In order to approach REAL in any manner, I have to treat it as a fantasy. That’s sort of ironic considering the book’s title. I have to get unreal about REAL for good reason. If I try to consider this book to be remotely based in reality I won’t be able to write this review. When I’m in my fantasy bubble, I can accept a lot of things that my inner pragmatist struggles with.
Things like Remy’s changing eye color. Or the idea that this man would not currently be incarcerated after all of the destruction he leaves in his wake. That a woman like Brooke would get anywhere near an underground fighting scene. That Remy would inspire so much devotion from the people who are constantly tasked to clean up after him. That he’d be wealthy enough to support his lifestyle. That he rarely speaks and yet people seem to understand him.
Or that middle schools hire athletic trainers.
All of that said, I enjoyed the hell out of REAL. For real. No…really.
Let’s start with the introduction of Brooke and Remy.
“Remy! Remy!” Mel shouts hysterically at my side, hands cupped to her mouth. “You’re so fucking hot, Remy!”
His head angles to the sound, one dimple showing with a sexy smile as he faces us. A frisson of nervous energy passes through me, not because he’s extremely gorgeous from this perfect view—because he is, he definitely is, goodness, he really is—but mostly because he’s looking straight at me.
One eyebrow cocks, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his entrancing blue eyes. Also something … warm in his gaze. Like he thinks I’m the one who shouted. Oh, shit.
He winks at me, and I’m stunned as his smile slowly fades, morphing into one that’s unbearably intimate.
My blood simmers.
My sex clenches tight, and I hate that he seems to know it. I can see he thinks he’s the ultimate creation, and he seems to believe every woman here is his Eve, created from his ribcage for him to enjoy. I’m both aroused and infuriated, and this is the most confusing feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.
Eventually Remington RIPTIDE Tate hires Brooke for athletic rehabilitation and she joins him for three months on the road. She’s hot for him. He’s clearly hot for her. He barely speaks…but he does have an outstanding iPod library of 20,000 songs. Remy speaks to Brooke mostly through music. His first song to her is “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls.
And I’d give up forever to touch you …
Cause I know that you feel me somehow…
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ve ever been and I don’t want to go home right now…
Bold, Remy. Bold. And confusing as hell. And VERY hot.
The previous line essentially sums up the first half of the book. It’s a slow, steady, frustrating burn. Pure foreplay. You’re so worked up by the time they actually do get it on that you’re about to start panting.
Of course, once they act on their shared passion the shit starts to hit the fan (over and over and over).
The book has a great playlist, sampling from many genres. I must say, if I were to add one, it would be Amy Winehouse’s cover of “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”?
Remy has a bipolar disorder. The calmer his mental state is, the bluer his eyes are. When he cycles manic, his eyes get darker, eventually turning black. When he’s manic (or “speedy” as Remy’s circle calls it), he commits crimes, breaks everything in site, has sex for days on end, and doesn’t remember any of it after he cycles back to blue eyes again.
Clear exposition, rising action, climax, and falling action here. We do eventually hear from Remy in the last two chapters of the book. Honestly, the entire novel is an exercise in delayed gratification, but the ending is plenty satisfying. Afterglow is probably the right word.
I look forward to the next two books in this series, MINE and REMY, both coming in Fall 2013.
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