Lyla Payne starts us off meeting Quinn Rowland the first night of his party that lasts during the entire U.S. Open. Quinn is a forcibly retired tennis player at the age of 20 due to a knee injury, and has been exiled to attend college at Whitman University.
We immediately find out what a douchebag Quinn is. And if I’m being honest, I had no soft or fuzzy feelings for him in the least. He is well and truly a complete douchebag. Not even a small glimmer of hope for this guy in the beginning. He basically rules the fraternity he is in with an iron fist and has them all taking part in his schemes.
A few months later, we meet Emilie Swanson when she goes to attend Quinn’s party for the Australian Open. She is an artist studying graphic design, but her parents don’t let her forget they wish she were majoring in pre-med or pre-law.
At the party for the Australian Open, my opinion of Quinn never changes. In fact my opinion of him probably gets worse as he steps up his douchebaggery. I’m serious, this guy, along with his half-brother and their fraternity brothers put the scum in scumbags.
I really liked that Lyla Payne didn’t hold back and let us really dislike Quinn. The book is told in duel point-of-view so we get to be inside of Quinn’s head half the time, which makes us maybe understand him a little bit more, but still doesn’t make us like him. We get to see the both of them falling in love with one another, while Quinn is still being a douchebag. (Have I used that word too much yet?)
I FINALLY started to like Quinn when he started realizing his feelings for Emilie and wanted to do what he thought was in her best interest. All while Emilie just wouldn’t give up on him. Honestly, I would have stop trying with Quinn early on in the game, but that’s just me. Emilie keeps pushing even when she knows she’s going to get burned in the end. And if that’s not love than I don’t know what is!
It’s hard not to fall in love Emilie. She is just such a relatable character with such a big heart that you can’t help but yell and cheer in her corner. This might possibly be why I didn’t like Quinn and continually refer to him as ‘The Douchebag’. When he hurt Emilie, it felt like he was hurting me as well.
Now, just because I didn’t like Quinn doesn’t mean I wasn’t on team Quinn and Emilie for the most part. I was, and Lyla Payne did a great job of taking me on their journey of seeing if they could find a place where all the pain from the past would be put behind them.
Overall, it was a good read and I would highly recommend it!
They
were strong and he smelled good. When I tipped my face up to say something, the
strength of the desire in his eyes punched me in the gut, tightening my fingers
in the curls on the back of his neck. He leaned down in front of everyone and
pressed his lips against mine, softly, then pulled back and kissed my nose.
“That’s
just a kiss. That’s not what happened on the beach.”
“Got
it,” I said, barely recognizing the breathy voice as my own.
“I
want you to forget about your dad and the art show, and Toby, and Annette.
Let’s pretend we’re the only ones here.” His husky voice shuddered into my
heart, pushing it into a gallop and making my legs shake.
“If
we were the only ones here, we wouldn’t be dancing.”
“Oh?
What would we be doing?”
I
loosed a shaky laugh. “The dirty talk is your specialty, Quinn, not mine. No
dice.”
“Fine,”
he sighed, pulling me flush against him.
There
were too many layers of taffeta and silk ruffles between us. I wanted to feel
my breasts press against the hair on his chest, feel his hot palms on my back.
When he lowered his head and tugged my earlobe between his teeth my knees
nearly buckled.
“First
of all, these clothes would be long gone,” he breathed into my ear. “I’d start
here.” He pressed a kiss to my throat, flicking his tongue over my pulse. “And
move down until I’d tasted every inch of you—and I have a feeling you are
delicious absolutely everywhere. You’d be hot, and wet, and ready for me.”
“Jesus,”
I gasped against his throat. “Stop.”
“No.
You don’t want me to. Just like you didn’t want to stop the first time we
kissed or the other night on the beach. You’re afraid, but you don’t want to
stop.” Quinn’s vibrant blue eyes challenged me to lie.
I
drank them in, completely gone. The desire to let him do everything he just
said and a whole lot more licked along my nerve endings. “I’m afraid you’re
going to break me, Quinn.”
“Don’t
let me.” The challenge in his eyes intensified, heating up and pouring strength
into me. “Don’t you let me fucking do that, Emilie. Don’t let anyone break you.
You’re stronger than that.”
His
opinion of me, the fact that he believed me tough enough to handle even a guy
like him, pushed me past the point of no return. What would I regret more,
sleeping with him or not sleeping with him? It was a tossup, but living meant
not being scared. “Okay.”
Relief
flooded his face and the sly grin reappeared.
I
returned it, feeling confident and beautiful for the first time in a long time.
“I won’t let you break me, Quinn. But right now I’d let you do about anything
else.”
Before he could comment I
took his hand and led him out of the ballroom.
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Website: http://lylapayne.com/
It just looks like a good story, one I'd really like. :-)
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