Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling.
What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry professor—the married poetry professor.
Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry, but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade, Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.
Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.
NOTE: Please be aware that this book deals with sensitive topics like cheating and death. 18+ Only.
I generously received this ARC from Give Me Books in exchange for an honest review…
OMFG! There are so many things that I want to say about this beautiful story, but of course it seems that my stupid brain just doesn’t want to cooperate with me right now…so please bare with me while I try to express all the thoughts and emotions I had about this book!
Ever since reading Misbehaved by Charleigh Rose a few months ago I’ve been on the search for another captivating Student/Teacher romance that was going to make my FEEL the way I felt while reading that one. Let me just say that The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent certainly did that and so much more. All I can think about is that fact that this story completely blew my mind…in the best way possible. I FREAKING loved and adored every single moment of this phenomenal read! This is without a doubt one of those stories that you want to put down until you’ve devoured the entire thing. Unfortunately that didn’t happen with me since my roommate decided I needed to get out of the house for a few hours, but lets just say that the second I got home I was back on my kindle finishing this one.
Saffron A. Kent has managed to create something so outside the box in a trope that is so popular. I can honestly say that this book is 100% original and has so many different layers surrounding it. Everything about this story was so unique that you never knew what to expect, which was hands down probably one of the best parts of the reading experience.
Layla and Thomas’ story was PERFECT. In my heart I know that doesn’t really sum up what I want to say, but at the same time I think it’s enough because this is one of those stories that need to be experienced first hand. Trust me readers need to go in blind. DON’T read SPOILERS! This story will take you on the ride of your life!
I’m hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the blame for it later.
I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.
Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
“Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.
He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”
He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”
Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
“H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”
About Saffron A. Kent
Writer of bad romances. Coffee Addict. White Russian Drinker. Imaginary Ballet Dancer and poetess. Aspiring Lana Del Ray of the book world.
I’m a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you’ll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.