Carries Book Reviews

Snowed
Maria Alexander
Publication date: November 2nd 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Mystery, Young Adult

Charity Jones is a 16-year-old engineering genius who’s much-bullied for being biracial and a skeptic at her conservative school in Oak County, California. Everything changes when Charity’s social worker mother brings home a sweet teen runaway named Aidan to foster for the holidays. Matched in every way, Charity and Aidan quickly fall in love. But it seems he’s not the only new arrival: Charity soon finds the brutally slain corpse of her worst bully and she gets hard, haunting evidence that the killer is stalking Oak County. As she and her Skeptics Club investigate this death and others, they find at every turn the mystery only grows darker and more deadly. One thing’s for certain: there’s a bloody battle coming this holiday season that will change their lives – and human history – forever.

Will they be ready?

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—

SNEAK A PEEK AT CHAPTER 3:

I can hear Mom and Dad chatting in the living room, asking questions. Another softer voice with a strange accent gives staccato answers.

“Charity?” Mom calls out. She sounds annoyed.

I shuffle through the foyer, inhaling the smell of baking lasagna. When I enter the family room, Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch with mugs, tea bag tags draped over the edges. Some guy I don’t know sits with them in the easy chair. I can’t help checking him out. He’s my age, average height, with skin pale as cream and wavy ebony hair. His light blue eyes shimmer under long, inky lashes. His wrinkled, striped dress shirt is much too big for his narrow shoulders, and his scuffed black boots with

pointed toes peek out from the cuffs of his baggy jeans. He gives off a weird vibe, like he’s been in prison or working for suicide bombers.

He must be a stray.

My mom’s a social worker. She’s always bringing home people for meals. Damaged people.

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders, kissing my ear. “Where have you been? Did you get my message?”

I shake my head.

“Hey. How’d it go?” Dad hugs me as well. I kiss his big scruffy face.

They are being very nice. Something’s up.

“Not great. I’ll tell you later.” I stare at our visitor.

“Charity, this is Aidan MacNichol. Aidan, this is my daughter, Charity.”

“How do you do?” He holds out his hand. His eyes barely meet mine. His voice is a notch higher than I expect and kind of sing-song. What century is this guy from? Who says stuff like that?

“Hi,” I say and give him The Boneless Hand. I’m touching you but I’m not happy about it.

Except I am. His skin is incredibly soft, like my mom’s charmeuse dress. He

lets go. At the last second, I almost don’t.

And he almost doesn’t, either.

“Where’s your brother?” Dad asks.

“I don’t know. In jail?”

“Charity, stop it,” Mom sighs.

“What? I never know where he is.”

A car roars into the gravel driveway. It must be Charles’ ride. The music escaping the car windows sounds like someone is grinding the air into steel shavings. As the car retreats, Charles bursts through the front door and makes for the staircase.

“Hey! Charles, come here.” Dad motions to him.

Charles looks as if he’d rather snack on rat poison than join us, but he does.

“Hey.” Charles lifts his chin at Aidan. Aidan nods back.

“We want to talk to you guys.” Mom puts her hand on Aidan’s shoulder.

“Aidan is going to be staying with us for a little while.”

“This is bullshit,” Charles announces and heads for the staircase. He looks

at Aidan. “No offense.”

“Hey, get back here!” Dad yells.

“No family meeting? You just drop this on us?” I ask.

Mom looks mortally offended. “Charity!”

“It’s not fair. We never get a say in anything that happens around here. Not about Aunt Bulimia—”

“Aunt Bellina.”

“Or the dog I wanted?”

“Honey, you know Charles is allergic.”

“The only thing he’s allergic to is school!”

“Shut up, Cherry.” Charles glares at me, his hamster face squinching up.

“We have guests from my work all the time,” Mom says, “and you’ve never cared before.”

“Yeah, for dinner.”

Aidan slinks back, hands in his pants pockets. He watches the sky through the sliding glass door on the far wall of the living room. He’s humming a familiar tune under his breath. I can’t quite place it.

“I should go.”

Aidan’s announcement cuts through the room. Everyone falls silent.

“I can’t stay here,” he says. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. You’ve been very kind.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Aidan.” Mom invokes The Voice. It’s from her days as a trial lawyer. “If you leave, I have to call the authorities. You’re underage, your legal residency is in question, and the county has put you in our care. You can stay with us or you can go to juvy.” Mom darkened. “I don’t recommend juvy.”

“Neither does Charles,” I say.

“Shut up, Cherry!”

Aidan sighs. “I don’t know what this ‘juvy’ is but I suppose I don’t want to go.”

“Are you from like England or something?” Charles asks.

Aidan looks confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Where is he sleeping?” I ask.

“Your room,” Dad says.

My face heats with horror. I bury it in my hands.

“Kidding!” Dad says, throwing an arm around me for a bear squeeze.

“Sewing room. Now let’s have some chow.”

Mom shuttles us to the dining table. She interrogates Charles as to why he stinks like cigarette smoke, but he claims it’s from riding with his friend Noah. I say nothing. As we set the table, she brings out the salad and lasagna, which smells heavenly.

Humiliation and disappointment haven’t affected my appetite at all, apparently. I wish something would.

I notice that Aidan holds the fork like he’s strangling it. He scrapes the plate. Everyone winces. Where is this guy from? And why is he so strange? Who doesn’t know how to use a fork?

I want to flee to my room to cry but I can’t. I want to make up with Keiko. I feel terrible about that fight. But Mom has laid down the law: No running off before the meal is over. Supposedly this encourages Charles to stay put and bond with us. If I ran upstairs and flung myself onto the bed now, I’d be doubly busted because we have a guest. I just want to be alone and this weird stranger is keeping me from my snug room where I can just melt down.

“Are you all right?” Aidan looks at me, concerned. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t

you who misbehaved at school today.”

Wait—what? How could he know? Or does he?

Mom shoots Aidan an anxious look, then me. “Honey, is there something going on?”

“Cherry started a riot at school today,” Charles offers.

“A riot?” Dad eyes me with disbelief.

“Shut up! That’s not what happened!”

“And then she made the Christian girls cry.”

“Charity!” Mom says. “Was this your club?”

“Mom, I didn’t do anything to anyone.”

“Then they sent Cherry like a million text messages so she can’t use her phone anymore.” Charles beams with triumph.

I want to slam his face into the Pyrex dish. “You! Did you give them my cell number?” My face heats with the rage. My hand balls into a fist on the table.

“That’s enough.” Dad points at Charles. “Did you give out your sister’s cell number?”

“Of course not,” Charles says, indignant. Dad eyes him suspiciously, but lets it drop. There is no justice.

Mom wearily passes Dad the wine bottle. “Charity, what happened?”

“Nothing. I put up a flyer about the Skeptic’s Club and the BFJs picketed my meeting, calling me a lot of unspeakable names. They harassed everyone who was there. They were harassing me with texts calling me a Satanist even before the club meeting. I had to turn off my phone. That’s why I didn’t get your call.” Tears scald the corners of my eyes.

“Where were the school officials?” Mom asks. “I can’t believe they let this happen!”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Vittorio told me he’s reporting it. He’s the librarian.”

Aidan sits with his hands folded in his lap, eyes trailing to the window.

Mom narrows her eyes at Dad and polishes off her glass of wine.

And then there’s Keiko… I can’t take it anymore. I manage to stand up and choke out, “Excuse me,” before dashing for my room.

I hear Charles complaining behind me. “So Cherry gets to have a tampon tizzy and get out of dishes?”

I slam the door and the tears spill out. As I fall on the bed, I look to Mr. Spotty and Miss Yoyodyne, who squat beside my desk. These aren’t stuffed animals. They’re robots I built. I feel like kicking one of my plastic component bins but I hurt so much, I just double over on the bed.

Footsteps pound up the stairs and Mom taps on my door. I know her knock.

“Come in.”

Mom sits on the bed and hugs me. Between sobs, I tell her what happened with Keiko.

“Honey, these people are serious bullies. Do you want me and Dad to talk to the principal?”

“No. That’ll only make it worse. Besides, the school says they’ll deal with it. Can we wait and see what happens?”

She looks unconvinced, wiping hair out of my eyes. “If they lay a hand on you…”

“…I have a good lawyer.”

After Mom leaves, I text Keiko.

I’m so sorry, K. Please don’t be mad. I won’t put up any more flyers. I promise! Xoxo

As I read One Hundred Years of Solitude for AP English, I can hear thebumps and scrapes of Dad and Charles setting up the cot in the sewing room. Despite his protests, Charles enjoys showing off that he can lift more than Dad, who had back surgery several months ago. Mom digs through the sewing room closet. “We’ll

get you more clothes this weekend,” I hear her tell Aidan. They wish each other a good night.

After two long hours of AP Calculus followed by Honors Chemistry and French, I eventually crawl into bed, exhausted and wishing that I believed in something—anything—that I could pray to and make things okay with Keiko.

Everything falls quiet except for Aidan. I hear him humming. The wall is thin between us.

I remember hearing Mom crying in the sewing room after we first moved here. She and Dad weren’t getting along. I hate thinking of my mom being weak. She has to be strong, the badass lawyer who torches anything in her way with her words. I love her for that. To hear her sobbing was haunting.

Aidan keeps humming. It’s that same tune as before but this time I know what it is.

Carol of the Bells.

A Christmas song.

Author Bio:

Maria Alexander is a produced screenwriter, published games writer, virtual world designer, award-winning copywriter, interactive theatre designer, fiction writer, snarkiologist and poet. Her short stories have appeared in numerous publications and acclaimed anthologies alongside living legends such as David Morrell and Heather Graham.

Her debut novel, Mr. Wicker, won the 2014 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel. She’s represented by Alex Slater at Trident Media Group.

When she’s not wielding a katana at her Shinkendo dojo, she’s being outrageously spooky or writing Doctor Who filk. She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats and a purse called Trog.

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Illusion of Ecstasy
Nicole Loufas
(2nd Dose in the Thizz Series)
Publication date: December 1st 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

When Dani discovered the cash hidden in her attic, she had no idea the problems it would bring. With the help of the Marino’s, Dani is able to launder her father’s dirty money, but their help comes with a price. Her relationship with Matt.

Not wanting to hurt Dani’s future or freedom, Matt removes himself from the equation to keep everyone safe. But when it’s time to go home, he has to decide which is more important – watching his little sister grow up or returning to the girl of his dreams.

Nick is determined to make good on all the bad he’s caused, and has finally accepted his role as a Marino. Fate doesn’t make it easy for him. Especially, when he returns from Europe to find Dani is falling apart. With Matt out of the picture, Nick contemplates a future with the only girl he’s ever loved.

In the conclusion to Thizz, A Love Story, follow Dani, Matt, and Nick on a soul-searching journey into adulthood. The Illusion of Ecstasy explores the emotional tribulations they encounter without the help of thizz. How to deal with real emotion becomes the biggest obstacle of all on their road to maturity.

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—

EXCERPT:

Nick and I circle each other for a few minutes. I wait for him to make the first move. He always makes the first move. To my surprise, he just keeps circling and smiling. Finally, I go for it. I lunge, and he falls against the padded headboard. Wood cracks. I keep wailing on him with the pillow. Nick grabs me around my knees and takes me down. He tries to pin me using a move I taught him. He has no chance. I arch my back and twist my body. Before Nick can take his next breath, I’ve got him flipped over. We’re both breathing heavy. I hold Nick by the neck, not too hard. I don’t want to hurt him. Not

really. I’m lying on my back, my arm wrapped around his neck as he’s lying beside me, sort of in front of me. I feel his hand tap out at the same time the screen on the front door squeaks open and then slams shut.

Nick starts to laugh when Dani appears in the doorway.

She takes in the room. The comforter on the floor, the sheets askew. Nick in my arms. She’s trying really hard to keep a straight face. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just working out some aggression,” Nick jokes and breaks free.

I want to ask what she’s doing here, but I suspect Nick had everything to do with it. The phone call, changing the sheets, it makes sense now. That thoughtful motherfucker.

“I can come back later,” she teases and breaks into a huge grin. Her face lights up. She only beams like this when she’s high. There is only one person who could’ve given her pills.

Nick jumps off the bed and wraps Dani in his arms. He pulls back and kisses her on the forehead. Her eyes flutter closed, and all I can think is—karma is a bitch.

Author Bio:

Nicole was born and raised in California. She claims to be a San Francisco native, however she’s lived in both Northern and Southern California. She credits her creativity to the fact that she attended 12 schools between kindergarten and her senior year in high school. Her nomadic childhood allowed her to reinvent herself often. Some might say she was a liar. While others see the stories she told as a coping mechanism. Twelve schools, in six cities, in twelve years – give her a break. Today she channels her storytelling ability into writing novels. Long story short – kids that lie become writers.

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Taking Turns
JA Huss
(The Turning Series #1)
Publication date: January 18th 2017
Genres: Dark Erotic Suspense

I’ve never been afraid of the dark…but that doesn’t mean I wanted to live in it. And maybe everyone wants what they can’t have, but I should’ve thought it over before I accepted the key and unlocked the door to their forbidden world.

Number One is mostly silent. He watches me with them very carefully. His gaze never wanders. His interest never wanes.

Number Two is mostly gentle. But it’s the other side of him I like best. The wild side.

Number Three is mostly reserved. He refuses to cross the line. Even when I beg.

It was carnal, it was sensual, and it was erotic. That’s it. That’s all it was supposed to be. A trip into the dark. A peek into the forbidden.

I just didn’t expect to like them.

*****

I heard the door open and close and said nothing. And the footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedroom. I even heard him say, “Hey.” So softly. “You awake?” Like he didn’t want to wake me.

I listened as he stepped into the closet. There was that slick sound a man makes when he pulls his tie through his shirt collar. I heard the unclasping of his watch. The jingle of his belt buckle and the shuffle of his pants as they dropped to the floor.

I even heard his moan as he stood over me. I could feel his shadow from the streetlamp outside like it was heat.

Then the bed creaked, the mattress sank. And his warm, hard body straddled me.

Still, I said nothing.

I just buried my face in the sweet scent of the pillow and closed my eyes, feigning sleep.

“Rochelle,” he whispered, leaning over me. His fingertips gently brushed the hair away from my shoulder. His mouth pressed against my skin. “Did you miss me? God, I’ve missed you. Two weeks is too long. We need to renegotiate.”

He nipped my neck. Kissed it. Licked my ear as he positioned himself to begin.

And I said… nothing.

Even though my name is not Rochelle.

That’s why I’m here. Tied up and gagged inside the closet. Sitting in the dark as three men on the other side of the door argue about where Rochelle went, why I was in her bed, and what they should do next.

I should be scared but I’m not.

I should be screaming, but I won’t.

Because this just feels very, very right.

And the only thing on my mind is… what will happen next?

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Author Bio:

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life’s largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.aJA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.

You can chat with her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AuthorJAHuss), Twitter (@jahuss), and her kick-ass romance blog, New Adult Addiction (www.newadultaddiction.com).

If you’re interested in getting your hands on an advanced release copy of her upcoming books, sneak peek teasers, or information on her upcoming personal appearances, you can join her newsletter list (http://eepurl.com/JVhAr) and get those details delivered right to your inbox.

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No Secrets
N. Raines
Publication date: November 29th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance

She wants him…

Alyxandra Franklin crushed on Cris Garcia the first time they met. He wasn’t like the guys in her crowd, the boys in grown-up bodies. No, Cris was a man. A man who’d stand up for his girl, hold her close and keep her love safe. In spite of her feelings, Alyx never made a move on him. How could she? He belonged to her best friend, Gabi. And now it’s too late.

He hates her…

Cris figures if he never sees Alyx Franklin again, it’ll be too soon. She’s nothing but a spoiled stupid rich girl, too busy partying to care about anyone but herself. She’s the reason Gabi, the girl he loved, lost her life.

But he’s wrong. Gabi had secrets. When those secrets blow up his life, Cris is willing to go to any lengths to unravel the lies. Even if that means befriending Alyx—and sleeping with her—to learn the truth.

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—

EXCERPT:

Brandon nuzzled her ear. “It’s just you and me, baby.”

She pushed him away as she tried to think. Oh, God. If only she hadn’t had all those drinks. Her muzzy state made her clumsy and off-kilter. She meant no, but Brandon

wasn’t taking no for an answer. Though she’d slapped away his hand, he kept pushing.

He tickled up her side as she tried to squirm away. “Bet I can change your mind…”

God, she was ticklish there. She couldn’t help laughing, even though she was pissed he wouldn’t take her seriously. “Don’t…no, stop it. I mean it, Brandon. Stop…”

A deep voice cut through her weak giggles and Brandon’s whispered teasing. “You got a problem with your hearing? She said stop.”

They both froze. Alyx couldn’t make out the man’s face in the darkness, but she knew the voice.

Cris.

When he stepped into the light, Alyx stiffened even as her chest flooded with relief. Grateful as she was that someone had intervened, why did he have to be that someone?

He gazed at them stony-faced. His eyes zeroed in on Brandon’s hand on her waist. She felt Brandon’s hand tighten, then drop away as he glared back at Cris. “What do you want?”

“I want you to leave her alone.” He nodded at Alyx.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?”

Cris ignored him, focusing on Alyx. “Do you want this assclown touching you?”

“Hey!” Clenching his fists, Brandon took a step toward Cris.

Alyx spoke quickly. “I just want to go home.” Though pissed off at Brandon, she didn’t want to see him and Cris get into it.

The air quivered with nervous energy as the two guys eyed each other. Brandon’s jaw was set as though he wanted to lay into Cris, and Cris looked as though he’d like nothing better than to bust Brandon in his preppy, pretty-boy face.

Another voice broke the tension. “Everything cool over here?”

A man stepped out of the darkness and stood beside Cris. Alyx recognized him from inside the bar, the guy who’d been sitting with Cris. Tall and broad shouldered, he was the kind of guy you’d want watching your back when trouble came calling.

“Yeah.” Cris’s even tone belied the tenseness in his body. “It’s all good, man.” He glanced at Alyx. “Where’s your car? I’ll drive you home. You’re in no shape to get behind the wheel.” Then he turned to the big guy, his friend. “Rick, can you follow us so I can get a lift back here to my ride?”

She tottered on her three-inch heels while Brandon sneered. “Well, I uh…my car’s not here. I mean, I came with a friend…but she left without me.” God, did she sound pathetic or what?

Brandon’s nasty laughter rang out behind them as his climbed into his car. “Good luck getting home, Alyx.” He gave the door a slam, then peeled out of the lot, gunning the motor as a farewell fuck-you.

Total silence reverberated before Cris spoke again. “You got some real nice friends.”

He didn’t even try to hide his contempt, obviously convinced she was stupid and irresponsible. Maybe he was right.

“Well, um, I could call a cab.” She unsnapped her tiny purse and wanted to cry when all she found was a compact, a tube of lipstick, and a couple of crumpled dollar bills.

Oh, crap. Not even enough to take the bus, if buses ran this late. What to do? Her brain scrabbled frantically to come up with an answer. “I could call my sister to come get me.” Right, ask her for a favor after you ditched her party. But no matter how pissed Morgan might be, she wouldn’t leave Alyx stranded. Nor would she tattle to their parents.

She felt both men’s gazes on her, the big guy’s soft with sympathy, Cris’s hard and judgmental. She felt every bit the spoiled little airhead they imagined her to be.

The big dude spoke up. “Well, I could—”

“No,” Cris said. “I got this, Rick. Come on, Alyx. I’ll take you home.”

Author Bio:

N. Raines (who also writes as Nona Raines) is a former librarian who lives in upstate New York with her many pets. She’s currently working on her next novel between walking the dog and shooing the cats off the laptop. Her erotic romances are published with The Wild Rose Press and Loose Id. Her transgender romance His Kind of Woman was nominated for the 2014 DABWAHA sponsored by the Dear Author and Smart Bitches, Trashy Books review blogs. Her most recent work is the romance novella Write to Me and the transgender romance Her Kind of Man.

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