A Love Hate Thing by Whitney D. Grandison | Blog Tour

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I am so excited to be teamed up with Harlequin Trade Publishing and Inkyard Press to bring A LOVE HATE THING to ya’lls attention! If you’re a fan of hate to love romance, this YA contemp is definitely for you! Check below for all of the details on how to pre-order the book, info about the author and a small excerpt of the first chapter. Out everywhere January 7th!

 

SUMMARY

9781335016041_SHC_prdA fantastic enemies to lovers romance about an It girl whose world is upended when a boy from the past moves into her house after tragedy strikes. For fans of Ibi Zoboi’s Pride, Mary H. K. Choi and Samira Ahmed. Wattpad author Whitney D. Grandison’s traditional publishing debut.

When they’re stuck under one roof, the house may not be big enough for their hate…or their love.

When Tyson Trice finds himself tossed into the affluent coastal community of Pacific Hills, he’s ready for the questions, the stares, and the total feeling of not belonging in the posh suburb. Not that he cares. After recovering from being shot and surviving the mean streets of Lindenwood, he doesn’t care about anyone or anything. He doesn’t even care how the rest of his life will play out.

In Pacific Hills, image is everything. Something that, as the resident golden girl, Nandy Smith knows all too well. She’s spent most of her life building the pristine image that it takes to fit in. After learning that her parents are taking in a former childhood friend, Nandy fears her summer plans, as well as her reputation, will go up in flames. It’s the start of summer vacation and the last thing Nandy needs is some juvenile delinquent from the ’Wood crashing into her world.

Stuck together in close quarters, Trice and Nandy are in for some long summer nights. Only, with the ever-present pull back to the Lindenwood streets, it’ll be a wonder if Trice makes it through this summer at all.

EXCERPT

1| TRICE

Getting shot isn’t the worst part. It’s the aftermath that really fucks you up.

Six months ago, on a dark December night, I was lying in a pool of my own blood on the living room floor. Six months later, I was sitting in a car on the way to a new town to start fresh. In some ways, yeah, the wound had healed. In others, it never would. I didn’t care, though. The last thing I’d cared about got me where I was.

“You’ll like it there, Tyson. The Smiths have prepared a new home for you,” Misty from social services was saying as she drove the long stretch of highway toward Pacific Hills. It was only an hour away from where I used to live in Lindenwood, California.

I didn’t respond. Home was a meaningless word to me now.

Misty peeked at me. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I can leave as soon as I turn eighteen, right?” That was all that mattered. Fuck the rest. Five months, aka one hundred and sixty days, to go. On November twelfth, I’d be free.

Misty sighed. “Look, I know what you’re going through—”

“Word? You’ve been shot too and all’at?” I glanced her way. This lady was going home to a millionthreadcount sheetandpillowcase set, resting easy once I was off her hands.

Fuck outta here.

“Well, no, but—”

“Then shut up.” I faced the road ahead, done talking. 

Misty let out a breath, her light tan skin no doubt holding a blush upon her cheeks. “Do you kiss your—” She caught herself, as if realizing where she was about to go. “I—I’m sorry. You just shouldn’t speak that way.”

I felt an ache in my chest, but I let it go.

I didn’t care.

Half a beat later Misty was rambling on about food. “Do you wanna stop and get something to eat, you must be starving.”

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“Oh, well, are you nervous?”

I hadn’t thought about being nervous or the fact that I would never return home again and lead a normal life. Not like I’d ever led one to begin with.

“No.”

“Well, good. Think of it as going to a sleepover at an old friend’s house.”

One thing was true, the Smiths were old friends, but this setup was for the next five months.

“It’s been ten years since I last saw them,” I spoke up. “This ain’t no damn sleepover, and it’s not about to be all kumbaya, neither.”

At least they were black. Moving into the uppity setting of Pacific Hills was sure to be hell, but at least I would be with a black family. Even if I wouldn’t exactly fit in.

I didn’t look the same. I didn’t act the same. I wasn’t the same. And I didn’t care.

“Tyson—”

“It’s Trice.” I had asked her to call me that from jump street. No one called me Tyson.

I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about anything. I didn’t care.

“Trice, please, try? I know it’s been rough these past few months, but you have a chance at something fresh. The Smiths are good people, and Pacific Hills is a lovely town. I’m sure soon you’ll be close to your old self.”

Misty had no clue what she was talking about. My old self? She obviously hadn’t paid attention to my file, or she would’ve been smart enough to leave it at fresh and not bring up my past.

Tyson Trice was dead.

He died on the floor in the living room that day, and he was never coming back.

When I didn’t respond, Misty let up, probably getting that I didn’t give a shit either way.

I didn’t care.

WHERE TO BUY

Harlequin| AmazonBarnes & Noble |Indie BoundKoboBooks-a-MillionGoogle Play

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

WhitneyGrandison_Credit_JenniferMPhotographyWhitney D. Grandison was born and raised in Akron, Ohio, where she currently resides. A lover of stories since she first picked up a book, it’s no surprise she’s taken to writing her own. Some of her works can be found on Wattpad, one of the largest online story sharing platforms, where she has acquired over 30,000 followers and an audience of over fifteen million dedicated readers.

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair | Blog Tour

A TOUCH OF DARKNESS

A Touch of Darkness-high

Persephone is the Goddess of Spring by title only. The truth is, since she was a little girl, flowers have shriveled at her touch. After moving to New Athens, she hopes to lead an unassuming life disguised as a mortal journalist.

Hades, God of the Dead, has built a gambling empire in the mortal world and his favorite bets are rumored to be impossible.

After a chance encounter with Hades, Persephone finds herself in a contract with the God of the Dead and the terms are impossible: Persephone must create life in the Underworld or lose her freedom forever.

The bet does more than expose Persephone’s failure as a Goddess, however. As she struggles to sow the seeds of her freedom, love for the God of the Dead grows—and it’s forbidden.

On today’s post, I’m teaming up with Rockstar Book Tours again to share MORE about A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair! I posted the cover reveal a few days ago but today I’ll be sharing an excerpt from the book and a GIVEAWAY! Keep scrolling to learn more! Make sure to go to Southern Girl Bookaholic tomorrow to check out their post!

EXCERPT:

Hades dealt each of them five cards. Persephone looked at her hand and tried to remember what Hades had said about the different ranks. She laid her cards down, face up and the man did the same.

“You have a pair of queens,” he said. “And I have a full house.” 

“So…you won,” she said. 

“Yes,” he replied, and then claimed his prize immediately. “Who are you rebelling against?”

She smiled wryly. “My mother.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“You’ll have to win another hand if I’m going to answer.”

So, he dealt another and won again. This time, he didn’t ask the question, just looked at her expectantly. 

She sighed. “Because…she made me mad.”

He stared at her, waiting, and she smiled. “You never said the answer had to be detailed.”

His grin matched hers. “Noted for the future, I assure you.”

“The future?”

“Well, I hope this isn’t the last time we’ll play poker.” 

Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She should tell him this was the first and final time she would come to Nevernight. 

He dealt again and won. Persephone was getting tired of losing and answering this man’s questions. Why was he so interested in her anyway? Where was that woman he’d been with earlier?

“Why are you angry with your mother?”

She considered this question for a moment, and then said, “Because…she wants me to be something I cannot.” Persephone dropped her gaze to the cards, and then said, “I don’t understand why people do this.”

He tilted his head, as if questioning. “You are not enjoying our game?”

“I am,” she said. “But…I don’t understand why people play Hades. Why do they want to sell their soul to him?”

“They don’t agree to a game because they want to sell their soul,” he said. “They do it because they think they can win.”

“Do they? Win?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does that anger him, you think?” The question was meant to remain a thought in her head, and yet the words slipped out between her lips. 

He smirked, and she could feel it deep in her gut. 

“Darling, I win either way.”

Her eyes went wide, and her heart stuttered. She stood quickly and his name slipped out of her mouth like a curse. 

“Hades.”

Pub. Date: May 23, 2019
Publisher: Scarlett St. Clair
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 438
Find it: GoodreadsAmazonKindle, TBD

ABOUT SCARLETT:

Scarlett.pngScarlett St. Clair lives in Oklahoma with her husband. She has a Master’s degree in Library Science and Information Studies and spends a lot of time researching reincarnation, unsolved murders and Greek mythology–all of which made it into her debut novel, When Stars Come Out.

Sign up for Scarlett’s newsletter!

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page | YouTube | Pinterest | Tumblr

GIVEAWAY:

Click here for a chance to win an Amazon gift card!

TOUR SCHEDULE:

Week One:

10/28/2019 Bookaholic Brittany Excerpt
10/28/2019 BookHounds Excerpt
10/29/2019 Geronimo Reads Excerpt
10/29/2019 Southern Girl Bookaholic Excerpt
10/30/2019 A Dream Within A Dream Excerpt
10/30/2019 What A Nerd Girl Says Review
10/31/2019 A Gingerly Review Excerpt
10/31/2019 Lifestyle Of Me Review
11/1/2019 Book Briefs Review
11/1/2019 Reese’s Reviews Review

Week Two:

11/4/2019 Novel Novice Excerpt
11/4/2019 Sometimes Leelynn Reads Review
11/5/2019 PopTheButterfly Reads Review
11/5/2019 Fire and Ice Review
11/6/2019 Nerdophiles Review
11/6/2019 Jena Brown Writes Review
11/7/2019 Ramblings of a Book Nerd Review
11/7/2019 Shelf-Rated Review
11/8/2019 The Pages In-Between  Review
11/8/2019 Treestand Book Reviews Review

 

Girls Like Us by Randi Pink | Blog Tour

GIRLS LIKE US

I am SO excited to be working with Rockstar Book Tours to share GIRLS LIKE US by Randi Pink  releasing Tuesday! Be sure to scroll to read an excerpt and a chance to win a copy of the book!

 

Girls Like Us coverSet in the summer of 1972, this moving YA historical novel is narrated by teen girls from different backgrounds with one thing in common: Each girl is dealing with pregnancy.

Four teenage girls. Four different stories. What they all have in common is that they’re dealing with unplanned pregnancies.

In rural Georgia, Izella is wise beyond her years, but burdened with the responsibility of her older sister, Ola, who has found out she’s pregnant. Their young neighbor, Missippi, is also pregnant, but doesn’t fully understand the extent of her predicament. When her father sends her to Chicago to give birth, she meets the final narrator, Susan, who is white and the daughter of an anti-choice senator.

Randi Pink masterfully weaves four lives into a larger story – as timely as ever – about a woman’s right to choose her future.

EXCERPT:

“Come here, you.” Mrs. Mac lifted her unsteady hand. Her hand reminded Ola of the screen door hanging on its hinges. “I’ll read you.”

Ola walked forward, intentionally ignoring the mess at her feet. She wanted to be read. She wanted to know if her and Walter’s picket fence would be white or red. She wanted to find out, once and for all, how many kids they’d have. She wanted to look into her beautiful future and know. She needed to know.

Ola looked at the old woman and smiled, she’d won. She was about to get read.

Mrs. Mac grabbed her hand tighter than Ola thought possible. She cried out in pain, but the old woman wouldn’t let go. The pain changed. It started as a simple squeeze, like when the nurse is taking blood pressure, and it turned into a heat like embers. Her hand burned so badly Ola felt tears streaming from the side of her eye. Just as quickly as she’d snatched her hand, the woman let go. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it felt like an hour.

Mrs. Mac stared wide eyed at the front of Ola’s neck. She squinted her blind eyes as if she was focusing in on a small bit of something near Ola’s Adam’s apple. “Lean in closer,” she said.

Ola leaned in a bit.

“Closer than that, you.”

She leaned in closer still.

Squinting at Ola’s neck, Mrs. Mac whispered, almost pitying, “You’ve got a heartbeat in your neck, gal.”

Izella leaped from her seated position and grasped her mouth in horror. But Ola had no idea what that meant. She grabbed her neck, thinking she’d been snake-bitten or rubbed too much into some poison oak. From the look on Izella’s face, it had to be bad. “What is it? What does that mean? What’s on me?”

“It ain’t what’s on you,” said Mrs. Mac. “It’s what’s in you. That garbageman already coming for you, child.”

Pub. Date: October 29, 2019
Publisher: Feiwel Friends
Pages: 320
Formats: Hardcover, eBook
Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, TBD

ABOUT RANDI:

RandiA native and resident of Birmingham, AL, Randi Pink leverages her unique experience with her southern roots when she writes. Randi is a mother, a wife, a writer, an advocate, a fighter, a friend, and so much more. Through a platform of encouragement, advice, and love, Randi loves connecting with the community around her and her loyal community of readers.

Randi Pink is a proud student of University of Alabama at Birmingham’s creative writing program. In 2013, Randi gained her inspiration for her first novel when working on an assignment for a Children’s Literature course. Although it was originally titled “TOYA”, Randi’s first novel  “Into White” was published in 2016 and can be found on the shelves of Barnes and Noble and Amazon. Read more about this novel here.

After publishing her first novel, Randi started got right to work on her second novel, “Girls Like Us”. Inspired by the passing of shocking policies for abortion and other threats to women’s rights in her home state as well as her nation, Randi decided it was time to humanize the faces behind abortion. “Girls Like Us” will hit the shelves in October 2019.

Randi continues to write every day, from short stories that you can find in Randi’s Room to personal writings for herself and her close network. Randi can be found promoting her next book, in her garden, and soaking up family time with her favorite people.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

 

GIVEAWAY:

Click here to enter for a chance to win a hardcover copy!

 

TOUR SCHEDULE:

Week One:

10/28/2019 Geronimo Reads Excerpt
10/28/2019 Kait Plus Books Excerpt
10/29/2019 Southern Girl Bookaholic Review
10/29/2019 BookHounds YA  Excerpt
10/30/2019 A Dream Within A Dream Excerpt
10/30/2019 BookishRealmReviews  Review
10/31/2019 Starlight Reads Review
10/31/2019 Not In Jersey Excerpt
11/1/2019 Cuz I’m a Nerd  Review
11/1/2019 Odd and Bookish Review

Week Two:

11/4/2019 Jena Brown Writes Review
11/4/2019 What A Nerd Girl Says Review
11/5/2019 Novel Novice Excerpt
11/5/2019 Lifestyle Of Me Review
11/6/2019 PopTheButterfly Reads Review
11/6/2019 Sometimes Leelynn Reads Review
11/7/2019 A Gingerly Review Review
11/7/2019 Here’s to Happy Endings Review
11/8/2019 The Pages In-Between  Review
11/8/2019 Do You Dog-ear? Review

Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts | Blog Tour

TUESDAY MOONEY

A dying billionaire sends one woman and a cast of dreamers and rivals on a citywide treasure hunt in this irresistible novel by the author of Bellweather Rhapsody.

Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts.Racculia

Tuesday Mooney is a loner. She keeps to herself, begrudgingly socializes, and spends much of her time watching old Twin Peaks and X-Files DVDs. But when Vincent Pryce, Boston’s most eccentric billionaire, dies—leaving behind an epic treasure hunt through the city, with clues inspired by his hero, Edgar Allan Poe—Tuesday’s adventure finally begins.

Puzzle-loving Tuesday searches for clue after clue, joined by a ragtag crew: a wisecracking friend, an adoring teen neighbor, and a handsome, cagey young heir. The hunt tests their mettle, and with other teams from around the city also vying for the promised prize—a share of Pryce’s immense wealth—they must move quickly. Pryce’s clues can’t be cracked with sharp wit alone; the searchers must summon the courage to face painful ghosts from their pasts (some more vivid than others) and discover their most guarded desires and dreams.

A deliciously funny ode to imagination, overflowing with love letters to art, from The Westing Game to Madonna to the Knights of the Round Table, Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts is the perfect read for thrill seekers, wanderers, word lovers, and anyone looking for an escape to the extraordinary.

I’m so excited to be working with Rockstar Book Tours for the first time on this post! Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts sounds like a book that is totally up my alley. I’ve had a few friends read it and LOVE it so I’m sure that ya’ll would love it to too! Below is an excerpt from the book, information about the author and a giveaway! Be sure to scroll to the bottom to check out other blog stops!

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Title: TUESDAY MOONEY TALKS TO GHOSTS
Author: Kate Racculia
Pub. Date: October 8, 2019
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook
Pages: 368
Find it: GoodreadsAmazonKindleAudibleB&NiBooksKoboTBD

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Kate RacculiaKate Racculia is a novelist living in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. She is the author of the novels This Must Be the Place and Bellweather Rhapsody, winner of the American Library Association’s Alex Award. Her third novel, Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts, will be published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in 2019.

Kate was a teenage bassoonist in her hometown of Syracuse, and studied illustration, design, Jane Austen, and Canada at the University of Buffalo. She moved to Boston to get her MFA from Emerson College, and stuck around for 11 years. She has been a cartoonist, a planetarium operator, a movie and music reviewer, a coffee jerk, a bookseller, a designer, a finance marketing proposal writer, and a fundraising prospect researcher. She teaches online for Grub Street, works at her local public library, and sings in the oldest Bach choir in America.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

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Brookline

2006

The Opened Tomb

The Tillerman house was dead. Over a century old, massive and stone, it lay slumped on its corner lot, exposed by the naked December trees and shrubs growing wildly over its corpse. It was ugly, neglected, and, despite its size, withered; a black hole of a house. If the real estate agent were the kind of person who ascribed personalities to properties — he was not — he would have said it was the loneliest house, he had ever sold.

His instincts told him this would be a strange, quick sale, with a giant commission. When he’d told the owner that, out of the blue, they had a buyer for the Tillerman house, some guy named “R. Usher,” the owner said, after a long pause, “Don’t sell it for a penny less than listed.” But the agent was anxious to get this over with. He had been inside the Tillerman house once before, and he hadn’t forgotten how it felt.

A figure appeared on the sidewalk, rounding the corner up the street. The agent shielded his eyes against the white winter sun to get a better look. A man. Wearing a long black coat and a giant black hat, broad and furry, something a Cossack might wear against the Siberian winter. The real estate agent smiled to himself. Yes. This was exactly the buyer you wanted when you were trying to sell a haunted house.

“Hello, young man!” said the figure, waving, ten feet away now. “I assume you’re the young man I’m supposed to meet. You are standing, after all, in front of the house I’d like to purchase.” A bright red and- purple-plaid scarf was looped around his neck, covering the lower half of his face. He pulled the scarf down with a red mitten to reveal a ridiculous curling white mustache. “Young man,” said the buyer, “allow me to introduce myself. Roderick Usher.” And he held out his hand.

The agent, while technically younger than the buyer, resented its being pointed out to him. He was years out of school, up and coming in Boston real estate, and, yes, selling this property for the listed price of $4.3 million would be a coup, but he wasn’t a young man. He was a man. He shook Mr. Usher’s hand and gestured to the property. “Shall we go inside?” he said and pressed the quaver out of his voice.

Dead leaves crackled beneath their shoes as they walked under the portico and up the front steps. The lock to the Tillerman house was newly installed, but the key never wanted to work. The agent turned it to the left gently, then the right, then the left again. “What a beauty she is,” said Mr. Usher, his hands clasped behind his back, head tipped up to take in the carvings around the door, flowers reduced to geometric lines and patterns, a strange mishmash of Arts and Crafts, Nouveau and Deco, that didn’t jibe with what the agent knew about when it was built. It was almost as if the house had continued to build itself long after it was abandoned. “If she’s this lovely on the outside,” said Mr. Usher, “I can’t imagine what —”

The lock turned at last, and the agent pushed the door open.

The first thing that struck him was the smell. Of rot and garbage, of meat gone rancid, of animals that had been dying in the walls for decades. He pressed the back of his suit sleeve to his nose without thinking, then lowered it, eyes watering. The house had no electricity — when it was first built it did, but the wiring hadn’t been up to code since Woodrow Wilson was president — but it did have enormous ground-floor windows on one side of the great hall, which cast light throughout the first floor and down into the vestibule. It was enough to see by. It had been enough, on the agent’s previous showing with a buyer, for the buyer to take one look around and say, “Let’s get out of here now.”

Let’s get out of here now, said the agent’s brain.

“What a glorious — oh — oh my!” said Mr. Usher, and swept past him into the house. He took off his giant furry hat, clutched it in both hands at his chest, and spun back to the agent. Grinning. His front teeth were large and crooked. “My goodness, do you know what you have here? Can you feel it?”

He didn’t wait for the agent to answer, and charged up the steps, through the archway, and into the great hall.

The agent followed, slowly. His feet did not want to move. It was exactly what had happened to him the last time he entered the Tillerman house: his body did not want to be here. An uncontrollable part of his brain — his otherwise rational, adult brain — reacted to this place as though he were six years old. Six years old, and pissing himself on Halloween because his big brother, in a scuffed and stage-blood-spattered hockey mask, leapt out at him from the dark.

He cleared his throat. Took the steps one at a time. Until he was standing in the half-dusk of the great hall. Mr. Usher, who’d been dashing around the room, turned back to him.

“She died here,” he said. “Can you feel her?”

The agent managed something like a smile.

“Long, long ago, you came to Matilda Tillerman’s,” Mr. Usher continued, “she, the last surviving heir of all that Tillerman wealth — you came to her house to drink and to dance, to laugh and to talk, to be alive, together, in this glorious house. They all came here, were well met here, from every corner of this city, every nook and cranny.

But something happened, nobody can say for sure what, and Matilda shut her doors. Shut out the entire world and made of her house a tomb.” He sighed and laid a hand gently on one of the columns supporting the upper gallery. “And a beautiful tomb it is.” Plaster flaked beneath his fingertips.

He tipped his head to the side. “Young man,” he said, “I’m going to buy this house. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer, so you can stop looking so frightened. But I would ask a favor. I make it a point of putting a serious question to a man whenever I meet him. Would you permit me?”

The agent, relieved to the point of tears that this showing was nearly over, would have permitted the buyer anything. “Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

“Marvelous.” Mr. Usher dropped his furry hat to the floor. It sent up a puff of ancient dust. “I have lived for a good long while. Enough to have borne the world,” he said. “And sometimes, the world is far too much for me. Too great. Too painful. Too lonely. I expect, if Ms. Tillerman will allow me to interpret her past actions, she may have felt the same. Is it selfish then, or self-preserving, to shut oneself away? At what point does one give up, so to speak, the ghost?”

The agent swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. No one had ever asked him a question like that before. It made him almost as uncomfortable as the house. It was too personal. It was too —

He had, once or twice, imagined it. How it would feel to say, to his bank account and his car and his condo and his girlfriend and his job, Go away. Leave me alone. So he could rest, and listen, and think, and maybe have a chance, one last chance, to remember what he’d been meaning to do before all this life he was living got started.

“I’m not sure,” he told Mr. Usher, “what to say.”

“An honest response,” Mr. Usher replied. “I appreciate that. I —”

A gust of frigid wind howled through the still-open door and lifted clouds of dust and spider webs from the walls and the floor. Delicate debris filled the air. The buyer coughed. Then the breeze caught the door and slammed it home with a crash.

The agent felt his entire body electrify. Mr. Usher jumped, and laughed.

Then: a second crash.

Smaller, closer, nearby in the house, off to the right. The agent’s body twitched violently and he doubled over, hands on kneecaps. He couldn’t stay here. This house was too much for him. He heard Mr. Usher walk across the great hall and pick something up off the floor and mutter to himself. Oh, you clever house, the agent thought he heard. What else are you hiding?

“Come on, dear boy,” said Mr. Usher, suddenly at his side, helping him upright and clapping him gently on the back. “It’s enough to frighten anyone, opening a tomb.” He smiled, the curls of his mustache lifting almost to his eyes. “Makes one feel a bit like Lord Carnarvon.”

The agent didn’t know who that was.

“Best hope there’s not a curse,” said Mr. Usher, walking back down the steps toward the door and the light, “for disturbing her.”

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Rafflecopter link:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e2389ba21000/?

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:

10/14/2019 Southern Girl Bookaholic Excerpt
10/15/2019 BookHounds YA Excerpt
10/16/2019 Lifestyle of Me Review
10/17/2019 Storiesandplottwists Review
10/18/2019 Moonlight Rendezvous  Review

 

Week Two:

10/21/2019 Smada’s Book Smack  Review
10/22/2019 Fictitiouswonderland  Review
10/23/2019 Jena Brown Writes Review
10/24/2019 Little Red Reads Review
10/25/2019 Geronimo Reads Review

 

Week Three:

10/28/2019 Fictitious Fox Review
10/29/2019 The Pages In-Between  Review
10/30/2019 Books and Sassy Lilacs Review
10/31/2019 The BookWorm Drinketh  Review

 

Week Four:

11/4/2019 bookishrealm Review
11/5/2019 Do You Dog-ear? Review
11/6/2019 Shelf-Rated Review
11/7/2019 The Try Everything  Review
11/8/2019 Savings in Seconds Review

 

A Touch of Darkness and A Touch of Ruin by Scarlett St. Clair | Cover Reveal

 

Today Scarlett St. Clair and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the GORGEOUS covers for her adult fantasy Hades & Persephone retellings, A TOUCH OF DARKNESS & A TOUCH OF RUIN! A TOUCH DARKNESS is out now, and A TOUCH RUIN will release in early 2020! Check out the awesome covers and enter the giveaway!

On to the reveals!

Title: A TOUCH OF DARKNESS (Hades & Persephone #1)
Author: Scarlett St. Clair
Pub. Date: May 23, 2019
Publisher: Scarlett St. Clair
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 438
Find it: GoodreadsAmazonKindleTBD

Persephone is the Goddess of Spring by title only. The truth is, since she was a little girl, flowers have shriveled at her touch. After moving to New Athens, she hopes to lead an unassuming life disguised as a mortal journalist.

Hades, God of the Dead, has built a gambling empire in the mortal world and his favorite bets are rumored to be impossible.

After a chance encounter with Hades, Persephone finds herself in a contract with the God of the Dead and the terms are impossible: Persephone must create life in the Underworld or lose her freedom forever.

The bet does more than expose Persephone’s failure as a Goddess, however. As she struggles to sow the seeds of her freedom, love for the God of the Dead grows—and it’s forbidden.


Title: A TOUCH OF RUIN (Hades & Persephone #2)
Author: Scarlett St. Clair
Pub. Date: Available in early 2020
Publisher: Scarlett St. Clair
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: ?
Find it: Goodreads

Persephone’s relationship with Hades has gone public and the resulting media storm disrupts her normal life and threatens to expose her as the Goddess of Spring.

Hades, God of the Dead, is burdened by a hellish past that everyone’s eager to expose in an effort to warn Persephone away. Things only get worse when a horrible tragedy leaves Persephone’s heart in ruin and Hades refusing to help.

Desperate, she takes matters into her own hands, striking bargains with severe consequences. Faced with a side of Hades she never knew and crushing loss, Persephone wonders if she can truly become Hades’ queen.

Excerpt from A TOUCH OF DARKNESS:

Hades dealt each of them five cards. Persephone looked at her hand and tried to remember what Hades had said about the different ranks. She laid her cards down, face up and the man did the same.

“You have a pair of queens,” he said. “And I have a full house.”

“So…you won,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, and then claimed his prize immediately. “Who are you rebelling against?”

She smiled wryly. “My mother.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“You’ll have to win another hand if I’m going to answer.”

So, he dealt another and won again. This time, he didn’t ask the question, just looked at her expectantly.
She sighed. “Because…she made me mad.”

He stared at her, waiting, and she smiled. “You never said the answer had to be detailed.”

His grin matched hers. “Noted for the future, I assure you.”

“The future?”

“Well, I hope this isn’t the last time we’ll play poker.”

Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She should tell him this was the first and final time she would come to Nevernight.

He dealt again and won. Persephone was getting tired of losing and answering this man’s questions. Why was he so interested in her anyway? Where was that woman he’d been with earlier?

“Why are you angry with your mother?”

She considered this question for a moment, and then said, “Because…she wants me to be something I cannot.” Persephone dropped her gaze to the cards, and then said, “I don’t understand why people do this.”

He tilted his head, as if questioning. “You are not enjoying our game?”

“I am,” she said. “But…I don’t understand why people play Hades. Why do they want to sell their soul to him?”

“They don’t agree to a game because they want to sell their soul,” he said. “They do it because they think they can win.”

“Do they? Win?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does that anger him, you think?” The question was meant to remain a thought in her head, and yet the words slipped out between her lips.

He smirked, and she could feel it deep in her gut.

“Darling, I win either way.”

Her eyes went wide, and her heart stuttered. She stood quickly and his name slipped out of her mouth like a curse.

“Hades.”

About Scarlett:

Scarlett St. Clair lives in Oklahoma with her husband. She has a Master’s degree in Library Science and Information Studies and spends a lot of time researching reincarnation, unsolved murders and Greek mythology–all of which made it into her debut novel, When Stars Come Out.
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