•°*”˜ Review Blitz & Giveaway ~ Betrayal by AS Fenichel ˜”*°•

Book Title: Betrayal (The Demon Hunters Series)

Author: A.S. Fenichel

Genre: Historical Paranormal Romance

Release Date: December 8,2015

Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

To survive as a scullery maid requires hard work, discipline, and a stiff upper lip. To survive as a Demon Hunter is something else entirely. Elizabeth Smythe learned this after she was captured by Demons and rescued by Hunters. Now a Hunter herself, Elizabeth's first task in this new and strange world is to aid the recently wounded Lord Reece Foxjohn, and get him back into Demon-slaying shape. . .

Reece Foxjohn is used to defying convention. He enraged his family by becoming a Demon Hunter, and prefers eviscerating the spawn of Satan to mixing with the ton. He is a man who doesn't hesitate when he knows what he wants, and what he wants is Miss Elizabeth Smythe. From the moment he set eyes on the fiery Hunter, he's wanted to claim her for his own. To watch her behead the progeny of Evil is to behold a thing of beauty.

Chapter 1

Below Edinburgh Castle, Elizabeth Smyth and Reece Foxjohn turned into the corridor to the head demon hunter’s office. She had to keep her wits through one short meeting.

Relaxed as always, Reece stopped mid-stride and gripped her shoulder. “Stop fidgeting, Lizzy. He’s not going to bite you.”

In spite of the cool autumn night, Drake Cullum’s order to report to his office had set her palms to sweating. Indeed, it happened every time she stepped into a room with him. “You don’t understand. How could you? Drake is all that stands between me and the street. If he decides I failed my training, I will have no place to go.”

“But that is not going to happen. We came to Edinburgh for a wedding, not a job evaluation. This meeting is just a formality because we are in town.” Shoulders straight, but not rigid, he held her gaze, his steady blue eyes perfectly framed by dark blond hair loose from its queue.

“Maybe.” She fought the urge to grip her sword hilt through the pocket cut in her skirt.

“Absolutely. Now take a breath and stop acting like a scullery maid. You are a demon hunter.” A grin spread across his angular face and he leaned against the wall.

It sounded so wonderful coming from him. Reece held legendary status among The Company. Even during his long recuperation from a demon’s poison, students would sneak by his sickroom to catch a glimpse of him. She’d volunteered to carry his meals and pick up the trays just to get to know him. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d seen the real Reece in all that time.

After pushing away from the wall, he walked around her and knocked.

“Come in.”

Drake Cullum occupied the lone chair in the book-lined room. He remained sitting when they entered, his eyes narrowed on an ornate knife resting atop the fine wood desk.

Determined to be brave, Elizabeth straightened her spine and stepped closer. The memory of the dagger threw her back to a musty church. She saw the strange tri-bladed dagger gripped by a bull-faced demon. Her vision narrowed to the point of the blade as it descended toward her throat. Her heart stopped. “What is that doing here?” Part of her wanted to run, but rage kept her glued to the spot.

Drake raised an eyebrow. “Do you recognize it, Elizabeth?”

“That’s the dagger they were going to kill me with. I’ll never forget it or the beast who wielded it.” The room closed in around her as the memories assailed her. Demons dragged her into the old church and strapped her to an altar. The stench of death filled the space. The durgot priest’s hot breath turned her stomach. His bull face only inches from hers with no way for her to run. Bindings cut into her wrists. The monster snorted long guttural words, and a chorus of demons repeated. She’d not known what his words meant, but they rang in her dreams every night. The dark metal dagger hovered above her throat. She was going to die by the hands of a devil. There would be no paradise for her soul. Damnation.

Demons screamed in agony as their flesh boiled. Steel clashed with steel and a feminine battle cry. The building crashed around her and in her hazy mind, hell swallowed her.

Drake spread a piece of fabric on top of the knife. “I apologize, Elizabeth. It did not occur to me that you remembered the events of your capture so clearly. I believed you were catatonic throughout the ceremony.”

With his hand on her elbow, Reece steadied her.

“I remember.” She took a breath and met her boss’s gaze. “I’m sorry for my outburst, Mr. Cullum. It surprised me to find the artifact here in plain sight. To be honest, I did not realize The Company had recovered the item.”

“Skane,” Drake said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is the Blade of Skane. At least that is what it says along the hilt.”

Fear blasted her confidence and became her greatest enemy. She removed the black cloth and examined the knife. “Where did it come from?”

“We assume the demons brought it with them.”

Reece circled the desk. “What is it made from?”

“We do not know that either. It is heavier than any known metal.”

The weapon had almost taken her life. “What do you think it is for? I cannot believe they only meant to use it for the sacrifice of four common women.”

Drake covered the blade again. “I agree, but we are still researching the full potential of the weapon.”

Her stomach knotted to the point of nausea, but it was only a knife, and there were no demons here. Besides, she could take care of herself now. No one would ever stuff her into a sack or drag her away again, at least not without a fight. Perspective helped to settle everything back into place.

A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back.

A.S. adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story.

Multi-published in erotic paranormal, contemporary and historical romance, A.S. is the author of the Mayan Destiny series, Christmas Bliss and many more. With several books currently contracted to multiple publishers, A.S. will be bringing you her brand of romance for many years to come.

Originally from New York, she grew up in New Jersey, and now lives in the East Texas with her real life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing she enjoys cooking, travel, history, and puttering in her garden.

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.¸¸.•*´¨*• Review Blitz & Giveaway ~ Pretty When You Cry (Stripped, #4) by Skye Warren •*¨`*•.¸

 

Book Title: Pretty When You Cry (Stripped, #4) 

Author: Skye Warren 

Genre: Dark Romance 

Release Date: 10/20/2015 

Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

 

 

 

“Dark, perverse, and unbearably erotic, Pretty When You Cry is Skye Warren at her gritty best.”

~ Anna Zaires, USA Today bestselling author of Twist Me

A new dark romance novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderlust and Prisoner…

I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.

My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.

That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.

****************

Author’s Note: Pretty When You Cry is a STANDALONE dark romance novel set in the dark, sexy Stripped series world. Not intended for those uncomfortable with the subject matter or under eighteen.

Books in the Stripped series

½. Tough Love (prequel)

1. Love the Way You Lie

2. Better When It Hurts

3. Even Better

4. Pretty When You Cry

So far a city looks exactly how I thought it would—gutted buildings and dark alleys.

A den of wickedness.

This morning I woke up on my floor mat in Harmony Hills. Sunlight streamed through the window while dust rose up to meet it. The white walls somehow kept their color despite rough dirt floors.

A desperate trek through the woods and a series of bus rides later, I made it to a city. This city. Tanglewood. It could have been anywhere. They’re all the same, all sinful, all scary—and the only thing that makes this one special is that I ran out of money for bus tickets.

My shoes are made of white canvas, already fraying and black from the grime of the streets. I made these shoes by hand when I turned twelve, and the heel on the left side has never fit quite right. But the bamboo soles lasted for years in the hills. Now they’re cracking against concrete. I can feel every lump in the pavement, every loose rock, every rounded hump as the sidewalk turns to cobblestone and then back again.

That’s not the worst part.

There’s someone following me. Maybe more than one person. I try to listen for the footsteps, but it’s hard to hear over the pounding in my ears, the thud of my heart against my chest. Panic is a tangible force in my head, a gritty quicksand that threatens to pull me down.

I could end up on my knees before this night is over.

But I don’t think I’ll be saying my evening prayers.

Men are standing outside a gate that hangs open on its hinges. They fall silent as I walk close. I tighten my arms where they are folded over my chest and look down. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me. It wasn’t true when I was little, and it’s not true now.

One of them steps in front of me.

My breath catches, and I stop walking. My whole body is trembling by the time I meet his eyes, bloodshot red in a shadowed face. “What’s your name?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

I jerk my head. No.

“Now that’s not very polite, is it?” Another one steps closer, and then I smell him. They couldn’t have showered in the past day or even week.

Cleanliness is a virtue.

Being quiet and obedient and small is a virtue too. “I’m sorry. I just want to—”

I don’t know what comes next. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to pretend the past sixteen years as a disciple of the Harmony Hills never happened. None of that is possible when I’m surrounded by men. I take a step back and bump into another man. Hands close around my arms.

A sound escapes me—fear and protest. It’s more than I would have done this morning, that sound.

I’m turned to face the man behind me. He smiles a broken-toothed smile. “Doesn’t matter what you want, darling.”

My mouth opens, but I can’t scream. I can’t scream because I’ve been taught not to. Because I know no one will come. Because the consequences of crying are worse than what will happen next.

Then the man’s eyes widen in something like fear. It’s a foreign expression on his face. It doesn’t belong. I wouldn’t even believe it except he takes a step back.

My chest squeezes tight. What’s behind me? Who is behind me that could have inspired that kind of fear? The men surrounding me are monsters, but they’re backing off now, stepping away, hands up in surrender. No harm done, that’s what they’re saying without words.

I whirl and almost slip on a loose cobblestone.

The man standing in front of me is completely still. That’s the first thing I notice about him—before I see the fine cut of his black suit or the glint of a silver watch under his cuff. Before I see the expression on his face, devoid of compassion or emotion. Devoid of humanity.

“We didn’t know she worked for you,” one of the men mumbles.

They’re still backing up, forming a circle around us, growing wider. I’m in the middle. I’m the drop, and the men around me form a ripple. Then they fade into the blackness and are gone.

It’s just me and the man in the suit.

He hasn’t spoken. I’m not sure he’s going to. I half expect him to pull out a gun from somewhere underneath that smooth black fabric and shoot me. That’s what happens in the city, isn’t it? That’s what everyone told me about the outside world, how dangerous it is. And even while some part of me had nodded along, had believed them, another part of me had refused.

There had to be beauty outside the white stucco walls. Beauty that wasn’t contained and controlled. Beauty with color. Only apparently I was wrong. I haven’t seen anything beautiful—except him.

He’s beautiful in a strange and sinful way, one that makes me more afraid. Not colorful exactly. His eyes are a gray color I’ve never seen before, both deep and opaque at the same time. The building itself is beautiful too with its wrought iron gate around a large courtyard. The fountain in the center is broken, but that only adds to the mystique.

The marquee sign reads Grand, a flash of neon pink against the black night.

He steps closer, the light from the sign illuminating his face, making him look even more sinister. “What’s your name?”

I couldn’t answer those other men, but I find something inside for him. I find truth. “I’m not allowed to say my name to someone else.”

He studies me for a long moment, taking in my tangled hair and my white dress. “Why not?”

Because God will punish me. “Because I’m running away.”

He nods like this is what he expected. “Do you have money?”

I have twenty dollars left after bus fare. “Enough.”

His lips twist, and I wonder if that’s what a smile looks like on him. It’s terrifying. “No, you don’t,” he says. “The question is, what would you do to earn some?”

Anything.

My voice is just a whisper. “I’m a good girl.”

He laughs, and I see that I was wrong before. That wasn’t a smile. It was a taunt. A challenge. This is a real smile, one with teeth. The sound rolls through me like a coming storm, deep and foreboding.

“I know,” he says gently. “What’s your name?”

“Candace.”

He studies me. “Pretty name.”

His voice is deep with promise and something else I can’t decipher. All I know is he isn’t really talking about my name. And I know it isn’t really a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Now come inside, Candace.”

He turns and walks away before I can answer. I can feel the night closing in on me, the sharks in the water waiting to strike. It’s not really a choice. I think the man knows that. He’s counting on it. Whatever is going to happen inside will be bad, and the only thing worse is what would have happened outside.

I hurry to catch up with him, almost running across the crumbled driveway, under the marquee sign for the Grand, past the broken fountain, desperate for the dubious safety of the man who could hold the darkness at bay. It’s the same thing that kept me in Harmony Hills for so long—fear and twisted gratitude.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s gritty, edgy, and sexy, served to you in the well-written, absorbing style that Skye is so talented at delivering. I can’t wait to get my hands on the rest of the Stripped series.” – Shameless Book Club

“A jagged, layered and enthralling adventure that weaves darkness and light with precision and purpose.” – the lusty literate

“It’s dark, mysterious, sexy, and I loved every page of it! There were twists and turns that I never saw coming! I love when an author is able to keep me guessing until the very end of the book.” – Book Fancy Book Blog

“Love The Way You Lie was heartwarming, exhilarating and tantalizing with just the right tinge of darkness.” – Warhawke’s Vault

Note: Pretty When You Cry comes out on Oct 20th. It is set in the Stripped world from previous books, but it is written to stand alone. Here’s the book on Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25705284-pretty-when-you-cry

 

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance.

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Thank you for reading! <3