Title: The Unrequited
Author: Saffron A. Kent
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance
Release Date: July 13, 2017
Blurb
Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from
unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive
calling.
What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps
seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry
professor—the married poetry professor.
Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and
broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry,
but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade,
Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.
Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in
the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he
kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you
again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget
all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.
NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive
topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.
Caroline's Review ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
This was an unputdownable, forbidden, teacher-student college romance.
“I’m ravenous for Layla. I’m ravenous for the power she gives me. I want to abuse that power, unleash it, use it against her. I want to destroy her like I’m destroyed in this moment. She is too brave for her own good. I want to destroy that bravery, that pure courage.”
Layla is needy, obsessive, hurting, guilt-ridden, and full of unrequited love for a boy she shouldn’t love.
“Thomas Abrams is magic. He’s a wordsmith, a baby whisperer, a blue-eyed a**hole, but most of all, he’s like me: brokenhearted.”
Thomas is bitter, angry, brutal, cynical, and full of unrequited love for a wife who doesn’t want him anymore.
Layla and Thomas are soulmates. She is the harlot and he is the fire-breather. Their attraction is incendiary. They are inevitable.
God! This story! I’ll be honest and say that I found neither character particularly likeable. Layla is so desperate to believe in love; that it truly exists. She wants to soothe Thomas in his troubled marriage but she had real crazy, stalker tendencies and a lack of self-respect, as she continually threw herself at Thomas. She was just so needy – she wanted to be seen, she wanted to be loved, she wanted to be needed. And, Thomas. He sent out mixed signals. He loved his wife but he’s in so much pain. He was almost helpless in the face of Layla’s continual attempts at challenging his self-restraint. He wanted to be a good man but he was inexorably drawn to Layla – to her spirit, her courage, her vulnerability; the fact that he seemed vital to her existence. Both were intrinsically damaged souls who called to each other.
“I’ll pour the gasoline, light the match, and watch you burn, Layla - and trust me, you’re going to love it. I’m going to ruin you for every other man out there and you’re going to love every second of it.”
This story was so sexually raw and painfully angsty but, at the same time, so beautifully, poetically written. So how can I give it 5 stars when most of the time I wasn’t sure that I even liked the characters? It’s because I found it absolutely compelling reading and, as Layla and Thomas’ story came to its resolution, it brought me to tears. This story really moved me with its beauty, its ugliness, its pain, its rawness.
Thoroughly recommend if you love an angsty, raw, sexual read.
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Excerpt
I’m hit by
a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body,
and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the
blame for it later.
I break the
rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss
of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t
enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time
on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
It’s not enough, these small, barely-there
touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.
Abruptly,
he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not
for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark,
raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
“Are you
trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift
ponytail.
He couldn’t
tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign.
Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”
He inches
closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely
closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”
Oh God,
does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my
heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
“H-How?” I
ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y
voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
For a
second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever
this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in
the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”
Author Bio
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian
Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book
world.
I'm a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you'll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.
I'm a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you'll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.
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