"Emotional, layered, sexy, and deeply satisfying, with stunning prose and a sweeping storyline, REEL is everything that has Kennedy Ryan fans devouring her books.”
-- Lexi Ryan, New York Times bestselling author
Reel, an all new epic CONTEMPORARY STANDALONE love story from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Kennedy Ryan, is available now!
One moment in the spotlight.
For months I stood by, an understudy waiting in the wings, preparing for my time to shine.
I never imagined he would watch in the audience that night.
Canon Holt.
Famous film director.
Fascinating. Talented. Fine.
Before I could catch my breath, everything changed.
I went from backstage Broadway to center stage Hollywood.
From being unknown, to my name, Neevah Saint, on everyone’s lips.
Canon casts me in a star-studded Harlem Renaissance biopic, catapulting me into another stratosphere.
But stars shine brightest in the dead of night.
Forbidden attraction, scandal and circumstances beyond my control jeopardize my dream.
Could this one shot—the role of a lifetime, the love of a lifetime—cost me everything?
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ALSO AVAILABLE IN AUDIO NOW!
"Bravo . . .A true literary audio experience!"
-- Alexandria House, Amazon & Audible bestselling author
Narrated by Eboni Flowers and Jakobi Diem
Featuring Nicole Small
Vocal Performance by April Christina
➜ Audible: http://mybook.to/ReelAudio
My Review
I received an advanced copy of this book with the promise of an honest review.
Neevah and Cannon are just wonderful. I was a bit worried with him being her director, that their relationship could have easily gone into extremely inappropriate territory, but thankfully it didn't. There were actually a few plot points that I kept waiting to go certain ways. Basically the plot of this book could have turned into one big cliché trope, BUT that didn't happen and I am grateful to the author for that.
I just loved this book y'all. It's sweet and sexy and tackles important topics. Kennedy is so good at creating a complicated story, but allowing it to unfold so effortlessly. I won't get into the specifics because I don't want to give anything away, but just know that there a lot that goes on, but it never feels like too much.
CW: cheating (past relationship), death of a parent, chronic illness
EXCERPT
“Turn around.”
It’s a guttural command. He bends me over the arm of the couch, and my hands hit the cushion for support, to steady myself. At the sound of the condom tearing, my inner muscles contract, bracing for him. He spreads my cheeks and, slipping his whole hand between my legs, cups the trembling flesh. I’m unprepared for the swipe of his tongue. For the subtle abrasion of his beard scraping the inner skin of my thighs. For the sound of him eating me. I push back against his face, helpless, no shame. Digging my nails into the cushions, I widen my legs to give me more, to take more for myself. He grips my thighs, holding me steady for his devouring mouth until, with a sob that sails over the rooftop, over the city, I contract around his delving tongue. The orgasm hits hard, tightening the muscles in my thighs and calves. With staccato breaths, I bury my face in the couch, biting my lip to the point of pain.
“Canon,” I beg. “Stop teasing me and—”
He shoves in, and the words tumble back down my throat, recessing into the shock of this pleasure.
“Jesus.” Need shreds my voice to ribbons.
He coasts his hand up my back, gently cuffs my neck. Ass in the air, I rise up on my toes, begging for breath, petitioning for more dick. He gives it to me, pushing impossibly deeper.
“So damn good,” he grunts behind me.
I hope I never get over how perfect he feels inside me, like I was molded to his specifications. Shaped for his dimensions. I moan and reach my hand back to pull at one of my cheeks, widening the way for his cock. It feels like he goes where no dick has gone before, deeper, better. Somehow I feel each thrust in my heart. His every touch plays on my emotions, and tears sting my eyes. His hand tightens at my hip, and he slides the other hand up my arm, finds my hand on the couch and laces our fingers together. He sets a frenetic pace that sends the blood singing through my body again. The cushion absorbs my scream as I come, and I punish the soft cotton with clawing nails. With his voice strangled, his fingers fisted in my hair, he comes.
Collapsing against my back, a heavy, happy burden, his breath stilted and warm at my neck, he snakes one muscled arm around my middle, clutching me. After the urgent, feral coupling, it’s a cherishing hold. I cross my arm over his at my waist and tangle our fingers. It’s fragile and sweet, this moment, like flakes of sugar disintegrating on your tongue when you’ve barely had time to taste.
“Turn around.”
It’s a guttural command. He bends me over the arm of the couch, and my hands hit the cushion for support, to steady myself. At the sound of the condom tearing, my inner muscles contract, bracing for him. He spreads my cheeks and, slipping his whole hand between my legs, cups the trembling flesh. I’m unprepared for the swipe of his tongue. For the subtle abrasion of his beard scraping the inner skin of my thighs. For the sound of him eating me. I push back against his face, helpless, no shame. Digging my nails into the cushions, I widen my legs to give me more, to take more for myself. He grips my thighs, holding me steady for his devouring mouth until, with a sob that sails over the rooftop, over the city, I contract around his delving tongue. The orgasm hits hard, tightening the muscles in my thighs and calves. With staccato breaths, I bury my face in the couch, biting my lip to the point of pain.
“Canon,” I beg. “Stop teasing me and—”
He shoves in, and the words tumble back down my throat, recessing into the shock of this pleasure.
“Jesus.” Need shreds my voice to ribbons.
He coasts his hand up my back, gently cuffs my neck. Ass in the air, I rise up on my toes, begging for breath, petitioning for more dick. He gives it to me, pushing impossibly deeper.
“So damn good,” he grunts behind me.
I hope I never get over how perfect he feels inside me, like I was molded to his specifications. Shaped for his dimensions. I moan and reach my hand back to pull at one of my cheeks, widening the way for his cock. It feels like he goes where no dick has gone before, deeper, better. Somehow I feel each thrust in my heart. His every touch plays on my emotions, and tears sting my eyes. His hand tightens at my hip, and he slides the other hand up my arm, finds my hand on the couch and laces our fingers together. He sets a frenetic pace that sends the blood singing through my body again. The cushion absorbs my scream as I come, and I punish the soft cotton with clawing nails. With his voice strangled, his fingers fisted in my hair, he comes.
Collapsing against my back, a heavy, happy burden, his breath stilted and warm at my neck, he snakes one muscled arm around my middle, clutching me. After the urgent, feral coupling, it’s a cherishing hold. I cross my arm over his at my waist and tangle our fingers. It’s fragile and sweet, this moment, like flakes of sugar disintegrating on your tongue when you’ve barely had time to taste.
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A USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Kennedy Ryan and her writings have been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour, Cosmo, TIME, O Mag and many others. A RITA® Award winner, Kennedy writes empowered women from all walks of life and centers those who have found themselves perennially on the margins of traditional storytelling.
Her Hoops Series (Long Shot, Block Shot and Hook Shot) and All the King's Men Series (The Kingmaker, The Rebel King and Queen Move) have been optioned for television.
An autism mom, Kennedy co-founded LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable initiative, and has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for autism families. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son.
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