One day I was a high school teacher on summer break, leading a relatively uneventful but happy life. Or so I told myself. Later, I’d question that, as I would question pretty much everything I knew about me, my relationships, and my desires. It all began when my neighbor thrust a key to a storage unit at me. She’d bought it to make extra money after watching some storage auction show. Now she was on her way to the airport to elope with a man she barely knew, and she needed me to clear out the unit before the lease expired.
Soon, I was standing inside a small room that held the intimate details of another woman’s life, feeling uncomfortable, as if I was invading her privacy. Why had she let these items so neatly packed, possessions that she clearly cared about deeply, be lost at an auction? Driven to find out by some unnamed force, I began to dig, to discover this woman’s life, and yes, read her journals—-dark, erotic journals that I had no business reading. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I read on obsessively, living out fantasies through her words that I’d never dare experience on my own, compelled by the three men in her life, none of whom had names. I read onward until the last terrifying dark entry left me certain that something had happened to this woman. I had to find her and be sure she was okay.
Before long, I was taking her job for the summer at the art gallery, living her life, and she was nowhere to be found. I was becoming someone I didn’t know. I was becoming her.
The dark, passion it becomes…
Now, I am working at a prestigious gallery, where I have always dreamed of being, and I’ve been delivered to the doorstep of several men, allof which I envision as one I’ve read about in the journal. But there is one man that will call to me, that will awaken me in ways I never believed possible. That man is the ruggedly sexy artist, Chris Merit, who wants to paint me. He is rich and famous, and dark in ways I shouldn’t find intriguing, but I do. I so do. I don’t understand why his dark side appeals to me, but the attraction between us is rich with velvety promises of satisfaction. Chris is dark, and so are his desires, but I cannot turn away. He is damaged beneath his confident good looks and need for control, and in some way, I feel he needs me. I need him.
All I know for certain is that he knows me like I don’t even know me, and he says I know him. Still, I keep asking myself — do I know him? Did he know her, the journal writer, and where is she? And why doesn’t it seem to matter anymore? There is just him and me, and the burn for more.
Genre: Fifty Shades of Gray Clone
This is a genre of books I want to like. Kinky sex is fun and women deserve fun sexy things just as men do. But why is this genre filled with so much stupid?!
[For reference, my quickie review of Fifty Shades: Anastasia is an idiot whose “Inner Goddess” proves she has no self esteem, Christian is an abusive, stalker asshole who Anastasia’s mom should have been encouraging her to take out a restraining order against instead of encouraging her to be with him, (and no, his abusive past does not justify nor excuse how he treated Anastasia), E.L. James’ depiction of the BDSM lifestyle is completely wrong and what she shows is dangerous and abusive, and the whole thing is terrible from a techincal perspective.]
Case in point:
Sara – very smart in her field of expertise (art), stupid in so many other ways. She works in a gallery filled with hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of dollars worth of art, and she is SHOCKED that there are cameras there. Her first night with Chris on their second round, she tells him that she doesn’t use condoms and to please ditch him and don’t worry – he’s on the pill. What about STD/STI? She manages to get hammered at every single wine tasting in this book. I may chalk this up to the writer though, because the author clearly knows nothing about wine. At one point Chris mentions that his wine expert friend never drinks on the job because she can’t maintain her professionalism. Um. Wine makers taste 20-30 vats in a day and never get drunk because they SPIT and not swallow. Did she not do research? Like, at all? She’s less annoying than Anastasia for sure, but she’s also so beautiful that two hot, filthy rich guys eat out of her palm with no effort while she can’t string a sentence together so not THAT much less annoying.
Chris – Up side: he’s not a stalker. Downside, he’s still kinda creepy. Like how after their second or third meeting in passing, he goes to her job at the gallery (while she’s not there), sneaks into her office and leaves a sketch for her on her chair. Or after she gets drunk the first time, he offers to take her for pizza and instead drives her to his place and says they can walk to the parlor or they can go upstairs, but if he does, he’s going to fuck her as hard as he’s been wanting too. Yeah. Also, I’m not a fan of how the author almost makes him seem ashamed of his D/s desires. The kinky sexy in this book is (like Fifty Shades) rather light, but you’d like they were getting into illegal shit the way he warns her against him. Also: this is a guy who never brings a woman back to his place, but not only does he do that for her, the very next day he’s bringing her to meet his godparents, who say she’s “very good” for him. Riiiight. And the dipshit ditched the condoms when she asked him too. Moron. How does he know she was telling the truth about being STD Free?
The plot is okay, though it ends unresolved and in a literal cliffhanger. At least the book does feel complete, so there is that. The sex is well written, though it’s very vanilla, and that’s a let down given the premise of the book.
I don’t know. Every time I started to like this book, some other stupid would come out of the wood work.
I want to like the genre, but books like these make it impossible to do so.
Verdict: Skip it