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317 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 7, 2014
“Oh, Winter. Oh, God. Oh, Winter.”Oh, Winter, you great big virile BEAST, you.
That’s right, he thought, drunk on power. One and the same.
She turned one cheek to the mattress and broke apart, crying out in long, wavering sobs.
Mouth slack and wide, he bucked, squinted his eyes closed, and bellowed out an extended cry that reverberated through her as he shuddered in her arms like a great, divine beast taken down by a single bullet.The main love in the book, Winter Magnusson, is constantly on the verge of orgasming in his pants every time he so much as smells a tantalizing whiff of the main character's juice-soaked panties. Ok, maybe I exaggerate. Winter doesn't cream his pants whenever he smells Aida's panties. He is also extremely aroused by freckles.
She was the one who’d been shot.
Freckles everywhere.Man, those freckles.
They began in a sliver of pale forehead above arched brows, gathered tightly across her nose and cheeks, lightened around her neck, then disappeared into the dipping neckline of her dress.
Freckles on her legs—how about that? For some reason, he found this wildly exciting. Increasingly lurid thoughts ballooned inside his head after he wondered exactly what percentage of her skin was speckled. Did freckles cover her arms? The curving creases where her backside ended and her legs began? Her nipples?Did I mention Winter is highly titillated by freckles?
The view only got better when she shucked off her coat: freckles covered every inch of her slender arms.Talk about a fucking fetish, man. Winter even collects erotic postcards with freckled women.
[The postcard] featured a naked woman with bobbed hair. She sat upon the lap of a naked man, who was propped up against a pile of cushions.Total word count of "freckle" in the book: 42. Ok. Aida's got freckles. We fucking get it.
She rode him, mouth open, with a look of ecstasy on her face.
And she was freckled.
My. He was enormous—several inches over six feet and with shoulders broad enough to topple small buildings as he passed.Big everywhere, if you catch my drift.
But it was the thicket below his rippled stomach that drew her attention. And the substantial length that hung under it.Ugh, spare me all your lady boners. Aida spends so much damn time dreaming of Winter's wang that I wonder when she has the time to think about anything else. Or do anything else. Like the case she's working on?
She wasn’t exactly an expert on men’s naked bodies, but she’d seen a couple, and neither possessed anything between their legs quite like that, and definitely not in a state of rest. She could only guess what it looked like when it woke up.
She may have possibly made a series of desperate noises. She definitely arched against him, bumping into his erection again. Well, rubbing herself against it, to be truthful.What case? I don't even know, really. Winter has an erection every time he's around her. The truth is that their lust completely overwhelms the first 30% of the book, and by the time they had gotten over it, I had completely lost interest in what little there is of the plot. Their lust is so all-encompassing, so completely overwhelming that I cannot comprehend when and how it developed into love. Thus, their romance was unconvincing, their love story lacking in credibility, and they had lost me in the book far before that.
And when she'd turned her face up to him and he saw the longing blossoming there, he was gone.
"No need to butter me up. Your hand's already been up my skirt."
"My hand is very happy about that."