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Showing posts with label Death Mask. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death Mask. Show all posts

Thursday, December 22, 2016

My review of Death Mask by Lexi Ander

Death Mask (Black Harbinger MC #1) by Lexi Ander 4*
BLURB: Grim Misery, the President of the Black Harbinger Motorcycle Club, discovers a wounded warlock and four werepups aboard the club's LSD shipment. And the news kept getting better and better. Not only is the warlock sitting on the edge of death, he's illegally bonded to the werepups, which could trigger a war with the werewolves—and he turns out to be Misery's estranged husband.
Years ago, Griffin turned Misery away to be with another warlock by the name of Marcheso Aldo. Misery left everything behind, even his family, but couldn't shake the heartbreak Griffin caused. With Griffin thrust back into Misery's life, he discovers things aren't as they seem… and everything is about to get much, much worse.


My Review: I don't usually read a lot of books about MCs but, as I've always enjoyed this author's work, I decided to give this one a try. I'm glad I did because it had all her trademark skill in drawing the reader into a fabulous world. With wonderful characters and a really gritty story line it wasn't hard to get immersed and, once finished, hoping that it won't be too long before she writes about some of the other fascinating people of the Black Harbinger MC.

Friday, November 18, 2016

Today I'm Hosting Lexi Ander as she tells us about werepups and her latest book Death Mask.

Welcome to my blog Lexi, it's a pleasure to have you here.


A huge thank you to Ilona for hosting me today. My new release, Death Mask, released on November 9th. It's a part of the Roughhouse Raiders collection from Less Than Three Press. Today I wanted to talk about the werewolf pups.

Every time I write about werewolves, I try to do something different than what I'd done before. Obviously, werewolves are popular in paranormal romances and urban fantasies. I'm sure that there are stories with every conceivable concept hashed out about them. It's a subject that is hard to find fresh ideas for. But I still try to insert something different—which means something that I haven't read in a while in the new releases—and spritz up the paranormals, at least a little bit.

In Death Mask, I inserted a hint of how the packs had changed as society and humans evolved over the years. I moved some of the focus from adult weres to their offspring, the pups. There are four of them introduced in the first chapter. The blurb tells you they are a cause for great concern.

The twist to the story is the werepups cannot take human form until they turn a year old which limits their ability to communicate in a conventional fashion. They are expressive in other ways. Even though they are young, the pups are still much more mature than a human babe their age, showing personality here and there while other times simply acting like a pup.

Blame this on all the cute baby animal videos that I watch on Facebook. I think most everyone enjoys the adorable antics of the very young. Sometimes, those little guys are the one bright light in the occasional craptastic day. The videos sometimes makes me yearn for another puppy. I have two very big dogs already and I really, really don't need another animal. About a month ago, my husband had a friend who had Chihuahua puppies. I gave him a quick no. We could probably manage a small dog with our big ones but Chihuahuas are a one person dog. They are jealous and don't share well, can be mean and vindictive, and the little guy wouldn't be a good fit for our family. Then last night Jason came across an Australian Shepard mix at an animal shelter who looked like my Hoover who is Akita and Australian Shepard. I immediately wanted him even knowing how big he would grow to be. I'm still trying to figure out how we could pay for extra vets and grooming bills for one more dog… Oi! I think I went off on a tangent. Back to the topic!

Where I was going with that was the antics of the werepups in the books adds a lightheartedness to the story. I worried that the theme (death, obviously) would draw the story down a darker road than intended. Though, if you've read me before, I don't write truly dark plots because I love feel good stories. You could say that I used the pups as a plot device to keep the brooding in Death Mask from going below a certain level. Because really, who can stay pissed off when there are puppies around?

With Death Mask a part of a series (each book will be a standalone), sometime down the road, the werepup will be seen through another character's eye/perception. At some time they'll change into their human form and I have no idea how old they'll be or what they'll be like. I really haven't thought about it yet. Several ideas have come and gone and none of them have enticed me into choosing one idea over another. It's kind of exciting because I've rarely read about werepups and their growth in other books. So this area might be some way to develop that "something different" that I'm always trying to achieve when it comes to werewolves. That would also mean that Grim and Griffin might get a short story here and there. Maybe. Perhaps. *side-eyes writing schedule* We'll see. :)


Thank you of stopping by and reading!!

Thank you Lexi it's been interesting to learn about your dogs, and more about Death Mask, you certainly made me want to read it.
Readers if you want to read an excerpt and/or try to win a copy just read my previous post and enter the giveaway.

Lexi Ander's Death Mask Tour & Giveaway.

Author: Lexi Ander
Title: Death Mask
Series: Black Harbingers MC
Cover Artist: Kirby Crow
Length: 43,000 words
Categories: Gay, Urban Fantasy, Fairy Tales,
Roughhouse Raiders
Release Date: November 9, 2016
Blurb:

Grim Misery, the President of the Black Harbinger Motorcycle Club, discovers a wounded warlock and four werepups aboard the club's LSD shipment. And the news kept getting better and better. Not only is the warlock sitting on the edge of death, he's illegally bonded to the werepups, which could trigger a war with the werewolves—and he turns out to be Misery's estranged husband.
Years ago, Griffin turned Misery away to be with another warlock by the name of Marcheso Aldo. Misery left everything behind, even his family, but couldn't shake the heartbreak Griffin caused. With Griffin thrust back into Misery's life, he discovers things aren't as they seem... and everything is about to get much, much worse.
Excerpt:
Chapter One

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." ~Norman Cousins


"Prez, you're gonna want to take a look at this." Nightingale, Sergeant in Arms of the Black Harbingers MC, called to me from the tail end of the box truck that recently arrived from the docks. The products the vehicle carried included the much-awaited shipment of LSD for the city's elder vampires. The goods were late by one week, and I had some agitated parasites on my hands. If someone so much as fucked with the shite, they would be in a world of hurt, because I had no qualms feeding the arseholes to the bloodsuckers.

The clubhouse for the MC was a repurposed three-story library. The block had been slated for demolition after World War II to make way for a strip mall or some such. I loved the building, with its Grecian columns, marble floors, and the liberal use of dark woods. She had character, and after I greased a few palms, she became our clubhouse, our home.

On the ground floor, to the rear of the building, were two bay doors. Semis could back up to one of them, allowing people to walk into the bed without using a ramp. The second bay, vehicles drove directly onto the dock. Granted, unloading the boxes was harder, but we didn't have to worry about prying eyes and for this shipment, we needed complete privacy.

By the tone of Night's voice, I wouldn't like what I'd see. One of the prospects had been sent to retrieve the truck from the docks. Not quite members of the MC, prospects were initiates working through the probationary period. Simply put, they were the club's gofers. They did anything and everything the brothers asked of them. They guarded the bikes in public places, manned the doors at the parties, and made sure no one unauthorized entered the clubhouse. If a brother's old lady needed to go somewhere, a prospect escorted them. The list of shitty duties was endless. At the end of the probation period, the brothers voted the prospect in or out, but until then, the prospect did what they were told, without complaint. Our newest prospect, Tinman, who'd picked up the box truck, stood off to the side looking concerned, but not afraid.

"The truck was where you'd said it'd be, Misery. There weren't any problems and no one followed me," he said, without prompting.

When I rounded the rear of the non-descript vehicle, the door was rolled up, exposing the back of the compartment, stacked with boxes. Nightingale stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his cut hidden by the muscular bulk of his arms. At one time, he'd been a Noble Fae. From which court, I'd never asked. When most preternaturals came looking to join the Black Harbingers, they left behind who they once were. The brothers only cared about the here and now, content to leave whatever hell they'd escaped in the past. We all carried secrets best left undisturbed, and we let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak.

Those who didn't know of Nightingale's origins wouldn't have believed he belonged to that waif-like race. He'd shed his litheness, becoming a motherfucking powerhouse of strength and muscle. Even his unnaturally-white hair, which many people assumed the poor bastard had gone gray early, didn't soften his appearance. Most bikers didn't have facial piercings because they stumbled into too many fistfights, but not Night. He wore a ring in the right nostril and two in his bottom lip that he fiddled with when something bothered him, like now. When he met my gaze, his green eyes were troubled. Then the scent hit me.

Blood.

When I went to ask what the fuck he was waiting for, Night placed a pale finger over his lips, biding me to listen. The sound was faint, but the soft whines of some kind of dog or… Well, fuck me sideways.

"Someone find Hog and Lalios." My request was made in a low voice, but the brothers jumped to it as if I'd yelled. Perhaps they felt my tension or they, too, scented the blood wafting from the back of the truck, now that the door had been raised.

More than one person drew a weapon. Grabbing the handrail on the side of the door, I readied to climb into the back.

"Misery," Night called to me softly, but I ignored him.

Even if werewolves had hidden in the truck, I didn't worry about my safety. The sound of the pitiful, tiny snarls and growls intensified when my heavy boots struck the bed. Pausing to listen, I couldn't hear an adult voice among the pups. With the scent of blood heavier in the confines of the cabin, I surmised the parent was severely injured. A werewolf in pain was a dangerous creature, more animal than man. Blinded by the agony, instinct would take over, and he, or she, would attack first to protect their young. If that were to happen, then I was the one equipped to handle the werewolf. Sure, I could be hurt like anyone else, but I was hard to kill. Living for almost two hundred years had proven that.

Listening intently, I heard three, perhaps four distinct voices, which was surprising. Nowadays, werewolves lived longer than they did five hundred years ago. When they became the stuff of folklore, people stopped hunting them. Since they lived a more peaceful existence, the number of litters they birthed dropped off to where pups were now born singly to couples every hundred years or so. The young were precious to the packs and there being four here made my skin crawl with foreboding. The day kept getting better and better.

Buy Links:
Author Bio
Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.
Giveaway
The giveaway will run through midnight on November 25th.
Must be 18 or order to participate.
Giving Away Two (2) Signed Paperbacks of Death Mask
Blog Tour Stops
November 14 – Alicia Nordwell, Jamie Lynn Miller,  
November 15 – MA Church
November 16 – LM Brown
November 18 – Tali Spencer, Sharita Lira