Tuesday, May 26, 2015

{Review} Afraid to Fly by S.L. Jennings

Coming May 26th
I’d like to tell you that I’m ok.
That the meaningless sex with countless women has somehow numbed the pain. That it’s deciphered the constant confusion in my head. Eased the self-hatred that sinks into my gut every time I look in the mirror.
I’d like to tell you that time heals all wounds. 
That we evolve and grow into well-adjusted, stable adults, set on a path to right the world’s wrongs. That we are not our past…we are not our pain. 
I want to tell you all those things. Hell, I want to believe all those things. But I’d be lying. I’m good at that. Living a lie is the only way I truly know how to survive. 
But the day I saw her, I stopped surviving. I stopped existing. And for the first time in 24 years, I started living. 
She brought me back to life. Set me free and sent my soul soaring. Made this useless shell of a man feel like…something. Something whole and real and good. 
She saved me.
Although she believes I wasn’t even worth saving.
This story chronicles the journey of Dominic Trevino, a character from Fear of Falling. However, it can be read as a standalone.

I don't even know where to start with this review... 

The tears, the hurt, the pain, the highlights, the heartache??? 

I crawled my bloody, bruised, and half-dead body through the ending of this book. Reaching for someone, anyone, to help me back up after being knocked straight on my ass. 

It was intense, it was hard, it was emotional, Oh GOD, was it emotional, and some parts had me internally cringing, not sure if I wanted to keep reading.

It was so much, too much... 

But it was also raw, powerful, amazing, and just enough angst and drama to break up all the heartbreak. 

Had you guessing WTF until the very end... 

Then, just when Jennings breaks your heart into a million and one tiny pieces and burns each and every piece, she pours water on your soul and soothes your little, broken, book heart.

Of course she couldn't put it back together the way it was, it's still a little cracked and damaged, but it is fuller and pumps a little stronger...

I vaguely remembered the story behind Dom in Fear of Falling, and I knew this book was going to be hard for me because of the content that needed to be explored. 

And it was...

It was really hard to read and really hard to digest. The details were graphic, hard to fathom, and just thinking about how a lot of kids have experienced something like that... 

It's tragic.



But Jennings does a spectacular job of giving you just enough to not make it too much, where you do not want to keep reading because it is to graphic. 
My heart appreciated that. 

I really don't want to give much away about this book. I want you to experience EVERYTHING yourself, just prepare yourself. 

It is Dirty Dom and his story will break your little heart and even though it is hard to swallow, it is worth every word!

I give this 5 "Where are my cuddles???" Stars!!


It was if my body had known what my soul needed to mend itself from the verbal assault that had left me open and bleeding. Sex was that healing balm for me. And this was exactly the place where I could find it.
None of the dancers here were prostitutes, and I never paid to get laid. Ever. They fucked me because they wanted me. And I fucked them because I needed them. It was an even trade.
Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t stick my dick in just anything, and other than Cherri, had only been intimate with two other girls there: Skylar, a hot sophomore at UNC Charlotte, stripping her way through college, and Velvet, a tattooed, purple-haired vixen from England who fucked like a porn star and cursed like a sailor.
Right now, I needed Velvet. If anyone could make me forget the last twenty minutes, Raven’s razor-sharp words and myself, it was her.
My legs carried me inside, despite the numbness I felt. I didn’t want to be here, but I needed to be. And once I had the soft silkiness and warmth of a woman’s skin against me, I’d feel a helluva lot better. Luckily, Velvet was there for a day shift, working the lunch crowd in her usual getup of velvet and chains. Today she wore a cut-out thonged romper that left little to the imagination. And that was fine by me. I was tired of thinking anyway.
“Hey love,” she smiled as I approached. Her lips were painted a deep, dark eggplant purple that almost looked black. I’d have the color smeared all over me within the hour, most of it in places invisible to the public. 
I didn’t waste any time. I didn’t have it in me to go through the motions and pretend I was here for anything other than sex. I leaned in close to her ear, letting my lips brush her earlobe in that sensual way I knew would get her hot, and whispered, “Back room in 10.” Then I quickly made my way to the bar to slam a shot of tequila.
She was there when I arrived, lounging on a plush loveseat with her heeled boots propped up on the arm. She looked at me with sin gleaming in her heavily lined eyes and gave me a slow, Cheshire grin. “Someone’s awfully anxious today.”

I was already loosening my tie as I stalked towards her and said, “Clothes off, boots on and get on your knees.”

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