Isn’t It Just Like a Man to Exit a Relationship When He Finds Out a Woman Has a Few Little Secrets?
March 15, 2018
NN Light’s review from NNLightsbookheaven.com
Title: Cry Me a River: A paranormal romance novel (Destiny Paramortals Book 2)
Author: Livia Quinn
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Welcome to Middle Earth, er, Destiny…
Cry Me a River is a paranormal romance—a world of dragons, storm witches (tempestaeries), shifters, vampires and fae, protecting mankind while searching for their fated mates in the Paramortals urban fantasy world. It’s a fun, emotional and quirky ride with twists and turns that will keep you guessing and relationships that make you want to come back for more. “Come to Destiny, you won’t want to leave.”
Tempe’s snarky humor is a result of the painful childhood relationship with her parents. Their family secret is about to change everything! . . .
Isn’t it just like a man to exit a relationship when he finds out a woman has a few little secrets?
The last time I saw Sheriff Lang, he got his first glimpse of my Paramortal “talents”—a few measly bolts of lightning aimed … in his general direction. He’s finally on board with our search for my brother but time is running out. In the course of the investigation we’ve gone from attraction to suspicion, support to friendship, romance to oh-my-god-get-away-from-me revulsion.
Jack’s an ex-Navy pilot. He says he wants to know “everything”. But after we answer his questions, he’ll probably grab his daughter and take the first jet out of Middle Earth. Oh, . He may stick around to finish his investigation, but I doubt he’ll still want to take me to the Mardi Gras ball, once he knows “everything”. ‘Cause there’s a lot of everything…
Book two picks up from the moment book one ends and I liked that. It’s a continuation of the same story. River is still missing and time is running out. Sheriff Jack just found out who Tempest (and many of her friends/family) is. Whoa, paramortals! Though to be fair, Jack doesn’t have much time to adjust to this news.
“You in or out?” asks Dylan (who changed into a big bear-like creature before Jack’s eyes).
Jack’s in and the more he finds out, the more he falls in love with Tempest. He wants to protect her and help her find River before it’s too late.
This is one roller coaster ride of a book! The author does a fantastic job weaving romance and action; I couldn’t read fast enough. I loved the characters and the plot was riveting. One bombshell after another hits Tempest and Jack but instead of driving them apart, it draws them closer together.
What will happen? There’s a new character that appears at the very end and I can’t tell you more other to say my mouth dropped at her showing up.
I read this book in one sitting and started reading book three right away. You must read the books in order.
Gripping action, complex characters and a plot that wouldn’t let me go, Cry Me a River is a must-read! Onto book three…
Favorite Character or Quote: Jack. I loved how he didn’t abandon Tempest in her moment of crisis. I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. What man would stick around after a woman threw bolts of lightning very near his crotch. giggles Jack is an honorable man and even though he’s in over his head, he’s falling in love with Tempest. She’s his storm witch and when the two of them get together, it blasts them both into outer space.
My Rating: 5 stars
I asked Montana if she’d seen Aurora.
“She’s over there. Sitting next to Jane.”
Across the room, dressed in the gaudiest multicolored outfit I’d ever seen, was Jane. It was styled strictly to grab attention.
“That getup came straight out of the circus.”
Aurora sat at the other end, dressed in her usual understated elegance. For the ball it was a shimmering pearlescent shift, two matching crystals dangling from her ears to touch her shoulder blades, her long black and silver hair loose and flowing, and only the amulet as decoration. The contrast between the two “fortune tellers” couldn’t have been more stark.
Aurora’s mouth turned up as if to say, I can’t believe I’m doing this. We knew that if not for a great cause, one near and dear to Montana’s heart, she wouldn’t have been caught dead this close to Jane Fortune. To her left in front of a backdrop of glittering stars, crescent moons and happy suns was Jane, two hundred and thirty pounds squished into a five-foot frame.
Jane’s dark hair was covered in a purple velvet and gold paisley turban with a green stone pasted in the center of her forehead. Eyeliner from her bottom lids nearly to her eyebrows made her eyes look like empty black holes. Her caftan was cheap purple taffeta and Jane had pulled the crisscrossed ties until the fleshy mounds of her chest threatened to tear the fabric. She was armed with all of her standard psychic paraphernalia—oversized tarot cards, a tray of candles, a green “gazing ball” identical to one I’d seen in the garden section at Wal-Mart.
Her throat, ears and fingers were adorned with so much jewelry it was a wonder she could sit upright. Besides her name, two other obvious “tells” spoke of her charlatan status, the most visible, the line of mismatched fan bulbs encircling the poster of sun, moon and stars on the panel behind her. And most telling, the tiny red flame flickering from within the gazing ball, in the silhouette of a Christmas candle, complete with an electric cord that ran from the ball to the wall.
Yeah. Very mystical.
I looked down at the nameplate in front of Jane. “Look.” I pointed to the table label. Montana snickered.
Jane’s hand-printed card read: Have your Fortune told by a real Psycho.
The chatter around us quieted suddenly. Montana and Jack looked over my shoulder. Montana hissed behind me, a sound I’d never heard from her. “Mother of all the gods! Who is that?”
We turned as the elder at the door called out, “Conor de Sept-Flambe, Knight of his Majesty’s realm.”
Jack stiffened and muttered, “Which Majesty?”
“What realm?” I wondered aloud.
“Where’d he get those damn swords?” breathed Montana behind me. Leave it to a warrior goddess to appreciate and hone in on the most obvious feature of the newcomer’s costume.
The—it seemed lacking somehow to call him a man though he appeared to be, but I could see why both of them had reacted to the stranger.
He wore a beautiful black and red mask, which was slightly reptilian in design, strapped around his shoulder length black hair. He was shirtless and radiated danger with intricate red and black tattoos that resembled bat wings across his shoulders and triceps. He didn’t need a costume t-shirt with abs painted on it. The ridges of his torso indicated strength and discipline. Matching leather strips banded his bulging biceps and matched the jagged hemmed samurai pants floating about his muscular calves.
“Looks like someone left their video game on too long in a parallel universe,” said Jack.
The Knight Flambe did indeed look like he’d walked straight from the Martial Arts/Samurai Assassin video game into the Grand Ball. His boots were exquisitely tooled silver and bronze, with a belt of the same metals, which glimmered flat against his lower abdomen. When he turned to hand his invitation to the elder there was a collective murmur and Jack made a low guttural sound.
Two long deadly looking gold and silver swords crisscrossed his back and seemed to shoot fire with each movement down their jagged twisting length. As he listened to the announcement, the knight’s hands, girded at the wrist in pewter, bronze and gold to the elbows, fisted and relaxed, making the tendons flex from elbow to chest. Whew!
Montana stood like a statue of a Valkyrie, her hands clenching and unclenching, piercing cobalt eyes locked on the figure dressed in precious metals, leather and a lot of bronzed skin. Menori reacted restlessly to the dark knight.
So did Jack. It was as if they were meeting as equals on some arena of war—not as I’d described him and Dylan—like dogs fighting over their Poodle. This was something elemental, as if they knew each other at their core. It lasted mere seconds but it was as if time during those few seconds amplified, expanded to push away all other sounds and only those of us who saw, felt, and understood, well, I didn’t understand except to know that something of impetus had passed between them.
Party sounds filtered in again from the other room and the Knight Flambe’ took three deliberate steps off the platform, glancing toward Montana and away. His sharp predatory gaze met each attendee briefly, making each person acknowledge his presence, like he was studying them one by one and simultaneously erasing himself from their minds. I shook my head. We’d had our share of supernaturals, but this powerful looking ‘soldier’, a sexy sword-wielding samurai warrior… it was a first.
The newcomer bowed and walked deliberately through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea for the Israelites, to give him and his swords an unencumbered path to the bar. Montana devoured him with her eyes. She had not moved since he walked in the door. Interesting.
“Reckon that’s a costume? Or is he some kind of knight in shining armor?” I asked.
Jack said, “He doesn’t seem the type.”