I’m making grabby hands all around Charlotte Stein’s latest, Addicted. There are so many fabulous lines that I wish I could share, but to do so would violate copyright law–SO MANY AMAZING LINES! (“Grabby hands” is in one of her lines. That one isn’t mine. I am not that creative. Charlotte packs so many good lines into Addicted, I’m slipping them into conversation just so I can get that little thrill of reliving her literary awesome-sauce (“awesome-sauce” is also Charlotte’s.)
Why did I love Addicted? It’s deep. It’s sexy. It’s tender. It’s real. I believe everything on the page. By the time I reach the end, I know the characters to their marrow, and I love them like dear friends, except if any of my friends were bonking (a Charlotte word, which is apparently a British word and makes me giggle) with the frequency and spectacularity of Kit and Dillon, the friendship wouldn’t last, because they’d get tired of me begging for all the dirty details.
Here’s the concept: A mild mannered librarian aspiring to write erotic romance visits a sex therapy group to learn more about this mystical thing called sex that has never lived up to its hype as far as her reality goes. She meets Dillon, a sex-addicted, laid back jock who treats everything like a joke. But there’s one thing Dillon treats very, very seriously. Kit’s sexual enlightenment.
The whole thing is told in first person from Kit’s perspective. And it’s brilliant. Kit spends so much time in her head that she has entire mental debates with herself between two things that Dillon says right next to each other. And they’re such endearing, honest, self-depreciating, hopeful, crippling, realistic debates. Kit needs Dillon to help her get out of her head, but what he doesn’t realize is that he needs her for the very same reason. It’s a beautiful full circle of a plot with surprises and moments of astounding sweetness that left me thoroughly satisfied.
No one gets me as excited about confusion in a character’s head than Charlotte Stein, which doesn’t sound like a genuine compliment, but it so is. Truly, you just have to read Addicted to see what I mean. Here, read these favorite lines of mine, and hopefully, you’ll see what I mean and go get your copy of Addicted:
Apparently, my erotic masterpiece is amusing to her. More than amusing, in fact. After a second she holds a hand up, like she’s begging me to stop the mirth.
It takes her a while to realise.
‘Oh,’ she says, as she wipes away the tears. ‘Oh, you were serious? This is a serious start to a serious novel?’–Kindle Locations 120-123.
This is the sort of place where I’m going to be exposed as a horrible fraud, who preys on the issues of others. It will come to my turn and I’ll have to say the only thing I can: One time Martin McAllister accidentally slipped his cock in my bum a bit, when aiming for my vagina. And then he expected me to be mortified, only I wasn’t!
God help me, I wasn’t.
And then maybe I’ll cry a little, or wring my hands, just to make the whole thing more convincing.–Kindle Locations 185-189.
I see Dillon Holt, strolling towards me, in a way that makes me want to glance over my shoulder. You know, just in case there’s a sexier, wilder sort of chick behind me, and she’s actually the one he’s aiming for.–Kindle Locations 379-380.
You, Dillon Holt, are all the things I’ve always wanted as inspiration, and never quite found in anything but fantasy land.
Thank God I don’t go with it. My head sounds like a drooling moron.–Kindle Locations 484-485.