Carries Book Reviews

The Last Girl by Joe Hart
My rating: 1.5 of 5 stars

The Last Girl is a dystopian story taking place in the very near future. In 2017 there is a significant drop in female babies being born with the percentage falling to near one in one hundred million babies rather quickly. Rebels rise up against the government and how they are handling the birth rates.

Several years later we meet Zoey, she is a twenty year old young woman being kept inside a government facility along with a handful of other women. The last in society and hope for the future they are there under the impression that they are being protected until they can help save society. They are told that the virus that had caused the drop in female births had become deadly killing a big portion of the population and that these girls upon their 21st birthday would be led to a safe zone.

The idea behind this book is one that I would normally love to read about. Unfortunately with The Last Girl the more that I read the more that I thought the entire story, setting and plot was full of holes that made a piece of swiss cheese appear solid.

The first section of our story starts in a setting that I’m not personally a fan of so I got off to a rocky start with the book from there. I don’t really like when we have a situation of the character/characters being in any type of asylum/hospital/prison type of setting and then tossing in sadistic treatment on top of it. The girls being supposedly the last in the world you would think they would at least be treated well being kept locked away but there are so many little things that I found irritating and questionable right off the bat such as not even being able to read a book…. why?? Then punishments and things tossed on top didn’t help my interest to grow any. Not to mention that with only six girls we have them divided into half with a mean girl clique against our heroine and her friends, really?? Six women can’t get along?

Then we move into the mid-section of the book where I think great this is going to pick up and I should start liking the story more! Unfortunately that was still not the case. I had a brief moment it looked up but then it just became a bit too far fetched and unbelievable for me to get behind.

Getting to the last section I thought I’d give this a shot to redeem itself a bit with a really great action packed ending. What was I rewarded with? Possibly the worst ending of a book that I recall off the top my head which left me extremely disappointed in the entire novel.

There are plenty of people loving this book but unfortunately I’m not one of them. In the end I would give it 1.5 stars with a half extra star being given simply because I stuck it out until the end but due to all the things I thought were just too ridiculous along the way that hadn’t made a bit of sense to me I can’t go higher. I don’t want to involve spoilers so I will just leave it at that instead of making any arguments against certain specific events.

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

In the Hope of Memories
Olivia Rivers
Publication date: March 21st 2016
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

Hope is dying.

Hope Jackson has lived her short life to the fullest, but her four closest friends are dangling on the brink of disaster. Right before dying of a rare heart condition, Hope sets up a scavenger hunt across New York City using her graffiti art. The directions she leaves her friends are simple: Solve the clues hidden in her art, and they’ll solve the problems haunting their lives.

Hope is dead.

Two days after her heart fails, Hope’s friends are thrown together:

Aiden, her best friend, whose plans to attend college have been scattered by his OCD.

Kali, her foster sister, whose last ties to sanity are as razor-thin as her anorexic waistline.

Erik, her high school crush, whose success as an athlete is based on a lie with no end in sight.

And Sam, her online pen-pal, whose perfect life exploded into chaos in the aftermath of a school bombing.

Together, the four teens take to the streets of New York to complete Hope’s scavenger hunt and fulfill her dying wishes. But in order to unravel the clues hidden in Hope’s graffiti, her friends will need to confront their personal demons head on.

Hope is within reach.

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EXCERPT:

“Wait!” I slam my hand against the door to stop it from clicking shut, wincing as the splintered wood digs into me. “I’m looking for Hope. Hope Jackson. She said she’d be here.”

The dude shakes his head. “She’s dead.”

My heart stutters a fast and hard beat, like it does right when I get tackled on the field. “No. No, she’s not. She’s the exact opposite of dead. Today is her eighteenth birthday. Her birthday party is about to start right now.”

Official Reason Number Infinity it Sucks to Be Going Blind: When you can’t see right, you can’t stop a fist from colliding with your face. The dude’s knuckles crash into my jaw, and I yelp, more out of shock than pain. I’m about to pound my own fist into the freak when he starts talking again, this time in a tone that’s actually kind of pissed.

“She’s dead, you jerk! You really think it’s funny to joke about that?”

“I’m not joking!” I rub at my jaw with the back of my clenched hand. Part of me is itching to mess up this guy’s face, but a larger part is starting to panic. “You’re the one with the wrong info,” I say, silently praying I’m right. “Hope isn’t dead.”

The dude stares down at his hand and slowly curls and uncurls his fingers, like he can’t quite believe he just threw a punch. Then he whispers, “You’re not messing with me?”

“No! What kind of sick joke would that be? Like I said, I’m just trying to find her birthday party. I got an invite from her, I swear. It said to come here.”

“Oh.”

Apparently, this conversation isn’t weird enough for him, so he has to add in some awkward silence. Fan-freaking-tastic. Just when I’m starting to think he’s slipped into a coma, he says, “Sorry I punched your face.”

I take a deep breath. “Just tell me where her birthday party is, okay?”

“I told you, there is no party. Hope is dead.”

“Christ, are you seriously going to make me explain this again? She’s not dead. It’s her birthday today. As in the day when you celebrate a person being alive.”

“It would have been her birthday,” the dude says, slipping back into his strange monotone. “But now she’s dead.”

The seriousness in his voice makes my gut twist, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe he hurt Hope. My hand edges toward my pocket, but just as I’m considering grabbing my cell phone and dialing 9-1-1, I see a tear trickle down his cheek. It looks strange on his expressionless face, but another tear quickly follows, and then a third. He sniffs and turns away, wiping his right eye on the battered sleeve of his hoodie.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice a cracked whisper. All sorts of scenarios rush through my head—Hope’s plane crashing on vacation, a car accident, getting caught in a wrong-place-wrong-time shooting…

“You don’t know?” the dude asks.

“No. Was it in the news?”

The smallest beginning of a frown tugs at his lips. “Of course not. Why would the news report about a stroke victim?”

“Stroke?” I repeat. “She had a stroke? What…why? What triggered it? She’s a health freak.”

He blinks slowly and then says again, “You don’t know?”

Author Bio:

Olivia Rivers is a hybrid author of Young Adult fiction. Her works include the independently published novels “Frost Fire” and “In the Hope of Memories,” along with the traditionally published novel “Tone Deaf” (Skyhorse 2016.) As a certified geek, she enjoys experimenting with new publishing technologies, and her online serials have received over 1,000,000 hits on Wattpad.com. When Olivia isn’t working as a writer, she’s a typical teen attending college in Northern California. Olivia is represented by Laurie McLean of Fuse Literary, and nothing thrills her more than hearing from readers.

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Damnation’s Door
Amy Braun
(Cursed, #3)
Publication date: June 7th 2016
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

Demons are free. Angels are fallen. Hope is dying…

Constance Ramirez and her adopted sister, Andromeda, have stopped Lucifer’s plan– They have closed the Heaven Gate and kept the demons out. But their choice came with brutal consequences, and now every angel on earth is trapped in their mortal body.

All that remains is closing the Hell Gate and establishing a balance once and for all. That means returning to the city of Constance’s nightmares, which has become a haven for murderers and monsters. But even more dangerous than their hunt is that Andromeda’s powers and instincts are turning darker, and this time Constance doesn’t know how to protect her.

Constance is ready to fight for her life, but her enemies have plans she can’t begin to imagine, and they’re prepared to make her suffer…

Trust is lost and hearts are broken in the epic conclusion in Amy Braun’s Cursed trilogy…

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**Cover designed by Deranged Doctor Design**

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READ CHAPTER 1:

Chapter 1

It was supposed to be simple.

I actually thought we would be able to step outside our shelter, get the supplies, and be back before anyone realized we’d been there.

This is what happens when my sister’s optimism rubs off on me.

But it wasn’t Dro’s fault that we walked into a damn trap. Hell just hated us.

That was fine. I hated Hell right back.

The cheap metal door was still clanging against the plaster wall of the store I’d just busted into. Max had looked into it when I asked, and told me there would be demons, but he couldn’t tell what kind because his precog was still blurred. I was expecting a couple Reds or ghouls, maybe a Shredder.

I was not expecting Possessors.

The possessed humans weren’t surprised to see us. Even in their human forms, the Possessors should have been able to sense my sister, because she was the most powerful half-demon known to exist. Since she was still on Hell’s Most Wanted List, we had a serious problem on our hands.

The Possessors looked like regular humans, except their irises were solid black. I held back my shiver, knowing just how much pain their souls must be in. Being possessed was one of the worst things a human could experience. I had barely survived it.

These Possessors had taken over a group of tall, bulky men in black clothes. Their hair ranged from shoulder-length to bald, and their arms were covered in tattoos. Each had the tattoo of a rose thorn that appeared to be weaving in and out of their skin, blood dripping from the points. I had the same one inked behind my ear.

This just keeps getting better and better.

Finally, we snapped out of our shock. I went for the hatchet on my hip and grabbed a knife from my inside jacket. Beside me, Warrick took out a handgun. Next to him, Sephiel drew two short swords. Max wisely stepped back, knowing he couldn’t fight half as well as the rest of us. Dro’s shoulders were tense and ready, but I moved in front of her not just to protect her, but to keep her from doing anything that would get all of us killed.

I started reconsidering this when all of the Possessors drew enormous handguns.

But they didn’t shoot. Why weren’t they shooting?

Because someone else was in the room with us. Someone bigger than the Possessors, who stalked out from the shadows into the dim light. My hand tightened on the grip of my weapons, and I expected Warrick to pull the trigger.

Drake Talbot smiled when he saw our anger. He was a huge bear of a man, about six foot three and probably two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He had on his black duster and dark pants, his hands on his hips to display the guns and the thick, blunt hilts of his knives easily visible next to his clothes. The top of his head and his chin were covered in dark stubble. Two abysmal black eyes stared at me, filled with sadism and malice.

“Well, look who showed their faces after all,” Drake sneered, standing confidently behind his bodyguards. “We didn’t think you’d make it to Party Town.”

Party Town. I supposed Drake would see it that way. I didn’t think a city full of murderers, rapists, and generally wicked people was a place to party, but Drake was the definition of a masochist. He would see a city of death as home, sweet home.

Warrick didn’t have a kill shot, and that was the only reason I could imagine for Drake to still be standing. All it would take was one missed shot to set off a chain reaction of bullets and blood.

I wanted to see Drake bleeding under my boot just as much as he did, but I wasn’t throwing my knife, either. Something wasn’t right.

“What are you doing here, Drake?” I growled.

He laughed. It was an awful, rasping noise. His black eyes met mine, the same way they had when he stabbed me twice and left me to die. I blocked out the memory, keeping away the phantom pain of a knife sliding into my stomach and ribs.

“Had to pick something up for the boss,” he said mockingly. “You can imagine how fussy he is.”

My blood went cold, and I barely heard Dro’s sharp intake of breath. I could picture Sephiel’s face tightening with anger. Drake looked at all of us, relishing the hatred, pain, and fear we radiated. I controlled it as best as I could, knowing answers were more important than revenge right now.

“What the fuck did you do?” I asked again.

His grin widened, and this time he only looked at me. “It isn’t what I did. It’s what I’m going to do.” He dipped his chin, fixing me with his black gaze. “He’s got plans for you, chica. Serious plans. So much detail has gone into them that even your ex isn’t allowed to intervene. Matt’s pretty pissed about that too.”

Not as pissed as he would be if he heard you calling him ‘Matt.’

“See, I found something really, really special.” Drake continued. “It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.”

My stomach turned. I expected him to say something about wanting Dro. My sister was the real supernatural force in our group. I was human, born and raised. I’d never been anything but. I didn’t want to be.

Whatever was being planned for me by Drake, my former lover, and the creature I feared above anything else could only involve pain. A substantial amount of it.

I’d been on the receiving end of their tortures before. I had no intention of going through them again.

Though if they wanted me for something, they wouldn’t risk shooting me. They would take me alive.

No, they’re not. They’re going to try. And they’re going to fail.

I took a risk myself, and threw my silver knife at Drake.

I didn’t miss–I hardly ever miss–but I didn’t hit my mark.

The thin silver blade slammed into the neck of the Possessor standing beside Drake. The huge bounty hunter had stepped to the side so the blade wouldn’t get anywhere near him. He stepped so far I was a little embarrassed at how off my aim had been. Deep down, I knew better. Drake was fast for someone his size, but it looked like he’d gotten quite a bit from his deal with the Devil.

The man lurched, blood gushing from the wound in his neck. He opened his mouth as though to scream, but a spiral of thick black smoke shot out of his mouth. The Possessor’s true form screeched and twisted away in the back room. Then room exploded into action.

At first I thought the Possessors were going to shoot us. At their cores, they were still gangsters. Yet as soon as I surged forward, I saw them hesitate.

They were here to stall us, not kill us. At least not me, and probably not Dro.

Everyone else though… they were fair game.

Two shots cracked in rapid succession. None of the bullets hit me, though two of the possessed Blood Thorns dropped from the bullets that crashed into their skulls, scaring the Possessors out of their vessel’s dying mouths. Warrick had exceptional aim, and

shooting demons with blessed silver bullets was good way to keep them from returning to rip us apart.

I went for Drake, who was backing away to escape through the storeroom exit. Fucking coward.

Two Possessors blocked my path. They tucked their guns away and threw out their fists. I skidded to a stop and stepped back, one of their clenched hands brushing along my temple.

Admittedly, I didn’t think this whole plan through. Seeing the man who murdered my mentor, kidnapped my sister, tortured and tried to kill me sparked my already short temper. So it wasn’t long before they got their shots in.

The man on my left jabbed his fist into my ribs. I winced, giving the man on the right the chance to loop his arm around my throat. I was pinned to his back, my neck straining painfully as he wrenched it up. I used one hand to claw at the meaty arm on my throat, leaving my front completely exposed to the second man. He grinned, thinking he was going to get some revenge on me for the sake of his employers.

Stupid bastard forgot I was still armed.

He pulled back his fist to hit me, and even as his fist was flying for my face, I was moving. I kicked him in the knee with one foot, making him stumble. His fist brushed over my shoulder and into the chest of the man choking me. I kicked his stomach with my other foot, making him double over. Then I sliced the blade of my hatchet into his exposed neck.

Blood squirted out of his severed carotid artery, painting the dirty floor before he collapsed onto it.

The man behind me growled and slammed his fist into my kidneys. I winced at the crushing pain. He was so much stronger now that he was possessed. His grip tightened on my neck, causing black spots to dance in front of my eyes. The Possessor’s free hand shot out to catch my wrist and keep the hatchet away from him. He squeezed until I thought he was going to break my hand.

Then he stiffened and released his hold. A warm liquid peppered my neck, filling the air with the coppery smell of blood. I pitched forward, touching my throat and coughing to get back the oxygen I’d missed. Assured that my neck wasn’t broken, I turned around to see what had saved me.

My little sister stood over the Possessor, the knife in her hand dripping fresh blood onto the floor. The man crab walked away, blood oozing from his fingers as he tried to put pressure on the wound in his throat. He looked terrified of my sister.

At first glance, Dro wasn’t the kind of girl anyone would be afraid of. She was sixteen, and utterly beautiful with the face of a saint. Her skin was flawless and paper pale. Long white hair rested in a braid along her back, ending at the base of her spine. But over the last few weeks, there was a darkness lurking behind her ice blue eyes. A danger that needed to be avoided at all costs.

A malevolence that reminded me of her father.

“What did Drake steal?” she demanded in a cold voice that didn’t belong to her.

“We– we never knew,” the Possessor pleaded. Usually these were the kinds of demons that toyed with their prey. The demon that possessed me had felt Dro’s power, which meant this one must have been sensing it too. I started to understand why he was so afraid.

“We were just told to wait here. They knew you’d be looking for him, and we were supposed to keep you from killing him.”

I glanced at the back door. It was open, and Max was beside it, keeping Warrick from going through. He was likely trying to explain that the revenge-crazed demon slayer wasn’t going to be able to find his nemesis tonight. Warrick was standing profile to me, though I could only imagine the anger burning in his neon green eyes.

“You’re lying.”

Dro’s hollow tone made me look at her again. My eyes flicked down when I saw the light coming from her left hand. Blazing white flames were curling around her wrist, clawing their way up her arm. The Possessor’s eyes widened as he stared at the hellfire she was controlling. He’d probably seen what it could do, and I didn’t blame him for being scared.

“I’m not!” the Possessor cried, snapping me out of my thoughts. His voice was becoming hoarse from the blood loss. “I’m not, I swear!”

I’d been in this situation before. You accused someone of lying, they said they weren’t, and then you started beating the truth out of them. Eventually, you got the answer you wanted. I could tell when someone was putting on a façade, and when they were being honest.

This demon didn’t know shit.

“Dro,” I croaked. I muted my cough. She still didn’t hear me. The fires continued to rise up her arms.

“Dro, that’s enough,” I warned her.

She didn’t listen to me, clenching her fist and increasing the light from the flames until I could no longer see the outline of her hand.

“Andromeda,” I half shouted.

My adopted sister turned her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Her eyes locked on mine, and I was amazed at all the anger she was holding back. It softened when she saw me, but not nearly as much as I wanted it to.

“He doesn’t know anything,” I told her. “We’re done here.”

Dro twisted her head back to the dying Possessor, white hair swishing against her back. The hellfire dulled and evaporated from her fist. She looked at the bloody knife in her hand, then went still.

This was the first time Dro had ever killed a human on purpose with her bare hands.

I walked to my sister. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped under my touch, glancing back at me. I saw the terrified, ashamed little girl who would never forgive herself for this. I wasn’t happy with that, but it was better than seeing the look of a cold-blooded murderer.

These days, I took what I could get with Dro.

“Go outside with the guys. Make sure Drake’s not waiting to trap us, and that Warrick doesn’t chase after him.”

Dro’s light eyes held my dark ones. “I don’t need to go outside. I can do that from in here.”

I clutched her shoulder just a little harder. “No. You don’t need your powers for this.”

“But–”

“No.”

One look at her narrowed eyes and harsh frown told me that we were going to fight about this later. Probably the moment I saw her again outside.

Regardless, Dro put her knife on her belt, glanced at the dying Possessor one last time, and stormed to the front door. Her guardian and ex-angel Sephiel gave me a small nod. He would protect her from anything while I wasn’t there. As he followed my aggravated sister, I watched Max hesitantly show Warrick the front door. He was smart not to touch him. Warrick looked ready to punch the lights out of the first person that crossed him.

Once they were gone, I picked up my silver throwing knife and sheathed it in my jacket. The other Possessors had vacated their human vessels, leaving behind their dead bodies. Usually Possessors put up more of fight than this. I couldn’t help but remember that they were fodder for something much more sinister. I stood by the dying Possessor, who was now flat on his back and choking on his own blood. Possessors hated to leave their vessels, but I wasn’t going to exorcise him. I didn’t have the time, and even if I did, he was a dead man. The wound in his throat was too grievous. The Possessor was the only thing keeping him “alive.”

I knelt beside his head, dangling the hatchet in front of my knee. When my eyes locked onto his, they weren’t filled with the pain I’d expected them to be. If anything, he seemed proud. Whatever his goal had been, he appeared to have accomplished it.

“Tell me something useful, and I’ll end it,” I told him.

The Possessor made a noise between a rasp and a gurgle. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing.

“Not… long… now,” he choked out. “She’ll be… his… soon…”

He grinned, blood staining his teeth. I decided against the mercy killing. I slowly pushed myself up, ignoring the aches and pains in my body. I walked around the shop, looking through the cabinets and drawers to salvage anything I could. I found some packets of dried and canned food, as well as some bottles of lukewarm water. I never once looked back at the dying Possessor, knowing it couldn’t take me over since I had an anti-possession sigil tattooed over my heart.

Yet I couldn’t shake the foreboding words the Possessor had given me. As I walked out of the store and back into the dark, bloody streets, I recalled what Drake said.

See, I found something really, really special. It’s the last thing we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.

There was only one reason Drake, Mateo, and Lucifer himself would target me.

They wanted to capture my sister.

Author Bio:

Amy is a Canadian urban fantasy and horror author. Her work revolves around monsters, magic, mythology, and mayhem. She started writing in her early teens, and never stopped. She loves building unique worlds filled with fun characters and intense action. She is the recipient of April Moon Books Editor Award for “author voice, world-building and general bad-assery,” and the One Book Two Standout Award in 2015 for her Cursed trilogy. She has been featured on various author blogs and publishing websites, and is an active member of the Writing GIAM and Weekend Writing Warrior communities. When she isn’t writing, she’s reading, watching movies, taking photos, gaming, and struggling with chocoholism and ice cream addiction.

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Daughter of Magic
Teresa Roman
Publication date: March 15th 2016
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Lilli sees things no one else does.

Desperate to make sense of the dreams and visions that have plagued her since childhood, Lilli confides in Devin, her closest friend, and the boy she’s fallen for.

Instead of questioning her sanity, Devin confesses to secrets of his own, which are far darker. His revelations about magic, witches and demons stun Lilli. But it’s what he knows about Lilli’s mother, long believed to be dead, that leaves her feeling betrayed. Despite her anger, Lilli will have to learn to trust Devin again, because he is the only one who can protect her from a dark danger that’s coming for her from a world away.

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EXCERPT:

“Everybody needs a hero, Lilli. I want to be yours. You just have to let me.” He reached out to brush my hair over my shoulder.

I didn’t know what to make of his words. I wanted them to mean something—that he’d begun to feel about me the way I did for him. But it was probably wishful thinking. Knowing Devin, the reason for his extra kindness was because of what happened to my father.

“After all the things you’ve done for me, I think you hit hero status quite a while ago.” I kept my voice light, even though I meant every word. Not only did he get me a job—not an easy feat in Crescent City where unemployment was rampant—but he was the first person besides my aunt that I ever felt comfortable talking to about my mother. And if he hadn’t been with me when I found my dad, I don’t know how I ever would’ve gotten past the shock.

He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “You’ve been crying.” His hand moved to my cheek. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say; of course you’ve been crying.”

Staring into Devin’s eyes, feeling his hand on my cheek, made me feel better and worse at the same time. He had no idea how impossibly hard it was to be around him when all I wanted was for him to kiss me, to tell me he needed me as badly as I did him. I lowered my gaze and he dropped his hand.

 

Author Bio:

Teresa currently lives in beautiful Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and a dog named Parker that her son convinced them to adopt. When she’s not at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing, or with her head buried in another book. If you’d like to find out more about her, she can be found at http://www.teresaromanwrites.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive book release information.

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