by L.A. Rose
Date Published: August 25, 2014
If there’s one thing Cleo Reynolds knows, it’s that she’s not into Adrian King.
The son of a model with the looks to prove it, the experienced author of her school newspaper’s sex advice column, the cocky playboy with a hint of darkness. That Adrian King.
Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.
The problem is, he’s very into her.
After accidentally flashing him, and slightly-less-accidentally-but-still-totally-unintentionally making out with him in front of the whole class, she expects to be called crazy. Instead, he asks her out.
Cleo’s determined not to end up as another notch on his bedpost. Except she hasn’t done…you know…it in a while. (Read: ever.) And as a girl who pays her tuition by writing all the sex scenes in her roommate’s bestselling romance series, the lack of inspiration has served up a fat slice of writer’s block.
Until her roommate proposes that Cleo and Adrian act out all the steamy scenes in her book.
It’s just research. No feelings involved.
“Christ,” Adrian finally mutters after a good half minute of staring at my body. He runs his hand through his hair.
I’m not saying my grand plan is to make him so worked up he’ll have to satisfy me. And then I can move on with my life.
I’m not saying that’s my plan, but if it were, I’d be an evil genius.
“You too,” I smirk, trailing my fingers down my bare waist. “That shirt looks expensive. Wouldn’t want to mess it up.”
Not taking his eyes from me, he pulls his shirt off, back over front in that casual way boys have. I gasp. Doves zoom overhead, sprinkling golden confetti. A chorus of angels sing. Okay, not all that actually happens, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him shirtless. And that chest deserves some fanfare.
His torso is tan, lithe and strong, the hard contours of a six-pack-verging-on-eight-pack begging to be licked. Every ounce of him is sculpted, refined. Just looking at him floods my abdomen with tension. There’s a swirling tattoo on the left side of his ribs, but I’m too busy thinking about how I want to mount his torso on my mantelpiece like a serial killer to dwell on it.
My roommate looks between us, her eyes narrowed. “You two seem to be getting along much better today.”
If by ‘getting along’ she means ‘staring at each other with enough sexual tension to hoist the Titanic from the bottom of the sea’ then yes.
“Remember, guys,” she says. “Last time was more about the romance between the characters. Their first kiss. This is purely sexual.” At the words ‘purely sexual’, a shiver grips my spine. I think Adrian might be similarly affected, because he hardens all over. And I mean all over.
“Come on, then,” I muster up the courage to say, fingering the lacy edge of my panties. “Inspire me.”
Reading Adrian Lessons definitely made my day or should I say, night, rather. I just devoured the whole book for a whole night. Even for a quick read, I have to this book is definitely one of the best I've ever read.
Cleo is on a dry spell. She's stuck and can't get her head properly to write erotic romance for her best friend/roommate. Meanwhile, Marie, her author best friend, thinks Cleo needs all the help she can get, even if it means anonymously writing the Sex King for advice on her behalf.
Adrian King is the Sex King and runs an sex advice column on the campus paper. What more could he wish for when he finds out his long time high school crush is in campus and was the anonymous sender who happens to be an erotica writer, asking for sex advice? Okay, well the letter wasn't exactly sent by Cleo, but it could count as the same thing.
Enter a matchmaking author roommate (who writes great romance novels but can't write smut), Cleo and Adrian are forced to act out the hook ups in order to trigger Cleo's creative juice.
I love everything about this book; the humor, the context, and the author's writing style. The whole story is written in first person, and not just simply flat out narration, but a genuine welcome to what most girls and guys think of. I enjoyed Cleo's narrative, especially the fact that she thinks hilariously. Definitely relatable. Her character is just lovable and absolutely fun to read. She's random with over the top hilarity and definitely does not register the meaning of "filter", because she's got none of it.
Adrian, on the other hand, was cute and creepy at the same time, especially when his sudden "obsession" (as Cleo would put it) with her suddenly went out in the open, up to the point of him ending his sex advice column as the sex king. Now, I'd say that was definitely sweet. I love how Adrian is a truly passionate character, and not the type to mess around hearts despite his promiscuity.
The only thing I disliked about this book was that it was too predictable. However, despite my comment, I loved this book from beginning to end. Can't wait to read more of L.A. Rose.
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L.A. ROSEL.A Rose recently made it out of college alive and with an English degree. She's a habitual beach bum and a not-exactly-recovered romance addict. She's also plucked up the courage to become an indie author.