Reviews by Shan: September 2011

Just finished reading Lord of Rage by Jill Monroe. It is fantastic.

The book is 2nd in a series that is wrote by multiple authors called the Royal House of Shadows. The are books that are rewritten fairytales with a twist. You get all sorts of supernatural entities. In this one a witch and a Berserker among other things. All the books in the series are about siblings born to a Vampire Father and Witch Mother. The first book was written by Gena Showalter (see previous review) titled Lord of Vampires. It is about older bother Nicolai.

This book is about only sister Breena. I loved this story just as I did the last. It is the first book that I have read by Jill Monroe and I am glad it was first. I will definitely be reading more of this authors work. It definitely leaves you wanting more. Which you will get in Book 3 by Jessica Anderson titled, Lord of the Wolfyn.

If I had to give this book a star rating with 1 being the worst and 5 beginning the best, it would definitely receive 5 stars.

I have fell in love with this author after reading only 1 of her books. I found her thru one of my other favs Julianne MacLean, whose husband was being interviewed on Ms. DiPasqua's blog.

Anyway, this story is the best retelling of Cinderella that I have ever had the pleasure of reading and this is just for adults. Steamy is not even strong enough of a word to describe the sex scenes between our hero and heroine.

While reading I began to look for any other books that she may have written and I got them both delivered to my library today. Yay!!!!

Excerpt (from the authors website http://www.liladipasqua.com/index.htm)

May 1650—Paris

“I have a plan!” Isabelle Laurent announced the moment she yanked Sabine inside the costume room at their father’s grand theater and slammed the door shut.

Elaborate costumes and colorful plumes, wigs, and props for the latest comedy, The Foolish Wives, filled the space. The very play that could be heard faintly, the actors’ voices seeping into the silence.

Sabine frowned. “What plan? What are we doing here?” Her ire was stirred. Mischief shone in her twin’s eyes. Tonight, Sabine wanted no part of her sister’s scheme. Whatever it was. The play was almost over, and she wanted to spend the remaining time watching her dark-haired prince from behind the stage. The only place Father allowed them to be when at his comedies.

Unseen and out of the way.

Her Dark Prince was in attendance. And it was all because of her lucky new shoes. Covered entirely in glass beading, Isabelle referred to them as “the glass slippers.” The last three times Sabine wore them, her Dark Prince had attended the play, her father’s theater drawing royalty and aristocracy alike.

Though he wasn’t really a prince, he was the firstborn son of the powerful and prominent Marquis de Blainville.

Jules de Moutier. He was nineteen.

And without a doubt, the finest male she’d ever seen in all her fifteen years. And oh how exceptional he looked . . . Tall. Beautiful. With dark hair. Mesmerizing dark eyes. And when he smiled or laughed—a rich masculine sound that was music to her ears—he had the most attractive dimples near his mouth that made her heart melt.

Always the center of attention, he had such commanding presence, drawing all eyes in the room to him. But he never noticed her. Never glanced her way. Not with so many silly females vying for his attention, all but giddy when they captured it.

Oh, but he’d definitely notice her next year, when she’d be introduced to society. And Sabine already knew what she’d wear—a golden-colored gown.

And of course, her lucky glass slippers.

She was counting the days. Had dreamed of their meeting at the ball. Their dance. The moment he’d declare his affections. And their first kiss. She was going to give him his best kiss ever! Better than any of the females she’d seen him kiss on those heart-sinking occasions, when he thought he wasn’t being observed.

She could barely stand the wait.

“I’m leaving.” Sabine turned, anxious to get back to Jules.

“Fine. Go. I’ll get close to the handsome Moutier brothers all on my own.”

That stopped Sabine dead in her tracks. Isabelle had a tendre for Jules’s younger brother, Luc. And a rash, impetuous nature. She adored her sister, loved her with all her heart. They couldn’t be any closer even though they were as different physically as they were in spirit.

“How are you going to do that?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, despite being much more levelheaded and less adventuresome.

Isabelle smiled. “I’m going to slip out that door.” She pointed to the one at the opposite end of the room. “And run up the alley to the front of the theater. The audience is about to leave and I’m going to brush past Luc.”

Sabine’s mouth fell agape. “You’re not!”

Isabelle was now grinning. “I am.”

“Father will be furious.”

“Only if he finds out. You can stay, or you can come with me.” Isabelle blew her a kiss and bolted out the door.

Sabine remained indecisive for all of two heartbeats before she tore out of the room and was on her sister’s heels, the thought of getting close to Jules quickening her steps. As she raced up the darkened alley, Isabelle’s laugh drifted back to her on the warm summer breeze, inspiring her own. Sabine emerged onto the main street near the front entrance of the theater. Her foot slid out from under her, her bottom colliding hard with the cobblestone road; a sharp pain shot up her spine and made her wince.

The roar of laughter from the crowd exiting her father’s theater assailed her ears. Her left palm stung. Her derrière ached. And she blinked back the tears, mortified by the spectacle she’d just made of herself. Chin-down, she was too afraid to look up. Afraid that in the crowd she’d see her Dark Prince, or rather, see him laughing at her.

Isabelle was at her side in an instant, falling to her knees and throwing a consoling arm around her shoulder. “Sabine . . .”

A pair of black polished boots appeared next to her just then. She looked up. Her heart flip-flopped.

It was he. The handsomest man in the realm. Her dark-haired prince. He lowered himself down on his haunches.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice caressing over her. She was lost in the vision he made, his most kissable mouth voicing words of concern for her.

She blinked.

He frowned slightly. “Is she mute?” he asked Isabelle.

“No, my lord. She can speak.” Her sister pinched her back.

Sabine flinched. “I—I am fine. Thank you.”

Then it happened. He smiled. At her! And what a glorious smile it was.

“You lost your slipper,” he said. Picking up her fallen shoe, he gently clasped her ankle and slipped it back on her foot. She forgot to breathe.

He rose, and to her amazement, he held out his hand. Isabelle pinched her harder. Sabine jerked and quickly placed her hand in his. It was warm, strong, and felt so right. She knew he’d held the hand of many beauties from the finest families in the noble class, but at that moment his hand was all hers. His attention was hers. His melting smile was only for her.

She rose with his help, ignoring the pain in her backside.

“Do be careful.” Then he leaned in. The world shifted beneath her feet. Her breath lodged in her throat. “You have beautiful hair,” he whispered in her ear, and with a wink he walked away, enveloped back into the throng that had been waiting for him.

“Oh, Sabine . . .” Isabelle stepped up behind her and, hugged her around the waist. Resting her chin on Sabine’s shoulder, she said, “Can you believe what just happened?”

Her hand and ankle still tingled where he’d touched her. The glass slippers had more than worked their magic this night. And she knew right there and then, down to her very marrow, that the next time they’d meet, there would be more magic to come . . .