☆✮ My Review ✮☆
☆I received an ARC via the author in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!!☆
OH.MY.GOD. What the hell did I just read?!
Lili, you are one torturous woman!! How do you do it?! To raise the stakes like you did?!
I know that you had asked us reviewers not to post spoilers so I will try my hardest to abide your wishes.
But, I got to tell ya:
by reading this!!
So the story:
Those of you who have been keeping up with this serial series, you know the drill: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". Simply said.
With three sons down, who will be next? Will Jase find out Juliette's true idenity? How will he react? Will he forgive her?
Will Juliette get that much closer to the ultimate prize? Annihilation of the Gypsy Brothers MC?
And with Dornan getting that much closer to the truth, will this possibly be Juliette's last score to settle? Or her demise?
A DEFINITE MUST READ that kept me on my toes with its twists and turns and heart pounding action!!
Gah!! I need book five, Three Years, ALREADY!!
-Overall : 9
-Plot : 9
-Writing : 9
-Characters : 9
-Cover : 9.5
☆✮ Excerpt ✮☆
nbmjkto be sorry for anything,” I mumble, shaking my head. “Just don’t talk about Elliot like that, okay? If not for him, I really would be dead.”
“Well,” Jase says, his entire demeanor gentler and more cautious as he continues to glance at my wrists. “I suppose I should be thanking him, then.”
I smile sadly.
“I mean, I won’t thank him,” Jase adds quickly. “That fucker wants to kill me. But for you. That was a good thing he did.”
“Yeah,” I say sheepishly. “Well, he knows how I feel—” I catch my faux pas — “felt about you. It’s the reason he broke up with me.”
Jase’s eyes light up at that, his eyebrows practically touching the ceiling above us. “He broke up with you because of me?”
“I kept calling out your name in bed,” I explain. Jase laughs a low, throaty sound that makes me blush as I realize what I’ve just said. “Not like that.”
Jase is still laughing and choking on a mouthful of vodka at the same time. “Are you sure?” he manages in between laughing and coughing.
I roll my eyes. “Nightmares, Jason. Not the other thing.”
His smile vanishes and he straightens again, any bit of humor or lightness completely wiped from his face. Idiot! I fervently wish I hadn’t said what I said.
“Aw, fuck,” he says, frowning again. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry,” I admonish him with a small smile, trying to diffuse the tension that’s once again settled on us like a pillow held forcefully to the face. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Only me, and my lies on top of more lies.
He doesn’t seem convinced. “I do.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t. You almost got killed by your own family trying to save me. There’s no shame in that.”
There it is again. We’ve been dancing around that afternoon, that day when I almost died, that five or so hours of horror and pain.
“I should have fought harder,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I go over it in my head all the time, you know. I could have taken the gun and shot him. I could have gotten us out somehow.”
I place a steady hand on his knee. He’s wearing thick denim jeans, but I can still feel the warmth of his skin radiating underneath.
“There was nothing either of us could have done differently.” It’s taken me years and many breakdowns to realize that neither of us were to blame for what Dornan orchestrated that day. I’ll forever regret that I couldn’t somehow save my father and the woman he loved, but I forgave myself for being powerless in the wake of our collective destruction around the same time that the abortionist was sucking the remnants of a product of rape from my womb.
I’m momentarily transported back to the past, to the moment the mask was lifted from my face a little under six years ago, the moment the doctor smiled underneath her surgical mask and told me it was done. I’d been emptied of their sins, painfully absolved, but it was still many years before I’d been filled again with the hope of my vengeance against them.
So when Jase clamps his grip on my hand and squeezes tightly, it’s almost as if I’m falling, tumbling back into the present to sit beside him, my hand at his knee, an angry film covering each of his eyes.
“I should have killed them all the first chance I got,” he says, his face twisted into a mask of rage and pain.
I lean forward, placing my hand on his hot cheek, and when he doesn’t recoil, I smile.
“There’s still time,” I whisper softly, to the first boy I ever loved.
☆✮ About the Author ✮☆
Lili writes dark erotica and NA. Her debut serial novel, Seven Sons, is due to be released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband, good coffee, hanging at the beach and running. She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.