Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Exposed (Madame X #2) by Jasinda Wilder: ARC Review & Excerpt


New York Times bestselling author Jasinda Wilder presents the second novel starring the mysterious Madame X.

My name is Madame X.
My life is not my own.
But it could be...

Everything Madame X has ever known is contained within the four walls of the penthouse owned by her lover—the man who controls her every move and desire.

While Caleb owns her body, someone else has touched her soul. X’s awakening at the hands of Logan’s raw, honest masculinity has led her down a new path, one that is as exciting as it is terrifying.

But Caleb’s need to own X completely knows no bounds, and he isn’t about to let her go. Not without a fight that could destroy them all...

Click to Buy the Madame X Series on Amazon:


Review by Michelle:

At last! The continuation of Madame X's story has arrived and things in Exposed don't get much clearer as it seems the more we learn about Caleb, Logan, and X, the thicker the mystery becomes and the more questions arise.

Though things were looking promising at the end of the first book, it seems at first, as if not a whole lot has changed. Until X decides to start digging deeper, that is, at which point things can't possibly return to the way they once were. The more questions asked, the more X is able to slowly start to make the transformation from dependent to independent, from hopeless to hopeful, from caged to free. Exposed is an enthralling journey of burgeoning strength, growing confidence, empowerment, and self discovery.

Just as Madame X becomes aware of Caleb's power to cast a spell on her rendering her helpless, Jasinda Wilder conjures magic all her own as she weaves an intoxicating tale of intrigue and enchantment from the moment the book is opened to that very last word leaving you powerless to walk away or put this one down.

As always Jasinda Wilder is able to wring every conceivable emotion from you during the course of this story. The evolution of X in this book is beautiful and rousing. There is kindness and tenderness, cuteness and overwhelming, joyous love that will make you laugh and make you beam with happiness and pride as well as a passion so intense it is sure to make you sweat. While the hold that Caleb has on X along with his actions and, shall we call them, activities is both a bit exciting and incredibly frustrating. As is X's indecisiveness which can be both understandable and exasperating.

Is there really such a thing as too much sex in a book? If so, I think Exposed may just be a good example of that. It may just be me, but I could have definitely used a little less time in the bedroom and a little more time searching for much needed answers. While there were plenty of warranted steamy moments, especially considering that X is in the process of finding her identity, her personality, and her sexuality, there were a few drawn out and/or repetitive scenes that I felt would have been just as sufficient or even more effective had they been cut down or left out. I love a good sex scene just as much as the next girl, but when you find yourself skimming through the hottest parts of the book or thing, "AGAIN?" it starts to lose its effectiveness and its significance. Just as uniquely thrilling and captivating as the last, with secrets surrounding all three main characters, Exposed will have you furiously flipping pages at the expense of sleep and any other responsibility in order to find out more as quickly as you possibly can. Hold on to your seats, if Exiled is anything like the first two books in the series, it is going to be one wild ride!

*complimentary copy provided by publisher in exchange for an honest review

Rating: 4 Stars

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. When she’s not writing, she’s probably shopping, baking, or reading.

​Some of her favorite authors include Nora Roberts, JR Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Liliana Hart and Bella Andre.

She loves to travel and some of her favorite vacations spots are Las Vegas, New York City and Toledo, Ohio.

You can often find Jasinda drinking sweet red wine with frozen berries and eating a cupcake.

Jasinda is represented by Kristin Nelson of the Nelson Literary Agency.

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I wake sobbing.

Nightmares of sirens and flashing lights and a pair of cold cruel dark eyes staring haughty and inscrutable down at me as I am used like a receptacle. Nightmares of a perfect body pinning me to an elevator door. Sorcery, stealing my will, manipulating my desires, cool silk of a tie wiping my face. Rain cold and wet and windblown, shifting shadows and blood and pain.

My dream is pervaded by a voice: “Isabel, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”

Who is Isabel?

The voice is in my ear, soft and tender and warm. “I’m here, Isabel.”

Oh, it’s me. I’m Isabel.

I am Isabel; I have to remind myself that it is true.

I am lifted, cradled. I hear a heartbeat under my ear, feel soft cotton under my cheek. I am lying on top of him, as if he is my bed. His hands smooth in caressing circles on my back.

I cannot stop sobbing.

My eyes burn with hot tears, and I try to stop them, but I can’t. “L-Logan—”

“Ssshhh. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I can’t—can’t stop—”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. Cry if you need to. I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”

I can only cling to him and cry. My whole body shakes with shuddering, wracking sobs, as if a lifetime of pent-up tears are being ripped out of me wholesale.

I don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes? Hours? A measureless time of weeping. I think I have cried more in the last twelve hours than in all my life.

Eventually, I am able to breathe normally and the sobs and shudders fade.

I remain still, barely breathing now.

On top of Logan.

Aware of him, suddenly.

Completely attuned to every inch of him, stretched out beneath me. His arms around me, his chin tucked against the top of my head. His denim-sheathed thighs beneath mine, thick and hard. His breath on my hair. His hips nudging mine. My hands on his pectoral muscles, my breasts crushed against his sternum.

There is a shift then. A charge to the air. Electricity crackling.

And now, between one breath and the next, it is sexual, the way I’m lying on him.

I can’t breathe again, but for a different reason.

I can’t breathe for wanting him.

Needing him.

“Isabel . . .” he breathes.


“I need you to get up,” he says, and it isn’t what I expected. “There are still some people working out there, and in a few more seconds I’m going to forget that.”

“What would happen if you did, Logan?” I ask. I don’t recognize the daring, the boldness, the raw hunger in my voice.

His fingers twine gently into my hair and pulls, tipping my face up to his.

It’s me, this time,

kissing him,

and kissing him,

and kissing him.

My fingers wrap around the back of his head, clinging to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, pulling myself higher on his body, needing needing needing to be closer to him, to press my lips more completely against his, to taste him, to feel him. I breathe him. His hand, resting on my back, slides lower. I arch against him, press my body against his. There is no part of me that isn’t touching him. I pause to breathe, gasping against his lips. I want more of me to touch more of him. I want all of him, all of me, all of us.

I crave completion, of a kind only Logan can provide.

He feathers his mouth against mine, a teasing brush of lips against lips, heat of breath on tasting tongue.

“That will happen,” he whispers.

“Oh,” I murmur.

“Yeah, oh.” His fingers are tangled in my hair, applying gentle delicious pressure to my scalp, keeping my face tilted to his. “And now I can’t stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I have to,” he says. “Or there won’t be any stopping at all.”

“Logan . . .”

“I want you. I need you. But Isabel, you deserve better—we deserve better—than on a couch in my conference room, with a dozen people on the other side of the wall.”

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