Carries Book Reviews

Shining Sea
Mimi Cross
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult

Seventeen-year-old Arion Rush has always played the obedient sidekick to her older sister’s flashy femme fatale—until a mysterious boating accident leaves Lilah a silent, traumatized stranger. As her sister awaits medical treatment with their mother, Arion and their father head to his hometown in Maine to prepare a new life for them all. Surrounded by the vast Atlantic, songwriting is Arion’s only solace, her solid ground.

Unexpectedly, Arion blossoms in the tiny coastal town. Friends flock to her, and Logan Delaine, a volatile heartthrob, seems downright smitten. But it’s Bo Summers—a solitary surfer, as alluring as he is aloof—that Arion can’t shake. Meanwhile, Lilah’s worsening condition, a string of local fatalities, and Arion’s own recent brushes with death seem ominously linked…to Bo’s otherworldly family. As Arion’s feelings for Bo intensify and his affections turn possessive, she must make a choice. How will Arion learn to listen to her own voice when Bo’s siren song won’t stop ringing in her ears?

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EXCERPT:

GOODBYE

Tuneless humming is coming from the bedroom next to mine. I’ve always been the better singer, no secret. Even before I could talk, I sang. To me, singing feels like . . . flying.

As a little kid I sang in the church choir, later on in the choruses at school, and about six months ago I started writing songs—not that I’d call myself a songwriter yet. My first gig was last week, down in the Mission District. Standing on the spotlit stage of the black box performance space, I played one long set—twelve tunes total—while hipsters watched with crossed arms.

Performing in front of an audience is a good way to tell if your songs are finished.

Or not.

The song I’m trying to capture now definitely falls into the not category.

I give the guitar a soft strum—a ghost of a chord slips out. Playing the haunting notes a little louder, I listen for the melody. It’ll come, eventually, but we’re leaving any minute.

Not just leaving . . . moving.

“Do you know,” I whisper sing, “where lost things go?”

In the next room Lilah falls silent. The lyrics tangle in my throat.

My fingers fumble, then jerk—playing a rhythmic pattern atop a single minor chord: one and two, one and two. Words tumble out of me. “Saint Anthony, can you come around? There’s something lost, and it can’t be found.”

Saint Anthony—is he the one?

A quick Google search on the laptop perched at the end of my bed tells me he is. Saint Anthony is invoked as the finder of lost things. Pulling my guitar closer, I play the line over and over.

“Arion? You up there?”

Dad. After shoving the laptop into my backpack, I shut the guitar in its case and head into the hall. Hands full, I stand in my sister’s doorway.

She doesn’t see me.

Even as thin as she is, even with the ever-present dark shadows beneath her eyes, Lilah is beautiful. Her features are regular and in proportion. Mine . . . are slightly exaggerated. Nose longer, lips fuller. Now, without music to distract me, the tears I’d vowed not to cry fill my eyes. Brown eyes. On a good day, they’re hazel. Maybe.

There’s no mistaking the color of my sister’s eyes. Bright blue. Her hair is black and shiny, cut straight across her forehead and blunt at her shoulders in a way that has always made me think of Cleopatra, but especially since the accident, when she became a mystery to me. Lilah no longer tells me her every thought. She can’t.

My sister blinks her bellflower eyes now, and for a split second— seems to focus on me.

But the illusion vanishes just as quickly. I swallow around the lump in my throat, wondering for the millionth time if she has any idea what’s going on.

Her bed is up against the window. In the distance—over a nearly invisible San Francisco Bay—the Golden Gate Bridge hovers in fog. Sitting down beside her on the bed, I lay a hand on one of her legs—feel bones, atrophied muscles. A raw feeling spreads through me, like a dull blade is scraping the underside of my skin.

“So . . . guess it’s time for goodbye.” I take a deep breath in, let it out slowly—which doesn’t help at all. “I’ll see you in Rock Hook Harbor. Dad’s one-horse hometown . . . Sounds happening, huh?” My attempt at lightheartedness fails completely. The words drop like bricks.

Leaning in, I kiss her cheek.

She turns away, as if looking toward the ghostly water. Or, is she looking at the water? Or just staring blankly?

I so want it to be the former. The doctors say it’s the latter.

In my chest, a hairline fissure I’ve fused together with lyrics and chords pops open.

“I love you,” I choke out.

She doesn’t answer. Of course she doesn’t.

Biting down hard on my lip, I stand up, trying not to feel like I’m leaving my best friend stranded. But I am. She is. Stranded. She’s been stranded, for a year.

Swiping at my eyes, I take a few steps down the hall—then turn suddenly into my parents’ room, which is mostly Mom’s room now. Dad spends the nights he’s here on the living room couch, where, after dinner—usually something complicated he’s cooked up involving lots of pots and pans—he falls asleep with the TV on. Blue screen to white noise; maybe the sound helps him. Music works better for me. Or, it used to. I used to lie in bed at night and sing. Lately, all I want to do is sleep.

Like the rest of the house, my parents’ bedroom is crowded with canvases. Filled with slashes of color and geometric shapes, each paint- ing has the name “Cici” scrawled in large letters down in the right-hand corner. Mom’s pictures pulse with unfamiliar energy, and my nostrils flare at the scent of paint fumes as I move a half-finished piece—an abstract portrait of a girl, I think—that’s leaning up against the glass door. Slipping out onto the balcony, I clutch the cold railing and eye a moldering stack of Psychology Today magazines. Therapy is Mom’s religion.

A pair of paint-splattered jeans hangs off a chair. A handful of paintbrushes soak in a bucket. There’s no sign of Dad.

My parents are like a couple of unmoored boats. Drifting. One of the few things they agreed on this past year? The accident was Dad’s fault. A pretty stupid conclusion, really, considering he hadn’t even been on the boat. But he’s a ship’s captain. Lilah and I inherited our love of the water from him.

Water. I hate it now. Because of the water, I’m on this balcony almost every day, drawn out here as if for a long-standing appointment, some prearranged meeting between me and my broken heart. I cry here; sometimes I yell. Sometimes I write, and one day, I nearly threw my guitar over the railing.

Splintered wood, snapped strings, I’m interested in broken things. The circling song lyrics fade at the sound of Mom’s strained voice. “Arion, have you finished saying goodbye to Delilah? Your dad’s ready to go.”

I stay another second, then scoop up a stray guitar pick from the terracotta tiles and head inside, not paying any attention to the paint- ings now, just intent on leaving before I get any more upset.

But then I’m passing Lilah’s room—and I see it.

The slim black notebook I’ve searched for probably a hundred times over the past year.

Oh, I’ve seen the palm-size Moleskine with its curled cover, seen it clutched in Lilah’s fist, watched as she whisked the small black book beneath her quilt, or shoved it between her sheets. I just haven’t been able to get my hands on it, and I’ve wanted to, desperately.

So many times I’ve seen her slip the notebook between the over- size pages of the art books that Mom insists on bringing home from the library. She’ll hug the book close then—her treasure safe inside— but she’ll never actually look at the glossy pages. Not like she looks at that notebook. She looks at that black book like it’s the only thing she recognizes.

It’s definitely some kind of diary. Not that I ever see her writing in it, not since before. But she’s always got it on her.

Only, she doesn’t have it on her now.

Now, there it is, on the floor next to her bed. And Lilah, there she is, still looking but not looking out the window. Transfixed, it would seem, by the gray bay. As I watch, she lifts one hand, bringing her fingertips to the glass—as if there’s something out there she wants to touch.

It’s kind of amazing how I do it, how I steal her most precious pos- session without breaking my stride. How I silently sweep into the room and, bending low, snatch it up—then keep on walking like nothing’s happened. Like I’m ten-year-old Lilah herself, that time at the rock and gem shop down near the beach, trying on one sterling silver ring, then another. I’ll never forget it, how she smiled at the shopkeeper—maybe even said thank you—then practically skipped out the door, still wear- ing at least one of the rings. Once outside, she tossed a half-dozen more rings onto the pebbles that served as the shop’s front yard, so that she could retrieve them that night when the gem shop was closed, so that we could retrieve them.

Eight-year-old me, I’d held the flashlight for her. She’d given me one of the rings as my reward, but only one.

I feel bad taking the book; if I could read it and leave it, I would. But there’s no time. Through the hall window I can see Dad standing down in the driveway by the old green Jeep Cherokee, the car that will be mine once we get to Maine.

So I slide the notebook into the pocket of my backpack where it burns a hole so big I think it will surely fall out—pages fluttering like fiery wings—and slap the floor with a sound so sharp, Lilah will shud- der to life. She’ll spring up and shout at me, her old self at last.

But nothing like this happens.

Leaving Lilah. Taking the notebook. My skin ripples with guilt. But we have to go on ahead. School’s starting in a few weeks, plus Dad’s new job—they won’t hold it any longer.

And really, I have to take the book. I need to know what happened.

Out in the driveway, I crane my neck, trying to see if Lilah’s still at the window.

“Hold on,” Mom shouts from the house, “I almost forgot!”

Time seems suspended as Dad and I wait by the car, the limbo of the long ride already upon us . . .

Mom reappears holding a square box wrapped in gold paper and a purple ribbon. Balanced on top is a fat cupcake with pink frosting.

“Happy birthday, Arion.” Her flinty blue eyes soften. She hands me the awkward duo and gives me an equally awkward hug. “From both of us.”

Dad smiles, shakes his head. “Seventeen.” He’s always been a man of few words.

“Thanks, Mom. Dad.” Swallowing hard, I climb into the car with the gifts on my lap. Mom pecks Dad on the cheek, and he gets behind the wheel. As we pull away, she blows me a kiss.

Twisting in my seat, I wave—then look up at the second story. No Lilah.

My chest hurts so much—I actually glance down. But there’s nothing except a smear of pink icing on my shirt, where I’d leaned into the cupcake.

We’ll fly back close to Thanksgiving, when Lilah is scheduled for the operation that my parents have finally decided is her best bet: a surgical procedure to implant a device in her brain.

It’s not as sci-fi as it sounds. The battery-operated device is kind of like a pacemaker, only for your brain instead of your heart. This kind of surgery is used to treat a variety of disabling neurological symptoms, although I think whoever came up with DBS—deep brain stimulation—was thinking of people with Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s, not, well, whatever’s wrong with Lilah. Her case is—entirely different. I’m not going to pretend: I’m scared. But the plan is, we’ll all be together in Maine by Christmas, so that’s what I’m trying to focus on. I’ll miss Lilah. Mom too. But I’m glad to be leaving San Francisco.

My life here . . . is on hold—except for my music. The rest is a waiting game.

We’ve all been waiting for Lilah to find what she lost. As if she can look for it.

Author Bio:

Mimi Cross was born in Toronto, Canada. She received a master’s degree from New York University and a bachelor’s degree in music from Ithaca College. She has been a performer, a music educator, and a yoga instructor. During the course of her musical career, she’s shared the bill with artists such as Bruce Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi, and Sting. She resides in New Jersey.

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Play Your Heart Out
Crystal Kaswell
(Sinful Serenade #4)
Publication date: May 24th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance

He parties like a rockstar.

She’s there to make sure no one finds out…

Jess James has her eye on the prize. She is finding the money to pay for law school. Period. She is starting a new life on her own. Period. And she’s absolutely staying in Los Angeles, three thousand miles away from the people who expect her to lie for them. It doesn’t matter how lonely she gets on her own, how exhausted she is from working overtime as a cocktail waitress, or how deep the knife wound in her back cuts. She is going to be a lawyer, whatever it takes.

Only she doesn’t have what it takes. She can barely afford to pay her rent.

Sinful Serenade bassist Pete Steele has enough to pay Jess’s rent and buy her a small island in the Caribbean. The famous, talented rock star has everything… except the one thing his manager wants. Pete rose to fame as a devoted boyfriend. Doesn’t matter that his ex slept with his best friend, he needs to stop screwing his way through Los Angeles to keep his reputation clean. Pete works hard, and parties harder… and the sweet, blond waitress is exactly the girl he needs on his arm if he wants to keep the record company happy.

Their arrangement is simple: he pays her tuition, she plays his girlfriend. They’ll lie to the world, but not to each other. Especially not when they’re alone, in his bed, him figuring out exactly which buttons to push to get her moaning his name.

Jess is good at keeping up appearances. She can play the enigmatic rock star’s girlfriend. But Pete shouldn’t play games with a girl who’s been broken before…

Goodreads / Amazon

Previous books in the series:

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EXCERPT:

My eyes find Pete’s. There’s an earnestness to his expression. I feel like I can trust him. Like I can talk to him.

That might be worth lying to everyone else.

His hand slides under my skirt. My thoughts fade away. My shoulders and back relax. I want to feel the way I did at the park, like there’s nothing in the world but the two of us.

Sex first. Decision second.

I lean in to whisper. “Do we have to stay to talk?”

“Have to clear something with Aiden but I can do it after.”

Mmm. After. I nod. “Yes please.”

“Yes please, what?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, please… will you… Do I have to say it?”

He chuckles. “I’ll get you there.”

His fingertips skim my thighs as he pulls his hand back to his lap. He pulls back enough he can stare into my eyes. I still can’t figure out what the expression in his deep brown eyes means, but damn if I don’t like staring into them.

They’re gorgeous eyes.

That vulnerability returns. He blinks and it’s gone. I shift backwards, breaking his touch. But it’s too loud to think.

Pete stands and pulls me to my feet. He nods goodbye to his friends then leads me to the back of the VIP area. There’s a roped off area with a NO ENTRANCE sign. He scans the room. A cocktail waitress has her eyes on us. More likely, she has her eyes on him. She licks her lips hungrily.

He could easily take her home. But he looks at her with apathy. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want any of the gorgeous models in this place.

He wants me.

Pete leans in to whisper. “Wait for me on the balcony. I’ll lose her.” He motions to the closed door in the corner of the roped off area.

He wants to do this on a balcony? Damn. First the bar bathroom then this. He has a thing for public sex.

I should say no. I’m going to be a lawyer. I can’t get caught having sex in public.

I try to force the word to my lips but it refuses. “What if we get caught?”

“This is private property. They’ll ask to leave. That will be it.” His eyes meet mine. “We can hold off till we get back to your place.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to hold off. I want him. Now.

I trust his assessment of the situation.

“No. Let’s do now,” I say.

He nods.

I wait for him to grab the waitress’s attention and I sneak past the velvet rope. The door to the balcony is frosted glass. You can’t see in or out. I turn the handle and check my footing. All good.

We’re overlooking the alley. No one can see us, not from the street, not from the club.

No one is going to catch us. Not on camera—it’s too dark for that.

Thoughts swirl around my brain. I like Pete. Find him interesting. Hell, find him fascinating.

Can I play his girlfriend without falling in love with him?

I press my hands into the smooth metal railing. It’s the only cold thing here. The sounds of the street—conversations and cars—flow into my ears, competing with the music coming from the club.

There’s only one thing I know: I can’t leave without being with him.

Period.

Author Bio:

Crystal Kaswell writes steamy new adult and erotic romance books. She loves when flawed characters fall head over heels for each other. Especially if they fall into bed first. She loves police procedurals, tea, and The Hunger Games series. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband.

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Play Your Heart Out Interview

Can you sum up Play Your Heart Out in two sentences?

Girl accepts offer from rock star to play his girlfriend in return for him paying her law school tuition. Feelings and sexual awakening ensue.

How does this book fit into the Sinful Serenade series?

It’s the fourth book in the series, but it can be read on its own. Each book follows a different couple– one of the guys in Sinful Serenade and his heroine. Pete is the bassist and sometimes lyricist of Sinful Serenade. He’s also the brother of Tom, the drummer slash de facto manager. I must warn– this book is filled with spoilers for the three previous books plus spoilers for Mockingjay and The Force Awakens– so I really, really recommend starting with book one, Sing Your Heart Out, and reading the series in order. It’s a lot of fun seeing new layers to the characters as they grow and let down the walls around their hearts.

But this book is a standalone.You can jump in to Play Your Heart Out without any background and you’ll still understand the plot and the characters.

How is Pete different than the other guys in the band?

All of the guys in the band are fun-loving, passionate about music, and fantastic between the sheets. A lot of people have described them as bad boys with hearts of gold and I think that’s accurate. They sleep around, they curse like sailors, they have tattoos, and they DGAF about what other people think. Pete is more of a straight shooter than the other guys. He’s willing to admit he’s been hurt. He’s more intense and mysterious. He’s also a dirty-talking tease 😉

Pete has a long distance girlfriend in the first three books. What is the deal with her? Why did he stay with her for so long?

I write a lot of first love stories. I really enjoy those, but I wanted to do something a little different with Pete’s character. I wanted him to have been through a messy relationship that he grew out of. He started dating Cindy in high school. They were long distance for a long time before they finally broke up (in Rock Your Heart Out, book three). I think a lot of us have the experience of growing apart from our high school friends or lovers. There’s a part of us that wants to stay together or stay in touch because we aren’t ready to let go. There’s a lot to be said for inertia. We don’t change unless something forces us to change. I think Pete does a great job explaining why he stayed in that relationship in his book, so I won’t speak for him.

Your heroines are all ambitious women. Was this a conscious choice?

Yes. I don’t think there are enough examples in popular culture of women who are both career-oriented and loving. In most TV, movies, and even books, women are either ambitious or loving but not both. A lot of romance heroines start off ambitious but end up giving up on their dreams so the hero can pursue his. This is especially true in rock star romance. Tons of the heroines end up quitting their jobs to follow their boyfriends/husbands around on tour. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a woman putting family first, but I don’t like that it’s the default. I want to remind women that their feelings, thoughts, needs, goals and ambitions matter. I don’t think women hear that enough.

Which Sinful Serenade character are you most like?

I think I’m most like Miles. I know how to present myself as being collected and aloof, and I only reveal myself once I really feel like I can trust someone. It might be my fantasies of being a lyricist and having thousands of being analyzing my words and wondering what they mean talking. When I

described Ophelia (Tom and Pete’s mother) to my husband, he said “oh, so she’s like you, only older and a lesbian?”

Which of the Sinful Serenade guys would you date if you could only choose one?

Tom has a c**k piercing. I have to give that a shot.

What inspired you to start writing about rock stars?

It’s something that always appealed to me. Rock stars are passionate, sexy, confident, and successful. They have a dash of bad boy in that they’re tattooed and they think for themselves rather than doing what is expected of them, but they’re also focused and ambitious. I relate to ambitious, passionate characters, because I am incredibly ambitious and passionate about my writing.

Oh, the tattoos. I get weak in the knees over a fit guy with sexy tattoos—especially a chest piece poking out from under his v-neck. Yummy.

Is Sinful Serenade based on any real band? Are there any bands or albums that inspired you?

Sinful Serenade is definitely its own thing. I don’t see them as being like any particular band. But there were a few albums that got me hooked to music. In high school, I got really into emo/pop-punk music. I love analyzing the lyrics and thinking of the lyricist and what he or she was like.

The two albums I was most obsessed with were Deja Entendu by Brand New and From Under the Cork Tree by Fall Out Boy. If I’m being totally honest, it’s 90% From Under the Cork Tree. I think I’ve listened to that album a thousand times. Maybe more. Both albums present really interesting characters in terms of “the character of the narrator.”

Jesse Lacey, the lyricist/singer of Brand New, writes songs that are open and vulnerable. He lays his pain out in his words. It’s actually hurts, listening to that album, because you can feel how much he hurts. Their first album, Your Favorite Weapon, has some of that hiding behind cleverness I can’t admit you hurt me vibe, but their second album, Deja Entendu does not. His defenses are down. He invites you into his head and his heart. You just want to hold him and whisper it’s going to be okay and take all his pain away.

Now, Pete Wentz, the lyricist/bassist of Fall Out Boy, is a different story. His (well, the character of the narrator) defenses are up high. There’s a real push and pull to From Under the Cork Tree– some of the songs push you away and some pull you in. It opens with this tongue-in-cheek cleverness (“the ribbon on my wrist says do not open before Christmas”) that invites you in and pushes you away at the same time. It’s a really compelling dynamic. The more the album goes on, the more the defenses drop, the more the narrator lets you in.

That impulse, that desire to know someone, is a big theme in my books. My characters are usually damaged. They are still processing something, still unsure of whether or not they can really be in a relationship. They aren’t ready to open their hearts to breaking, or they don’t believe they deserve love, or they feel they’ll end up a burden.

The characters in Play Your Heart Out are named Jess and Pete. Any relation?

Yes. I started naming my characters after my fictional characters and famous people a while back—I hate thinking up names. My characters are not in any way based on the people they are named after. It’s just that it’s more fun to go hmm, I have an awesome woman in her 50s. Who’s an awesome woman in her 50s? I know, Meryl Streep, and to name a character Meryl than to look at the most popular names from a relevant year.

When I started writing Sinful Serenade, it only seemed right to name my bassist Pete. When I got to this book, I realized I had to name my heroine after the other man who inspired my rock star obsession.

What’s next?

I’m writing a fifth Sinful Serenade book, Sinful Ever After. It’s going to be a collection of novella sequels—one for each couple. I want to check in on them in six months or a year to see how they are doing.

That will be the last Sinful Serenade book but it won’t be the last of the Sinful Serenade guys. They’ll appear in my next series, Dangerous Noise. That name might sound familiar to regular readers. Dangerous Noise is the band Drew left to join Sinful Serenade. You’ll meet Ethan, Dangerous Noise’s new guitarist in Play Your Heart Out.

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And I Darken by Kiersten White
My rating: 2.5 of 5 stars

Lada Dragwlya was born into a world in which being female meant basically being property. Her father, the ruler of Wallachia, was disappointed and only hope she’d be beautiful to trade her off later in life. When Lada’s brother was born it became immediately clear he was the weaker of the siblings thus again disappointing their father. The pair were basically abandoned by both parents and raised by a nursemaid.

Lada and Radu are then treated as pawns in a vicious game of power and sent off to be raised in the Ottoman courts. Lada despises the Ottomans and bides her time, planning her vengeance for the day when she can return to Wallachia. Meeting Mehmed, the heir to another empire, the siblings find themselves becoming involved in a toxic love triangle.

I’m just going to start this review off again with a warning that yes, yet again I seem to be in the minority with this read so you may just want to ignore my opinion. I picked this one up because I have read Kiersten White before and had really enjoyed it. This novel however is something completely different and ended up really not being my cup of tea at all.

First, the story is incredibly slow paced for my taste. Virtually the first half of the book is the character building of the siblings, Lada and Radu and a bit of world building. Thinking it was going to be a read about a oppressed female finding her strength I really wanted to continue though and to see where it would go.

I suppose I should include a spoiler warning for anything from this point though since the story doesn’t really start until the second half of the book and normally I wouldn’t talk specifics that far into the story so if you’ve gotten this far and don’t want to know more details please stop reading. The story at the second half becomes about Lada and Radu relationship with Mehmed who is in line to become Sultan of his land. Now this of course means that we have siblings in a bit of a love triangle which certainly isn’t a favorite of mine. But I’d also like to add that it seemed a bit insulting to portray Radu as weak so heavily and then have him attracted to the same sex.

Now, if I were to ignore the fact that Lada and Radu are siblings falling for the same man I would hope that the man in question would be worthy of that potential triangle to begin with. But what we have is a ruler who has his own harem and fathering babies with random women who are basically his property because that’s what he’s expected to do. Just no. The modern equivalent of a player if there ever was one which in my opinion brings down any strength building of Lada in the previous chapters to this point.

Overall, I really didn’t enjoy this read and decided to rate it 2.5 stars although I do think Kiersten White is a talented author and some will fall in love with her writing. For me I spent too much time thinking this was too full of drama fitting daytime television talk shows to get too into the story. The very end of the book did rather peak my interest and I’d wished we’d skipped straight to the ending as it seems that book two may prove to be a more interesting story line.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Beware That Girl by Teresa Toten
My rating: 2.5 of 5 stars

Clawing her way out of a horrible background and upbringing Kate O’Brien has tried to make a place for herself among the elite to fast track her journey to Yale by befriending the mega-wealthy yet deeply damaged Olivia Sumner. Both girls have their secrets to keep as they navigate their way through senior year at the Waverly School.

When Mark Redkin joins the staff at Waverly he charms his way into the lives of the students and staff. Olivia is especially taken with Mark and becomes a bit too close to him, another secret she needs to keep. Kate finds that Mark is also a threat to her and keeping her secret buried that she’s tried to hard to run away from.

Beware That Girl is another thriller that I had high hopes for when I first saw it but unfortunately was left feeling a bit underwhelmed by the read when done. The synopsis promises a dark read with a lot of twists and turns but it seemed to follow a rather straight path to the end in my opinion.

The book alternates chapters between Kate and Olivia all throughout the read but sometimes that felt a bit off as Kate’s are first person and Olivia’s third. The world is that of the spoiled rich girls with the poor girl manipulating her way in really didn’t seem that new or intriguing. Then with Mark being introduced it all seemed to obvious that from the start makes you wonder how the guy is still working in schools.

Overall, 2.5 stars for Beware That Girl. Never really grabbed me and made me guess as it just seemed a bit underwhelming and predictable for a thriller.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

#Swag
Cambria Hebert
(GearShark, #3)
Publication date: June 10th 2016
Genres: Contemporary Sports Romance

These drivers got #swag…

Racing is in her DNA.

Right alongside money and power.

When you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the country,

you have to work harder for success.

Joey Gamble’s a girl on a male-dominated track.

With a daddy who can buy whatever she wants.

But she doesn’t want anything… except to EARN her reputation.

Racing is his passion.

Trouble follows him everywhere. Some even say he invites it.

When you’re nipping at the taillights of the best driver in the new NRR,

you have to fight and claw for each and every success.

It’s never been easy for Lorhaven.

That’s why he doesn’t play by the rules.

He’s a man with a serious chip on his shoulder against the pro racing circuit.

We at GearShark want to know what’s up with that.

We’ve also been hearing rumblings…

of a pro who wants to go indie.

We’ve invited racing royalty and the driver from the wrong side of the tracks to sit down and talk to us about a possible crossover.

We expected sparks to fly when Joey and Lorhaven crossed paths.

Will those sparks ignite into a full-on inferno?

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Previous books in the series:

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Author Bio:

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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