Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Blog Tour ARC Review + Giveaway: Out of Plans by Stylo Fantome

Out of Plans
by Stylo Fantome

Find Marc
* Don’t find Marc
* Take down a Russian Bratva boss
* Don’t have sex with Kingsley
Find Marc
* Take down a Colombian drug lord
Don’t fall for Marc again
Kill every –
This is the story of what happens when best laid plans fail, and a vengeful woman is forced to find her own way once again. A bond broken, trust shattered, and too many lies to keep track of find Marc and Lily all out of plans and running out of time. Can they find their way back to each other before trouble finds them first, or is it really the end of their journey?

If this NOVEL were a MOVIEit would have an R rating from the MPAA. Contains: Violence, Grisly Images, Strong Language, Nudity, and Graphic Sexual Content.

US | UK | CA | AUS

Similar to its predecessor, Out of Plans is still as explosive and suspenseful. Theaction scenes were top notch and half the time I wonder am I reading a book written by a dude. The attention to details, the underlying sense of danger and the flow of the action are flawless

Now I would like to review each of the main characters.

Lily - the badass bitch
She seems like a raging bitch for half the book. I understand her resentment towardsMarc for abandoning her. But that didn't entitled her to be a bitch to him for so long. And how many times does the poor man need to explain himself. For fuck sake, I felt like she is in constant denial or on certain cracked for not understanding his good intention. 

Marc was a mercenary long before he knew her and now this woman want to be better than him by just training with Kingsley for six months? I don't care he is fucking Rambo incarnated, I just don't believe it. 

Don't even let me get started about the whole sorta triangle thing with Kingsley. And why does every man seems to worship the land she walked on? There is Marc who would actually die for her, then Kingsley who love her more than he value his friendship with Marc and then now we have a certain drug lord who would do anything to help her. 

Kingsley - the cool Brit in a suit
This man ticks all my checkboxes. If this is any other book, I will be all over him. He seems to be the most skillful, resourceful and deadly among the trio. He is even hiding some sordid secret that make me sympathize with him. But I can't shake the feeling that this is Marc and Lily's story, stop outshining the poor guy. I'm sure you will have your own story to tell later. 

Marc De Sant
Marcelle!! You need to step it up man. Kingsley is getting more fans than you as we're speaking. You are getting sloppy and you even let your woman walk all over you. I don't care that Lily turned into some kind of Angelina Jolie with a bazooka, you need to do something about it. I'm rooting for you here. 

Rant finish.

"We could've been fucking since Colombia. See What happens when you're a bitch? You miss out on good sex."

"Did you just call me a bitch?"
"Please. It's practically your middle name."

Well said, De Sant. Well said.

Lily moved through the crowd, which was getting louder and drunker with each passing moment. Most of the women were beyond dressed up. Lots of hair extensions and air brushed makeup, and all wearing gowns, though up close, most were sheer and had jewels strategically placed to hide certain body parts. Body parts that had clearly been enhanced by very good plastic surgeons.
Lily started with them, making “girl talk”, trying to find out what she could. Damiano was quite the sought after man, it seemed. Most of them had slept with him, at some point in time or another, and the ones who hadn't were still scheming to make it happen. But at that particular time, he was off limits.
“Why is that?” Lily asked one girl.
“Because, ever since she arrived, she's chased away all other women. She wants to be the only one in his bed.”
“Who's 'she'?” Lily continued.
“She,” the girl pointed across the room.
Lily followed with her eyes and saw a tiny blonde woman standing near the wall. She was tiny, in height and in weight. She wore all white, including her heels, and her blonde hair was Texas beauty queen big. More interesting than all of that, though, was that she seemed to be glaring at Lily. No wait, not glaring at her. Glaring past her. At something behind her. Someone behind Lily had earned the wrath of a very tiny, scary looking lady.
“Who is she?” Lily asked.
“I don't know, some Russian woman,” the girl replied.
Everything stopped for a moment. Russian. And as if the magic word had been spoken, another Russian came into the picture. As tall as the woman was short, as imposing as the woman was tiny, the man who joined her was her opposite, except that he was also blonde, and he also wore all white. Lily stopped breathing.
Of course, she'd seen pictures of Anatoly Stankovski. Knew that he was a big man, easily six foot three or taller. Knew he had a neatly trimmed mustache and blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Knew he was married.
But seeing him, being in his presence … it was so different from what she'd expected. She wasn't filled with rage. Not cold, clinical hatred. No, she was sad. Sad, as she looked at the man who had changed her life. The man who had killed her sister. The man who had ripped Marc away from her. The man who had changed her life; changed who she was, at her core.
Kingsley's law: Pull the motherfucking trigger.
Hearing his voice in her head, Lily shook herself back to reality. She had to act, and fast. She had a gun strapped to her thigh. Maybe she could lure him away. He was still with his wife, was looking down at her while they spoke. But the small woman wasn't looking at her husband. She was still looking over Lily's shoulder, and her glare was getting more severe.
“Pardon me,” a deep voice said from behind her, and Lily slowly turned around to face the host of the party. “We haven't been introduced.”
Lily automatically smiled, all her work and training kicking in as she placed her hand into Damiano's outstretched one. She wanted nothing more than to turn around and go shoot Stankovski, but she knew her chance would come again. She knew where he was, knew where he was staying. She couldn't ruin it all now just because she was excitable.
“Oh, I know who you are,” she teased, shaking his hand.
“Then you have the advantage,” he smiled as well, and it was becoming increasingly obvious why women were falling all over themselves for the dangerous drug lord.
“Mr. Ledo, you have an amazing home, thank you so much for this extravagant party,” she gushed, keeping her eyes wide as she blinked up at him.
“You are very welcome. Dance?”
She couldn't very well say no, but dancing with him was potentially a bad idea. He was a dangerous man. If he had any inkling of who she was, or why she was there, then it was a trap. But if he was just hitting on her, she didn't want to offend him. Maybe she could even use it against him. Use him to get close to Stankovski.
It was a slow song and he held her close, a strong leader moving her across the floor. She smiled and laughed, chatting and flirting with him, staring very boldy up into his eyes. He stared right back, his smile resembling the way a wolf looked before it was about to strike.
He was disgustingly handsome, she wouldn't deny it – she could now see why all the women had been gossiping about him. It just made his depravity worse, that something so beautiful could be so dangerous. He had big dark eyes, ringed in thick black lashes that had an effect like eyeliner, making his eyes look huge and pop out of his face. His skin was tan, and his black hair was wavy and mussed in a stylish way, the ends of it teasing the top of his collar. He had an almost lyrical accent that wrapped around his words and blanketed them, turning them into syrup. Sticky sweet and heavy. Almost any other woman would have been helpless under their weight.
“You're an incredible dancer,” she complimented him when the song came to an end. He didn't let her go, though. He kept an arm tight around her waist. Continued staring into her eyes.
“I had a wonderful partner. You know, the more I look at you, the more familiar you seem,” he commented.
Uh oh! Warning! Warning! Do something!
“Hmmm, do I?” she purred, pressing herself against him. “Maybe from one of your dreams?”
“If I dreamed about someone like you, I wouldn't get out of bed,” he assured her. She laughed low in her throat, a husky, breathy sound.
“Mmmm, if you dreamed about me, then I wouldn't get out of your bed, either,” she teased. He narrowed his eyes.
“I think you're going to be bad for my health,” he teased back.
“Sweetheart,” she chuckled, getting so close she could feel his breath against her lips, “you have no idea.”
“I would love to stand here all night with you, but unfortunately, I have other guests. One of whom is glaring poison darts at me,” he sighed, flicking his head to the side. She followed the motion and saw that Mrs. Stankovski was alone again. She was staring at them and looked like she was getting ready to kill Lily.
“Pity. I didn't plan on standing here all night,” she sighed, moving so her back was to the angry woman.
“Oh, really? You had something else in mind?” he questioned her.
“I had lots of things in mind. Tell you what,” she whispered, moving to stand on her toes. Even in heels, Damiano was still taller than her. “Forget the blonde. One night with me, and you won't even remember her name.”
Won't remember anything, because you'll be dead.
“That sounds incredibly tempting,” he whispered back, and his hands moved to grasp her by her hips. “It's an offer I'm sure I'll take you up on one day. But sadly, not tonight. I have things I need to tend to. But I promise, I'll be seeing you again.”
“Well then. Thanks for the dance, Mr. Ledo,” she breathed, then kissed him roughly on the side of his jaw. When she pulled back, her red lipstick left a stain behind. He chuckled and stepped away from her.
“You are more than welcome.”
As he walked off into the crowd, she watched as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped away the lipstick stain as he joined Mrs. Stankovski, who seemed to immediately launch a verbal attack on him. Hmmm. Interesting. Apparently, Damiano wasn't only interested in what Stankovski had to offer in a monetary or politcal sphere.
Stankovski himself was nowhere to be seen. Slipped away without a trace. From questioning people, Lily knew he was staying in the home. She had to get upstairs somehow. Had to search the rooms. Had to find him.
Have to move your ass!
She spun around and promptly rammed into a man who had come up behind her. She stumbled backwards and felt a pair of hands grip her arms. As she steadied herself, she heard him gasp sharply, then he cleared his throat. She began to lift her eyes to see who she had almost knocked over.
“I thought I recognized you.”
For the second time that night, Lily completely froze. She was staring into a pair of blue eyes. A pair of eyes that she had banished to the farthest part of her memory. A face that had no right to interrupt her evening. No right to disrupt the beat of her heart.
“Sweetheart,” Marcelle De Sant sighed as he looked down at her. “What on earth have you done to your hair?”

Crazy woman living in an undisclosed location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since ..., forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball - I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I'm clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.

Stylo Fantome's OUT OF PLANS Release Week Event Giveaway