the only one who can see this incarnation, Charlotte is plagued by terrible dreams from her childhood, resurfacing years later to torment and tease, leaving forgotten riddles in their wake. Only this time, she's not alone. Her classmates and close friends, twins Andrea and Perry, have become the target of some otherworldly forces.

An ancient magic stirs within a realm of forgotten beliefs and sleeping deities.

As she battles to control her own sanity and keep her friends from harm, Charlotte finds herself dragged along into a tangled, frightening, magical web where the answers to the questions of her life lie somewhere between two worlds.

                     My Thoughts

I was really impressed reading McDonald's work. She had a magnificent story line and no words can fit how truly captivating this author is. In this story we go in a fantasy world where magic curses the younger generation. In the book people are being protected to what is called the "Fairest", but they have now faded from history and only leaving a few borns with power. A group is then started by Forbidders. I must there because the story just keeps getting better.I loved the cover and the creepy tree on the back of the book. Charlotte begins dreaming and it is brought to real life.

I felt a connection with Charlotte because she was the chosen one. What really added a twist was the people she dearly loved are in danger and its up to her to figure out what she should do about it. While you read this book it just jumps out at you and is a bit terrifying at times. As I begin to branch out by different authors I can clearly see what amazing work that have put forward to us the readers.  I highly recommend this book to strong lovers of YA, you will not be disappointed by this great fiction book by McDonald.

                     Sarah McDonald 

Sarah McDonald was born in the small town of Huntsville, Ontario in the heart of beautiful cottage country. Writing has been a part of her life since she could hold a pen, and in her childhood you could often find her surrounded by books or writing letters to make-believe fairies. She always has said she'd love to become an author, but her inability to finish a story, on top of school and work, often left her struggling for time.

Now entering her final year of a degree in History, Sarah is proud to call The Forbidden the first installment of a Young Adult series. She has a love affair with fiction and film, as well as popular culture, and hopes to one day try her hand at screenplays. She also enjoys writing short stories, both fiction and creative nonfiction. Sarah loves examining magical realism, the supernatural, and overall depressing things, despite her cheerful appearance. She also hates writing things about herself.

Book Blitz: Valentine's Day Is Murder by Carolyn Arnold

Valentine’s Day is Murder
By Carolyn Arnold
Genre: Cozy Mystery

Book Synopsis

Jimmy finally takes a vacation--and a chance on love--only to be abducted. His female companion originally thinks he had cold feet about their relationship, but Sean and Sara know there’s more to it. Jimmy isn’t the type to just up and disappear, let alone leave a lady stranded.

Setting out on their private jet, Sean and Sara reach the tropical paradise of Ocho Rios, Jamaica with sightseeing as the last thing on their minds.

With a gold coin being their initial tie to Jimmy’s kidnapper, Sean and Sara even speculate about the involvement of pirates. Yet as the hours pass, and there’s no word from Jimmy’s captors, Sean and Sara will need to figure out the real motive before it’s too late.

With help from their friend, Adam, back in Albany, the pieces come together and not a moment too soon.

Strap in for an adventure that will take you to the beautiful island of Jamaica and have you wanting a piña colada.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Blog Tour Book Review: Kato and the Fountain Of Wrinkle by Rhys Ella

Title: Kato and the Fountain Of Wrinkle
Author: Rhys Ella
Year: ©2014
My Rating: ♪♪♪♪♪/5
Pages: 284
Genre: Fiction;Humor
Sources: Pump Up Your Books
Format: Paperback;Signed
Publishers: Tate Publishing and Enterprises, LLC


For famous animal actor Kato Rhyan, being named “Cutest Pug Alive” by Pooch Magazine was cool (all right, really cool). But for him, acting isn’t about fame, it’s a part of him buried deep within his soul; and he’s not about to let anything stand in his way of becoming the first animal to win an Oscar for Best Actor, even if it means taking on a role that requires a wrinkly dog’s worst nightmare – Botox injections. But before the injection process begins, it’s discovered that the Fountain of Wrinkles — located in his beautiful hometown of Callia Rugas — has been contaminated by Botox, jeopardizing the lives of crinkly canines everywhere and setting off a chain of events that force him to bid farewell to his dream and set foot on an adventure of a lifetime in search of the antidote to restore the Fountain. But as with any good Hollywood tale, the story that seems so apparent is not always the one that unfolds. The twists and turns that follow are sure to keep you guessing and laughing.

           "My Thoughts"

So the storyline of the book was interesting. It was good to branch out and read something with this much comedy. Its was cool to see everything in a dogs perspective, and I have to admit that brought out my inner child. It was good to tag along with Kato and his acting career. The part that made me laugh the most was his crazy, wild, and goofy brother EJ.

The characters were well thought of and I'm glad they have human like characteristics. The mom was very believable. She was nervous and scared and didn't want Kato to leave. He had a (goal/plan) and wanted to strive for his dreams no matter what it takes. EJ was just a silly goofy older brother who just makes you laugh by what he says and his actions.My mood was having a blast. I wasn't board. It made sense. Not to long and blown out. 

It had feeling that made me connect to what the author was writing. I wouldn't tell you how many times I laughed till I cried and disrupted everyone from sleeping.The authors writing style was good. I could see through her words what her concept was to write this book, which made me recognize her for the talent she has presented.I wasn't just intrigued, I was captivated into what was happening next. I never found a dull moment in this book. 

At first when I was reading it I was lost because I didn't understand the concept, but as you read more you begin to see it and understand what is taking place.Ella did a fantastic job with Kato and her talent must be shared along with her hard work. This is a good book you cannot past. When your feeling down or in the blue this book certainly belongs to you.

                      R.I.P. PRINCE KATO CHANG

                                              "Rhys Ella"

Rhys Ella, lover of all furry four-leggers, grew up in small town West Virginia surrounded by cats who believed they were dogs and pint-sized dogs with personalities larger than life. Today, Rhys lives in North Carolina with her husband, young son, and a fish named Hobo. An avid runner, the book’s concept came to Rhys during an evening run but did not fully come to fruition until the passing of her fourteen-year-old pug, Prince “Kato” Chang.