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☆✮ My Review ✮☆
☆ I received an ARC via Love Between the Sheets in exchange for an honest review. Thank you! ☆
What if your childhood tormentor turned out to be your savior?
Melanie Lane is an up and coming author who needs to finish her next book. She takes up an offer to stay at a beach rental, from bestie and ex-co worker, Leah, and from there she has a very racy encounter from a blast from a past--- Leah's "Butt head," stepbrother, Melanie's very own 'tormentor,' Shane Becker.
From there, the two rehash past discretions, feelings, and kept secrets and are taken on an emotional and steamy roller coaster down memory lane from their past, and now to their present and futures.
This is my first Allie Gail read and I found it very cute and easy to read. There's a fine line between love and hate, and both Leah and Shane have that trait in spades.
It was delightful watching their conflicting emotions for each other fester over the years and time jump forward to current day and see how things pick up and go from there. In a hurricane, more less.
An inspiring tale of second chances at love.
☆✮ Excerpt ✮☆
Forcing my attention back to the manuscript, I am just drafting one of the pivotal scenes in the story when Shane comes strolling in. Guess it was stupid of me to expect any privacy. He stands quietly behind me and I can sense that he’s reading what I’ve typed so far, but I am determined not to pay him any attention.
That is, until I hear him snort a laugh.
Irritated, I turn my head to glare at him. “Something funny?”
“Come on, Felony. You can do better than that.”
“I thought we agreed to retire that name. And what are you talking about?”
He points to the screen. “Is this supposed to be realistic? I could drown in the bottomless depths of your eyes…give me a break. What guy has said that to you, ever?”
I narrow my eyes. Am I really supposed to accept literary criticism from him? The guy who once put a stink bomb vial in my backpack?
“It isn’t believable,” he explains, leaning across the desk on his arms. His face is unnervingly close to mine.
“What makes you say that?”
“Let’s look at this logically. Judging from what I’ve read, it appears your two characters are in the throes of passion. Sex is already imminent. They’re about to get hot and heavy. Am I correct so far?”
“All right. Well, first of all, at this point the guy would no longer be thinking rationally and intellectually. By now he’s already deferred complete authority to his other head, if you get my drift. The last thing he’s going to be doing is reciting poetry. It would be like trying to solve calculus equations while masturbating.”
I blink, surprised. Holy cow, did he just use the word masturbate?
“Second of all, men are very forward and direct to begin with. Trust me, we are not the complex creatures you think we are. If you come across one who’s spouting off verbosity like that, you should probably run the other way.”
“Verbosity?” I can’t help but smile. There’s another word I never would have pictured the Pain using.
“You’re trying too hard with this. Cut out the ostentatious prose. Keep it simple.”
“But simple is boring,” I argue.
“Is it?” Running an index finger along his bottom lip thoughtfully, he says in a low, impassive voice, “Melanie, I’d love nothing more than to bury my cock in your sweet little pussy right now.”
Fuck me sideways, did he actually just say that to me? I’m not sure but I think lightning may have struck my panties. The electric current flowing down to the most intimate part of me is almost painful. My startled heart flutters wildly before picking up the beat in double-time. I stare into his smoky eyes, completely and utterly speechless.
“Tell me. What sort of reaction did those words elicit from you?”
“Uh…” Oh my God, I’ve forgotten how to words. I mean talk! Gah!
“That’s what I thought.” The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “See? Simplicity.”
Struggling to regain my composure, I turn my attention back to the monitor in front of me. “So that’s what he should say? I don’t know. It seems so…base.”
“Sex is base. If you try to make it anything other than that, it won’t sound natural.”
I contemplate this. While what he says may be true, I’m not sure it fits here. I’m not writing erotica, after all. It’s just a love scene in a romantic suspense novel. “I think something like that might be a bit too graphic.”
“You can always go a shade more subtle with it. Take the crudeness down a notch.”
He’s still watching me intently and I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. This is quite a riveting conversation. I should let well enough alone, but of course I don’t. I’m rather enjoying this. “What do you suggest?”
“Hmm...” The errant finger trails languidly across his bottom lip again and my eyes follow it in fascination. “He would probably start by telling her what he wants to do to her.”
“And what does he want to do to her?”
“It’s your story, Miss Lane. What do you suppose he wants to do to her?”
“That’s a very good question.” I watch the movement of his finger hypnotically. “The problem is, I’m not sure.”
“I would imagine that the first thing he wants to do is strip her down to nothing. He wants to hold that beautiful body close to his. Feel her soft breasts against his skin. Let her touch him, so she knows the extent of his arousal.”
Dear Lord, it’s getting hot in here. “And then?”
“This is only speculation, you understand. But I would also imagine that he is aching to spread her thighs and slide his fingers inside, to find out if she’s as wet and ready as he believes her to be. Now we get the female character’s point of view. Is she wet, Melanie? Is she ready to be taken?”
“I imagine she must be,” I rasp. “Yes.”
“But this action distracts him from his ultimate goal, of course.”
My face might be flushed, but my hands feel ice cold when I clench them in my lap. “How so?”
“Now he knows he has to taste her.” The dark eyes become cloudy as he slides across the desk, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “He can’t prevent himself from teasing her with his tongue. Just enough to bring her close to the brink, so he can feel her thighs clenching and quivering against his shoulders. He needs for her to lose control. To forget every name in the world but his. He wants to hear her pleading for him to take her, fuck her, hard and fast and now. Now.” That last word is whispered.
I wet my lips nervously. “And does he?”
“Oh, yes.” His smile is slow and deliberate. “He most certainly does.”
☆✮ Teasers ✮☆
☆✮ About the Author ✮☆
Born and raised in small-town Alabama, Allie Gail currently resides in the panhandle of Florida with her schmexy blue-eyed hubby, where they are both held hostage by two evil entities disguised as cats. (If you’re reading this – send help!! Oh, and tuna. Send tuna.) She has always been a diehard fan of romance and The Firefly Effect is her sixth novel falling into that genre, though her first attempt at anything resembling erotica. So if it falls beneath your expectations, you can blame the feline poop machines for killing the mood.
When she isn’t obsessively typing, deleting and re-typing the same word for hours on end, Allie can usually be found snuggled up to her hubby watching Netflix, helping out with the family business or playing online RPG games while indulging her hopeless addiction to anything chocolate.
She loves tattered old books, scented lotion, thunderstorms and retro horror movies, but has an irrational fear of that life-sized creepy yellow puppet from H.R. Pufnstuf. Because anything with a head that big just has to be up to no good.
In other words, Allie’s a certifiable nut job.
But hey, at least her socks usually match.
☆✮ Giveaway! ✮☆