Release Blitz: The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent! #5StarReview #Excerpt #Teasers @SaffronAKent @GiveMeBooksBlog
When I read the blurb for this book I knew I had to have it, anything forbidden that has a warning with cheating in it, and I'm already sold. And right from the beginning of the book the angst has already started because you have no clue what's up with this girl. She's naturally mysterious and that transfers over well in to the writing, I was immediately smitten with this book because the story was very magnetic and full of curiosity right from the start. The Unrequited forces you to hunker down and get cozy, because once you start you won't come up for air until you reach the end.
Thomas Abrams and Layla Robinson are two scorching souls who radiate from their forbidden desires and beg you to come along on their deviant journey. It's relentless, exhausting and so deliciously addictive, I WANT MORE. I NEED MORE.
Thomas is a dark poet of sorts, a college professor who is as mysterious as he is broody, and Layla is a young inquisitive college student who is immediately drawn to this man, it's almost as if she took some sort of potion because she is under his spell whether he wants her to be or not. And he is definitely unavailable.
These are two lost and lonely souls who see their own pain in each other, and when the slow burn of their depravity comes in to fruition, it's one of the most erotically torturous things I've read in a long time! There's this one scene that will leave you breathless, and I'm not even kidding, It's one of my favorite scenes. The way Thomas talks to Layla is dirty, so dirty, and he teases her relentlessly. This author knows how to build you up slowly and slap you in the face when she's done with you. My heart was beating faster and faster right along with these characters and I wanted to stay lost in their world for as long as possible. You are mean, Saffron Kent! But I loved every minute.
I should feel guilty for liking this, because Layla is all kinds of naive and makes rash decisions like they're going out of style, and Thomas is knowingly taking advantage of her but, I DON'T CARE. Why? Because it's fiction and I'm throwing out the rule book because I like it. I like how these two make decisions based on their insecurities, I like how they play little games with each other to take away the pain. I like it all!
This story was so many things to me, it's erotic, rude, mesmerizing, hot and cold, fascinating and dark, and bright, so bright! If you need a book to wake you up THIS is the book. I fell in love with these characters harder than I thought I would, and I loved the originality in the writing. This was my first book by this author but it won't be the last!
Read An Excerpt
I’m hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the blame for it later.
I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.
Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
“Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.
He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”
He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”
Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
“H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”
About The Author
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book world.
I'm a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you'll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.
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