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American Gods

This decadent and provocative romance is a treat meant to be savored, but you’ll devour it and be salivating for more!

⭐⭐⭐⭐

0.5. FILTHY GODS by R. Scarlett

SYNOPSIS

Prelude in the American Gods series.

Young. Wealthy. Elite. Attractive. The gentlemen’s secret society at Yale was filled with them. And Nathaniel Radcliffe, the bane of my existence, was one of them. As the right hand of the American Gods, he was conceited and arrogant. A dangerously handsome man in a tailored custom suit and shiny black oxford loafers.

The classroom was our battlefield. We made a sport out of arguing and debating, ready to do anything in order to win over the other. Deadly opponents, deadlier minds. I’d sworn I'd never give him the upper hand, until...

The secret I’ve been hiding for the last three years? He just discovered it… and now he has all the power.

BOOK REVIEW

Filthy Gods settled firmly in my heart. It was an amazing introduction to the American Gods series (something I’m just sure will be spectacular) about a group of highly privileged members of a secret society at Yale (introduction to the entitled, rich, and simply gorgeous main characters of the upcoming full-length novels, true hellraisers with angst written all over their smug pretty faces).

Nathaniel Radcliff was one of the elite. In the very beginning, he seemed to be arrogant and manipulative (but that’s probably because the book was from Juliette’s POV who might have been a tiny bit bias), which was not the case at all. I absolutely loved Nathaniel who was so so good, super sweet and protective and supportive and loyal to a fault and entirely obsessed with the heroine. I can actually go on and on, he was that terrific.

“I don’t need your help.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed. “You could get whatever you want without anyone’s help. You’re capable and strong, and intelligent. And you deserve all of the success I know you’ll have. More than I ever will, more than any bastards whose parents paid their way into Yale.”

Juliette was feisty and tried really hard to appear strong in front of the entitled assholes who didn’t have to struggle the way she’d always had. At the same time, she was annoyingly stubborn at times and had severe trust issues, so used to dear to her people leaving her behind at some point. I still hated how Juliette’s heart-breaking loneliness and understandable insecurities led to her constantly running from her feelings toward Nathaniel, as well as her outrageous hesitation to fully expose herself to the ideal book boyfriend.

I had fixated on Nathaniel Radcliffe as my enemy. He became a force that pushed me further, made a powerful energy thrive inside of me to meet him for every challenge.

It was entertaining to see how Juliette and Nathaniel, two very competitive, ambitious, and hard-working souls, struggled to resist or rather exhaust the undeniable chemistry between each other in order to stick to their carefully mapped out futures (not going to spoil but am going to say that I found the family conflict of the story a little cliche to my liking).

It was my first encounter with a romance book by R. Scarlett. This enemies-to-lovers novella was an effortlessly fast read. It was dirty (OMG Nathaniel’s filthy mouth) and sexy, super addictive. I would definitely recommend grabbing the book to get ready for the upcoming novels about the rest of the elite.

NOTE: I am actually very confused about the continuation of the series since Rich Boys Don’t Have Hearts was supposed to come out in 2019… Please, let me know if you have any information regarding the issue.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

R.Scarlett lives in a small quaint town in Southern Ontario, Canada, and has an unhealthy obsession with mythology and romance. From studying English literature and minoring in History, she loves losing herself in a good book and snuggling up to her Brittany Spaniel. When she’s not writing or plotting a delicious novel, she can be found hanging out with friends and family, going on long car rides, exploring small towns, or watching reruns of Sex and the City.

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