Sunday, January 22, 2017

Sunday's Safe Word Shelf: Half a Man by Scarlet Blackwell


Summary:
In a world torn apart by war, solace is hard to find… 

It is 1919, less than a year after the end of the First World War and a recovering Britain is in the grip of the influenza pandemic. Times are hard. Victory came at a price for everyone left behind.

Crippled veteran of the Battle of the Somme, Robert Blake, is looking for someone to ease his nightmares of France. He carries never ending guilt over the fate of his commanding officer in the trenches. He turns to educated rent boy Jack Anderson for physical solace.

Jack didn’t go to war but faces struggles in his own way, selling his body to earn enough money to survive. The two are drawn inexorably together from the start, not expecting how deeply they will soon become immersed in each other’s lives.

Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.


Followers of my reviews now that I absolutely love historical tales so when I saw this was a post-WW1 story, I just hoovered it up as it's one of my favorite time periods.  Having one of the main characters wheelchair bound drew me in too, my grandfather was in a wheelchair by the time I was born, he wasn't paralyzed but he couldn't walk(he had MS) so when I see a character like Robert, my interest is piqued even further.  Throw in Jack, a book shop clerk/rent boy, doing what he has to to survive, and you have a recipe that screams "TRY ME!"  So I tried it and loved it.  Half a Man may be a bit shorter than I would have liked because there were areas that could have been expanded on to make it an ever greater tale, but those missed scenes did not detract me from not being able to put it down.  I've never read Scarlet Blackwell before but it most certainly won't be the last time, I look forward to checking out her backlist.  A truly inspiring story that proves you're never too broken to experience life to the fullest.
RATING: 


February, 1919
Jack Anderson watched from the window, agog, as the car swept up the tree-lined driveway to the country manor. The house perched atop the grounds, as though overseeing its environs, leaded windows flashing in the wan winter light. Despite the tidiness of the gardens, the driver’s expensive livery and the ostentatious car, something about the house suggested neglect, dereliction. He was shown into the grand house by the butler and waited patiently at the foot of the sweeping staircase while the man took his hat, gloves, scarf and coat. Jack looked at the paintings on the walls, the marble floor, the glittering chandelier, and the vast corridor stretching out before him. All was silent, the atmosphere closed and still. He coughed nervously. Really, most of his business was dealing with rich men, but he wasn’t sure he had ever been to a house quite like this before.

“This way, sir.” The butler led him down the hall.

Jack followed, wiping damp palms on his jacket, telling himself this was no different from any other engagement.

The butler opened the door to a large living room. “Mr Jack Anderson, sir,” he announced loudly, as though his employer was deaf.

“Thank you, Clarke,” came a soft voice.

The butler stepped aside and looked pointedly at Jack. Jack hurried inside, crossing the hardwood floor swiftly. The door closed behind him and Jack stood looking at a man in a wheelchair.

Sitting down, it was difficult to tell, but he appeared tall, his body lean in a smart dark suit with white shirt. His black hair was brushed back neatly from his pale face with brilliantine and his eyes were an unusual mix of grey-green. He was handsome, but he looked sickly, like he hadn’t been out of the house or seen sunlight in years. His gaze carried a certain look of wariness and undisguised sadness.

He perused Jack with an enquiring gaze, eyes roaming over his body and back up to his face. Jack tried to stand tall, like a soldier awaiting inspection.

Finally, he coughed to break the silence. “Jack Anderson, sir,” he said. He moved forward and held out his hand.

“Forgive my manners,” the man said, shaking it briskly. “I’m Robert Blake. Do sit down.”

Jack stepped back to a chaise longue behind him. He glanced around the room. Expensive furniture was lit by the light from the huge windows and rugs scattered the highly polished floor. In a corner was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, a large oak desk before it. To the far side, a fire blazed in the hearth, warming the chilly room.

“So, Mr Anderson…”

“Jack, please,” Jack said.

“Very well, and please call me Robert.”

Jack inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“My secretary saw you?”

“Yes.”

“He explained what I was looking for?”

“A companion,” Jack said politely.

“Just so. And he explained my”—Robert gestured vaguely to his own body and the chair—“circumstances.”

“Of course.” Robert was a war veteran, now confined to a wheelchair. His secretary had not expanded beyond this and Jack had thought it imprudent to ask.

“Very well. I’ll pay you for your time today, and should I wish to take further advantage of your services, it would be for an hour a week, if that’s agreeable to you.”

“Yes.” Jack was rather unsure about what providing services to a man in a wheelchair consisted of, but he suspected it might be the easiest money he had made in some time. He wasn’t hugely successful. He still worked two days a week in a bookshop in London to supplement his income, but this might be just the job for him, even if the nature of his employer’s circumstances unsettled him somewhat.

“Well then,” Robert said. “Tea?” He pushed his wheelchair closer to the occasional table and lifted the teapot.

“Thank you.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk.” Jack got up to take the fine china cup and saucer with a polite ‘thank you’.

“And a biscuit or a cake? My cook is legendary in these parts.”

Jack took a delicate little currant bun, placed it on a side plate and withdrew to his chaise longue. Robert poured himself some tea. He sipped, watching Jack over the rim of his cup.

Jack took a bite of his bun. Certainly he had yet to go anywhere where his employer seemed less inclined to get down to the business in hand than here. It struck him then that maybe this was actually a job interview—that nothing but a formal chat would take place. He would have to be careful. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself by suggesting anything when Robert had brought him here merely to drink tea and eat cakes.

Author Bio:
Scarlet writes erotic romance.

Scarlet would rather stick pins in her eyes than go on Facebook but now sees the necessary evil of it. Please join her there for useless writing-related ramblings and hot men musings and ease her in gently. Bah.

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Falcon by Victoria Danann

Title: Falcon
Author: Victoria Danann
Series: Knights of Black Swan, Next Generation #1
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 28, 2016
Summary:
The knights are losing the war with the mutated virus. Humanity's extinction is a possibility.
Black Swan needs a miracle.

Who would guess that it might come in the form of a womanizing vampire?

"Reminiscent of My Familiar Stranger."

The next generation of the Knights of Black Swan have been inducted and vested with all the privileges and responsibilities of the B Team legends in whose shadows they took their training. K Team is coming into their prime as servants of The Order, with most of their lives ahead. Or so each one hopes.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Victoria Danann, brings us a sizzling new take on the Knights of Black Swan. The boys are all grown up and bursting at the seams looking for action.

Black Swan believed they'd found the cure for the vampire virus, but it mutated and the resurgence threatened to be the extinction of humanity within a generation. Help comes from a most unexpected source, a vampire.

Meanwhile, the new Director of Operations is cute, curvilicious and has Falcon reeling. And he doesn't need distractions when he's busy saving the world.

"Grabs hold and won't let go." - The Paranormal Romantic

The epic saga that has won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES the past three years in a row (Reviewers Choice Awards, the Paranormal Romance Guild) continues with a new crop of vampire hunters that we already know and love.

Grab your copy TODAY and find out why KBS is called astonishing, breathtaking, nail biting, spectacular, unique, and a wild and sexy ride.


Ram’s swagger looked a little wilted as he found Storm and Kay having a quiet drink and flopped into one of the bar’s cushy lounge chairs next to them.

“You in shock?” Kay said. “Do we need to order whiskey and a blanket?”

“Aye. Shock. Those women…”

Storm smirked. “How many?”

“All of them. They’re all in the space that used to be my temporary home. Elora. Litha. Rosie. They’re actin’ like ‘tis the event of the century. Dressin’ my sister up like she’s auditionin’ to dance at the Moulin Rouge.”

“They having fun?”

“Aye. That’s what’s so scary about it all. And the noise level…”

“Mr. Heavy Metal is complaining about noise?” Kay asked.

“Well, I would no’ want to say they’re screechin’ exactly. But when they get excited, their voices get high pitched and they do this thing where they… I can no’ even explain it.”

“Squeee?” Kay asked.

Ram’s eyes got big. “Aye. ‘Tis exactly that. Squeee. Sounds more like a banshee than anythin’ else.”

“Did you leave your children with them?” Kay asked.

Ram screwed up his face. “They’re with Nanny, but you are guiltin’ me for leavin’ them in the apartment. Great Paddy. They may develop psychosis. I should get them out of there while they’re still sane.”

“What makes you think your children are sane?” Storm teased.

“Ho now. You can chide me all ye wish, but do no’ be disparagin’ the fruit of my loins.”

The waiter arrived at the arm of Ram’s chair. “Triple whiskey,” he said. The waiter raised an eyebrow. “’Tis no’ your place to judge. ‘Tis my night off and I’ve been forced to flee my humble home.”

Ram didn’t wait for an answer before turning back to his teammates.

“So what’s this all about anyway?”

“No’ sure I’m at liberty to say.”

His teammates held a silent conversation with each other. Kay cleared his throat. “In that case, it would be wrong for us to press. So we won’t ask.”

Ram gaped at Kay. “Seriously? You’re no’ puttin’ up more of a fight than that?”

“Well, if you’re not at liberty to say…”

“On second thought, I’m sure Glen would want me to advise my trusted friends and teammates.”

“Only if you’re sure…” Kay said.

Ram proceeded to tell the story, which was fairly accurate for being third hand at that point. “So I’m gettin’ Rev to go out with you tonight. If it turns out this Jazz Man is what he says he is, I’m no’ takin’ any chances with my sister. That prancin’ poofer she’s married to would be sendin’ an army to join my da’s own army and all of them would be after my head. I’m very fond of these beautiful blonde locks, as you both know.” Storm and Kay both nodded thoughtfully. “So I’ll be playin’ bodyguard to her highness tonight.”

“You know we’ll be patrolling the neighborhood around midnight. We could maybe swing by Dublin Down. Just say hi. Make sure everything’s going okay.”

Ram grinned. “You fuckers are dyin’ to get a look at him.”

Kay shrugged.

Storm wanted to appear nonchalant, but couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Ram when he said, “I’ll bet Elora would like to sashay by there tonight. We know she has a thing for talking vampire.”

Ram caught the mischievous gleam in Storm’s eye and knew Storm was teasing, but it was also a dig that didn’t go down easy. After three children and years of married life, the way Baka and Elora had interacted, back in the day, still bothered Ram. And Storm knew it.

Rammel carefully set his whiskey tumbler down on the table beside him before launching himself out of his chair so fast it looked like he’d been sitting on an eject mechanism. He flew across the space that separated them and attempted to get Storm in a headlock.

“What are you doing?!?” Storm wheezed, turning red and trying to get his breath while Ram’s forearm squeezed his windpipe. “It was a joke!”

Ram didn’t respond to that protest because he didn’t care if it was a joke. He jerked Storm out of the chair by his neck, which was a testament to Ram’s strength because Storm was still a big well-muscled guy. As soon as they fell to the floor together, Ram hauled back and launched a fist that caught Storm in the side. Storm reacted by rolling over so that he could get enough room to clip Ram on the side of the face. Kay, of course, was yelling and doing his best to break it up, but in the process took punishing hits from both of them.

Several of the other knights came to assist Kay and fifteen minutes later, the three veteran members of B Team were standing in the Sovereign’s office, being called on the carpet like they were kids.

“The. Hel.” said Glen, clearly furious. “Every trainee in Jefferson Unit has already heard that B Team were brawling in our own club lounge, rolling around on the floor like… like…”

“Brawlers?” Kay suggested.

“Famous legendary elite vampire hunters indeed.” The sarcasm was dripping from every word Glen uttered. “A fine example you set for the next generation tonight.”

“He started it,” Storm mumbled.

“You did not say what I think you just said.” Glen looked incredulous. “Is this some kind of midlife crisis?”

That hit a mark. All three men looked horrified. “We’re no’ yet even thirty-five,” Ram protested.

“You’re acting like you’re not yet five.”

Ram glared at Storm. “There are just some things you do no’ say about an elf’s mate.”

Glen pulled back and studied Ram for a minute. “I don’t believe there is any power in heaven or hel that could make me believe Engel Storm insulted Elora Laiken.”

“Well,” Ram hedged, “he did no’ insult her per se.”

“Per se,” Glen repeated.

“Aye. Per se.”

Glen threw up his hands. “You know, I don’t really care what happened. If you were Z Team, I’d just roll my eyes and say, ‘What else is new?’ The three of you are going to be guest speakers at one ethics and decorum class per grade during this term.”

“Oh, for…” Kay started.

“Not. Another. Word.” Glen walked over and opened the door to his office. “Get out. And shame on you.”

Standing in the outer offices, Kay looked at the door that had been shut in his face and said, “I didn’t do anything! In fact I tried to stop it.”

Ram and Storm started walking down the hall toward the elevator. Storm turned to Ram and said, “Look what you did now.”

“You want me to? Pull your shirt up so I can see.”

“There’s nothing to see. You on the other hand are going to need some ice soon if you don’t want that eye to swell shut.”

Ram reached up and touched it. “You got me good.” He smiled.

Storm’s face split into a proud smile. “You’re gonna be wearing my mark for a while. Elora’s gonna chew your royal rear end when she hears about this.”

By that time Kay had caught up. From behind them he said, “Maybe you two are having a midlife crisis.”



Jax #2
Summary:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Victoria Danann, continues the breathtaking new take on Knights of Black Swan with a sizzling follow up to Falcon. The Next Generation of Black Swan knights continues the struggle to rid the world of "deadheads", virus infected vampires who are barely more cognizant than zombies. Jax, one of the vampires turned by the immortals, joined the fight and became Falcon's partner. For six hundred years Jax has seduced women, drunk their blood, and left them feeling blissfully satisfied, but without memory of the event. It was a good and manageable life as a vampire. Certainly it worked for him. Until now. The deliciously wild redhead remembers. And she's pissed.




Author Bio:
New York Times bestselling author of thirteen romances. Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES for the past THREE YEARS IN A ROW. Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.

Her paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on "imaginary" creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and, occasionally, enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, werewolves, hybrids, psychics, or past life therapists. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners... usually.

The rich characterizations come from being a lifelong student of behavior, casually, and a serious student of behavior academically. She also studied comparative religion, myths, and Dark Ages history.

Victoria lives in The Woodlands, Texas with her husband and a very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog.


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EMAIL: vdanann@gmail.com



Falcon #1

Jax #2






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