Love the Way You Lie by Skye Warren
Publisher: Amazon Digital (3/12/2015)
Series: Stripped, book 1
Genre: Contemporary, New Adult Romance
Source: Xpresso Book Tours
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A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…
I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town.
I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers.
I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft.
He’s the one man who wants to help me, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of?
You.
about Skye || Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.
1. Can you introduce yourself and tell us what kind of books
you write?
I’m Skye Warren, the
New York Times bestselling author of dark romance! Thank you so much for the
opportunity to share my new release, Love the Way You Lie. It explores taboo
themes like betrayal and redemption, overlayed with suspense. If you’re up for
something dangerous, disturbing and erotic, take a look…
2. What is Love the Way You Lie About?
Love the Way You Lie
has a stripper heroine and a mysterious lone biker who is first her customer,
then her lover, then her… well, you’ll have to read to find out. What you
should know is that the book is dark, edgy, and sexy as hell.
This is the first
book in a new series set in a strip club called The Grand.
3. Who is your favorite character in the book?
I love my
heroes—their gruffness, their pain, their occasional cruelty. But I have a real
soft spot for my heroines. So I would have to say I loved Honey the most. She
is beaten down but determined, bent but not broken. For me that’s what strength
is about.
4. What is the hardest part of writing for you?
Nothing and everything. I love the actual
writing, coming up with a story and falling in love with them. But reader
expectation is such a tough thing—it’s tough in any genre but has particular
challenges for dark books. Even the word dark
means different things to different readers. But ultimately I can only write
the books I love and hope that my readers enjoy them.
5. What do you love about alpha heroes? Or anti-heroes, if
that applies?
Why are these
anti-heroes so damn appealing? Well, for one thing, they are tough and driven.
They don’t take crap from anyone…even the heroine, sometimes. They often do
follow their own code of honor, it just doesn’t necessarily match everyone
else’s. But I think it’s something more elemental than that. A man who takes
what he wants, damn the rules? Well…it’s plain sexy.
6. What makes a sex scene sexy to you? Or alternately, what
do you do to write hot scenes?
I love a scene I can
get lost in, both the physical sensations and the emotional resonance. And what
I find most sexy is when power comes into play. Not with games, but where one
side has the upper hand, the mingling of distrust and desire, of wariness and
want.
7. What else should readers know about Love the Way You Lie?
The Grand used to be a
theater, back when the city did more tourist trade than drug trafficking. Back
when you could walk down this street without getting mugged. They held ballets
and operas and one infamous magic show where a man was killed by a faulty fake
gun. Over the years the shows visited less and less. This whole part of the city
became gutted, empty. Attempts to revitalize the theater failed because the
good, rich folk who had money to spend on theater tickets didn’t want to come
to these streets.
Now the building is just
a husk of its former glory—faded metallic wallpaper and ornate molding with the
gold paint scraping off. Tables and chairs fill the smoky, dark floor. There is
a balcony in the back, but it isn’t open to the public.
The rooms for private
dances used to be ticket stalls in what would have been the lobby.
They don’t have doors.
They barely even have walls. The front window partitions have been ripped away,
with only brass rods and velvet curtains to cover them.
The first is occupied by
Lola. A flash of red fabric and a long mane of hair between the curtain tells me
that much. And I know from her position on the floor and the soft groans that
he’s paid for more than a dance.
The second room is
empty.
The third room is the
farthest from the main floor. The darkest. I can only make out a shadow seated
in the chair. All I want is to get the hell out of here, but Blue is standing
behind me, crowding me, and the only way to get space, the only place to go is
inside.
I slip past the heavy
velvet curtain and wait for my eyes to adjust. Even before they do, I know it
will be him. Not safe, rule-following Charlie. It’s the other man. The new one.
The one with the strange intensity in his stare.
I see the outline of his
jacket first. And his boots, forming that same configuration—one leg shoved
out, one under the chair. That’s the way he sits, almost sprawled on the
uncomfortable wooden chair. He’s watching me. Of course he’s watching me.
That’s what he paid to do.
“What’ll it be?” I ask.
“What’s on the menu?” he
counters, and I know what he means. He means extra services. The same thing
that Lola is doing now. More than just a dance. He looks out from the shadows
like the Cheshire cat, all eyes and teeth and challenge. All he’s missing are
purple stripes filling in.
And if he’s a cop, he
can bust me just for offering it. Cops should have better things to do with
their time. But I already know cops don’t do what they should. I know that too
well.
I’m running from one.
“A dance, of course.” I
run through the prices for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes. No one needs longer
than that. They either go to the bathroom to jerk off or come in their pants.
“And if I want more than
that?”
Now that my eyes have
adjusted, now that I’m up close, I can see the tats at the base of his neck and
on his wrists. They are probably along his arms and maybe his chest. There’s
ink on his hands too, though I can’t make out what it says.
His black shirt is tight
enough to show me his shape, the broad chest and flat abs. Underneath the shirt
is a chain or necklace. I can only see the imprint, but it makes me want to
pull up the fabric and find out what it is.
He wears his leathers
like a second skin, like they’re armor and he’s a fighter. I can’t really
imagine him walking through a precinct in a blue shirt. He’s not a cop. But
there was that feeling, when I was onstage. I felt his interest, more than
sexual. I felt his suspicion. I felt every instinct telling me he is there for
more than a dance. I can’t afford not to listen.
“There’s no more than
that,” I answer flatly.
He grunts, clearly
displeased. But it doesn’t sound like he’s going to force the issue—or complain
to Blue. “Then dance.”
Right. That’s why I’m
here. That’s not disappointment, heavy in my gut. I don’t expect anything from
men except to get paid. So I dance, starting slow, moving my hips, my arms,
touching my breasts. I’m a million miles away like this. I’m lying on my back,
feeling crisp grass underneath my legs, looking up at the night sky.
It almost works, except
that I need to get close to him. I need to climb onto him, straddling his legs
with mine, reaching for the back of the chair to shake my tits in his face. And
when I do, I smell him. He smells…not like smoke. Not like sweat.
He smells like my daydream,
like grass and earth and clean air.
I freeze above him, body
crouched, my breasts still shivering with leftover momentum.
“Something wrong?” he
asks.
And his voice. God, his
voice. It’s gone rough and low, all the way to the ground. It slides along the
creaky wood of the chair and the concrete floor and vibrates
up my legs. It
shimmers through the air and brushes over my skin, that voice. We’re not
touching in any place, but I can feel him just the same.
I swallow hard.
“Nothing’s wrong, sugar.”
“Then sit down.”
He means on his lap.
Touching. It’s against the rules, officially.
Unofficially it’s one of
the tamer things that happen in this room. “What if I don’t want to?”
One large shoulder
lifts, making the leather sigh. “I won’t make you.”
I hear the unspoken word
yet ring in the air.
I should probably refuse
him. Whether he’s a cop or not, he’s throwing me off. That’s dangerous. And if
there’s some other cop in the building? That’s even more dangerous.
But for some reason, I
lower myself until I’m resting on his jeans, my posture awkward and off
balance—until he shifts, and suddenly I’m sliding toward him, flush against him
while I straddle his legs. Then his arms circle my body, trapping me. Any
second now he’s going to grope me. Maybe take his dick out and fuck me like
this. It wouldn’t be the first time.
But he just stays like
that, arms firm but gentle. A hug. This is a hug.
Jesus. How long has it
been since a man hugged me? Just that, without touching anywhere else, without
his dick inside me? A long time.
This is a story about a girl who is on the run, trying her damnedest to keep she and her sister safe. She never thought she'd strip or have sex for money, but she's managed to hit a rock bottom that has her doing just that.
She is being controlled by a man who is helping her, but has the ability to damage her just the same.
Honey, given name Honor, ended up at The Grand due to her mother's diary. She's trying to learn not about her death and the last thing she expected was to end to at a strip club.
The thing with Honor is it's "easy" to give lap dances, even the occasional favor (much to her dismay), because she's running from a relationship that wasn't exactly healthy in the intimacy department. When she thinks back six months prior, my goodness, I wanted to cry for the girl. In those earlier month's thoughts, we learn she is a mafia daughter -- simply a pawn.
She's warned against Kip, but there's something about him that gets her senses piqued. She notices him before she sees him. She smells him before she knows he's there. Her body is stunned to him...
...but she's been told to stay away.
I enjoyed reading the strength that Honor exudes. Yes, she's managed to stumble to an all-time low and is doing things she swore she'd never do, but she's learning to compartmentalize. The thing with her lifestyle is that it HAPPENS. For some, this is their escape.
This was well written, and the character development was well done. My only problem then, if you will, is that I have a hard time fathoming long-lasting relationships that start with sex and lies... So maybe we'll have a chance to catch up with these two in future books to see how they're doing.
{ giveaway } .
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