Author: Madeline Sheehan
Series: Undeniable #1
Release Date: October 7, 2012
Read: December 28, 2013 to January 2, 2014
Book Blurb (from Goodreads):
Warning: This is not a “typical love story”. This is an all-consuming, soul-crushing, tear-your-heart-into-pieces story. It’s intense, gritty and raw, dark and disturbing, and it doesn’t happen overnight. This is an epic love story that knows no boundaries and has no time limits. It grows and develops—with hurt, sacrifice, and heartache—over the span of a lifetime.
Eva Fox is the princess of the Silver Demons Motorcycle Club. Growing up with bikers in the club lifestyle is all that she knows. When she’s a young girl, Eva meets the reason for her existence. Deuce West is the sexy, biker bad-ass of the Hell’s Horsemen Motorcycle Club. Like Eva, he was born and raised in the club—but that’s where the similarities end. Their first meeting is innocent, but as Eva matures into a woman, their chance reunions evolve into a fit of lust and love. Fate continues to bring them together time and time again, but their twisted journey is filled with pain, betrayal, and bloodshed that could tear them apart. Eva sees in Deuce what he cannot see in himself—a man worthy of love—and Eva spends her lifetime proving to him that her undeniable love is the one thing he can’t live without.
This is Eva and Deuce’s story.
It wasn’t easy.
Nothing worth doing ever is.
And love is worth everything.
Warning: This book is fucked up.
So very unbelievably fucked up.
It’s so fucked up, I don’t even know how to write this review.
I’m going to give it my all though. *Takes a deep breath*
First thing first, we have the two characters Eva Fox and Deuce West who are respectably in two different motorcycle clubs, Eva in Silver Demons and Deuce in the Hell’s Horseman. They first meet when they are both visiting their fathers in jail—Eva is five and Deuce is twenty-three. Eva immediately thinks Deuce is some kind of God and Deuce thinks that Eva is some cute little kid who has him the moment she slips her small little hand into his without preamble.
Skip about seven years when Eva is twelve (this is the first of many time gaps). Eva, developing at a young age, still hasn’t quite grown into her knees and elbows. She sees Deuce when the two gangs (who have come to a business agreement after being rivals for many years, I gathered) sees her and they talk. She thinks he’s still a blonde, ass kicking, fucking God who doesn’t give a fuck (and God do all of the characters in this book love to fuck, say fuck, and they don’t give a fuck if anyone else gives a fuck for their lack of fucking vocabulary for the word fuck).
Skip about four more years. Eva is sixteen and she’s definitely grown into those elbows and knees of hers, and when Deuce sees her at yet another party that both gangs are attending, his eyes and his dick takes notice and he’s a goner; Eva still thinks that Deuce is a God, but a God that she might be able to have her way with know that she’s older—and it doesn’t matter to either one of them that Deuce is married and has kids. Nope. That doesn’t stop Deuce from pushing Eva up against a wall, Eva from wrapping her legs around his waist, and them going at it. Not at all.
Eva’s father, however, does put a stop from Deuce doing anything with Eva again for about two more years by shooting him in both legs. He, apparently, has cameras everywhere (it was at Demon’s headquarters where the party was occurring). When they meet at a club in New York after Eva has snuck out with her best friend, Kami, they proceed to have sex in an alleyway for Eva’s first time.
Another time gap. Bullshit occurs. Another time gap. More bullshit occurs. Fucking occurs in between both time gaps and once again, no one gives a fuck. Oh, wait, I forgot another time gap and one more bullshit (though bullshit happens all the time).
Now, if you’ve gotten this far along, you might be thinking, okay, now what happens? And all I can say, yet again, is bullshit. This book is filled to the very brim of fucking over the top drama it puts afternoon soap operas to shame. Now you might be thinking, okay, well what’s the point to all of the drama? To which I would have to say, not a Goddamn thing. There is no point to this book. At all. Besides the fact that Deuce and Eva’s love is supposed to be this dirty, raw, soul consuming love, that’s it. Yet, with me saying that, I don’t really think that their love was even the point. At least, it didn’t feel that way to me because of the way too many time gaps, Deuce being a fucking idiot, Eva being a fucking idiot, and everyone cheating on everyone, men calling every woman they come across a bitch, and just plain crazy as fuck shit happening.
Oh, wait, I forgot. A lot of people get killed too.
Nothing else though. It feels as though the book was wrote just because the author felt like writing a book with nothing in mind besides writing some fucked up shit.
And did she ever succeed.
To the point where this is what I was doing 90% of the time:
And yet, I must say that every last word, every last character (who I pray to God doesn’t exist because the world is already fucked up without adding them into the mix), every last name calling, every last temper tantrum, and every last sex scene . . . was addicting.
In short, I have found a new guilty pleasure.
And the fact that I liked this fucked up story scares the shit out of me and I think I should start seeking professional help. And fast.
While it may sound like that this book has basically nothing going for it besides its fuckery, it did have its moments. Deuce, while ninety percent of the time was an asshole, did make me awwww a few times and at one point made me just plain melt. And while Eva was so stupid sometimes, at least she was stupid on her own two feet—she didn’t need any man to help her with that, but also she was kind of kick ass in a way, stubborn as hell, and in the long run, I ended up liking her.
I liked all the characters . . . except the ones that you are clearly not supposed to like.
I’m looking up psychiatrists in my area as you’re reading this.
And this, I forgot to mention, is a series. As of right now it appears to be a five book series. And you know what? I plan on reading every last one of them.
Oh, God, it’s too late for the psychiatrist . . .
“Hey,” I said softly and cupped his cheek.
“What about your dream?”
His face went dimples. “I’m lookin’ at it, darlin’.”