Friday, 12 December 2014

Blog Tour: Mia Asher's "Easy Virtue (Virtue # 1."

The Hopeless Romantics Book Blog are pleased to be a part of the Blog Tour for Mia Asher's "Easy Virtue (Virtue # 1)."

Amazon UK:
Love is selfish...

My name is Blaire.
I'm the bad girl.
The other woman.
The one who never gets the guy in the end.

I'm the gold digger.
The bitch.
The one no one roots for.
The one you love to hate.
I hate myself too...

Everyone has a story. Are you ready for mine?

Review: Surj Harvey

Well, I finally popped my Mia Asher cherry... yes yes I know I'm a little late to the party but wow, what a way to break myself in....  gentle it most definitely was not, but absolutely worth every bump, every knock, every twist I encountered on my journey through this book. "Easy Virtue" was not a love story, not by a long shot and it took balls to do what Mia Asher did, not only with the story line but with the characters too. This author defied convention and went completely against the grain so to speak. I struggled with my conscience, questioned my moral integrity and ultimately faced a stand off between my head and my heart. I willed for the story line to take a different direction, pleaded with the characters to make the right choices and prayed for outcomes to be anything other than what I knew they would be... I didn't get my way with any of them and so as I read, I read so with a heavy heart, any glimmer of hope fading fast with the turn of every page. 

I'm selling my soul. And the sad part is... I don't care. 

With the synopsis giving very little away, this is definitely one of those books you need to go into blind, especially if you want to feel the full impact of Blaire's story. I felt sad, angry, furious and even frustrated at times. There were moments a nervous settled in the pit of my stomach at how things might unravel and there were absolutely times when I felt devastated. 

Blaire's character was not your typical heroine... hell no. As the synopsis says, she was a gold digger, a bitch, some would say even a whore. Her behaviour should have made me despise her, her actions should have made me sick to my stomach but I couldn't bring myself to feel any of those things. Instead, as I peeled back the many layers to this woman, I found someone who was broken, who was so tragically flawed. Someone who craved love and affection but would fight those feelings in fear of being hurt and rejected again. Instead, she would use what God gave her and use it as a weapon to get achieve her ultimate goal: to feel worthy, wanted and desired, all things that would make her feel powerful. I was so conflicted in my thoughts over Blaire's behaviour... on the one hand I completely got it but on the other... I saw what this beautiful girl could have if she just opened up and let someone in. I wanted to shake her, tell her to wake up and smell the coffee but the damage had been done and a fortress build a long ago. No one got in and Blaire's openness and frankness kept people out. 

I wasn't born a monster, though my choices have certainly made me one. 
But I can't stop myself. I can't. Causing pain to others when I'm suffering soothes me. 

Ronan completely stole my heart. He was just beautiful and down to earth and very early on, I could see that given the opportunity, he would cherish the very ground Blaire walked on. he was every girl's dream... he was Blaire's dream but would she let him in or would she run a mile in fear? And Lawrence... my billionaire who had always got what he wanted... I mean everything has a price right? And if you have the money of course you'd never want for anything. But there was something about him... what was I missing? I knew very little about him and I needed more. Who was this man? I needed inside his head but the opportunity never came. Fingers crossed, book two will shed some light on his character. 

I know what you're thinking ladies... she mentioned men... as in plural ... as in two and that could only mean one thing... cheating. Nope, not in this book. However, each of these characters will leave you torn and I have a feeling there will be women all over the world  spitting feathers as to which team to side with. Me... at the moment I'm team Ronan all the way. Trust me, when you meet him, the butterflies in your belly will go crazy and you'll be desperate for Blaire to give her heart to him. 

Mia Asher's "Easy Virtue" was a tragic, heart wrenching and thought provoking read that kept me up all night. I couldn't put Blaire's story down and I was desperate for her to get her HEA... unfortunately it didn't happen. Instead I got an ending that made my heart skip a beat and then completely bottom out. no freakin' way!!!! woo hoo was my first reaction... Oh shit was what came straight after. 

Love is selfish. Love is unkind. Love hurts.

If you love Mia Asher's work, you will hands down love this. If you're a Mia Asher virgin like me, then hit that one click button now. I promise you, you won't regret it.  The story line had a unique quality about it and the characters had flaws (the likes we rarely see in romance). Couple that with  the flawless writing that ensured that I felt every single bit of emotion, every struggle, every conflict, every hope, every dream, every fear our heroine Blaire went through and this book was just perfect. Honestly, give this one a go.... like now.. did I say that already? Lol !!! 

I rated "Easy Virtue" ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️


With champagne and caviar inundating my every sense, I slither through the light wooden floors of the Lila Acheson Wallace Wing in The Met. As I walk, I pretend to admire the expensive jewelry being showcased tonight by a famous designer whose name I can’t remember. A multicolored diamond butterfly sparkles to my left and a cobra made out of black stones glistens to my right. Rows upon rows of precious gems twinkle under the soft lights of the room, flooding the space between the walls with the glow of a thousand stars. Furtive glances. Secrets gossiped. Beauty criticized. Lofty music fills the atmosphere as the über rich mingle and pretend to like each other, yet you can almost taste their conceit and derision for one another in the air.

This is Walker’s world, and I love it.

Standing across the room, where the crowd is thinner and the music fainter, I spot Walker’s blond head in the corner of the room, talking to a group of his colleagues and their wives. He looks polished and worth every penny of his trust fund in his sleek black tuxedo, perfectly starched white shirt and black bowtie. His long golden hair parted to the side shines like the sun. He is truly flawless.

I smile because it’s hard to picture that this is the same guy who likes to snort coke off my tits as he fucks me while hardcore porn plays in the background. He looks untouchable and so cool, but his searching eyes, scanning the crowd for me give him up. He’s wondering where I am. He did tell me not to go too far, after all. Soon after we arrived at the party, I gave him some space to talk to his friends and do his thing while I did mine. I hate clingy people, so I avoid being one.

I grab a third flute of champagne from a passing waiter, and try to decide which of the different displays to check out first when my eyes land on a spectacular piece of jewelry. On a bed of black silk, similar to my hair color, lies an extravagant necklace made of diamonds and rubies—a small heaven within one’s reach as long as you can afford the price.

I bridge the space between the glass protecting the necklace and me until it’s within my reach, fighting the urge to touch the cool surface. As if under a spell, I observe how the rows of diamonds embedded in platinum form leaves and thorns. At its center is a rose made out of red diamonds almost as big as my palm.

I feel someone walk up and stand next to me, but I don’t give him or her a second thought as I continue to admire the way the light hits the gems, making them shine.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

His voice is smooth and commanding, dripping absolute power. I keep my eyes locked on the display. Call it sixth sense, but somehow I know that under no circumstance should I make eye contact with the stranger who speaks like the ruler of the world.

“Yes,” I say simply.

“I wonder how much it is?” the man asks.

“I don’t think it matters … I highly doubt anyone can afford it.”

He chuckles, and the sound is more delicious than his voice. Lusher. “Oh, but I can.”

I smile at his self-assurance. I love cocky assholes. “I still doubt it.”

“You shouldn’t. I only speak the truth,” he retorts coolly. His voice is nonchalant yet his words leave no room for disbelief—a demand and a statement all in one.

Suddenly, the noises of the room become distant. People talking and laughing amongst friends and the orchestra playing all fade away until all I hear is him speaking.

And at this moment, that is all that matters.

“The truth is very subjective, sir.”

“The truth may be subjective but money isn’t. Money can buy anything.”

His answer is like an electroshock, jumpstarting my brain from a champagne-induced haze. My pulse begins to accelerate, excitement making it hard to take a deep breath. Don’t look at him … don’t.

“Oh really,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He’s right, though.

“Of course. I believe everything,” he pauses, “and everyone has a price.”

Curiosity winning the battle against curiosity, I turn to face him, and what a fucking big mistake that is. When our eyes meet, I feel incapacitated of all sense and movement. The sight of him takes my breath away. This man gives the term “lust at first sight” a whole new meaning.

In my short twenty-three years, I’ve been with extremely handsome men, perfect even, but to classify the man standing next to me in any kind of category would be a disservice to him, and not really fair to the others. Longish, light brown hair wildly framing his face, vacant eyes the color of dollar bills, a slightly crooked nose, and a mouth that begs to be buried deep within your thighs. His beauty is as harsh as it is stunningly perfect. Dressed in a simple black tuxedo and unbuttoned white shirt, the man exudes innate virility and grace, reminding me of a black panther stalking his prey. And just like a panther, it’s the pure raw and powerful energy emanating from within him that I find most attractive. Because just by standing next to him, I get the sense that his word is always the last spoken and his wishes the first ones to be fulfilled. He doesn’t ask, he demands. He doesn’t hope, he expects.

He’s quiet for a moment; his uncanny eyes hold me captive as though they are baring my soul to him and I hate it. I tighten my hold on the crystal flute. I want to look away, but I can’t. The way he’s staring at me makes me want to squirm.

“I wonder … do you have one?” he asks softly before turning to examine the piece of jewelry once more.

“A what?” I ask, momentarily stunned.

He smiles. “A price.”

“For the right amount … I just might,” I say quietly, my heart beating so fast it feels as though it wants out of my chest. As soon as the words leave my mouth, there’s no shock coursing down my body, no rolling waves of shame pulling me down for having said that to a complete stranger—nothing.

And why should there be? I am who I am.

I’m staring at his profile, waiting for him to acknowledge my answer, when a breeze of cool air floats past us, making me shiver. About to chase the goose bumps on my arm with my hand, I watch as he slowly turns to look at me, catching me staring at him. Time stands still as I watch him raise his large tanned hand and touch my bare shoulder, his fingertips lightly grazing the temporary small bumps covering it. Then he smiles as if he knows that my skin is tingling from his scalding touch, and looks away.

“I thought so.”

We remain standing next to each other for another minute or so, the distance between us almost nonexistent. It would be so easy to reach out and hold his hand. The sound of an incoming call breaks the silence, bringing us back to reality.

He takes his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and ignores the call after noting the name of the caller. He lifts his gaze to meet my own.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I should go … I’m here with someone,” I reply, not really wanting to leave him just yet.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

I frown. He didn’t have to be quite so blunt. The stranger extends a hand toward me, holding something in his fingers.

“Here … ”

I open my hand as I feel the edges of what I assume is his business card poke the skin of my palm. “What’s this?” I ask stupidly.

“My business card, of course.”

“Obviously … but why?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say that I’m an interested buyer.”

And then he’s gone.

He turns and walks away from me, disappearing into a sea of colorful gowns and black suits. As the sounds of the party infiltrate my ears once more, I lower my gaze to stare at the simple cream-colored card in my hand. Its simplistic and elegant design draws attention to the name printed in bold black letters on the paper.

Lawrence Rothschild.

I smile and let my fingertips trail his name. It depends on what you’re willing to pay, Mr. Rothschild.
About the Author:

Mia Asher

My name is Mia Asher.

I'm a writer, a hopeless romantic, a wanderer, a dreamer, a cynic, and a believer. And, oh yes…I might be a bit crazy - but who isn't?

GIVEAWAY: Signed set of a Broken Love Story (Arsen & Easy Virtue)
a Rafflecopter giveaway

No comments:

Post a Comment