Jaye Frances can spin a tale and she continues Jewlel’s dark story in Reunion.
This series will not be for everyone and it is rare for me to step into the genre, but Jaye Frances hooked me with her writing and not all of her books are erotica, so check them out below. You may be pleasantly surprised and find one that is for you.
Such a beautiful cover for Reunion by Jaye Frances, but I can guarantee you that the story inside is VERY far from simple. Violence, torture, rape and abuse beyond my imagination keep me riveted as I eagerly anticipate Jewel getting her revenge.
“Even in hell, there are rules…”
Reunion is Book II in the World Without Love series and it does need to be read in order.
We pick up where we left off and I was eager to read more of Jewel’s tragic story. Reunion did not start the way I thought it would and I love it when an author can surprise me.
I still concentrated more on the story than the sex, but it seems at this point, she is so lost that she’ll fuck anything that walks. I love figuring out why characters do what they do, so I am trying to figure out Jewel’s motivation. Is it her horrendous experiences making her reach out for human contact that is not about force or torture? Is it about control?
How evil must a person be to take someone to the edge of death for their own pleasure, smiling and enjoying the experience?
I can’t help but blush at the sex…but I do read it all. To me, it is pivotal to the story.
I must give this 5 Stars for scaring the crap out of me! It shows just how easy it is to get into something over our heads because it is hard to believe how EVIL, sadistic and savage people can be. BUT, I believe. Sooooo…be careful of who you trust.
I didn’t see the twist at the end coming and…OH NO…I am left with a huge cliffhanger. No worries, Book III, Redemption is out, so I will not have to wait for the conclusion of Jewel’s story.
To sum it up, I am surprised at how much I LOVE this twisted story. I can hardly wait to find out how she gets her revenge!
I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Reunion by Jaye Frances.
In Reunion, Jewel’s story continues as she finds herself stranded in a far-flung corner of the world. Struggling to elude her captors and a network of bounty hunters, she meets her would-be savior, a man who promises to provide protection and comfort. Believing her nightmare has finally come to an end, Jewel begins making plans to return home, where she can start her life over again. But greed raises its ugly head, and the terrifying future she thought she’d evaded becomes a reality. Deceived by the only one she believed she could trust, Jewel is left defenseless against the sadistic abusers who take pleasure in teaching her their own form of discipline. With the dream of rescue and returning home to San Diego even further from her reach, she begins planning her revenge on the men who have stolen her life—and her future.
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Excerpt from Reunion:
A Note From the Author . . .
Reunion is the second book in the “World Without Love” series. The series is a continuing story and meant to be read in sequence, beginning with Book One, Betrayed. Both Betrayed and Book Three, Redemption, are available in Kindle eBook and paperback from Amazon.
The “World Without Love” series contains mature content and is intended for an 18+ audience
It came to me slowly . . . I was no longer in the water.
Although I was fairly certain the mattress underneath me was real, I needed to touch something solid, to confirm this wasn’t another hallucination.
I stopped myself just in time.
Until I was sure of the situation, I would remain dead-still, my eyes closed, listening for the subtle draw of someone’s breath, the crack of a stiff joint, or the rustle of fabric from a shifting leg. My captivity on the Kelsey had taught me the value of concealing both my intentions and actions.
My brain was muddled from the beating I’d taken during the storm, but this much was a safe assumption: Someone had fished me out of the ocean. They had brought me aboard their boat and laid me in this bed. I had no idea how long I’d been here, if the time was measured in hours or days. My appetite should have given me a clue, but I wasn’t hungry. Just tired and sore.
Forcing myself to lie there, feigning sleep, I listened . . .
The throb of diesel engines mixed with the sound of waves sloshing against the hull. Overhead, the constant footfalls from the deck indicated two, maybe three crewmen. In my mind’s eye, I could see them stomping about in their high-topped, neoprene boots, the distinctive heavy thud of thick rubber on grooved teak suggesting this was a working boat, possibly a fishing trawler.
The last time I’d regained consciousness on a strange ship, I awoke in searing pain, shackled to a makeshift rack and half-covered in freezing water. This time, my discomfort was far less severe—the cramp of aching muscles and the sting from a minor laceration on my shoulder.
I counted to sixty. Then again, to be safe. I wouldn’t make the mistake of opening my eyes too soon.
I moved a finger, swiping it across the scratchy cotton sheet. If someone was watching me, they didn’t see it. Maybe I really was alone in the cabin.
I shifted my right arm. I wasn’t bound. Whoever found me didn’t consider me a threat. But I wasn’t ready to make the same assumption about my rescuers. After what I’d been through, no one—at least in this part of the world—would ever again receive the benefit of the doubt. For all I knew there could be someone a few feet away, waiting for me to regain consciousness—someone really good at keeping their presence a secret.
There was no point in continuing to pretend I was asleep. Whether it was now or later, I would soon come face-to-face with the men on this boat. A few minutes, one way or the other, wouldn’t make any difference.
I opened my eyes enough to form a blurry image. Directly overhead, the upper berth of a bunk-bed covered me like the lid of a coffin. A twinge of claustrophobia tightened around my throat. I turned on my side to escape the smothering delusion and propped myself up on one elbow, surveying the space.
I was alone.
Although covered with a blanket, my clothing was gone. I was naked. But that didn’t necessarily indicate sinister intent. My shorts and top had been soaked with sea water, and removing them would have been the first step in raising my core temperature.
Needing a better view of my surroundings, I rolled on to my stomach. The movement forced me to stifle a moan—a reflex from the pain of shifting my weight from one part of my bruised body to another.
The cabin was tiny, not much larger than a handicapped bathroom stall. It made my assumption about the type of vessel even more likely. Small quarters were typical of the fifty to seventy foot class of trawler, where berth space was sacrificed for a larger cargo hold to maximize the volume of fish that could be stored during a single run.
I sat up, searching for clues. The more I could find out about my rescuers, the greater my initial advantage.
The small St. Christopher’s medal hanging from a wall-peg brought a vague sense of relief. It was a real stretch of logic, but I doubted someone who was part of the slaver’s network would be a regular church-goer.
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