Book Review: Shades of Death by J.M.Muller

Shades of Death (Colors of Immortality, #2)

Hunted as a human for his vibrant aura, Daniel held all the lethal promise Narivous looks for in a Velore. His color was both bold and bright, his potential limitless. He had the makings of one of the strongest undead Narivous has ever seen.
Until he’s turned in a forbidden way.
Resurrected from a poison death, he now has a toxic touch and a wail violent enough to eradicate all creatures within screaming distance. He is as his aura promised—dangerously powerful. Almost too much so.
Thorn, Narivous’ tyrannical queen, has outlawed the making of his clan, for good reason—their powers are beyond her control. The toxin roiling beneath his flesh makes him a threat but, worse yet, Thorn sees Daniel as a symbol of rebellion. He represents more than disobedience, he represents a rift in her realm.
And that places Daniel in a precarious position. Thorn will stop at nothing to restore her omnipresent image, and there are only two ways to do that: break Daniel, or destroy him. Daniel will soon be tested—become Thorn’s monster, or suffer death for a second, and final, time.


I can not express how happy I am with the release of the second installment of Colors of Immorality by J.M Muller "Shades of Death"  is just as amazing as the first one. I love Daniels character and inner strength, his transformation into the afterlife is a hard one. I really felt for Daniel and wished that he could just be happy and have Fantasia back. The growth of Polar's and  Daniels relationship made me very happy. They have a great connection and are family. A close and necessary bond if they want to survive Thorn. Thorn is the definition of evil! I had my finger crossed that Thorn could redeem herself. but I was wrong. Thorn is a character that shouldn't be messed with. I think Thorn has met her match in Daniel and if she doesn't want a war she would find a way to work with him rather than against him.
The pace of the story is great and refreshing. There is never a boring part of the story and it keeps you on your feet. I can't wait for the next book! I know it's going to be great.

Rate: 5/5
J.M.  Muller
J.M. Muller is a fan of both animals and villains and believes every story needs a little darkness. She has a plethora of skills (okay, that's a lie), but does enjoy writing and creating to the very best of her abilities.

What a Highlander's Got To Do By: Sabrina York

What a Highlander's Got to Do
Coming March 6th from Sabrina York and St. Martin's Press
Isobel Dounreay Lochlannach is a fierce and independent Scots lass. She has no intention to marry—to submit to a man—especially not an Englishman.
But when she meets a devilish stable lad on the way to London, she can’t help but sneak a kiss with the handsome stranger, sure to never see him again.
Nick Wyeth is not a stable lad. He’s Viscount Stirling, and heir to one of the most powerful dukes in the realm. If their indiscretion is discovered, Isobel will be forced to marry him, to succumb to a fate she has always spurned. Nick wants nothing but to call this wild Scottish lass his own, and is determined to show her how an English Viscount can make her swoon, and be his forever in What a Highlander’s Got To Do by New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York.

“Milady . . . are you s-sure?” the groom sputtered, even as Isobel launched herself into the saddle. He was a sweet boy, only slightly spotted, and she’d found him delightfully manageable.
She smiled down at him in a manner that caused his Adam’s apple to bobble precariously. “I’m verra sure,” she said. “I can handle him. I promise.”
“But the mare is much gentler,” he said with a hint of panic in his voice.
“I’m certain she is,” Isobel responded with a wink. And then she set her heels to the stallion’s sides and they launched from the stable yard.
She leaned over his neck, encouraging him on. “Och, you want this, don’t you, boy?” she whispered into his ear, and he nickered his delight. “Faster then. Faster. Let’s fly!”
And oh. They did. And it was glorious.
The ride, of course, but also leaving those horrible women behind.
Newcastle lacked the exhilarating rocky terrain of the Highlands, but in turn, it had long languid country roads that curved gently through apple orchards, along golden fields, and through fallow land spotted with bright-yellow flowers. There was a babbling brook to her right and the broad blue line of the horizon before her. She had, in that moment, the flight of fancy that she could ride forever.
The air was cool and clear, with a hint of lingering loam. And the sun, when she hit it in gentle splashes wandering through the leaves, was a kiss of warmth. They made their own breeze, she and Lord Willouby’s stallion. It caressed her face and tangled in her hair and it was magnificent.
Much better than tea with the local ladies.
It was, in fact, perfection.
Until a thundering sound disrupted her peace.
Hoofbeats from behind, intruding on the splendid rhythm she and the stallion had created.
She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Another stallion pounded after them, with a dark-haired stranger urging him on. She’d heard about highwaymen in these parts, veterans from the war and such, who had turned to crime. And while she’d thought the prospect of such a thing wildly romantic when reading it in a novel, she did not, in truth, care to be robbed or manhandled by such a man.
She tapped her mount’s side with her heels and urged him to go faster, even as a thrill of excitement sizzled through her. She was certain she could outride her pursuer, but how delicious would it be to confront an actual highwayman and have a story to tell Catriona?
Not that the two of them tried to outdo each other in their tales, but they did.
Isobel caught her breath and focused on the road ahead. It curved out of sight behind a large hill. Not knowing the terrain, she knew she had to slow, lest she injure her horse, and that was her downfall.
He caught her then, as she rounded the curve and, to her shock and dismay, wrapped a strong arm around her waist and lifted her bodily from her saddle and onto his lap.
She had one stunning impression of hard hot man.
He was slick with sweat from the mad ride, as was she, but on his skin, it rose in a thick musk that teased her nostrils and made her belly lurch.
Surely it was not an attractive scent.
She refused to believe this to be so.
At the same time, she screeched her outrage and wiggled to be free, which had a disturbing result.
He tightened his hold on her.
Dear God, he was strong, this beastly highwayman.
“Hold still,” he snapped. “You’ll fall.”
Of course she wanted to fall. She wanted to hit the ground before he did so she had time to retrieve her blade from the scabbard on her thigh before he caught her again.
What a pity he didn’t let her fall. He held her even tighter—she could barely breathe—and pulled on the reins to slow his mount.
Before she had time to react, he’d slipped off and was helping her down.
Helping her down.
No one had ever helped her down. She’d never allowed it.
The man was, in a word, infuriating.
Once her feet hit the ground she elbowed him in the stomach and whirled away. She glared at him, though he was unaware of this, doubled over and wheezing as he was. This gave her time to free her blade and point it in his general direction, so when he recovered himself, when he stood and stared at her, it was, indeed, a fearsome sight he saw.
She had no earthly idea why he laughed.
No earthly idea why her first glimpse of him—this bandit who had just impugned her person—made her heart stop.
Oh, he was handsome, for sure, with dark eyes and rampant black curls. There was a birthmark just above his lip that gave him a rakish air, and the hint of a scar bisected his left eyebrow. But his smile was white and broad and caused an irksome raft of dimples to erupt on his cheek.
He wore the stained, frayed clothes of a workingman, with boots caked in mud.
And good lord, he was tall. Tall and muscled and exquisitely formed.
She wasn’t sure which of his perfections annoyed her more.
And then he spoke, and she knew for certain. It was his voice, a mellifluous tenor, crisp with British superiority and the hint of a laugh.
She abhorred being laughed at.
“Well,” he said, nodding at her knife—which, in retrospect, seemed far too small. “Aren’t you the fierce one?”
It took a moment to stifle her growl. No doubt it would give him even more to mock. “What do you expect? You chased me. Grabbed me from behind. Manhandled me.”
His eyes widened and he stared at her for a moment, then his grin widened. “You’re a Scot.” Not a question.
“You’re bluidy right I am, so don’t try anything. You’ll not be the first man I’ve skewered.”
A laugh. “I don’t doubt it for a moment.” He continued studying her, though, in a way that made her skin prickle.
“What?” she said, breaking the silence against her will.
He shrugged, some lazy careless gesture that made her want to smack his supercilious face. “I just thought all Scottish lasses had red hair, is all.”
“Did you now?” Did he want to see red? Well, it danced before her eyes.
He must have realized his comment incensed her, because he laughed again. “Doona skewer me, lass,” he said in a perfect brogue. For some reason, that made her even angrier.
“Why no’? Are you no’ a highwayman, come to rob me?”
“A highwayman?” His beautiful perfect brows lifted in mock surprise. He had the audacity to bow before her. “My lady, I’ve just saved your life.”
She gaped at him. She was aware she was gaping, like a landed cod, but could not manage to form words.
He chuckled and tucked two long fingers under her chin and gently closed it. Then he hooked her arm in his and led her farther along the track, where Lord Willouby’s stallion stood alongside the road ripping out tufts of grass. “There,” he said, waving at a stone bridge just beyond the hill, arching over the river.
Isobel yanked her arm away. “There, what?”
“Go look.”
He followed her as she made her way to the bridge and then stood next to her, rocking back on his heels, as she studied the structure. Or what remained of it.
The stone pilings were all in place, as were the abutments on either end, but as for the rest of it . . .
“The flood last month took out all the timbers,” he said in a far-too-smug tone.
She crossed her arms and studied the distance from one bank to the other. “No doubt we could have made the jump.”
He turned to stare at her for a long moment, and then he laughed again.
She was becoming quite tired of his laugh, and at the same time craving it. That was probably why—though she would deny it until the day she died—her lips quirked. Just a tad, but it was enough encouragement for him, apparently.
“I believe you owe me,” he said with a wicked smile.
“I owe you?” She turned and tipped up her chin and stared into his eyes—really stared into them—for the first time. They were a lovely warm brown with flecks of gold, and they were amused. There was something else in there, a certain heat, that she preferred to ignore.
“I did save your life.”
“I believe I made it clear, I could have made the jump.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, but your stallion?” He glanced at the steed, who was trying to lip an apple from the tree. “That is questionable.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed. “So what reward would you ask?”
“First, that you put away your blade.”
“First? How many rewards are you asking for?” Was she enjoying this . . . sparring? Why yes. She was.
He was terribly handsome, and not a highwayman after all. Probably, judging from his clothes, a stable lad. Or a farmer’s son.
He shrugged. “How much do you value your life?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Just as it is. I would like to ask for a kiss . . .” Her heart skipped. “But to be frank, I prefer not to kiss lasses with knives in their fists. You know, just in case.”
She straightened up and peered down her nose at him—no easy feat, as he was much taller than she. “I doona kiss just anyone.”
He splayed his hand over his heart. “I am gratified to hear it.”
“Certainly not . . .” She waved at his person. “Stable hands.”
He grinned. “Is that what I am then?”
She pointed to his boots. “Do tell me that is mud.”
“What else could it be?” His playful tone made clear it might well be something else one might find in a stable.
“And look at your hands.”
He did. She did, too. They were large, well made, with long fingers. There was mud there, too, beneath his fingernails. One would hope.
“I can wash them in the river, if you like.” Again, that charming smile.
She smiled back, but with a hint of restraint. It was an odd feeling cloaking her shoulders. Restraint was hardly her forte. “Please do.”
He nodded and she tried to ignore the curl that flopped onto his forehead as he turned and trotted down the bank.
With a sigh of regret, she took the reins of Lord Willouby’s stallion and mounted. Best be gone before he returned or she might be tempted to give him what he wanted.
She wanted it, too, which was stupid.
She was here for a few weeks while she waited for the various arms of her family to collect here, and then they would make the long trip down to London for a miserable Season. There was no time for a romance, and certainly not one with a farm boy. Not even one as handsome as he.
Though she had to admit, she was tempted.
She kicked the stallion into motion and began riding back the way she’d come.
What a pity.
She would have liked a kiss. Just one. She would have liked to know if he tasted as delicious as she imagined. She would have liked to have a story to tell Catriona, one that didn’t end with her plunging to her death into the River of the Broken Bridge.
She should have known he would follow.
She heard the hoofbeats behind her and urged her stallion on, bending low on his neck and whispering encouragement.
Her heart pounded.
She knew he would catch her.
He had before.
But still, she persevered.
She had no idea why she smiled. No idea why her soul sang.
No idea why, when he caught her, swooping her up into his arms and onto his lap, she laughed.
No idea why she smiled as he cupped her face with his still-damp hands and stared at her lips like a starving man.
No idea why, when his lips touched hers, fragrant and soft and oh-so-sweet, she sank into the kiss with all she had.
Or perhaps she did have an idea after all.

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#BlogTour | #Review RIGHT KISS WRONG GUY by Natalie Decker #Giveaway

Right Kiss Wrong Guy by Natalie Decker!
Title: Right Kiss Wrong Guy
Author:  Natalie Decker
Series: Offsides #2
Publication Date: January 23, 2018
Publisher: Swoon Romance

You'd think a girl with the most romantic name in the world would have her pick of boyfriends. 

But Valentine's Day sucks when you're single. Just ask Juliet Valentine, whose last name happens to also be the name of the most dreaded made-up holiday ever. 

A romantic at heart, this year is especially hard on Juliet. Her sister, Layla, is in a new relationship, her mom's match-making business is doing great, and her school's new fundraiser is "Love-Grams."

Juliet's miserable, a little jealous, and lonely. 

Quarterback Jared Black is the most popular guy in school. A star athlete, Jared tops the most-eligible bachelor list year after year. But to Juliet Valentine, he's all but invisible. She isn't impressed. 

Jared's never had to work hard to get the attention of a girl before. Valentine's Day is fast approaching, and he's determined to ask Juliet out. After all, if Tyler can win over Layla, Jared ought to have a shot with Layla's sister.

Unlike Tyler and Layla, charm, flattery and good looks won't work on Juliet. So with the V-Day dance coming up, Jared uses the school’s Love-Grams to let Juliet know how he feels. Should be simple enough, right?

Wrong. Each attempt ends up either in the trash or thrown in someone's face. Juliet won't play his game.

Now, without a date to the dance Jared realizes it’s going to take a Hail Mary to win the girl of his dreams.

Right Kiss Wrong Guy is the second book in the Offsides series by Natalie Decker. And both books can be read as standalone. So it does not matter which one you read first.

Juliet is introduced in the first book, so we kind of know why her attitude about relationships, boys and Valentine's Day. However, Natalie gives a big recap about it in this one. Thus the book being standalone.
So... Juliet dislikes Valentine's Day and football players are not her favorite people right now. Let's blame her ex-boyfriend for the last one. She is very funny, smart and straightforward when she wants to be. But she is also a little bad/frustrating when it comes to turn someone down --without being really sure who that person is. But I liked her anyways.
Jared is a cutie pie. He was very persistent, but he also knew when was the right time to say stop, I am a human being and I need some respect and consideration about my feelings, too. He was amazing, I really liked reading about how he felt about certain things along the book. And I am sure you will appreciate it too.
It may seem that both characters are not alike or something. However, as the time goes, it is easier to understand why they work together really good.

Right Kiss Wrong Guy is fascinating. And I enjoyed reading it. So I recommend it to everyone but specially to those who are looking for a lovely YA romance!

Book: +4 valentine stars!
Buy: Amazon

Other books in the series

Natalie Decker is the Author of Rival Love. She loves oceans, sunsets, sand between her toes, and carefree days. Her imagination is always going, which some find odd. But she believes in seeing the world in a different light at all times. Her first passion for writing started at age twelve when she had to write a poem for English class. However, seventh grade wasn’t her favorite time and books were her source of comfort. She took all college prep classes in High school, and attended the University of Akron. Although she studied Mathematics she never lost her passion for writing or her comfort in books. She’s a mean cook in the kitchen, loves her family and friends and her awesome dog infinity times infinity. If she’s not writing, reading, traveling, hanging out with her family and friends, then she’s off having an adventure. Because Natalie believes in a saying: Your life is your own journey, so make it amazing!


#BlogTour | #Review EFFORTLESS by Bethany-Kris #Giveaway #Excerpt

Effortless by Bethany-Kris

Title: Effortless
Author: Bethany-Kris
Series: A Legacy Novel
Publication Date: January 15, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, Organized Crime

Camilla Donati doesn’t do relationships—it’s just not her thing. She wants a fun time, not a long time. She might be exactly what Tommaso Rossi needs to make his vacation from the responsibilities as a Capo, a break worth taking.

He didn’t expect to find a woman like her with a mind full of filth.

She didn’t expect a man who would shatter all of her rules with only a grin.

Chicago keeps calling Tommaso home, and further out of reach from the one thing he wants more than ever. Camilla’s restless heart keeps getting in the way even when it’s stuck between what is, and what could be.

This should have been easy.

It didn’t have to be messy.

Falling in love is effortless.

It’s people who make it hard.

Effortless: A Legacy Novel is a standalone contemporary erotic romance.


Bethany-Kris' books always have a very passionate couple. Who go through hell together, and then stay together. I think most of her books have a lot of blood, resentment, hate, fights and love. But  they have like the perfect dose of each one. So you do not really feel overwhelmed with all of it.

And, if you have ever read her books, you know that she is always using characters from other families/series in (at least) one book per series. So, of course, this time around it is not different. Even more if we consider that Effortless is a sequel for the Donati Bloodlines (Camilla) and The Chicago War (Tommaso).

Anyway, all books are different. Effortless is not based around a big war or dispute. It is more about facing your own demons and insecurities. It does have Bethany-Kris distinctive mark. But not too deep as the others.

Camilla/Cam is the Donati principessa. She has always had a lot of freedom when it comes to take decisions that may make a big difference in her life. Thus her free-spirit persona. Plus, she does not really like to be attached to someone or to depend on someone else. She is more of a once-is-enough kind of girl.

Tommaso/Tom's life has been marked for trying to follow into his dad's footsteps to become worthy in order to become a good boss of the Rossi famiglia when the time comes. But lately, it seems he is not one-hundred-percent focused in his job as a Capo and the Rossi principe. Perhaps, it is because he is now understanding that life is not only duty and legacy.

Both characters have very similar personalities. And from the very first moment, they are drawn to each other. They do not deny their attraction and they certainly do something to satisfy their deepest desires. However, neither he nor she really expected to be left wanting more. And that attraction seems to be growing with every passing moment. But Cam is determined to do what she thinks she wants instead of what she really wants. On the hand, Tom is ready to change her mind about relationships and love. But it is harder when just one party is willing to follow their heart.

I loved Effortless. It is definitely lighter than any of her other works. But it is so exciting and compelling that you will read it in one sitting. Highly recommended!! And you do not need to read the Donati Bloodlines or The Chicago War. But I recommend those books too.

Book: +5 love-is-effortless stars!


“AT LEAST wait until I’m not looking to eye-fuck my sister,” Cross said under his breath. “That’s the respectful thing to do, Tommaso.” 

Tom heard Cross’s warning loud and clear, but it still took him a couple of extra seconds to tear his gaze away from the platinum and purple-headed blonde across the room. He knew Cross had a younger sister—nineteen or twenty, somewhere around there—Camilla. Although, he had never met the girl. 

No, not a girl.

Definitely a young woman. 

Very much woman. 

All woman.

Tom’s gaze darted back to the woman in question as Cross stopped to chat with somebody. He figured his friend’s attention was distracted enough that he wouldn’t notice or mind Tom sneaking one more peek at Camilla Donati. 

Petite in stature, she would barely reach his chin, and that was with her heels on. And speaking of the heels … Those damn things had spikes all the way around the straps, and they looked made for some kind of fun and sin. 

There were at least another thirty women in the room. All dressed in some variance of skirts, dresses, or jeans that hugged their asses tight enough to make Tom wonder how the fuck they could even breathe. 

Yet, something about Camilla kept his gaze drifting in her direction. 

Edgy makeup, with crystals placed along the cut line of her eyebrows. Red lipstick so dark it was bordering on a black crimson. Round, large brown eyes that someone else might have mistaken as innocence staring back from them. 

He didn’t see innocence at all. 

Not the way she was looking at him.

Pretty wasn’t the right word for her delicate features and naturally pouty lips. Pretty made him think of fragile lace and inexperience. 

Alluring was more like it, with just a touch of sex to color her up. 

Like a rose. 

Attractive, silky smooth, interesting and beautiful. Just enough sexy to make it impossible to resist touching it. Hidden dangers in the form of thorns ready to injure and scar. 

“She single?” Tom asked when Cross finished with his conversation with the stranger. He couldn’t even help it. The words came out before he could stop them. “Your sister, I mean. Is she?” 

“Kind of makes you look like a lovesick fucker when you keep staring, Tom.” 

“Your point?” 

Cross sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “Cam doesn’t know what a relationship is, so yeah, she’s … available.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“Not my business, that’s what.”

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

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