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Monday, March 2, 2015

Very Twisted Thing by Ilsa Madden-Mills; Release Day Blitz

VTT_ReleaseDayAd

RELEASE BLITZ
Very Twisted Things
A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3

Author: New York Times best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills
Introductory price of $2.99 on release day for 24 hours only!
   

  
  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.

VTTt2

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 New York 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.
And then she did something completely crazy.
The lonely girl next door flipped me the bird.
© Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things


 


    SebastianT2 
  

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. 


BUY HER BOOKS HERE: http://amzn.to/1qNbF3y   

   Instagram: http://instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/     

  VTT Giveaway


  Hosted by SBR

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Very Twisted Things by Ilsa Madden Mills ; 5 stars Reviews



VTT_FrontCover_LoRes  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.   




I got this book in exchange of an honest opinion.

AMAZING. I have to start with that, amazing story, amazing characters, amazing drama, amazing all of it!
Ilsa once again outdid her self with this new book, this author just keeps getting better and better.
This book will take to places you don’t even know, feel stuffs that maybe it is not happening right now in your life but if it did, the way you would react toward them? yes she will go that far.

This book has drama, love, sex, forgiveness, hope and second chances. Its a complete book from page 1 to the last one. Lisa once again really did outdid herself with this book.

Sebastian and Violet. this book is about this two guys. Both with their past, a past they are trying hard to move forward and leave behind, this past will make the closer as a friend, as a couple, but it will also make them grown as individuals.

Violet is my girl crush, she is a violinist prodigy, she was lonely after losing her family, but she became strong, knowing that she was alive for some reason and accepting her second chance in life. She became powerful, she came the Violet her parents knew, the one that should have never left, but because she did left she is now a better version.

Sebastian Tate wanted fame, after what happened with him in his life, he was closed to love, because life wasn’t fair to him, he has decided to not open his heart. Yet he is caring with Violet, he loved her even if he hides it, they tried so hard to stay away from each other, he tried harder to not open his heart to her, letting her down and also letting his self down.

But loved finds his way out, and with the help of Violet, Sebastian opened his heart, giving it a second chance, even if he is scared he will fall he gave in, and they both make a beautiful couple.

This book in conclusion for me was perfect, full of emotions, just what I needed to read in the moment, its a real book, not just a fiction because Ilsa knows how to keep it real.





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. 


BUY HER BOOKS HERE: http://amzn.to/1qNbF3y   

Monday, February 23, 2015

Very Twisted Thing by Ilsa Madden-Mills ** Sneak Peek + Giveaway

 

Very Twisted Things

A Standalone Briarcrest Academy Novel #3
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!




VTT_FrontCover_LoRes  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.   

SebastianT2

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 New York 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

“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.
And then she did something completely crazy.
The lonely girl next door flipped me the bird.

© Ilsa Madden-Mills 2015 Very Twisted Things
VTTt2   

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. 


BUY HER BOOKS HERE: http://amzn.to/1qNbF3y   



VTT Giveaway

Friday, February 20, 2015

Unexpected Fate - Harper Sloan ; Blog Tour + Giveaway




Have you ever felt like you were living your life for a future that was predetermined? Like there was some bigger picture you just prayed you would someday see clearly? That picture has been crystal clear to me since I was old enough to recognize it for just what it was.
Or I should say recognize him for who he was.
I’ve loved Cohen Cage since I was a small child. He’s been my everything for the last twenty-two years. I’ve loved him through every girlfriend he’s ever brought home. Through his college years and then mine. I’ve loved him through two deployments. And ever since the day I told him how I felt, he’s acted like I’m a stranger.
My name is Danielle Reid, and it’s time for me to get my man.
Our future is an unexpected fate, and no matter what our parents, siblings, and friends say…it’s going to be worth every second of the fight to make it happen.


First of all let me start saying that I’m SO HONORED to have an ARC of this book, I was really happy when I got one! 
And Congratulation Harper for being this kind of author who simply knows how yo deliver a great a book, you are my TO GO, you never stop to amaze me, you always blow my mind, and I wish you keep having the best in the writer world because for sure you deserve it!

Lets know talk about Unexpected Fate.

As you know this is the story of Cohen and Dani, our baby boy Cohen who didn’t stopped talking about his girls, daddy’s wiener and stole our hearts with that red cape like a superhero. That Cohen is know grown up, super hot and a real life hero. I might have to confess I feel so mommy type reading about him, because just a few books backs he was my baby boy, my favorite kid, I re-read scenes of cage and uncaged over and over again, and reading him now, grown up all sex in pants, it was like YOU WERE MY BABY WHAT HAPPENED WHERE DID TIME GO? But then than all went away I just enjoy this hottie.

Dani grew up to be an amazing young woman, even if she had a dad so over protective, she has her own voice and she is not afraid to speak out, she is sweet, she also crack me up sometimes like in this scene …. 

“Well, she calls him protective. However, I call it possessive, overbearing, controlling, demanding, and jerky.”

“Daddy.”“Dani.” “I’ll cry.” “No you won’t. You have more balls than that.” “Want to bet?” 

It is really a great daughter and daddy relationship after all, and I loved every minute I had of it, it wasn’t perfect but it was beautiful.

Cohen, this big hot boy, is such an AMAZING character, he is caring, he is friendly, he is a lover and at the same time alpha, he want things his way and he will get it. Inside that big macho figure, sex in pants, is still the little boy with red cape and love and protection for his girl, just now that we add Dani to his girls list. I loved him then, I loved him now, he is simply a really great male, and I know that this quote applies to him “Treat me like a lady and fuck me like a slut’'
he definitely is that, a gentlemen and as I said a big alpha in bed ;)

PS. You see all the wiener talking and piercing talk of little Cohen, YES LADIES, he has a piercing in the wiener!

TO finish this review, this book was AMAZING, emotional, full of love, sexy, Harper Sloan knows how to write a sexy love story, it is my top 1 first read of the year, and I can’t wait to read about her I know for sure I will not be disappointed. She is a great author and I can’t wait for you to read her again or if you don’t know her, to finally meet this amazing lady.

I give this book 5 infinite stars! 








 “Dani-girl.”  His voice, that rich rumble of masculine excellence, washes over me and I shiver again before cursing under my breath.  The rumble of his low laughter tells me that he definitely didn’t miss that little move.
Kill me now.
“Hey, Coh,” I say with a smile.  “What brings you in?  Last minute, I might add.”  I pat the chair before walking around and holding the back while he sits down.
When his scent hits my nose, I almost come on the spot.  Lord, he smells good.  I wonder what he would smell like while his body covered mine, all sweaty from hours of good lovemaking.  I run my fingers through the longer lengths on the top and feel my cheeks heat slightly, thinking about doing the same when his face is buried between my legs.
“…needed a trim.”
Shit.  I missed what he said because, naturally, I was thinking about him naked.  Naked and thrusting into my body.  Naked and feasting between my spread thighs.
“You feeling okay?  I thought Nate said you were better?”
“Uh, I’m fine.  Just—is it hot in here?”  I fan my face and avoid his eyes.
He’s silent, so I take that as a sign that it’s safe to bring my attention back to him.
Big mistake there.  His knowing eyes are boring right into mine.  The chocolate depths sparkling in a way that makes it clear he has a good idea about where my mind was going.
“Did you hear what I said, Dani-girl?”
“Of course I did, Cohen.  What, did you think I was standing here daydreaming?” I joke.
“Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”  His eyes darken and he smirks a devilish grin.  “Did you know you talk in your sleep, Dani?” he asks, and I drop my comb.
Oh, God.  Shut up, shut up, shut up.  This is not happening.  No way.
“No, I don’t,” I childishly snap.
“Dani, you do.  So, yeah, I do think you were standing there daydreaming.  Want to know why?”  He uses his booted foot to move his chair so that he’s facing me, and then he leans in so that his face is dangerously close to mine.  Even when he’s seated, his head is almost level with my own.  Curse my horizontally challenged self.  “While you were zoning off into space with your fingers running through my hair, you had this smile on your lips.  The same smile you had the other day when you were dreaming.  About me, Dani.  And don’t deny it, because you don’t moan my name if you’re dreaming about another man.  Yes, Dani, you very much do talk in your sleep.”  He smiles again before leaning back and looking down to his phone.  “Clean up my neck please, cut the length off the top, and give me a buzz on the sides.  Other than that, you’re clear to continue with your thoughts.”
I must have been standing there like an idiot because he looks up from his phone, laughs to himself, and, with one tan hand, reaches out and pushes my mouth closed.
“You’re going to catch flies that way, Dani-girl.  One day, maybe you can clue me in on what those dreams are about.”
Drives me insane, the control he has over me.  There isn’t a single person in the world, other than Cohen, who can turn me into a ridiculously stupid, sputtering fool.  My normal confidence disappears.  And clearly, he isn’t as oblivious to my feelings as I originally thought.
How in the hell am I supposed to handle this?
Wait a minute.  Cohen or not, I’m not going to let him pull my strings when I know he is just doing this to make me feel uncomfortable.
So, time to call his bluff.
“Why?  You planning on doing something about it?”
He looks up sharply, clearly not having expected me to actually say something in return since he was going for shock value.
“Try me,” he demands, his voice thick and even deeper than normal.
I throw my head back and reach out to run my fingers thought his hair again, just barely suppressing the shivers.  Curling my fingers slightly so that I can grab a good hold, I lean in and pull his head back at the same time.  With my nose just a hair away from his and our breaths mingling together, I say, “Cohen, you couldn’t handle the truth of my thoughts when it comes to you and we both know it.  So how about you let me know when you’re ready for me to clue you in.”  I give his hair a light tug and smile when he swallows loudly and shifts in his seat.  “Ready for that trim?” I ask with a wink, and I’m rewarded with his groan.
I have no idea how I do it, but I manage to get through his cut without coming unglued.  I can see Lyn trying to get my attention from across the room.  Stella had to leave after she overheard my words to Cohen because her giggles were getting the best of her.  Cohen has remained silent the whole time.  His eyes though…  They’re speaking louder than his words ever could.
They haven’t left my reflection in the mirror since I started.  I can feel them every time I shift.  When I stopped to go grab another comb after I dropped my fourth one, I felt his gaze follow me across the room to Stella’s station.  The few times I stopped cutting to meet his eyes, the heated promise written all over his face almost did me in.  I almost just said ‘fuck it’ and climbed on his lap to have a go regardless of the people watching our every move.
I finish the last buzz of my clippers around his right ear and move to brush all the stray hair off.  “All done,” I say softly and unclip his cape.
He stands, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, and walks over to stand in front of me.  I continue to pretend I’m busy with the cape I just removed, brushing stray hairs off here and there, when his hand comes up, his finger and thumb hitting my chin, and my face is lifted until I have no choice but to look in his eyes.
“Do not tease me, Dani.  It’s not a game you want to play if you don’t intend to follow through.”
“I-I wasn’t… I wouldn’t,” I stammer.
“You did, and I have no doubt you’ll have the brilliant idea to do it again.  The next time you allude to those dirty thoughts I know you have about me, don’t think for a second that I won’t drag you to the closest bed to show you just how fucking dirty they’ll get.”  He leans close, his scent hitting my nostrils, and I involuntarily inhale deeply, earning me a rumbled chuckle.  “What you don’t know, Dani—because contrary to what you think, you don’t know me well enough to assume what having me would really be like.  But I promise you this: every little thought that you have had that causes you to moan my name while scissoring those perfect legs back and forth, praying for completion—it would be so much hotter than you could ever imagine.”  He gives me a soft, sweet kiss against my temple that has fire racing from that spot all over my body until it ends in the awareness that I’m pretty sure I just came in my pants.

 



Harper lives in small town Georgia just a short drive from her hometown of Peachtree City. She (and her 3 daughters) enjoy ruling the house they dubbed 'Estrogen Ocean', much to her husband’s chagrin. Harper has a borderline unhealthy obsession with books; you can almost ALWAYS find her with her eReader attached. She enjoys bad reality TV and cheesy romantic flicks. Her favorite kind of hero--the super alpha kind!


Harper started using writing as a way to unwind when the house went to sleep at night; and with a house full of crazy it was the perfect way to just relax. It didn't take long before a head full of very demanding alphas would stop at nothing to have their story told.