Recommended By Angie
Recommended By Angie
I'm combining KICK and USE (Songs of Perdition, Part 1) into one recommendation because to separate them would be incomplete. These novels are two halves of an open-ended whole. Though USE ends — no spoiler — without a resolution, it's not a cliffhanger like how KICK ends. They should be read together and are a complete, though not completed, story. If this is confusing, that's because these are not traditional novels and this is a non-traditional story.
CD Reiss is an artist of both the written word and with her graphic skills. She designs all of her books' covers and promotional graphics with an appreciation for fan interpretation. Simply, they are beautiful, both her prose and visual design alike. I could also use descriptors like haunting, sexy, intense, erotic, lovely, gritty, and purposeful, but that would be limiting.
KICK and USE together are Certified Favorites, added to my pinnacle of reading recommendations. Songs of Perdition, Part 1 is brilliant and fucked up, both in good and bad ways. It's erotic, dark, romantic(?), disturbing, highly sexual, sexy, and most of all, required outside-of-the-box reading. 5 SWELLED STARS!
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From The Publisher
You do not need to read Songs of Submission or Songs of Corruption to enjoy Songs of Perdition.
This same exact story appeared in the banned BEND anthology.
Fiona Drazen, sex addict, submissive slave, celebutante, trapped in a mental ward until Dr. Elliot Chapman can help her remember why she's there. But once she does, she might not want to go home to the Master she tried to kill.
***This is the first of a serial. It's about 120-130 pages and ends in a cliffhanger, because that's how I roll. There's also a ton of drug use, and educated men who like dirty sex, because that's also how I roll***
In the end, did I stab him to be free of him? And free to what? Fuck? Snort? Party? Or free to be normal?
“It was a very interesting situation, up there on Maundy,” Elliot said.
“Nothing like it in the world. It’s a safe place for people like me.”
“People like you? Can you be more specific?” He ran his finger on the edge of his blotter, and a chill went up my inner thighs.
“People like me means, I don’t know. Fuckers. We fuck because it’s what we do. Bus drivers drive. Accountants account. Policemen police. I’m a fucker. I fuck.”