Monday, February 1, 2021

BLOG TOUR: Star-Crossed Dragons by Chris Cannon

Welcome to the Official Book Tour for Award-winning Author Chris Cannon's Star-Crossed Dragons. Today, on our tour stop, we will kick off this tour with a guest post featuring: Chris Cannon's 10 Favorite Quotes from Star-Crossed Dragons. So... Be sure to check it out and grab your copy now!

Young Adult
Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Publish Date:
February 1, 2021

The Patriarchy is about to go down in flames.

Ice-princess, Sara Sinclair, is the most un-Blue Blue Dragon of her Clan. And now her parents signed a marriage contract to an absolute asshat. Sara has no interest in being one half of a snobby Blue power couple. In fact, all she can dream about is biting her obnoxious fiancĂ©’s head off and burying him in the garden. Since that can’t happen, her future seems like a lost cause, until she meets Ian, a fire-breathing Red Dragon—who is everything her fiancĂ© is not.

Now Sara’s jumped from the frying pan into the fire because dating outside of your Clan is against Directorate law. Ian could be thrown in jail or executed without a trial. But now that she knows what love feels like, she can’t imagine being with anyone else.

Talk about a rock and a hard place…


*10 Favorite Quotes from Star-Crossed Dragons*


“Present company excluded, most Blues are kind of snotty.”

“You’re not wrong.” She closed her book, set it on her lap, and leaned toward him. “My life would be much easier if I were like the rest of my Clan.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” Crap. He really needed to shut up.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Did you ever wish your life was different?”

“Different how?”

“Like these books.” She patted the one in her lap. “What would you do if you were free to do whatever you wanted?” 

The answer was obvious. He reached out and touched the lock of hair hanging down on the side of her face. She didn’t protest or move away. “I’m not sure I should answer that question.” 


Ferrin reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “If you recognize non-Blue behavior then you should be able to avoid it and thereby avoid doing anything that calls unwanted attention to yourself.” 

“Recognizing it and agreeing with it are two vastly different things.” How could he not see that? 

“Whether you agree with it or not is immaterial. I plan to be Speaker for the Directorate. You are going to be my wife, so your behavior will affect my career trajectory.” 

Shifting and biting his head off would be so easy. She could bury him here in the garden. He was so full of shit he’d probably make great fertilizer. 


“Meet me at the library after dinner,” he said. “Near our favorite books.” 

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Truly awful, terrible idea. She opened her mouth to say no, but instead she said, “Okay. Now go away.” 

He laughed and headed over to the weight lifting area. And she did not admire his broad shoulders that stretched his T-shirt to the limit. She didn’t. No. Not at all. 


She stared up at him with amazing blue eyes and reached for his hand. “We can’t do this.” 

He knew she was right, but what came out of his mouth was, “Why not?” 

“It’s wrong, and it’s dangerous.”
“It doesn’t feel wrong.”
“I know.” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Legally. It’s wrong.”
“I don’t care.” He leaned down to kiss her and hesitated right before his lips touched her time to tell him no or push him away, but she didn’t do either of those things. She closed the distance between their mouths, and the world fell away. He pulled her close and she smelled like snow, and raspberry shampoo, and happiness. 

When the kiss ended she leaned her head against his chest. “I’m serious. We can’t do this.” 

“Pretty sure we can,” he whispered, trying to make it a joke because he did not want this to end. 


He’d dreamed he’d entered the military and then Ferrin hired him as Sara’s personal guard. It should’ve been a dream setup, except she wasn’t his Sara anymore. She was Mrs. Westgate, a proper Blue who pretended she’d never kissed him, never snuck off with him, never cared about him. When he confronted her she appeared confused and then she sent a maid for something. The woman came back and handed him a black box that was leaking some dark viscous liquid. 

“What’s this?”
“Open it,” she said. “Open it and you’ll understand.” Fear hammered in his chest as he pried the lid off the box. A shriveled but still-beating, still-bleeding heart lay inside. 

“It was the only way,” she said. “I had to cut you out of my life so I could move on.” 


Ian grabbed a pair of gloves, laced them up, and took a few swings at the freestanding bag, but before he could get into a rhythm he noticed blond hair standing off to the someone was waiting for him. He stopped and turned to find the last person on the planet he wanted to see. 

“Ferrin, what do you want?” 

“You said if I ever wanted a workout, I should come find you.” 

“Seriously? No offense, dude. No. Wait. I do mean offense because, let’s face it, you’re obnoxious. I’m going to state a simple fact. I’ve been boxing for years and I outweigh you by forty pounds. And those pounds are all muscle.” He flexed to make a point. 

“Then teach me how to box,” Ferrin said. 

“Why in the hell would I do that?” Ian asked. “Why are you asking me? Did you lose a bet?” 

“You think you can beat me,” Ferrin said. “And that is unacceptable.” 

The temptation to hit Ferrin—for multiple reasons—was almost too strong to resist, but he knew when he was being baited. “So no one can be better than you at anything?” 

“I achieve everything I set out to do.” 

In another world he’d say, Really, ’cause I’m doing your girlfriend. But in this life he settled for, “You’re a narcissist or delusional or both.” 

“You do realize your opinion of me means nothing,” Ferrin said. “No. Wait. Less than nothing.” 

“What’s going on over here?” Coach Burns came toward them. 

“I asked Ian to teach me how to box.” 

“Color me skeptical,” Coach said, “but if you’re interested, you need to learn how to hit a bag first.” 

“That’s disappointing,” Ferrin said. “I wasn’t interested in hitting the bag.” 


Ferrin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a rectangular blue velvet jewelry box. “This is for you.” He held it out to her. 

Crap. I’ll have to pretend to love whatever he gives me. She took the box and popped the lid open. The most atrocious necklace she’d ever seen lay on blue silk. It was a diamond encrusted W hanging from a platinum chain, and it was hideous. 

“It’s custom-made,” Ferrin stated with pride. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Apparently wealth and good taste did not always go hand in hand. 


The waitress returned with their sodas and popcorn. She took one look at Ferrin and said, “Would you two like to sit at separate tables?” 

“No,” Sara said. “We’re fine. Thank you.” She opened the bag of caramel corn and held it toward Ferrin. “Care for some?” 


She ate her popcorn and drank her soda and did her best to make small talk. Ferrin kept his answers to one word, sometimes two. Their burgers arrived. When they were halfway through their lunch, she’d had enough. 

“Are you going to behave this way for the rest of the day?” 


“Would your father approve?” She wasn’t above playing dirty at this point. 

“My father would expect you to act like a Blue.”

“I am. Anyone who sees us sitting here thinks we’re having a polite conversation, because I’m being extremely careful with my tone of voice and my expression. That is a very Blue thing to do.” 

“It is, but your attitude is not.” 

She’d had enough. “You are not a child. When something upsets you, you’re supposed to talk it out and come to a mutual solution. You don’t pout like a toddler.” 


She left the gallery and went next door to a jewelry shop. Glass cases held jewels of all kinds. When the man behind the counter looked up and saw her, he smiled for a second and then he frowned. “Why are you wearing a diamond W?” 

“Because my life is a source of amusement for some higher power.” 


Ian sat at his kitchen table making the world’s ugliest Christmas cookies. 

“What is that supposed to be?” his mother asked. 

“It’s a snowman.” He’d smashed three balls of cookie dough together and now he was working on a hat. 

“We have cookie cutters.” His mom pointed at the bowl of metal cookie cutters she’d set on the table. 

“That’s the boring way to do it,” his dad said. 

“It’s almost like you two make ugly cookies on purpose,” his mom said. 

“Dad started it,” Ian said. “I’m carrying on the tradition.” 

His dad laughed. “Some people don’t appreciate art.”


**About the Author**
Chris Cannon is the award-winning author of the Going Down In Flames series, the Boyfriend Chronicles, the Dating Dilemma Series, and Demon Bound. She lives in Southern Illinois with her husband and various furry beasts. She believes coffee is the Elixir of Life. Most evenings after work, you can find her sucking down caffeine and writing fire-breathing paranormal adventures or snarky romantic comedies.

You can find Chris Cannon online at

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