Some say love can be an addiction. Others say it’s the thing that makes life worth living.
Let me tell you everything I know about love…
Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind. Love is a game, a chase. A thrill. Love is wild and war-like, and every man and woman must fight for themselves.
At least that’s how it was for me.
A high-priced virgin call girl by the time I started college, I was addicted to love and to sex.
Even though I’ve never had either.
I controlled love, played it, and held the world in the palm of my hands.
Then I fell down from those highs, and I’m being blackmailed for all my mistakes, forced to keep secrets from everyone, except the only guy I don’t regret.
Trey.
With all the other women, I knew what they were. They were temporary.
They were pills, they were bottles, they took away all the pain, and numbed the awful memories that wore away at my ragged, wasted heart.
Until I met Harley.
She’s the only girl I ever missed when she walked away. But now she’s back in my life, every day, and there are no guarantees for us, especially since I don’t know how to tell her my secrets. What happened to my family.
All I know is she’s the closest I’ve ever come to something real, and I want to feel every second of it.
4.5 Thrillingly Captivating Stars
A call girl who is a virgin, that can't be
right, right? WRONG! Meet Harley or Layla, her call girl name.
Harley was exposed to sex very early on in
her adolescence. Raised by a woman (that’s right, I cannot bring myself to refer
to her as a mother) Barb, whose sole focus after her failed marriage with
Harley’s father, became bedding men as a means of inflating her self-confidence. Instead of a mother, Harley had a sister who
emphasized the importance of using beauty to get what one wants. Yup, worst
mother award goes to Barb.
Harley was a pawn for Barb to flaunt and
set up as she saw fit. Harley had no control over her life, thus when Cam, aka
her pimp entered her life it was Good-Bye Perfect Daughter Role and Hello Call Girl
Life. Cam offered Harley a new life as Layla, a girl who held the power to bring
men to their knees and brought them pleasure without even having sex.
However, a client’s wife threatens to
expose Harley’s other life. An unravelling that would embarrass/pose harm to her
mother’s career. Why does Harley care what happens to Barb? Well that is the
type of kindred soul Harley is. With a tad bit of brainwashing, she has herself
convinced Barb raised her the best she could and the way she was raised was
appropriate. Due to Harley’s kind heart/guilty conscious she accepts the
blackmailing, forcing herself to attend Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA).
In addition she must write and reveal all her sexcapade encounters (or
lack thereof) as a teenage call girl - “Memoirs of a Teenage Sex Addict”. Although she is
still a virgin, the blackmail and the SLAA meetings have Harley convinced she is
nothing more than a whore and love is dirty.
A chance encounter during an act of
rebellion on Harley’s part, getting a tattoo, she meets a yummy tattoo artist.
Trey Westin works at No Regrets tattoo shop (fitting name don’t you think?).
Chemistry ignites between these two off the bat leading to a steam filled night
with kissing and touching but no sex. Then fate plays a card of hearts throwing
these two together at the same SLAA meeting. Trey chooses to attend this meeting
unlike Harley who is forced. He holds his emotional baggage, but through his
tattoos offers glimpses into the pain that is pent up inside.
"With Trey, a tattoo
is never just a tattoo. It's a symbol, it's a message, it's the way he
expresses the things he won't say."
A man as broken and flawed as Harley, but
whose charisma etched personality, as well as seductive physical features,
attracts you and pulls you in like a strong tide until you are taken under and sink
deep for him.
Both souls have been moulded by tribulations
in their dysfunctional family lives. Trey craved an escape from his internal demons
through sex. Harley thrived on having the control to bring men pleasure rather
than being another puppet.
Neither is proud of their pasts and battle
on a daily basis with their guilt. Yet
together they set out to help keep one another on track to recovery. Trey has
an extra bit of help from his kick ass therapist who gives it to him straight
with no bullshit. He pushes Trey to open up to Harley about his demons, to allow
her to decide if she accepts him, not him deciding for them both. The
understanding Harley has for Trey and vice versa opens one another’s eyes to
their self-worth and opens themselves to the idea of being loved.
“I’ve given her my
bleeding, beating heart, and she’s holding it in her hands, and she’s not
crushing it, she’s not destroying it. She’s doing the opposite. She’s getting
me. She’s understanding, she’s burrowing her way so far under my skin, into my
head, and around my heart”
Trey and Harley grow so much as individuals
and together, but the road to happiness is not straight. They have not reached
their destination and their journey is not over. The ending will have you on the
edge of your seat shouting at Ms.Blakely to give you more Trey and Harley NOW!
I am beyond anxious for Every Second With You to release.
Ms. Blakely has outdone herself tenfold
with this story. It is completely different than her other books but in such a
good way. She offers you Love, Sex, Addiction and Blackmail. Thrills from every
angle are thrown at you and trust me you will not want to swerve out of the
way. You are captivated from the first page of the prologue. The issues
discussed are edgy and tinted with darkness. The storyline itself is unique and draws
you in, then Harley and Trey further entice you with their personalities and
brokenness. Their pain, guilt and heartache pours off the pages just like their
sexual tension causing steam to fill up your kindle screen. Well done Lauren Blakely.
Please be nice and don’t make us wait too long. You have exposed me to a new
addiction - Trey Westin. Only you can curb my cravings and I'm in need of a fix!
~ Review by Tori
A few minutes later a cab pulls up, and she
pays the driver, then escapes. I squeeze my eyes shut when I see what she’s
wearing. Then I open them.
“Hi.” She offers a meek little wave as she
sinks down next to me. I close the sketchbook.
The cab races off, kicking up exhaust into
the night breeze, mingling with all the other scents nearby. This is New York
for you – I can smell Harley’s wild cherry lotion and I can smell garbage that
needs to be picked up tomorrow, the fume from cabs, and the trailing scent of
cigarettes. The ugly with the beautiful.
“You look guilty,” I say. “But you don’t
have to look guilty on my behalf.”
“I feel guilty.”
“Why? Are you going back to him?” I ask in
a strangled voice. The thought makes me sick.
She shrugs. “He made me an offer.”
I recoil, then stand up quickly as if I
can’t even be near her when she’s like this. When she’s in this zone. “Are you
going to take it?” I ask with a sneer. I don’t mask my disgust. I can’t mask my disgust.
“I don’t know,” she says, and her voice breaks,
and I fucking hate that she can be like this.
Tempted.
I push both hands through my hair, grabbing
hard. “You’re not a fucking whore, Harley.”
“It’s not like that,” she spits back.
“Fuck that,” I shout through clenched
teeth. I pace down the block, walking away from her, far away. To the end of
the block, where I stop and slam a hand against the street sign. I take a
sharp, deep breath, then turn around. She’s still on the stoop, and she’s
fiddling with her shirt, shakily fastening the top two buttons.
When I reach her I bend down and grip her
knees. I stare hard at her, her brown eyes like pools. One lone tear streaks
down her face. “You are better than that,” I tell her, never breaking her gaze.
“You are so much better than that.”
“But what if I’m not?” She chokes out in
the tiniest voice.
I wipe the pad of my thumb across her
cheek. I want to kiss her tears away, but I can’t go there right now. For a
million reasons.
“You are,” I say firmly. I want to shake
her. I want to smack some sense into her. “How can you even say you’re not?”
She drops her head so I can’t look at her.
“Because I’m not. Because I went to see him. Because you’d never do this.
You’re stronger than me. You’re never even tempted.”
“You think this is easy for me?” I crouch
on the sidewalk, my hands still gripping her knees. I glance down at her socks,
then shake my head. “I hate these socks,” I mumble, as I peel the right one
down her leg. She lets me, lifting her calf for me. My fingertips brush her
skin, but I manage to resist running my hands up and down those calves. The
mission to get her out of this awful costume is stronger than my desire to
touch her. I unbuckle one shoe and take off her sock. I do the same to the
other leg, rolling down the white knee-high, undoing the shoes, and tugging the
sock off her foot, ignoring how smooth her perfectly shaven legs are. I hand
her the offending items, and she stuffs the white socks into her purse. Out of
sight. Somewhat out of mind. “I can’t stand seeing you dressed like this. I
wish you were wearing a t-shirt and jeans right now.”
I
earn a small laugh for that, and she lifts her head, flashing a quick lopsided
smile. The Harley smirk that makes me want to wipe it away with my mouth. Kiss
that sexy smirk right off of her. Hear the sweet sighs she makes when I kiss
her.
Lauren Blakely writes sexy contemporary romance novels with heat, heart, and humor, and her books have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. Like the heroine in FAR TOO TEMPTING, she thinks life should be filled with family, laughter, and the kind of love that love songs promise. Lauren lives in California with her husband, children, and dogs. Her novels include Caught Up In Us, Pretending He’s Mine, Playing With Her Heart, and Trophy Husband. She also writes for young adults under the name Daisy Whitney.
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