Disillusioned: A Disappointing Understatement

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BACK COVER:

Their passion was real, but how many more secrets can Bianca accept?

When Bianca London was kidnapped and taken to a deserted island, the only positive was meeting Jakob, the mysterious and handsome man with whom she was stranded on the island. When Bianca finds out that Jakob isn’t exactly who he says he is, she fears for her life—until he does something unbelievable to gain her trust and possibly her love.

Bianca makes it back home, but soon cryptic letters start arriving, hinting of more secrets to be spilled. When Jakob comes back into her life, Bianca doesn’t know whether to trust her instincts or her heart. Jakob is still hiding things from her, and when they come out, everything she thought she knew is put to the test. Turns out getting off the island was only the beginning of the story.

REVIEW:

I give Cooper credit for attempting to pursue such a difficult and unrealistic plot, but that’s the major issue with this story: what the first book, Illusion, had planted as a possibility, Disillusioned had destroyed through its failure to deliver anything conceivable. Bianca, convinced Jacob is dangerous, still gives herself to the man. The entire story is dialogue, giving no framework or mind to time. Hell, I’ll say it: the steamy scenes are even lacking the steam aspect that romance novels need to thrive on. Furthermore, Cooper fails to build upon the characters after the first book. Somehow, through this second installment of the trilogy, they have become entirely boring and unmoving while the author is completely incapable of making a decision as to where to take the story and the characters. The dialogue is repetitive and readers are sent dancing in circles. If I had wanted to square dance, I’d have taken a class. Disappointment was the ringing theme, unfortunately, but I must be stupid because I’ll still read the third book out of pure, uncontrollable curiosity once it’s released. Sorry, Cat.

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About Jo Taylor

Sarcasm is my middle name, Poetry & I fell in love sometime back in middle school, & my books are some of my best friends. Writing is an old lost form of intimacy & reading is a relationship. My eyes were never the window to my soul; I promise you these words I write are worth way more. Joy Taylor is just my pen name. Joy is my real middle (irony isn't lost on anyone there) and Taylor is a homage to my disabled brother. Instagram: @tiff.joy, where I occasionally post some poetry amidst the craziness that is my life.

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