Category / Forbidden Love

Falling in love between hero and heroine considered forbidden within society or in the hero or heroine’s perspective.
Eg: During the colonial times, love between an aristocrat and an ex-convict was considered forbidden.

by mvbookreviewer

Review: To Taste Temptation by Elizabeth Hoyt

Format: E-booktotastetemptation
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Legend of the Four Soldiers, #1
Publisher: Forever
Hero: Samuel Hartley
Heroine: Emeline Gordon
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: May 1, 2008
Started On: July 23, 2016
Finished On: August 15, 2016

Though the cover on this book leaves much to be desired, the first book in the Legend of the Four Soldiers is one that delivers on all fronts. After a failed attempt at picking up a historical romance from another author, I just couldn’t wait to erase that memory from my mind, which had me returning to Hoyt, an author that has never failed me up till this point. A tall order, I know. She might even have replaced classical favorites like Judith McNaught and Julie Garwood themselves, all because of the way Hoyt crafts her stories that leaves me begging for more.

Legend of the Four Soldiers is centered around four soldiers who returns from war and a terrible incident that marks them forever. Battling with PTSD and worse, these are the stories of the happily ever afters these four soldiers find for themselves. In the midst of each story, true to Hoyt’s trademark, there is an element of mystery happening which makes the book that much more of a page-turner. Each soldier chooses a different path to travel to their ultimate destinations, and in doing so Hoyt once again finds a common theme between the enchanting fairy tale that she begins each chapter with and the actual story that unfolds. That is just one more reason why Hoyt has carved a notch for herself in a genre that is redundantly often overdone with stories that are taxing to read. 

Mr. Samuel Hartley the hero is not from London society, rather he is a businessman from Boston, one of the soldiers that comes seeking Lady Emeline Gordon on the pretense of hiring her services for his sister. But Samuel in reality is seeking the truth of what happened in Spinner’s Falls, to find out who it is that had betrayed their regiment in such an abominable manner. Emeline meanwhile comes off as snobbish and standoffish from the first moment Samuel seeks her out. Perhaps the reason being that Samuel triggers feelings inside of her that she had forcibly buried, never to resurrect, ever since the death of her husband. The scars that have been leftover from the death runs deep, something readers only come to know as the story progresses towards its pivotal moments.

Samuel comes off as someone rather average at first, a harmless soul if ever there was one. Hoyt created a mesmerizing character out of Samuel by revealing his true self as a man who is driven by desire of the kind he cannot control, an alpha man to boot, not willing to take no from the woman who holds his desires captive. Emeline would give just about anything to turn away from Samuel, but she finds herself in a vicious cycle of need that refuses to be denied, a need that sees her getting into one clandestine position after another with Samuel. 

Though the story was a tad slow at the beginning, once things started heating up, I could barely breathe from the anticipation that was coursing through me. I always love the fact that Hoyt never shortchanges readers on the scenes of passion that she so artfully crafts into her novels. They are gems to be treasured. Every single one of them. The way the passion between Samuel and Emeline exploded onto the pages was just as beautifully done. It was dirty, raw, explicit, momentous and beautifully wondrous at the same time. Every scene brings forth the tightly reined in passions of two people who are so well suited for each other, but one or the other is too blind to see it, or refuses to in this case. The number of quotes included in this review attests to what I am talking about.

Samuel’s stubbornly unyielding attempts at winning Emeline over mesmerized me just as much as the scenes of passion did, knowing that to win the heart of someone such as Emeline so well entrenched within the customs of the elite of society would find it hard to break out of the safe existence she had carved out for herself.

Absolutely breathtaking, the fairy tale as well as the story of the love that unfurls between Emeline and Samuel! No two ways about it. Recommended!

Final Verdict: A feast for all your senses; heart, mind, body & soul!

Favorite Quotes

She inhaled deeply and sat back, her face entirely hidden by shadows now. “What difference does it make to you if I do find your affairs to be of interest, Mr. Hartley?”
He smiled wryly. “Touché, my lady. I’m sure a sophisticated gentleman of your society would deny it to his death if he was moved by your interest, but I am made of simpler stuff.”
“Are you?” The words were whispered in the dark.
He nodded slowly. “So I tell you: I am moved by your interest. I am moved by you.”
“You are frank.”
“Can you admit the same?”

“Yes, that’s what I want. A civilized man. An Englishman who knows the rules of society, an aristocrat to help me with my son and my lands. We are perfectly suited, Jasper and I. We are as alike as two peas in a pod.”
She saw the hurt in his eyes. It was very subtle, few other people, perhaps no other person, would understand it, but she saw and comprehended. She was hurting him.
So she drove the knife home. “We will be married soon, and I will be very, very happy—”
“Goddamn you,” he growled, and then he kissed her.

She was panting, almost crying, her mouth working under his, their teeth scraping against each other inelegantly. There was no finesse, no pretty caress in their kiss. This was a display of lust and anger.
She could smell his skin. He wore no powder or pomades or perfume, it was purely him, and she was driven mad by his scent. She wanted to tear the coat from his shoulders, rip off his shirt and neckcloth and bury her nose in his naked neck.

“Samuel,” she moaned.
“Hush,” he muttered.
He was urging her legs apart, and one part of her mind was thinking that his position relative to hers did not put her in the most attractive angle. Then she forgot any doubts, for he was running his thumb along her crease.
“You’re wet,” he said, his voice deep and dark with male satisfaction.
She lifted her head from the wall and almost pulled away at that. How dare he take her for granted?
But he tilted her hips and then…
Oh, God! And then he licked her.

He swore suddenly, and then he caught her against himself, her bare back pressed to his waistcoat as his cock buried itself in her and began to spurt. It was an odd angle—and erotic—her feet on tiptoe, her legs wide apart, her breasts and belly bare and displayed, impaled on his cock. She heard him groan and reveled in his loss of control. He worked insistently at her bud, splaying his hand possessively over her cunny as he came inside her.
And then she did scream. Waves of almost painful pleasure coursed through her as she convulsed on his cock. He placed his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, and she bit him, relishing the taste of his skin on her tongue.
Behind her, he caught his breath. “Little cat.”

“I may not be fully aware of all the niceties of your society, but I think that you won’t want that.”
Her mouth had fallen open during this arrogant speech, but now as he turned away, she found her voice. “How dare you presume—”
He caught her by the shoulders, making her indignant sentence end on a squeak. He bent his head and spoke fiercely into her ear. “I dare because you welcomed me into your body not a quarter of an hour ago. Your body rained your pleasure all over my cock, and I want that again.”
He covered her mouth. But this time his kiss wasn’t gentle or soft. It spoke of a man’s desire. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and angled his head so that his lips all but enveloped hers, and her silly body arched into him. She wanted this. She craved this. Intellect and reason fled her brain.

He lifted his head, but his gaze remained on her breasts. “I’ve been thinking of this all day—your nipples, bare to me and what I would do with them. I could hardly walk for the cockstand in my breeches.” His eyes flicked to hers, and she saw that his expression was almost angry. “That’s what you do to me—turn me into a mindless, hungering cock.”
She squirmed at the words, so crude and explicit.
His nostrils flared at her movement and she froze. “Hold them for me. Offer your breasts to me so I can suck them until you come.”

“Will this do?” he grunted.
She didn’t answer, lost in a sea of bliss.
He slammed into her and held still. “Will this do, my lady?”
Her eyes flew open and she glared at him. “Yes!” She clutched at his buttocks, trying to get him to move again. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Just move, damn you!”
And he complied, either chuckling or growling low in his throat; it was impossible to tell, because her eyes had fallen closed again.

She sobbed, helpless and angry, and more angry that she let her innermost feelings show. “Stop.”
He shook his head slowly, pressing into her again, his hard body causing hers to flower open, vulnerable to all the sensations he was making her feel. His eyelids dropped for a second as if he, too, were overwhelmed by what he did. Then he raised them and looked into her eyes. “No.”

He withdrew a fraction of his length, but she felt the friction as his cock pulled against her oversensitive flesh. Then he was bearing down again, grinding, grinding, grinding against her exposed clitoris, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She came apart, all the secrets, doubts, worries, and hopes that she had kept tightly bound to herself flying outward, free and unharnessed, exposed to the chill morning air and to him.
To him.
And she looked up in time to see him grit his teeth and tremble, undone as much as she, as he released his seed within her.

But he withdrew his hand from her suddenly, catching her about the waist and lifting and shoving so that her rump balanced precariously on a barrel. Then he was between her legs, and she opened her eyes to watch him frantically rip at his breeches.
“God!” It was a groan. He freed himself and thrust into her, huge and hot, in the same movement. “God!”
She sank her nails into the cloth covering his shoulders and hung on for dear life, wrapping her legs high over his hips. He jerked rapidly in her, thrusting again and again and again. Her orgasm had not fully crested and now it began anew on a higher, sweeter, almost painful note.

She tore at his coat, ripping it off his upper arm, and filled her mouth with clean linen and his shoulder. Her eyes closed in bliss as she bit him. She clung to him while his cock took his pleasure of her. He rode her hard, rode her until she wanted to scream, rode her until he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, his mouth wide and gasping as he came, his great body shaking. She could feel the heat of his seed flooding within her. And she knew, even as she crested the wave herself, she knew.
This must be the last time.

He muttered something and released her nipple, catching her hips. He pumped into her in quick, powerful thrusts, grunting with each plunge, his cock hard and hot and long within her. His movements, his obvious desperation, prolonged her pleasure, and when she felt his warmth flood her, she was still in bliss. She fell against his heaving chest, his hand tangling in her hair, his breath rasping against her damp temple. She heard his whisper in her ear.”
“I love you.”

He wouldn’t forget her, his warm lady, even if he lived for six decades more. He knew that now, sitting by her cold fire. She would be with him all the days of his life. As he walked the streets of Boston, as he conducted his business or chatted with acquaintances, she would be the ghost beside him. She would sit with him as he ate, she would lie beside him as he slept. And he knew that when his time on this earth was at an end, his last thought as he entered the void would be of her.
The scent of lemon balm would haunt him forever.
So he sat a little longer, watching her sleep. All the days of the rest of his life stretched before him, and he needed to store up these few seconds with her.
They would have to last him a lifetime.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Dearest Rogue by Elizabeth Hoyt

Format: E-bookdearestrogue
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Maiden Lane, #8
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Hero: Captain James Trevillion
Heroine: Lady Phoebe Batten
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: March 26, 2015
Started On: July 07, 2016
Finished On: July 07, 2016

Dearest Rogue brings to fans of the series like myself the much awaited story of Lady Phoebe Batten, younger sister of the Duke of Wakefield and Captain James Trevillion, the man who is charged with being her bodyguard, a man who should know better than to want after a woman who he never should.

It is impossible to read the Maiden Lane series without falling, and falling hard for Phoebe. From the book Notorious Pleasures onward, Phoebe has featured prominently as a secondary character, fact that she was slowly going blind and would be completely so in a couple of years the reason behind the Duke, her brother, keeping her under such tight lock and control.

It is the sort of control that stifles the 21 year old Phoebe, who has given up her dreams of leading a life of the kind that ladies of her age and ilk take for granted. In that regard, James coming into her life is just one more notch that tightens the noose around her neck, and 6 months of having him tail after her every time she is to go out and about has meant that Phoebe has gotten more or less resigned to having him around.

James is a man whose life of servitude to the King in his occupation as a soldier is all the life that he knows how to live. Keeping his past under lock and key is how he deals with the memories that he tries to leave undisturbed, and if in innocent Phoebe he finds a respite from it all, that is all on him. In James once again, readers find a character they have come across multiple times in the series, especially when it comes to his pursuit of the Ghost of St. Giles. James is a character who has more than proven his mettle as one who is honest, honorable and someone who takes his duty very, very seriously.

James keeps his burgeoning feelings towards Phoebe close to his heart, and projects an image of stoic indifference because he knows that there is no future to be had with a woman like her when it comes to someone of his ilk and status. But when danger comes calling and Phoebe’s life is thrown into peril, James has to deal with his past as well as confront his feelings when it comes to Phoebe, who turns his heart inside out with want and love.

Dearest Rogue totes one of the prettiest covers in the series for me. I spent quite a while gazing at the beauty of the cover because it demanded to be looked and even caressed a time or two. James being the kind of character who does the silent and reluctant hero to boot was one whose story I had been anticipating for quite sometime, especially when in Darling Beast, his and Phoebe’s role as secondary characters were quite prominent.

Dearest Rogue also brings to the forefront, THE most emotional scene in all the books I have read in the series. There was this moment that takes place in the gardens that Phoebe looks after, where she comes to the realization of the fact that she has gone entirely blind, her valiant efforts at keeping a strong face in spite of everything crumbling at that very moment. My throat locked down and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and tears sprang into my eyes during that moment. For someone who rarely gets choked up with emotion like that, it is a moment that I would remember for a long time. James turned out to be the perfect shoulder to cry on at that moment and I wouldn’t have had the scene play out any other way!

Phoebe’s discovery of James as a man whom she could be attracted to and fall in love with was an aspect that I adored. Being sheltered in her upbringing, not to mention the fact that her brother had practically caged her since her blindness had started affecting her daily life and moving about, Phoebe had never been exposed to the kind of life that other ladies of the society get to live and lead. In James, Phoebe finds for the first time, a man who stirs her senses in a way that entices her into giving in, and the heady desire that a woman finds in the arms of a strong and virile man who would see to her needs.

Though James fights himself to not give in where Phoebe is concerned, it is a losing battle that he fights with his emotions, needs and desires, and the moment they leave London behind in an attempt to throw off those in pursuit of Phoebe, the feelings that James has been keeping at bay comes to the forefront, refusing to be denied. Phoebe herself makes the denying it all that much more difficult, and I reveled and loved every single minute of it. The facet that I loved most about James was how he let Phoebe be free of the shackles that bound and confined her to her home, making her die a slow death by being denied all that she wanted to do and experience in life. For James to understand that and step aside, even when it means going against his basic instincts of protectiveness, especially when it comes to Phoebe was something I admired in him.

It is a testament to Elizabeth Hoyt’s incredible talent and ability that she has managed to pen stories that continues to woo and move readers, even when it comes to the 8th book in a series. James and Phoebe’s story made for a delightful addition and I recommend it wholeheartedly!

Final Verdict: Delightfully wicked and wanton!

Favorite Quotes

“Did you kill that one?” Lady Phoebe shouted as they swerved around a cart. Her hat had fallen off. Light-brown locks blew across his lips.
He had her. He had her safe and that was all that mattered.
“Yes, my lady,” he murmured into her ear. Flat, almost uncaring, for it would never do to let her hear the emotion that holding her in his arms provoked.
“Oh, good.”
He leaned forward, inhaling the sweet scent of roses in her hair—innocent and forbidden—and kicked the horse into a full gallop through the heart of London.
And as he did so, Lady Phoebe threw back her head and laughed into the wind.

“I’m a dozen years older than you, my lady,” he said, sounding ponderous even to himself. “The same age as your brother, in fact.”
The thought made him unaccountably grim.
“And yet you seem much older.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maximus is very stern, but at least he laughs. Well, now and again. Once or twice a year, anyway. Now you, Captain, you never laugh and I doubt very much that you smile. I thought you at least fifty—”
He scowled. “My lady—”
“—or even five and fifty—”
“Phoebe.”
He stopped, shocked by his use of her given name.
She’d made him lose control.
She smiled very slowly, a little cat licking the cream from her chin, and he felt himself tighten.

“You intend to put it on me now?”
Her lips twitched. She would’ve sworn that was alarm she heard in Captain James Trevillion’s voice—and she’d never heard it there before. Not even when armed men had come after her.
“Yes,” she said, placing her fingertips at the bottle’s opening and tipping it so that the perfume wet her skin. She reached up, sandalwood and roses filling her senses, and touched him.
Touched the bare skin of his face.
Her breath stuttered.

Her fingertips met his cravat, a maddening barrier, and she stroked along it, dipping her fingertip just a little beneath the cloth.
She realized suddenly that she’d quite passed the bounds of propriety.
Shaking, she drew her hand away and stoppered the little bottle. “Well. That’s done.”
He didn’t reply and she wished very much that he would.
She held out the bottle, waiting for a long second for him to take it.
His warm, big hand closed around hers and she felt it suddenly, his moist breath across her lips. He was close, so very close, and she could smell bergamot and sandalwood and roses and wine, everything mingling together to make a heady elixir.
She froze, waiting, wanting.

She lunged forward, her nose hitting his cravat, pulling her hands desperately out of his hold, grabbing his coat, his ear, anything that was him. She knew how clumsy and awkward and blind she must be, but she didn’t care right now. Somehow her mouth found his jaw and she inhaled sandalwood.
“Phe—”
She smashed her mouth to his, cutting off her name. It wasn’t a sweet kiss by any means—she’d never kissed a man. But it was strange and wonderful anyway. She felt a bloom within her chest, a wild, pounding well of hope and joy, feeling his lips against hers. Breathing in sandalwood and bergamot, gunpowder and James.
James. James. James.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered into her mouth and it sounded unbearably erotic.
She gasped even as she did as he instructed, unable to catch her breath.
He settled there on her, his… his penis hard and on her mound, quite clear even through his breeches and her chemise. She tried to arch up against him, but his weight prevented her and she whimpered as she slumped back on the bed.
“Sh-sh,” he whispered. “Don’t fret. I’ll make it better.”
He touched her chin, tilting her face up. He kissed her again, slowly, his mouth wide over hers, and he was right. It was better.
So much better.

“I can see your nipples, did you know that?” he asked, and his voice sounded almost angry.
She knew what he felt wasn’t anger.
“Yes,” she said, bold as any Covent Garden soiled dove. “I know.”
He grunted what might’ve been a laugh. “They’re a deep pink, so sweet, so round, and every time I saw them, they were pointed, as if they wanted my attention. Wanted my mouth. As they are now.”
She swallowed a moan.
He slowly cupped her breast, his palm cradling her without touching her nipple. “Is that what you want? My mouth on your nipple, Phoebe, sucking until you scream?”
Oh God.
“Y-yes,” she said, and though the word came out more a squeak than anything else, she simply couldn’t care because he did just that.

“Please,” she said, sounding less ladylike and more demanding. “James!”
“Yes, my lady?” he asked, innocent, nearly disinterested. “What would you like?”
“You know.”
He trailed teasing fingers around the sides of her breasts, not quite touching her nipples. “This?”
“N-no,” she stuttered. “My…”
“Yes?” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. “Tell me, Phoebe. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“Oh, please,” she moaned. “Oh, please touch me.”
“How?” The one word was stern. Commanding.
“With your mouth,” she whispered. “Suck my nipple.”

“Use me,” he repeated. “Ride me until you come.”
Well, when put so bluntly… she lifted her bottom, feeling him slide a little out, then sat back down. She shifted a little, finding her balance, feeling him move within her, tightened her thighs…
And began galloping.
Oh, it was a wonderful feeling! His hard flesh in her, thrusting back and forth as she rode him. His panting breath—though he did no work—the sensation of being in control, of being able to make this man shatter beneath her.
She felt whole. She felt invincible.

He stroked through her open folds to circle her entrance. “You’re wet.”
His hands left her and she waited, breathless, open and wanting, the night air cooling her flesh.
There was a rustle of clothing and then he was over her, around her.
Thrusting into her.
She gasped at the sudden intrusion. He thrust once, twice, seating himself fully in her.
And then he stopped.
“I thought about this all day in that damned carriage,” he whispered in her ear.

She was still gasping, still trembling and shaking, when he rose and mounted her, driving his flesh into her softness, grasping her legs and urging her to wrap them high over his waist.
“Phoebe,” he growled into her ear as he thrust hard. “Phoebe. You haunt me. You drive me. You possess me. I cannot—”
He arched, his penis deep within her, his big body shuddering on hers.
She gripped his shoulders, pulling him down to her, opening her mouth and swallowing his moan as he spilled inside her, pumping and thrusting against her.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | BAM | Kobo | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Scandalous Desires by Elizabeth Hoyt

Format: E-bookscandalousdesires
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Maiden Lane, #3
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Hero: “Charming” Mickey O’Connor
Heroine: Silence Hollingbrook
Sensuality: 3.5
Date of Publication: October 18, 2011
Started On: June 04, 2016
Finished On: June 15, 2016

Scandalous Desires, the 3rd installment in the Maiden Lane series brings to readers the much awaited story of Silence Hollingbrook and her nemesis “Charming” Mickey O’Connor, a man whose life is surrounded by material richness garnered through a life of pirating. It is at the hands of Mickey that the life of marital bliss that Silence had envisioned for herself gets utterly and completely destroyed, not to mention that of her reputation as well. For all those reasons and more, I was pretty excited to discover how exactly Hoyt would redeem Mickey in Silence’s heart, for him to become a hero worthy of the love that Silence can give.

Silence is the youngest female sibling of the Makepeace family, having taken over the reins of handling the home for abandoned children in St. Giles from her sister Temperance. Of all the children under her keep, the one named Mary Darling is the closest to her heart because Mary had been found on her own doorstep, thus making Mary to Silence a child like that of her very own, until Mary’s father takes her away, who happens to be none other than the dreaded Mickey O’Connor.

Mickey bargains with Silence and pushes her just enough so that Silence has no choice but to stay on at Mickey’s home, if she is to be there for Mary Darling. Even though Silence knows that her family would have issues with her staying with the man who practically destroyed her, Silence realizes rather pragmatically that where she is concerned, there is no further loss of reputation to be had. As Silence and Mickey navigate the precarious affairs of their heart and emotions where each other are concerned, Silence discovers a side of Mickey that he hides behind that veneer of cockiness and the power that he commands among his brethren.

For Mickey, worldly richness is all that he craves for, what he believes is important, understandable given the life of poverty and hardships that he had lived through. The fact that he had witnessed his own mother commit acts out of love for her husband, acts that had turned off Mickey’s ability to love and be loved is one aspect of his life that he keeps hidden, especially when it comes to dealing with Ms. Hollingbrook, who is the very definition of innocence itself.

But Mickey plays a dangerous game with his heart, by denying himself from facing the truth of his burgeoning feelings for Silence, who in spite of herself becomes intrigued by Mickey and the various contrasting facets of his character, enough for her to leave everything that she considers right and as should be, to pursue her desire and love for a man who refuses to believe in it.

While Mickey did not exactly live up to my image of him as a villainous hero, he did prove to be an irresistible one who pretty much commanded every scene he strolled into. There is a perceived laziness to his character that is at odds with his quick wit and intelligence that Silence comes to witness as she spends time with him. There is a core of goodness in his heart that he hides from at all costs, even at the cost of losing Silence, who becomes everything to him in a short span of time.

There are two very contrasting sides to Mickey’s character, the pillaging pirate that Silence could never have loved and the man behind that facade, the man who loves butterflies, the one who sings to Mary Darling with that beautiful voice of his that turns Silence’s emotions inside out. But would Mickey ever be able to give up one for the other, become worthy of the love that Silence holds in her heart for him? That is the question that drives the story to its ultimate conclusion and I loved every single minute of the journey that took me to its final destination.

This is a story though that could be read as a standalone would cause a reader to miss out on pieces of Mickey and Silence’s story that forms the background for some aspects of the delectable tale that takes place in this novel. Towards the end of Scandalous Desires, Hoyt makes a startling revelation of the hero who would be gracing the next novel, i.e. the much revered Ghost of St. Giles.

Recommended!

Final Verdict: With every word, Hoyt creates decadence of a kind that is irresistible to the heart!

Favorite Quotes

His wickedly sensuous upper lip pulled back in a sneer. “What is love?”
She leaned close to him. “Something you will never have. Something you’re incapable of feeling. I pity you, Mickey O’Connor, for I may have lost my true love, but at least I had him for a time. You’ll never feel love.”
His sneer had grown and his voice was low and terrible. “I may not feel love, but I do feel this.”
He grabbed her hand and thrust it beneath the bathwater.
She struggled so violently that the water splashed over her bodice and the rug, but he was stronger than she. He forced her palm down against his male part, hard and thick, and held it there as he grasped her hair with his other hand. He yanked, pulling her hair, arching her neck, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, cruel and merciless.

He closed his eyes and she saw that his big body was trembling. He gripped the coverlet in both fists. “Ye must tell me if anythin’ I do frightens ye. I don’t want to hurt ye. I—”
She placed her fingertips against his lips and he froze. His black eyes snapped open and he watched her, wild and dangerous.
But not to her.
Never to her. She didn’t know how she knew this, but somehow, deep in her bones, she knew now that Michael O’Connor would never hurt her physically. He might hurt her emotionally, but even that wouldn’t be on purpose. One couldn’t blame the animal for the instincts he was born with.

Perhaps she was doing it wrong. Perhaps he really was in pain. She leaned down and brushed a soft, nearly chaste kiss over his lips.
It was as if she’d put spur to him. His tongue was in her mouth, his hips arching off the bed and his hands holding her down as he drove his length into her again and again. His passion was intense, nearly overwhelming and she hung on, determined to ride him out. Determined to bring him as much pleasure as he’d brought her.
Suddenly he pulled from her kiss, his teeth gritted, his head arched back, and he shouted. At the same time she felt the scald of his semen rushing into her.

“Turn yer head to me, love.”
She did and he devoured her mouth, licking salt tears from her lips, thrusting his tongue deep within, a pirate demanding tithe.
She arched and he could no longer hold himself back. He flexed his hips and drove deep within her, holding her cunny in the palm of his hand. He speared within her clenching valley, plundering all that was sweet in her. She opened her mouth wide in a silent scream and his release caught him, hard and fast as he kissed her openmouthed. He tore his mouth from hers and shouted his triumph. She was his, now and forevermore, until the end of time, until the seas ran dry and man no longer roamed the earth, amen.
His and only his.

“Put me where ye need me, sweetheart,” he whispered.
She reached between them and grasped him, conscious of his muttered curse as she did so. She couldn’t help a quick stroke up and down. He was so hard, so beautiful.
“Silence…,” he warned.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She put him at her entrance, biting her lip at his heavy heat. It felt so good—so right. For a moment she stilled. Would she ever be able to recover from this height if he walked away from her someday? She felt as if she were giving a part of herself. Something that could never be taken back again.
He twisted and shoved and began to breach her and she looked up as he did.
Michael—her Michael—was watching her, his nostrils flared, his lips drawn back from his teeth.

Oh, God, he was so powerful! She watched him. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face, his lips curled back with his exertion. She wanted to kiss him, to embrace him and tell him he was everything to her, but all she could do was hold on and try not to fall apart when the explosion came.
For it was fierce—as fierce as he. A burning, ripping tide of pleasure nearly as violent as it was wonderful. She felt as if her world was tossed up in the air and came down completely re-pieced. This was earth-shattering.
This was love.

 She closed her eyes, drowning in his lovemaking, pushing everything else aside.
“Silence,” he said. “Is it enough?”
She opened her eyes with an enormous effort and smiled up at him. “I love you.”
His eyes widened at her words and he roared, still pistoning in and out of her. The feel of his loss of control, the rush of emotion made her come as well, sudden and hard. A warm bubble expanded inside her, reaching her belly, her chest, her limbs and her fingers, until she shook with love and fulfillment.
Until she thought she might die of ecstasy and sorrow.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | BAM | Kobo | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Notorious Pleasures by Elizabeth Hoyt

Format: E-booknotoriouspleasures
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Maiden Lane, #2
Publisher: Vision
Hero: Griffin Reading
Heroine: Hero Batten
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: February 1, 2011
Started On: June 01 2016
Finished On: June 04, 2016

My journey into reading through the backlist of Elizabeth Hoyt continues, this time with the second book in the Maiden Lane series. Notorious Pleasures brings us the story of Lady Hero Batten, the daughter of a Duke, who has pretty much perfected the etiquette that is required of her in polite society. The final nail in the coffin where she is concerned is her betrothal to the Marquess of Mandeville, a union that is forged much like a business transaction as is the norm.

Lord Griffin Reading returns to London after almost a year, Griffin preferring to reside in the country residence where he harvests crops. It has also been three years since Griffin and his brother Thomas had become estranged, a source of much anxiety to their mother. Griffin hides behind a veneer of notoriety that precedes him, which makes it easier for his brother to continue with his feeling of disdain, sitting on higher moral ground where his brother is concerned.

When Hero at first walks in on Griffin, it is to find him in a less than savory position with the lady of the manor, forcing an instant dislike to come into place with one another. While Hero dismisses Griffin as someone who is not trustworthy, a man seen to be controlled by his baser appetites, Griffin considers Hero to be a bit too uptight, someone who could use a bit of loosening up, perhaps in bed and out of it. What both Griffin and Hero refuses to accept is that their dislike hides the real reason behind their perceived animosity towards one another – their instant attraction to each other.

What Hero does not realize is the trouble she is getting herself into by agreeing to an engagement with a man whose brother becomes the sole focus of her desires. It certainly does not help matters to realize that Griffin too feels the same way, and with society having already gone through one episode of scandal concerning Griffin and his brother, Hero is hard pressed to find a way to combat the unquenchable desire Griffin arouses in her.

Notorious Pleasures might not be a story well received by readers who have delicate sensibilities, especially when it comes to grey areas concerning that of loyalty towards ones betrothed. Furthermore, Griffin embarking on an affair of the flesh and the heart with the woman who would rightly become his sister in law in the future might be a bitter pill to swallow for some readers. I, however had no such problems with the story that emerged. I am always for authors who pushes the boundaries of the accepted norm. It is always a matter of how an author deals with the fallout. Life teaches us day in and day out that it is one gigantic lump of mess, which everyone is best trying to traverse without falling flat on their face. To read stories that are realistic in this nature is what I crave and Hoyt certainly does that and more with her stories.

With Notorious Pleasures, as is the norm with all her works, Hoyt manages to draw in the readers into a complex and multi-layered story that sees the emergence of Griffin’s character as one that is worth so much more than the initial impression he makes. There is a core of strength and loyalty inside of him that makes him appealing on so many levels. There is also the fact that the hidden facets of his character that emerges in the story makes him the actual hero where the two brothers are concerned, not that Thomas is a hard core villain of the variety people might think him to be given this statement. Even though his interest in Hero might make people look upon Griffin in a less than favorable manner, his saving grace comes from the fact that his brother too is not entirely honest with himself when it comes to his impending marriage with Hero.

Hero is a woman who is torn between the conventions demanded of her by society, by her powerful brother, the Duke of Wakefield and of course her desire to slay it all and stand with the man who makes her insides tremble with want whenever he walks in to a room. Griffin certainly does not make it easy for Hero to stay away from him, nor does he make it easy for her to walk away from the hedonistic pleasure that is to be found in the circle of his arms. The ultimate decision that Hero finally makes would not have been an easy one, which made me mighty proud of her for doing so, rather than opting for the easy way out.

Notorious Pleasures also continues the thread of story related to Silence Hollingbrook, whose marriage had practically died in front of her when Silence had taken matters into her own hands regarding the possible incarceration of her husband. Hoyt does a remarkable job out of leaving the reader wanting for more, and much more, and that is exactly why the Maiden Lane series is a must read for all romance readers out there!

I would also love to gush a bit about the beautiful covers that graces Hoyt’s novels. Each and every single cover featuring a couple is beautiful. The colors, the setup and layout as if it had come out straight from the pages of the book itself. Love them all!

Final Verdict: With a Hoyt novel, one is never a choice. One is never ever enough!

Favorite Quotes

“Please,” he moaned. “Please.”
He turned his head and licked across her nipple before gently closing his teeth over the tip. She gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder. He worried her nipple, then let it go to kiss it softly.
“Stroke me,” he gasped, and let her hand go.
She did, pulling up over that hard flesh, hidden beneath her skirts. That part of him that made him a man.
“Like this?” she whispered, low and intimate in the rocking carriage. Outside, London passed by. Inside she held a man’s penis in her palm.
“Yesss,” he hissed before tonguing her other nipple. “Exactly like that.”

She looked up at him, so full of his flesh. Was this all there was?
He seemed to understand the question in her eyes. He lay against her, his upper half braced away from her on straight arms. He smiled again, this time rather grimly, and grunted, “Feel.”
Then he slid against her, his penis slowly pistoning out and into her. She gasped. He did it again, his eyes watching hers, and swiveled his hips, grinding down on her.
“Oh!” With her hips tilted up, his body was hitting that spot exactly, each pull of his cock adding somehow to the exquisite sensation.
“Feel, my heart,” he whispered, and she saw that his eyes were glistening.

He reached the apex of her sex and spread his hand, pressing down quite explicitly on her clitoris.
And she jerked, hard and hot, falling from a great height, the wind whistling past her ears, glorious in her descent.
He arched away from her and pulled his cock partway out, then slammed it back into her, rough and fast and relentless. He thrust in and out in short, jerky, controlled movements, never so hard as to rattle the door, never so soft as to let her down from her fall from on high.
She wanted to scream, wanted to shout aloud with joy. This rapid energy was too much, was not enough. She wanted him to continue forever. She bit, gently, precisely, on his earlobe and his mechanical rhythm stuttered. He jerked, arched, jerked again and then thrust one last time, holding himself deep within her.
She felt heat flood her insides.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” he murmured as he settled between her thighs again. His penis was naked and big. “I’ve got what you want and need, if not love.”
She shook her head, no longer sure, no longer able to decide what was real and what was sexual excitement. “I don’t—”
“Hush.” The head of his cock nudged her entrance, and she felt the delicious stretch. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
A rough edge lined his voice now. He entered her, one slow inch at a time, and it was torture. She made to arch up, to embed him all at once, but he shifted one hand, holding her hips firmly down.
“Take it,” he growled. “Let me give you this at least.”

She arched beneath him, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders. He slammed his mouth over hers just as she opened it to scream. Hot flashes of lights were going off behind her eyes. His cock was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing over that one delicious spot, and she was going to die from the endless pleasure.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked it helplessly. He ground his hips into her and shuddered. She felt the tremors wrack his big shoulders. He tore his mouth from hers and groaned, long and low, his body shaking as it poured life into hers.

“Does he watch you like I do? Does he know that your eyes turn to diamonds when you’re aroused?” He nipped along her neck, his kisses insistent and hard. “Does he know that you like to read in Greek but loathe drawing? Does he wait with bated breath for you to arch your left eyebrow so prissily—and then grow hard when you do?” He thumbed both her nipples at once, bringing a surge of heat between her thighs. “Tell me, Hero, goddamn it to bloody hell, tell me: Does he make you feel like I do?”
“No!” Her answer was a despairing wail.
His thumbs were between them, spreading her folds as if he had every right, as if she was his, now and forever, until the end of time, amen. And then he was in her. Hard and hot, moving so exquisitely she began to cry.

“Do you love me, Hero?” His pale green eyes were full of torment. “Do you love me like I love you?”
And she cracked apart on his words, a stream of liquid heat pouring forth from her center. She trembled beneath him, trying to tear her gaze from his as her passion exploded within her. As rivers of sweet pleasure spread through her thighs and belly. As her heart fractured and re-formed.
But he wouldn’t let her look away. He held her gaze as his own eyes half closed and the muscles of his face, neck, and chest tightened. She watched helplessly as he convulsed above her, his big, strong shoulders gleaming with sweat.
He thrust into her once, twice, three times more and held himself there, tight against her, their bodies locked, as he orgasmed. His eyes pled silently with hers, defiant and proud.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | BAM | Kobo | eBookMall | ARe | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale

Format: E-bookflowersfromthestorm
Read with: Scribd for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: Standalone
Publisher: Harper Collins
Hero: Christian Richard Nicholas Francis Langland
Heroine: Archimedea Timms
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: May 27, 2003
Started On: September 10, 2015
Finished On: September 14, 2015

Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale is a book I attempted to read in my quest to go through the books in one of the AAR Top 100 Romances lists I found way back, the year of the list which I have forgotten. While I went in expecting a novel that would of course sweep me off my feet, I didn’t bargain on a read that would send my emotions in all directions, making me wonder whether I should have at times thrown the book at the wall or hugged it close to my heart. Because I think that pretty much sums up my emotions when I was lost in the story that Flowers from the Storm delivered.

For those newbies like myself to the novel, Flowers from the Storm stars the rakish hero Christian Richard Nicholas Francis Langland, His Grace the Duke of Jervaulx, Earl of Langland and Viscount Glade. By rakish, I mean that Christian is the type of man who has no qualms about sleeping with a married woman, impregnating her, nor much care for what the society thinks of him. His one and only passion apart from being as notorious as they come with the ladies, lies in the field of Mathematics, an interest that he keeps close to his heart.

Archimedea Timms (Maddy) is a of the Quaker faith, something which I came to know of only when I encountered Maddy’s character and her “odd” ways in the novel. Conservative to the bone in the way she was brought up, Maddy’s faith dictates all the ways of her life. Companion to her father John Timms who himself is a Mathematics enthusiast, it is through this shared connection between Maddy’s father and Christian that Maddy crosses paths with Christian. However their “acquaintanceship” is a short lived one because an event of significant impact that occurs in Christian’s life sends him away, leaving everyone to think he had died, until Maddy encounters him months later, at the asylum that is run by her cousin Dr. Edward.

When Maddy’s paths crosses that with Christian’s, Maddy finds herself unable to walk away from the man that is chained to his current existence in more ways than one. Maddy answers to her God’s calling so to speak, when determinedly pursuing Christian’s path to recovery, hindered altogether too much by Christian’s wayward emotions together with that of the leave that Maddy’s senses take, every time she is in close quarters with Christian.

One thing leads to another & before she knows it, Maddy finds herself married to Christian, going against every major tenet of her belief system, against everything she has known and holds dear to her heart. Her existence with Christian is one fraught with desires of the kind that Maddy has been sheltered from all her life. The extravagance of Christian’s life, not to mention the treacherous game she has to play with Christian’s family that would rather see his determined spirit locked up is one that eats away at Maddy’s soul, day in and day out. Until it all comes to its explosive conclusion which left a thousand different feelings coursing right through me.

There were times that I wanted to shake Maddy, times that she made me grit my teeth and trudge on. All because her belief system, the very core of her existence which had been her life up till Christian entered into it was one that prevented her from going all in when it comes to him. I wanted Maddy to throw away everything she had known, abandon ship and jump right on board with Christian. But then again, I knew deep in my heart that that wouldn’t have delivered half the emotion and realism that Maddy’s character lent to the story. Once all was said and done, I was grateful for Laura Kinsale for penning Maddy, for giving readers a character that threw my emotions all over the place. Because that is in essence what great storytelling does to a reader.

Christian was of course, easy to fall in love with. Easy to relate to. And oh how my heart wept for what happened to him. But his sheer determination to do right by his wife is one that had me stand up and cheer him on. In a journey that was fraught with danger of the kind that actually had my skin crawling. Not because bad guys were out and about with their pistols blazing. But because the danger was too close to home in the case of Christian. And I for one hyperventilated at the thought of him going back into a life of captivity, the fire inside of him extinguished day by day until even the embers of his soul are too tired to put up a fight. There were so many times that I wanted to Google and find out what had happened to him, what had rendered him to become so. A thousand times I waited for a miracle to happen, for him to just get all better. But then Laura Kinsale proved me wrong and delivered something better. And that is the sense of realism that I am talking about when it comes to Flowers from the Storm.

Flowers from the Storm is for readers who want to go beyond your usual variety of romances where the rake reforms overnight and the heroine just goes along with it like it was meant to be. There is so much more happening in the story, all of it intricately woven to give readers something that they would carry with them for the rest of their lives. Kudos Laura Kinsale. For you certainly deserve it after delivering a read this explosive to the mind, heart and soul.

Utmostly recommended!

Final Verdict: Flowers from the Storm is a novel that changes you. Dare you to find out for yourself!

Favorite Quotes

His mouth hovered near hers. Even if she had tried to step back, she couldn’t have, without kittens toppling in all directions. She felt herself entrapped by it, frozen into place by him.
He brushed his mouth against hers, so lightly and briefly that it was a mere breath, a warmth, a touch and then gone before her lips parted to object. He was smiling at them, at her, holding kittens at her ears, caressing the protesting animals along her cheeks. She sucked in a quick breath as pins burrowed into her forehead and the kitten on top tried to scamper down her nose.

The whistle slipped from his fingers. She felt it bounce against her breasts as his mouth came to hers. He touched her as the silver had touched her, just a light graze, but warm.
He took modesty and virtue and salvation away from her so easily. She gave it up so easily.
She stood washed in the sensation of his featherlight contact against her lips, his breath mingling with hers. It seemed as if God’s light within her must be shining bright, filling her with wonder. This man, his eyes closed, dark lashes so frivolously long as they rested against his skin: even his eyelashes were unholy in their opulence.

She felt her own will leap up to meet his. Her mouth opened; he answered instantly with a deep and ardent union. His hands drew downward, closing as he leaned into her, bracing his forearms on the door.
He enveloped her. The feel of his kiss was strange and painful and electric. Her hands opened helplessly, trying to find something to touch that wasn’t him, but everything was him: all the solid reality within reach.
He opened his palms and smoothed her hair—sweetly, over and over like a parent would touch a child—at the same time that he kissed her, pressing hard against her, a forceful intercourse of their mouths and bodies.

The duke looked up at Maddy. He swept his hand over the formula her father had completed, where the value for the earth’s distance from the sun was multiplied by numbers half a million times greater than itself to reach the realms of their new geometry.
“Stars,” he said, his face alight with passion. “In… finity.”
And he smiled at her as if he owned it: distance and space and stars and infinity… as if he owned her, too.

A scarlet petal floated downward, avoided the brim of her bonnet and caught on her shoulder.
The scrap of crimson lay there, close to the pale curve of her throat, between the stark collar and the tight upward sweep of her hair. Christian reached out and caught the petal between his fingers. She held stiff, breathing like a frightened doe. He let the moment spin out, his hand suspended near her cheek, not quite touching—not quite, not quite—a whisper away, a restraint as intimate as a kiss.
Color flooded her cheeks. Expectation. Her eyes, those eyes that turned hazel to gold under wanton lashes; her eyes held terror and wonder.
He stepped back and set her free.

Her braid lay over her shoulder and their hands. He toyed with the tip of it. He held it in one fist and ran his thumb against it. The single strand of hair, the tiny thread that she’d looped tight to hold it—the strand broke, and the plait came free.
He made a sound, low and hot. And then he released her—before she could find herself in his embrace, before she could say what it felt like—only that he was solid and tall and heated and catastrophic, only that she felt bare and hollow when he let her go.

She lifted her chin and kissed him back.
He had been her teacher: she knew how to taste his mouth, search the corners while he grew still, his lips parting a little. His body seemed to respond with a slow tautness, a tightening over her; his hands pressed into her skin. Yet he lay motionless, suspended, his mouth acquiescent to hers, as if his whole concentration was on what it felt like. His lips opened more with each contact, allowing her to seek further—inviting it.
She touched him with her tongue. He was foreign and familiar, so close and yet so strange to her. A nobleman, with fairies and Welshmen and kings in his history, lord of this hall and castle, but most alien and potent of all: a man.

He locked his hands with hers and spread them out on the cold stone. His signet ring drove into her finger, caught between his hand and hers, painful pressure down to the bone, but she wanted it. She wanted it there, as she wanted him. Everything inside her arched upward to meet his kiss. It seemed that she had been bound up, held tight by threads that he had broken with a touch.
She heard herself, like a whimpering child, moaning with the terrible pleasure of it. She moved; she could not help it, taking the rhythm that he gave her with his tongue, arching to find more.

“Maddy,” he said, between hard breaths, “make you…glad. I swear.”
She smoothed her hand down his shoulder and his back. She could feel his heart beating. He shuddered again and pushed himself closer to her.
“I’ll make you glad,” he repeated.
She bit her lip, resting her head against his.
He turned his face deeper into her. “Black Guard won’t get you,” he said, muffled.
Stop. Oh, stop, say stop, but it’s too late.
Too late. Because God forgive me, I love thee more than my own life.

He lifted his head from the carpet to suckle her. She moved with awkward exquisite jerks, writhing, until he cupped his hands at her buttocks and taught her the rhythm, her hair sliding between his palms and her skin. With a lovely suddenness, she came— with little female cries, like an unquiet dreamer: he brought his arms up around her and held her close for an instant—then with one deep thrust, holding her hips down to take it, he let go of the lust he’d kept dammed inside him.
When it was finished he held her hard against his chest and never closed his eyes— to make it real, and banish nightmares in the firelight.

She sat looking down at her lap desk. She fiddled with the corner of the paper, rolling it up, and then unrolling it. “Christian,” she said, watching her fingers. “Wouldst thou please come tonight?”
For a moment he didn’t do anything. Then he steepled his hands and lifted his head from the back of the chair, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers, gazing at her.
“Why wait?” He smiled. “I’m here…now.”

She gave him a push. The book slid down; he held it out behind him and let it fall with a flutter and thump as he leaned forward to kiss her mouth. He caught her body in his hands, his thumbs passing provocatively over her breasts, caressing the tips, back and forth. The feel of it drew a liquid arching, a breath and a pressing flex of all her muscles toward him.
“Want me?” he whispered, licentious, the Devil at her ear in full daylight: a man’s firm elegant hands on her body, blue eyes and long dusky beautiful eyelashes.

He pulled her petticoat and dress higher, cupping her hips and her buttocks with his bare hands. He made a rough, ardent sound near her ear. He bit her, hurt her, kneading her body in his palms, but it was sweet pain and sinful ecstasy. She felt him release his own buttons; his hard male part pushed and pressed, and she began to pant in desperate guilty excitement.
Like stone melting, her body slackened, her legs allowed him between. The sound of his breath was caustic, an animal engine, brushing heat across her nakedness. He pressed her hips, a rash hard grip of his fingers, making her close her legs on his shaft.

“Want me?” His voice was grinding, insistent, taut with extremity. “Maddy… inside you.”
She bit her lip, her face turned aside to the wall. “I want thee,” she said, on a sob. “I want thee.”
And he showed her how, then. How to bend and submit for him, in bondage to him, in daylight, sinking together on their knees to the floor, with him deep inside her, over her and around her, his hands holding her breasts, his mouth against the nape of her neck—lost in him and in his coupling with her. She cried out with violent joy at the height, her voice mingling with his masculine groan: the two of them no more, and no less, than every wild creature that God had made of clay to walk the earth.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | ARe | eBookMall | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

ARC Review: Heat Exchange by Shannon Stacey

Format: E-bookheatexchange
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Boston Fire, #1
Publisher: Carina Press
Hero: Aidan Hunt
Heroine: Lydia Kincaid
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: August 25, 2015
Started On: August 14, 2015
Finished On: August 16, 2015

Shannon Stacey graces her readers with a brand new series with the release of Heat Exchange, the debut novel of the Boston Fire series. Lydia Kincaid is forced to return to her hometown, albeit for a little while, when her sister requires her presence back home. Lydia had walked away from the life she had lived after being through it all. The daughter of a fireman and moving onto become the wife of one had taught her the hardships and the stress related to living the life of the one who stays back and worries about the safety of your loved ones.

Aidan Hunt is one of Lydia’s brother’s best friends, a firefighter himself who knows he should stay away from Lydia for more reasons than one. Lydia is the daughter of his mentor and also the ex-wife of a fireman who had worked in their regiment. Yet, the heat that is between Lydia and himself is palpable, strong enough that it makes staying away an impossible feat.

Lydia can’t believe herself when she starts having the hots for her annoying brother’s equally annoying best friend. Being 4 years older than Aidan, Lydia believes she should be able to shrug off the attraction that simmers in the air between them, but finds herself unable to say no and turn her back on what being with Aidan means.

When I picked up Heat Exchange, I expected a novel that would sweep me off my feet, not my fault entirely when Shannon Stacey is an author who has delivered on that countless times with her novels. Sadly, when it came to Heat Exchange, I found that the book was just okay at best. Nothing in particular about the story stood out for me or grabbed me in a way that would be unforgettable.

I found myself a bit annoyed with Lydia at times. Aidan though, was a sweetheart through and through. Perhaps they are ying and yang under the circumstances, each being the direct opposite of one another. There is a little side story happening alongside that with the main story of Aidan and Lydia; that of Lydia’s sister and her husband who hits a rough patch in their marriage. That story line actually had the potential to be an interesting one, but Shannon nipped that right in the bud by resolving everything together with the main story.

Recommended for fans of Shannon Stacey and those who love reading about firefighter heroes.

Final Verdict: Boston Fire series; set to deliver family drama & hot firefighters with a bite of love.

Favorite Quotes

“Aidan?” she whispered against his mouth.
“About a minute and a half left. I need to feel you, Lydia.”
Then his fingertips slid over her clit and she sucked in a breath. His teeth caught her bottom lip and she moaned, shocked by the intensity of her reaction to his touch. She knew it had been a long time, but she was already teetering on the brink. He slid a finger into her and she scraped her fingernails down his back, wanting more.
The heel of his hand pressed against her clit as he buried two fingers deep inside of her. She broke off the kiss, burying her face against his shoulder.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispered against her ear. “You are so fucking hot, Lydia.”

Aidan drove into her, burying his cock so deep within her she almost came immediately. She cried out, but he covered her mouth with his. The muscles of his back worked as he fucked her slowly and with long, deliberate strokes—almost pulling out completely before burying himself deep again. When she moaned his name, hovering on the brink, he quickened his pace.
“Come for me,” he said, his voice raspy.
And she did.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: Need Me by Tessa Bailey

Format: E-bookneedmetb
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Broke and Beautiful, #2
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Hero: Ben Dawson
Heroine: Honey Perribow
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: April 21, 2015
Started On: April 24, 2015
Finished On: May 10, 2015

From the deliciousness of the cover to what’s inside, Tessa Bailey seems to have outdone herself with the second book in the Broke and Beautiful series that wooed me in more ways than I can count. Tessa Bailey is a master, no a goddess, when it comes to delivering dirty of the good kind. As a reader who always loves a good bout of scorching steam in her romances, Tessa is a godsend from whom I dearly ask never ever to change in the delectable heroes and stories that she continues to deliver.

Having not read book one in the series, I can assure you with 100% certainty that you would be able to carry off with reading Need Me as a standalone. Tessa has managed to do a marvelous job with a trope that can be tricky to pull off, i.e. romance between a professor and his student.

Before you go on building your own assumptions about Professor Ben Dawson who teaches Introduction to Literary Theory, let me do my civic duty and inform you that Ben is worth your time in gold! And yes, I mean it. A man whose words alone seduced me from the beginning, whose control over his baser emotions was a thing of wonder to see break into such absolute mess of a pieces was just exhilarating to watch. I might be a bit too enthusiastic about that fact but lets face it, we all love a hero whose control breaks under the right circumstances and boy, does Tessa deliver a healthy dose of just that!

Honey Parribow, from the small town of Bloomfield, Kentucky has dreams of her own which is why she moves to the big city to make it a reality. Though she misses her home and family overly much, the essence of her being which yearns for things that her hometown would not be able to provide for her makes her stick it out. Not to mention her ‘unhealthy’ obsession with her lit professor Ben makes it all worthwhile.

When a culmination of events brings Ben to his knees and convinces Honey of all that she had firmly believed to be true about her “crush” on the professor, things take a turn that neither of them expects to. Ben finds himself in waters that he has steered clear of all his life. To make the same mistakes that his father had made, to ruin a life that he had built for himself with rigid control, rules and structure that seems to tumble down in the face of all that is Honey Parribow.

With plenty of angst to match and oh god, hot sex of the panty scorching variety included, Tessa takes the reader on a veritable feast for the senses that I just could not get enough of. If you are fan of Tessa, I don’t think you would need any further encouragement from me to take the tumble. If not and you have a thing for tropes like professor/student themes that deliver dirty talking heroes that would want to make you throw yourself at him, then I assure you that you’ve chosen right. Trust me on that.

There were so many aspects that I loved about the story. The emotional roller coaster ride this story took me on is one that is unforgettable. I was driven to laughter, tears & moments of sheer angst that felt so good that I didn’t want any of it to end. Few authors can make a reader feel right from the very beginning of a story till its end. Tessa Bailey is one who can, and does deliver, every single time. Need Me definitely is a story to be reckoned with and I think I’ll forever remember Professor Ben Dawson with a goofy smile and naughty glint in my eyes because every inch of his delicious self demands nothing less.

Ben Dawson is hands down the reason I fell for this story, hook, line and sinker. From the moment his uber controlled self strode into the story with his rules about keeping his personal & private lives separate, I knew that he’d cause me palpitations of the good kind. And oh boy, did he deliver! He delivered all that and so much more that I went into this state where I wished for a professor of my own just like Ben Dawson. But I have a feeling that the world cannot handle more than one of his kind; demanding in bed, a bit of a brood and of course towards the end sweet of the kind that is just potent! Sigh! I guess I can go on waxing poetry over Ben Dawson and even that wouldn’t be enough!

Tessa Bailey knows how to deliver characters that speaks to your heart. She’s yet to disappoint me in that aspect and I loved Honey Parribow to bits and then some. She was the perfect balance of wholesomeness, sexy and all things woman enough to drive the very stoic professor out of his ever loving mind. Loved Honey’s courage, what drives her to pursue her dreams & of course the way she is able to so effortlessly drive the professor to profess all sorts of dirty deeds that he wants to do to her and with her. Oh boy!

Only thing that I wanted more was a bit more of Honey and Ben towards the ending. After such a painful angst ridden of a “separation”, my heart needed the healing and I guess I acutely missed that & felt that the ending was a trifle bit rushed. In all other aspects, Need Me was perfect and I wouldn’t change it any other way.

I cannot end the review without sharing some of the notes that I made along the way while I was reading, which I think would convey more of what I was feeling than a lengthy review would! And forgive me. I went sort of crazy with the quotes. But I tell you, it was ALL worth it!

My God, Tessa Bailey, where on earth did you dream up Ben from!!!

Sigh! What’s with Tessa and the way she makes her men strut around that makes ME want to say, hell yes please, take me now!!!

Tessa Bailey! Oh the things you do to a woman!!!!

Holy shit Tessa!!

Final Verdict: You’re going to fall in love. In love with every single inch that’s Professor Ben Dawson.

Favorite Quotes

She took a deep breath and eased closer to him. The door rattled, telling her he’d backed up and hit it. Good. He couldn’t go any further. She placed her palms on his chest and felt him shudder. Heard him curse in an almost desperate manner. Memorizing every inch of terrain encountered by her hands, she smoothed them higher, over his shoulders, before dragging her fingertips back down the way she’d come. When they reached his hard abdomen, Ben heaved an exhale and tunneled his hands into her hair. It was so sudden and so fierce that Honey’s knees almost gave out.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Touching you. Feeling what you look like.”

“Fuck. I’ve been so hard all day, babe.”
She felt dazed at hearing her straightlaced professor curse. Admit to a weakness. “Why?”
“So many reasons.” His laughter sounded pained, turning into a hiss of breath as she began to stroke him through his pants. “But it feels like it was all for you. I don’t know how to explain that.”
The beating in her chest expanded, reaching her throat. Her limbs felt heavy but pliant at the same time. Coupled with the darkness, the anonymity, his words emboldened her. I’ve been so hard all day, babe. It feels like it was all for you. She went up on her toes and laid her mouth on his ear. “I’ve been soft for you all day, so I guess we’re even.”

“Did you think of me when you put those good girl panties on this morning?” He coasted his hands up the tops of her spread legs, letting his thumbs drag up the sensitive insides of her thighs, taking her skirt higher as he went. “Did you think they’d make my dick hard if I got a peek at them?”
“Yes.” The answer burst out of her in a desperate whisper, as if she’d been holding it in. “I thought of you when I chose them.”

Ben sounded out of breath when he rounded the doorway into the classroom. He stood outlined by the frame for a moment, looking her over from head to toe. Burning her. God, he looked amazing. If possible, his stubble had grown more pronounced during the reading, hair standing out at every direction. Honey trapped a gasp in her throat when he slammed the door behind him and came toward her, moving so fast her heart shot to her throat. His long legs ate up the distance. The weight of his determined gaze had her gripping the large metal desk behind her for balance.

He hauled her body up against his, bending her backwards over his forearm and yanking her back up, as if he couldn’t decide how he wanted her. How to get close enough. His fingertips traced the hem of her dress before slipping beneath to skim up the inside of her thigh. When his warm hand molded to the flesh between her legs and squeezed, Honey broke away with a moan.
“Does it still hurt?” He grated the question at her lips. “Tell me it still hurts so I can lick it better.”
A sharp exhale burst from her mouth. “It still hurts.”

“Do you know what I thought about during the reading, Honey?”
“What?”
Her head fell to the side, giving him room to suck and lick at her neck. “I thought that if we were sitting in the back row, I would have made you sit on my lap. With my dick inside you.” He drove into her tightness, again and again. So wet. So damn wet. Fuck yes. The rhythm was perfect. Steady enough to give her time to come, fast enough to satisfy this urgency she made him feel. “No one would know except us. Unless you moved, even just once. Because then you’d have to keep moving. We’d need it. And we’d have to fuck right there in front of everyone.”

Her lips curved into an even wider smile. “Where I come from, a good story is a gift.”
“You must be buried in gifts, then.”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Feeling a little uncomfortable, he tried to sit up straighter, but she shook her head and he stilled. “Your papers.” He cleared his throat, and it echoed in the empty classroom. “I’ve read the classics ten times over, I’ve studied and written enough words to drown us both, but I bet I’ve never held anyone’s attention the way your papers hold mine.”

“Come on, babe. I’m right behind you.”
“Ben.”
Sweet fucking hell.
No one came like Honey. She bent forward with her hands braced on the wall, practically giving him a vertical lap dance as her body trembled. Legs spread, hips grinding on his hard dick while she moaned his name. As if she needed to feel every damn part of what their bodies had produced. He’d never get over seeing it. Especially not at that moment, when release clamored in his stomach, successfully finding an outlet right between her gorgeous thighs.

Roxy pulled her knees up to her chest. “So, Professor Ben, huh? Please tell me he slapped your ass with a yardstick.”
“Well it wasn’t a full yard . . .” Honey coughed into her fist. “But it was impressive. It reminded me of that scene in A Few Good Men where Jack Nicholson yells, ‘You can’t handle the truth’ at Tom Cruise. Except Ben was Jack Nicholson and my vagina was Tom Cruise.”

Honey tried not to be miffed that he didn’t appear bothered by the lack of nookie on the table. It made her wonder if he had a plan cooking behind those scholarly looking glasses. “Who was Elmer to you, Honey? Please note that I’m speaking in the past tense.”
“My high school sweetheart.” She pursed her lips. “You jealous of ol’ Elmer, Ben?”
“ ‘Jealous’ is too common a word. His existence is a threat to my sanity.”

He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me.” He waited for her nod. “You’re going to take me somewhere now where I can see you without your panties on. I’m going to get you off good and hard, maybe a few times. And then, Honey, we’re going to talk.” He bucked his hips into her twice. “But first, I’m going to fuck you so dirty, you won’t be able to look anyone but me in the eye afterward. Have you heard everything I’ve said?”
He removed his hand so she could answer. “Yes. Okay, Ben.”
“Good. I’ll be at the truck.” He stepped back, letting her slide down the wall. “Tell them whatever gets us out of here.”

When her palm brushed over his erection, his head fell back and hit the car on a groan. As she unzipped his pants, she leaned in and licked the column of his neck. “Whenever I fantasized about you during class, I pictured you wearing a tie when I did this.”
“Did what?”
Honey gave him a sly smile in response. Having succeeded in undoing his pants, she slipped her hand into his boxer briefs and stroked his heavy arousal. “You asked me earlier about my favorite position.”
“Tell me,” he panted. “Say it.”
She placed her mouth over his ear. “On my knees.”

He ceased his torture of her breasts to lift his head. “You want me to finger bang you, Honey?”
“Yes. Yes.”
His eyes locked on hers as he drove two fingers inside her. Oh God. She was going to come. Going to come. But she couldn’t, because his touch didn’t move, granted her no friction. Her hips lifted and fell in a plea, but he didn’t grant her request, choosing instead to study the movements of her body like one eyed a juicy steak. “If you move like that when I’m inside you, babe, I will fuck you all the harder.”

“I’m the only one who belongs inside you,” he growled. “Show me why, babe.”
She tightened her thighs around him and ground herself down as the climax shook through her. Her scream was swallowed by his hungry mouth as it claimed her, tongue pushing her lips wide to tangle with hers. His big body, plastered so tightly against her, began to shudder. He ripped his mouth away with a shouted expletive, eyes squeezed closed as his release took him.

Her heels dug into the small of his back. “One thing you do, though, is by far the hottest.”
“Tell me. Tell me now. I’ll never stop doing it.”
Honey’s lips twitched. “When you talk to me in that professor voice.” Her eyelids fluttered, as if just saying it out loud was enough to get her going. Sweet hell. This girl. “You do it all the time, you know. Out of nowhere, your tone changes, and it . . .”
“What?”
“It makes me so wet,” she murmured, hitting him with the full impact of those big eyes. “For you.”

Ben kept her pinned with his body, continuing to speak in the voice he usually reserved for lectures. “That’s a good girl, Ms. Perribow.” He rotated his hips, grinding the base of his cock against her clit. “Now take down your panties and bend over my desk. Stay that way until I’ve dismissed you. Not a moment sooner.”
Honey cried out, her body going bow tight beneath him before it started to shake. Ben watched her with nothing short of awe. Unbelievable. He’d actually made her come just by talking to her. He liked the power of that. A lot. Maybe too much, because his body was now thrumming with the relentless need to be inside her. Now.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | eBookMall | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Requested Review: Wildsmith by J. J. Sachs

Format: E-bookwildsmith.jpg
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance
Series: Untitled, #1
Publisher: Self-Published
Hero: Jason Wildsmith
Heroine: Lucy Albright
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: October 18, 2014
Started On: December 21, 2014
Finished On: December 21, 2014

Wildsmith by J.J. Sachs is a novel that took me completely by surprise, in a wonderful way. Lucy Albright is having a hard time with her boyfriend Kieran James, the best looking guy in the university, who should have been able to knock her socks off and then some. But time and yet again, Lucy finds herself frustrated, left hanging too many times to count and on the verge of screaming herself hoarse from the sheer frustration of it all.

When Lucy’s new professor Doctor Jason Wildsmith revvs her engines in more ways than one, Lucy is at first wary though excitement tinges along with it. The intensity that is Wildsmith is one that Lucy is hardpressed to ignore and finally, Lucy decides to give in and test the waters where Wildsmith is concerned.

What follows is one of the most erotic and mind melting variety of sex scenes with a touch of BDSM that made me go yowza in several places. Wildsmith and the control that he exerts on himself and the sex scenese fraught with tension plus the mindless pleasure that he gives Lucy is one that is addictive; even to the reader. Wildsmith, the name itself conjurs something wild, his bad boy past and the educated mind of his with his “reformed” self one that is damn near IRRESISTIBLE!

The ending when it came was one that made me want to howl. I so wanted the story to be done in one book, but the fact that this is the debut book in a series meant that I had to go through the agonizing end and weep over what both Lucy and Wildsmith has to go through to hopefully come out stronger and united when the series is through.

The one thing I did love about the ending though was the fact that Lucy gained enough self confidence to take charge of her sexuality. And though I did love Lucy’s dominant side towards the end, I do wonder how that is going to work with Wildsmith. Somehow I have a hard time conjuring up two dominants together. Even then I couldn’t help but mourn for Wildsmithm, the man who has entered my heart and I don’t think that there is going to be any other for either Lucy or me!

Definitely recommended! I am definitely going stir crazy with curiosity over how J.J. Sachs is going to turn around the story now!

Final Verdict: Erotica that sizzles through the nerve endings; Wildsmith makes the heart pound.

Favorite Quotes

She had gone less than ten yards when he heard the sound of running feet. A hand fell on her shoulder, whirling her round. Arms wrapped around her, and Wildsmith’s mouth fell on hers. With a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed, she answered his kiss.

And still he went on. All restraint gone, he allowed her legs to fall open and grabbed her hips. Hair falling across his eyes, growling with his own pleasure, he pounded his cock into her, pulling on her hips to make sure she took every last millimetre.
She cried out again as a fresh wave of orgasm shattered her, almost weeping as he fucked her with rough, animal wildness.

“Open your eyes, Lucy. I want you to watch this in the mirror.”
She obeyed, instantly.
“You will learn to control yourself,” Wildsmith continued. “Now I am going to fuck you. If you make a single sound, or move, until I give you permission, I will stop and this session will be over.”
How can he be so fucking cruel?
The thought was blown away in a hurricane as Wildsmith gripped her hips and pushed into her.

Fearing to move in case he stopped completely, she could only bite her lip in frustration as he entered her millimetre by frustrating millimetre. Breathing ragged, she fixed her eyes on the image in the mirror to distract herself. The reflection she saw there just made her need worse: Wildsmith rising above her naked body, hair hanging over his face; candlelight gleaming on his skin; jeans hanging open. Her own eyes were fierce and wild; the collar still around her neck making her look like an animal.

Her orgasm was instantaneous; the howl that wrenched from her throat as she arched her back and lifted her head, primal. Her body shuddered and shuddered again, as Wildsmith’s driving shaft finally brought release. Lucy could no longer tell pain and pleasure apart. Every part of her was caught up in a blossoming explosion that ripped through her, touching off fresh, bigger and deeper explosions. It was as if Wildsmith had spent the previous hour setting explosive charges throughout her body and was now triggering a series of ever-greater detonations with the relentless thrusting of his cock.

Purchase Links: Amazon

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: The Right Man by Anne Stuart

Format: E-booktherightman
Read with: Kindle/iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Gowns of White, #3
Publisher: Harlequin
Hero: Jake Wyczynski
Heroine: Susan Abbott
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: February 1, 1999
Started On: November 23, 2014
Finished On: November 24, 2014

My craving for an Anne Stuart found me with The Right Man, a novel penned by Ms. Stuart for the 50th anniversary of Harlequin. Told in three parts, The Right Man has a time travel factor to it and tells the story of Susan Abott who begins to question her impending marriage to her fiance Edward with the arrival of Jake Wyczynski, who comes bearing gifts from her godmother.

Susan has always been a dutiful daughter, one who hadn’t cared much for the passions that seems to rule people. But with the arrival of Jake on her doorstep, Susan starts experiencing twinges of doubts where her decision to marry Edward is concerned and for the very first time finds herself captivated by heady desire for a man that slowly begins to overrule her senses. However, Susan believes herself to be made of sterner stuff, that is until she finds herself occupying the role of her deceased aunt Tallulah, who had died 50 years back on her wedding day.

50 years in the past, Susan meets Jack McGowan, the man who makes her heart pound with desire, the man for whom she would give up everything, if only he were able to love her back. Tallulah’s life is a nightmare, with her father and stepmother “forcing” her to marry a man of immense wealth just so they can continue to live within the means they think should be their due. With the clock ticking, Susan has to find a way to give Tallulah a happy ending and at the same time find a way to return back to her life, something she seemingly wants less and less as the time spent with Jack makes her yearn to stay back.

The Right Man is a story that had a trifle bit of an oddity to it in the time travel factor, and yet told beautifully. Juggling three individual stories that I yearned to read as standalone novels, Anne Stuart managed to pull it off in the manner that only an author of her caliber can. I had a hard time separating Jack and Jake in my mind and I’m just going to say that I loved them both equally and fell for both of them hard and fast. They were both exactly when Tallulah and Susan had needed. And I couldn’t have loved them any more even if I tried. 

Susan & Tallulah are easy enough to separate in my mind. Though there’s a fifty year time span between the two, their situations had been eerily similar in a manner that lent the story an ethereal feel to it. Though I didn’t care much for the time travel aspect of the story and firmly believe that the story would’ve worked wonderfully well even without that and that Susan would have eventually seen the error of her decision to marry a man so unsuitable for her, Anne Stuart still managed to blow my mind with the ending she gave to the story. I could have sighed for an eternity over the beautiful ending and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Recommended!

Final Verdict: Magical!

Favorite Quotes

He pulled her closer against him, so that her body was plastered up against his nearly nude one, so that she could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her. She tasted of fresh strawberries and coffee, and he wanted more, he wanted to taste every part of her, he wanted to strip off her clothes and drag her over to that narrow, sagging bed.

She stopped thinking. She slid her arms around his waist, plastering her body against his, and she made a soft, moaning sound of surrender in the back of her throat. She’d been so cold, and now she was blazing hot, her body on fire, tasting his tongue in her mouth, feeling the strength of his hard body against hers, his hand closing over her breast, his leg nudging between her thighs.

“You want to hit me again?” he taunted.
“Yes!” She moved toward him, like a fool, not realizing his intention. He caught her upraised hand and pulled her into his arms, her body slamming up against his. This time when he kissed her she kissed him back, surrendering with a quiet moan of longing and despair.

Her instincts had been right— Jack McGowan sat sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. With a towheaded baby nestled comfortably against his shoulder.
He was snoring softly, which didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping baby one bit. He’d loosened his tie, his hair was ruffled and he was in need of a shave. He was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.

He slid his fingers through her short- cropped hair, tilting her face up to his. And then he kissed her, taking his time— a slow, languorous touch of mouth against mouth, tongue against tongue, building in increments of heat and desire until he found she was trembling and he was, too.
He didn’t ask. He simply pulled her up tight against his body and took her to the bed. And she let him.

He didn’t remember how he managed to strip his pants off, but he did so in record time. He was blind with need, wild with it, wild with wanting her, and the calm, sane part of him had vanished into some dark, dangerous place, where all that mattered was Susan, reaching for him, opening for him, taking him deep inside her as she wrapped her body around his and held him tight.

It was dark and gloriously sinful and utterly right, and she moved in the darkness, the breeze cooling her fevered skin as she slid over his body and took him deep within her, rocking and surging until she shattered around him, helpless in her powerful response, and he turned her beneath him and finished it. She hid her face against his chest, licking his skin, whispering dark and wicked secrets, and he kissed her eyelids and her throat, kissed the small of her back and behind her knees, and nothing mattered but that the night would never end.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | HQ | eBookMall | iTunes

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by mvbookreviewer

Review: My Beautiful Enemy by Sherry Thomas

Format: E-bookMyBeautifulEnemey
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The Heart of Blade Duology, #2
Publisher: Berkley
Hero: Leighton Atwood
Heroine: Bai Ying-hua
Sensuality: 3
Date of Publication: August 5, 2014
Started On: October 2, 2014
Finished On: October 4, 2014

My Beautiful Enemy by Sherry Thomas follows closely on the heels of The Hidden Blade. I would say this once again, this time having finished the 2nd book that signals the end of this duology; you have to read The Hidden Blade first in order to really get into the characters Leighton Atwood and Bai Ying-Hua (Catherine Blade), whose tragic and moving pasts entwine both of them in a way that’d not be felt if you just end up reading My Beautiful Enemy as a standalone.

My Beautiful Enemy tells the story of Catherine Blade aka Bai Ying-hua, who is tracking the three jade tablets for the treasure it might unearth based on the legend of the monks that had been a part of Catherine’s life when she had been growing up. She seeks the tablets on behalf of her stepfather Da-ren, the closest thing she has left as family, to win his approval and perhaps be considered worthy of all that he had done for her.

Catherine is well versed in the art of fighting, she is like a lethal blade honed to perfection. But her life had not come without making a formidable enemy in its wake. The man who searches for her seeks vengeance of the kind that needs Catherine to be in her best form, something she has been hard pressed to achieve ever since the last encounter between them. Her journey takes her to London, the stories of a city that teems with life according to her childhood friend that fails to live up to her expectations. And then it happens; she crosses paths with that of her lover, the lover that she had poisoned trying to kill him, the man she’d searched for in vain after, the man who still has the ability to bring her to her knees, the only man she has ever loved.

Leighton hasn’t forgotten the young woman who had slayed his heart in the Chinese Turkestan 8 years back. His love for her had been swift, but it had been a relationship based on half-truths at best, which hadn’t served well for either of them when the time had come. Seeing a different version of the woman he has tried to forget all these years throws him for a loop, and Leighton is hard pressed to act normally and not let his fiance think anything untoward about his aloofness around Catherine.

Old habits die hard and before Leighton knows it, he is swept into his old role of taking care of Catherine, looking after her well being because Leighton would rather die himself than see any harm come to Catherine. My Beautiful Enemy consists of a lot of flashbacks into the entwined pasts of Leighton and Catherine, how they meet and how the beautiful man that Leighton is wins the prickly Catherine over with his gentleness, charm and the fact that when it comes to Catherine, his heart had never stood a chance.

For the most part, Catherine comes across as someone who is straightforward and assumes a no nonsense lifestyle. Though well versed in the etiquettes of what is deemed as proper behavior for a lady, beneath the facade that she presents to the rest of the world lies a heart filled with loneliness, an aching soul that yearns for nothing else but love. Her past had taught her to be wary, but when it comes to Leighton there is little fight left in her when she had already succumbed to his touch years ago. I didn’t like the flashbacks all so much. I felt that one reason why I failed to connect to both Leighton and Catherine as the story progressed was because all that had indeed connected them happens through flashbacks in the story.

My Beautiful Enemy is certainly different from the books that I have read from Sherry Thomas to-date. This tale doesn’t focus mainly on the element of romance between Catherine and Leighton. Rather I would say this duology focuses on the fated connection between Catherine and Leighton that spanned continents all those years back, the near miss of a meeting that should have happened between them and how years later, finally, Catherine and Leighton find their way towards each other.

I felt a trifle bit disappointed with the steam factor of My Beautiful Enemy, perhaps the reason why I felt that Catherine and Leighton’s connection didn’t touch me in the way it really should have. Especially, after having read the scrumptious scenes of passion that Ms. Thomas can weave in her romances; The Luckiest Lady in London will attest to this fact, needless to say I felt My Beautiful Enemy was a bit of a letdown in that sense. Point; I just didn’t fall as hard and fast in love with either Leighton or Catherine as I should have.

Entertainment wise, My Beautiful Enemy hits the spots. Emotional wise, thought I felt a bit disconnected from Catherine and Leighton, I was still swept away by the sheer magic that is Sherry Thomas’ writing.

And oh yes, this bit in the novel that describes my country, the Maldives, blew me away!

“There is a chain of tropical coral islands not far from the southern tip of India. And all around them the water is the exact color of the sky, and so clear you can see the fish swim. I want to take you there.”

I’d say Sherry Thomas has done a perfect job in describing a country renown for its beauty.

Recommended for those who love historical fiction and romance. Sherry Thomas is an author you ought not miss in this genre.

Final Verdict: A connection that defies time and distance; a love that knows not the span of continents.

Favorite Quotes

When he returned, one window of his room was wide open, the curtain whipping in the draft.
Someone with her skills could have easily closed the window behind herself, if she wanted to.
Instead, she had chosen to acknowledge her presence. Her invasion of his privacy.
And in doing so, reaffirmed the desire on her part that had set him on fire, like a city already ransacked.

Slowly she lowered the dagger, but the pulse at her throat grew ever more agitated. Her gaze landed on his lips. He held his breath, his heartbeat wild. He remembered the taste of her skin, the texture of her hair, the lithe shape of her body pressed into his. He remembered the whimpers of pleasure that escaped her, the glazed look in her eyes, the way she writhed and clung and took him ever deeper inside herself.
The parlor echoed with the sounds of their breaths.
She pivoted and walked out.
Behind her, the bead curtain shook and swayed, as restless as the desires of his heart.

She felt her lips tremble, her throat constrict. He’d gone back twice? “You must not have realized that I caused your occasional disability.”
“I have known it for years. The poison in your salve was extraordinarily powerful.”
She could scarcely believe it. The backs of her eyes prickled. “And still you looked for me?”
He exhaled. “And still I looked for you.”
Something hot and wet rolled down her cheek. “I left Chinese Turkestan in the winter of eighty-three. I never went back.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and let go of her. “I guess some things are not meant to be.”
Neither of them said anything more. And then the silence became that of his absence, a silence that she had come to know all too well.

Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes | eBookMall | ARe

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