Liza: Georgia, glad to have you back to my blog. It’s been a while, which means I feel compelled to interrogate you a bit. Hope you don’t mind.
Georgia: Shoot. I’m ready!
Liza: My first question concerns the first words of your book:
“From the scorching pits of Tartarus, a warrior emerges with a deadly need for more than vengeance…”
I searched Google Earth and I could not find the scorching pits of Tartarus. Where exactly is this place?
Georgia: Ah, of course you’re not going to find it ON Google Earth. It’s beneath, in a place humans fear—the Dark Realm/Dark World, Underworld, Netherworld, take your pick.
Liza: My next question is about timing. Why didn’t you release this BEFORE Halloween? Then people could read and realize they should NOT be wandering around at night! Especially NOT on Halloween!
Georgia: Why would I do that? I love scaring the hell—get it? Hell—out of people.
Liza: I stay locked in in my house…. Mostly because I refuse to give children unhealthy candy to eat and no one will take an apple as a Halloween treat anymore, given all the fabricated stories about razors in apples. So, I put my car in the garage, turn off all the outdoor lights and make my house as dark as possible. And still hungry small gremlins pound on my door.
I’m pretty sure, some of them are real gremlins.
Georgia: You scaredy cat! Where’s the fun in that? Don’t you want to bump into all the things that go bump-in-the night? The real deal freely roams the night on Halloween.
Liza: No, I seriously do NOT want bump into demons, thank you anyway. Now, could you call in the scary big guy, Dagan. By the way, that’s not a terribly frightening name.
Dagan: *Eyes narrows* Really? It’s Day-gun. Scared yet?
Liza: I’ve been reading up on you. Can you tell me why you are so thirsty? You do realize, that almost every house in America has running water, right?
Dagan: Water’s for the weak. I need something stronger. Your neck looks mighty tempting, little human.
Liza: Back off Day Boy. You do not want to mess with me. I’m an author, too you know. Now, back to the interrogation. Does being immortal mean you won’t die if someone lops off your head? Because I am tempted right now!
Dagan: *shrugs* That shit will kill anyone. But Others—supernatural scourge—once they cross my path are the ones usually left trying to sew their own heads back on—wait, there is no resurrection for evil scum once my sword lopes off their head off.
Liza: Just leave mine alone, so we can continue your interview. Shae Ion says you are sinfully sexy and totally impossible, and you abducted her declaring you were trying to keep her alive. You do know modern women can take care of themselves, right. Just today, I battled with my queen size mattress and won!
Dagan: That’s good to know. Explain to me, how would you—a human—take on a horde of vicious supernatural beings and come out of it alive? Shae may hate it, but she’s human, and she knows when she needs help.
Liza: Shae also said the first time you spoke to her, she smashed you in the nose. Is that true?
Dagan: *His hard demeanor cracks, a smile ghosts his mouths* Yes... That woman packs quite a punch. She’s…unforgettable.
Liza: Well, I best send you back to that place Google Earth can’t find so Georgia can share more about the book. I must say from my research on the matter, it’s going to be exciting!
Dagan: *Pushes to his feet and heads for the door, then pauses* Tartarus is NOT on Earth. Besides, I long vacated that hellhole…to elsewhere.
Liza: Wait—what? Then where do you live?
Dagan: You just declared this interview over. Goodbye Liza O’ Connor.
Author: Georgia Lyn Hunter
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Series: Fallen Guardians #3
Title: Guardian Unraveled
From the scorching pits of Tartarus, a warrior emerges with a deadly need for more than vengeance…
A loner, Dagan, lives with an inexorable thirst he’s kept hidden for eons, even from his fellow Guardians. Until he meets a beautiful, maddening human who awakens in him a hunger that shakes him to his very core, and threatens to shatter his tightly erected shields, exposing his dangerous secret. And wanting her is a path leading to destruction.
Driven to find her missing mother in a shadowy world, Shae Ion refuses to be sidetracked. When she becomes the target for a sinister force, a sinfully sexy and utterly impossible immortal abducts her, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe.
Stuck in an isolated place with the reclusive Guardian who allows no one close, Shae struggles to control her burgeoning powers, and is unprepared for the tangled emotions he stirs in her. But passion has a way of obliterating barriers.
However, the road to happiness is strewn with treachery. Nothing is sacred or safe. When a ruthless old enemy resurfaces, and comes after Shae, they are drawn into a terrifying, supernatural battle. And not even Dagan, a lethal immortal warrior who’d lay down his life for her, can save her now…
Review of Guardian Unraveled,
A Fallen Guardian Novel
This is a dark and complex story, thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to like it.
However, even during the darkness, there were well-placed moments of humor. That made all the difference in the world. These weren’t campy humor, but rather the annoying and stupid things that go on in regular life that you just have to laugh at.
This is a story of all sorts of ‘demons’ and ‘angels’ and a large variety of other creatures in a rather complex tale. Honestly, I couldn’t remember what half of them did, but I didn’t need to. For every battle, the author made it very clear who was good and who was bad, except for those she deliberately hid for surprises in the story.
Warning: the sex scenes are very explicit. They are not thrown it for simple titillation, rather they are a legitimate part of the story progression. Still, young people should not be reading this book.
I was a bit worried the ending might be a cliffhanger, but it wasn’t. In fact, by the time I reached the end of the story, I thought it one of the best books I’ve read this year.
from the opening chapter:
Dagan cut into another gloomy backstreet. Aaand found himself back in the alley where he’d started his patrol.
Farther up, more inebriated humans geared in their Halloween get-ups stumbled out of Club Nocte. The long line remained, partygoers braving the chill, waiting to get inside.
He scanned the place, but the vibe he’d been tracking had gone cold. He bit back a curse. Just great. Except for the demoniis he’d killed earlier, there was nothing that pricked at his senses.
He headed in the opposite direction, deeper into the alley, away from the noise, and staggered to a halt. A mouth-watering scent flooded his senses.
Blood. Fresh human blood.
The seductive aroma seeped through him, tightening his body and saturating his mind like a compulsion. His jaw clenched, his incisors throbbed.
He whipped around, scanning the alley. Pain stabbed his belly, shredding his gut. Hunger took hold. He fell against the wall, struggling against the temptation, eyes shut tight. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to plant his booted feet on the asphalt and not go after the faint ambrosia trail.
Sometimes, he regretted killing that first damn bird which had bound him to his deadly thirst, but he understood too he couldn’t have deviated from that fated path any more than he could stop breathing.
“Are you all right?” a husky voice asked.
She was tall for a mortal, yet the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He could clearly make out her alabaster features in the gloomy alley, and the noticeable, bumpy Y-shaped scar running down her cheek. He didn’t care how good she looked, right then, all he could think about was just how delicious she’d taste…blood infused with strawberries and spice. Decadent.
He scanned for the source of the decadent aroma. There, on her scraped knuckles, he saw the smear of red. The predator side of him thinly leashed, he fought for control—battled not to sink his fangs into her carotid.
“Leave!” His eyes slit in warning. Damn do-gooder humans.
“Look, I’m just trying to—”
“I don’t need help,” he growled. The gentle rush of the blood in her veins tugged at his senses, tempting him to will her closer so her rich, warm plasma could slide down his throat. His incisors dropped. Shit. He held his breath, reached into her mind, and willed her gone…but hit a wall.
What the hell? He could compel anybody.
With his control fading fast, he leaped away from the wall and loomed over her. Bared his fangs. “Get the hell away from me if you want to keep breathing.”
Stormy gray-gold eyes widened. Then she stunned all hell outta him and glared right back. “Is that supposed to frighten me? A pair of fake fangs? Shouldn’t you be out there with all the other cretins scaring the innocents tonight instead of hiding in the shadows like some pleb?”
At the taunt, Dagan didn’t think, he hauled her to him, raking those “fake fangs” down her neck, bruising the skin a little, a hair’s breadth past her carotid.
The girl squeaked and slapped her palms on his chest. “What the hell?”
His arm banded around her waist, and he sucked on her fast-beating pulse, his saliva already healing the bruised skin. Unable to let her go just yet, he settled for running his tongue over her silky, warm flesh. She smelled of cinnamon and strawberries, a taste he’d long forgotten. A light brush of her psychic powers skipped over him.
She yanked free, surprising him with her agility, and drew back her fist. He saw the punch coming and let it, hoping it would clear the damn haze in his head. She nailed him straight in the face.
Fuuuck! Stars exploded in his skull, stunning him senseless with the power of her blow.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me like that!” Her slanted eyes glowered like a wildcat’s in the dark. Shaking her fingers, she stormed off, muttering in disgust. “What the hell was I thinking trying to help that barbarian? I should have just left.”
Dagan stood there, dazed, his blood strumming. What the hell was he thinking? He hadn’t lost control like that in millennia.
About the Author:
I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. I’m a hopeless romantic.
When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, paint, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they’re so pretty.
After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion six years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.
Oh, and I hail from the beautiful country of South Africa, and currently live in the Middle East.
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