Blog tour: Moonlight Scandals by Jennifer L. Armentrout (review and excerpt)

Wow. These books were a real ride from beginning to end. They're so addicting, especially the last one. Moonlight Scandals was one of my most anticipated reads of this year and, even though I had the chance to read it last month, I still reread it five more times before making this review. 
In my opinion, de Vincent trilogy is one Jennifer's best work. 
The romance, the mistery and all the paranormal vibes this book gave me are something I won't forget any time soon.
I love Rosie, I loved her since Moonlight Seduction, but here we were able to see a side of her I was very intrigued by. She made laugh out loud so many times too! 
I admit I was super excited to meet Devlin, since in previous books they painted him as to being very serious and protective of his privacy, specially when it came to his family and engagement. 
I was very pleased and happy to see this side of him nobody knew, and the fact that he tried to show his true self to Rosie, because he started caring for her, it was amazing to see. 
I think I said this before somewhere, but I fell on my butt more than once when I read the few plot twists the story has! 
I was blown away and I'm sad it's over, but hey, you can always reread the books!

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Excerpt

Rosie needed to get going. She’d promised to help her friend Nikki move today, so it was time to head back to her apartment, get changed, and be a good friend for the day. She leaned— A soft, swift curse jerked her head up. Normally, she didn’t hear a ton of cursing in a cemetery. Usually things were quite quiet. A faint grin tugged at her lips. Cursing and cemeteries typically did not go hand in hand. She scanned the narrow path to her right and didn’t see anything. Leaning back, she looked to her left and found the source. A man knelt on one knee with his back to her as he picked up flowers that had fallen into a puddle left by the recent rainstorm. Even from where she sat, she could see that whatever delicate bouquet he’d carried was ruined. Placing a hand over her eyes, she squinted in the sunlight as she watched the man rise. He was dressed as if he’d come straight from work. Dark trousers paired with a fitted white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing tan forearms. It was late September and New Orleans was still circling the seventh level of hot, currently as humid as Satan’s balls in the afternoon, so she figured if she was close to dying in her black dress, he had to be minutes away from stripping off the shirt. Still standing with his back to her, he stared down at the ruined flowers. His shoulders were tense as he turned in the other direction. His pace was brisk as he took the flowers over to an old oak tree festooned with Spanish moss. There was a small trash can there, one of the very few in the entire cemetery. He tossed the flowers and then pivoted, quickly disappearing down one of the numerous lanes. Oh man, that sucked. Feeling for the guy, she sprang into action. Carefully, she pulled half of the stems free and then leaned forward, placing the remaining in the vase in front of her Herpin tomb. She picked up her keys and as she rose, she slid her purple- framed sunglasses on. Hurrying down the worn path with patchy grass, she turned down the lane she’d seen the guy go down. Luck was on her side, because she saw him near the pyramid tomb. He hung a right there, and feeling a wee bit like a stalker, she trailed behind him. Of course, she could yell out to him and just hand him the other half of the peonies, but shouting at a stranger in a cemetery just seemed wrong. Shouting in a cemetery at all felt like something her mother would side- eye her over. And no one side- eyed quite like her mother. The man made another turn and then stepped out of her line of sight. Holding on to the flowers, she walked passed a tomb with a large cross and then her steps slowed. She found him. He was standing before a massive mausoleum, one guarded by two beautifully erected weeping angels, and he was just standing there, as still as those angels, his arms stiff at his sides and his hands closed. She took a step for- ward as her gaze drifted to the name on the mausoleum. de Vincent. Her eyes widened and she blurted out, “Holy baby llama.” The man twisted at the waist, and Rosie was suddenly standing within mere feet of the Devil. . That was what the gossip magazines called him. That was what most of her family called him. Rosie liked to refer to him as in her wildest dreams.

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Thanks for reading!