March 22, 2018
Title: Eve of Chaos: A novel paranormal romance (Destiny Paramortals Book 3)
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Eve of Chaos is a paranormal romance—a world of dragons, storm witches (tempestaeries), vampires, shifters, and fae, protecting mankind while searching for their fated mates in the Paramortal 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.”
“Oh my God, I loved this book…run don’t walk to the buy button!”
This dragon loves rock music!
“You vill meet a dahk dangerrous sttrrangah…”
Aurora predicted at the Mardi Gras ball, and as if someone left their Swords of War video game on “share” in a parallel universe, he walked in. Conor de Sept Flambe´, the Dark Knight they’d dubbed him, with his dark gleaming muscles, the distinctive leathery tattoos across his shoulders, armored boots and magnificent flashing swords. “Where did he get those swords?” Montana asked, drooling. She’d been unable to force her eyes away from him all evening. Then he’d walked across the ballroom floor, parting the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea, and asked her to dance. Turns out, he’s quite the music lover. He said he wanted to show her some of his moves. Right! Her Dinnshencha warrior wasn’t born yesterday… There’s more to this Knight than meets the eye, and he’s quite an eyeful. Recognizing her diminishing strength, he offers to prepare her for the Chaos, twenty-four hours when many Paramortals will lose their power.
Sheriff Jack Lang knows something’s afoot with Conor’s appearance in Destiny. Crazies are coming out of the woodwork, Paramortals are losing their abilities, and dispositions going AWOL, Jack wants to know who will be left standing beside him when the Para-moon begins. If Flambe´ is what Jack thinks he is, the good guys might have a chance. If not, they’ll be in deep… trouble. Where’s an F-18 when you need one?
Here’s what fans say:
“WOW…just wow!” “This is my new favorite series!” “Ok, I’m hooked, Give me, give me, give me some more!!!” “The Destiny Paramortals series is like a mini vacation away from the real world.” “Tempest is one of the best paranormal romance heroines I’ve ever read. She’s funny, sarcastic, hard-working and has the power to wield storms with her fingertips.”
Read the books in order:
Storm Crazy #1
Cry Me a River #2
Eve of Chaos #3
Blame it on the Moon #4
Take These Broken Wings #5
Blood Moon #6 coming April 2018
NNLight’s review from https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com
It’s the night before Chaos (24 hour period where many Paramortals lose their powers and are weakened humans and where the bad/evil paranormal creatures lay waste to Storm Lake and everyone in it) and our gang of Paramortals are starting to act oddly. They’re slowly losing their powers and evil is infiltrating Storm Lake.
Sheriff Jack is trying to get a handle on things, mostly trying to protect those he cares about: his daughter and Tempest. There’s a new player in town (psst, a dragon) and Jack needs to know if he is good or evil.
But in all actuality, this book is all about Montana. Half vampire, she’s got special abilities and she’s drooling over Conor de Sept Flambé. She’s a strong female warrior who protects the weak and Conor is all-warrior. Sparks fly and these two are perfectly matched for each other.
At the end of the day, Jack is frightened and he doesn’t know if anyone will survive the Para-moon. Tempest worries him most of all because she is shivering in the cool air (and she never gets cold) and he is helpless to stop it. All he can do is hold her close… and pray she makes it.
Montana. What a woman! She’s the ultimate female warrior and kicks ass! Think Buffy on steroids. She’s a close friend to Tempest and when she lays eyes on Conor at the Mardi Gras ball, she’s smitten. His swords appeal to her warrior side and his quiet strength melts her insides. She’s used to taking control but Conor wields all control. They’re a fantastic couple and I loved the two of them together. Foreplay = sparring in the dark. Loved it!
His chin dropped, both eyes flashed then reduced to gold slits, as they’d done in his dragon form, but the heat receded when he got her true meaning. “This is not a carnival, and I am not your carousel horsey.” ~ Conor
My Rating: 5 stars
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DC native, Livia Quinn moved to the wilds of Louisiana where the weather and culture of the region inspired her settings and her jobs as a mail carrier, salesperson, plant manager, business owner and professional singer provided fodder for her characters. She finished her first novel the summer of Katrina. On the bayou, she is protected from the snakes, alligators and bears by her husband and feisty Pomeranian, Dusty.
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Destiny Paramortals: “It’s like a mini-vacation from the real world.” “Run don’t walk to the buy button.”
“ok, I am hooked! I am so ready to know the rest of the story from this series.” D. Williams
“Oh, My God, I loved this book…It’s like a mini-vacation from the real world… Run don’t walk to the buy button” Cindy Marley
“Loving this series.” Avalon
“This book got me from the first paragraph, couldn’t put it down.” Sandra Kizziah
“I can’t give this book enough praise.” the Naughty Librarian
“Alpha hero, kick-ass heroine, creepy villain – what’s not to like?… She made the tough guy soft in all the right places.” D.M. Garner, Amazon
Sooner than she expected their warmup ended and Conor stood over her, swords sheathed once again, “Close the curtains.” Balancing on one foot, he removed one boot dropping it to the floor with a heavy clunk. The other followed.
Huh? Practice was over and now he wanted payment?
“That was hardly worth a kiss much less sex,” Montana said.
He actually snickered, “Tha’ twas hardly a kiss, and we have’nae begun to train. Don’t be so impatient, Branislava. We’ll get to the love-making, and you will’na be disappointed, eh?” She’d known he was arrogant but she felt a silent eye-roll nevertheless. “We need complete darkness,” he said, prompting her once again.
Montana did as he asked while he closed the other doors to block out all filtered light. When she pulled the curtains on the last window and turned, the room was black and the Knight blended as if he didn’t exist. She assumed she did as well. She listened for movement. There was none. Gripping Mathilda with her right hand, she searched the darkness for some hint, a lack, a movement with her left. She sensed his heat first approaching from her right. “Aye, use all your senses,” his voice came, low and from everywhere. She swung her sword to the right. “Close your eyes,” his voice whispered, from somewhere else. How did he do that? She inhaled—“Don’t. Make your breathing invisible. Your opponent should’na be able to see or hear your breath. T’will give away your next move.”
She exhaled, allowing the breath to mingle with the air around her. “Ach, stop concentrating so hard. I can hear your brain. Center yourself as if you had your power. Allow your natural abilities and senses to take over for what you have lost.”
She slid silently to her left, inviting her senses to do the work her eyes could not. There, a wisp of air, her blade came up and clashed with Conor’s, slid along its length as she spun and crouched, exhaling a controlled breath and a slow silent intake. There it was again, this time she was sure it was a step, and his heat. Her leg came out parallel to the ground and swiped, hearing his grunt as he leaped and hit the floor on the other side of her. “Good. Now stand, extend the sword in front of you,” he said. Matilda’s edge touched his blade and as he slid it along the length of hers she heard him start to hum. The songs from the dance. With the moves he’d taught her, now, she would fight him in the dark.
The first of her strikes was awkward. His baritone tune paused, “keep your weight balanced”, and resumed as he walked through the steps with her in the dark. Hmm hm hm Mm-mmm, sa..tis..faction.” Move, turn, lunge, strike-slide-free. “I can’t get no-o…” lunge retreat spin-out, duck. She recognized the rock tune as the beat set the pace for each of her steps, she turned and parried, found her rhythm and realized she was seeing through her other senses.
She heard his breath, felt the heat of it, and the scent of his skin suddenly seemed a part of her. When his back was to hers she slammed the sword hilt into his shoulder, the loud clank of one sword confirmed her aim, but no exhalation, no cry of pain. He was good. Silently, she made three crouched turns in a direction she thought was away from him, rose quietly just as both of his arms manacled her upper body and he whispered, “You’re dead, little dragon.”