I was intrigued by the blurb to this book when I first read it.  But I don’t think it does this book justice.  There is so much to this book.

There was something about Greer, the heroine, that I instantly liked.  Maybe it was the fact that she had lost so much, so young.  Or the fact that her loving grandfather used her a bit to gain the upper hand in his political circles.  Or that as she grew older the only friend she has was her cousin who, frankly, left something to be desired.  I wanted to befriend Greer so I could protect her because it didn’t seem like she had a lot of people looking out for Greer and what she wanted.

Fast forward to the present and an adult Greer is faced with not only her teenage crush, the current President of the United States, but also the only other man she gave a piece of herself to, the current Vice President.  Both of these men own a piece of Greer and it’s a bit heartbreaking to see her torn between the two of them.  But Greer’s not the only one torn.  There’s something more than friendship between Ash and Embry and you have to wonder if the feelings these three have are going to rip them apart.

All three characters are broken down by the baggage they carry.  They’ve been pawns for policial gain and can only trust a very select few.  But it wasn’t until almost the end of the book that, as a reader, you finally understand that these three need to be together in order for them to be truly whole.  It doesn’t matter if one’s a Dom, a sub or overly promiscious.  They need each other, together, or else they’re just hurting themselves.

I can’t wait to see what comes next with this series.  Evil is afoot and it’s going to rock this threesome to it’s core…I can feel it.

American Queen by Sierra Simone

Release Date: October 25th, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le

 Excerpt:

“I kept thinking about what I wanted to give you today for our wedding day, and honestly, Greer, there isn’t really anything I couldn’t give you.  Jewelry or exotic vacations or rare editions of the books you love, anything I could have dreamed of, I could get for you—but they were just things.  I didn’t want to get you a thing for a curio cabinet or a jewelry box.  I wanted to give you something that you could carry with you through our new life together.  Something that would make you a promise.”

The best man’s hand brushes up against my stocking-covered ankle and I gasp.

“What is it, princess?” Ash’s low voice comes over the phone line.

“Embry…I mean, Ash, I—”  I can’t find the words just then, because Embry’s hand slides up my calf and everything stops.  My thoughts, my feelings, my guilt—my world shrinks to Ash’s voice on the phone and the fingers moving past my knee and Embry’s face, so controlled. But lust and anger and determination are fissuring across that control, and I can see his wide pupils and the pulse pounding in his neck and the trembling of his lips.

What is happening? I think distantly to myself.  What am I letting happen…and all while I’m on the phone with my soon-to-be husband?

And then the world slams back into motion, and I make a strangled noise, stumbling backwards, away from Embry.  He starts to stand and come toward me, and I hold out one of my hands, moving backwards until my back is pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the skyline.

Embry looks down at my shaking hand and then back up to me, those fissures in his control now full-on fractures, and he says, “Greer…”

“Don’t test me,” I whisper, not sure if I’m whispering to the groom or the best man.  “Don’t test me like this.”

This isn’t happening.  I missed a connection somewhere, misunderstood something vital, because there is no way, no fucking way, that Ash is offering his best friend to me as some sort of wedding present.  This is my wishful thinking turned toxic, this is my darkest fantasies turning into delusion—

“I want you to let Embry give you my gift,” Ash tells me.  “While I listen.  That’s what you’ll give me in exchange: every single moan, pant and cry will be for me.”

“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying,” I say. 

“Oh, don’t worry, angel.  I’ll get something out of this for me too.” 

I hear the dark roughness in his voice and I realize I’m so very, very wet.

“Close your eyes,” Ash orders.

I do, my panting somehow louder in my head when I can’t see anything.  The glass window against my back is cool and strong, just like Ash’s words in my ear.

“I know you’re wet.  I know it like I know Embry is hard right now, just from the mere thought of touching you.  You want it, don’t you?  You want it so much that you’re shaking with the effort it’s taking to hold yourself back.”

 “But I don’t want to hurt you.”  It’s my final plea, my final argument, my final grasp at some semblance of sanity.  My skirts are almost up at my waist now, and I know the moment Embry catches sight of my delicate, hand-embroidered French panties because he takes in a sharp breath, as if punched in the gut.

“It all hurts,” Ash says.  “It hurts watching you two watching each other.  It hurts watching him with other people.  There’s no part about this that doesn’t hurt, but what’s the alternative?  Living without the pain means living without each other.”

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Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City

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