Saturday, September 5, 2015

Blog Tour ARC Review + Giveaway: Thick Love by Eden Butler

Thick Love
(Thin Love, #2)
by Eden Butler
Genre: NA | Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 31, 2015

He doesn’t ask their names.

He doesn’t deserve to know them.

Ransom Riley Hale's friends think his life is charmed: first string as a freshman on a championship-winning college football team. A father with two Super Bowl rings. A mother with platinum albums and multiple Grammies under her belt. But that brilliant shine on the surface hides the darkness beneath; it's all Ransom has ever known.

Despite the shadows he walked in, once there was a blinding light fracturing the darkness. It brought the promise of hope and happiness. He’d been careless, filled with pride and stupidity and lost that light. Ripped it from the world.

Now, the shadows are dimming again. Aly King surges into his life threatening to pull him from the darkness. She is everything Ransom can never be again. Her light feels too warm, promises him that there is more waiting for him beyond the shadows.

But the shadows are relentless, resurfacing when he thinks he is safe, and Ransom knows he must keep Aly from them too before he pulls her down into the darkness with him.

4 'angst ridden' stars

Thick Love is not an easy book to read. It make me sad and depressed with Ransom, but it also make me fall in love with a heroine and I'm feeling hopeful all is gonna be right in Aly's world.

Ransom Riley-Hale is a guilt ridden young man because he lost the love of his life. He had been haunted by Emily since the unfortunate incident and had been bottling up his demon ever since. On the outside, he seems like any other testosterone fueled youngster, but Ransom is a broken man, still wallowing in his guilt and serving a penance. 

Aly King is an aspiring and independent young woman. She's a dancer, an instructor, a waitress and when times needed, a nanny. Aly is simply wonderful and is a rare occasion that I actually loving a heroine more than the hero. 

Ransom and Aly get to spend more time together when she needed a dance partner and his family needed a nanny. With them being in close proximity with each other, Ransom can no longer deny that Aly is the first person since Emily that manage to invoke desire in him. 

"Like sex again?"
"No, not like sex."
"Like... like love."


Honestly, Ransom is a piece of work. I sympathize him, what with all the soul crushing torment and denying his desire for a girl. He feel that he didn't deserve to be happy. On the other hand, reading about the hero mooning over his ex for a big part of the book, while dear Aly is right in front of him, make me want to slap him silly.

"I wish I could breathe again. I want that so bad."

With Ransom hot and cold treatment towards Aly, many might think she is a doormat. But I didn't feel it that way because Aly can hold her own. She called his bullshit and want to set him straight. She is dedicated in her mission to heal Ransom but she is not total pushover.

"I wanted you to smile again."

Ransom wasn't an easy man to love but God help me, I did.

If you enjoy reading a tormented hero having a second chance at love and a dedicated heroine who is there to love him unconditional, this is the book for you.

About the much talked about epilogue: I know many readers prefer to have their happy ending. But, if this book is a standalone, I will be sorely disappointed because from a romance POV, Ransom and Aly's love story is not that emotionally satisfying. I need more from Ransom in order to convince me that Aly is his one true love. So I'm happy that with the epilogue, I have something to look forward to. 

"It's okay to let someone love you."
"I don't deserve it."
"I'm still gonna love you anyway."


Kobo | iTunes

She offered me a quick glance, one that was closed off and guarded before she held her weight on her knees, shaking harder than ever, rubbing herself right against my dick. When she brushed her fingers across my face, over my mouth, I let her, didn’t pull away, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. That I shouldn’t be touching her at all. 
“Beautiful,” I started, closing my eyes when her breath moistened my bottom lip and she rested further back, a low, satisfied moan leaving her throat when I lowered my fingers on her hips. The sensation was potent, made me drunk and I did what I wanted for once, what I needed. Ironside had gone. The window was covered with a dark curtain, but I still kept up the show. Only now, I wasn’t acting. This wasn’t a performance. “God…who…who are you?” No one had managed to make me want like this, make me crave like this in a long time. 
But she didn’t answer. She was wrapped up in the music, letting it move through her as though it controlled her. The sounds she made, that sweet, eager groan from her throat when I breathed against her bare stomach was too much. I couldn’t help myself. Not for another damn second.
 “Shit…I…” My mind spun and the confusion of feeling guilt and shame and lust and desperation had me stuttering, unable to keep my hands from stretching over her flat stomach. She didn’t stop me, didn’t protest when my fingers touched the top of her thong. “I need to touch you.”
Only for the night.
That’s all it would be. One night. One moment, and fixating on that one small slip of time allowed my mind and my body to agree, for once, to forget that I shouldn’t feel this good, that I didn’t deserve this, that touching something this beautiful, this sweet, had almost destroyed me. 
She moved over me, exulting my senses, exposing emotions that I thought I’d buried deep, and for just those few sweet, obliterating minutes, a beautiful stranger made me feel what no one had since Emily. 
“Lower, please” she asked and I was too caught up, too turned on to deny her a thing or to stop myself from feeling what that small, breathy word did to my body. 
I touched her. Fingers sliding under her slowly, gazing on her face when I pushed past that thong, to the warm, wet, so fucking sweet cleft of her pussy and yes, shit yes she gave back to me what I thought I’d lost, her trembling body weaving some kind of magic over my own that fogged my mind, had my hands gripping skin, my fingers clutching flesh, straining upwards to meet each grind of her beautiful body against me. 
“There…yes.” And I let the dancer use me, her body over mine, rubbing against me, making me needy, desperate and all the while I watched her, head thrown back, fingers digging into my shoulders, while I touched her deeper than I had ever touched anyone ever before.
We were senseless, lost to the communion of music, sweat, sensation all coalescing together, writhing friction that took me where I hadn’t let myself go since I was sixteen, and she breathed out into that dark room, hollowing her whispered pants until I couldn’t hear the music any more or the low hum of the overhead lights; until all that mattered were her soft breathy  moans, and the deep groan of my voice mixed with the sensation of her searing heat, the smell of sweat and the labored realization that this beautiful woman I didn’t know was making me come. 
Finally. Oh, god, finally… and I let go. I fucking let go against her and away from everything that had held me back…
My gasp—shocked, overwhelmed—became a growling shout, louder than hers, deeper and I only came back to myself when she shuddered, when the bite of her fingernails left me blinking, understanding what had happened right as she came down from her own peak. 
“Oh…oh God…” it was all I could manage, that level cry of surprise, confusion. “I just…God.” 
She didn’t say anything.
Seconds passed with our breaths mingling, gazes focused, coming together just as reality broke apart the lost moments we had given ourselves instinctively, like it was usual, like it wasn’t some naked desperation that blinds reason, blankets thought. 
I saw the question in her eyes, that desperate curiosity that choked down my own. What do you say? What do you feel when this happens with a complete stranger? There was a rush, a booming zip that began to fade just then. It had started the moment she came to me, the second I grazed my fingertips on her wrist. Now it was dimming, numbed by the awkward silence around us. 
Seconds lengthened with her damp skin, her heavy breasts resting in my hands and the wet, uncomfortable mess in my jeans making me feel as if I’d pissed myself. 
“Um…” it was her voice that broke the trance and the discomfort came in a like soaking splash into that dim, quiet room. Behind that mask, her eyes were shut and the tremble in her hands then wasn’t from arousal. The stiff bearing in her shoulders returned and she sat up, eyes blinking and one small line crowded on her forehead. 
“I’ll just…I can’t.” Then she exhaled, cleared her throat. “I’ll…go…” My hand fell away from her and that awkwardness felt thick, full as she stumbled off my lap before I could speak, before I thought I should stop her. She ran from the room leaving nothing behind but the echo of her heels against the hardwood floor and the heavy sensation of surprise and guilt thick in my mind. 

Eden Butler is an editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, “Chasing Serenity” launched in October 2013 and quickly became an Amazon bestseller.

When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football. 

She is currently imprisoned under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.

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