Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Smith Redfield Heroine: Molly Archer Sensuality: 3 Date of Publication: September 16, 2020 Started On: September 25, 2020 Finished On: September 25, 2020
Love at First Fight by Carrie Aarons, advertised as an enemies-to-lovers romance is how I was enticed into picking this up as my next read. The fact that Ms. Aarons is a new to me author did not stop me from taking the plunge. While I found the main elements of the story to be exciting, I believe that my lack of clear enjoyment in the novel stemmed from the fact that what I expected from an enemies-to-lovers romance failed to materialize in a huge way.
Molly Archer and Smith Redfield are enemies, or at least to Molly, Smith who is best friend to her ex-boyfriend hates her guts. That permanent sneer etched on his face and the barbed references that he directs her way tells a story of its own. So when she turns up at the Hamptons, determined to forget and move on from how her ex had dumped her via a text before his plane took off to Singapore in pursuit of his new job and greener pastures, the last thing she needs is for Smith to be present.
To Molly’s mortification and other feelings she would rather not name, Smith’s presence is a problem she is not ready to deal with in the aftermath of a breakup that had left her vulnerable. But buckle up she does to face Smith, a force to be reckoned with in every sense, and finds more than she bargained for once the veneer of hostility fades and behind it is a man she could fall hopelessly in love with.
For Smith, the path he had chosen when it comes to Molly had been one born out of sheer desperation. It had been either that or do something that would make him the worst human ever, and as a result, being an asshole to Molly had been how he rolled. Forced into enduring each other’s company, feelings of the kind he had wanted to avoid all along rears its head and there is no turning back from that point on.
By the time I was less than half way through the story, I realized that this was no enemies-to-lovers romance, but nevertheless it was sweet in its own way. I did not expect nor want sweet when I dived in, I wanted animosity, seething resentment, and at the heart of it, unbeatable desire and want that would lead the characters to places they had both never been before.
I believe that this novel could have delivered more heat and generated a more intense connection between Smith and Molly had the author chosen to. Another thing that irked me was how the chapters just seemed to end so abruptly; for instance when Molly and Smith visit her folks and she stands up for him when her parents were being rude to him – there was a point in which I thought a groundbreaking moment in the story was just about to happen in the next chapter.
I turned the page and it was as if I had gone into the twilight zone or a parallel universe where things had already moved on from that pivotal point or what was supposed to be one. I seriously did not understand why that was the case and even checked to see whether I had accidentally swiped a couple of pages on the Kindle and ended up one or two chapters ahead of what I should have been reading, but that was not the case.
I wanted the spark and heat, I wanted better flow in the story and not the erratic trajectory upon which the novel unfolded. Alas, while the story had much potential, the delivery sadly, was lacking.
Recommended for fans of sweet romances.
Final Verdict: Love at First Fight is no enemies-to-lovers romance, but rather the story of a love that unfolds for a man who was put in an untenable position prior to having his dream come true!
Favorite Quotes
Molly comes wordlessly, her body shivering with pleasure, her head tipped back into the pillow. She looks like a work of art, something that should be housed in the most famous of museums. Every time I think of delight, of bliss, this is the moment I’ll recall from this point on. “I always knew … I always knew …” I seem to gasp on the words as my balls contract, cum bursting from my tip. My climax steals through every cell, every nerve ending, a surprise as I’m still watching Molly unravel. I go still, spilling myself into her. The fact that I’m bare makes it last a lifetime, her pussy pulsing with each twitch of my cock.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: New Adult Romance Series: St. Mary’s Rebels, #1 Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Arrow Carlisle Heroine: Salem Salinger Sensuality: 3 Date of Publication: September 17, 2020 Started On: September 19, 2020 Finished On: September 23, 2020
My Darling Arrow by Saffron A. Kent seems to be a hit with a lot of readers, especially fans of Ms. Kent’s work. I too am a fan of Ms. Kent, since having stumbled upon the greatest love story ever written on the unrequited love theme, i.e.Unrequitedby the author. Since then, I have read her entire backlist of published books (which is not a gigantic number, if you are wondering), and loved almost all of them. Dreams of 18 which was published prior to this was where it all started going downhill; I found the story to be regurgitated version of her earlier works, with just enough tantalizing elements thrown into the mix to make it wholesome. My Darling Arrow, I am sorry to say, is incomparably much worse.
The debut in the St. Mary’s Rebels series, My Darling Arrow brings together 23 year old Arrow Carlisle and 18 year old Salem Salinger, the latter, who for all intents and purposes would not have been at St. Mary’s had it not been for her “rebellious” act of trying to leave home in the middle of the night. Salem and Arrow’s lives had crossed paths when Salem and her sister Sarah had gone to live with Arrow and his mother. Salem had fallen in love with Arrow on first sight at the tender age of ten, while Arrow had gone ahead and fallen in love with Sarah, who is of the same age as he.
Years go by, until St. Mary’s is the setting and testing grounds in which Salem once again comes face to face with the love of her life who would never be hers. That is until she finds out what truly happened to bring Arrow to her turf, tempting her beyond reason to say yes to everything that Arrow proposes. While I wanted to love the story so much, it fell flat on so many levels that it saddens me to even write a review as such.
I found My Darling Arrow to be too saccharine for my tastes. I found the depth of or rather the lack of in-depth characterization for both Arrow and Salem to be problematic. I wanted more than repetitive descriptions of Arrow’s unbelievably hot physique and ramblings of Salem’s mind when it comes to Arrow and how much she wants him. I grew tired of the lack of anything substantial happening up till towards the latter half of the book, which I believe was one of the biggest reasons for my lack of enjoyment in the story.
The fact that I found neither Salem nor Arrow endearing enough rests on the reasoning highlighted above – if you do not know enough about the characters you are reading about, and everything is either about how manly Arrow is and/or how emotionally wrecked both of them are in their different ways; I am guessing it all just ends up being tedious to read about from a certain point onward.
Sexy and sinfully hot sex scenes is something I have always counted on Ms. Kent to deliver, but alas, even that failed to materialize in a large way because there was just too much time spent trying to appease readers who would have had problems with Salem and Arrow getting together with Sarah in the picture and painting this picture of a heroine who ticks all those boxes when it comes to modern reader tastes.
I wonder whatever happened to the Ms. Kent whose books I fell head over heels in love, books that I keep recommending to other like-minded readers and receiving rave and glowing reviews of afterwards. There was such heart and force behind her previous books which slayed all my emotions and then some, the author who did not care about the conventional norms in romance writing and was not afraid of pushing the boundaries, staying true to the course of her characters.
Recommended for die-hard fans of Ms. Kent. I for one, am sorely disappointed.
Final Verdict: My Darling Arrow was unpalatable on so many levels; the despondency I feel is one that is indescribable.
Favorite Quotes
He leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth and I freeze. My eyes go wide when he flicks his tongue out and licks that corner too before whispering, “Tell you what. You waited for me, didn’t you? You worried over me. Not to mention, you’re my friend. So maybe I can give you a little something.” “Something like what?” He kisses the corner of my mouth again, a small, soft, soothing kiss. “Your first kiss,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning over my mouth. “I told you I wouldn’t but maybe I can break my own rule.” “You can?” “Uh-huh. For you.” “For me?” “Yeah. Just to be nice.” Oh God. Thank God.
He curses and strains, his cock expanding inside my channel. His head rears back, his spine bowing. I see his sweaty, hot body become tight and stone-like as his cock jerks inside of me and spurts the first dose of his cum in the latex. We’re both coming together then. He’s pulsing inside of me like I’m pulsing around him. I scratch his ridged abdomen and his hand fists my hair at the scalp. I realize that’s what he wanted to hear too – that I’m his. That I’m my Arrow’s, and I smile again.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Historical Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Impeccably Demure Press Hero: Christopher St. James Constant Heroine: Miss Bryony Marton Sensuality: 3.5 Date of Publication: August 14, 2020 Started On: August 20, 2020 Finished On: September 04, 2020
If you are fan of Anne Stuart like myself, and have in all probability read most of her published books you can get your hands on, you would probably jump at the very possibility of a new book being published by a veritable master of the genre. There are very few books by Ms. Stuart that has not satisfied me on all counts, and even then, her stories tend to have that edge and quality to them that makes them memorable. Ms. Stuart is also the maestro when it comes to writing anti-heroes; her ICE series (contemporary) and The House of Rohan series (historical) are testament to this fact.
Published in August of last year, The Absolutely Positively Worst Man in England, Scotland and Wales (quite a mouthful, I know), was therefore much awaited to say the least. I had been regularly following up on Ms. Stuart’s blog to see when this baby would be published, and of course once it was, I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to dig in, even with work deadlines looming.
Christopher St. James Constant, third Earl of Adderley (Kit) is a man bored out of his mind, willing to be amused by pretty much anything. The news that his “friend” Sir George Latherby is about to get married rouses him of the boredom and lack of interest in life that plagues him, and so cooking up a nefarious plan to kidnap the betrothed to hasten the nuptials among other things, thus Adderly finds himself in the company of 25 year old Honorable Miss Bryony Marton.
Bryony wants nothing to do with her betrothed or any man for that matter. On the plain side, with scandal having eroded any means of making a good marriage match possible, Bryony has been biding her time until she could escape the confinement that is her every day life. When that “escape” comes in the form of kidnapping, while Bryony could have managed everything if it had been just herself, the fact that her cousin Cecelia is also taken alongside with her complicates matters.
Adderly, while he expects to be entertained to some extent by the events that unfold, he never would be thought it possible to be taken by surprise when it comes to Bryony. Her calm and unflappable demeanor, even under the most trying circumstances leaves him with an indescribable feeling coursing through him. Furthermore, when it would be far easier to have his way with the silly chit that is Bryony’s cousin, Adderly finds himself drawn to the plain looking thing that Bryony is, in a way that he is not at all comfortable with.
In the midst of it, Ms. Stuart also brings to life a secondary romance between Cecelia and Peter Barnes, member of the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court who is hired by Cecelia’s parents to bring her back home, leaving Bryony to her fate.
The Absolutely Positively Worst Man in England, Scotland and Wales is a story that brings an abundance of joy to to the expectant fans of Ms. Stuart. It has the hero whose reluctance to accept his feelings towards the heroine prevents him from giving in, and the heroine who at first, with her survival instincts kicking in, knows that the hero heralds the end of her life as she had known it.
While both Bryony and Adderly may not want to accept the heat that is very much alive between them, especially Adderly who knows better, there is no denying nor resisting what is inevitable. Their coming together is explosive in the way only Ms. Stuart can deliver scenes of passion, and the aftermath giving you that ton of angst to keep your adrenaline pumping. While Adderly tries (he truly does), to leave Bryony behind and get on with his life (though there is not much to it without her by his side), towards the end, it is Bryony who musters up the strength required to get them to their happily ever after.
I did love the story as it unfolded, with the main protagonists being endearing in their own unique ways. When it comes to the secondary romance, at first, I did not mind much for Cecelia’s character – I just found her to be a “convenient distraction” from what was springing to life between Adderly and Bryony. I felt quite annoyed by the time Ms. Stuart dedicated to Cecelia at that point in time. But once Peter Barnes came into the picture, I somehow found myself eagerly waiting for the bits and pieces to their story as well, finding Peter to be a hero I would have loved reading about more!
Adderly is an addictive hero – there is no doubt about that. He is lethal to your heart in a way that you foresee, but at the same time, you are unable to prevent him from piercing through and staking his claim on it. Bryony, with her calm and at times motherly nature, is exactly what Adderly needs but resists up till the very last minute. Adderly hides his scars behind the mask of indifference and boredom that assails his life and there is a darkness to his past that he has never really recovered from. The tantalizing bits and pieces to his past that Ms. Stuart dangles is just enough to draw your own conclusions and that is somehow enough to understand where Adderly is coming from.
At the cost of repeating myself, I loved the scenes of passion; they were certainly decadent. Though there was an epilogue to the story (readers deserved one after all the upheavals that we went through), it was a strange one to say the least. But nevertheless, it did serve its purpose, leaving the reader wanting more, and at the same time wondering whether Ms. Stuart would write a story about finding the modern day equivalent of Adderly. As an avid fan of Ms. Stuart, I can only hope!
Definitely recommended for fans of anti heroes, fans of Ms. Stuart, and those who love historical romances!
Final Verdict: Ms. Stuart does it yet again, delivering a delectably phenomenal read, with characters who tug at your heart and incite every sort of emotion conceivable.
Favorite Quotes
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Open up, poppet,” he said, devilment in his eyes. “It’s time you learned to kiss properly.” “I know about proper kisses,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “I stand corrected—let me show you about improper kisses.” He dropped his mouth to hers once more, and his tongue touched hers with a slow, languorous stroke.
“Never let it be said I disappointed a lady,” he muttered, and before she realized it, he’d crossed the safe distance that had remained between them, slid his hands through the loose curls on the back of her head and crushed his mouth down on hers. Cecilia Elliston had kissed seventeen men and boys, and she considered herself a reasonable expert in the matter, but she’d never, ever been kissed like Peter Barnes kissed her. He’d turned her around, pressing her up against the wall, and his mouth slanted across hers, hot and hard and wet.
“I’m not a termagant.” “Perhaps not. In fact, I’m not entirely sure how sweet you are beneath your calm exterior. I have every intention of finding out.” Before she could sense what he was doing, he’d slid one hand behind her neck and drawn her face to his, his open mouth covering hers. She’d thought he was calm, poised, playing games with her, but his kiss wiped out any pretense of self-control. With a low growl, he turned her in his arms, so that she was straddling him on the wooden chair, and she could feel him between her legs, that hard part of him that fascinated and frightened her. He used his tongue, kissing her with such a ferocity that she could do nothing but let herself be kissed, as slowly he moved her, back and forth over that solid ridge of flesh beneath his breeches.
He took her hand away from her body and placed it between his legs. “There’s your proof. If you want to swear this night never happened, then be my guest. Most men wouldn’t notice whether you were a virgin or not.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it there. “Night?” she echoed doubtfully. “All night long,” he confirmed. “Now come here.” “I am here,” she said stubbornly, trying to ignore the fear and desire that were building anew within her. “Closer.” Obediently, she crossed the tiny distance so that she knelt between his long legs. “Now kiss me. Kiss me the way I kissed you.” This was the point of no return, her last chance to say no. She leaned forward and put her mouth against his, and her uncovered breasts pressed against his chest. She tried to retreat, but he put his arm around her, pulling her closer, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting her shy one, coaxing it, teasing it, so that she forgot to think, so lost in sensation that she felt drugged with it. With lust, he said.
The first, tiny wash of pleasure was a shock, and she let out a little gasp as it hit her. He lifted his head, breathing on her tender parts. “You liked that, didn’t you? Stop fighting me and you’ll like it a lot more.” He licked again, and then slid two long fingers inside her. The sudden invasion shocked her, and she squirmed, but it only seemed to bring her closer to his mouth, as he explored, licked, and sucked with seemingly all the time in the world, and his fingers pumped into her slowly, readying her, and this was all too much… The sudden convulsion hit her, so fast and so hard that she cried out, but instead of drawing back, he redoubled his efforts, and she felt the nip of his teeth. It was the last thing she remembered, as darkness shut around her, her entire body seemed to explode in tiny pinpricks of reaction, and no sooner had one wave crashed them another rose, and she was crying, thrashing, caught in the maelstrom.
He didn’t move, holding himself just slightly above her so that his full weight wasn’t crushing her, and his eyes were closed, his face cold and hard in the moonlight. Slowly, her body relaxed, beginning to accept his presence so deep inside her, and she wanted what she’d felt before, that glorious, unsettling crash of feelings that had now left her completely. She tried to shift, but his voice came, hard and strained. “Don’t move.” She stayed still, wondering when this would be over. Though admittedly, there was a certain…pleasure in being covered by him, surrounded and invaded by all that strength. “Are we done?” she whispered, uncertain. His laugh was the last thing she expected, and she could feel it all through her body, everywhere his skin touched her. “We’ve only begun.”
He bit her breast, and reaction slammed down on her, that mindless, blinding delight, multiplied by a thousand candle flames, and he was moving fast now, deep, powerful thrusts that only made her needier. She wanted to tell him, but she’d lost the power of speech, and he was moving so fast, slamming into her, and their bodies were slick with sweat, and she needed… And she was gone, lost in a storm of sensation that she simply shattered in his arms, holding tightly, as if she were drowning, and he was the only port in the storm. She was vaguely aware that he suddenly pulled out of her, and she felt the heat and wetness on her stomach, and she wanted to cry out. She needed him inside her, she needed everything….
“More,” he whispered hoarsely, and before she realized what he was doing he’d pulled her down onto him, still hard, and she let out a little cry of distress and satisfaction, as she felt him grow within her. “Your turn,” he said in a rough voice, hard hands at her hips, moving her. She pushed against his shoulders, straightening up, and the sensation was strange, different, wonderful, and he was moving her, in small increments, up and down his shaft, rubbing inside her. Fresh need filled her, and she was the one who needed more, needed more of him, all of him. She didn’t need his hands guiding the rhythm, she’d caught it on her own, and she moved, sure and certain, pulling up high and then sinking down again with a cry of pure satisfaction.
She came again, harder this time, and the little shriek was music to his ears, but when he went back for more, she pushed him away. “Wait,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Wait.” “I don’t feel like waiting,” he growled, so close to the taste of her that it was driving him mad. “Get over it,” she said, and he fell back with a laugh. She was standing up to him. No one ever stood up to him, particularly in bed, and his cock grew unimaginably harder. She got to her knees on the mattress, looking down at him, and she looked like a hoyden, an angel, and something in between. She looked like a woman without fear, and he wanted to celebrate it, but instead, she pushed him down on the bed and followed with her kiss.
He pulled out, and she let out of cry of desolation. “No!” she moaned, but he simply flipped her over beneath him, so that her face was in the disordered sheets. “Yes,” he said, pulling her hips up. “This way.” And he pushed inside her from the back, feeling her quim tighten around him once more, rippling in reaction, and finally he was released, let go. He thrust into her like a madman, over and over, until she suddenly shrieked, clamping down around him, and he exploded inside her, filling her with his seed, collapsing over her, holding her beneath him as he spurted, and at the last minute, he latched his teeth onto her neck and bit her like a big cat marking his mate.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Lachlan Matthew Taylor Heroine: Dandelion Meadows Sensuality: 3.5 Date of Publication: March 25, 2020 Started On: August 14, 2020 Finished On: August 19, 2020
Sweet Dandelion by Micalea Smeltzer is from a new to me author, whose books that I would definitely be checking out from here onwards.
Following the aftermath and recovery from a school shooting that renders the heroine Dandelion Meadows unable to cope, it is the requirement tat she takes counseling sessions at school that puts her in the path of the 29 year old school counselor, Lachlan Matthew Taylor.
Dandelion has been trying to move on from what happened for the past nine months, having lost her so much at the school shooting incident. The trauma is raw and alive within her, and though Dandelion is skeptical of the efficacy of the sessions she is required to take, meeting Lachlan is an experience in itself.
From the start, Lachlan is conscientious of her needs. He does not push her into going in directions which is extremely difficult for her, but at the same time, Dandelion finds herself drawn to, and at peace with her thoughts when it comes to the her sessions with Lachlan.
When things start to change between them, even though both Dandelion and Lachlan try their darnedest to not let it happen, somehow, somethings in life are inevitable. It is pretty difficult for Lachlan to reconcile his burgeoning feelings for Dandelion with that of his role as her school counselor and as a result he struggles more than Dandelion does when it comes to the consequences of their coming together. The fact that he is also a lot older than Dandelion is one reason, and even though both Lachlan and Dandelion are lonely in a way that they both alone identify with, there is a whole host of challenges that they both need to overcome, if their love is to survive.
There is a sweet poignancy to the story as it unfolds, and Lachlan, my God Lachlan!, is definitely one for the book boyfriends list. He is sweet, dreamy, kind, has a soul that yearns for love and deep abiding connection with the other half of his soul, loves fiercely and gently at the same time, and is demanding and intense in bed, setting the pages afire. I loved Lachlan from the very first moment he came into the picture, and in a way, he reminded me of Professor Lukas Halstrom, but Lachlan is definitely one of the most unique heroes I have come across and I fell for him hard and fast.
Dandelion has her own growing up to do, even though she has an old soul that yearns for Lachlan in every single way. Even with everyone in her life dead set against the thought of Lachlan and her together, Dandelion knows that she would choose to be with him in a heartbeat, if he were willing to take the risk. But then true love is sometimes never as easy to conquer as we would like to think, and there is a lot that Dandelion goes through before she is ready to take that step and understand where Lachlan was coming from all along.
Needless to say, I loved Sweet Dandelion. It is no mean feat to cast two protagonists whose love would be frowned upon and castigated severely by society (and it is usually for good reason), and make it into something so profoundly beautiful that I am at a loss as to how to properly describe the feelings that coursed through me as I delved deeper into their story. The in-depth characterisation, how comprehensively Ms. Smeltzer explored the range of emotions between the two, not to mention that of the secondary characters in the story; all that and more lent this tale an edge that lasted up till the last page was read and done.
There is nary a word nor character that I would do away with in Sweet Dandelion and I believe this is what extraordinary romance books are all about – taking on difficult tropes and working them out in a way that leaves the reader spellbound from start to finish. The TWO (not one), epilogues tucked at the end made up for a lot that happened as the story reached towards its climax and beyond, and I loved and reveled in all of it!
Definitely recommended for those who love romances that sweep you off your feet. Sweet Dandelion is one for the records and Lachlan, definitely a keeper!
Final Verdict: Sweet Dandelion is story that is nuanced, sumptuous, and phenomenal; Lachlan and Dandelion sweep you off your feet on a journey that is worth every obstacle faced along the way to their HEA!
Favorite Quotes
I lean over, closing the short distance between us. The peppermint on his tongue permeates the air and I lick my bottom lip before I press my lips to his. My mouth tingles from the taste of him. He doesn’t move at first, but then a manly growl echoes in his throat. His long strong fingers tangle in my hair. His hold is tight enough to hurt, but isn’t painful. His tongue finds mine and that minty taste is everywhere. I’ve never been kissed like this before. It’s a ravaging more than a kiss, like he’s a knight claiming his bounty. His stubble burns my cheeks, but I don’t mind the sting—it’s a welcome reminder that this is real, I’m kissing Lachlan, but more importantly he’s kissing me back.
His eyes close once more, murmuring my name. In a blink his hands are on my hips. I squeak as he pulls me onto his lap. My hips sink down onto him, a soft moan parting my lips at the feel of him pressed to my center. “Dani,” he croons. His hands fist in my hair. I roll my hips, eliciting another moan from my throat. “Dani,” a purr this time. Finally, blissfully, his lips are on mine.
He kisses me with a desperation I mirror with my movements. I’m eager to get closer to him, to feel every part of him. Our tongues tangle together with a passion we’ve kept chained for months. This is the kind of kiss I’ve seen in movies and read in the books he’s let me borrow. It’s a kiss that changes things. There’s no coming back from this. It doesn’t in any way compare to our first kiss. That was a hesitant, fragile thing, while this is a claiming.
“Lachlan,” I gasp, and he bites my bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth. His blue eyes meet mine in the dark as he releases my lip. “Let go, Dani, I’ve got you.” I don’t want to let go, because once I do, I’m afraid this moment between us will be over too. There’s no controlling it once I fall off the ledge into an abyss of pleasure. His hold tightens on my hips, his own rocking against mine. He pants, letting out a low groan. “Fuck.” We fall together. Spinning. Twirling. Stars. Pleasure.
“Why does it have to be you?” he whispers gruffly, moving his lips over my face. “Kiss me,” I beg, not even caring if I sound wanton. He does, our dance long forgotten but a whole new one beginning to play out. His hands move down my body, creating a trail that sends fire spreading through my body. “Touch me,” I beg. “Please.” My voice is achy with need. “Dani—” “Please.” His uttered, “Fuck,” is a deep rumble.
His long legs round the couch, carrying me down the hall. He taps the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a blink my back hits his mattress. His big body is a blanket over mine. With his grip on my neck, our lips are only separated by millimeters. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” “Show me.” His eyes flash in the darkened bedroom, only illuminated by the lights emanating from the outside. “Dani—” “Show me,” I beg, kissing his chin. “Show me.” His jaw. “Show me.” His cheek. “Show me.” His eyes stare deep into mine. Looking. Searching. Finding.
“I love you,” I murmur, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. His hands flex against my sides, his jaw working back and forth as his eyes fill with turmoil. I fear he’s going to shove me away, that common sense is going to overtake our feelings, but he doesn’t do that. “I love you, too.” The words are barely above a whisper, but they’re every-fucking-thing and I feel them all the way down to my toes. Saying them once must make him bolder, because he says them again, this time louder. “I love you.” Louder. “I love you.” He begins to punctuate each word with a kiss. “I love you. I love you. I love you Dandelion Meadows. Despite it all, despite myself, I love you.” Our kisses deepen, fueled by a love that defies the odds.
“Dani,” he growls my name into my ear, turning into a feral sound. “Fuck, you’re killing me baby.” He applies a little more pressure to my clit, increasing his speed. My orgasm hits like a rocket shooting into the sky. My whole body shakes and when my hands fall from the glass, my body unable to stay upright, he’s there to catch me. He gathers me into his arms, holding me close, gently now. He rubs my back as the tremors fade. “That was—” He silences me with a kiss. Rubbing his thumb over my cheek he stares into my eyes. “Amazing,” he finishes for me.
“Lachlan—” In a blink he’s upon me, his mouth taking mine prisoner. He’s rough, demanding. His hold on my cheeks is tight and I find my back pressed against the wall. He claws at me like a wild animal, bunching the tulle of my skirt in his hands, trying to yank it up. I kiss him back with fervor, a spark igniting into an entire fire inside me from one touch of his lips. I match his desperation, pulling at his shirt, trying to get it over his head. He tosses the shirt off like he can’t get it far enough away from him. His eyes are twin sapphires blazing when he looks down at me. His whole body is a taut live wire waiting to go off. “If you don’t tell me how to get you out of this dress, I’ll rip it off of you.”
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Sargent Wolf Heroine: Tempest Sensuality: 3.5 Date of Publication: September 01, 2018 Started On: July 25, 2020 Finished On: August 06, 2020
Having experienced the high that came with reading Becoming His Mistress, I quickly grabbed a copy of His Father by A. E. Murphy as this one seemed to be right up my alley. Younger heroine who meets the father of her best friend, and bam! The sparks fly and there is no looking back, even when the union is bound to be opposed and face a lot of turbulent times before reaching the ultimate happily ever after.
When Sargent Wolf’s son Maddox brings home his best friend Tempest, with whom Maddox had been backpacking all over the world, the reaction that the first introduction itself triggers in both Sargent and Tempest is one that cannot be denied. Sargent hides his obvious fascination with Tempest’s piercing and more behind gruff indifference, while Tempest tries her hardest to act as if its every day occurrence to meet a man who makes her wet with want with one searing glance sent her way.
Before long, Sargent and Tempest give in to their desire for one another, come what may. There is no denying that they fit like two peas in a pod, with Tempest answering a deep seated need in Sargent for acceptance and love, something that he would not have admitted to even with a gun pointed at his head. However, there are darker forces at play in Sargent’s life that he has to sort out before anything longer term can come of what is between him and Tempest, not to mention facing Maddox once the cat is out of the bag.
His Father, though not of the caliber as Becoming His Mistress, was a compelling read for the most part. I liked both Sargent and Tempest; Sargent is the kind of hero that I love best – gruff, demanding, and reluctant to face the truth of his feelings towards the heroine. Tempest was exactly what Sargent needed – kind and gentle, with a depth to her character which gives her a maturity that most people her age would not have.
There is a particular incident in the story as it reaches a pivotal point, which many readers may find to be a turn off. But I think I understood why what happened took place. There was literally nothing else Sargent could have done at that point in time, but give in. But at the same time, I found the turn the story took to reach that point a bit jarring. While it was understood that Sargent had had a tough time with Maddox’s mother, the whole drug sale affiliation tangent just seemed out of place, even though I suppose it served its purpose towards the end.
I loved the angst factor that came later on, and how Sargent came through at the last minute, lending the emotional depth to the story that I craved when all was said and done. The one thing that I missed was an epilogue – it would have meant so much more for the story had there been an epilogue at the end.
Recommended for fans of those who love age gap romances, when falling in love seems so wrong, but feels so darn right.
Final Verdict: With emotional depth, angst, and scorching hot sex leaping out of the pages, Ms. Murphy hits it out of the ballparkwith His Father.
Favorite Quotes
“Jesus,” he whispers when he finally makes contact and slips his finger into the wetness between my thighs. I whimper, shifting on the soft rug as he drags the moisture to my clitoris and rolls it gently, only quickening his pace when I shudder. I reach out and grab his bare arm as my aching, clenching, and burning body writhes from his touch alone. “Please,” I beg on a whisper, aching to be filled, touched more, something. Anything. When his mouth closes around my pierced nipple and his tongue rolls around it I grip the fur rug and come undone.
I crush my lips against hers, making her squeak with surprise. Making myself groan as she accepts me so willingly, tangling her tongue with mine perfectly. I grip her around the back of her neck holding her to me as I pull her closer, forcing her to slide her leg over my lap until she’s straddling me. Her fingers push through my hair, it feels incredible and sends tingles down my spine and straight to my dick. When she releases my mouth for a breath I kiss her throat, her collar, then yank down the front of her shirt, popping out the pierced breast so I can suck it into my mouth. She gasps, and that goes straight to my cock too.
My body is trembling, almost weak as I fight to hold onto my control. She’s so good. She feels so good. “A little more,” I whisper as her mewls get louder and her grip gets tighter. “I really need you to get there.” I’ve never not lasted the length required. I’m going to blow it and she’s going to laugh at the experience with the old man. Fuck that. I am not old. I have better stamina now than I did in my twenties. I drive into her faster, my hips hammering at a speed I didn’t realize I was capable of. “God,” she whispers, clutching me tighter. Her pussy starts pulsing around my swollen dick and I know she’s there.
“Hold tight, angel.” “To what?” She gasps when I slam into her so hard she shoots forward, face-planting the mattress. I laugh, but only for a second as she starts to quiver around my hard dick that’s still firmly inside of her tight little cunt. She’s so wet, making it hard to manipulate her clit in the right way. Though I know I must be doing it right because she’s mewling like a fucking porn star and her entire body is shaking. I pump slowly, circling my hips and then jackhammering into her quickly until I feel her nearing the edge. I’m teasing her but I love it. Her little curses and whimpers and moans are fuel to my already heated fire.
I reach between us for his belt and undo it quickly as he tugs my shorts down to my knees and I manage to wriggle one foot free. He doesn’t wait, the second I palm him with my hand he nudges inside, filling me completely. I sigh happily, never feeling more aroused than when I’m with him. His lips touch mine gently as he slowly glides in and out. Pushing himself to the hilt and withdrawing to the tip so slowly it’s all I can do to stop myself from mounting him and riding him in a way I know he loves.
I squeal, not expecting it at all but then I melt because he presses his palm against my clit as his finger sinks inside. “Sargent.” I hiss his name but I don’t know if it’s because I want him to stop or I need him to continue. Both are tangling together on this web of pure lust, adrenaline, and arousal he’s brought me to. My head lolls back as he fucks me with his hand, kissing my neck before watching my reaction as I come undone by his touch alone. I choke out a cry with my orgasm. His satisfied, smug, aroused grin only powers my climax further. I can’t handle it all. It’s too much.
I hardly get the chance to think or protest when she drops to her knees, pulls me free of my clothing and sucks me into her mouth. “Jees…” I murmur, placing my hand on her head as she goes to fucking town on my cock. Her warm, wet, willing mouth is so soft and perfect. I lean forward and push gently into her mouth. She sucks, licks, grips, and rolls in all of the right places and then she swallows the head of me and I am so glad I came home when I did. I’m so close, my balls are so fucking tight it’s painful. I want to hold out and fuck her right here, but I also want her to swallow me, not just my dick but everything I give her when I come.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Ezra Conti Heroine: Rose Sinclair Sensuality: 4 Date of Publication: October 11, 2019 Started On: July 19, 2020 Finished On: July 25, 2020
Becoming His Mistress by A. E. Murphy is one of those books that hits every single spot when it comes to my craving for a wholesome romance reading experience. Ms. Murphy takes on a trope that few authors dare write because it would not be well received in the romance community. Most of us would like to ignore the romances featuring cheating and/or adultery themes – some go as far as to say that books which take on this would be a definite no for them. However, I am someone who loves it when authors push those boundaries and give us books that are realistic and provide for an immersive experience in the process. Becoming His Mistress was definitely all that and more.
When 23 year old Rose Sinclair chooses to work for 37 year old Ezra Conti, it is because she believes that she can make a difference. That she brings that quality which makes her the perfect personal assistant. Ezra who is happily married and has a daughter is known as someone who has eyes only for his wife. Even as women attempt to get him to notice them, he is a man who is promised to his one and only and that is how he lives his life. Rose knows that she would have no such problems when it comes to Ezra because he is not her type, and married men would never be her thing.
Ezra is unconvinced that Rose would be the best fit for him, until she convinces him to give her a chance. Six months later, their arrangement is one that works in every single sense. While Rose starts to see Ezra in a whole new light she knows that nothing would come of it and she has no intention of following whatever nonsensical feelings that she has for him every now and then. Furthermore, Ezra has never behaved in an untoward fashion and she is content to be part of his life as things stand, that is until with one searing kiss from Ezra one night, everything changes and leaves them both at an impasse on how to go from there.
While Rose maybe strong enough to walk away from the first kiss, she is not strong enough to withstand the continued onslaught on her senses from the man that Ezra is. Against her best intentions, she gives in, and thus begins the headiest couple of weeks of her life, until the consequences of their actions comes calling. There are no easy answers to the problems that Ezra and Rosie face, and while Rosie loves Ezra wholeheartedly, she loves herself enough to understand that she should not come second to anyone, not even for the love of her life. There is a lot of heartache and pain that these two go through before the ultimate happily ever after.
I am so glad that I stumbled across this book because this was unlike anythingI have read in recent times. Love is not always found in the most convenient of places. Those who have fallen for and given their hearts to people who were not in a place to return that love or maybe act on it would understand this more than those who have never faced such temptation in life. Love is often found where you least look for it and expect it to be found. That is I guess ultimately the best and worst thing about life. The unexpectedness of love, how your feelings can suddenly change towards someone you may have never considered as a potential lover or life partner; all of these factor in when it comes to Becoming His Mistress.
Falling in love with a married man is not something any woman would want to for themselves. And I believe this would be the same the other way around. No woman (except for polyamorous couples I suppose), likes being the third wheel in a relationship; being the other woman. But it happens, a lot more often than we would like to admit. There are many reasons behind it as well, but this is not the time and place to explore the whys and hows. While cheating may never be condoned, it still speaks of the vulnerability of us as humans. The fragility of our emotions. That inherent need in us to feel, belong, and be desired. None of those have easy explanations. That is partly why perhaps this book spoke to me on so many levels as it did with many readers.
I believe that I enjoyed this novel so much because Ms. Murphy did not try to provide miraculous solutions to the challenges that came Ezra and Rosie’s way. The story was realistic even towards the very end, with frank discussions and even fights that stemmed from emotions that could not be smothered just because one may want to cease feeling a certain way. Ezra’s guilt which arose from having fallen in love with another woman plays a huge role in the story, perhaps one reason why the love between Ezra and Rosie did not feel cheap and frivolous in the end. The fact that Ms. Murphy pulled this off without vilifying anyone, that in itself I think is amazing!
Recommended for open minded readers who love sexy, tender, and endearing romances. Thank you Ms. Murphy, for being bold enough to write this.
Final Verdict: Becoming His Mistress is a one of a kind read; there are no words that can adequately describe the feelings that Ms. Murphy manages to invoke with this phenomenal story as it unfolds.
Favorite Quotes
His gray eyes linger on mine and I jump when he pushes a strand of my black hair behind my ear, a tender touch, so sweet and soft. It leaves a burning trail across my skin. “You could never look stupid.” “I can see every fleck of color in your eyes,” I breathe, leaning closer and trying to count the shards of darker gray that cut through the ring of lighter gray. He holds his breath and nibbles slightly on his lower lip as I stare into his eyes like a weirdo. “What are you doing?” he asks, and I put my finger to his soft lips. He pulls it away and absentmindedly kisses the palm. “Wait… are you counting?” I inhale sharply and immediately stop. “No. Not at all. I don’t count. Who does that?” “You were counting.” “Was not.” “Was too.” “I wasn’t.” I so was.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you back,” I say quietly, and he pushes my hair back. “I’m sorry I kissed you at all,” he replies just as quietly, and I know in my heart he means because of how he upset me and not because he didn’t want to kiss me. The look in his eyes is showing me that he still does. I wonder if the look in mine is begging him to kiss me again. I might not say no this time. “Try to sleep.” I press my forehead to his cheek and close my eyes on his command. He tickles my arm and shoulder as I concentrate on the beating of his heart. It lulls me to sleep, my forbidden lullaby.
“Please don’t, there are only so many times I can say no,” I whisper. “Before what?” His own voice is intensely quiet, his eyes on my mouth. “Before what, Rose?” My breath catches in my throat. “Before I say yes.” He pulls my face to his, meeting me in the middle and our bodies and lips collide. I squeak through my closed mouth, startled by the sudden assault, but he pushes me against the door and devours my mouth. His tongue tastes my own when I gasp, and I can’t pull away. My brain is a mass of the desire he projected on me and my body is pulsing with it.
His hands drag across my curves, scraping around my back and hips, grasping at my flesh and holding me tight so I can’t escape. I’m wet. So damn wet. He groans again, pressing his erection into my navel while still kissing me, claiming me like I never have been before. I’ve never felt so out of control before. When he clicks the lock on the handle of the door all bets are off and I lose all sense of myself. I lose all sense of time and what I came here to say to begin with. I forget his life and mine. I forget my morals and his. All I can think about is having him in a way I’ve been telling myself I don’t want him for far too long.
He looks up at me again, and while kissing me softly and tenderly, he reaches for my hair, unwinding the knot so it spills down my back in a thick wave. I groan when he teases it free and starts to remove my shirt until it’s on the floor by his. I lean back on my hands, feeling thoroughly worshipped when he dives and kisses my ribs, hands looking for the zip of my skirt but losing that battle because of how scrunched it is. I stand and find it at the back, undoing it and letting it fall to my ankles. There’s no going back now. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this. I stand in front of him in lacy white underwear and stockings attached to a garter belt. “Fuck,” he breathes, looking down at me, taking time to explore my flesh with his hands. I’ve never felt sexier and more beautiful than I do right now, seeing it mirrored in his eyes. “Keep your heels on.”
Pulling me to the edge of the desk, he lines himself up with me perfectly as my fingers find my clit and start to roll it in fast circles. “No,” he whispers, pulling my hand away and replacing it with his thumb. “You touch yourself when you’re alone and thinking of me. When you’re with me, it’s my job to touch you and get you off.” Oh my God. He starts to sink inside and groans. I ache from his width, but it feels so good. His thumb rolls my clit, using my own juices to make it slick. He watches himself vanish into my body. I’ve never felt more connected to somebody than I do now.
“Kiss me,” I beg, my voice hoarse and wanting. He obliges, fucking my mouth with his tongue as I battle to stay in control of my body. “Not yet,” I breathe, feeling that familiar burning… except this feels more like a tsunami of crackling lava in my womb. My body feels weightless as he hammers into me, holding my body tight to him now. His thumb is no longer teasing my clit, yet I feel the tingles still, building and spiraling. There’s just something about close sex, having a body against yours as he fills you up perfectly. I throw my head back with a moan so loud he yanks me back to his mouth and kisses me until it passes. It takes forever and my body shudders with each powerful wave of my orgasm.
“We’re not doing anything,” he replies, his tone hushed too. The way his breath fans across my sensitive flesh has me gripping the counter for support. “Nothing at all.” His solid length presses against my ass, trapped by the fabric of his boxers. He tugs them down and I feel his skin against mine. “Nothing,” he grits as I close my legs around it, squeezing it between the apex of my thighs. He starts thrusting, finding grip between my pussy lips. My wetness makes him slide back and forth with ease, so he removes his hand and massages my breasts instead. He hits my clit every time and I almost scream with the ecstasy of it. Why does sex feel this good with him? Why do we connect like this?
“Look at me.” My eyes open slowly and find his in the mirror. His large hands massage my swaying breasts and pinch my nipples. “What are we doing?” he asks me breathlessly, his eyes dangerous, his lips terse. “Nothing,” I reply, crying out when a wave of pleasure hits me. I want to come so hard. He cups my throat and pulls me back against his body. It’s a good thing my balance isn’t terrible, though to be honest he’s doing most of the work, including holding me steady. “Exactly. Nothing.”
“Tits,” he croaks, getting closer to the edge every second. “I want to come on your gorgeous fucking tits.” “You sure? I was totally gonna let you come in my mouth.” His eyes fly down to mine, wide and full of longing. I don’t get a chance to take a breath before he’s pushing past my lips again and coming on my tongue with an animalistic growl. I take him all, every ounce of him, salty, sweet, different. But that’s just him, he’s different.
I kiss him deep and slow as I raise my hips and guide his cock to my entrance. “To oblivion, hmm?” he asks, smiling until I slowly sink onto him, taking as much of him as I can. His smile vanishes at this point only to be replaced with such an intense look of complete wonder and awe. “Nobody has ever felt like you.” I rock my hips, kissing his neck and biting his ear as his hands explore and rub every inch of my body that he can reach. I don’t take my time because we don’t have time. I fuck him faster than I ever have, feeling it build in my womb. We come, me first and then him, as always. He always waits until I’m done before he lets himself get there. One of the many things I adore about him.
He turns suddenly, sending water crashing over the bath and onto the tiles. His damp lips from the steam of the hot water touch mine and I almost slip under when he hooks a hand around my back and lifts me to give him easier access to my sex. I gasp when he thrusts inside. My hands grip whatever is available to keep me out of the water. He pulls out just as suddenly so I can turn over and I rest my arms on the sloped back of the bath as he powers into me from behind. Every thrust sends more water out of the bath. He becomes feral, losing control in a way he never has before, driving into me like an animal and not like a man.
“I want you forever. I want to fuck you every single day. I want to taste your sweet lips. I want to fill your womb with my seed and create a life tied to both of us.” He thrusts with each statement, grinding his pelvis against my clit, kissing my neck and whispers the words against my skin. “You’re everything I ever want and need.” “I love you,” I breathe. “I want to be the only woman you ever need.” “You are.” “Then fuck me, prove it, mark me.” I bite into his neck and suck so hard I just know there’s going to be a ring of red there when I lift my head. He cries out and pummels me with his hips, fucking me so furiously the door bangs with each thrust.
I cling to him, claw at him, grip him as I kiss him, devouring him until my lips feel sore but then I just press harder. There’s a fire between us that flows through us both, burning for each other as we tear at clothes until there’s nothing separating us but our will. Mine is fighting for the winning team, he holds back until I hop up on the table and part my thighs. When he eases into me, all bets are off and he fucks me as hard as he did in his office that first time. We both moan, groan, hiss, grasp, sigh… It’s incredible as always.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Historical Romance Series: Devil You Know, #1 Publisher: St. Martin’s Hero: Piers Gedrick Atherton Heroine: Lady Alexandra Lane Sensuality: 3 Date of Publication: August 27, 2019 Started On: June 23, 2020 Finished On: June 28, 2020
How to Love a Duke in Ten Days is the debut book in the Devil You Know series by Kerrigan Byrne. Ms. Byrne came to my notice through her Victorian Rebels series, with her penchant for writing dark heroes, unacceptable in the modern times we live, where everything is dissected to the point where the enjoyment factor is taken away in order to publish books that seeks to placate all the notions and theories of those who shape the discourse of the current times.
Either way, Ms. Byrne is an author I choose to come back to because she delivers heroes of the kind I mentioned, with strong heroines who aren’t afraid of accepting the love of their lives for who they are. Of course love in its truest form, tends to change everyone for the better. How love influences the life of even the coldest of us is a marvelous thing, and that is what I have come to expect in her books, though her most recent works haven’t been hitting that spot exactly.
How to Love a Duke in Ten Days is quite a lengthy read – one more reason to love her work; she does not shy away from giving us stories that prolong the delicious goodness that is usually delivered. The series introduces to readers the lives of the Red Rogues, three women who come across one another at L’Ecole de Chardonne Mont Pèlerin in Switzerland. The three redheads being Lady Alexandra Lane and her dearest friends Francesca Cavendish and Cecelia Teague.
The three of them had gotten away with a lot of things then, pursued the sort of activities that were considered to be out of bounds for ladies. They read books that they were not allowed or supposed to read, they go on adventures of their own making, each on the verge of charting their own course in life when tragedy strikes and Alexandra faces the most heinous of crimes that can be committed against a woman on the cusp of adulthood, changing the course of the lives of the trio in a way they never saw coming.
What happens that night servers as a secret that ties them together through the years that leads up to the current events, where the three who have vowed they would not be taking husbands, finds themselves attending the betrothal of Francesca. However, things take a surprising turn when Alexandra offers to take the place of Francesca instead in marriage, something about Piers Gedrick Atherton, the scarred Duke of Redmayne calling to her.
Alexandra being who she is, wants to face her fears of intimacy head on, but matters of the heart aren’t as simple as she thinks them to be and it is a wild and turbulent ride for both Piers and Alexandra before things take a turn for the right for these two. In the midst of it all, with someone going to extraordinary lengths to target the Red Rogues, the secret that they had sworn to keep all those years back coming to haunt them now, there are no easy answers to be had for everything that unfolds along the way.
I enjoyed How to Love a Duke in Ten Days for the most part. I felt that the story was slow going in some places, especially at the beginning, while juggling the characterisation of multiple characters that Ms. Byrne introduces to readers. It is sometimes the norm for the debut book in the series to take that tangent because this is often where the author has to lay the groundwork for the books that would be published down the line in the series.
I enjoyed Alexandra and Piers, and fell in love with both of them at crucial junctures in the story. Piers, even though he remains clueless about his wife’s past, believing that her fear of intimacy comes from being with a brutish looking man such as himself; he is tender and looks out for her pleasure in every sense. But at the same time, the man who he is deep inside, an alpha who is dominant in nature does show up every once in a while, not to mention his childhood and the trauma associated with it affecting his perception of the fairer sex in a large way.
I fell in love with Alexandra the moment that she cast aside her stoic mannerism in the face of an attack that leaves her with the possibility that Piers might be no more. That was the moment that all her walls came crumbling down, that she showed the depth of her feelings towards her husband, the man who wanted to lay the world at her feet for her enjoyment.
Ms. Byrne does a pretty good job of working through Alexandra’s trauma and there are no miracles which suddenly propels her recovery. It is time as well as the man she calls her husband who helps her, once Piers comes to know of what had actually taken place, lending him that insight to take care of Alexandra’s needs in a way that would allow her to test her boundaries and find her comfort zone and be open to the idea of exploring beyond that. I think that, for the most part was why I enjoyed the story that unfolded. The mystery surrounding the events that takes place as attempts to take the lives of the Red Rogues was just a side story for me, which surprisingly I enjoyed towards its culmination.
While I enjoy the concept of strong and independent heroines, I like the concept of strong and alpha heroes just as much, who do not turn putty in the hands of their beloved from the onset. While Piers was alpha in his way, I am of the opinion that his character was tamped down in a huge way to suit Alexandra’s needs for the most part, and as a result he never really did get to revel in the true joy of being who he is; free to unleash the man within, who has a hunger so deep that it would have been breathtaking to watch unfold. That is the tragedy of this book in my opinion, which could have delivered so much more if not.
Recommended for fans of historical romances that offers rich detail and in-depth characterisation that suits modern tastes of readers today.
Final Verdict: How to Love a Duke in Ten Days delivers a splendid story for the most part, delving into the lives of three rebellious women who defy the norms and conventions to chart their own course in life.
Favorite Quotes
Only when she allowed herself to exhale did he press his mouth fully to hers, coaxing it to soften in sweet, aching drags. She felt the impression of his scar. Sensed his hesitation as it caught against her lower lip. And in that moment, she felt the need to encourage him more urgently than she required reassurance. She lifted her hand from his shoulder to shape it over his jaw. The hair there was wondrously soft, and she tested it with questing fingers as she turned her mouth to press against the tight stratum where his scar interrupted his lip. At this, he went impossibly still. His own breath catching as he awaited her next move.
Beneath the clever ministrations of his fingers, something inside her core melted, twisted with exquisite, rapturous heat. His fingers were so incredibly wet, gliding over every tender recess, leaving sweet trails of pleasure in their wake. Teasing her, driving her to the brink of. Of … Something. Alexandra’s hips lifted from the bed, as a visceral jolt seized her. “Piers?” she gasped. “Let it come, darling,” he breathed. “Don’t fight it. Embrace it.” All his movement centered on the throbbing peak then, awakening from her body an unholy delight.
“It wouldn’t do to spend our honeymoon apart,” she said, turning from him. “But if that is your wish—” He seized her arm, pulling her back into their intimate posture, his breath hot against her ear as his body melded to hers. “Do you have any idea, wife, what ten minutes in your company does to me?” His whisper was almost like a snarl in its animalistic intensity. “Do you really think I can smell your scent, that I can watch you knowing what lies beneath your shapeless dresses, and keep myself from tasting what is mine?”
“I don’t see why … we couldn’t make some sort of arrangement,” she offered breathlessly. “Arrangement?” The word sounded indecent from his voice. “We could … trade favors. Without intercourse. It could … help us to further our acquaintanceship.” And, if they were lucky, they could teach each other a little about trust. “I have one condition,” he murmured into her ear. “What’s that?” “You let me use my tongue.”
“Where did you go?” she whispered gently. “You’re miles away.” “I was visiting the future,” he said casually. “Oh?” Her brows rose. “And what did you see there, pray?” “You,” he murmured, inhaling her vaguely tropical scent. Sweet and citrus. Intoxicating. “And what was I doing?” she inquired. He leaned in as low as he could while maintaining their waltz. “You were screaming my name.” She blanched and would have stumbled had he not such a solid hold upon her. “W-what?” “You were crying out blasphemies to every god you don’t believe in while you came apart in my arms.”
“Piers!” she gasped against his mouth. “I like it when you say my name,” he growled. “I’ll like it even better when you moan it.” “What—what are you doing?” “I’m going to make you come.” “Come.” She whispered the word as though testing it, and the husky, illicit sound of it almost broke his last vestige of restraint. “Like—like you did last night? With your fingers?” Christ, was she trying to kill him? “Is that what you want?” She paused, her short, hard breaths breaking against his. In that moment, he would have given his left eye to see her expression. “I would,” she said breathlessly. “I want…”
He gripped her hips. Ruthlessly pinning her still as he focused wet, rhythmic darts of his tongue across the trembling peak of her clitoris. The sensation of it seized every one of her muscles with such arching force, she’d not realized what his other hand was about to do. Until his finger sank inside her. She clamped her other hand over the first, unable to contain her scream. The pleasure locked her muscles. Held her captive in a dizzying, almost terrifying summit.
Tonight in the dark, a part of him had entered her, if only for the briefest of blissful moments … and she’d drenched him with her sweetest release. At once, his cock was no longer in his trousers. He dipped the finger into his mouth, then another, searching for the trace of her flavor. Leaving moisture on his fingers, he brought them down to his pulsing sex, spreading what he could over the steely length of him. He wanted this to be her hand. Soft and small where his was large and rough. Or her mouth. Hot and wet and welcoming.
The climax began as a burn in his spine, spilling down his entire frame like an avalanche. Inevitable. Unstoppable. Overpowering. As the shocks of release became surges, he made a sound only an animal could have. Bringing her drawers down to his hips, he spilled liquid heat on the snowy-white linen. The sight of it inflamed him further as pulse after pulse was pulled from his very core for such a length of time, he wondered if it would ever cease.
He was like a human incinerator, immolating her with his carnal heat. Alexandra felt light-headed, not only disoriented by the swiftness of his kiss, but by the change in him. This was no patient, roguish seduction. This man grinding her against his very powerful, very naked body heeded no rules and brokered no patience. He’d become a creature of raw, animalian need.
Alexandra looked down to where she straddled his thighs, where the formidable shape of his sex tented the sheet. “I—I don’t know how to please you,” she confessed, suddenly daunted. He gazed up at her with a patience so tender, so genuine, it released a swell of emotion inside her. “Don’t you know by now, Alexandra, that everything you do pleases me? To look at you pleases me. To touch and kiss you pleases me. The scent and taste and shape of you is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. Anything you do beyond that…” His words died on an indrawn hiss as she reached between them and uncovered him, curling her fingers around the jutting base of his erection. It was warmer than she imagined. Hotter, even, than his fevered body.
He dipped his finger lower, wickedly testing where their bodies were joined, gathering the abundant moisture there and swirling it around her throbbing hood. Her lips tore from his as her spine arched and flexed, her head dropping back on her shoulders as a hoarse, guttural cry broke from her. She convulsed around him, over him, her sex milking at him in voluptuous, rhythmic waves. Her unbound hair brushed the small of her back, and her clasping fingers tore at his own locks as she shivered and shuddered in a long, extravagant release.
He slid into her with one fluid, beautifully deep motion, settling into another deliberate, controlled rhythm. His alert eyes searched her face, gauged her expressions. She felt his hesitancy. His lingering restraint, and she brought her hands around his waist and lower, pressing him deeper. “More,” she whispered, feeling him tense, seeing the question in his eyes. “More,” she repeated, lifting her hips to meet his. His thrusts quickened, driving deeper, pressing her higher. She loved this, the softness of the mattress at her back, the hardness of him on top of her. She felt safe. She felt … glorious.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Paranormal Romance Series: Phenomenal Fate, #1 Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Jonas Cantrell Heroine: Ginny Lynn Sensuality: 4 Date of Publication: March 17, 2020 Started On: June 20, 2020 Finished On: June 21, 2020
Reborn Yesterday is Ms. Bailey trying her hand at a new sub-genre in romance. I have to say that Ms. Bailey takes to this change exceptionally well, crafting characters that are to die-for and bringing to the forefront a love that knows not the bounds of time nor reason. The debut book in the Phenomenal Fate series, Reborn Yesterday is beguiling in the way it is told, with Ms. Bailey’s talent in delivering panty-drenching sex scenes enmeshed deeply within the story that unfolds.
25 year old Ginny Lynn is the funeral home director at P. Lynn Funeral Home in Coney Island. It is through her job that she “meets” Jonas Cantrell; the extraordinarily handsome deceased man ending up on her embalming table. When Jonas “wakes up”, it is to find himself at the receiving end of a joke that his friends play on him every birthday, with this year’s prank changing the course of his life in a way that he never saw coming.
Humans are not supposed to know of the existence of the likes of Jonas, vampires who hug the shadows of the night close to them. For the most part, Jonas has never had trouble walking away from a human, wiping their memories of him when it comes to that crucial moment. However, with Ginny, none it works the way he plans it, and before he knows it, Ginny is in his life; his to love, his to protect, his to call mate for life.
Romance readers who have ventured into the urban-fantasy genre or read paranormal romances must have gone through their fair share of worlds built around vampires, ghouls, angels, and whatnot. Ms. Bailey’s take on the vampire world carries itself differently, though the basics of vampirism itself remains the more or less the same. I found myself totally enchanted and intrigued, and I loved every single second of being part of the journey that was Jonas and Ginny’s towards their happily ever after.
I loved Jonas – no questions about it. I fell head over heels in love with both protagonists early on in the story and there was no looking back for me. Jonas has a savagery to him that is tamped down, and yet at the same time, there is nothing he would not do, no stone that he would leave unturned, if harm were to befall his one and only.
At the same time, Ginny, who is thrust into a world she is clueless about, having never led a life of excitement up till that point, finds herself drawn to the danger and thrill of it all, her fate being entwined with that of Jonas from the beginning. If I had to use one word to describe this book I would choose the word exquisite; Reborn Yesterday had everything going for it in all the ways it matters.
Recommended for fans of Tessa Bailey, fans of vampire romances, and fans of romances in general. This was beautifully delivered from start to finish.
Final Verdict: There is a tender savagery to Reborn Yesterday that is in direct contrast with and yet meshes well with what Ms. Bailey delivers in the new sub-genre of romance she has taken to writing like a fish to water. Keep em’ coming Ms. Bailey!
Favorite Quotes
Their tongues greeted each other like star-crossed lovers, demanding and bereft over their separation. Ginny’s eyes flew open to find the same wonder blazing in Jonas’s, before his lids drooped along with hers, the kiss taking over, sensations making demands and hunger sinking in its claws. At the next slide of their tongues, Ginny’s knees drew up involuntarily and Jonas rolled forward with a growl, locking their lower bodies together. Pressing. Straining. The vast difference in their strength was obvious. As it was also obvious that he tried valiantly to hold his in check, his body shaking with the effort. Unfortunately, Ginny’s body couldn’t seem to stop tempting that inhuman strength. Her inner thighs rode up and down his hips and thighs, sobs catching in her throat, releasing into his hot, seeking mouth. Lord, his mouth. It was at once skilled and frantic, like he knew damn well what he was about, but couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of lust. Yes. God, this was lust.
Their hands wrestled above her head, only to be pinned by Jonas. His hips rocked, the hard ridge of his sex riding to the start of her feminine flesh—and pressing down. Right there. Even through the material of her dress, she caught enough friction to cry out—and the threadbare sound did something to Jonas. He leaned harder into the kiss, befuddling her senses with long, sensual slants of hard lips over soft, animal groans kindling in his strong chest, his fingers locked so tightly with Ginny’s above her head, she knew his willpower waned. Good. More. Good. Never stop.
With a growl of pure hunger, Jonas lowered his head and licked the trickle of blood from her neck, bringing it into his mouth and swallowing the way someone might with a fine wine. Almost immediately, his body fell forward on top of her. He caught himself with shaking arms right before he could crush her. A throttled rendition of her name left him. What was that sound? There was a muted throbbing between them and at first she thought it came from her own rollicking heartbeat, but no…no, it came from Jonas. He balanced on one hand, tearing at the left side of his chest with the other. Was his heart beating? “Mate,” he gasped, fangs elongating another fraction of an inch. “Mate.”
He leaned down and licked the side of her neck, long and slow. “Mine,” he breathed, planting a hot, open-mouthed kiss over her pulse. “Inevitably, undeniably mine. May God help us all.” Ginny braced herself for pain—and she got it. The shocking sting made her body jolt and twist, but a flood of numbing warmth ensued so quickly afterward, she stilled. As if on command. Stilled and felt the sharp fangs sinking into her. Heard Jonas’s muffled exclamation against her skin, followed by an exultant groan. She’d been caught. Possessed.
A volcano of bliss erupted inside of her, trapping a gasp in her throat. His words stabbed at her composure like little daggers and she bore down, prolonging the rush of relief by grinding up and back on his thickness. “Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord,” she whimpered, raking her nails down his back. “It feels so good.” “Remember that feeling,” he said, pressing his bared teeth to her cheek. “You only get it from your mate. Ever.”
He wore jeans. Dark ones, much nicer than the pair he’d donned the night they met. Along with boots, a white shirt and an overcoat of soft, chocolate brown. Flowers. There were flowers in his hand. For her. “Ginny,” he breathed, stopping in front of her. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She nodded. Or shook her head. Hard to be sure. He handed her the flowers, then cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheekbones with adoring sweeps of his thumbs. Their lips met and they both shuddered, the cellophane crinkling beneath her grasping fingers. Ginny didn’t have to look around the room to know they were the center of attention and she couldn’t have cared less anyway. She only saw Jonas.
His muscles bunched on a rasp of her name, his fangs slicing out. “Need.” Knowing exactly what he meant, she relinquished her right hand’s grip on the bedclothes, sank it into his hair and instinctively drew him to her thigh. “Yours. It’s yours. I’m yours.” With an expression rife with possession and unholy thirst, Jonas pressed a second finger into her body and bit down hard on her inner thigh, groaning brokenly at the taste of her. Ginny whipped headlong into an orgasm. It was all the more brutal and beautiful for its unexpectedness.
He stroked into her deep, the new angle allowed that slick, thick part of him unfettered access to that spot—and she couldn’t move her hips to meet him or grind up, she simply had to take it. There was a loud sound coming from a distant land and it took her several guesses before she realized it was the entire bed rebounding off the wall. The wildness of it was her undoing. Or maybe it was watching Jonas sink his fangs into the small of her wrist, followed by the further swelling and jerking of his flesh inside her. Knowing he was close to finding unimaginable pleasure after a lifetime of going without. His body stiffened at the same time as hers, his mouth released her wrist and fingers clutched at skin eagerly, pulling one another’s bodies closer any way they could.
Her thighs wrapped around his hips automatically, her toes digging into his taut backside. No choice but to cling, squeeze him between her legs. Her core was so sensitive, so exposed. “Jonas, Jonas, Jonas.” “You don’t want to make love, Ginny.” His teeth raked over her nipple, tonguing the sting while he made blistering eye contact. “You want to fuck, don’t you?”
“I’m incapable of denying you anything. Anything.” He reached down and fisted his thickness, notching the smooth head inside of her—and ramming himself home to the tune of Ginny’s strangled cry. For a moment, Jonas said nothing, his mouth open against her ear. Then, “You’re even tighter when you’re pissed.” A tickle roared downward in her belly, her thighs jerking violently as the orgasm whipping through her. “Oh my God.” She squirmed, desperate for an anchor, a branch to grab onto while being shot down the raging rapids. “Oh my God.”
He slammed his mouth down on top of hers, kissing her with the passionate brutality she was starving for, the door rebounding hard off the frame behind her. Bambambambambam.“I’m sorry, my love,” he said hoarsely. “My fucking life.” Ginny pitched over the edge so fast and so hard, her climax was almost painful. Her thighs shook around Jonas’s hips, her body arching off the door, her scream echoing off the bathroom walls. He pressed his forehead to hers, looking her in the eye as he followed her off the cliff, hips jerking wildly, Ginny on his lips. Behind him, the bathroom bulbs shot sparks and went out, leaving them in the barest light where it crept in from beneath the door.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Romantic Suspense Series: Cold Justice: Crossfire, #3 Publisher: Self-Published Hero: Payne Novak Heroine: Charlotte Blood Sensuality: 3 Date of Publication: June 08, 2020 Started On: June 13, 2020 Finished On: June 14, 2020
Cold Wicked Lies is the third book in the Cold Justice: Crossfire series by Toni Anderson. Ms. Anderson is one of my go-to authors for romantic suspense because, for the most part, she always strikes the right balance when it comes to juggling romance and suspense, delivering emotive and intelligent reads that speaks to the heart.
In Cold Wicked Lies, highly skilled operative and HRT leader Payne Novak finds himself forced to work with FBI negotiator Charlotte Blood in trying to end a standoff between law enforcement and a sealed off compound that is an implosion waiting to happen. While Charlotte tries to defuse the situation by doing what she does best, Payne who finds it difficult to not take charge in any given situation is forced to take a step back and watch Charlotte work her magic.
Not being a believer in the soft tactics, Payne is in for a surprise where he finds himself filled with admiration for Charlotte and all that she stands for, not to mention the slow simmering attraction that flares to life between them, which needs very little to ignite into undeniable passion.
While the danger inside the compound mounts, it is up to Charlotte and Payne to sift through the seemingly straightforward picture that emerges at first from the ground, with one wrong move having the potential to tip the scales in the wrong direction.
I loved Cold Wicked Lies for many reasons. I found both Charlotte and Novak to be refreshing in a way that was endearing. While the antagonism between the two is tangible at the beginning of the story, it is evident as the story progresses that they are both skilled professionals, able to put their personal feelings aside and work for the best outcome possible when it comes to their jobs. That won points from me for both of them.
On the other hand, I loved how Toni brought to light the reverse “sexism” that can exist in society. Whereby we women can judge men based on their looks, the way they carry themselves etc. when we as a gender cry foul at them for doing the same thing to us. Perhaps it is true what they say, we do become what we hate if we are not careful about where our personal prejudices take us.
I definitely love how Toni can create such strong and independent heroines without sounding preachy about it. She manages to drive home well intended messaging across to her readers without us wanting to turn our e-readers off. Because lets face it, we are bombarded enough as it is on social media and all available platforms about what we should be thinking, how we should be thinking, and where that thinking should lead us to. Freedom of conscience, anyone?
I also loved the angst and the surprising twists and turns that the story took, along with the heart thumping variety of mind blowing scenes of passion in the mix. A few well placed words here and there, with deft touches in terms of characterization, and Toni manages to do what most erotic novels fail to bring out in readers; the ability to feel for their characters and be the moment right alongside with them as the tension mounts, the heat builds, and the explosions happen.
While I would have loved to read a bit more on the pasts of Charlotte and Novak, nevertheless, I enjoyed Cold Wicked Lies for what it delivered in spades, leaving me with the urge to read the next one in the series, right after.
Final Verdict: Cold Wicked Lies is Ms. Anderson just as I love her books; informative and intriguing, featuring relatable and earthy characters, while delivering a well paced and sensually charged read!
Favorite Quotes
He angled his mouth across hers, and she opened willingly, tangling her tongue with his, absorbing him. He wished he could capture the feeling in a bottle and keep it with him forever. That silky volcanic heat. The sharp edge of teeth, the sweep of her tongue into his mouth. His pulse crackled along his veins. His hand found its way to her breast, molding the cotton of her shirt over the perfect handful of flesh. He reveled in the hard press of her nipple against his palm. Blood headed south, and his dick was so hard he was in danger of passing out. She brushed against him and holy shit, that felt better than the past five years of his sex life.
Her fingers wrapped around the length of him, and she made a little pleased humming sound that for some reason made his cheeks burn. He cupped her ass, rubbing her clit against his hard length, and feeling her push against him. “Wanna be fucked against the wall, Charlotte?” he whispered. His hand slipped along her seam, his fingers easing inside and finding her hot and ready. “Or on the bed?” “Both,” she whispered back, taking a gentle bite of his ear lobe. His knees almost dissolved.
The effect of slow, sensual thrusts dragged out the erotic sensation, and the need to climax built inside him in small incremental steps up a very long spiral staircase. He wanted to give her endless pleasure. Wanted to make this good for her. His competitive spirit was finding an outlet he hadn’t thought of before. He didn’t simply want to have great sex with Charlotte Blood. He wanted to be the best lover she’d ever had.
She started to make a sound, and he kissed her harder, holding her breath captive in his lungs, swallowing her groan, feeling her shatter around him a second time. It broke him. He drove harder, but the noise was too loud, so he pulled them away from the wall, planted his feet wide apart and held her in place, as he pounded into her deeper and harder.
His eyes never left her face, searching it for clues as to what worked for her and what didn’t. Spoiler alert. It all worked for her. The perfect complement of fullness and friction. She gripped his ass and pulled him even closer, fighting him every time he tried to retreat. It turned into a beautiful synchrony of frenzy, and an orgasm ripped through her. She opened her mouth to scream, and Novak planted his hand over her mouth as he pounded harder. The lack of springs in the mattress meant they were almost silent, and she wasn’t sure she’d have cared even if they hadn’t been.
Format: E-Book Read with: Kindle Paperwhite Length: Novel Genre: Contemporary Romance Series: Standalone Publisher: Harlequin Hero: Eliot Buchanan Heroine: Tifaine Brandon Sensuality: 3 Date of Publication: June 24, 1986 Started On: May 29, 2020 Finished On: May 29, 2020
Published in 1986, An Unbreakable Bond by Robyn Donald is not for the fainthearted. Featuring a hero that borders on and ventures into the territory of cruelty, with a heroine who stands her ground, as confused as she is by the tidal wave of desire that clouds everything between them, this is Harlequin as I love their titles.
22 year old Tifaine Brandon (Tiffany) meets Eliot Buchanan not under the best of circumstances, with Eliot thinking her to be the mistress of his uncle. The disdain that Eliot feels for her partly results from how she makes him feel; unhinged in a way that he has never been around any woman in his life.
With a secret that Tiffany holds close to her heart, Eliot has no way of knowing the truth, even as the clash of wills results in scenes a lot of readers would find it hard to accept. At the same time, this rollercoaster ride of emotions and the constant upheaval that is a given when it comes to stories by Ms. Donald makes it hard to put this down. Fact that I finished this in one day is testament to that.
With all the misgivings I had, especially in relation to a particular scene which I will not detail here, I still loved the escape the story provided me with. The ruthless nature of Eliot drew me in as much as the proudly defiant nature of Tiffany’s did. The passion and sizzling attraction between the two is often thick enough to cut through with a knife, and that was as invigorating and heady as the rest of the components of the story as they came together.
In a way, what made Eliot’s cruelty “worthwhile” was the fact that he actually admitted to what had or almost did happen at a certain point in time in the story. He abashedly points out to how out of control Tiffany makes him feel, and the depths to which his emotions go when it comes to her. Somehow I understood where he was going with that; great passion does not allow for placidity when it comes to emotions. If you want peaceful, you go with the person who makes you feel as little as possible.
Recommended for fans of older and vintage Harlequin titles. This is not everyone’s cup of tea, especially in this day and age.
Final Verdict: In An Unbreakable Bond, Robyn Donald gives readers a tale that consumes the whole of you, even as you are reluctant to give it your all.
Favorite Quotes
His eyes blazed into flames as his mouth came down again, forcing her lips apart so that he could explore the depths of her mouth in a kiss so unlike any other she had ever received that she thought she might faint. Indeed, her knees did buckle. He made a noise deep in his throat and shifted one arm so that it supported her. His mouth burned down the stretched arc of her throat. The weakness in her limbs spread until she was trembling. Deep inside her strange sensations sprang into life; they flamed fiercely, heating her blood so that a flush ran like fire across her skin.
‘No,’ she gasped, using her hand to push at him. ‘Don’t be silly.’ He too was breathing heavily, his expression set as he used her hand to pull her out of the chair and into his arms. He looked—out of control, she thought with a tremor of fear. But Eliot didn’t ever lose control. And she wished that she knew more about men because perhaps then she would understand his actions. Fear was swept away as he groaned and bent his head to capture her mouth in a kiss so seducingly sweet that she could not resist him. ‘Relax,’ he muttered, his breath warm in her mouth. ‘I swear I’m not going to hurt you. I swear—oh God, you torment me…’
Completely unconscious of what she did, she slid her arms around his shoulders, holding him firmly. A moment ago she had been furious, his black enchantment of her senses only adding to her rage. Now a strange and awkward tenderness filled her. She didn’t know what to do. ‘Oh, God,’ he muttered, his face drawn. He looked exhausted, almost haunted; as she watched his eyes closed and he began to kiss her, tiny little kisses across the high line of her cheeks, tracing out the contours of her face with his mouth. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’ The words were barely understandable, his voice was so thick.
A Maldivian's Passion for Romance 