Friday, August 18, 2017

Review, The Sky Throne Chris Ledbetter

Amazon   Nook  Author Website 

When the family of young Zeus is attacked by Hyperion, Zeus's mother is knocked unconscious and his best friend is left for dead. Stacking epic insult upon fatal injury, Zeus discovers the woman who raised him is not his biological mother. But to ensure her safety while she recovers, a heavyhearted Zeus leaves her behind to seek answers at Mount Olympus Preparatory Academia. Zeus embarks on a quest to discover who ordered the attack on his home, avenge the death of his friend, and find his birth mother. When some of his new schoolmates vanish, Zeus's quest is turned upside down, and the only way to make things right is to access the power of the Sky Throne, confront a most dangerous enemy, and take his life back. On his way to becoming king of the Greek gods, Zeus will learn to seize power, neutralize his enemies, and fall in love.

Chris Ledbetter, author of Drawn and Inked, Caenus and the Quiver of Artemis, is one of those authors that are in the insta-buy category. His world building is so precise and his characters are so tri-dimensional that there’s no hesitation when I hear he’s got a new book out. 
The Sky Throne, his latest book, doesn’t disappoint. In fact it has filled, quite well, the need to read more books which not only revisit The Greeks, but re-make their stories into new and exciting ones.

Action packed -checked
Fun  -checked
Romance, d’uh, it’s Zeus…  -checked
Hot-headed competition between rival schools  -checked
Page turning story    -checked-checked-checked

You don’t have to be a Greek mythology buff to enjoy the story. The characters, the settings and the story itself will take you through a roller coaster ride that will keep you on the edge of your seat. 

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Writing Wednesday: Henry and Gracie and London sale until the end of the month

When I started writing 'Henry and Gracie' back in 2014, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted London to feature throughout the book. After all Henry and Gracie both live and work in the City.

If you're familiar with my Chronicles of the Interred series, you'll probably know that London and I have been in a relationship for a long time. Not only did I get to live there for almost an entire decade, but even back when I was ten, I was planning an escape route that would lead me there. So it's not really surprising, or maybe it isn't now, that I dedicated 'Henry and Gracie' to the city that gave me so much.

So if you would like to explore some of those places in 'Henry and Gracie', you can visit the book's board on Pinterest: Here.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Writing Wednesday: Henry and Gracie Playlist

Just a reminder, Henry and Gracie will be on sale until August 31st. :)
And if you would like to have a listen, this is Henry and Gracie's playlist. :) 

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Available Today! Henry and Gracie
Turning the big 3-0 isn’t easy. It’s even more difficult when well-meaning friends decide you need to stop being single and find your Prince Charming. Add in a series of never-ending bad blind dates and this is all too familiar territory for Gracie Marquez.

What Gracie’s friends don’t know is that she’s been in a nine year “friends with benefits” relationship with her best friend, the dashing Henry Huntingdon the Third. The pressure of turning another year older has Gracie questioning the nature of their relationship. Emotions run high and jealousy threatens to tear them apart. Has Gracie’s Prince Charming been in front of her eyes or has Henry been keeping her from finding true love?


Henry pulls away to lead me down the street toward Covent Garden. “So, Leticia strikes again?” he asks, referring to my date before a short pause. I nod. “Who was it this time?”

“A guy from the city,” I answer, hoping he’s leaving it at that, though, knowing Henry, he’s going to scratch at this piece of information until he’s managed to get all the dirty details.
Henry’s eyes widen and amusement sparkles in those mischievous blue eyes. “A guy from the city,” he repeats before bursting into another fit of laughter.

“Yes, Natesh,” I groan, refusing to continue looking at him.

“Someone who works with her husband?” he presses on, having way too much fun. “Doesn’t she know that you hate snobby types?” Henry asks, his voice taking on an accusatory tone as I finally glance at him and smile. “From now on, you should tell her to consult with me before fixing you up on any more blind dates.”

“Definitely,” I agree, but the sarcasm in my voice makes him glance my way with a playful smile on his lips before looking away. “He didn’t stop talking about his Mom.” I sigh, going for a dramatic tone. “And how he likes the very best.”

“Wanker,” Henry replies before letting out a loud chuckle. “Speaking of mothers,” he starts as I throw my hands in the air.

Henry’s been trying to get me to see my parents for the last few months. The way this conversation always starts is by him saying those exact words: Speaking of mothers. I don’t want him to meet my parents or my American friends in person. He’ll charm them all and then my mother will fall in love with him and wonder why we’re not a couple. Shouldn’t it be enough that they know he’s a really good and close friend of mine?

“Not yours,” he tells me, flicking at my nose with a teasing smile before he looks ahead. “My mother said that if you’re still single by Christmas, we should both go to visit her in Germany,” he tells me as we make a left and walk for a few minutes until we find the small shop that sells crêpes and waffles.

“Who is she going to pair us up with this time?” I ask, meanwhile my voice, full of dread, is met by the amusement spreading quickly over his features.

Sometimes I hate him.

“Get this: her neighbor has a son and a daughter, both single,” he replies.

“No, thank you. Remember Hans? I’m done with Germany,” I remind him and he laughs harder, pulling me with him inside the cafe.

Henry’s arm has maneuvered around me while we wait in line. My body’s against his as his hand rests against my back. His lips brush lazily against my temple, sending my pulse into overdrive.

I force my eyes on the menu board, ignoring the way his lips brush against my ear. “It’s too bad you’re out of service,” he says, changing the subject. His voice is lethal: deep and soft. It makes me melt like vanilla ice cream under hot fudge. The weakness returns to my knees and my mind goes into a lustful haze. However, it doesn’t take long for something to stir me out of it and let the full weight of his words fall on me.

“What?” I ask, trying hard to escape the obscene look in his eyes, which makes my body hum with renewed energy.

“Well, I’d rather eat the Nutella off your body.” 

Author Biography

Marilyn Jeulin is the author of Henry and Gracie. Born in the Wild West and raised in a tropical paradise, Marilyn has always had a thirst for a good story and adventure. She’s a huge fan of Anne Rice, Stephen King, GRR Martin, and JK Rowling.
Mom of two boys, and wife to the Frenchman, Marilyn is also an avid gamer, who spends way too much time on Facebook and Instagram.
Her next title, Closer to the Edge, is a New Adult thriller involving a rock god, a transatlantic vacation, and a terrorist attack. Closer to the Edge will be the first book in the Estevez siblings’ series, and will be available: 2018.
Connect with Marilyn:
Twitter: @LynAlmodovar

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Teaser Tuesday, Henry and Gracie's first chapter

Available to pre-order 99cents

Chapter One

Nine years ago

I’ve never gone on a blind date. Actually, I’ve always been that girl who laughs at people who talk about blind dates as if this was the most amazing way to meet people. However, there is always a first time. In an effort to keep my nerves under control, I reach for the champagne flute that Franky poured for me, but is still untouched. He clicks his tongue. Obediently, I let my hands clasp together over my lap after returning the glass to the vanity and sigh, defeated.
“So, who is this guy you invited to sweep me off my feet?” I ask, mildly curious. The truth is that I’m in no shape to start dating again. Not after what happened with Jared.
“I’ve told you twice, Gracie,” his answer carries some exasperation, which in turn makes me apologize with a lame ‘sorry’.
Kirk Belen’s classic Mercy is playing downstairs as our friend Marc is welcoming guests to my twenty-first. In the meantime, I’m trying to sit as patiently as I can, and wait for Franky to finish applying what looks like copious amount of eye shadow to my eyes.
“Henry Huntingdon the Third,” Franky adds, his footsteps announcing that he’s moved back to the vanity and I groan inwardly, hoping he’s not putting more make-up on me.
“The Third, wow!” I reply, fixing him with a mischievous smile, hoping he doesn’t get hung up on the sarcasm dripping from my voice. However, Franky knows me oh, so well. He shoots me a chiding look before I close my eyes again.
 “Yes, but you won’t have to curtsy.” There’s a smile in his voice as he teases me; at least I know he’s not mad. “He’s twenty-eight and perfect for you to get over Jared,” he declares, making it sound as if I were dying of a broken heart.
“I am over Jared,” I protest, keeping my eyes closed. It’s a lie, of course, but it’s better than admitting out loud that I’m still hurting.
My thoughts pull me away from Franky and the party. They go back to just a few nights ago. Jared proposed to me to hide a deeper and darker secret: he cheated on me. In a way, I’m glad things are out in the open, but I can’t hide the way my heart felt when it was torn by his words. One night after he proposed, he called me up on the cell phone and said: I can’t do this, I cheated on you.
“Yes, sure, you’re over Jared like I’m over Orangina and rum,” Franky says, his voice bringing me back to reality.
“What does Henry Huntingdon, the Third do again?” I probe, feigning interest and refraining from telling him that drink he likes so much is disgusting.
“His father is a publisher. He works as a talent scout and he also travels around a lot, acquiring manuscripts, stealing authors, sleeping with authors, etcetera.” Franky replies. The disapproval is clear in his voice, prompting me to peek at him from under my eyelashes. He runs a hand through his honey-colored hair and then adds, “I’m sure you’ll have loads to talk about. You work with actors, models, and singers, and soon you’ll also be poaching people from other agencies…like Henry does.”
“Hardly, I’m still training to be an agent,” I reply before I catch my reflection in the mirror and words escape me. He’s done it again; my make-up is picture perfect. I groan inwardly, bemoaning the fact that I suck at applying make-up and I’ll probably never look this good again.
“You look great. Let me finish the hair,” he says as I roll my eyes, knowing he’s going to spray the whole new hairspray can over my tresses. “Anyway, he’s single. Not in the market for a relationship. And it’s great because you need to get laid and not complicate your life.”
“So, he’s a man-whore and you’re turning me into a slut,” I tell him, looking at the dark and gold eye shadow covering my eyes and the delicate liner turning my otherwise simple look into a very old-fashioned, but somehow chic one.
“Not a slut,” he corrects me and punctuates his annoyance with a huff. “You need to move on. And from what I’ve heard about Henry, he’ll definitely help you with that.” Franky states, waggling his eyebrows before I throw the nearest pillow at him.
“Come on, you’ll thank me in the morning.”
“How can you be so sure that he’ll even like me?” I ask before he lets out a dramatic sigh while undoing the hot rollers in my hair. “Or that I’ll actually have a one-night stand? I’ve never done that. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with him on the first night after meeting him,” I add, trying hard to remain still.
“Because he’s a ginger man with a thing for ginger girls,” he tells me as I stick my tongue out at him.
“Great, so now I’m a fetish?”
“Plus, he’s seen you at the gym. I know he’s totally into you,” he adds, putting the rollers on the vanity. “And I’m sure that when you see him, you’ll change your tune.”
I know I should trust Franky, he’s, after all, a good friend, but after the Jared fiasco, my brain’s telling me to run for the hills. “How come he’s single? Don’t answer… he’s probably a good looking but crazy stalker.”
“Ye of little faith,” he tells me with a look that says he’s thinking about something else to add. “Well, even though I shouldn’t tell you this, I will. Because Henry won’t ever tell you himself,” he pauses while I frown, “he was married.”
“Oh, great, a divorced man,” I say disapprovingly.
“A widower,” Franky corrects me. “He married young, at twenty-three. By twenty-four he was working with his father here in London. His wife was working in the city. She was expecting their first baby,” he runs his hands through my hair, making sure the curls are perfect. “One day, after meeting her parents at Canary Wharf, she was on her way to work and a fight broke out in the Tube. Henry’s wife was too close to the edge of the platform, and someone unintentionally pushed her. She fell on the tracks as a fast train went by.” He sighs sadly before taking a step back.
The scene plays in my head as my eyes prickle. I can’t imagine the pain he went through, or him getting over losing his young bride and baby in four short years. There’s no way anyone can get over that.
 “I guess his lack of commitment stems from that.”
“Ya’ think?” I blink away the tears before grabbing one of the tissues from the box on the vanity.
“It’s been four years, I’m sure he’s ready to move on,” he assures me. “Or, at least, he’s ready to shag with no attachments.”
“That’s what you think,” I sulk, staring at the tissue in my hand.
“Well, I’ve known him for six years. He was hardly a regular at my uncle’s gym when I met him, but after that happened; he came to box every night. Then I heard the stories from the girls. Actually, I had to make sure he would stop sleeping with the women at the gym.” He explains with a wink. “What are you afraid of? It’s not like you’re going to fall madly in love with him,” he says, reaching for the hairspray once more. “Cover your eyes.”
A party back home in the States usually involved my friends sprawled over the house like they belonged. We would play video games, or board games. In the summer, my parents put up a huge projector screen in the garden, and we would sit around in lawn chairs watching movies and drinking soda until dawn.
London parties, in contrast, are painfully grown-up. Most of the guests are waiting patiently in the back garden of Franky’s West London house, with a drink in hand and huddled under the heaters.
Once the greeting of the guests starts, Franky’s like a peacock. He struts around kissing, hugging, and shaking hands. Many of the guests are people who I’ve only met once before. At least, he managed to invite my new colleagues, who all seem nice and completely drunk by the time I get to them.
“Here you go,” he hands me another glass of champagne as I eagerly reach for it. “Oh, he’s here!” He grins, looking to the door with no subtleness at all.
Marc, Franky’s best friend, is talking animatedly with Henry Huntingdon the Third, waiting for his coat. A smile plays on his lips as he takes the coat off and hands it to Marc, who looks ecstatic. At least someone is laughing at what is probably one of his lame jokes. My eyes stay on Henry, noticing how his eyes crinkle when he laughs and I can’t help but smile.
As my eyes move away from his face, I notice that Henry is rather tall. Marc and Franky are both six feet tall, and Henry towers easily over them by a few inches. The black turtleneck he wears wraps tightly around the well-defined biceps as I tell myself to stop ogling him. His crystal blue eyes scan the place before meeting mine. The smile on his perfect lips knocks the air out of me. I notice how he runs his fingers carelessly through his ginger hair, not caring that he’s messing it up. I would swoon, but I’m trying hard to remember that Franky’s pawning me like a freaking two cent hooker.