Thursday, August 6, 2015

Dirty Promises (Dirty Angels #3) by Karina Halle: Cover Reveal & Excerpt


Blurb:

Blood. Sex. Revenge.
It ain't easy being king.
Drug lord Javier Bernal has sliced and diced his way to the top of the Mexican drug trade, presiding over the country's largest cartel. But his rise to power comes at a brutal price: the death of his sister, Alana. Devastated and wracked with guilt, he turns away from his new wife, Luisa, forcing their marriage into a steady decline. But it isn't until she's pushed into the waiting arms of Esteban Mendoza, his right-hand man, that Javier realizes everything he's lost.
And it isn't until he learns the truth about Alana, that he realizes everything there is to gain.
Blood will spill.
Cities will burn.
Heads will roll.
Because Javier will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
And what he wants is raw, ruthless revenge.
The most dangerous man is the one with nothing left to lose.

Releases: September 15, 2015


 


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About the Author:

Karina is represented by Scott Waxman of the Waxman Leavell Literary Agency

**I love to read when I have a chance. I love making new friends, too. But PLEASE don't add me if you're an author just wanting me to read your book and promote yourself shamelessly. You should have more of a reason for friending me than THAT. Also, please don't recommend me books, I have enough on my TBR and not enough time to read. And I'm a super picky reader. Cheers!**

The daughter of a Norwegian Viking and a Finnish Moomin, Karina Halle grew up in Vancouver, Canada with trolls and eternal darkness on the brain. This soon turned into a love of all things that go bump in the night and a rather sadistic appreciation for freaking people out. Like many of the flawed characters she writes, Karina never knew where to find herself and has dabbled in acting, make-up artistry, film production, screenwriting, photography, travel writing and music journalism. She eventually found herself in the pages of the very novels she wrote (if only she had looked there to begin with).

Karina holds a screenwriting degree from Vancouver Film School and a Bachelor of Journalism from TRU. Her travel writing, music reviews/interviews and photography have appeared in publications such as Consequence of Sound, Mxdwn and GoNomad Travel Guides. She currently lives on an island on the coast of British Columbia where she's preparing for the zombie apocalypse.

***disclaimer***

When I'm not writing, I'm reading. And when I'm not reading I might be writing up a review. I'm wary of books with a lot of hype but unless something has bad reviews across the board, I'll probably still take a chance on it and give my honest opinion. Everyone is different and I won't pass up an adventure just because someone else didn't like it. And that's what I think when I look at my bookshelf...what adventure can I go on today?

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Excerpt:

All my life, I thought I could operate under my own code of morals and ideals. It was no different than most, I supposed. The cop who has to shoot someone in self-defense. The soldiers that go to war and raid villages in the name of freedom. Everyone makes excuses for what they do, because they believe in it. Because they believe they are in the right.

I had always thought of myself as a somewhat civilized, almost classy, narco. I at least wanted to bring purpose and grace to what I did. I didn’t believe in killing mercilessly. I believed in mercy, in forgiveness, in giving people second chances. I believed in letting people go after I got what I wanted from them.

I believed that to snitch was an outrage, that even though we were dealing and fighting and killing to be in a billion dollar industry. I believed that religious celebrations were to be respected. I believed that family came first. I believed that women and children would not be harmed.

For a moment, I thought that perhaps I had lost my mind. Never mind the needless, senseless deaths that were already at my hands over the last few months. Never mind that I had broken promises to others, to myself. Dirty, filthy promises. It was then and only then that I knew I had lost who I was. That every moral fibre that I based myself on was threadbare and I was close, oh so close, to losing all sense of myself forever.

It scared me. I watched Luisa leave the room and though I was reeling from her own words, the callous ones that reached deep inside me and left a scar, I knew I might have damaged her beyond repair. I could heal myself in time, but could she? Would we?

I didn’t think so.

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