#tl smith

✔️ bed rotting

✔️ impulsive tbr purchases

244/75

Chained Hands by T.L. Smith

(Chained Hands duet book 1)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Trigger Warnings include:

murder, torture, knife/blood play

When his debt fell due, he sold me his wife. And I was happy because I wanted to play with her like any fool would. And play with her, I did. Pity, in the end, I would have to kill her.

I’ve gotten to the point in my reading hobby/obsession that buying a human to settle a debt is totally normal and I don’t bat an eye. Just wait for them to fall in love and move forth with my life as normal. The dynamic between Sailor and Keir (amazing unique names by the way!) was perfectly bizarre from the very start. The perfect measurements of enemies to lovers, possession, mafia boss, and naivety to create sexual tension. I love that Keir always made the “she’ll be dead by the end of the week” reminder, because it was always more for himself than anyone else. Not that anyone believed him. I sure as hell never did! He locked the prisoner up in his castle, and then gave her freedom. Sailor would push the boundaries, he’d remind her he’s killed for less, and then kept giving her more freedom! In true mafia boss fashion! This was a whole different kind of possession than he agreed to. Lord knows he didn’t use her like he claimed her for! Which of course means I liked him more than he deserves. But he became soft with her, giving Sailor a side of him no one else has ever had. Keir has met his match, and I can’t wait to see how he is during Locked Hearts!

My Favorite Quotes:

•”I’ll eat you for breakfast, and not in the good way.”

•”I’ve never wanted to f!ck one of my captives before.”

•’She has been my favorite thing I have confiscated so far.’

•’My favorite candy growing up was a pink Starburst- she tastes similar, but the flavor is a whole lot better.”

•”I don’t just want some of you, I want all of you.”

•”I think you could rule a f!cking kingdom if you tried.”

8/10 Dirty Birdy

7/10 Enemies Lovers

7/10 Mafia Romance

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Cavalier by T.L Smith

It is free on Amazon

Free On Amazon

Sometimes I like to dabble in free books on Amazon. I have found some good books this way. Cavalier was a good book; it had the potential to go one way or the other. It didn't, there were some dark spots, only one.

What was too much for me thought was the fact that it's was repetitive when it didn't need to be. The fact that our h was like I think I more than love him but i can't want him. Our H was like I want her, but I don't want her. I can't stay away from her, so I am going to push her away. It was the whole book honestly. I love angst but I wanted something other than conflict on feelings.

There wasn't much in the way of mystery, or the fact that there wasn't much of a plot. It honestly wasn't a bad book; it was just repetitive. See no one likes reading that.

Lawrence Durrell is best known for his opulent tetralogy of novels, The Alexandria Quartet (1957–60). But it was as a poet that he first came to public notice – and acclaim – with collections such as A Private Country (1943), Cities, Plains and People (1946), On Seeming To Presume (1948) and The Tree of Idleness (1955). Indeed, Durrell later described himself as a “poet who had stumbled into prose”. Peter Porter’s Selected Poems (2006) gives a flavour of the range and quality of Durrell’s best work, though it remains sadly neglected. For as the poet and novelist John Wain once testified, Durrell’s “ear is so fine, his choice of words and rhythms so rare and joyous” that to read him “is to have one’s love of poetry rekindled”. Durrell also had an admirer in T. S. Eliot, his editor at Faber, without whose work his own would not have been possible. But the more availing influence is perhaps W. H. Auden. Durrell shares something of his contemporary’s mastery of cadence, glinting particularity and fragmented, quirky meditativeness: qualities which he puts at the service of what he called the “spirit of place”. But you needn’t swallow his shtick about topography conserving “national essence” to appreciate the seductive oddity of his descriptions, or be moved by his astonishing rapport with the landscape, as in the unforgettable evocations of Corfu in the travel memoir Prospero’s Cell (1945).