Her father is a very wealthy man and she’s made a deal to work for him for a year before starting college in exchange for accessing her trust fund, which she can then use to help her struggling mother. The story then shifts back to the past, where we meet 19-year-old Cecilia who is reluctantly moving from her home in the city, to a small country town to spend 12 months with her estranged father. It’s time to confess, to myself more so than any other, that’ I’d hindered my chance of a normal and healthy relationship because of the way I was built, and because of the men who built me.Īt this point, I just want to make peace with who I am, no matter what ending I get. The distorted kind that leaves scars and jaded hearts. The only love I’ve ever known or craved is the kind that keeps me sick, sick with longing, sick with lust, sick with need, sick with grief. The prologue had me instantly intrigued, introducing us to Cecilia, who is travelling to revisit her past and reflecting on her life.

It’s a story that needs to be slowly uncovered, and I loved getting caught up in the twists and turns. The blurb is really vague, and the cover is kinda creepy, I had no idea what to expect going into this one, but that’s a very good thing. I was completely swept up in the wonder and excitement of it all and couldn’t put it down, reading it in one sitting and desperate for more! It’s an emotionally raw coming-of-age story that is full of intrigue, with a love story that is dripping with chemistry that had me absolutely floored with its passion and intensity. Kate Stewart has delivered something very different with this book – the first in the Ravenhood Duet. Unique, intriguing and steamily romantic – 5 stars! Looking back, I’m convinced I willed my story into existence due to my illness. At least that was the case for me and the men I trusted my foolish heart to. You can’t re-live your own love story, because by the time you’ve realized you’re living it, it’s over. That’s the novelty of fiction versus reality.

But in order to keep them, I had to be in on their secrets.

Triple Falls wasn’t at all what it seemed, nor were the men that swept me under their wing. I gave into temptation and fed the beating beast, which grew thirstier with every slash, every strike, every blow. When I lived this story, my own twisted fairy tale, it was unbeknownst to me at the time because I was young and naïve. I grew up believing that real love stories include a martyr or demand great sacrifice to be worthy.īecause of that, I believed it, because I made myself believe it, and I bred the most masochistic of romantic hearts, which resulted in my illness.

Kate stewart flock