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I’m a heroin addict. A junkie. A whore. I’ll do anything to get my next fix.
Including walking right onto the property of Austin’s most ruthless and feared drug lord to beg for some H. I don’t know his name, only that people call him Boss. Oh, and that he won’t think twice to put a bullet in my head.
But like I said, I’ll do anything to get my next fix. Even if it costs me my life.
Or changes it forever.
4 dark and gritty stars
This is a dark and twisted story with a surprising amount of heart. With an unlikely romance that is full of passion and intensity set in the dangerous world of drug trafficking, where violence, danger and murder are an everyday part of life, this book captivated me from the very beginning, and I loved it!
Austin’s drug underworld is ruled by the ruthless man known only as ‘Boss’. He killed his predecessor to get where he is and he rules an unstable kingdom, fighting every day to retain his place in the delicate hierarchy of the world he inhabits. Miri is a strung-out heroin addict, and we meet her when she is in the beginnings of withdrawal. Desperate for her next fix, she rocks up to the Boss’ compound looking for her drug-dealing ‘boyfriend’… or in fact anybody who can give her what she craves.
Known as a cold and emotionless killer, Boss surprises himself, and his men, by bringing the pathetic girl into his home. He feels somewhat responsible for her condition and, wanting to make amends for mistakes in his past, he feels the need to take care of her. Miri proves that she despite her condition, she is a strong, feisty woman, and it sparks an interest in the Boss that he hasn’t experienced before. So he decides to keep her.
I was trapped in a bizarre, luxurious prison, completely at the mercy of Austin’s fiercest drug lord, and from what I knew, that title was earned deep in the trenches of brutality and death.
What does he want? Nothing comes without strings attached. Nothing.
I loved the dynamic between these two! The book is written in dual POV so we get to see exactly what they’re both going through, and I loved the complexity of these characters! Their backgrounds are well developed, and the growth that they show throughout the story is realistic, intriguing and really well done. I love Miri’s strength and tenacity, and I adored the slow reveal of the Boss as Jag, the man behind the fearsome exterior. The constrasts existing within him were explored really well.
God, I wanted to wrap her in my arms until her pain went away. But I wasn’t comfort. I wasn’t peace. I was hate and violence and war.
Despite their differences and their complicated situation, the chemistry between Miri and Jag is fantastic! Their attraction to each other is evident from the very start, and when they act on those feelings… damn! The sexy time is hot, passionate and so, so intense! But it was also so much more.
“Jesus, Miri. You’re so goddamn fucking sexy. Everything about you drives me crazy. You think you’re ruined? It’s you who’s going to ruin me.”
“You make me feel safe. I want to be with you. I want to be yours.”
“Then you’re mine.”
But it’s a dangerous world they are living in, and the two sides of Jag’s life are wonderfully blended to create a love story with a dark and gritty feel. His protectiveness over Miri and the emotion she evokes in him is gorgeous, but we also see the brutality and control that he demonstrates in all things, the ruthlessness with which he deals with those who wrong him, and the violence that is an everyday part of his life. It adds a complexity to his character that I absolutely loved and I find him absolutely fascinating! But his enemies are closing in and Boss is facing a threat like never before.
I really enjoyed this book. It’s fast paced and exciting with a great mix of danger, violence, sex, romance and suspense. It all builds to a climactic cliffhanger which is predictable but still exciting, and I can’t wait to get my hands on the next instalment, Jagger.
Advanced Review Copy was generously provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
The Broken Doll Duet
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Fighting the intense, gut-clenching fear, I tightened my grip, using his strong muscles to keep me upright as he washed my feet. The cloth skimmed up my legs one at a time, his hands scrubbing over and over as the foam rinsed away days of dirt and grime. The boss skipped my clothed midsection, straightened to his full height, and repeated the process with my arms, spending extra time on my dirt-caked hands and nails, and the track marks on my arms, only moving on when my skin glowed pink.
Next, he lifted my long red hair off my neck and slid the cloth across the top of my back and shoulders, then around the front to wash the exposed part of my chest where my tank top dipped low. I glanced down as his enormous, bruised and scabbed hands worked over my skin, only then realizing my white tank was completely transparent and I wasn’t wearing a bra. Instinctively, my hands flew up to cover my breasts. He chuckled, a smooth, deep sound so seductive it could easily charm a roomful of people and melt every pair of panties in a five-mile radius.
“A little too late for that, doll. Seein’ as I’ve already got a good look at everything.”
Something about his cocky drawl, the crooked smirk on his face, and that single raised eyebrow felt like a challenge. My courage, boosted by the decadent lull of my best friend, heroin, had me meeting his gaze head-on. Determined to show the boss I wasn’t a cowering scaredy-cat, I fingered the hem, tugged the wet tank over my head, and tossed it to the floor with a loud splat. The man’s eyes widened, which only fueled my desire to make him eat his stupid words. Still staring directly into those sapphire eyes, I stuck my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and shoved them down, stepped out, and kicked them aside. Completely naked, I stood my ground and raised my own brow in return, hands on my hips.
Our eyes were locked a few more seconds before he threw his head back and burst out laughing. The action made him look years younger than I originally believed. “You are somethin’ else, you know that, doll?”
Instead of answering, I snatched the soapy washcloth from his hand and quickly finished washing my newly exposed skin.
The boss scrambled to catch the cloth I whipped at his chest before turning to storm out of the shower. I yelped when he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me toward him. The blazing heat of his chest was pressed against the bare skin of my back and I trembled from head to toe. The boss held tight and lowered his mouth to my ear.
“First, don’t ever fucking throw shit at me again.” Chills broke out across my skin at his angry threat. “You will not disrespect me in my own house, especially after I fucking took you in instead of killing you the second you set foot on my property. Got it?” When I didn’t answer, he squeezed my upper arms until I whimpered.
“Y-yes. I get it.” I struggled to keep from screaming out of pure terror. What was I thinking? Mouthing off to a drug lord while naked in his shower and a house full of his goons one floor below. I couldn’t possibly be more vulnerable.
After digging his fingers in for another long moment to prove he was in charge, the boss released me and spun me around as he picked up another bottle. “Your hair is fucking disgusting. It needs to be washed.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste and once more, shame flooded me with heat. This man had a way of making me feel as though I was less than human. He held out the bottle, shaking it in my face. “Either you do it, or I do, doll. But you’re not getting out of here until you’ve cleaned the junkie stench off.”
The backs of my eyes stung and my face caught fire. I couldn’t look at him as I took the bottle and poured some shampoo into a shaky hand. He washed himself quickly then stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest as I lathered my hair and rinsed off under the spray.
“Again,” he demanded. I bit my lip to keep from telling him to fuck off and did as I was told.
When the last suds swirled down the drain, the boss was silent as he reached around me and cut off the water. He carefully folded the washcloth, laid it on the edge of the sink, and stepped out of the shower enclosure. He handed me a towel, and picked one up for himself. I tried not to watch as he rubbed the fluffy white cloth over all of those tan muscles, but it was futile. Staring, I was mesmerized by the sight as the boss wrapped the towel around his waist and shucked his wet briefs from underneath. I gulped, knowing he was now naked beneath the soft terrycloth, a mere foot away.
When the silence became uncomfortable, I clutched my own towel to my chest, dug up what little courage I had left, and turned to face him with a huff. “We showered together and I don’t even know your name.”
He quirked that damn eyebrow again and smiled, white teeth gleaming in the middle of his dark designer stubble. If I didn’t know he was a widely feared drug lord and a pushy, high-handed, scary motherfucker, I’d find his expression almost charming.
“I know you’re The Boss, I want to know your name.”
“My name is Boss,” he repeated. “Or Boss Man. Either one works.” As if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if forcing unwilling women into a shower were an everyday occurrence, he shrugged and brushed a hand through his wet hair.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.” This guy was so damn frustrating. He shot me up with H, dumped me in the shower, humiliated me, washed me, but wouldn’t tell me his name. Whatever. I turned my back to him.
Two large hands wrapped around my shoulders, and I was jerked back against his body once more. Both of us were currently clad only in towels, his slung low around his waist and mine tucked under my armpits. There wasn’t as much skin-on-skin contact as in the shower, but this felt much more intimate. Slowly, Boss spun me around to face him, and I had to muffle a frightened cry. His blue eyes were narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring. The transformation from playful to furious was immediate and absolutely terrifying. For the first time since I’d showed up on his lawn, I was truly, without a doubt, scared shitless.
This man, the one in front of me—so different from the man who laughed in the shower—is what I expected from the drug lord I heard rumors about. Horrible rumors of unspeakable acts of violence. A ruthless man to be respected and feared.
Boss pressed the length of his half-naked body against me, and growled, teeth glinting behind curled lips. “That’s the second time you turned your back on me after mouthing off. I’m only going to say this once more, Miri, so listen carefully.” He lowered his head and his breath ghosted across my neck. I shuddered and a whimper escaped my throat, the result of a horrifying combination of lust and fear. “You are my guest. You snuck onto my property and you’re goddamn lucky I didn’t let Milo shoot you on sight. No, I saved you, took your ass in, gave you your fucking heroin, and washed a couple weeks’ worth of filth and scum off of you using my very expensive body wash that, incidentally, I never share with anyone. I expect you to be grateful for my hospitality and treat me with some goddamn motherfucking respect, got it?” His hands tightened around my arms incrementally as he spoke. His message was quite clear as his touch became more and more painful. I knew his thick fingers would leave bruises on my pale, fragile skin.
Legs shaking, I nearly pissed myself when faced with the lethal side of this man.
“I want to hear you say you understand, Miri.” Boss let go and stepped back until his eyes bored holes into me from beneath heavy brows.
Filled with terror, my heart pounded and my breath caught in my lungs, rendering me speechless. His eyes narrowed, not happy with my silence. Somehow, I managed to choke out two words.
Meet the Author
Heather C. Leigh is the author of the Amazon best selling Famous series. She likes to write about the ‘dark’ side of fame. The part that the public doesn’t get to see, how difficult it is to live in a fishbowl and how that affects relationships.
Heather was born and raised in New England and currently lives outside Atlanta, GA with her husband, 2 kids, and French Bulldog, Shelby.
She loves the Red Sox, the Patriots, and anything chocolate (but not white chocolate, everyone knows it’s not real chocolate so it doesn’t count) and has left explicit instructions in her will to have her ashes snuck into Fenway Park and sneakily sprinkled all over while her family enjoys beer, hot dogs, and a wicked good time.
My favorite authors are Dan Wells, Ken Follett, and Stephen King.