My Bare Lady (Scorned Women's Society #1) by Piper Sheldon
Format: ebook
Source: provided for review
Disclaimer: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
Date read: October 24, 2019
Scorned Women's Society
1. My Bare Lady - Paperback | Kindle
2. The Treble With Men
3. The One That I Want
3.5. Hopelessly Devoted
4. It Takes a Woman
Piper Sheldon
| Website | Twitter | Amazon |
Synopsis (Goodreads):
Suzie Samuels is the only thing standing between Clifford and his life’s work. All he has to do is change everything about her. Perception creates reality and Clifford Rutledge needs the irascible stripper to prove it.Thoughts on My Bare Lady: Oh, man. I really like seeing other sides to characters we've previously only met peripherally (or not even met, in Suzie's case, but have heard of in passing). On the surface, Suzie's the hot-tempered stripper who entertains bikers and isn't known for holding back. In reality, she's a whole lot more.
Suzie Samuels is set to prove once and for all she’s more than Short Fuse Suze, stripper for the Black Demons and renowned motorcycle arsonist. If all it takes is hard work, then Suzie knows how to work it hard.
But Suzie’s scandalous spirit tests Clifford's resolve. And Clifford’s buttoned-up bullying is driving Suzie bonkers.
Can Clifford move past their differences long enough to pull off the impossible task of changing the bare lady into a fair lady?
More importantly, as perceptions shift and priorities change, will he want to?
I can't say that Clifford comes to realize that slowly, because he always sees more in Suzie than she sees in herself. So, yeah. He realizes she's more than a stripper with a feisty attitude, it just takes him a while to understand how much all those layers mean to him.
Meanwhile, the bikers are doing their usual dangerous things, the residents of Green Valley are doing their usual small town things, and women who were once scorned are now banding together to...well, do a few unexpected things.
Man, I like Green Valley!
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Excerpt
I was transfixed. It wasn’t just the way she mastered the room. It wasn’t just how her choreography perfectly correlated with the entrancing music. It wasn’t just her sex appeal. It was that unwavering gaze and focus on her task. To the rest of the room, staring blatantly at her admirable—ahem—assets, she was an object, but I recognized the barely controlled passion roiling under her skin. What would it be like to be that strong? Not just physically, but strong in a way that allowed her to bare her soul to a group of greedy strangers. My passions were locked away safely inside me and yet she put it all out there. Such bravery and passion.
In certain moments, I swear she looked right at me—quick stolen glances that shot a bolt of adrenaline down my spine. Perhaps this was a skill she learned to earn more tips, as the money was out in droves now, peppered over the stage and her sweating skin. But I swore she saw me. Saw through me. To the things I didn’t want seen. I stepped back further into the darkness knowing my concerns were irrational but unable to tear my eyes off hers. I was stronger than this. I was thoughtful, pragmatic, and not a victim of animalistic natures and poetic fantasies.
Though she occasionally snapped the thin strips of material that made up her outfit in a playful tease she never took any clothes off. She didn’t need to. She’d managed to capture the attention of every person in that room with her movements alone.
My body reacted despite my rationale; heart pounding, skin aflame. I needed to leave. I wouldn’t be like the rest of these people.
The song crescendoed and in a show of strength, she launched herself back to the top of the pole once again. A small gasp escaped from me but the music drowned out all noise. She performed a trick that made her appear to fall down the entire length of the pole, tumbling over and sideways, limb over limb, only to catch herself at the bottom using only her thighs. She hung upside down, panting, dark hair sprawled out around her and her gaze set on me. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald, unlike any color I’d ever seen. They were luminescent in the stage lighting. Even across the hazy bar, they were transcendent. Glowing. Fixated on me.
Nobody else.
I swallowed but it wasn’t easy. The song ended and the lights went out. The crowd went wild. Several moments passed before I gained control of my faculties again. With that control came the shame of watching her. The understanding that just seeing her perform was enough to make me forget who I was. That couldn’t happen.
I got out of there as fast as I could. The entire drive back to Knoxville my chest heaved at an alarming rate; my body remained a mass of tension. Her hypnotic gaze flashed repeatedly in my vision no matter how often I tried to shake it loose.
Thankfully, I’d never see her again.
About Piper Sheldon
Piper Sheldon writes Contemporary Romance and Magical Realism books that hope to be New York Times bestsellers when they grow up. For now, she works as a technical writer during the day and writes about love the rest of the time. Of course she also makes room for her husband, toddler, and two needy dogs at home in the Desert Southwest.
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