The Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax Volume 4 by Selena Laurence
Genre: New Adult, Romantic Suspense
The Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax is a six installment series that releases weekly through March 2, 2015.
Synopsis
Pax Clark is rock and roll royalty. The son of one of rock's most famous drummers, he wants nothing more than a career in music. But sometimes family can be a burden, and Pax is committed making it on his own. After legally changing his name, and taking off for a new town, he sets out to prove that he can be his own man.
Carly Nelson is eighteen and in trouble. Her father died leaving her a hundred thousand dollars in debt to a loan shark, and she's the collateral. When she meets her cousin's good friend Pax, the attraction is undeniable, but can he save her without risking everything?
The Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax is a six installment serial.
The Bittersweet Chronicles
Pax 1
Pax 2
Pax 3
About Selena Laurence
Selena Laurence is the Barnes and Noble Bestselling author of what she likes to call Edgy Contemporary Romance. Her books have been Amazon Top 10 bestsellers in multiple categories including Multicultural Romance, Hispanic Fiction, Urban Fiction, Military Romance, and Romantic Suspense. Her New Adult romance, Hidden, won the 2014 Reader's Crown Award for Contemporary Romance of the year.
Selena lives in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and spends a hell of a lot of time at soccer games, on her laptop, and reading. She requires a Mocha Latte every day to function, keeps a goldendoodle at her feet most of the time, and has more kids than she or Mr. Laurence know what to do with.
We’re dreaming of summer—feet in the sand, soaking up the sun, taking a dip in the pool—but what we’re most excited about this summer is the release of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s third novel, MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE (on sale July 7, 2015). While we (impatiently!) wait for the book, today we’re giving you a first look at the gorgeous cover! Plenty more information below…
ABOUT MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE:
At the age of twenty-nine, Hannah Martin still has no idea what she wants to do with her life. She has lived in six different cities and held countless meaningless jobs since graduating college, but on the heels of a disastrous breakup, she has finally returned to her hometown of Los Angeles. To celebrate her first night back, her best friend, Gabby, takes Hannah out to a bar—where she meets up with her high school boyfriend, Ethan.
It’s just past midnight when Gabby asks Hannah if she’s ready to go. Ethan quickly offers to give her a ride later if she wants to stay.
Hannah hesitates.
What happens if she leaves with Gabby?
What happens if she leaves with Ethan?
In concurrent storylines, Hannah lives out the effects of each decision. Quickly, these parallel universes develop into surprisingly different stories with far-reaching consequences for Hannah and the people around her, raising questions like: Is anything meant to be? How much in our life is determined by chance? And perhaps most compellingly: Is there such a thing as a soul mate?
Hannah believes there is. And, in both worlds, she believes she’s found him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Taylor Jenkins Reid is an author and essayist from Acton, Massachusetts. She is the author of Forever, Interrupted and After I Do. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Alex, and her dog, Rabbit. You can follow her on Twitter @TJenkinsReid.
by New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Release Date: March 1, 2015
This is a standalone New Adult novel with graphic sex and language.
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!
A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.
Description:
Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.
But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.
After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.
Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.
He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.
When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.
Prologue
Violet
“Fairy
dust is not real. This I know.” —from the journal of Violet St. Lyons
Boom!
I, Violet
St. Lyons, who once believed herself the luckiest girl in the world, was born
on the same day that the Violette–Sells comet was discovered. My parents, two
avid stargazers, said it was a sign of how special I was and promptly named me
Violet. They claimed my life had been blessed with fairy dust.
At the very
least, comet residue.
I’d
foolishly believed it for eighteen years, until the moment of my death.
Which was
now.
Boom! Another explosion rocked the
plane and metal ripped away as a section of the aircraft to my right vanished.
Luggage flew through the air. People disappeared. The mom with the baby who’d
sat in the aisle across from us—gone. The redheaded flight attendant who’d been
collecting trash—gone. Disembodied screams echoed from the surrounding
passengers as my own scream took up most of the space in my head. Air sucked at
us viciously from the outside as a tornado of people banged around the space
and one by one got pulled out into the swirling abyss.
I watched,
helplessly transfixed, as I sat between my parents, gripping each of their
hands as the plane we’d boarded six hours earlier for Dublin spiraled toward
the Atlantic Ocean. I was going to die. My mother was already dead, a twisted
piece of shrapnel sticking grotesquely from her chest as her head lolled around
her neck. Blood had already soaked her shirt, yet I refused to let go of her
hand. She’d be okay. We were always okay. We were the St. Lyons family of
Manhattan, an icon of old money wealth with deep political ties. Page six of
the NewYork Times featured pictures of us on a
monthly basis. We couldn’t die on a plane.
Reality
dawned as we plummeted. The yellow breathing apparatus dropped and dangled in
my face, taunting me with its pointlessness. Fire and black smoke boiled in
front of us where the cockpit had been, and my mind recognized that the pilots
had to be dead. Just a few minutes ago, they’d come over the intercom and
announced that the plane was making its descent into Dublin Airport exactly on
schedule.
Then the
first explosion had gone off.
Bits of
debris flew around, narrowly missing me. My elderly father grabbed my hand and
squeezed, his face drawn back in a horrible grimace. Fear and then horror
flickered across his face as he saw Mother, but there was no time to comfort
him.
Paralyzed
in my seat, we spun like a drunken top, and a part of my brain noticed the sun
was rising, its pink tinge lending a soft glow, catching the reflection of
clouds and making them silver-lined. The rocky coast of Ireland glittered in
the distance. Mocking me. We’d been headed there to celebrate my eighteenth
birthday.
Just then
my violin case flew past my head from the overhead compartment and crashed
against the wall of the plane. Shards flew. I shuddered and wanted to vomit.
God, help us. We were here because of me. Our deaths were my fault. I spared a
glance at the diamond promise ring Geoff had given me before we’d left. Would
the Mayor of New York’s son go on without me?
The air was
turbulent yet thin, and my chest tightened as dizziness pulled at me. I
resisted. Had to stay awake. Had to be with my dad. I was younger, stronger,
faster. My eyes went to the gaping hole in the plane. Had to think ahead. Plan.
Water would fill up the plane on impact, ensuring we’d sink rapidly.
My fear
escalated as the ocean rushed at us, its surface choppy and ominous. I took in
a giant breath and braced myself. We hit at an angle, the plane a torpedo as it
sliced into the sea. Daddy disappeared, ejected by the impact, and I yanked on
my seat belt, unclicking it to go after him. Heart thundering, I sent a final
look at my mother. I wanted to take her with me, but she was gone.
Water
everywhere, bubbling and gurgling as it filled up the plane. Salt water stung
my eyes. People floated by, some alive as they floundered for the opening. I
kept my gaze off the dead ones. Focus. Get out. Only seconds left.
I swam from
my seat and fought my way out of the large hole in the plane, lungs exploding.
Burning. I’d been under too long.
Daddy! I caught a glimpse of his red shirt
above me and kicked harder.
Up, up, up.
Must get up. My arms moved. My legs kicked. Excruciating pain. Ignore it.
Almost there. So close that I could see the daylight breaking through the
water.
The hottest
fire I’ve ever known lit in my chest. Scorching.
Air. Just want to breathe. Just get to
the top. Please.
My body
rebelled and I inhaled and swallowed water, the burn racing down my throat
making it spasm as I tried to cough it out. I struggled but took in more and
more, the cold liquid filling my lungs.
Dark spots
filled my eyes. This was drowning.
Exhausted.
Done.
My body
twitched. I grew disoriented.
I let go of
the fight. My hands floated in front of me.
Oblivion.
Darkness.
No bright
lights, no tunnel.
No heaven,
no mother, no father.
No comets.
No fairy
dust.
Chapter
1
Sebastian
Two years
later
“She was
music with skin.” —Sebastian
Tate
I tapped my
foot.
What was
taking her so long?
From my
backyard patio in the Hollywood Hills, I watched the odd girl next door with a
pair of high-powered binoculars. She flicked on her porch lights, and a low
whistle came out of me at the sexy red-as-sin robe she wore, its silky material
flashing around her long legs as she moved around her patio. Her hair was down,
too.
This was
new. Where were the usual yoga pants? The ponytail?
She looked
like she knew someone watched, but that was impossible since
our outside lights were off. Even the light from the moon hit our house at such
an angle that she shouldn’t be able to see us just by glancing over. She’d need
a high-powered lens to know I was here.
Usually she
played facing her rose garden, but this time she walked to the right side of
her patio, which faced us. Weird. But she didn’t play. She just
stood there without moving. Staring toward our house. Uneasiness went over me.
What was
she doing?
Could
she see me?
As if it
were a fragile bird, she positioned the violin under her chin and began
playing, arms bent and wrist poised, making the most exquisite sounds. And I
don’t mean classical like Beethoven or Mozart; I mean body-thrashing,
blood-thumping, hard-as-hell music that had me rooted to the ground, like she’d
slapped iron chains on me.
Dark and
seductive notes rose up in the air, and I got jacked up, recognizing a Led
Zeppelin song, only she’d ripped its guts out and twisted it into something
electric. She pushed the bow hard, upping the tempo abruptly, her movements
controlled yet wild. My pulse kicked up and my eyes lingered, taking in the
slightly parted toned legs and the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her
arms to manipulate the strings.
Her body
arched forward in a curve, seeming as if she might break into a million pieces
before she finished the piece or climaxed first. Then, her robe slipped off her
right shoulder, exposing part of her breast. Creamy and full, it quivered,
vibrating as she moved her arms. Her rosy nipple teased me, slipping in and out
of the folds of the material, erect from the cool mountain air and deliciously
bitable. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her
like my guitar until she begged me to—
Stop, I told myself just as an
appreciative groan came out. Whoever Violin Girl was, she didn’t deserve me
lusting after her while she was pouring her heart out with music.
I zoomed in
as far as the binoculars would go, watching her surrender to the music as she
bent and swayed from side to side with her eyes closed, black lashes like fans
on her cheeks. Every molecule in my body focused on her, hanging on to each
note she pulled from her instrument.
She
finished and kept her head bowed for the longest time, perhaps letting the
emotion wash over her like it had me. Then, she bowed to the banana trees and
gnomes in her garden, waving her hands in a flourish as she rose.
The entire
event was surreal, yet poignant as fucking poetry.
I let out a
deep breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
Who the
hell plays Stairway to Heaven with a violin? She did.
Bam! She snapped her head up, her eyes
lasering in on mine, making every hair on my body stand at attention.
And then …
Standing
there in the moonlight, she untied her robe and spread apart the sides ever so
slightly, her movements seeming almost hesitant, as if she’d had to work
herself up. Unfamiliar jealousy hit me and I panned out and checked the rest of
the patio, expecting to see a lover. Whoever it was, I wanted to rip him apart
piece by piece.
And didn’t
that thought surprise me.
My gaze
searched her patio, the backyard, her upstairs balcony. Nothing. No one.
She flicked
her dark hair back and stroked the lapels of the robe, her fingers lingering
over the lacy material. Suddenly the evening smacked of something more than
just music. Her arms moved back and forth across the front, opening the robe
halfway and then closing it as if she couldn’t make up her mind.
My eyes
went up, trying to read her face. Still as a statue, the only movement was her
mouth as it trembled, her full upper lip resting against the pouty lower one.
Tears ran down her face, but they seemed more of a defiant act, her jaw tightly
set, her shoulders hunched inward as if she’d held it in too long and was
giving in, but not without a fight.
Violin Girl
was trapped in a cage of darkness.
It still
didn’t stop me from holding my breath, silently begging her to bare herself to
me. She’d already laid bare her music. Part of me needed the rest of her.
She jerked
the robe closed, making me groan in disappointment.
New York Times and USA Today best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.
When she's not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.
She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.
Jo Walsh has loved Cameron Mitchell for as long as she can remember. Whether front and center in her life or on the periphery, the tall, brooding artist has made his presence seductively and irresistibly known. But whenever they start to get close, Cam pulls away. Jo's tired of keeping her feelings in a box Cam is afraid to open. If he wants her, he'll have to prove it. And if he doesn't, Jo will need to know the real reason why . . .
. . . become the love of a lifetime?
How do you walk away from your soul mate? Cam wishes he knew. No matter how far he runs from Jo, he can't resist looking back at the silver eyes that seem to see right through him. But as well as Jo thinks she understands Cam, the dark truth about his past is something she shouldn't have to handle. Cam's sure that setting Jo free is the right thing to do. Too bad his heart has other ideas . . .
At thirteen years old, Jo had fantasized about her first kiss. In her mind, it would be with Cam. She had practiced on her pillow and French-kissed her hand. She had positioned herself just so during Spin the Bottle, but Cam’s bottle had never landed on her. He’d never even hinted that he’d wanted to kiss her, that he fantasized about her, too. So all she’d had were daydreams. And in those daydreams, Cam nibbled at her lips. Slipped his tongue into her mouth, shy as she was. He was gentle and careful.
This was not that kiss.
This kiss was made of sweet smoke and embers. It sizzled on her lips and seared her senses until she could only feel and taste and touch and see him. The whole universe whittled down to this man completely possessing her with a kiss. Sucking her tongue into his mouth. Pulling her lips between his teeth for tantalizing bites.
Cam walked them backward with slow, measured steps until he eased onto the bench, never leaving space between their mouths. He pulled her bare legs to either side of his hips, pressing against her back until her breasts were crushed against his chest. He lowered his head, nudging the straps of her camisole aside with his lips and sucking on her naked shoulder. Jo moaned, tipping her head back until her hair rained between her shoulder blades. Cam pushed the camisole down around her waist and pulled her breast into his greedy mouth. With every pull of his lips and tongue, she rolled her hips against him, a steady, sensual syncopation that shoved Jo over the edge. She took shelter against his chest, gripping his neck, huffing hot air into the collar of his shirt. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and her body released in shivers and whimpers and shudders.
She stilled little by little, falling against him, limp and pliant. Cam pushed her hair behind her shoulders, raining kisses over her collarbones and nipples until they peaked and begged for his mouth again. He suckled at her, sliding his hands inside her shorts, squeezing her butt and urging her against him.
“Cam, I just—”
“I know.” He looked up, anointing her nipples with his words. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want it again and again and again.”
Review
I absolutely adore this agnsty, emotional series.I literally devoured all three books in two days;
thank goodness I was fortunate enough to have all three books in my possession!
I have to mention that I love that the author doesn’t sugar coat
these characters lives, she makes them seem like real people…their ethnicity,
their past history...it’s not all roses and sunshine; they are human, they
make mistakes…and that’s one of the things that drew me into this series.4.5 stars.
Awww…poor Cameron Mitchell, a miserable
childhood and a failed marriage has left him shattered.The past two books briefly touches Cam’s past but when we finally get to experience his pain,
it is simply so raw and heartbreaking.The
one constant Cam has is Jo, one of his best
friends since childhood….is it possible that after countless women, that Jo was
the woman for him all along?
I’d never been accepted just for me. Love just for me. Not even by my own
mother, Jo. You can’t understand what that is like.”
A definite recommendation from me if you love books that are
emotional and make you feel.The writing
was perfect, the characters likeable, and the story kept me intrigued until the
very last page.Be Mine Forever was a perfect
wrap-up to this series!
*Reviewed by Brandi
Kennedy Ryan writes contemporary romance and women's fiction. She always give her characters their happily ever after, but loves to make them work for it! It's a long road to love, so sit back and enjoy the ride. In an alternative universe and under her government issue name, Tina Dula, she is a wife to the love of her life, mom to a special, beautiful son, and a friend to those living with autism through her foundation Myles-A-Part, serving Georgia families.
Her writings on Autism have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, and she has been featured on the Montel Williams Show, NPR, Headline News and others. She is donating a portion of her proceeds to her own foundation and to her charitable partner, Talk About Curing Autism (TACA).
Her interview series MOMMIES DO THE MOST AMAZING THINGS is featured each month in Modern Mom.
*** Mature Content; Strong Language; Strong Sexual Content with m/f, m/f/m, and a taste of f/f/m***
She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Pure class. Old money. I never stood a chance... until she broke up with her dickhead of a boyfriend and went off the rails.
Brannon Forrester doesn't expect much from life. He coasts through aimlessly. No real ties. Nothing to hold him back. Hanging out with his best friend, lead singer of a local bar band, he lives for pleasure, out of the spotlight but with all the excess of the band's small-town fame. After all, why should he be good when the only woman he really wants will never give him the time of day?
Then, one night at an after party, Sophie Buchanan walks through the door. In an attempt to throw caution to the wind and dream out loud, she looks to him as a guide to the wild side. As someone who can show her all the excitement and recklessness her world has been missing. He plunges her into a reality of fervent passion... and heartbreaking betrayal.
Their roles have been set. He has only ever been a good time. She has only ever been a pretty face. It would be insane for them to fall in love. But when emotion complicates lust, can the caution of the mind suppress the will of the heart?
I think it was the shirt that sealed the deal that night. It seemed to get me laid more often than not, really. Big white block letters that said “Orgasm Donor” across the black fabric that, to be quite honest, was maybe a size too small. Fortunately, I was six feet three inches and had the muscular bulk to carry it off.
I leaned against the counter that separated the open kitchen from the great room. The house was pretty massive, but when you had four guys and a shit ton of equipment to keep handy, you needed a pretty big place. Not very clean, though, which you’d expect considering the band members that lived here. More of a party spot, a place to sleep off the raucous lifestyle. And it was my home away from home when the confines of my own mediocre apartment started feeling a little cramped.
It had been a long week at the garage, difficulty in finding parts, people not wanting to pay their bills, all kinds of shit. My grampa had left me the business that had supported his family for fifty years. Back when I was a teenager, I’d spent enough time with him to know the headache that it entailed, but this week had just really sucked. Maybe he should have left it to my sister. She was the steady one, the responsible one. I was, well… not.
I was only twenty-four, for fucks sake.
So I scanned the room to see who might be willing to slip away and entertain me for the evening. I needed to lose myself. I was pissy and tired, which meant I needed to fight or fuck, and fucking would hurt less in the morning.
Laura was eyeing me from across the room. She wasn’t too bad the first time, but I was a little concerned that she might start getting clingy if I gave her much encouragement. I couldn’t deal with clingy. It was hard to be fun when faced with clingy, and I kinda liked being fun. I didn’t want to be an asshole, but sometimes asshole was the only language clingy could understand.
Looking on through the crowd, it occurred to me that Pauline looked pretty hot tonight. And, bonus, she was a bit more laid back about things. I’d actually done her a couple times, and she was far from clingy, mostly because she sort of seemed to like variety. She’d also done Denny, Justin, Cody, and Drew.
And Maggie.
One night, she did Drew and Maggie… together. From what Drew told me, that was kinda how he and Maggie hooked up in the first place. I took a swig of my beer wondering if I was up for her tonight. She was quite adventurous. But then Justin sidled up beside her and proceeded to start sucking at her neck.
I’d shared with Justin once before. Sadly, I barely remembered the girl, which sort of made me feel shitty, but I had been really drunk. I’d just finished off just over half of a bottle of Jack. And it had been dark. The whole experience was a bit of a haze. Not one I was sure I wanted to repeat.
I scoped out the room a bit more. As big as the place was, it was damn near wall-to-wall, and people were still showing up. I saw Lily walk in and considered her for a second. I’d never had her. Cody had, and he seemed to think she was worth another round sometime. She turned back to the door, still open behind her, and motioned for someone to follow her. And then, she walked in.
Sophie fucking Buchanan.
What in the actual fuck was she doing here?
For a second, I thought I was seeing things. Not only was she here, at a band party, but that preppie dickhead boyfriend wasn’t with her. She looked different. Way different. My first thought was that Lily had likely given her a slutty makeover. Thick black eyeliner, ruby red lips, her blonde hair wild and full and falling in luscious waves around her bare shoulders with bright streaks of pink and purple and blue. Her little strappy shirt displayed the top curves of her breasts and ended just above an incredibly short, tight skirt. A skirt that ended a few good inches above some killer thigh-high boots.
Boldly holding Sophie’s gaze as she locked onto mine, I did the whole smolder thing that generally made panties drop all over town. Her head tilted a bit to the side and, even from a distance, I could see a flush color her cheeks. I could see her breath catch.
She glanced down at my shirt, and for just a moment, her eyes showed a faint hint of shock. She quickly schooled her features, though, masking her expression as Lily murmured something into her ear. Sophie looked over at her pensively, then glanced back in my direction. Lily told her something else which made Sophie shake her head ever so slightly. Then she took a deep breath, grazed her tongue across her lips, and left Lily to weave her way through the crowd.
Towards me.
And I felt a huge surge of blood rush right to my junk.
The closer she got, the harder I got. I’d only ever seen her from a distance, and she was way hotter than I’d thought, even under the thick make-up. I could imagine her plump lips wrapped around my cock. My mouth watered to taste the smooth, buttery skin of those spectacular tits. As she stepped up to me, I realized that her eyes were almost a deep blue-green, not the baby-blue I’d imagined, and I wondered how they’d look all heavy with lust as she rode me to exhaustion. The tousled blonde of her hair framed her heart-shaped face, the multicolored streaks grazing the opalescent bare skin of her shoulders.
She stepped up to me and glanced pointedly back down at my shirt. I prepared myself for a scathing comment. Every time I’d seen her before, she simply oozed class. Money. Style. High society, and, once again, I could only wonder what the fuck she was doing here.
I coolly took a sip of my beer, tipping the bottle back between my thumb and forefinger, and waited for her to talk. Lowering the bottle, I offered it to her. A dare. A test. She hesitated just a second before taking it and, not taking her eyes off mine, sucked it back.
Oh... The way her lips curved around the bottle had my already dirty thoughts turning truly sordid. Those lips would feel awesome wrapped around my dick. With the first taste, she hardly contained the clear indication that she rarely, if ever, drank beer. The tip of her tongue slipped out to catch a stray drop as she tilted the neck of the bottle to touch the letters on my shirt.
Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana exploring the dusty Old West gold country on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse beginning in 1st grade & had the same teacher until she changed schools after 7th. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Deveraux & Lisa Kleypas. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She is a true romantic & always has stories floating around in her head, living in a fantasyland until she writes them down to free them.
Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-loving mother, Sibylla was raised to treasure music that digs deep into the psyche, drawing out elation, sorrow, grief, desire. The soundtrack to her life includes many genres spanning centuries. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually… but, really, how can you NOT be crazy about this guy!? Jared Leto. Shhh. ) & pimps them out to all her friends through Spotify. She also delights in Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater & hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte. Sibylla lives with her husband and hero who saved her from her own calamitous, young-adult self. He makes her laugh daily, even when things are tough. He’s proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 18 years, they have never had a fight, although argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer & not a stand-up comedian). They live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers & little yap-dogs? OK, maybe not so quiet.
They were always taught that family was about more than
blood, but when step-siblings Sophie Ellis and Logan Castle meet for the first
time, their attraction is instantaneous. Forever trying to keep each other at
arm's length, they discover that sometimes the best laid plans fall apart, when
lovers fall together.
He's everything she's ever fantasized about, and everything she can never have.
She's all he's ever wanted, but never hoped to have.
Trying so hard to be his stepsister, she can't shake the
attraction she feels.
He decides it's best to leave, but when circumstances see
them reunite, and he discovers their initial attraction is still there after
all the intervening years, he can't help himself. He has to have her.
Running scared, she cuts all ties.
Left behind, his bitterness grows.
When again circumstances force her back into his arms, her
past comes back to haunt her.
He's
determined to make her pay for leaving him.
Desires are forbidden. Loyalties are tested. Hearts are
broken. And in the end, is love strong enough to conquer all?
**This
book is a stand alone. It is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, due
to explicit scenes, language and situations.
Stepbrother, Mine has several factors I look for in my books...forbidden/taboo love, angst, and just all around great potential to suck me in and not let me go until the very last page..but if I'm honest this one just didn't do it for me. There just wasn't enough story here...enough to make me connect to the characters...and if that would have all been there, the book could have been amazing because I could have really "connected" to the characters and their feelings. 3 stars.
Sophie and Logan meet for the first time at their parents wedding. They are just teenagers when they first meet and do not realize who the other is. Their attraction is immediate, but of course there are obstacles in their way and they resist giving into their feelings. When tragedy strikes , everything changes....years pass before they even think about giving into their feelings...but is it to late, has their time passed?
Like I mentioned above, this one just fell flat for me. Things were rushed and I just couldn't connect. I will mentioned that parts of the story were well written. This is just my honest opinion, please don't let me opinion stop you from reading this book....everyone reads a book differently.
Author Bio
Mandy Lou Dowson was born and raised in a small town in Ireland, in 1983, and at this stage in life, she's pretty sure the town won't let her leave. Family is a huge deal to Mandy. She has three wonderful children (most of the time), and two Siberian Huskies who are each as naughty as the other – in fact, she's sure they egg each other on in silly cartoon voices when nobody is looking.
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“Climb out the window and get covered in mud.”
“No, I did it last time. You do it!”
“R'uh, r'oh, here SHE is. Shhh.”
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When she's not writing, reading, or plotting her next book -- or, you know, world domination – , she likes to relax with a few glasses of wine and some karaoke. You can usually find her procrastinating on social media of some sort, chatting to fans and talking nonsense.
Mandy started reading at quite a young age and her appetite for the written word has only increased with time. It would not be at all surprising to find her reading anything and everything from shampoo bottles to Edgar Allan Poe.
She is the author of three different genres of romance books. The Moon Bound series, which is in the Paranormal Romance genre, and is gathering rave reviews, and the Taboo series, which is Contemporary with a hint of the forbidden, the first of which has gathered very mixed reviews across the board, from one extreme to the other.
She has also made a foray into Dark Romance recently, with her first title in the genre, Retribution, releasing in Summer 2015.
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