Saturday, June 14

***BLOG TOUR, REVIEW & PROMO*** Therapist By Jaden Wilkes

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Title: Therapist
Author: Jaden Wilkes
Release Date:  May 19, 2014


Synopsis:

I am a sociopath. 

I know this because I diagnosed myself.

I have a PhD in Clinical Psychology from a very prestigious university.

I am charming, attractive, and you probably want to sleep with me.

I take what I want, when I want, and I enjoy picking the most tragic of all my patients to experiment with.

I have no remorse, I am unrelenting in my pursuit of tragedy, and I am about to meet my match.

Her name is not important, I am only allowed to call her Mistress. She is a femme fatale, a patient, and now an obsession.

She will destroy me, I will do anything to get inside of her.

I can already feel her inside of me.


**Trigger warning. This novel contains situations of perversity and dubious consent. It is not a love story, but more of a journey through a few short days in the life of a madman. What you see is not always what you get, reality is altered through his eyes and sometimes there is no happily ever after.


My Review:

Gosh, where do I even start with this book. It really did take me awhile to decide how i felt about it. I finished reading it and thought, holy shit, what the fuck did i just read? Therapist is certainly NOT a book that will suit everyone. It is full of suspense, mystery, lust and crazy fucking characters. It sucked me in from the beginning and spat me back out at the end, it left me feeling so damn emotional that I didn't know which way was up.

Therapist is brilliantly written in a way that has you on the edge of your seat the entire way through it. I could not stop reading because I HAD to know, what was going to happen next to the man that was confusing the hell out of me. Meet Dr. Alexandre Dane, a gorgeous psychologist, dirty talking sex fiend and an all around crazy man. He preys on the weak, his practices not always conventional. One day, he meets a woman who changes everything. Alexandre's world is altering, in ways not even he can explain. If you think you know where this story is going, think again. 

I loved that no matter how hard i tried to guess what was really going on, I couldn't. For me, that made Therapist all the more exciting to read. I must admit, Dr.Dane was not in my good books for most of this intriguing story, I couldn't stand the man. He was not my kind of hero. HOWEVER, by the end, I cried for him, I felt his pain and I think I even fell for him. I wish I knew more of his story because he intrigues me like no other has. He is the way he is for certain reasons, can he find redemption? I hope so. I honestly don't think I can say too much more without spoiling this story. I guess there is one more thing, HOT DAMN can Jaden write erotic sexy scenes. Jesus, they were off the charts erotic. Some of them I had issues with, I found myself questioning how those specific scenes made me feel. It was harder to get a grip on how the character's were feeling due to the POV only being Alexandre's. Over all, Therapist was one intense, erotic thriller that you can interpret several ways. Everyone's opinions and feelings on this book will differ, you really need to read it yourself before you make a judgement call on it.

 Therapist was brilliantly fucked up.

★★☆ 4 Amazing Stars! ☆★★

Reviewed By Bel  Burgess

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Excerpt:



As I approach my office, I am hit with a familiar scent. Cigarette smoke. An earthy, fragrant smell that tickles the edge of my memory. I know this brand from somewhere, but I don’t know where.
I follow my nose down the short hallway to my private area and open my door.
Smoke hangs heavy in the air, clouds of it billow away from me as I enter. I cut a path through to find out who fucking dares to pollute my office like this.
“Shut the door, Alexandre,” a smooth female voice announces as I enter my space. I turn and see a figure seated on the couch, a halo of pure white smoke envelops her head and she exhales a languid breath that lingers as she speaks. “We need to talk.”
I don’t know why, but I obey. I shut the door, turn back again and look at her. She seems familiar; I think I’ve seen her before. She’s wearing a cherry red cocktail dress, dangerously high black leather heels and elbow length white silk gloves. Her hair is black and falls in waves around her face; her eyes are just as dark. I stare into them and wonder if they ever end.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” I demand and walk to the window. “Please put out your cigarette, this is a no smoking office,” I continue and slide the glass open.
“I don’t want to, I feel more comfortable with a cigarette in my hand,” she purrs and smiles at me. Her lips are dark red and her teeth are perfect, white and straight. She’s an incredibly beautiful woman. “Think of it as part of my...treatment.”
“Why are you here this early? Who scheduled you? And once again, how did you get in?” I demand again. She laughs and leans back on the couch, her long legs stretch out in front of her, emphasising their perfect shape.
She doesn’t answer, but says, “Doctor, I believe I have an urgent issue we need to address. Please,” she gestures towards my desk, “have a seat.” She draws one last breath from her cigarette, exhales as I sit and butts it out on the bottom of her shoe. Red, Louboutins. In a flash I remember where I’ve seen her. Just last weekend at the restaurant. She was there, was she watching me?
I take my seat. She doesn’t seem like the type I want to argue with, at least not until I get to know her. I decide to go along with her little game and give her the illusion of being in control until I can determine how she needs to be treated. “Well? What is this about?” I ask and set my satchel down on the floor next to my chair.
She takes the cigarette butt and flicks it onto the floor at her feet. She leans back again and looks me up and down, landing on my face, her own a mask of disapproval. “You have been a very, very wicked boy, Alexandre,” she says, her voice still a purr. She has the slightest accent and draws out the last part of my name with a sexy drawl. It’s not Russian, Eastern European perhaps? Middle Eastern? I can’t tell, and with her ambiguous dark features, I couldn’t put a finger on her ethnicity either. She’s beautiful and a complete conundrum.
“Why would you say that, Miss...what did you say your name is?” I ask her, leaning across the desk. I forgot to give the surface a swipe yesterday afternoon and it still carries the slightest pungent scent of the sex that happened on it. A gentle nudge, a reminder of the wicked things I have done.
“I didn’t,” she says and smiles. She almost moves in slow motion as if underwater, elegant and purposeful. “I’ve been watching you, Alexandre, and I’ve seen you get up to all kinds of terrible things.”
“What kinds of things?” I ask her, deciding to continue engaging in her little delusion until I know more about her.
“Things to women, vulnerable women,” she says and raises an eyebrow. “Patients, women you pick up in bars, online...you are very busy and very wicked.”
“How do you know this?” I ask her, feeling rather uncomfortable at this particular line of accusation. I’m very careful with my activities, especially with patients. “Have you been following me?”
“Not following, but watching. They’re very different thing. I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, you know,” she tells me and watches my reaction.
“What is your name?” I demand again, feeling that familiar sharp prick of anger rising behind my eyes.
“My name is unimportant. You may call me Mistress.”
“Mistress?” I repeat and laugh, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to be calling you that. Now please tell me your name so I have something to call you.”
She leans forward on the couch, crosses her ankles and stares me down. After a moment or two of uncomfortable silence, I realize I have to capitulate to get anywhere with her.
I shuffled a few papers on my desk, look back at her and say, “Fine, Mistress it is. Now why are you here...Mistress?”
She licks her lips and leans back again, extends her beautiful legs and folds her hands on her lap. She is perfection and she knows it. That irritates me somehow and yet I can’t help but hang on her every word. The anticipation of her reply is coursing through my veins.
“I already told you,” she says in her low, melodic voice, “I am here because you have been wicked. I am here to punish you.”
I’m not that into BDSM. I like to tie people up and I am the consummate Dominant man if it comes right down to it...but the way she says it, in the mysterious accent, sends a thrill down my spine. I lean farther across the desk, look her in the eyes and say, “How are you planning on punishing me?”


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