Synopsis
When Sydney Morrison learned the
dark truth about who she really is, her whole world turned black. Tormented by
her identity and deeply depressed, she confides in no one, not even her hot and
adoring best friend, Henry. But Sydney
does tell Henry about the epic crush she has on her famous writing teacher,
Professor Sparling.
Convinced she doesn’t stand a
chance with the professor, Sydney is shocked when he takes a special interest
in her. The two begin a torrid online affair that pulls Sydney out of her shell
and makes her feel desired and daring. And as Sydney tumbles into a journey
that’s erotic beyond her imagination, her relationship with Henry gets
complicated.
My Thoughts
When It’s Love by Emma Lauren is a
fantastic, roller coaster story that will leave you breathless. The journey
starts with meeting Sydney Morrison, who is harboring a naughty, school girl
crush on Professor Sparling. Their professional relationship changes when
Professor Sparling reaches out to Sydney. This starts a chain of events that
push Sydney out of her safe bubble and into the world of camera phones and
button up shirts. At first I was convinced I knew where this book was going but
then Lauren introduced Henry, Sydney’s best friend who happens to be smoking
hot and will do anything for her. That ‘anything’ just so happens to make
Sydney’s world flip upside down. Along with hot best friends and drool worthy
professors, Emma Lauren had me on the edge of my seat with Sydney’s dark past
that seems to follow her. As Sydney’s fears catch up to her, she seeks help
from the wrong person while pushing aside the one she should have gone to all
along; but this will be a lesson Sydney will have to learn on her own. The story really picks up when the suspense
thickens as the past closes in on Sydney while new threats emerge. Just as we
reach the top of the roller coaster, the book ends and it feels like the ride
stopped with us dangling over the edge. Emma Lauren has brought back the infuriating
yet thrilling cliff hanger ending, and I can’t wait until May for her next
installment, When It’s Over.
Excerpt
Professor Sparling is so out of my league. What he could he possibly see in me? But he sees something, obviously, because he
reached out to me, and I don’t want to lose his interest. What I feel for him is pure passion and I’m
exploding with it. Of all the intense
emotions I’ve
experienced in life– rage, fear, depression and frustration
– this passion is the only one that’s felt impossible to contain.
My hands are shaking as I type: Professor Sparling, I wanted to impress you because I’m drawn to you.
If only I could write just how drawn I am to him. But that would come across either way too
romantic, or way too forward. It’s not
like I can just write to my professor that I spent half of the time in his
classes thinking about either kissing him for two hours straight, or unzipping
his pants. I can’t even say that I’ve been waiting fourteen weeks for him to
really notice me. But most of all, I can’t tell him that he’s the one I believe
can lead me out of the dark places where all I feel are shame and grief. I want to end my internal ache, push the pain
away, and live the life of a normal college student. College years are supposed to be carefree,
but I haven’t gone to any parties. I never even go out for dinner unless the
Harts invite me over to Ottawa Estate, or Henry drags me somewhere. All I’ve wanted to do at Addison is be at
home alone with my cats. My most social
activity is watching movies with Henry.
This little online flirty exchange, though, is giving rise to the part
of me that has been totally shut down.
Apparently along with the sadness inside my body lives a full-fledged
diva, and these emails are waking her up like a kiss from Prince Charming. The diva’s voice is nothing like that of my
withdrawn, anti-social persona who always dresses in gray and thinks she can’t
compete with the Melanies of the world.
I stare at my computer screen waiting for a reply. It comes within seconds.
Sydney, Please call me
Paul. And tell me, to which part of me
are you drawn?
Call him Peter? No
way. I can’t think of him as Paul. Not yet, at least. Part of the appeal, after all, is the fact
that he’s my professor. I bet he’d like
it if I dressed up as a schoolgirl in a teeny pleated, plaid skirt. I’m sure he would teach me a lesson or two!
I can’t believe this is happening. I am flirting with Professor Paul Sparling,
man of my dreams, or at least man of my sexual fantasies. I wished for this a million times, but I never
expected it to come true. And I never
imagined it would begin with email.
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