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410 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 10, 2020
5 narcissistic 🌟
“Why are you such a hippie?”
“Why are you such a mobster?”
“I’d follow this man to the fiery gates of hell if he just held my hand.”
“Heavy breaths and Russian words. Stars on his shoulders. Stars in my eyes.”
“What do you want?”
Anything.
Everything.
“Ivory skin and goose bumps. Soaked Brioni and tattoos. Selflessness and greed.”
“In this world, things weren’t black and white.
I preferred yellow anyway.”
“I wouldn’t hand this devil my soul.
If he wanted it, he’d have to rip it from my chest.”
“It’s just so romantic. A Russian winter wonderland, very sturdy medieval doors, and an age gap. I’m living in a Disney movie.”
“Handsome in the way rough palms muffle screams, the way people bow to kings, and most of all . . . the way an angel falls from grace.”
“Instead of enjoying the sight, I experienced an urge to pull the fabric down and wondered if this was what human decency felt like. Slightly nauseating.”
“Ronan . . . did Moscow get an Eiffel Tower of its own recently?”
“I would never allow that kind of romantic tourism in my city.”
“Am I that easy to leave, kotyonok?”
“The moonlight loved her.
But not as much as my shadows.”
“Ivory and tan skin. French-tipped nails and tattoos. Soft and rough.”
“Does it make you feel big and strong to push me around?”
“No. It makes me hard.”
“You should treat me like anyone else who happens to look at you the wrong way.”
“I find your sacrificial lamb mentality nauseating.”
“I loved his black and his gray and every shade in between.”
“Just let me die here in peace.”
“I like this room. Go die downstairs.”
“I loved Gianna for years before she ever even looked at me. Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.”
“Just remember . . . you have a goddess inside you.” She stepped into the hall and turned to look at me. “You just have to find her.”
“Ivan lunged for me but halted when Kristian pulled out his gun and aimed it at his head, tumbler still in hand.”
“He lifted her, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you, Papa.”
His eyes softened. “I love you too, malen’kaya volchitsa.”
“I’m sure you’re only so rude because of lots of past ’motional trauma.” Then she added, “No offense, of course.”
“Darkness there, and nothing more”
↠ so this is about Mila Mikhailova (h) wanting answers about her shady father and past because she's been sheltered her whole life. so she traveled to Russia and that's lo and behold that's where she meets Ronan Markov (H) who seems like the perfect gentleman but as it turns out, he's the biggest dick ever because he suddenly kidnaps and holds Mila as a prisoner in exchange for her father, because yes, her dad was dick too so it's just your typical men fighting over who has the biggest dick/ego.
1. they eat breakfast.
2. banter for a little bit while eating breakfast.
3.ronan seduces mila (the audacity i know).
4. banter some more where they may or may not almost kiss.
5. H leaves her alone.
6. repeat.
↳ "Please don't eat me," I blurted unsteadily. "I won't taste very good to you. I'm vegan."
Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. Like Russian roulette. A revolver and one bullet. A single wrong blink, and I’d be dead.
Strawberries & Cigarettes – Troye Sivan
Feelings – Lauv
❄️ russian mobster anti-hero
🌼 sweet & sassy virgin heroine
❄️ captor/captive romance with dub-con
🌼 age-gap (h is 20, H is 32)
❄️ a journey through winter wonderland in Russia
Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. Like Russian. A revolver and one bullet. A single wrong blink, and I'd be dead. But it also evoked a whisper of adrenaline, as warm as half a bottle of UV Blue and the Miami sun.
Heavy breaths and Russian words. Stars on his shoulders. Stars in my eyes.
"No one can save you from me." His eyes shone indifference laced with a dark edge. "Not even God."
"You are late for breakfast, devushka."
"Just let me die here in peace."
"I like this room. Go die downstairs."
I thought he was handsome. Handsome in the way rough palms muffle screams, the way people bow to kings, and most of all.. The way an angel falls from grace.
I went to slide my fingers through her ponytail but stopped the impulse when I realized the ridiculous shit I just thought. Hitting my thirties had made me disgustingly sentimental.
"You're not thinking about shooting me, are you?"
Eyes sliding to his, I grasped onto the first response that popped into my mind. "Depends. Would you die, or does it take a stake through your heart? I don't want to waste my time."
"A bullet hasn't killed me yet, but there's always a first time for everything."
“Touch my wife, and what my brother has done to you will suddenly look like fun.”
Am I missing something? I don't like this story. What happened?
I said The Kiss Thief because of: (1) the age gap; (2) the arranged marriage or captivity situation (the point is the chacarcters live in hostility under the same roof); (3) the revenge and mafia nuance; (4) the hate to love romance; and (5) the “I don’t believe you’re still a virgin” sex.
I said SAK because I think Mila can be one of her self sacrificing, vulnerable, and devoted to a fault heroines. Save from the fact that those traits in her didn’t exactly come off as being . . . desperate for love but sometimes were still mildly frustrating. Cause hey, I love me some pride, self respect, and self preservation.
“Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.”
“I can’t imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow doesn’t exist. So if you die, you’ll take me with you.”
“The moonlight loved her.
But not as much as my shadows.”
I wouldn’t hand this devil my soul. If he wanted it, he’d have to rip it from my chest.
The moonlight loved her.
But not as much as my shadows.
🌻🖤🌻🖤🌻The review🖤🌻🖤🌻🖤🌻
♪But I get tired of runnin'
Fuck it, now I'm runnin' with you (wit' you)
Said, boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday
Then make a lotta love on a Monday
Never need no, no one else, babе
'Cause I'll be
Switchin' the positions for you
Cookin' in thе kitchen and I'm in the bedroom
I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops
Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn't do
That I won't do, switchin' for you♪
I wondered if his voice tasted like vodka too; if it would burn my throat and warm my stomach. I felt . . . weird.
He tasted like cinnamon,
corruption, and something so masculine I inhaled deeply to breathe him in.
"Ty sukin syn.” You son of a bitch.
I chuckled. “Bitch is appropriate, but ‘cunt’ would be a better description of my mother.”
“You touched her,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
“My mother?” I parried with amusement. “No. Even I find incest unappealing.” Then I added, “Not to mention, not a huge fan of STDs.”
He made a bitter sound. “I’m sure you have a history with them. You’ve fucked half the city.”
“Nah. I always wrap it up.” And then I drawled a popular health provider’s slogan. “Prevention is the key to health and happiness."
I didn’t want her; I needed her.
If this was what they called “love,” then I’d own it.
I never did anything half-ass.
“Because you’re so sweet you fucking glow.”
His eyes darkened.
“And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take that light from you.”
"I may not be free,
but my soul was still mine."
“I’m just saying, when someone says ‘Albert,’ expectations are formed.
Old men with cheerful personalities, to be exact. You’ve crushed those expectations, Albert.”
“I’d peg you as more of an . . . Igor.”
"If I could long for the devil,
it meant I had some darkness in me too."
I may have never gotten the family or love I’d always wanted, but at least I could say I gave it my best shot.
In this world, things weren’t black and white.
I preferred yellow anyway.
We were so close I couldn’t breathe.
So close, yellow and black almost touched.
So close, I could kiss him with a small rise to my toes
I slid my hand into his. Ivory and tan skin.
French-tipped nails and tattoos.
Soft and rough.
The difference flared in slow motion.
A brow rose. “And what am I doing?”
“You’re trying to Stockholm syndrome me.” I thought he wanted to laugh.
“I don’t think that’s a verb.”
“Like I need grammar advice from someone who uses ‘fuck’ as a noun,
verb, and adverb in a single sentence.” “Fuck is versatile.”
“Not that versatile.”
I wanted her to need me; to beg, live,
and breathe just for me.
I can’t imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow doesn’t exist.
So if you die, you’ll take me with you. Your sacrifice would mean nothing, kotyonok. NOTHING.”
The sickly-sweet girl with a soft heart and love of yellow had somehow filled a blank space inside me. And I couldn’t handle the thought of her anywhere else but with me.
“I really want chocolate chips in my pancake. And Fruit Woops. It would make me so happy, Papa!” It was clear by Christian’s enamored expression, there’d be chocolate and rainbow-colored cereal in his daughter’s pancakes come hell or high water."
I stopped on the sidewalk and lifted my eyes to the sky to watch snow fall for the first time. It was like someone above had torn their wedding dress apart and let the pieces of tulle float to the pavement. I caught a flake in my palm,
studying how it melted on my skin within seconds.
"Months ago, I didn’t believe in suspicions. Yet so much had convinced me otherwise. Maybe I was wrong about happily ever afters too. Maybe they really did exist. Just not with a shining knight in armor, but with the villain."
"You would survive without me. You would move on. I can't imagine a world where you and all your fucking yellow don't exist. So, if you die, you'll take me with you. Your sacrifice would mean nothing, kotyonok. NOTHING"