Author Guest Post
The Making of a Monster
I started writing a book about a young woman who was in a dangerous place, both emotionally and literally. Whatever you called her—girlfriend, mistress, or whore—she basically belonged to a cruel man. He was the leader of a criminal organization. His name was Carlos.
Trust in Me was the story of her bid for freedom, during which she found love with an undercover FBI agent. There were several things required for her to achieve an HEA, including her own determination, the love of a good man, and something that was hard for me as an author…she needed to leave Carlos.
It should have been easy. He’s a bad guy. A very bad guy. Maybe in another type of book, he might have been killed off and everyone could have been happy without him.
Except that isn’t the kind of book I write.
In my Dark Erotica series, that kind of man is prime anti-hero material. He’s powerful, he’s uncompromising, and he’s just waiting to be taken down a notch by the right heroine. So I put a note in the back of that book, last year, promising to write Carlos’s story. I really didn’t know if anyone would read it. Did I mention how bad Carlos is? So yeah….
But the response was really interesting. Quite a lot of readers wrote in to let me know they were looking forward to reading it, because they wanted to see how I would redeem him. Uh… what? I hadn’t really planned on redeeming him! He’s irredeemable, I think. It took me awhile to get my head around that, honestly, and decide where I wanted to go with it.
Is Carlos an evil guy, through and through, exactly as he appears in Trust in Me? Or there some dark secrets that only the right heroine could figure out? And if so, could these secrets actually redeem him?
I had to make that decision for myself, but one of the things I love about writing in this genre, about writing anti-heroes in general, is that each reader gets to make that decision for herself too. I hope you’ll consider finding out for yourself! If you do I’d love to hear from you on twitter or facebook.
About The Author
"Dark, disturbing, haunting, and beautiful, Skye Warren will take you into the depths of depravity but bring you home, safe in the end." - Kitty Thomas, author of Comfort Food
AUTHOR WEBSITE
YOU TUBE
GOODREADS
Book Review
Don't Let Go by Skye Warren
Book 4: Dark Erotica Series
Publisher: Independent Self Publishing
Publication Date: November 12, 2013
Format: e-Book - 189 pages / Kindle - 408 KB / Nook - 281 KB
ISBN: 9781940518039
ASIN: B00GLHKBL4
Genre: Dark Erotica
BUY THE BOOK: Don't Let Go
BUY THE SERIES: Dark Erotica
Book 1: Keep Me Safe
Book 2: Trust In Me
Book 3: Hear Me
Book 4: Don't Let Go
Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the author in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Book Promotions by Literary Nook.
Book Description:
Together they hunt for the FBI’s most wanted man. A criminal. A psychopath. But when they get close, Samantha may end up prey instead. She must face her dark past to stay alive—and to protect the man she loves.
Book Excerpt:
There were lies people told you. Like when the case worker said, You’re going to love your new home, Samantha.
Then there are lies you tell other people. My father passed away. That was what I told people, even though he’d just turned fifty-two in a supermax prison. It was easier that way. Lies smoothed the way so we could go on pretending. They were the lube of life, and we all got a little messy in the process.
But the darkest lies were the ones you told yourself. They lurked in the shadows of your subconscious, undermining you and twisting your perceptions. They hid the answers in plain sight, right when you needed them most.
Spread out on my desk were piles of surveillance photos and notes taken over the past twelve months. I found it impossible to imagine that countless field workers and researchers had managed to miss his completely. Which meant this muddled collection of reports contained the information we needed. Hiding in plain sight.
Every image, from airport security cameras to public transportation cams to satellite imagery, showed a man with his head bent, facing down or away. As if he knew exactly where the cameras were, eluding us once again. The man looking the other direction, he could have been anyone. He probably was anyone, considering the pattern of times and locations didn’t add up. Carlos Laguardia wasn’t in a Chicago eatery known for mob connections one day, and then a Paris subway the next, and then a Florida University after that. We were grasping at straws—carefully planted straws designed to misdirect.
Only one image was different. A grainy black-and-white photograph showed a man standing still with people milling about him. Blurs brushing past a dangerous criminal. A monster. They’d run screaming if they knew all the things he’d done. I had chills just reading about it in this air-conditioned cubicle at the highly-secure FBI office.
Money laundering. Extortion. Murder. If there was a law against it, he’d done it. A wave of old pain washed over me. Men like that didn’t care who they hurt, whether it was the victims of their crimes or collateral damage.
I had been collateral damage once. Twelve years ago, I’d huddled under the coffee table when my father came home late, hands crusted with blood. I should have been grateful he hadn’t ever touched me, raped me, killed me. He did that to other little girls. And boys—he was an equal opportunity creep.
Until he finally made a mistake. A boy from my street had disappeared, and even at ten years old, I knew what it meant. I still remembered the heat of that August day and the cold bite of the chair beneath my legs. Static from the plastic seat zapped my skin while I waited in the police station. Horror and pity flickered over the policeman’s face as I told him my story. I learned an important lesson then: criminals always make a mistake. Always.
If I could figure out Laguardia’s mistake, I’d have him. If I could find the little man with blue pants and a red striped shirt in this real life Where’s Waldo, he’d be mine. Unfortunately, the heavy stack of papers on my desk wasn’t talking.
This was the only image where he looked at the camera, but the resolution was too low for facial recognition software. I got the impression of patrician features—a broad forehead, a strong nose. Dark, curly hair peeked from beneath a thick skullcap. A bulky jacket obscured what looked to be a large frame of a man. Tall, compared to the people walking around him. Well, we’d always known he’d be physically fit and capable of fighting. But beneath his brawn was a mastermind who had run a global organization and eluded hundreds of trained law enforcement officers.
Not for much longer, though. The director had held an all-hands meeting last week.
“Laguardia has made a mockery of this organization,” he’d said, and at the back of the room, I’d silently agreed.
“Our ideals,” he’d continued, practically frothing at the mouth. “Our effectiveness. Even our dignity. A single man has turned us into a joke. That ends now. The time to get a gold star for effort has passed. It’s not good enough to look for him. You’re going to damn well find him. Use all the goddamn resources you need. I will find a way to get funding and support from legal, but you are the agents. You’ve got your eyes on the ground. It’s up to you to bring him in.”
That little speech had flashed me back over a decade, when I’d had my eyes on the ground. When I’d been the only one at the right time and place to capture a criminal, even if it had been my own father. Yes, I understood. Yes, I was on board, ready to catch him. Of course, as a junior agent, that would mostly involve getting coffee and making copies, but hey, that would be my contribution to bringing him down.
Then there are lies you tell other people. My father passed away. That was what I told people, even though he’d just turned fifty-two in a supermax prison. It was easier that way. Lies smoothed the way so we could go on pretending. They were the lube of life, and we all got a little messy in the process.
But the darkest lies were the ones you told yourself. They lurked in the shadows of your subconscious, undermining you and twisting your perceptions. They hid the answers in plain sight, right when you needed them most.
Spread out on my desk were piles of surveillance photos and notes taken over the past twelve months. I found it impossible to imagine that countless field workers and researchers had managed to miss his completely. Which meant this muddled collection of reports contained the information we needed. Hiding in plain sight.
Every image, from airport security cameras to public transportation cams to satellite imagery, showed a man with his head bent, facing down or away. As if he knew exactly where the cameras were, eluding us once again. The man looking the other direction, he could have been anyone. He probably was anyone, considering the pattern of times and locations didn’t add up. Carlos Laguardia wasn’t in a Chicago eatery known for mob connections one day, and then a Paris subway the next, and then a Florida University after that. We were grasping at straws—carefully planted straws designed to misdirect.
Only one image was different. A grainy black-and-white photograph showed a man standing still with people milling about him. Blurs brushing past a dangerous criminal. A monster. They’d run screaming if they knew all the things he’d done. I had chills just reading about it in this air-conditioned cubicle at the highly-secure FBI office.
Money laundering. Extortion. Murder. If there was a law against it, he’d done it. A wave of old pain washed over me. Men like that didn’t care who they hurt, whether it was the victims of their crimes or collateral damage.
I had been collateral damage once. Twelve years ago, I’d huddled under the coffee table when my father came home late, hands crusted with blood. I should have been grateful he hadn’t ever touched me, raped me, killed me. He did that to other little girls. And boys—he was an equal opportunity creep.
Until he finally made a mistake. A boy from my street had disappeared, and even at ten years old, I knew what it meant. I still remembered the heat of that August day and the cold bite of the chair beneath my legs. Static from the plastic seat zapped my skin while I waited in the police station. Horror and pity flickered over the policeman’s face as I told him my story. I learned an important lesson then: criminals always make a mistake. Always.
If I could figure out Laguardia’s mistake, I’d have him. If I could find the little man with blue pants and a red striped shirt in this real life Where’s Waldo, he’d be mine. Unfortunately, the heavy stack of papers on my desk wasn’t talking.
This was the only image where he looked at the camera, but the resolution was too low for facial recognition software. I got the impression of patrician features—a broad forehead, a strong nose. Dark, curly hair peeked from beneath a thick skullcap. A bulky jacket obscured what looked to be a large frame of a man. Tall, compared to the people walking around him. Well, we’d always known he’d be physically fit and capable of fighting. But beneath his brawn was a mastermind who had run a global organization and eluded hundreds of trained law enforcement officers.
Not for much longer, though. The director had held an all-hands meeting last week.
“Laguardia has made a mockery of this organization,” he’d said, and at the back of the room, I’d silently agreed.
“Our ideals,” he’d continued, practically frothing at the mouth. “Our effectiveness. Even our dignity. A single man has turned us into a joke. That ends now. The time to get a gold star for effort has passed. It’s not good enough to look for him. You’re going to damn well find him. Use all the goddamn resources you need. I will find a way to get funding and support from legal, but you are the agents. You’ve got your eyes on the ground. It’s up to you to bring him in.”
That little speech had flashed me back over a decade, when I’d had my eyes on the ground. When I’d been the only one at the right time and place to capture a criminal, even if it had been my own father. Yes, I understood. Yes, I was on board, ready to catch him. Of course, as a junior agent, that would mostly involve getting coffee and making copies, but hey, that would be my contribution to bringing him down.
My Book Review:
In Don't Let Go, the fourth book in the Dark Erotica series, author Skye Warren weaves a tantalizing and twisted dark tale that easily captivates the reader's attention.
Samantha Holmes is a junior FBI agent who is partnered with the renowned agent Ian Hennessy, they are assigned with the task of taking down one of the FBI's most wanted, the notorious mafia king pin and drug lord Carlos Laguardia. As Samantha and Ian embark on a dangerous journey to track down the elusively evil Carlos, their professional relationship grows into something more when their sexual attraction for each other leads to undeniable desire. When a carefully planned drug bust goes wrong, Samantha becomes Carlos' prey when he kidnaps her. During her captivity Samantha discovers dark hidden things about herself, and facing her past will ultimately change her forever.
Don't Let Go is a riveting dark erotic story that takes the reader on one hell of a thrilling and emotional roller coaster ride. Author Sky Warren weaves a complex, deep, and haunting tale that has a raw and gritty mixture of violence and moving tenderness. This wickedly gripping story takes the reader to the darkside and beyond with its suspenseful and unexpected twists and turns, and it doesn't release them from its clutches until the surprising end.
You can't help but get drawn into the intriguing intensity of Samantha, Ian and Carlos' story. From the violence to the dark romance, they are a complex set of characters, and their disturbing and twisted story will leave you emotionally spent. I loved the pace and suspense of the story, it flowed seamlessly and kept me engaged as the drama unfolded, any book that can do that is simply amazing.
While Don't Let Go can be a stand alone read, I would suggest that you read the Dark Erotica series in sequential order so that you can fully appreciate this breathtaking series.
RATING: 4 STARS ****
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Tour Schedule:
The World As I See It – Review and Excerpt
December 10
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We Love Kink – Promo and Excerpt
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Wicked Readings by Tawania – Promo and Excerpt
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Jersey Girl Sizzling Book Reviews – Review, Guest Post and Promo
Mommy’s a Book Whore – Review and Excerpt
It’s All About the Romance! – Promo and Excerpt
December 21
Books Unhinged Book Blog – Review
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Crystal’s Many Reviewers – Review
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Rose’s Book Blog – Review
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