Does It Hurt?: Alternate Cover by H. D. Carlton
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Does It Hurt?: Alternate Cover

by

H. D. Carlton

(Author)

4.3

-

56,713 ratings


AN AMAZON TOP 5 BESTSELLER!

Who am I?

I've forgotten the answer to that question long ago. Ever since I ran from that house, so desperate to escape, I left with only the clothes on my back and socks on my feet. After that day, I've only ever walked in stolen shoes.

Could I be a girl who is searching for the meaning of life in faceless men? They were all so forgettable. Until he came along. He took me under a waterfall and made me forget my name, and in return, I took his instead.

Enzo Vitale.

An enigmatic man that will only ever love the deep sea. Or rather the predators that inhabit it. Turns out, he's not so different than the monsters he feeds. He lured me onto his boat like a fish in the ocean, seeking vengeance for my crime. Had I realized his intentions, and that a massive storm would leave us shipwrecked, I would've run.

Now, I'm a girl who's seeking refuge in a decrepit lighthouse with a man who loathes me almost as much as he craves me. He wants to hurt me, but the old caretaker of the abandoned island may have intentions far more sinister.

It's no longer a question of who I am, but rather, will I survive?

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ISBN-10

1957635029

ISBN-13

978-1957635026

Print length

430 pages

Language

English

Publisher

H. D. Carlton

Publication date

July 17, 2022

Dimensions

5.5 x 1.08 x 8.5 inches

Item weight

1.23 pounds


Popular Highlights in this book

  • No more running, baby. I want him to come looking for you just so I can have the privilege of ending his life for touching what’s mine.

    Highlighted by 16,420 Kindle readers

  • You’re going to ruin me, too. But unfortunately for you, that’s where I feel most at home.

    Highlighted by 15,283 Kindle readers

  • She may be a siren, but she’s mine to hurt just as much as she’s mine to protect.

    Highlighted by 4,764 Kindle readers


Product details

ASIN :

B09PKTYKGZ

File size :

5478 KB

Text-to-speech :

Enabled

Screen reader :

Supported

Enhanced typesetting :

Enabled

X-Ray :

Enabled

Word wise :

Enabled


Sample

Chapter 1

Sawyer

Cancer tastes like shit.

I suck in deeply, menthol gliding past my tongue and filling my lungs with manufactured chemicals. How many of these do I have to smoke before cancer invades my cells, metastasizing until I’m ridden with disease?

My throat tightens and revolts against the tobacco, forcing out a harsh cough. I pull the cigarette away and stare at it, my face twisted in disgust as smoke filters out of my nose and mouth. I rock my hand, viewing it from different angles.

A bright orange glow radiates from the tip, gray ash eating at the paper.

Fire is on the tip, flaring as if to entice me to wrap my lips back around it.

Nope.

Still isn’t appealing.

A tanned hand reaches out, nabbing the cigarette before I can stub it on the sand.

“Give me that before you waste it.”

I frown. How flammable is sand? I bet not at all. It’s too dense—nothing to feed the oxygen. Not unless I pour gasoline all over it. I bet it’d make the beach prettier, though.

Fire on the shoreline of a vast, blue ocean? Who wouldn’t want to see that?

The salty sea breeze blows softly, coercing the blonde, curly tendrils around my face into a sensual dance. I tuck the locks behind my ear, too tired to pull them back into the loose knot tied low on my head.

I look over to the guy sitting next to me. His overgrown sandy hair curls against the nape of his neck and the dagger tattoo behind his ear is alluring against his sun-kissed skin. All of his tattoos are—he's covered in them.

I still don’t know his name, but his cock is nice, and that’s all that really matters. Well, that, and his murderous nicotine. He’s not the type I usually go for, but I was feeling lonely and entertained the first guy who didn’t make me nauseous.

“What kind of cancer do you think you’ll get from that?” I ask, nodding toward the cigarette in his hand.

He quirks a thick brow, his pretty blue eyes sparkling in the morning glow. “I dunno. Lung cancer is too typical. Throat?”

“Do you think you’ll die?”

He barks out a short laugh. “I fucking hope so.”

I nod, reaching out my hand for him to give it back to me. He looks at me like I’m strange, a beat passing before he does as I ask.

Another inhale, and it tastes a little better with the reminder that I’m ingesting death into my lungs.

Yeah, that tastes much better.

Loud waves crash up the shore, rolling up and reaching toward my chipped baby blue painted toes with outstretched claws, before sinking back down and dragging sand with them.

The ocean is beautiful. But it’s also unforgivable. Within seconds, it can turn against you. Drag you down so violently, you don’t know which way is up, and feed you into its cavernous mouth until you drown or end up between the teeth of something much scarier.

I inhale again deeply, closing my eyes as I feel the smoke fill my lungs and stick inside of them.

Cigarettes are also unforgivable, with the way they eat at you from the inside out. Kill you slowly, and then all at once.

I decide I like the ocean, and I like cigarettes.

Because I… I am also unforgivable.

A picture containing invertebrate, worm Description automatically generated

“That will be $68.10,” the cashier says pleasantly, a smile on his face.

“For a pregnancy test and a pack of cigarettes?” I ask incredulously.

The guy chuckles. “’Fraid so.”

“That’s literally robbery,” I mutter, but I’m not sure if he heard me because he’s still smiling.

I’d love to siphon some of that happiness for myself, but after three weeks in Port Valen, Australia, I don’t feel any safer than I did in America.

After landing, I checked the news online, and authorities were informed that I was possibly sighted at the airport and presumed to have escaped on a plane. The lady at the ticket counter may or may not be able to identify me and confirm my flight to Australia, regardless of using a different name. At the very least, she could say I was acting suspicious and give them a reason to look.

I’m not safe in this country—they’d turn me in to U.S. authorities if caught—but it’s too risky to fly to a country that’d grant me mercy. So, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m staying here for a while yet, and that it’s time to take on the life of someone else again.

There are worse places to be, I suppose.

Port Valen is a beautiful seaside town on the east coast, surrounded by a bright aqua blue ocean and crowded with tourists looking to shark dive or explore the coral reefs. Outside of the beach, it’s rich with massive waterfalls and diving holes surrounded by wildlife and miles of bright forests, attracting hikers from around the world.

It’s also expensive as hell here.

I dig through my ratty coin purse, strings frayed at the edges and getting caught in the zipper. I count out the bills and coins, berating myself for winding up in this situation. Precious money down the drain because I can hardly stand to be alone, plus the extra cost since now I feel the need to get a buzz just to take the edge off.

Problem is, that edge is sharp and jagged, and there’s not a drug in this world that will prevent it from cutting me.

“Here ya go,” I tell him, forcing a smile on my numb face. Feels like when Mom used to take me to the dentist, and I walked out with lidocaine injected in my mouth and no control over my facial muscles. I always used to giggle at the odd feeling, but I don't feel much like laughing now.

He hands me the change and my purchases, another smile on his face. Now it’s almost annoying how happy he is.

“Have a good day,” he chirps.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

I snatch the sack and rush toward the exit of the grocery store, my bright orange flip-flops clacking against the dirty white tile.

This stupid fucking pregnancy test really cut into the little allowance I give myself. Still, I’d rather know if a little alien is invading my body than live in fear, obsessively checking my stomach on any reflective surface I come by just to see if it grew an inch.

I live with enough fear, I don’t need any more.

They can’t find you, Sawyer. You’re safe.

I shake my head, persistent on staying in the cold, lonely place where the terror resides. Am I safe?

If my insides are being invaded by an alien, that will make my life that much harder. I can’t take care of a child and provide for myself. I’m barely doing that as it is, and my means for doing so are… God, they’re awful.

My thoughts spiral, picturing a little blonde baby in my arms, screaming at the top of its lungs because they’re hungry and suffering from diaper rash or something. I’d have to give the baby up for adoption, no question.

But it’d break my fucking heart. Or whatever is left of it.

My breathing is starting to escalate, and I work to control it, fighting to fill my tightening lungs. Bright sunlight warms my cheeks as I storm out of the automatic doors, run out of the parking lot, and onto the sidewalk, my dollar store flip-flops threatening to snap from my speed.

I inhale deeply, desperately sucking in oxygen, but it's clogging my throat.

My period is a week late, though I’ve been stressed. Really stressed. I’ve never prayed so much—hovering over a toilet with my thumbs hooked in my shorts, begging the gods to give me a reason to use the tampon in my hand.

I think Heaven has me on their shitlist.

Which is such bullshit, even though I can’t blame the angels for rebuking me in the name of the Lord.

The taste of the salty ocean lingers in the air, coating my tongue as I continue to suck in deep breaths and feel my tightened chest loosen just a bit. Something about the smell of the sea always soothes my tortured lungs, whether it’s because I’m abusing them with a panic attack or cigarette smoke.

It’s something I’ll mourn when I eventually move on to the next destination.

For now, I appreciate the beauty of Port Valen while I can. Greenery surrounds the streets, along with bright pops of pink, orange, and purples from flowers. Massive cliffs are far behind me, and though miles away, their imposing structures are not to be ignored.

A group of women pass by in their thong bikinis and tops, and I can’t help but fall in love with how laid-back this town is.

Even more dangerous, I’m falling in love with Port Valen as a whole, despite the man-eating spiders that inhabit this country.

I speed walk toward the bus stop and plop on the bench with a shaky exhale, the plastic bag dangling between my spread legs. There’s a magpie circling overhead, setting me further on edge. I’ve learned the hard way that the demon birds like to swoop down and attack unprovoked. I’m still traumatized from the last one and pray the bus gets here quicker than scheduled.

I could’ve driven Senile Suzy, the van I bought last week. It’s an old, buttery-yellow Volkswagen—the ones you’d see hippies back in the 70s driving around. Living out of a van is more ideal than a hotel, and I got incredibly lucky to find one for much cheaper than it’s worth. He claimed it was his daughter’s who had passed away, and he just wanted it gone.

I don’t have my license here anyway, and I’m not confident enough to drive on the opposite side of the road. I’m convinced I’ll perish from a car wreck or get pulled over and caught driving without a license.

On cue, the magpie squawks as if to warn me that taking my chances with Senile Suzy might be safer, but thankfully, it flies elsewhere.

Hands shaking from the residual anxiety, I dig through the bag and pluck out the pack of cigarettes. I shouldn’t be smoking these in my possible predicament, yet the thought of death is too enticing, and I’m too scared to do anything else.

I’m ashamed of myself, but I don’t think I know what it’s like to feel anything else.

Don’t make it a habit, Sawyer. You have enough of those.

Just as I slide one out and stick it in my mouth, I realize two things. I forgot to buy a lighter, and there’s somebody sitting next to me, the weight of their stare hardening on my face like dried clay.

I turn to find an older man with deep brown skin holding out an orange lighter as bright as my flip-flops, his thumb poised on the striker and ready to ignite it for me. He’s wearing an old white shirt and an aged khaki-colored ball cap on his head. Sweat gleams down the side of his face, but he smells like Old Spice and salt.

Smiling, I lean forward, and he flicks it. I’m just as mesmerized by the fire as I am by watching it eat at the flimsy paper. Smoke coils from the stick into the salty air, burning my eyes as it wafts into my face.

“Thank you,” I say, waving away the smoke. “Do you want one?”

“Sure,” he says. I hand him a cigarette and watch him closely as he lights his own, an orange glow blaring as he inhales.

“Been trying to cut back on smoking but can never seem to let ’em go for good,” he muses conversationally.

A terrible problem to have, and one I shouldn’t inflict on myself, but then a wave of euphoria washes over me, and I suppose it’s not so bad. It won’t last more than a minute, however it makes the sharp edge bearable, and that’s all I need right now. That, and good company.

“When have we ever been able to let go of the things that hurt us most?” I mutter.

“Well, you got me there.”

I grin. “What’s your name?” I ask, attempting to blow out a smoky O but failing miserably.

He chuckles, the sound husky. “Can’t remember the last time a pretty young lady asked me my name. Name’s Simon.”

Normally, an old, strange man calling me pretty would have me getting up and walking away without a backward glance, but the way he says it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, it makes me feel a little like what a home is supposed to feel like. Warm and welcoming. Safe.

That sense of comfort lulls me into doing something I rarely do. Something I never do. I give him my real name.

“Sawyer. Thanks for keeping me company, Simon.”

A beat of silence passes, and then, “Want to see my new tattoo?”

Surprise has me pausing for a brief second, the cigarette suspended halfway to my mouth before I shoot out a quick, “I’d love to,” and then trap the filter in the corner of my lips.

He rolls up his cargo shorts and shows me his new ink. Black, uneven lines make up the words “Fuck You” stacked in the middle of his thigh, still puffy and irritated. This time, I genuinely am caught off guard.

Astonished laughter bursts from my throat, and I almost lose my cigarette in the process, but I wouldn’t have cared if I did.

“Oh my God, I love that. Probably more than my favorite toe. Did that hurt?” I ask, leaning closer to inspect the ink. It’s obviously not professionally done—in fact, it’s a pretty shit job—but I think that’s what I like most about it.

“Nah,” he says, waving a hand. “It’s therapeutic. Not sure what you mean by a favorite toe, though.”

I hold up my left foot and point to it. “My pinkie toe is really cute, don’t you think?”

He leans over and inspects it closely. “You’re right. I like that toe, too.”

Smiling, I drop my foot and stare down at the misshapen words. I’m in love with it. I could always use a little therapy in the form of a reckless—and slightly manic—decision.

I suck in another mouthful of smoke and blow it out, trying to fight the impulse rising inside of me.

“Where did you get that?”

He shrugs. “I did it myself. Ever heard of tebori?”

I shake my head, so he digs in his pocket and pulls out a vial of black ink and a handful of sealed needles.

I raise my brows, wondering why he would carry this stuff with him, but glad that he’s at least using unused needles.

“It’s a traditional Japanese method. People call ’em stick and poke tattoos,” he explains.

“How does it work?”

He explains the process to me, which sounds pretty simple. So simple, that I consider doing one myself. I don’t have any tattoos nor the luxury of going to a shop and paying for one.

Just as I open my mouth to ask where he got the supplies from, he cuts in, “You want me to do one for you?”

I cock my head at him, a grin clawing its way up my cheeks.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding my head, deciding the idea of a stranger giving me a tattoo at a bus stop is too good to pass up. It’s the perfect kind of spontaneity I need. “What do you want for it?”

He nods toward my plastic bag. “That pack of cigs will be enough.”

The look he casts me gives me the distinct feeling that he’s more interested in keeping me from smoking them rather than smoking them himself. I wonder if he noticed what else was in the bag.

I smile. “Deal. I want one just like yours. Same place, too. We can match.”

I like the idea of having a matching tattoo with Simon. I guess it makes me feel like I’ve found a friend in my lonely little world and will have someone to remember when I eventually leave.

More importantly, I like the message. Because really, those exact words cross my mind every day. What better phrase to get tattooed than my daily mantra?

He grins, showcasing slightly crooked teeth, and motions for me to turn my thigh toward him. Cutoff shorts are my everyday attire here, so he’ll be able to put one in the same place as his easily.

The bus is approaching, so we’ll miss our ride, but another bus will show up in thirty minutes—plenty of time to get my first tattoo.

He uncaps the vial and pours out a tiny bit of inky black liquid into the lid, and then tears open the package with a new needle.

“Octopus ink,” he tells me. “Best ink you can get.”

I nod, though I don’t necessarily care. Everything about this is unsanitary anyway. If my body rejects it, it will make a pretty cool scar. Though I’ve always really liked octopi, so I guess it’ll be nice to have a part of them injected into me.

They can disappear so easily, camouflage themselves to blend in with their surroundings, and that’s all I’ve really wanted in life. Maybe with this new tattoo, I can pretend that its ink corroded everything that makes me human and will allow me to disappear just like them.

I frown, knowing it’s never like the movies where a lonely kid gains an incredible superpower. I think I resent octopi a little, too.

My new friend leans down close to my thigh, his brown eyes never straying from his task as his surprisingly steady hand meticulously pokes ink into my skin. The sharp pinpricks release all kinds of endorphins into my system, and I decide here, and now, that I’m addicted to tattoos.

This is better than cigarettes, though since they’re his now, he does allow me to smoke one more during the process. To take the edge off, he says.

A few more people join us, and it makes me laugh when none of them look the least bit surprised to see a girl getting a tebori tattoo while waiting for the bus, as if this is a common occurrence in Port Valen. One guy even comes over and asks for one of his own, but Simon tells him to find him another day.

The whole experience is odd, but it’s brought me happiness, and that foreign feeling is better than sex. I experience so little joy, and too often, strange men crowd over me and invade my body.

Most importantly, it’s made me forget.

Twenty-five minutes later, Simon straightens up, his face contorting in pain and his back cracking from being locked in an uncomfortable position for so long.

I feel bad for the pain I caused him, and he must note the expression on my face because he shoots me a stern look, much like how a father would when scolding their child. “Don’t you feel bad for me, young lady. It’s a blessing to be old, and every blessing is a little bittersweet.”

I still feel bad, but I nod and lean down to examine my tattoo. My thigh is bright red and irritated, amplifying the harsh lines.

Fuck You, in bold black letters, though mine looks a little neater than his. Regardless, they’re still uneven and wobbly, and I’m relieved about it. That’s why I love it so much.

“It’s perfect.”

“Imperfect,” he corrects, eyeing his work.

“Perfectly imperfect,” I compromise, smiling big at him. My cheeks hurt from how widely they’re being stretched, but just like every time that needle poked through my skin, the pain feels good. “All the best things are.”

He lights another cig and leans back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Simon looks like he’s lived his life very thoroughly, and I want to know what led him to this bus stop, giving a strange girl a tattoo on a Tuesday afternoon.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “You’re also very strange.” I grin wider when he echoes my exact thoughts.

“So are you, Simon. So are you.” The look we share speaks volumes—we’re both content with being strange.

Right then, the bus pulls up, the engine rumbling loudly. When the doors hiss and then glide open, I stand up and offer my elbow to him, as if I’m escorting him to a ball.

He waves his hand, shooing me on.

“I prefer to walk. My old bones need the movement, or else they’ll lock up forever.”

My brows draw in. “Then why were you sitting at the bus stop?”

He shrugs. “I was passing by, and you looked like you needed a friend.”

Dropping my elbow, a weird piercing feeling stabs me in the chest. Disappointment.

I wanted to talk to Simon more. Ask him questions and learn more about the man behind the worn clothes and octopus ink.

He’s observant, too, once more noting the expression on my face. Or maybe I just wear my feelings on my sleeve too much.

“We’ll cross paths again, Sawyer. Life has a funny way of throwing people into your path when you’re meant to collide. It’s up to you to choose to make it permanent.”

“Permanence,” I mutter, tasting the foreign word on my tongue. “You’re already permanent, Simon, just as much as this tattoo.”

He smiles at me, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Then I’ll see you soon, won’t I?”

Feeling a tad better, I pick up my plastic bag, and the rustle of its contents reminds me of what else is in it. The small grin on my face slips. Simon will no longer distract me from my impending situation, and suddenly, I’m really dreading this ride alone.

“I hope so. Nice meeting you, Simon.”

And then I turn, my thigh burning as I make my way onto the bus. I put my coins in the slot and find a seat far in the back. The faux leather is hot and sticky against the backs of my thighs, but I hardly notice.

I face the window, getting one last glimpse of Simon waving at me before the bus takes off.

At least I didn’t have to go to a shop and use a credit card or take out any more money. I’m only giving myself a couple more days before it’s time to grab a drink.

Then, I’ll start over as someone else.

Not Sawyer Bennett, but someone who wishes they never met her.

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About the authors

H. D. Carlton

H. D. Carlton

H. D. Carlton is an International and USA Today Bestselling author. She lives in Oregon with her husband, Bigfoot, two dogs, and cat. When she’s not bathing in the tears of her readers, she’s watching paranormal shows and wishing she was a mermaid. Her favorite characters are of the morally gray variety and believes that everyone should check their sanity at the door before diving into her stories.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

4.3 out of 5

56,713 global ratings

Reading with FeFe

Reading with FeFe

5

Enzo is the epitome of spicy!!

Reviewed in the United States on April 3, 2023

Verified Purchase

1st person/dual pov Spice: 10/5 - Hot AF!

WHOA... just whoa. If I had to sum this book up in just one word it would be that one. I am so glad I held off on reading this until the audio was out because experiencing it for the first time on audio was beyond amazing. I am once again blown away by the performance of Troy and Michelle. I have listened to them narrate together before but this one is my favorite of theirs. It. Was. Perfect. Troy's accents are phenomenal, but the old man in the lighthouse felt like a whole new person joined the cast! And don't even get me started on Enzo and his drool-worthy Italian self. My Italian obsessed self was all but clawing at my headphones wanting to pull that man into real life haha! However, my favorite thing about the narration was Michelle's performance. Her sassy and sarcastic attitude towards Enzo made their banter truly come to life and the way she delivered all of the little quirky things that Sawyer would say when anxious had me hollering! It felt so genuine and real that it just made me love the character even more. It's audiobooks like this that keep you coming back for more.

Now for the story itself. I had no idea what to expect when the book started. We know Sawyer is running from someone and something in her past but we aren't really sure what. She alludes to the fact that she is a fugitive so we assume it's the law she is running from but still, I wasn't completely sure that was the whole situation. I also had no idea what she could have done to warrant being hunted down. It's all very mysterious and will definitely keep your attention hooked. In a last-minute change of plans to avoid being caught, she lands herself on a plane and winds up in a little coastal town in Australia. Here we find out that she has been stealing the identities of different men in order to fly under the radar and avoid being found. She is determined to keep a low profile and only spends money on things she feels she needs to in order to survive and not draw attention to herself. This has worked for her for years and no one has ever caught on to her. Then she meets Enzo.

Enzo is this dark and broody gorgeous Italian man with a chip on his shoulder and Sawyer knows spending even one night with him is a terrible idea yet she can't stop herself. After a night together that neither of them expected Sawyer does what she always does and steals the information she needs before leaving his house without a backward glance. She never expected him to see him again. So when he runs into her several days later and invites her out on his boat she gives in and goes knowing this is yet another terrible idea. What she didn't know was that Enzo had a secret of his own and no longer feels anything for her but hatred. A secret that led to rushed decisions and not checking the weather before hitting the water. Actions that land them in the middle of the ocean where a storm creeps up on them putting their lives in danger. Now they must work together to survive until they can find a way to make it back to civilization while facing the secrets between them that are all slowly coming to the surface. Oh and not giving into the intense attraction they have for one another of course lol.

This story has way more suspense to it than I was expecting and I loved it. If you like a good bit of mystery with your romance then this is a good one to pick up. It's got some great humor as well because the banter between these two is full of sass and enemies to lovers/hate to like or love you vibes. I thought it was paced very well and didn't feel like it was dragging on even though several weeks go by with them stranded together. And if you want something spicy that will blow your mind and have your libido doing jumping jacks well this one will do that and then some!

The. Spice. Is. Next. Level. Just when I thought I couldn't be shocked by some of these smutty scenes anymore here comes Enzo and his wild AF ways of bringing someone to ecstasy until they almost die. And no I'm not kidding - near death is sometimes an understatement lol. I honestly never thought I would find myself using spicy and sharks together to describe a book but I should really learn to never say never in the romance world, especially when it comes to dark romance. (and yea sharks are involved but no - no lines like "that" were crossed so before anyone jumps to crazy conclusions just chill - we like it dark but not that dark over here so kindly step away from the report buttons and read the book first so you know what I'm talking about lol) Beyond that you've got a dirty talking man, in English and Italian thank you very much, who's mission is to bring his partner to ecstasy in ways that are nothing short of a religious experience. Telling someone you're going to see God may induce an eye roll until you realize he meant it literally and not figuratively haha! I can promise you that whether you're religious or not this man would make you see the gates of some sort of afterlife before bringing you back from the brink via 0rg@sm. That my friends is enough to have me sold on any book and the fact that the rest of it is so enjoyable is just a bonus.

So run, don't walk, and listen to daddy Enzo learn you a thing or two about experiencing life-altering spice hahaha. But please if you need TWs do not, I repeat do not, skip the ones for this book. Trust me. It's worth it because Enzo just knocked Zade out of his top spot when it comes to HD Carlton's book men and that alone is saying something.

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133 people found this helpful

LHSunnyCali

LHSunnyCali

5

Amazing!!!

Reviewed in the United States on July 28, 2024

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This story was intriguing and suspenseful, add well written characters and well written SPICY scenes made a well written story. The FMC Sawyer ,is running from her past stealing identities to live on happens to run into a wrong man MMC Enzo. The story is so well written that it keeps you interested until the end. There are scenes where by you amazed, not once did I feel lost or bored so therefore I had to finish it in one day and that same evening. Now I can see why, “Does It Hurt “, is so popular . The intense and erotic sex scenes are so beautifully designed to emulate the euphoric description allowing you to experience all . Throughout this book you are emerged with the characters ( Sawyer and Enzo) land their feelings and personalities and you will fall into Love with them both. It’s a MUST READ! Enjoy & Happy Romance reading!

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amanda

amanda

5

Sharks and spice

Reviewed in the United States on July 31, 2024

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I wanted to read this for the shark and boat scene people were talking about but enjoyed the whole story. Finding out why Sawyer was on the run and what happened in her past was sad. I loved the stick and poke tattoo Sawyer received waiting on the bus. The banter when Sawyer meets Enzo was hilarious. I was on the edge of my seat reading the shark and boat scene waiting to see what the sharks would do. The lighthouse and Sylvester was a mystery I kept trying to figure out as pieces unraveled. There was definitely something weird going on with a curfew and the noises. Sylvesters back story kept me guessing on who he was and what really happened before Enzo and Sawyer arrived. I was shocked at what Sylvester was going to do to Sawyer to make her stay with him. I loved the back and forth between Sawyer and Enzo with their love/hate relationship. It was so sweet when Enzo was protecting Sawyer. I loved the ending. It was funny when Enzos went back to work and being fussed at for missing work. Plus the shark cage scene at the end. I really enjoyed this story and would recommend for others as well.

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Kat

Kat

5

Another masterpiece

Reviewed in the United States on August 13, 2024

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5 stars (I couldn't stop thinking about the book for weeks, ruined other books I read next) 4 spice (there was plenty of spice, but there was still a really good plot) Before anything else, be sure to CHECK THE TW'S Ok, that's taken care of. Let's get into it. Tropes: forced proximity, can't stand each other to lovers, glow worms. Review: HD Carlton has a distinct writing voice and I love it. The story had unexpected twists and emotional moments. If you want an accelerated heart rate and a broody MMC, this is for you. All hail the bean gods!

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Flipping Nap Time

Flipping Nap Time

5

So much more than just romance!

Reviewed in the United States on August 4, 2024

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As a dark romance reader I’m so sad I waited so long to read a book by H.D. Carlton! Does it Hurt? Has it all! Romance, spice, near death experiences, action, paranormal activity, a sweet HEA, sharks, Italian accents! Enzo and Sawyer are the perfect storm. The chemistry between them is electric and jumps off the page effortlessly. Sylvester gave me the creeps and I’m sure the description of how he mangled his daughter will haunt me for a bit. If you haven’t read a thriller romance, you are missing out! 10/10 recommend!

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