You will be confused and look for logic between the covers, but don’t, because you won’t find it. I do not want to ruin your experience, so I will just tell you that dark can be done badly, or dark can be done so well that it will leave your rotten little heart happy. There are trigger warnings, many triggers, but for me, I wished I didn’t read them, because I was anticipating what would come next. WTF do I say about that ending, except holy crap, you are good Amo Jones, you are good. However, the further you read the more it grabbed you and very quickly engulfed you in toxicity and demented pleasure all while carrying you along until you hit that ending. There were some timeline issues/jumps that made me feel slightly disconnected from the story, which made Amo’s writing style slightly different. This book will rip you apart, leave you for dead, erroneously throw you back together only to rip you apart yet again…slowly and painfully! They are toxic, darker than dark, and maybe slightly psychologically skewed. Nik/Antichrist and Meraki are DEFINITELY not your traditional Heroes and heroines, even for a dark romance. You know exactly what to write and how to write it. Amo Jones, why? Why do I consciously choose to read your books again and again when I know you are going to break me over and over yet again? The answer is simple, you are a genius to the highest level. He steals hearts from all around the world, but one night, he stole something that wasn’t his to steal. Love was my anchor, destruction was the water that was drowning me, and the rope that was so tightly clamped around my ankles, was woven with the lyrics of Aeron Romanov-Reed, also known as, 'Manik. You can’t pull them up from the ocean when they’ve latched themselves to an anchor. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. One fateful night set off a chain of events, events that no one was coming back from. My strain wasn’t rap, and it sure wasn’t laced with some A-class shit like murky blue eyes casted down from the Lord and the Devil’s handcrafted smile. The sound of cigar smoke, bourbon and an old dusty fedora hat. The smooth instrumental strums that take over me. It’s the drug we all damper in, only different strains.
Depending on what you choose to listen to, would depend on what it touches. I love music, and how it stirs even the deepest and untouched parts of your soul. I live a low-key life, fresh out of college and drifting from town to town until I find my home. ’m Beatrice Kennedy, but everyone calls me Beat.
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