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Released: May 24th 2016
Series: Saints of Denver #2
“Their chemistry was excellent, the story kept me interested and turning the pages and I am once again left with my peaked interest in the next book.”
~ Under the Covers
I’ve been anxiously anticipating the story of Quaid and Avett since reading the bits we saw of them in BUILT. The hot and successful lawyer and the pink haired trouble child he’s trying to keep out of jail. Opposites attract and my hope was they explode. 😉
I am happy to report that CHARGED was an entertaining and engaging read for me. It had the immediate spark I love about an opposites attract story, not quite enemies to lovers because these two actually do like each other from the start. But the charged (hehe) energy between them is addictive. I loved them together. He made her better. She made him real.
Quaid had tried to hide his past and followed a lifestyle of expectations. What society expected, what he expected for himself, the heights he set for himself in life. Avett doesn’t fit there. In fact, she’s closer to his past than he wants to admit. But it’s a case of right place at the right time. I really enjoyed seeing him opening up to Avett, and also how he helped with her guilt and her perception of herself. And I am a big fan of all the contradictions and layers of them as individual characters.
Their chemistry was excellent, the story kept me interested and turning the pages and I am once again left with my peaked interest in the next book. Job well done Ms. Crownover!
“This is a bad idea.” I knew it. I could feel it deep in my bones and the allure of letting go, of doing what I always did, and falling headfirst into disaster, was pulling at me hard. But I was supposed to be changing. I was supposed to actually be sorry, not just saying it and turning around into the next catastrophe. I knew kissing Quaid Jackson was going to lead to all kinds of sorry and sorrow. I knew it as much as I knew I didn’t care and that I was going to kiss him and chase this bad idea until it crashed and burned, like they always did.
“You made a lot of them lately. What’s one more?”
He was right. What was one more? Especially when it looked like him, when it smelled sleepy and expensive like he did, when it felt hot and hard pressed up against me. What was one more awful choice when it came with lips that were firm and demanding as they landed against mine? What was one more when it was attached to rough hands that brushed along my exposed rib cage and paused under the achy swell of my breast? What was one more bad decision on top of all the other ones that had led this particular mammoth-sized bad decision to my door?
I had plenty of time, tomorrow, to do the right thing, but now I was going to enjoy the hell out of the wrong thing as he pressed his mouth more insistently into mine, taking the choice of which came first—the kiss or the story—out of my hands. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to him, so attracted to everything there was about him. He didn’t give me the room or the chance to make any kind of choice, good or bad. He decided and I followed his lead towards victory or towards ruin…and this kiss felt like it had everything in it to ruin both of us.
It was the first time in my life that a bad idea felt like the best idea I had ever had.
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