I am thrilled to be hosting a spot
on the DAWN TO DUSK by Ellis K. Popa Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my
post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About The Book:
Author: Ellis K. Popa
Pub. Date: November 26, 2024
Publisher: And Fire Books
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 431
Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/DAWN-TO-DUSK-POPA
She thought they'd never find her.
She was wrong.
Kat and Maksim have been hiding in a
sleepy Mediterranean town. It’s paradise, heaven on earth... So then why is
Maksim eager to send Kat home? And why has he been acting strange since making
contact with a certain hacker?
Kat is determined to find out, but when a misstep in her “investigation”
infuriates the hacker and her crew, the fallout puts Kat and Maksim on a
collision course with the crime syndicate that’s been hunting them down. With
nowhere else to turn, they seek asylum in Paris with an old friend of Maksim’s,
hoping for a place to lie low. Things seem calm, hopeful... until a
heartwrenching betrayal by Maksim comes to light.
As the evidence piles up, Kat is forced to rely on the kindness of his old
friend, a Frenchman who’s there to help pick up the pieces of her broken heart.
But not everything is what it seems in the City of Light, and Maksim isn’t the
only one keeping secrets. Kat’s intuition, her instinct, even her vivid,
foreboding dreams are no match for this game of cat and mouse.
The chess pieces are in place. The crime syndicate is closing in. Will Kat wake
up to the truth before it's too late?
Dawn to Dusk is the thrilling continuation of The Awaken Saga, a YA crossover
series that begins with a cryptic scavenger hunt and transitions into an
action-packed thriller. Perfect for fans of The Bourne Identity, Angels
& Demons, and Holly Jackson novels like The Reappearance
of Rachel Price and Five Survive.
"Ellis K. Popa (delivers) an
amazing story full of mystery, intrigue and romance." - John Benedict, Bestselling Author of Adrenaline ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"A gripping and unforgettable read that heralds Popa as a rising star
in the genre..." - Elicia Meairs, Netgalley ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Get ready for an exhilarating ride that will keep you guessing until the
final, breathtaking conclusion. Perfect for fans of puzzle mysteries like Inheritance
Games and Da Vinci Code and clever crime fiction like
'Sherlock', The Reappearance of Rachel Price, and A
Good Girl's Guide to Murder.
Awards & Recognition for Awaken the Dawn: The Awaken Saga, Book
1...
Cascade Awards - 1st Place
Blue Seal Awards- 1st Place
The Selfie Awards UK (London Book Fair) - Shortlist: Top 8
The Wishing Shelf Awards UK - Finalist
Page Turner Awards UK - Finalist
Killer Nashville Readers' Choice Awards - Finalist: Top 6 (All Genres)
Claymore Awards - Finalist: Top 6
Silver Falchion - Top Pick
Writers' League of Texas - Finalist
Badge of Honor - 1st Place (Fiction) / Runner Up (All Genres)
Write to Publish - 2nd Place
Serious Writer's Writer of the Year - Semifinalist
Worldwide praise for Awaken the Dawn...
"Go ahead, go add this to your TBR!"- Books with Cats
(Europe) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"This book blew me away. It was thrilling." - Mark M.,
Goodreads (US) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"This is an absolutely delicious book. I both devoured it in one day,
and savoured every word!" - Charlotte, Blue Fairy Bugs Books
(UK) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"The book was absolutely amazing and I couldn’t get enough of it. I
can't wait to see what happens next." - Scarlet Le Clair,
Horror & Romance Author, Editor + Netgalley Reviewer (UK) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Grab book 1, AWAKEN THE DAWN now!
Book Trailer:
Excerpt:
Rule 1: Be aware.
Rule 2: Be discreet.
Rule 3: Think logically.
Rule 4: Listen to your instinct.
Rule 5: Always be ready.
Rule 6: Avoid unwanted attention.
Rule 7: Assume you’re being tailed.
Rule 8: Note every possible exit.
Rule 9: Assess every possible threat.
Rule 10: Never, ever reach the second location.
Prologue
“You are certain you
do not need medical assistance?” Mr. Amsel set a glass of water on his desk and
settled into his plush chair. “I am able to call an ambulance,” he said,
situating his spectacles.
“No, no. Just… give me a moment.” I reached for the water. Pain pinched at
my shoulder blade—same spot where I’d been hit by shrapnel—and my hand trembled
as I lifted the glass.
This injury wasn’t the only reason I felt weak. After talking and verifying
and signing paperwork, Mr. Amsel—the bank president—had finally disclosed how
much money I’d inherited.
And I had nearly fainted.
“It is such a pleasure to have you as a friend of this institution,
Fräulein Barrett.” His mouth stretched wide, revealing sparkly white teeth. I
could practically see euro signs glittering in the smile. “You can take your
business anywhere. We here at Kopernikus-Bank understand this, and we thank you
for entrusting us with your sizable assets.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached for the water again but thought better of it. “And when
will the funds be available?”
“We are able to release twenty thousand euros today.” He swiped several pieces
of paper from a sleek printer. “After you have signed these forms, I will issue
your girocard—debit card—and those funds will be available immediately.” He
hesitated. “Unless this amount is insufficient for you, Fräulein?”
I gave a swift shake of my head. Maybe too swift.
Maksim had warned me that my funds wouldn’t be accessible all at once.
There were processes, checks, transfers that had to happen. “The employees may
appear relaxed,” he’d said, “as if this is an everyday type of transaction. I
can assure you it’s not. Don’t do anything that may prompt them to call the
police.”
“What would make them do that?”
“Appearing frazzled, rushed. Not playing the part. You’re the granddaughter
of a billionaire. You’ll have to act like it.”
I peeked down at my black slacks and dressy blouse. I never wore stuff like
this, and the frumpy heels rubbing blisters on my feet reminded me why. But at
least I looked the part.
I signed the papers and returned them to Mr. Amsel.
“Thank you, Fräulein.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a
business card. “Please do contact me should you have any questions.”
“That’s awe— I mean, thank you very much.” I’d been about to say “that’s
awesome” but decided on something more proper. Billionaires said “thank you
very much,” didn’t they? I’d have to check next time I googled things rich
people say.
I tucked the business card in my purse and showed myself out of the office.
My heels thumped as I followed the staircase down to the foyer. The building
opened up, and sunlight poured inside through the vaulted glass ceiling.
A receptionist manned the front desk, taking calls and typing on her
keyboard. She peered around her computer and smiled. “Goodbye. Be careful.” She
didn’t sound German. Actually, she sounded… French?
I offered a halfhearted wave. “Thanks. You, too.”
“But you should be very careful.”
My feet stalled. I turned away from the revolving door and stared at the
woman. “S-sorry. Did you say very careful?”
She focused on her screen, seemingly unaware that her words had affected
me.
Probably a translation issue. That was possible. She could have meant something different.
“Fräulein Barrett!”
I wheeled around. Mr. Amsel was hurrying down the staircase. “Fräulein,” he
called. “You forgot your girocard.”
“Mr. Amsel.” I placed a hand to my chest, heart thumping full speed. “You
startled me.”
“Forgive me, Fräulein.” He stepped off the staircase and crossed the foyer.
His dress shoes clacked over the sleek tiles. His tie glistened in the
sunlight.
He closed the gap and held the card toward me. I reached for it, planning
to put it in my purse—but I couldn’t pry the card out of his grasp.
I tugged again. He wouldn’t let go.
“Mr. Amsel?”
“Be careful, Fräulein.” His bright mood turned stone-cold sober. “There is
danger.”
My attention snapped to the receptionist. She was working away, her fingers
clicking across the keyboard. That was the only sound. There were no other
customers or employees in the lobby.
“Did you need something from Lilian?”
I focused on Mr. Amsel.
“She is our Empfangsdame. Receptionist.” His smile returned, and he
released the debit card. “Do you need something from her, Fräulein?”
“N-no.”
“Then… is there anything else I may do for you?”
“I’m good.” I think. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, Fräulein. Goodbye.” He waved as I turned away.
What in the actual hell?
The revolving door was big, wide, and I didn’t recall it being so heavy. I
grunted, pushing.
The enclosed space opened up, and I finally reached the sidewalk. Glass
towers climbed into the sky. Exhaust fumes blended with the stench of hot
pavement. The hum of motors created a backdrop of white noise.
I trekked up the sidewalk, heading for a nearby café—aka the meetup spot.
Something brought me to a dead stop. I glanced around.
Dusty purple twilight settled on the city, but… there was no way it
could’ve been this late. Could it? Had I been in the bank all day?
I pulled out my phone, planning to check the time. The screen stayed black.
Crap. The phone was dead.
I stuffed the device in my purse and hurried up the sidewalk. Maksim had
been teaching me his rules of survival, and I tried to think of the one that’d
be best for navigating this situation.
I couldn’t, and a burst of panic fluttered.
“You’re fine,” I told myself. “You don’t need a rule. Just get to the
café.”
That was probably true, but as I continued up the sidewalk, I realized just
how dark my surroundings had grown. My attention trailed up the nearest
skyscraper. Not a single speck of light glowed, and the top of the building
disappeared into thick shadows.
The same was true for the building next door. And the buildings across the
street. My only source of light was a lamppost that cast dim yellow over the
sidewalk.
But… what about the cars in the traffic jam? Shouldn’t they have their
headlights on?
They should have—in theory—but the traffic jam had vanished. Silence
crashed into me. A shiver dragged up my spine. Something was very, very wrong.
“Bonsoir.”
The familiar voice slid into my ears and twisted through my psyche. Oh,
no. No. Please.
“Did you miss me, ma petite belle?” A pause. A chuckle. “I
think you did.”
The urge to scream swelled.
Émilien stood beneath a lamppost, directly across the street, and he was
smirking. Light glinted off something in his hand.
Cuffs.
“No,” I whimpered, taking a measured step back. “Stay away from me.”
“Au contraire, ma chérie. You”—he held up the cuffs—“are mine.”
I whipped around, legs exploding in a sprint. Warm air rushed over my face.
Flat pavement stretched beneath my feet.
I staggered, despite the smooth sidewalk, and nearly face-planted. Stupid
heels. Why the hell had I worn these?
The bank building appeared on my right. I ran that way.
“Help!” My hands slammed against the revolving door. I pushed, expecting it
to move.
It didn’t.
“Mr. Amsel?” I pressed my face to the glass. Shadows encased the foyer. Mr.
Amsel and the receptionist were nowhere to be seen.
I banged on the glass, screaming, begging someone to let me in. There was
no movement inside the foyer. And no matter how hard I pushed, the door
wouldn’t budge.
Émilien tore across the street, head down, arms pumping. His face morphed
into something vicious, animalistic.
I abandoned the bank building.
“Help! Someone help me!” My legs carried me up the sidewalk. I was heading
in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. Away from the café.
“Maksim!” Tears blurred my vision. “Maksim, I need help!” My cries were
frantic yet strangely hopeful, as if my voice might reach all the way to the
meetup spot.
That hope fizzled the farther I ran. Still, I screamed for him. “Maksim! Maksim!”
My feet thrashed, longing to go faster, when a dark chuckle penetrated my
senses. Émilien didn’t sound like he was struggling or out of breath. Actually,
he sounded like he was pacing me.
Because he was. He’d caught up easily, and now he was hanging back. Why?
He’s enjoying this.
The epiphany rocked me. He wasn’t chasing me to catch me. He wanted to mess
with me first—a predator toying with its prey.
A circle and slash glowed red at the next crosswalk. Don’t cross. That
was the message, but there were no cars coming.
I barreled across the street.
A blast shuddered the air, and gray pavement erupted. I screamed and dove,
rolling. Chunks of cement rained down.
I jumped up and kept going.
The ground rumbled. Cement exploded. I covered my head, running. Still
running.
The explosions continued as Émilien closed the gap. His fingers brushed my
neck before clamping down.
I stumbled and hit the ground. My arm and shoulder scraped. My body rolled.
I skidded over a bump in the pavement, and a burst of light flared. An
explosion barreled into me. My back slammed against something, and pain seared
every part of my body…
****
I sucked in a breath and shot upright. Stale heat greeted me. My heart
thudded as I took in my surroundings.
Silky sheets in bright, blazing white tangled my legs. Wooden posts
stretched up from the bed, connecting to metal rods, and sheer curtains fell in
long, flowing panels.
Relief swelled. I was at the rental house.
The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, creating a natural
nightlight in the otherwise dark room. “Maksim?”
There was no answer, and my panic ticked up. This was what happened in the
dream. I’d been alone, and Émilien had been waiting for me.
But Émilien didn’t know we were here. Maksim had taken precautions to
ensure that.
I untangled my legs and drew the bed-curtains aside. Metal scraped metal as
the rings slid across the rod.
I padded to a leather chair and reached for my robe. “Maksim?” I donned the
lump of velour. The supersoft material slid over my arms and rested against my
tank top and shorts.
I gathered my hair, pulling it from beneath the collar, and crossed the
room. I reached for the door and hesitated. What if something happened to
Maksim?
“You’re being ridiculous.” The words escaped as a shaky whisper. Clearly, I
didn’t believe myself.
I cracked open the door and poked my head outside. Shadows greeted me, and
the flow of running water reached my ears.
I exhaled a laugh. Maksim was in the bathroom.
“Scaredy-cat,” I muttered at myself.
I padded down the hall and stopped in front of the bathroom door. Light
leaked under the bottom. “Hello?” A quick double-knock. “Maksim?”
The water stopped, and the door eased open. I peered inside.
Maksim stood at the sink, shirtless, a razor in his hand and slivers of
shaving cream on his face. His jeans hung loose, revealing carved abs and
V-shaped hip lines.
My attention moved to the scars from his motorcycle accident. They covered
the right side of his body—arm, shoulder, back, even down to his hip and leg.
The scar tissue looked dull under the bathroom lights, his skin pale and
crinkly.
I gravitated to him. He tensed at my touch, my fingers gliding along the
tough, uneven skin.
“Something’s wrong.” He cast a questioning glance over his shoulder.
I slid my hands around his lean waist, hugging him. “Bad dream. Just making
sure it’s you in here and not—”
When I didn’t go on, he said, “Not someone from your dream?”
I peered out from behind him. My blue eyes and puffy black hair appeared in
the mirror. I nodded.
He lowered the razor. “Who was it?”
I gripped my robe, pulling it tighter, and averted my eyes. “Émilien,” I
whispered. “You think he’s still in jail? What if Vladimir got him out?”
Maksim stripped a hand towel from the sink and wiped his face. Bits of
cream remained, but his skin was otherwise clean.
He tossed the towel and wrapped me in a hug. My emotions swelled as he
rubbed a gentle hand over my back, steering clear of my shoulder blade. The
bruises had yellowed, and the stitches were gone. Still, the six-week-old
injury was tender.
“Do you remember what I said before we came here?” Maksim’s deep voice
reverberated against my cheek. “The promise I made to you?”
I peeked up at him. “That you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“That’s right.” He cupped my face, drawing my focus to his eyes. The
fluorescents highlighted the many shades of brown—from gold to dark
chocolate—layered into his irises. “Have you been following the guidelines I’ve
laid out?”
I nodded.
“No hints to Brandy about where you are? No pictures or audio?”
“None.”
“And you’ve been using the double VPN I set up?”
I nodded again. “Every time I email her or go online.”
“What about spending?” He tucked a frizzy curl behind my ear. “You’re using
cash only? Not the debit card you received from the bank?”
“Only the cash you’ve given me. I haven’t touched the card since Germany.”
That was a month ago.
“Then it was only a bad dream, and we have nothing to worry about.” His
eyes twinkled. “Kat, nobody knows you’re here.”
I exhaled my worry. “You’re right. Nobody knows—” I hesitated. Nobody knew
I was here. That was by design, of course, but I had never said it out loud.
Something about it sounded… wrong.
“Nobody knows you’re here.” Maksim sang the words, the hard edge of his
Balkan accent smoothing into a silky blade. His hands moved to my waist, and I
found myself walking backward. “Isn’t that convenient?”
I stared at him. His features, so familiar to me, suddenly looked
different. His eyes held a new glint I hadn’t seen before.
A sinister glint.
The bathroom lights flickered—once, twice. Each time, his irises flashed a
whole different color, going from brown to…
“No,” I whispered.
Flick, flicker. Flick-flick.
The lights kept struggling as Maksim backed me against the wall. Everything
about him shifted—his height, build, hair.
I grabbed his arm, expecting scar tissue. There was none, and fear choked
me.
I lunged for the door. He caught my robe and hauled me back. “Oh que
non, ma chérie.” He sang the words, and they weren’t Romanian.
They were French.
I threw a punch. He caught my fist and laughed. The lights kept flickering,
kept threatening to dump me in darkness, and panic tore through me.
He’s not real, my darling. Dad’s voice coaxed me from somewhere in the depths. This isn’t real.
“This isn’t real,” I repeated. “Y-you’re not real.”
“But I am.” Émilien—not Maksim—leaned in until the tips of our noses
touched. He redoubled his grip, fingers wrapped around my wrists, and pressed
his full weight, jamming my bad shoulder against the wall.
I whimpered.
The bathroom lights flashed, casting a sheen over Émilien’s raven hair. His
silver eyes burned with more than desire or lust.
They burned with vengeance.
“I will find you”—he placed his mouth by my ear—“and you will be
mine.”
About Ellis K. Popa:
When Ellis
isn't moonlighting as a coffee aficionada, you might find her adventuring
through Transylvania, doing photoshoots in Old Town Bucharest, or otherwise
trying to talk her husband into moving to Eastern Europe. She's a lover of
history with a penchant for World War II and the Cold War, and her favorite
places in the world are Wallachia in beautiful Romania and the Dalmatian Coast
of Croatia. She's also an award-winning writer and budget-minded travel expert.
Sign up for Ellis’s
newsletter!
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Giveaway Details:
1 winner
will receive a Limited Edition Hardcover of AWAKEN THE DAWN, US Only.
Ends January 28th midnight EST.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
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1/13/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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1/13/2025 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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1/14/2025 |
IG Post |
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1/14/2025 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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1/15/2025 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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1/15/2025 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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1/16/2025 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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1/16/2025 |
IG Review/LFL Drop Pic/TikTok Post |
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1/17/2025 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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1/17/2025 |
Review |
Week Two:
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1/20/2025 |
Review |
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1/20/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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1/21/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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1/21/2025 |
IG Review |
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1/22/2025 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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1/22/2025 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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1/23/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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1/23/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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1/24/2025 |
IG Review/TikTok Post |
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1/24/2025 |
Review/IG Post |
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