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Welcome to the Booking Glass!!!
Ok I think I'm ready to write this review! Once again, LL Collins has given us an amazing emotional read! This book is different from her others in that it's more YA! That didn't stop her from totally pulling my heart out & stomping it!!
We have Blake & Liane who were raised together & best friends for as long as they both can remember! Every summer the two families meet at the beach in Florida for a vacation. In between that time, they write & occasionally talk on the phone. Understand that this is mid-late 90's so cell phone are not a common thing! When they were 14 they meet up & things changed! Feelings changed! Blake expressed his feelings & scared Li away! She then spent 4 years avoiding face to face contact! In the mean time, she starts dating this douche pants, Ronan. Ronan was frustrating & infuriating! I wanted to throat punch him through out the book!
After they decide to take a break, Li decides to go meet up with Blake before they go off to college. I was so excited for this meet up! Feelings were shared! Love was professed! BUT will it last? Can it last? UGGHHHH!! After 2 weeks they go back home & all hell breaks loose!
Ronan steps up & proves his douche bag status! Communication is void since it's the 90's & cell phones are pretty much non-existent! When life gets in the way along with more douche pants tactics, Li finds herself not in a good place! She's forced to do the unthinkable! What will happen to her & her future? Can her & Blake defeat the obstacles & live happily ever after? How far will Ronan go to get the woman he loves??
This book has me all up in my feelings! I need Twisted Tomorrows like NOW!!!
What if your soul is so intertwined with someone else's that it's impossible to imagine yourself without them?
Blake McIntyre and Liane Kelly’s families have spent their vacations together on Sanibel Island their entire lives, and the two have always been the best of friends. But as they get ready to go to college, they admit that friendship isn’t enough for them anymore and spend a whirlwind two weeks daring to dream of their future together.
But building sandcastles and lazy beach walks filled with moonlight kisses isn't the same as real life, and soon they are faced with a new reality. Can their hope of forever survive past their summer, or does fate have its own twisted plan?
LL Collins is a teacher who loves spending her days in the Florida sun with her husband and boys, reading, and writing. Her love of writing has found a home in the self-publishing world. Living Again, Reaching Rachel, Guarding Hearts, and Finding Forever are available now in both eBook and paperback. LL has been writing since she was old enough to write. Always a story in her head, she finally decided to let the characters out and start writing and try to make her lifelong dreams of becoming an author come true. She has been a teacher for over ten years, a wife for 15, and a mom to two boys, 12 and 10.
Author: New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only! Very Twisted Things: http://amzn.to/1DEhDbS
A beautiful violinist who lives next door…The obsessed rock star who watches her... And the one night she bares it all.
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, Sebastian’s 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.
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 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 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. I pictured my mouth there, sucking, my fingers plucking, strumming her like my guitar until she begged me to—
Stop, I told myself. 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.
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.
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.
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.
Author Bio
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’s addicted to dystopian and all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroines. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.
She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.
When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.
What happens when the man you’re married to isn’t the man you married anymore? Clove Calloway knows within an hour of picking up her husband Turner from
the airport that something is different. Yet she can't pinpoint what. Together since college, they know everything about each other. So why has she spent
the last few days watching everything he does, hoping for a clue?
What could have happened within that week he was gone?
One way or another she's going to find out.
When Clove ene
enlists in the help of her brother Zack, a police detective, she’s afraid her suspicions of infidelity will be confirmed. Terrified that such news will
crush her heart, she sets about preparing for the worst.
Only to find it's much more than she could have imagined—there is no other woman.
Clove’s life is about to descend into a web of deceit, lies and betrayal.
Appearances can be deceiving… and only the Master Manipulator will be left standing.
“The eyes only see what the mind is prepared to comprehend.” – Henri Bergson
Blurb:
Jordie Thomas is looking for something to take his mind off of the woman he let go—or rather, pushed away—and the terrifying prospect of what will happen if his broken leg doesn’t heal. He’s ready to get back to his family and fellow teammates on the Nashville Assassins and get back onto the ice. However, with his injured leg in the way and his mind clouded by a certain woman, he needs a break that’ll help clear his head and his heart. With New Orleans in his sights, can this player—on and off the ice—find a way to get back to the crazy and reckless life he used to live? Find out and follow along as author Toni Also takes readers on one wild journey in this Assassins novella.
Night Shift Anthology releases on March 17, 2015. 6 NEW novellas from Toni Aleo, Kindle Alexander,
Sawyer Bennett, Chelle Bliss, Eden Butler, and Brenda Rothert.
100% of the proceeds will be donated to the Keith Milano Memorial Fund,
PanCan.org, and the Nashville Predators Foundation.
Toni Aleo is the author of the Assassins Series, Bullies Series, Whiskey Prince, Let it be Me, and the Spring Grove novels. She lives in Clarksville, TN with her husband, and two beautiful children. She enjoys taking pictures, writing, shopping and going to as many hockey games that she can!
From some of today’s New York Times, & USA Today Bestselling Authors comes the FEARLESS ANTHOLOGY with all royalties being donated to VETSports.org. VETSports in a non-profit organization, who help combat veterans to better their physical, emotional, & mental health through sports, physical activity, & community involvement.
One flicker of a flame ripped my life apart. For two years now my body has defied my will to live and although the shell of my existence still roams this ungodly world-my heart died along with my wife and son. Their blood is on my hands and living my meaningless life carefree is the ultimate punishment of my self-conviction.
Never lettin’ friends get too close to identify my pain, I suffer in the confines of my own heart, quietly. All they see is the mask-the humbled, empathetic man. Not the guilt stricken tortured soul I truly am.
Until her.
Our worlds collided like vehement waves of the perfect storm thrashing through the sea. Neither of us expected it, but both of us need to be saved from our own pain and destruction.
But the ship sailed too fast.
Fear and confusion consume me and I make the mistake of leaving her lost at sea just when she needs me the most; just when her greatest predator would strike.
Strugglin’ to survive through the wreckage my heart has been battered with, I have to battle my feelings and decide if I’m prepared to fight the darkest pits of hell to save her and Mend the Seams of her fragile heart or let her go completely. After all, she ain't even mine to claim.
Silla Webb is a Kentucky native, raised in the heart of the Eastern Kentucky coal fields. A coal truck driver's daughter, and a railroader's wife, the coal fields own a special place in her heart.
Silla is a work at home, Super Momma to three rowdy boys, who keep her on her feet from daylight to sunset. As a pass time from her everyday life, Silla started a blog-Momma's Secret Book Obsession, for reviewing romance novels. From there, she realized that not only did she have a natural love for reading and reviewing, but she found that lost love of writing that she once had as a young girl.
When she isn't conquering the world as a wife, momma and Super Woman, Silla loves to lay on the front porch swing and read while sipping sweet tea, just passin' the day away.
The angry hatred that fills my bones for every damn last
Simon out there.
Retribution.
The starving need to avenge the life I was cheated of.
My father-Matthew Varney was heinously murdered when I was
only three years old. Since learning the truth about his death at fourteen, and
the identity of my real father-the man directly responsible for his demise, I
have hungered for retribution.
Shame hindered the truth of his only son’s existence, but
once he exhaled his dying breath-the plan for my revenge was set in motion. As
the sins of the father devour me, the darkness consumes me whole. With each
life scarred and ruined at my hands-my control of the situation slips further
from my grasp. I crave the blood that spills onto my hands. Debts are due to
me, and I am willing to crawl through the depths of darkness to claim the
retribution of that I seek.
I am the bastard son of Big John Simon and this is my story.
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