What the eff ellie… another non-book review blog post? Well yeah. We like reading, but we all like shopping too. And jewelry. So suck it up buttercup. Some random posts thrown in here and there with cool shit I find online. I’m a believer in sharing a good find.
Iz & Co.
I stumbled on Iz on Instagram, because if you haven’t noticed, I kinda like skulls. A lot. A lot a lot.
Sale comes around and I think, “why the hell not spend my hard earned money on a lil somethin’ somethin’…” After adding essentially one of everything into my cart, I came to the conclusion that I had to choose just one. I settle on the 14t Rose Gold Black Diamond Skull Ring.
Amazing. Utterly amazing. The quality, the style, the comfort. This jewelry is made to last a lifetime and wear daily. Iz is pretty amazing too. Haha “Iz is”… That’s funny. But great customer service. Great items. And I’ll definitely be back. Soon. Very soon.
I got my eye on the new skull ring, evil eye ring, skull necklace, Hamsa necklace… My list continues.
Check ’em out dudes and dudettes!
K. Back to editing instead of shopping. ✌🏻️
PUCKED BY HELENA HUNTING
With a famous NHL player for a step-brother, Violet Hall is well acquainted with the playboy reputation many hockey stars come with. She’s smart enough to steer clear of those hot, well-built boys with unparalleled stamina. That is until she meets the legendary team captain—Alex Waters.
Violet isn’t interested in his pretty, beat-up face, or his rock-hard six-pack abs. But when Alex inadvertently obliterates Violet’s previous misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players, he becomes more than just a hot body with a face to match.
In what can only be considered a complete lapse in judgment, Violet finds out just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants. But what starts out as a one-night stand, quickly turns into something more. Post-night of orgasmic magic, Alex starts to call, and text, and e-mail and send extravagant—and quirky—gifts, making him difficult to ignore, and even more difficult not to like.
The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn’t want to be part of the game.
Okay, first…. can we take a few minutes to gaze longingly at that cover? It’s a thing of beauty and I just want to lick it! Helena… I’m not sure where you found that man, but I’d keep that guy on speed dial. I mean…. damn.
If I had to pick one word to describe this book it would be fucking-hilarious! That’s one gloriously hyphenated word that describes this book perfectly. I can’t even pick a character from the book I didn’t like… and I usually hate at least one… wait… Kirk is an ass!
I’ve read Hunting’s entire Clipped Wings series and even though I loved it, I would never have pegged her as one of my go to writers for humor. After this book, if there is any chance of her writing a book about the other players on the Hawk’s team, I’m fucking there!!
Anyway, let’s talk about the story. Violet has a brother, Buck… I think the name says it all, who is a hockey player and a total man-whore. Don’t you just picture some kind of plaid wearing Neanderthal?
“A huge, perverted, hairy whore of a yeti.”
So, she knows what the players are like. And when she meets Alex, the captain of Buck’s team, she knows this is someone she should probably avoid. I mean his reputation precedes him. But the chemistry between them is so strong and so unbelievably hard to resist she ends up mouth fucking him on the first meet. That’s her words, not mine…. What I love about Violet is that her internal dialogue was so incredibly realistic. Let’s face it, most of us, I mean us women, have an internal dialogue that is not only funny but a little bit scattered. And with Violet you get that in spades.
“My mind is wandering like a squirrel on Red Bull.”
We’ve all been there, right?
Alex is the typically clueless guy with a terrible reputation. On the plus side, he has a monster cock, so it balances out. And Violet LOVES his cock!
“I love his penis. I want to give it a sponge bath and dress it up like a super hero.”
The problem with Alex is that he’s never really worried about his reputation until it starts to bite him in the ass and affects his starting a relationship with Violet. It seems like every time he starts to make some progress he blows it.
I had so much fun just waiting for what was going to happen next, I tore through this. And the Epilogue? One of the best epilogues I’ve read in probably the last two years. Pick this book up now! You will not regret it and you’ll have a new go to author. Now, bring me Buck!
BUY IT NOW ON AMAZON: Pucked
“Never forget that I was your first real kiss. Never forget that you’ll be my last.
And never stop loving me between all of them.
Never stop, Charlie.
Silas races against time as more truths unravel, while others twist tighter together. And now, the stakes are higher as Silas’ control slips and others begin to point fingers. Charlie is in trouble and he must be the one to bridge the chasm between their past and their present. Because somewhere between I love yous and Never Nevers and Never Agains, a truth they can’t imagine, beckons to be found.
“Where are you, Charlie?”
Note to Colleen and Tarryn:
Ha. Ha. Ha.
You two are fucking evil. I hope you remember how you signed my Never Never…. it said “ELLIE STOP READING BOOKS.” Ermigod. I hate you both.
Ugh. I love you both. Assholes.
Okay… I’m done venting to Colleen and Tarryn. God dammit though. These two produce magic together. Like unicorns and rainbow and glitter.
So you read Never Never. And saw Never Never Part Two coming and were like “YES! Answers!” Nope. Not even fucking close. But seriously, this mysterious ride is kind of hot and exciting, so I’m not even bothered that these two are completely fucking with my mind.
This is a definite continuation of Part 1 and I think you can figure out that NONE of these are stand alone books. They are ridiculously funnly (whatever, my own word) addicting. Like I imagine meth is. I can’t get enough of this frustration of trying to figure out the answers, but I’ve kind of figured to stop asking and just ride the ride and fucking enjoy it.
In all honesty, this series is absolutely brilliant and you are definitely crazy if you haven’t jumped on this bandwagon yet. Exceptional character development and story telling, with zero information and answers given. How is that even possible?
Now give me another Part now so I can bang my head against a brick wall.
Never Never (entire series) Spotify Playlist (Optional to Post):
Never Never Part One Book Trailer by Cris Hadarly at The Book Avenue:
Colleen Hoover is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Slammed, Point of Retreat, This Girl, Hopeless, Losing Hope, Maybe Someday, Finding Cinderella, Ugly Love and Confess. She lives in Texas with her husband and their three boys.
Author website http://colleenhoover.com
Tarryn Fisher is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of six novels. Her latest novel, Marrow, just released in April 2015 and she is currently working on the third installment of Never Never. She is the co-founder of the fashion blog Clothed Caption. Tarryn resides in the Seattle area with her family. She loves rainy days, Coke, and thinks Instagram is the new Facebook. Tarryn is represented by Amy Tannenbaum of the Jane Rotrosen Agency.
Author website http://www.tarrynfisher.com/
Buy Links for Never Never: Part Two
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1E6PrvN
Amazon UK: amazon.co.uk/dp/B00TUXIF9G
Buy Links for Never Never: Part One
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1wxU6E8
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/14a3SnN
“Stop looking at me.” I fight a girlish smile, hating how I feel so stupidly giddy in his presence. I keep my eyes fixed on the oil and pastel painting of ballerinas that hangs prominently on the wall in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phoenix simply beam back at me with that damn grin and that perfect dimple that I’ve come to love so much. I know he’s happy, but beyond that he doesn’t give much away. Actually, since we’ve moved to New York, he doesn’t give much away, period.
“What?” I goad, turning to face him.
“Nothing.” He looks back to the exhibit wall, smirking at the artwork.
“Do I have something on my face, Phoenix?”
His laugh echoes throughout the Degas exhibit room. “No, Ivy. There’s nothing wrong with your face. Your face is perfect.” He winks and then steps to the next picture in the room. It’s a gray pastel sketch of another dancer, but this one is holding a fan as her feet are turned out in some numbered position that I can’t remember.
I smile at him intently as he feigns interest. I know art isn’t his thing, but he makes it his thing. For me. He makes everything his thing for me. And it makes me love him even more.
Sigh. Slowly this man has become the world to me. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly don’t need a man, but I feel fulfilled having him in my life. Phoenix just makes everything better.
The museum is eerily quiet tonight. My high heels echo off the marble, interrupting the silence in the wing. I lace my fingers between his as we stand shoulder to shoulder.
“I wish I had her kind of easy grace.” I rest my head against his shoulder and look at the sketch. “My parents made me take dance for a year when I was little. I hated the tutus and tights and would pitch a fit whenever they made me go.”
“I love that.”
“What? That I hated tutus?”
“No, that I learn something new about you every day.” Phoenix hums softly and lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around my waist, drawing me even closer to him. His cologne is warm and inviting. I inhale him deeply, committing his scent to memory, thankful he can’t see me do it.
“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re graceful.”
I snort as he reaches out and gently pulls my chin toward him. I’m about to tell him I’m as graceful as a Mack truck when he plants a whisper of a kiss upon my lips. Even after a thousand kisses, my heart still quivers when his lips touch mine. I like how every kiss feels like our first kiss under the stars. He likes to make each kiss special. Memorable. It’s as if he’s trying to replace all of the tainted kisses from my past with his good ones.
Phoenix withdraws, stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet, heel to toe, over and over again. For whatever reason, he’s nervous—I think. Phoenix has been acting a little strange lately. He’s still his wonderful, charming, caring self, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. We’re closer than ever, yet he manages to keep himself at a slight distance, never letting me in completely.
He doesn’t think I notice these things. But I do.
And it drives me fucking mad.
We’ve been in New York for exactly six weeks and tonight marks our sixth date. It was Phoenix’s idea to plan an outing once a week to explore our new city together. He even made a list of all the things he wants to do and stuck it on our obnoxiously loud fridge, ceremoniously scratching each one off after each date. So far we’ve seen a musical on Broadway, gone people watching in Washington Square, ridden the Staten Island Ferry, kissed atop the Empire State Building, and pedaled our way through Central Park. Tonight we are at The Met. It’s my first time here, and I’m pretty sure I never want to leave.
Six wonderful weeks.
But through these six weeks, I’ve seen new sides of him unfold. He’s the same Phoenix I fell for, just a little more guarded. I know he has a lot on his mind between trying to patch things up with his estranged father who is dying of cancer and getting settled with his new architecture firm. Plus, I know that living with your brand new girlfriend in an apartment the size of a postage stamp can’t be easy. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something he’s not telling me.
“Why are you acting so strange?” I bump into him playfully, trying to hide the concern in my voice.
“What do you mean?” He pulls his hands from his pockets and gently holds my face, tracing his thumb over my lips.
“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like yourself lately. You’re distracted. Is everything okay?” I look at him intently, my eyes pleading to tell me what’s on his mind.
“What? I can’t kiss my girl whenever I want?”
He takes my hand and twirls me around before pulling me to his chest, swaying our bodies in a music-less dance. But his smile, his touch, his charm … It all disarms me and I forget about his reservations and find myself wanting to fall into him further.
“No … That you can do.”
I wrap my arms around his neck to still his restless body. My eyes focus on his perfect lips, soaking in his beauty as he starts to lean in to kiss me again, but hesitates. In a brushing moment of solemnity, I can see the secrets in his eyes. I search his expression for the answers, but then he offers me the small endearing smile that I fell in love with and whatever burden plagued his mind melts away.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Ivy,” he says, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind my ear. “We’ve been circling this place for hours now, surrounded by priceless works of art, and yet you are the only masterpiece I’ve seen in this entire museum.”
And just like that, I’m a puddle at his feet.
He always knows what to say and when. He always knows how to make me feel every indescribable emotion. He is obnoxiously perfect like that. And I couldn’t hate him for it, even if I tried. I just wish he knew that too much perfection could be a mistake.
Phoenix holds my face in his hands and rubs his thumb over my lips. I don’t dare speak and spoil the moment. Instead, I roll up on my tippy-toes and place a delicate kiss upon his lips. When I start to pull away, he pulls me closer deepening the kiss, exploring my mouth with his. Slowly, he traces his hands down my shoulders, over my arms and around my waist, his lips never leaving mine.
I am connected to this man in every way imaginable.
I swallow his groan and my head spins. Even after a thousand kisses, this never gets old. This simple display of love is so not overrated, at least with him. Kissing him has always been a heady venture. I’m drowning in his sensations.
The sweet taste of his lips …
The smell of his cologne …
The scruff of his five o’clock shadow against my skin …
I need to feel him in my veins. It’s all too easy to get lost in.
He picks me up, and I instinctively tangle my legs around his waist, hooking him closer to my body. I don’t even bother being embarrassed by the fact my dress rides up dangerously close to my ass.
My back slams against the doorframe into the room. Phoenix’s mouth and deliciously hot breath move from my lips to just below my ear, down my neck before coming to rest on my collarbone. The sensory overload sends chills up my spine.
I feel his hand lightly trail from my calf up to my thigh and tease my skin along the bottom edge of the fabric of my dress. I know exactly what he’s craving right now.
And fuck, I’m aching for it, too.
“Nu-uh,” I say, not believing the words that fall from my mouth. I gently grab his hand and move it away from my upper thigh. I roll my head back, giving him easier access and softly moan as he runs his lips back up my neck, drinking me in.
“Ivy …” Phoenix breathes as he continues his assault of tender kisses. He’s waiting for me to stop him again. Deep down, I want to grab his hand and pull him into a remote part of the museum.
Where the cameras don’t reach.
Where there’s less of a risk of getting caught.
Where I can finally ignore my nagging conscious and just lose myself in him.
I fight the urge to strip down and take him right here in public. Everything about him feels so damn good. And every last part of my body needs him in every sense of the word.
Every part of me except my head.
“Stop.” I shut my eyes tightly, instantly regretting the declaration. It always slams me from ten thousand feet in the air to the hard ground below. Don’t get me wrong—I want to. I’m just not ready to go there yet.
Life is still too raw.
Wounds not yet healed.
My mind still not at ease with how life has played out.
And yet here he stays.
One day my head, my heart, and my drive will all fall in sync. But that day is not today. I can practically hear the old Ivy in the bowels of my brain flipping her shit in frustration. But I know better. I won’t jump in deep waters so soon and wreck everything we’ve worked so hard to overcome and build.
This relationship is something I refuse to ruin. And clearly my track record of relationships driven by sex has worked out so well. I just want to build us up first before potentially complicating things further with sex.
Slowly, I unwrap my legs and Phoenix gently lowers my feet to the floor. I tug down the bottom of my dress and search his face for disappointment. He masks it well as he silently nods and then presses his forehead to mine.
“I love you, Ivy.” He says the words so softly I barely hear him, but I feel the words on his breath and the weight of his profession in every cell of my body.
I’m a shotgun loaded with emotion, desperate to pull the trigger and catapult us into unchartered territory.
I unwillingly pry myself from Phoenix and we look toward the sound to find a gray-haired man in a uniform watching us uncomfortably from a few feet away. He purses his lips and shifts his weight from foot to foot.
“The museum is closing in fifteen minutes. If you could, uh, please wrap things up and make your way back downstairs.” The security guard moves his gaze to the floor before continuing to walk through the wing.
Well, that’s just great. Had I known we were giving a show, I would have at least made it a little more exciting for everyone involved. Then again, with security being tighter than Fort Knox, it’s a wonder we weren’t interrupted sooner. Or maybe he was just watching us for that long. Ugh.
My cheeks flush scarlet and Phoenix winks at me.“C’mon, Ivy.” He places his hand in the small of my back and whisks me toward the elevators.
The sky is dark and velvety by the time we make it outside. It’s surprisingly chilly for early August, but it’s a nice reprieve from the sweltering summer nights we’ve experienced lately. A breeze sends goose bumps down my body as it rolls over my skin. Phoenix takes my hand in his and leads me down the stairs. “Are you ready to go home? Or would you rather grab a drink somewhere?”
“Nah.” I look back at The Met—it’s truly stunning when it’s lit up at night. I wish we could have stayed longer and explored the other exhibits though I’m sure Phoenix was bored a few hours ago. “Why don’t we just walk?”
He smiles his killer smile and we take off in no particular direction with no particular destination. We walk hand in hand, in silence, for a good fifteen minutes. When we stop at a crosswalk, I notice the same unsettled look in his eyes that I’ve witnessed off and on for the past few weeks. Just as I’m about to ask if something’s on his mind, he speaks.
“You know what I appreciate the most about you?”
“What’s that?” My heart flutters in anticipation of his answer.
“You make living each day easier. With you, Ivy, you let the past stay there. You allow for history to be done. ”
I know exactly what he means by this. After all, he does the same for me.
“I love you.” I give his hand a squeeze.
“I know you do. I love me, too.”
I slug him playfully in the shoulder and he just laughs. “I love you too, Ivy. More than you could ever begin to comprehend.”
The streetlight changes along with my mood and we turn in the direction of our apartment, heading home.
We really lucked out finding that apartment. It’s an older building in SoHo with archaic appliances and no elevator. The bad news is we have to schlep up three flights of stairs to get to our fourth floor apartment. But the good news is my calves have never looked better. The tiny apartment we call home is roughly the size of the walk-in closet at my parents’ house back in Chicago. We have just enough living space to not be in each other’s business all the time, just enough counter space for a coffee maker, and just enough closet space to hang up our nicer clothes.
But I love it because it’s ours.
Normally our silences are welcomed. Comfortable, even. But as we walk down Fifth Avenue, the quiet between us is unnerving. I tuck a loose strand behind my ear and slow my pace.
“You’d tell me if something were wrong, right?”
He stops walking and turns toward me. “Yeah, of course I would.” He forces a tight smile and I instantly know that he’s lying to me. It’s infuriating how we can have hundreds of miles between us and be so intimately close, but then there are moments when he’s standing right next to me and we may as well have the expanse of the sea between us.
“Really?” I ask, searching for any kind of reassurance from him. He knows he can open up to me about anything. I just wish he would.
“Yes, really.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He reaches out and takes my face in his hands, tracing his thumb along my jawline. Phoenix leans down to kiss me, but pauses just before our lips meet. He looks me in the eye and I feel the sadness or frustration or whatever the hell it is he’s harboring. And when his lips touch mine, I feel that same sadness in the depth of my belly.
I pull away hesitantly, my heart breaking. “Okay,” I say softly, effectively dropping the subject. I love him enough to let it go … for now.
But deep down we both know this conversation is far from over.
By: Amy Harmon
Available: June 15, 2015
Cover by: Hang Le
She said I was like a song. Her favorite song. A song isn’t something you can see. It’s something you feel, something you move to, something that disappears after the last note is played.
I won my first fight when I was eleven years old, and I’ve been throwing punches ever since. Fighting is the purest, truest, most elemental thing there is. Some people describe heaven as a sea of unending white. Where choirs sing and loved ones await. But for me, heaven was something else. It sounded like the bell at the beginning of a round, it tasted like adrenaline, it burned like sweat in my eyes and fire in my belly. It looked like the blur of screaming crowds and an opponent who wanted my blood.
For me, heaven was the octagon.
Until I met Millie, and heaven became something different. I became something different. I knew I loved her when I watched her stand perfectly still in the middle of a crowded room, people swarming, buzzing, slipping around her, her straight dancer’s posture unyielding, her chin high, her hands loose at her sides. No one seemed to see her at all, except for the few who squeezed past her, tossing exasperated looks at her unsmiling face. When they realized she wasn’t normal, they hurried away. Why was it that no one saw her, yet she was the first thing I saw?
If heaven was the octagon, then she was my angel at the center of it all, the girl with the power to take me down and lift me up again. The girl I wanted to fight for, the girl I wanted to claim. The girl who taught me that sometimes the biggest heroes go unsung and the most important battles are the ones we don’t think we can win.
Amy Harmon is a USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author. Amy knew at an early age that writing was something she wanted to do, and she divided her time between writing songs and stories as she grew. Having grown up in the middle of wheat fields without a television, with only her books and her siblings to entertain her, she developed a strong sense of what made a good story. Her books are now being published in several countries, truly a dream come true for a little country girl from Levan, Utah.
Amy Harmon has written seven novels – the USA Today Bestsellers, Making Faces and Running Barefoot, as well as Slow Dance in Purgatory, Prom Night in Purgatory, Infinity + One and the New York Times Bestseller, A Different Blue. Her newest release, The Law of Moses, is now available. For updates on upcoming book releases, author posts and more, join Amy at www.authoramyharmon.com
Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads
***This is a prequel novella to Fisher’s Light. It is about the life of Trip Fisher. Fisher’s Light should be read before Worth the Trip***
It’s time for me to tell my story.
I know I’m a coward for waiting this long to explain my side of things. I know I should have tried long before now to make amends. There’s nothing like staring right at death’s door to put a fire under your ass. I’m going to die with enough regrets to fill ten notebooks and that’s a tough pill to swallow, but when I meet my maker, I want to be able to hold my head high with the knowledge that at least I confronted all of those regrets.
The Life and Times of Trip Fisher
I’m sorry, I love you, please forgive me.
Age isn’t just a number. Its days, weeks, months, years of disappointments and memories and watching your life pass right in front of your eyes, knowing you can’t go back and do things differently. You have one shot to get it right and if you screw it up….well, that’s just too damn bad.
Jefferson “Trip” Fisher has lived on the island his entire life. He fell in love with his best friend and soulmate, started a family with her and then lost it all after her death. Now that death has come to claim him, he decides to journal his life and explain why he made the choices he made and also the regrets he has had to live with.
I run my fingertips over the face that fills so many pictures in this album. The woman who loved me more than I ever deserved. The woman who made me feel like I could do anything I put my mind to. She loved me until her dying breath and it’s only fair that I do the same.
Trip takes us on an amazing journey from his childhood to present day. We get a peek into his childhood and the friendship he formed with Bev and we are able to see that friendship blossom into a beautiful love. Like every couple there are ups and downs, happiness and sadness.
I wish I could fix the mess I made with my son, but some mistakes can’t be mended with an apology. There isn’t a Band-aid big enough to stop the bleeding in that wound. I can’t even tell him that I did the best I could, because Lord knows that’s a damn lie.
You must read Fisher’s Light before reading this novella. Trip is very essential in that story and then when you read this, you will understand why he does the things he does.
Trip’s takes us on an emotional and beautiful story about love, loss and life. A journey about the circle of life, trying to wrong the rights but mostly appreciating the life you have and those you share it with.
Tara will break your heart and bring out some tears in the most beautiful way. A must read!
BUY IT NOW ON AMAZON: Worth the Trip (A Fisher’s Light Companion Novella)