My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Ughm… So we went from holy cows to emotional rottweilers/pugs? I guess that could be considered an upgrade of sorts, but I’m not sure, and I’m really not the one to judge, so whatever.
Crazy is the new hot, didn’t you hear?
If you were wondering if men in this series are all totally unawares about personal boundaries/personal space, well, the answer is a definite yes. Vance here went one step further than guys before him and actually broke in the girl’s house in the middle of the night. A girl he knew at most a day. Would it bother me in real life? Heck yeah! Did it bother me in this instance? Not as much as you’d imagine.
Nuh, not really
This was probably because the B&E perpetrator looked ike this…
Swoon is just not the word for it. I tell ya, that guy wants to break in to my apartment? He’s welcome any time, like any time at all. I’d even leave him some milk and cookies. What, you think only Santa should get treats? For what I’m planning to do with that guy, he’ll need all the strength he could get. No joke.
You probably don’t want to hear about my imaginary sexcapades with Jason Momoa lookalike, so I’ll go back to our MCs.
When we first met Jules, all kickass and gun weilding, I thought “Oh, she would be great for Luke”. Alas that didn’t happen as I thought, although Luke shared my thoughts on that subject. I gotta admit though, Vance and Jules are kind of perfect for each other. They even might be my favorites now.
I liked Jules. She’s a social worker by day, drug dealer’s nuisance by night kind of girl. Sure enough that gets her in trouble with street bosses and that’s where Vance and the HotCrew come in. But what I liked the most about Jules is her love for those young delinquents in the shelter, the way she cares about them and that’s what Vance saw too. Being raised in the streets himself, you can see why he’s so taken with her.
It didn’t even bother me much that Jules was still a virgin at 26, almost 27 years of age. Because, honestly, the way Vance reacted was just priceless.
“Outside my bike, never has anything important in my life been just mine…Always castoffs, leftovers, used, sometimes even food from the dumpsters.”
His lips came to mine, his hands moved out of my hair and went to the side of my face and he stared in my eyes, pressing deep inside.
“Mine,” he muttered, his deep voice hoarse, that fierce undercurrent there.
That made up for everything. Even all the Shut ups.
Over and out