Praying for Rain by B.B. Easton Blog Tour & Book Review

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“BB Easton is a masterful storyteller at her very best with Praying for Rain. It’s easily in the top five books I’ve EVER read. Unique, sexy, and wonderfully written, Praying for Rain is a story I’ll remember always and reread often.” — T.M. Frazier, USA Today bestselling author

Praying for Rain, an all-new powerful and emotional love story from BB Easton, is available now!

Praying for Rain ebook cover

With only three days left until the predicted apocalypse, the small town of Franklin Springs, Georgia, has become a wasteland of abandoned cars, abandoned homes, abandoned businesses, and abandoned people. People like Rainbow Williams.

Rain isn’t afraid of dying. In fact, she’s looking forward to it. If she can just outrun her pain until April 23, she’ll never have to feel it at all.

Wes Parker has survived every horrible thing this life has thrown at him with nothing more than his resourcefulness and disarming good looks. Why should the end of the world be any different? All he needs are some basic supplies, shelter, and a sucker willing to help him out, which is exactly what he finds when he returns to his hometown of Franklin Springs.

As society crumbles, dangers mount, and secrets refuse to stay buried, two lost souls are thrust together in a twist of fate—one who will do anything to survive and one who can’t wait to die.

Perhaps, together, they can learn how to live.

Before their time runs out.


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Just like in my nightmare, her touch is all it takes for me to lose complete control—of the situation, of my willpower, of my own damn body. Instead of giving her a swat on the ass and sending her home like I know I should, I watch like a prisoner in my own mind as my arms wrap around her tiny shoulders and pull her in closer.

No! What the fuck are you doing, pussy? Cut her loose!

I scream at myself, call myself every name in the book, but the voice in my head is drowned out by the euphoric rush I get from holding this girl. She coils my shirt in both fists. Burrows her face into my neck. Her breath comes in short, hot bursts as she giggles against my skin. Her nose is cold. And all I can do is watch in humiliation as the meat puppet I live inside of tips its face down and smells her fucking hair.

Oh my God, you’re pathetic.

Sugar cookies. She laughs like a farm animal. She looks like a discarded porcelain doll that raided a teenage boy’s closet. And she smells like fucking sugar cookies.

Let her go, dipshit! Supplies! Shelter!

Self-defense! That’s what you need!

But the warning falls on deaf ears because now my stupid fucking cock has gone rogue, too. Why not? Nothing else is listening to me. It springs to life and rams itself into my zipper, seeking Rain’s attention as well. I take a small step back, just enough to keep from shoving my hard-on into her belly like a full-fledged creep, but she responds to my step back with one of her own.

And that’s it.

The moment is over.

The laughter is gone.

We drop our arms, and we begin walking.

About BB Easton


BB Easton lives in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, with her long-suffering husband, Ken, and two adorable children. She recently quit her job as a school psychologist to write books about her punk rock past and deviant sexual history full-time. Ken is suuuper excited about that.

Praying for Rain is BB’s first full-length work of fiction. The idea, fittingly, came to her in a dream.

If that sounds like the kind of person you want to go around being friends with, then by all means, feel free to drop her a line. You can find her procrastinating at all of the following places:








Stay up to date with BB by joining her mailing list:


[I received a digital arc for an honest review]

Life sucks, and we’re all gonna die.

Praying for Rain is the start to a brand-new trilogy from author B.B. Easton. An apocalyptic romance packed full of emotion. There’s angst, combustible passion, grief, nerve wrecking situations, and more.

It’s three days until the apocalypse and the world has gone to sh*t. Rain is counting down the days and anticipating the moment when she will no longer need pills to numb her memories and emotions. She’s ready for life to be over with until she’s kidnapped by a stranger who gives her reason to keep on surviving. Wes has survived on his own long before the acknowledgment of the upcoming doomsday. He has three simple needs, supplies, shelter and self defense. It isn’t till he is stuck with the slightly accident-prone Rain that he discovers what hope feels like. Three days is all it takes to change them both but does it matter if times running out.

I’ve finally found what I’ve been missing my whole life, and if I keep it, it will kill me.

The thing I loved most about Praying for Rain was the way it unfolded. I pictured it as one of my favorite post apocalyptic video games. With the great world building I could picture myself walking down the trashed streets and run down neighborhoods right alongside Wes and Rain. This book also puts you through the emotional spectrum. With scenes that will spike your anxiety and others that will break your heart. I felt the dreams sequences were pivotal in really helping you feel what the characters were feeling, and heightened the emotions. Of course the best scenes involved the growing sexual tension between Wes and Rain. It was definitely hate to love feelings on Wes’ side, and he fights with himself on his feeling for Rain. Together though the sexual chemistry is explosive and raw.

Rain presses up onto her toes at the same moment that I dive for her parted lips, and our mouths collide like the train wreck that we are.

I devoured Praying for Rain in one sitting, once I started I just couldn’t put it down! This is my first B.B. Easton novel and it won’t be my last. I can’t wait for the next release in the series because the ending of Praying for Rain will leave you surprised and anxious for what’s to come.

Without him, my hours are numbered. Without him, I don’t want the ones I have left.


If the horsemen want her, they’re going to have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands.


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