My Review: The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent

My Review:  The Unrequited by Saffron A. KentThe Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent
Publication Date: July 13, 2017
Genres: Affair, Erotica, Romance, Student Teacher
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Layla Robinson is not crazy. She is suffering from unrequited love. But it’s time to move on. No more stalking, no more obsessive calling.

What she needs is a distraction. The blue-eyed guy she keeps seeing around campus could be a great one—only he is the new poetry professor—the married poetry professor.

Thomas Abrams is a stereotypical artist—rude, arrogant, and broody—but his glares and taunts don’t scare Layla. She might be bad at poetry, but she is good at reading between the lines. Beneath his prickly façade, Thomas is lonely, and Layla wants to know why. Obsessively.

Sometimes you do get what you want. Sometimes you end up in the storage room of a bar with your professor and you kiss him. Sometimes he kisses you back like the world is ending and he will never get to kiss you again. He kisses you until you forget the years of unrequited love; you forget all the rules, and you dare to reach for something that is not yours.

My Review

The Unrequited by Saffron A. Kent is a taboo romance novel with two of my favorite tropes of forbidden love.

“What does it feel like? Are you as lonely as me? As lost and angry? Are you insane like me?”

Layla Robison was in love and that love nearly destroyed her. She’s moved on, or at least away, and is intent on finding herself again. Thomas Abrams is in love, a complicated love. A loved that has no room for a crazy, smart-mouthed, Twizzler-loving Layla.

“I’ll ruin you, set you on fire, and won’t even look back. I’ll take and take until you’re empty and hollow.”

I read the synopsis of this story and knew it was one I would definitely be itching to read. Student-teacher romance is my favorite form of taboo, followed closely behind by those with sordid affairs; this was like a double dipped ice cream cone. The tendrils of the story from the beginning led in multiple directions, still giving us more about Layla and Thomas, but flirting with other aspects from the past that shaped the present. It was a torturous build to a story, like walking on a fragile frozen pond just waiting for the ice to break.

“But depth is misleading from the surface. Sometimes taking a plunge is the only way to find out if the water is too deep or just deep enough.”

I love how Author Saffron A. Kent penned characters that were so close only a breath separated them, but so lost that they seemed to constantly row against the expanse of the ocean between them. The gradual build and layering of the story made for one that was equal parts slow-burn and cause for emotional mania.

“In this moment, we’re more than soul mates. We inhabit each other’s bodies. We are one. One skin. One heart. One need.”

Now, for the pièce de résistance, let’s get right to the sexual tension. Wow! It was taut and high. When the string finally broke, I couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with the parallel panting that my lungs and mouth were doing. Two asteroids did collide…in my head, and that had me all messed up. I rode wave after wave of lust, pleasure, infatuation, and possession. It was intimately deranged, if that’s even possible. The way Layla injected herself into Thomas’ life, leaving no pore unclaimed, was eerily fascinating. She was a drug, a toxic and foreign chemical in his body, and he became hooked. So did I!

“I think I’m dead. I’m in heaven and hell. In another stratosphere. I’m everywhere. He has shattered me with his dark promises, broken me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be pieced back together.”

There was a secondary aspect to this story that was as heartbreaking as it was surreal. I could literally see and feel this character’s life light blinking, sputtering, and then going out. It was so sad and difficult to understand without having the full picture. These moments sucked the oxygen from the room and made me grasp at my Kindle, flipping page after page, looking for hope for all involved.

“The Harlot fell in love with the Fire-breather. It was beautiful and right. It was wrong and ugly, just like the earth beneath my feet. It was tragic and ecstatic. It was everything I’d hoped love could be.”

I was literally mouth agape throughout most of this novel. The Unrequited was feral and alive, infectious, tumultuous, and risqué. One of the most riveting and pulsating forbidden romance novels.

“You bring them back…my words.”

5 Stars


I’m hit by a storm of desire to kiss him better. It’s a tornado, an avalanche in my body, and in one breathless moment, I decide to go for it. It’s okay. I can take the blame for it later.

I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, it’s a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understand—but one isn’t enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.

It’s not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I won’t take it. I’ll be good; I’ll only give.

Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologize—not for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.

“Are you trying to kiss me, Layla?” he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.

He couldn’t tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know I’m glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.”

He inches closer to me, still not touching—as impossible as that is—but infinitely closer. “You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”

Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.

“H-How?” I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.

For a second, he’s silent, just watching. I’m afraid he’ll back out from whatever this is, whatever insanity we’re about to commit—but then I sense the shift in the liquor-laced air as he opens his mouth and growls, “Like this.”

More from Saffron A. Kent

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