Atlantic Readers Debate the Protests at Mizzou and Yale - The AtlanticThe Blushing Reader
Equal parts Dexter and 50 Shades, this is the eagerly awaited new novel from A. R. Torre, author of the award winning erotic thriller, The Girl in 6E.&
The rules are the same. I can’t open the door. I can’t leave. I can’t kill anyone.&
The only difference is, I don’t set the rules anymore. Guards in grey uniforms do. It is everything I never wanted and everything I always deserved. I write to you now, from a prison cell. My home for the next twenty to thirty years.&
That’s the going term for murder.
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Alessandra Torre is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author of ten novels. Her books focus on romance and suspense, all with a strong undercurrent of sexuality. Torre has been featured in such publications as Elle and Elle UK, co-hosted Dirty Sexy Funny with Jenny McCarthy, as well as guest blogged for the Huffington Post and RT Book Reviews. She is also the Bedroom Blogger for Cosmopolitan.com.
You can learn more about Alessandra on her website at , or you can find her on Twitter (@ReadAlessandra) or Facebook.
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Newsletter:
Publication Date: October 22, 2015&
Fuck me recklessly
Kiss me harder.
Take me again and again…&
He and I met under a cloud of clichés:
Boy meets girl. Boy charms girl. Boy fucks girl.
Our story was supposed to end right after the orgasms, right after we went our separate ways.
But then we saw each other again…&
And neither of us could walk away.
Our rules were simple.
Our passion was scandalous.
Our hearts were supposed to be safe…&
&But when you find something so all-consuming—something so intoxicating and inescapable, you’ll risk everything you’ve ever had, even if you’re destined to crash and burn.
This is us.
This is our messed up love.
This is turbulence.
MEET WHITNEY G.
A self diagnosed candy addict, travel junkie, and hypochondriac, Whitney G. LOVES to write about characters that make you laugh, cry, and want to (in the case of Selena Ross) reach through your Kindle and slap them. She is the "imaginary bestselling" author of the Jilted Bride Series, Mid Life Love, Wasted Love, and Captain of My Soul. When she's not locked inside her room, feverishly typing away on her laptop, she can be found here: http://www.whitneygracia.com She also loves getting emails from her readers, so if you want to tell her how much you loved (or hated) her stories, email her at
***Author’s
note*** Sweet Obsession can be read as a standalone novel.
knows Brooke Wicks loves to have a good time. She’s not interested in getting
serious, settling down, or limiting herself to one man. So when she meets the
sexy, irresistible Mason King, she sees another opportunity to let loose and go
wild. But the gorgeous Aussie isn’t interested in just a quick fling with
Brooke, and if she wants to get into his bed, she’s going to have to do it on
his terms.
Loving fast
and hard has always been Mason’s philosophy. He doesn’t want a meaningless
connection, he wants it all, and he wants it with Brooke. When she makes her
one desire known—to hit it and quit it—Mason wages a plan to ensure Brooke
keeps coming back for more. Or so he hopes.
Getting her
attention was the easy part. Keeping it might be damn near impossible.
Obsession is where the Sweet Addiction series meets the Alabama Summer series.
Also Available:
SWEET ADDICTION SERIES
&ALABAMA SUMMER SERIES
Daniels is the NY Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction
series, and the Alabama Summer series. She loves curling up with a good book,
drinking a ridiculous amount of coffee, and writing stories her children will
never read. J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family.
My Thoughts:&
I have read a few Brooke Cumberland books so I knew I was getting my hands on something special. I am not a huge reader of teacher/student romances but I fell in love with the blurb and the cover of this book and instantly knew I HAD to read this! &(I will admit I have a thing for scenes with art and the life drawing scene did not disappoint!)
Pushing the Limits was a good story. &The reader is instantly thrown into the characters lives and the story takes off at a quick pace. &While I appreciate that we didn't get too much background right at the beginning I felt behind for the first part of the story, thinking that I should have known what was going on in Morgan and Aspen's lives. &I actually had to check to see if this was a series (it is not), instead we get the information unfolded over the first 50%. &
The story was really hard to put down and the tension was off the charts amazing... until around 50%. &Then things seem to at the same time stay in one long sex scene and speed by really fast. &The whirlwind that came at the end seemed too sudden and dramatic (for my tastes) and even though I predicted how the end might pan out I was a bit disappointed in Morgan and Aspen's characters.
While I love Brooke Cumberland's writing style, I was not a super fan of this particular story as a whole. &There were parts that were 5 star amazing, but also parts that had me almost putting the book down. &To be fair, this is clearly a genre I do not read very often and it is an angstier new adult book, so my dislikes may be mine alone. &
Pushing the Limits does a fantastic job creating that delicious sexual tension that we all crave and the inside look into Aspen when she is painting was really interesting (but that might be my art historian heart beating). &The dual POV was spot on too, I love to see both sides to every story, it is liking know something the other characters don't know. &The heat was delicious and the sexy times were very creative, but my issue was Morgan calling Aspen "Baby" too many times during dirty sex talk which took me out of the fun (again that is all me and my issues).
Brooke Cumberland is a an Author that I will continue to read. &While Pushing the Limits wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, that doesn't mean that it wasn't a good read. &I read this book quickly and still find myself thinking about the characters days after I read it. &Authors that can write words that keep you in the story after the story is over, they are keepers. &Brooke Cumberland is a keeper for me.&
If you like student/teacher romances or college aged New Adult books with angst, then this would be a great choice for you (hell the life drawing scene alone is worth the price of this book). &Pushing the Limits is a book that takes two people who are trying to put themselves back together after great losses and showing them that living your life they way you deserve is the best way to honor a memory. &
Let me know if you have read this book and what you thought in the comments, I'd love to hear from you. &Keep scrolling for the synopsis, a giveaway and a sneak peak at the prologue! &
Happy Reading,
My Rating:
He’s my art professor.
I’m his student.
With an electric connection and undeniable chemistry, I know it won’t be long until one of us cracks.
When the opportunity arises to pose naked for the entire art class, I can’t help the thrill of knowing he’ll be watching me.
While they all look past me with their eyes narrowed and concentrated, drawing only the lines and angles of my body, he sees right through me down to my vulnerability.
He sees more than just the physical aspects—he sees&me.
That’s when I see the struggle in his features as he tries to stay in control.&
How do we keep our distance when everything seems to be pulling us together?&
What feels so right can only go wrong if we keep pushing the limits.&
I step inside the doorway, immediately hit with the mixed aroma of mildew and lavender from all the flower arrangements. I narrow my eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. It’s eerily quiet, the service not due to begin for another hour.
My mother was hysterical all night long, crying in her room. I heard her through the bedroom door, but I didn’t go to her. I couldn’t.&
I know she blames me.
Mom hadn’t said a word to me all morning, so I asked my older brother, Aaron, to take me early. I want to see Ariel before everyone else starts arriving. See her one last time.
I walk down the short hallway and into the room her service is being held in. Chairs are all lined up perfectly, row by row. The room will probably fill up quickly of family and friends, all coming to give their condolences.&
I swallow as I step closer, her casket already open. I notice faint music playing overhead through the speakers. It’s meant to sound soft and soothing, but I don’t know how anything can soothe away the ache burning in my chest.
I glance around and notice the walls look as if they were painted a hundred years ago. The faded beige carpet is almost nonexistent. Flowers surround her on one side and a table of vanilla scented candles on the other. Nothing in this whole room represents her except the collage board of pictures she had hanging in our room. She made it two summers ago and had been adding pictures of her friends and us ever since. It captures every part of her personality.
We lived on farmland with only fields surrounding us. No neighbors or friends to play with meant we’d learned to entertain ourselves. I remember the day she got a new camera for Christmas and immediately started taking pictures—of everything. We’d giggle and snap pictures of each other, torment Aaron and take his picture when his girlfriend was over, and take about a hundred pictures of our pets. I smile at the memories but at the same time feel like crying because now there won’t be anymore. The memories we’ve made the last fourteen years are all I have left of her.&
When Pastor Jay asked us to bring in our favorite pictures of her, I knew immediately she’d want these. I step closer and examine them, even though I’ve looked at it every single day for the past two years. Somehow today, it looks different.
There’s the one of us standing in front of the middle school on our first day of seventh grade. We were assigned different homerooms and weren’t happy about being apart. Another one shows us with our dog, Fudge, the first day we brought him home from the shelter. We’ve only had him for six months now. He was a rescue and she said she knew he was the perfect fit for our family.
After tracing the lines of each picture, I slowly walk to her casket. I pleaded with my mom to let her wear her favorite purple dress, but she refused. She said it was an ‘occasion’ dress, AKA—a happy occasion. Instead, she picked out a dark, navy blue dress that she absolutely loathed wearing. My lip curls up on one side thinking how much she’d hate wearing this dress right now. She hated wearing dresses in general, but now, oh she’d be so pissed. Part of me wants to laugh at the irony and the other part wants to rip it off her and sneak the purple dress on.&
I glance down at her, curling my fingers tightly around the edge of her casket. She looks flawless, almost like she’s just sleeping. Even looking at her right now, seeing that she isn’t breathing anymore, it hasn’t all sunk in.&
For the first time in days, I let myself cry. I cry harder than I ever have, I’ve held the tears in, trying to remain strong for Mom, but I can’t do it anymore. I release all the pain I’ve kept inside and apologize to her over and over.
“I’m so sorry, Ari. God, I’m so, so sorry.” I blink, wiping my cheeks off. “You hated that nickname,” I say, letting out a short laugh. I exhale a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you so much,” I whisper, reaching for her hand. “I’m going to miss you sneaking in my bed and sleeping with me every time a storm hit. I’m going to miss staying up late on weekends, gossiping about Brady Carmichael and all the guys on the basketball team. Or the girls who think purple lipstick is in.” I chuckle softly to myself. “I’m even going to miss arguing with you over who gets to use the shower first. It was like our little tradition, I guess.” My lips soften, curling up on both sides at the happy memories. “Truthfully, I’m going to miss everything about you.” I lean down and kiss the top of her forehead. “I love you.”
I hear footsteps in the hall and take that as my cue to start heading out. People will be arriving soon, and I’m not quite sure I’m strong enough to deal with everyone. Half feel sorry for me and the other half blame me.
I’m not sure which one is worse.
“Aspen…” I hear my dad’s deep voice. I turn and face him, his lips set in a firm line, his eyes as empty as I feel right now. “Your mother wants to talk to you.”
I swallow at his tense features, but nod and follow him out of the room. He’s barely speaks or looks at me now. I’m only a constant reminder of what happened—of who he’s lost—of how our lives are forever changed.
He leads me to a small room on the other side of the hall where she’s sitting with her nose buried in a handkerchief.
I stand in front of her and wait. I’m not sure what to say to my mom right now—or anyone for that matter. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say.&
“I need to hear the story one more time,” she chokes out. “I need to hear why my baby girl is dead.”&
Her head is low and she refuses to look at me. I’ve told her and the police the story several times already, but every day since the incident she’s demanded to hear it again.
“Mom…” I begin, my eyes filling up again. “I can’t. Not again.”
“Tell me!” She raises her voice, finally tilting her head to look up at me. Her face contorted in a mixture of grief and disgust.
I do as she says. I repeat the story the same exact way I did the first dozen times. No matter how much it hurts to talk about, I explain what happened.&
“How could you let that happen?” she mumbles. “How could you be so careless? I just don’t understand!”&
“Mom, it’s not Aspen’s fault…” Aaron interrupts, stepping next to me.&
“Mama, I’m sorry,” I burst out through a new wave of tears. I’ve apologized to her and Daddy over and over. But I know they’ll never forgive me.&
I’ll never forgive me.
Aaron wraps an arm around my shoulders and cradles me to his chest. I hear my mom huff in disapproval. I push against his chest, wiping the tears off my cheeks as I storm off.
I’ll never forget the way her eyes widened in fear as she fell to her death. The way her body lay on the ground, motionless. The way her voice begged for my help as she screamed on the way down.
I’ll never forget.
I don’t tell Mom and Dad those things though. The images already haunt me in my sleep. The sound of her screaming has woken me up the past two nights. Every time I attempt to fall asleep, her dead eyes appear in my mind. It’s no use, I tell myself. There’s barely a difference between existing and sleeping now.
Life without her is pointless.
People start arriving, so Mom, Dad, Aaron, and I all stand in the front near her casket. I swallow my emotions down and refuse to cry. I shut down. I shut everything down. I let them hug me and say how sorry they are for our loss. I let them cradle my head as they press me against their chests. I let them squeeze my hands as they tell me how much she will be missed. I let them do whatever they need to express their feelings. But I don’t cry. I quietly thank them and look down at my feet.&
When the service is over, we gather at the cemetery to bury her. A large bouquet of white lilies rests on her closed casket. I step forward and pull one out for myself before they lower her in the ground. Mom and Dad do the same, but they don’t look at me. Dad wraps his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as she cries.&
I grip the obituary program tightly in my hand and stare down at her picture displayed on the cover. Mom used her most recent school photo from this past year, although it hadn’t been her favorite. I don’t know why though, she looked stunning as usual—bright smile, sparkling green eyes, and flowing golden blonde hair.&
Underneath it reads,&Loving Daughter&and Sister.&Gone too soon, but never forgotten.&4-10-1995 to 4&#9.
She died on our birthday.&
I swallow as I take it all in. April tenth was our favorite day. We’d wake up early to Mom making us our favorite breakfast—the only day of the year she’d make it—Belgian waffles with melted cream cheese frosting drizzled on top and then slathered in homemade maple syrup. She used fresh blueberries—instead of frozen—on top. She called it our special birthday breakfast and every year we looked forward to it.
After breakfast, we’d rip our presents open from our parents and later on exchange the ones we made for each other. For the last few years, we’d talk Mom into letting us skip school for the day. She wouldn’t even bother arguing with us, knowing she’d eventually cave anyway. So when we woke up on our birthday five days ago, we’d done everything the exact same.&
We laughed all through breakfast. Mom was going on and on about how she couldn’t believe how grown up her baby girls were getting and how old that made her feel. Aaron was three years older than us, but apparently he was born out of wedlock and didn’t count in her aging process.
After we finished eating, Mom handed us each a card and watched as we ripped them open. We both squealed when we saw the hundred-dollar bill tucked inside.&
As we wrapped our arms around her, she lectured us. “Don’t spend it all in one place, girls!” We then begged her to take us to the mall so we could of course spend it on clothes and makeup.&
“You’ll have to wait until your father gets back,” she said, piling the dishes into the sink. We ran upstairs and got dressed, setting our money down on the dresser and running back outside. It was warm for April, just a slight breeze in the air.&
It was perfect.&
I smile at the memory of our birthday traditions. It was something we’ve always shared. Should have shared forever.
She’d always tease me about how she was older, granted it was only by three minutes, but now the day would be pointless.
A painful reminder of what happened.&
Of what I lost.&
Follow Brooke Cumberland:
I can't believe how long it has been since I have blogged! &I have posted occasionally on FB, Twitter and have tried to keep up with GoodReads, but I have been failing as a blogger, and I am sorry. &I wanted to write you all a letter (something I don't usually do) to catch up and in a way explain why I faded away the last few months.
How have you all been? &Are you reading great books? &Catch any great sales? &I know I have grown my TBR quite strongly since this summer and my want to read book list is insane (but awesome).
When I started The Blushing Reader blog back in 2013 I wanted to connect with other readers, possibly meet new authors and just share the love I had for reading books that most of us don't admit we read. &I did it! &I instantly found a connection in this community and it was an amazing journey. &However, somewhere between the start 2015 and summer I started to really resent this blog and all the "work" that I had. &Blogging stopped being fun and started being stressful. &
Why did this happen? &A few reasons. &First, I couldn't say no. &I have a hard time saying no and then I got overwhelmed with all the work. &Second, I signed up for every tour, cover reveal and release day because I wanted my blog to get attention. &Third, I let this become a chore instead of a hobby. &Fourth, I let people who didn't run my blog tell me how to post, what to post and when to post. &Wow, that sounds like a lot of whining... and it is, but it is the truth. &I am not pointing fingers at anyone but me. &I let this happen. &At almost 40 (the 10th anniversary of turning 29 is fast approaching this month) I should know better, and I now, I do. & (It just took me a while to "get it")
After ignoring review request emails (I am so sorry if that was you), taking my name off blog tour company lists, deleting general blog tour requests and just flat out staying away from my blog related social media over the course of the last few months, I realized something. &I missed this blog! &I missed what I started two and half years ago. &I LOVE sharing amazing books with you! &I missed the Authors that I felt I became friends with and I missed discovering new Authors too. &I missed feeling connected to other readers. &I missed a lot of things but I didn't miss being told what to read and how to review the books. &Then I realized something.... I was an idiot! &This is a blog, not a career. This is a fun thing I do for free. &It doesn't matter how many FB likes I have or how many Twitter followers I get, it only matters that I be me and enjoy the journey. &I have come to the realization that I have the power to change the direction of the blog anytime and for any reason and I am going to do just that. &I am going to try to put more of "me" into this blog and create more a community. &I hope you all will stick with me!
The Blushing Reader is something that I love and I am going to do my best to post regularly, share the books (the good and the bad) that I have been reading and actually blog instead of just posting generic and structured posts. &I am challenging myself to let you all get to know me and hopefully I can get to know you in return, so that means change. &Change is good (and hard)!
If you are reading this and you are still with me then, THANK YOU! &Things will be changing over the next month or so and I hope you stick with me. &If you want to connect with me I am on think every social media platform there is, usually Twitter and FB and always you can find me on GoodReads (I have a book club there full of awesome ladies, did you know that?)
Whew! &I feel better, the guilt I have had over books un-reviewed, emails unanswered and social media posts not written was was drowning me, so thank you for letting me come up for air and get it off my chest! &&
I hope each of you have a great weekend (here in the US, Happy Labor Day) and get a chance to do something fun just for you! &I am about to crack open my Kindle and dive into The Bourbon Kings (finally)! &
I would love to hear from you, so drop me a comment, post or tweet and let me know what you are up to and most importantly what are you reading right now? &
Happy reading and may all your books be so good they make you BLUSH!
Was he a hitman? A Navy Seal? Gigolo?I had no idea what Bradley Emerson did for a living.&I’d figure it out though, secrets didn’t sit well with me and I loved a challenge.~ WiskaI wanted her.&I didn’t want to want her.&The brain in my head was no longer in control of this vessel.&Wanting her went against my rules, but apparently my male member was a rule breaker.&~ BradleyThis is NOT a dark romance. Nor is it smut...This is a slightly silly, LOL read, with a lighthearted look at the kinkier side of life. It comes served with a dash of wit and a sprinkle of playful romance.
BOOK TRAILER:
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DECKER'S WOOD ONLY 99 CENTS until August 20th
MEET THE AUTHOR:
I grew up on the beaches of North Queensland, Australia before migrating south to the iconic Gold Coast in 1995. I traded the surf and my bikini for pajama's and a computer when I embarked on writing professionally in 2012.&
I write first and foremost for myself. I write characters and ideas that come from my heart, then take shape and evolve into entire landscapes in my mind.&
I am fascinated with most creative outlets --- photography, art, music, you name it, I love it. I don't take life too seriously and I love to hear from fans and other like-minded, creative people. So drop me a line or come hang out on Facey or over at the Twitter-verse!
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