Showing posts with label gothic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gothic. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

"Reach for You" by Pat Esden

INTERVIEW and GIVEAWAY
Reach for You
(Dark Heart Book 3)
by Pat Esden


Reach for You, the third and final book in the Dark Heart series by Pat Esden, will be released on 27 June but is currently available for pre-order. Also available: A Hold on Me (on sale for $2.99 to 2 July; read my blog post) and Beyond Your Touch (on sale for $3.99 to 2 July; read my blog post).


This book tour is brought to you by Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for my interview with the author, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Her passion is her greatest weakness.
His legacy is his prison.
To reunite, both must fight the demons within.
A world of deception and danger separates Annie Freemont from her mother - and from Chase, the enigmatic half-ifrit with whom Annie’s fallen in love. But she vows to find her way back to them, before Chase succumbs to the madness that threatens his freedom. The only person who can help is the magical seductress, Lotli, a beautiful, manipulative woman ... a woman who has disappeared.
Annie must stay strong, even as the future she imagined is slipping away. With the help of family and friends, she discovers that Lotli is being held against her will, by those who want to exploit her powers. But though weakened, Lotli remains a powerful alley and adversary. A bargain is struck. And now Annie’s only chance to rescue Chase could also tear them apart ...
Loyalties will be tested, walls will be breached, and enemies will be fought, yet Annie’s greatest battle lies within her own heart - to trust her love for Chase to overcome its greatest enemy, and to save those she holds most dear from the terrifying realm of the djinn ...


Excerpt
Chapter 1
We journey. Ceaseless and hungry.
Carved into stone tablet. Tenerife, Spain
The campsite was ominously silent. Then a breeze lifted and my ear caught the faint clank and rattle of the bones and knives hanging in the pine trees behind us.
“You don’t think they’re both dead, do you?” Selena whispered.
I scanned the dilapidated camper ahead of us, a do-it-yourself RV created out of an old bread truck. Despite the midafternoon warmth, the doors were shut tight. The tent behind it, barely visible from our angle, bowed under the weight of rain that had pooled in its canopy. There was no campfire smoke. No trampled grass. In comparison to when we’d come here last week, the place looked deserted.
Goose bumps pebbled my skin. I gave the camper another once-over. “Zea was really old and sickly. He could have died—or if the kidnappers came here first looking for Lotli, they could have found him. They might have—”
Selena cut me off with a glower. “You mean, supposed kidnappers.”
My jaw clenched. Yeah, that was exactly what I meant. I understood why my cousin didn’t like that everything we’d discovered pointed to her boyfriend, Newt, being involved in Lotli’s disappearance, and perhaps Zea’s as well. But I thought we’d gotten past that, like a bunch of times already.
I swiveled toward where we’d parked our Land Rover. The Professor stood rooted next to it, a mixture of disgust and apprehension crinkling his face. From his scholarly glasses and sandy brown hair all the way down to his polished loafers, he looked anything but ready for our reconnaissance trip out here on the back roads of Down East Maine. An afternoon of research at Oxford University would have been more appropriate. “You want to check inside the tent while we look in the camper?”
His gaze flicked to the soggy tarps. He cleared his throat, then—as posh as ever—said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally against the idea. But the thought of discovering a rotting corpse is a teensy bit abhorrent.”
“Would you rather discover one in a closed-up camper?” I snapped. It was lucky we’d driven into the campsite from the main road instead of walking like we’d done the last time.  I’d assumed the Professor had an adventuresome spirit to go with his young Indiana Jones good looks. Especially since he was an archaeologist, though this summer he was tutoring Selena’s eleven-year-old brother as a favor. Still, and despite how eager he’d seemed to come with us, the Professor had freaked the second we started past the creepy stuff Zea and Lotli hung in the trees to scare people off: the knives and bones, pieces of copper pipe, broken mirrors, and doll parts. Frankly, I was surprised he’d even gotten out of the Land Rover at all.
I pasted on a smile. “Sorry. I don’t much care for the idea myself. Let’s just hope he’s napping or something.”
The Professor wiped his hands down the sides of his chinos. “I truly hope you’re right.”
As he headed for the tent, I tramped toward the camper with Selena close behind. If only Chase were here now. The creepy stuff hadn’t bothered him at all, and the fear of Zea being dead would have only driven him forward faster.
My chest tightened, my longing for Chase aching inside me, raw and unrelenting. If it weren’t for me, he would be here now. Instead, both he and my mother were trapped in the djinn realm, prisoners of his father, Malphic. If it weren’t for me, Lotli wouldn’t be missing either.
“Well?” Selena jerked her head at the camper door. “Are you going to just stand there?”
I raised my hand and knocked. One second passed. Two seconds. I rapped harder. Nothing. I tried the doorknob. It turned beneath my grip. I opened the door a crack, hesitated, and took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.
A wave of hot, musty air rushed past me as if the camper had been closed up for days.
“Hello?” I said, sticking my head inside. I gave the air a cautious sniff. No dangerous odors, like a leaky gas stove, permeated the air.  No rotting-trash smell—or decomp.
Selena nudged my shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
I swallowed hard and stepped forward.
The place was cramped, a gypsy wagon on steroids. Tassels and prisms curtained the windows, letting only faint streaks of light inside. Miles of fuchsia and turquoise fabric draped the ceiling and walls. Animal skulls, feathers, and nubby candles clustered inside miniature altars. The fridge, table, and chairs, every surface that wasn’t fabric covered, was painted purple or black. Stars decorated the ceiling. An antique bed piled with crimson quilts and an avalanche of pillows took up the camper’s entire backend. It was cozy enough, I supposed. But I couldn’t begin to imagine what life had been like for Lotli, apprenticed to Zea as a child because of her magic abilities, essentially indentured. Not that I thought a devout shaman like Zea would have been cruel to her. It was just so different from anything I’d experienced.
“Zea, are you here?” I called out. “We need to talk to you about Lotli.”
I minced my way deeper into the cramped space, working my way toward the back of the camper. Cold sweat carved a trail down my spine. I crept past a tiny kitchen and dining nook, then the bathroom—one toothbrush in the holder, a washcloth draped over the edge of a yellowed sink.
I returned to the front of the camper and pulled aside the curtain that divided the living area from the bread truck’s cab. Seats for the driver and a passenger, seashells glued to the dash, insulated coffee cups in the holders—
Something brushed the back of my neck.
I yelped and jumped sideways, whipping around to see what it was and smacking my elbow against the wall. Pain zinged up my arm. I glared at Selena, standing barely an inch behind me.
“Shit,” I said, rubbing the sting from my arm. “You scared the hell out of me.”
She gave me a sheepish pout. “Sorry. I thought you knew I was there.”
“I didn’t think you were that close.” It wouldn’t have hurt half as bad, except I was already sore and bruised from being thrown out of the djinn realm earlier in the day.
Her pout transformed into a smug smile and she flipped her blond hair over one shoulder.  “Looks to me like Zea and Lotli might have pulled a vanishing act after all. Huh?”
I stopped rubbing. “Or the Professor’s about to find something disgusting in the tent.”
“Want to bet?”
I closed my eyes, struggling to regain my composure. We couldn’t afford to waste time discussing the same thing over and over again, any more than I could have afforded the luxury of staying home to nurse my aches and pains. Chase and Mother were in danger. And I couldn’t go back to the realm and rescue them until we found Lotli. Without her and her flute-magic, it would be too risky, perhaps even impossible to enter or escape from the realm.
I shoved past Selena and strode to the tiny bathroom. “While we’re here, we should find something personal of Lotli’s that you can use to scry and see where they’re holding her.”
Glancing around, I spotted a scruffy hairbrush. You couldn’t get much more personal than that. I grabbed it and brandished it toward Selena.
She stood just inside the bathroom doorway, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “Cut it out, Annie, I’ve had enough of you talking like Newt kidnapped Lotli, the innuendos and little jabs. Maybe his family’s hiding something, but Newt doesn’t have anything to do with it. So quit acting like he’s evil, okay?”
I mirrored her stance. “He told you his dad was a stockbroker, that they owned their summer home. Those were lies. His brother is a registered creep. No matter what you want to think: Newt’s not innocent.”
She turned her back on me, her voice bordering on hysteria. “I don’t know why I bothered coming. You’re so, so . . . You always have to be right—” Her voice died and she slowly faced me. Angry red blotches mottled her face. But tears rimmed her eyes.
My anger drained. She didn’t look pissed. She was trembling like she was about to fall apart. Earlier today, when we’d first heard about the lies Newt and his family had been telling, I’d seen something in Selena’s eyes, something beneath her disbelief.
“What is it? Tell me,” I asked gently.
She raked her hands over her face. “Nothing. You just need to trust me. I know Newt couldn’t be involved. And he wouldn’t have let his brother do it either.”
I leveled my gaze with hers and toughened my voice. “What makes you so certain? Tell me the truth, Selena.”
Her chin quivered. “I just know.”
Tucking the hairbrush handle first into my hip pocket, I stepped closer. I pushed her hair back from her face. “You’re my cousin. Please. Tell me.”
“Nothing. He just wouldn’t do it. He loves me.”
“I get that. But—”
She shoved my hand away. “No, you don’t get it. I know he loves me. Like forever.”  Her eyes pleaded for me to understand what she couldn’t bring herself to say.
A possibility seeped into my head.  My hands went to my mouth, covering a horrified gasp. She couldn’t mean. She couldn’t have.  “What did you do?”
“I kind of—I put a . . .” Her voice faded and she looked down at the floor.
“A spell?” A month ago, the idea of witchcraft being involved would never have occurred to me. Now it seemed more than likely.
“You can’t tell anyone. Mom, Dad, Grandfather—they’d kill me.” She curled her arms over her head, her shoulders shaking as she crumpled down against the wall.
I crouched and put my arms around her. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. It can’t be that bad.”
“It is,” she sobbed.

Praise for the Series
"What a fantastic ride! Full of mystery, action, and romance." ~ Kim Karr, New York Times bestselling author
"Twists and turns, a hot guy, and a family with too many secrets to count: the perfect read for a dark and stormy night!" ~ Jen McConnel
"A dark and sexy adventure, mixed with a refreshing twist. Well done!" ~ Rachel A. Marks
"Deliciously dark." ~ Publishers Weekly
"A major and unexpected paranormal threat adds freshness to Esden’s page-turner." ~ Booklist


Interview with the Author
Pat Esden joins me today to discuss her latest book, Reach for You, the third and final book in the Dark Heart series.
For what age group do you recommend your book?
I’d recommend it for 17 years and up. It does have some R-rated sexual content.
What sparked the idea for this book?
Reach for You is the third and final book in the Dark Heart series. The idea for it came to me when I began to brainstorm A Hold on Me (Dark Heart, book 1). I wanted the series to end with Annie, the main character, finding her HEA, but I didn’t want it to come easy. To me, the struggles Annie goes through in this book are both emotionally devastating, challenging, and the logical conclusion to the other books.
So, which comes first? The character's story or the idea for the novel?
I get an idea first. Then I play with that seed and create a main character who would be challenged by the setting and situation.
What was the hardest part to write in this book?
It was hard to write the final chapter in Reach for You. I’ve lived with these characters and world for a long time. It was a strange feeling to know I was about to step away from them.
How do you hope this book affects its readers?
I always hope that my novels inspire readers to fight for what they want, no matter how large or small.
How long did it take you to write this book?
I’m contracted with my publisher to write my novels in a nine-month time frame.
What is your writing routine?
I work on my novels for several hours in the morning and then again in the evening. After noon is my downtime.
How did you get your book published?
I went the traditional route. I worked hard on my writing. Queried agents. Signed with one, then my Dark Heart series went out on submission to editors. It was picked up by Kensington Books.
What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer?
Keep working on your writing skills and don’t give up. Grow a thick skin. It may take years, but you will reach your dreams.
What do you like to do when you're not writing?
My husband and I are also antique dealers. I love going to flea markets and yard sales with him. I also spend a great deal of time gardening and playing with my Golden Retriever.
What does your family think of your writing?
They are very supportive of my writing career and I’m very grateful for that.
That's great. Did you like reading when you were a child?
As a young child, I much preferred to have books read to me. I loved closing my eyes and pretending I was a part of the story. I discovered the joy of going to a library and picking out my own books when I was probably in fourth grade. That’s when my love of reading really bloomed.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
Probably before my love of reading started. I started writing stories and poetry in third grade - not just in school but for fun as well.
Did your childhood experiences influence your writing?
Very much so. I spent a lot of time at my family’s wilderness camp, exploring old house and cemeteries, and in the woods. Those things combined with my love for fairytales and fantasy, sparked my writing style and tone.
Which writers have influenced you the most?
Hmmm. I usually talk about authors who influenced me as a child and teen, but there is one author whose death made me cry. That was Octavia Butler. No question she touched my heart when I was first striving toward becoming a published author.
Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say?
I don’t hear very often. But it truly means a lot to me when readers take the time to say kind things in reviews, emails, or in a comment on my social media pages. Last night, a new reader’s comment on my Facebook page gave me a lift right when I needed it. Writing can be a lonely profession. It’s wonderful to know when a reader connects with your characters and stories.
What can we look forward to from you in the future?
I have a new series coming out from Kensington’s Lyrical Press starting in 2018. The Northern Circle Coven series, set in contemporary Burlington, Vermont, centers around a disreputable coven and the stories of three strong women who are determined to save it and themselves from past mistakes.
Sounds great! Thank you for taking the time to stop by today, Pat. Best of luck with your future projects.


About the Author
Pat Esden
Pat Esden would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade. She’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.
The first two novels in her Dark Heart series, A Hold on Me and Beyond Your Touch, are available from Kensington Books. Reach for You (Dark Heart Book 3) will be released 27 June. Her short story, "Black as a Dark Moon, Scarlet as Sumac", will come out this September in the Fragments of Darkness anthology.

Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a paperback set of the entire Dark Heart series or a gift certificate (US only).

Links

Monday, March 27, 2017

"Beauty of the Beast" by Rachel L. Demeter

REVIEW and GIVEAWAY
Beauty of the Beast
(Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1)
by Rachel L. Demeter


Beauty of the Beast, the first book in the new Fairy Tale Retellings series by Rachel L. Demeter, is currently on tour with Promo Stars Services. The tour stops here today for my review, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.

 
For more books by this author, please check out my blog post on The Frost of Springtime and my blog post on Finding Gabriel.

Description
Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story - retold with a dark and realistic twist.
A beast living in the shadow of his past ...
Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.
A beauty in pursuit of a better future ...
Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle - unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.
Beauty and the Beast ...
Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more ...
Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice.
Note: This is an edgy, historical romance retelling of the classic fairy tale Beauty and the Beast. Due to very strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.


Book Video



Excerpt
~ The East Tower ~
Arms sprang out from the darkness. They spun her full circle and slammed her body against the king’s portrait. Isabelle gasped, more in shock than from pain, as she stared into Adam’s deformed face. The lantern flickered behind his massive form, casting his cloaked body in silhouette. But she saw enough to know he was far from pleased. Rage and frustration radiated from his body like a palpable force.
“I warned you to stay out of here,” he said, his voice dangerously cold and deep. Those rugged vocals vibrated against her body and seeped into her marrow. “What part of forbidden didn’t you comprehend?” His voice lashed out from the darkness like a hurtled knife, and the word “forbidden” seemed to whisper another meaning altogether. Isabelle tried to answer but failed to find her voice. Indeed, her vocal cords had turned to solid ice, as numb and cold as the blood rushing through her veins. She couldn’t breathe; she felt like she was suffocating.
“My mother gave me that musical box on my fourth birthday,” he said, the sensual lull of his voice causing the fine hairs on her nape to stand erect. “And now your recklessness has destroyed it. Have you nothing to say?”
“I—I’m sorry.” He offered no reply; only the ragged sound of his breathing and the hammering blizzard broke the silence. “Please—I didn’t mean any harm.”
She struggled under the weight of Adam’s colossal body and battled to free herself. He merely gave a low chuckle and pressed her firmly against the portrait. He looked otherworldly at that moment, like an angel of death seeking vengeance. Both beautiful and monstrous, his cool, sapphire eyes overflowed with warring emotions. In spite of his harsh and ruthless exterior, she detected a quaver in his voice and saw that his large, cloaked shoulders trembled. The darkness in his soul cast a shadow that embraced her; as she peered up at him, she knew he was drowning in the turbulent waters of a past time.
“What a disappointment,” he went on, his voice growing deeper still, mocking her words from so many days ago, “You’re like any other woman.”
“I—I’m sorry. Please, Adam. I—” Her gaze shot past his body and over the wreckage of a past life. She thought of her private chamber again—of the stale perfumes and outdated garments.
Her flight or fight instinct seized hold of her. She attempted to scramble free, but he merely grabbed her shoulder and whirled her back against the portrait. Gloves wrapped his hands; his long, silk-clad fingers grasped her shoulder and kept her firmly in place.
He stood intimately close.
Far too close.
As close as Raphael had been that night.
“Going somewhere, ma belle? After you’ve worked so hard to find my East Tower?”
Hands like two steel bands held her wrists in place. Hot breaths, which faintly smelled of wine, seared her cheeks and assaulted her senses. Her breasts flattened against the pressure of his strong chest, and she felt that same chest swell and deflate in perfect sync with her own. One large hand slipped down her elbow and glided across her extended arm. The lush material of his gloves drew a shudder from her heaving chest. His breathing grew more ragged, shallower, and the erratic beat of his heart banged against her own.
Anger and desire warred on his face, twisting his features into a mess of both monster and man. “Find anything of interest, aside from my musical box? Come, come. You went through such great trouble to get here,” he asked, his voice now threaded with both anger and something else.
Yes, Isabelle recognized that something else. It was the same note that had entered Raphael’s voice that night…
She attempted to duck under his arm, but he moved swiftly, capturing her in the crook of his elbow. Reeling her toward him, he emitted a low, haunting chuckle that swelled the eastern tower to its rafters. She was back where she’d started—pinned against the portrait, Adam’s body serving as a flesh-and-blood blockade.
Hunger radiated from him, enfolding her in a current of sizzling power. His silk-clad hand grazed the curve of her breast as it moved down her body in a painfully slow caress. Even more alarming was her reaction to him. Her treacherous body responded with a crush of hot and cold pulsating waves. Then he whispered a taunt in her ear, and his liquid baritone slid down her backbone like honey; it swirled inside her, finding its home in her most intimate area.
He leaned closer still. His face’s uneven skin brushed against her neck, the black waves of his hair tickled her chin... His thick arousal expanded against her, reminding her of what he was capable of—and of her sheer vulnerability.
His lips teased the base of her throat. Cursing her traitorous body, Isabelle gasped at the gentle scraping of his teeth. His tongue and lips tormented her throbbing pulse—just barely, stirring her skin in a mere ghost of a touch.


[Want more? Click below to read another excerpt.]



Praise for the Book
"Another Fairy Tale grows up, gains some dark realism and proves that without love, even a saint can become a beast from within their heart and that love can make anyone beautiful in the eyes of those who love them. Rachel L. Demeter has shown her writing chops once again as she turns an already dark tale into an edgy read that will rock you back on your heels." ~ Tome Tender Book Blog
"Absolutely beautiful. A perfect retelling of one of the most famous fairy tales. This version doesn't involve talking teapots or enchanted roses, but this retelling is still beyond magical." ~ LYLY 5 STAR BOOKS
"5++ enchanting stars. This book is so beyond anything I could have ever expected. The author recreated the original Beauty and the Beast story with a sexy and dark edge and I completely LOVED it. Rachel L. Demeter's writing is just beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, my kindle is literally FILLED with highlights." ~ Katie's Book Blog
"I loved Ms. Demeter's Finding Gabriel, so I when I saw her Beauty of the Beast, I jumped at the chance to read it! The fact that it was a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, my favorite fairy tale, only made me want to read it even more - and wow - was it good. Although good is too weak a word to describe it, it really was amazing and I positively loved it!" ~ A Hopeless Romantic's Booklandia
"Once I started reading it ...I. Could. Not. Stop!" ~ The Booknatics


My Review

*Contains spoilers*
Beauty of the Beast is an original adaptation of Beauty and the Beast that reads like a historical romance, with a touch of The Phantom of the Opera and Cinderella, and even references to The Sleeping Beauty and The Frog Prince. The story starts in 1808, in Lavoncourt, in the fictional Kingdom of Demrov. Prince Adam Delacroix is only eleven years old when revolutionaries set fire to his family's palace, killing his parents. In an attempt to save his baby sister, Adam is disfigured by fire. And when she dies, something in him dies, too.
"As he felt her spirit fade away, he too felt a part of himself disappear. His body grew cold and numb, resembling an empty shell."
Flash forward to twenty-five years later, in Ruillé, Demrov, where we are introduced to Isabelle Rose, an avid reader and book lover.
"She flipped through her book’s well-loved pages, allowing the sentimental words to wrap her soul and lift her into another time and place."
Isabelle's love of reading stems from hearing the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty and "true love's kiss" when she was only six years old. When things become difficult, Isabelle retreats from reality into her imaginary world.
"Once again, Isabelle allowed herself to slip inside the fabric of her dream world—a beautiful realm of make-believe."
She lives with her ailing father and her two younger stepsisters and is engaged to Vicomte Raphael Dumont, a nobleman of dubious reputation. Of this marriage of convenience:
"She realized that to save her loved ones, she’d need to sacrifice much more than her flesh and happiness. Alas, by the time this nightmare ended, she’d be forced to sacrifice her very soul."
Isabelle's father says of her deceased mother:
"... was she a beauty like I had never seen. Indeed, her beauty stole half my wretched heart. Her spirit stole whatever remained. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her... Nothing we wouldn’t have done for each other."
Isabelle wants to experience a love like that. But it's a dream she is willing to sacrifice.
"Finding true love. It was a dream Isabelle was willing to sacrifice if it meant buying a couple of more precious years with Papa."
In a final, desperate attempt to escape from the cruel Raphael, Isabelle uses the excuse of the annual Merchants' Fair to leave town with her father.
"The Merchants’ Fair was the perfect excuse to land a carriage and the necessary funds; she would use Raphael, that cold-hearted fool, just as he meant to use her."
When Raphael violates her, she vows to get her revenge.
"She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know when; somehow, someway, she’d make Raphael pay for his unthinkable cruelty."
Feeling scarred and ruined, Isabelle is not too different to Adam.
"She’d never recover from Raphael’s assault should she live to see a thousand years. She still felt what he did to her—and not inside her poor heart where it pained her so. Where Raphael was concerned, her heart had turned to stone months ago. Non, she still felt it physically, inside the depths of her sore and bruised body. He’d ruined and scarred her, both inside and out."
Raphael gives Isabelle a carriage and money, and she escapes with her father. They stop for the night at what appears to be an abandoned castle. But its residents are a hooded man and his enormous beast of a dog, Stranger the wolfhound. When she finally catches sight of his face,
"... he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen."
Of course, this man is Adam Delacroix, who like the salamander of his family crest, has risen from the fire.
"Adam knew she saw him as a hideous monster—and he was precisely that. The countless years of solitude, of reliving the horrors of that night over and over, had eaten away at his soul, leaving an ugly shell in its wake."
That night, Adam imprisons Isabelle's father because
"... the old man had repaid his mercy with thievery."
But Adam agrees to release him the next day and let Isabelle stay in his place. Unfortunately, Isabelle's father dies during the night, and they both blame themselves.
"What have I done?"
Isabelle calls Adam a monster, but
"... those weren’t the eyes of a true monster. They held far too much emotion, too much heartache, as if they bore all the world’s sadness. Those eyes belonged to a man. Nothing more, nothing less."
As for Adam,
"He’d found his own words, his own personal mantra, long ago. Never trust. Never forget. And never forgive."
"He could never love again. Love demanded a considerable degree of trust, and after his family had been betrayed all those years ago, he’d lost his faith in others."
Will Adam ever lose his beastly nature and learn to love again?
Isabelle and Adam are similar in so many ways. His love for music and her love of books are their escape from the real world. Slowly, as their trust in each other grows, so does their love for each other.
"I suppose we aren’t so different, after all."
And the fitting climax brings everything full circle.
"Behind them, the fire steadily grew and raged, consuming the library."
The story is told from multiple points-of-view, but mainly from Isabelle's and Adam's. The author creates a great Gothic atmosphere, aided by writing in an old-fashioned, historical style. As you can tell from the many quotes I have chosen, the writing is generally excellent. However, the story is a bit slow and repetitive towards the middle, there are too many references to Adam's "sapphire" eye color and his scent of "pine and winter" (how does winter smell?), and the main lovemaking scene goes on far too long (about 30 minutes of reading). I was also a bit disconcerted by the author's repeated use of "fire" references used to describe the lovemaking. I don't know if this was deliberate or inadvertent but, to me, it felt insensitive to Adam's condition. There are few editing errors, including historical inaccuracies (in 1808 or earlier, Adam's piano tutor taught him the "greats", including Debussy who wasn't born until 1862 and Ravel, who was born in 1875). I'm not a fan of epilogues, in general. However, this one, set seven years later, is just perfect.
An original fairy tale adaptation with beautiful writing, emotional scenes, and interesting characters.
Warnings: coarse language, sex scenes, sexual assault.

Some of My Favorite Lines
"Rosemary’s cries fell quiet a heartbeat later. It was the loudest silence he’d ever heard."
"The music pulsated through her veins and lit a fire inside her soul."
"The castle was a wild beast that would swallow her whole at the slightest provocation."
"... the final note floated in the air and swirled around them, sweeter than honey from the comb."
"On nights such as these, the castle transformed into a living entity with a will of its own."
"Laughter erupted from Isabelle’s lips. The sensation felt liberating, freeing. When was the last time she’d laughed? She couldn’t recall. The revelation both thrilled and saddened her."
"The endearment sounded like liquid velvet sliding from his tongue."
"In Isabelle's mind, few things were as romantic as the feel of a book in her hands. The smooth, slightly embossed face of the cover. The scent of words and parchment that wafted toward her with each flip of the page. And the countless possibilities and adventures that lay between the covers. "
"Since I was a girl, all I’ve ever wanted were books. I used to wish I could live inside them, that I would fall asleep and wake up somewhere else as somebody else. It was my escape, my personal haven. Papa used to say that so long as I had my books, I’d always be free."
"I know these walls are filled with shadows. But that doesn’t mean you have to live in darkness."
"The soft melody of her voice reached out to him—more beautiful and tempting than any musical piece."
"He played her body like an instrument, his masterful fingers and tongue seducing her to sing for him ..."
"The earth and horizon joined in perfect union, a marriage so complete it was almost impossible to see where one ended and the other began."


Playlist



About the Author
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California, with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader's emotions and explore the redeeming power of love.
Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel's passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul.
Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness.
Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.


Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win an ebook copy of Finding Gabriel by Rachel L. Demeter.


Links