November 5, 2016 by Evelyn Summers
He’s hot. Like, stop breathing kind of hot with his killer body, vivid blue eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow.
Did I mention his body?
Watching Hollis Knightly, Olympic diving gold medalist, man-pony specialist—and cocky bastard—stand up on the diving platform in nothing but a small piece of Spandex? Yeah, I’m beguiled.
And easily seduced.
I want to keep things light but he won’t leave me alone. And hell, if he’s not wearing me thin.
What is supposed to be a simple summer fling with a very hot man, has now morphed into a f*cked-up mess of feelings, attachment, and dare I say it…love. But I don’t do relationships. And Hollis Knightly does.
Themes: sports, unrequited love
Is it the joking Hollis who always wants my boob in his mouth? Or is it the serious Hollis, the one that tears my walls down with one heated gaze in my direction, the one who speaks of the possibilities of forever?
This is the final instalment of the Stroked trilogy – one of the strongest series of 2016 – and I’m actually pretty devastated that that’s it. I’m going to come straight out and say that I preferred Stroked Long, simply because, out of the three, it gripped me emotionally and refused to ever let go, making my heart physically ache. I didn’t quite get that same feeling here, and in some respects I felt Melony was a little immature with how her daddy issues affected her. Regardless, this was still a pleasure to read.
To me, the sexiest sight in the world is a woman right before she’s about to be eaten out, right before you place your tongue on her clit because she knows the pleasure that’s coming.
Hollis is right up there with my top book boyfriends. Quinn has, once again, created fabulously complex characters, and men to actually fall deeply in love with. She has basically ruined me single-handedly because no one ever lives up to these incredible fictional characters. Thank you Meghan Quinn for ruining my relationship. (It’s cool, I forgive you, he wasn’t worth it anyway). But damn, I loved his romanticism, and his mad sex skills, too. Yep – two of the sex scenes in this book were masturbation-inducing, but at least I got some use out of my new vibrator.
“Hey, it’s 2016, baby. Romance is all about dirty talk, secret rendezvous, and attentive fucking. Flowers, candies, and poems are old school.
As ever, a deeply sweet, absolutely filthy, fucking hilarious read from one of the top authors around. I can’t wait for what comes next, and in the meantime I’ll be delving into Quinn’s back category.
Now, time to make this review Amazon-friendly.