09 October 2015

Title: Madame X (Madame X #1)
Author: Jasinda Wilder
Publisher: Berkley, 304 Pages (October 6th, 2015)
From: the Publisher
Format: eARC/Finished Paperback
Add to: Goodreads
Order a copy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, The Book Depository, Amazon UK, Kobo, iBooks, BAM

NOTE: This is a Adult novel. Due to mature content this title is recommended for ages 18+
Synopsis: My name is Madame X.
I’m the best at what I do.
And you’d do well to follow my rules...

Hired to transform the uncultured, inept sons of the wealthy and powerful into decisive, confident men, Madame X is a master of the art of control. With a single glance she can cut you down to nothing, or make you feel like a king.

But there is only one man who can claim her body—and her soul.

Undone time and again by his exquisite dominance, X craves and fears his desire in equal measure. And while she longs for a different path, X has never known anything or anyone else—until now...

Review: 4.5 Stars - Madame X is the first book in a new trilogy from author Jasinda Wilder. The story, writing and characters are different, unique and a wonderful surprise for a reader who went in without any expectations. And in the end was blown away by the mystery surrounding the characters.

This was one of those books that when I read the synopsis I knew I had to read it. The synopsis alone makes this book extremely intriguing to me. It also, really doesn’t tell you all that much about the book, which fits perfectly with the story itself. You get a chance to meet the characters and yet by the end of the book you find yourself scratching your head wondering a few things.

First, what the heck did I just read and what the heck is going on?
Second, wow that was a breath of fresh air!
Third, I have NO idea who these characters are, nor do I understand what’s going on but that’s A-OKAY with me because that book was pretty amazing.
Forth, the tester for the next book…. SHUT. UP.
Fifth, when can I get my hands on Exposed because I NEED it?

Those are just a hand full of things that are still crossing my mind after finishing days ago.

The main part of the story is all about Madame X. (Yep, that’s her name and not to worry, when you read the book you’ll find out how she got it too.) We find out bits and pieces along the way, yet nothing truly concrete. She’s a strong woman, she’s controlled in all things due to Caleb and she knows nothing of the people or the things they do around her, also due to Caleb. As she begins to question the larger world that’s beyond her condo her life takes a turn and wow… I had NO idea what was about to happen next.

I have so many questions and this review is one of the hardest I’ve ever written because I don’t want to give anything away… but I started to question things more and more as I read because as I mentioned above you truly have no clue who each of the characters are. Madame X herself has no past and if you ask me a bleak future if she stays on the path she’s chosen. And then Caleb… I’m not much of a fan of him at this point for so many reasons, one is his business that I again, did NOT see coming, among other things that X realizes as she questions her life. However he’s all she knows. He is extremely dominant, controlled in all things including X. And I mean all things X as in she just about can’t take a step without him telling her how far her strides should be.

Yet no matter how much I want to hate Caleb I kind of can’t. He’s sitting on a sharp edge with me, and can fall either way because there’s still so much we don’t know yet. There are some underlying parts that give the reader just enough to assume he’s dealing with his own damaged parts, yet there’s nothing there to actually acknowledge he’s broken.

And we also have Logan… who I’m questioning as well because he’s keeping so many secrets too that I wonder if X would be walking from one wolfs den right into another.

This book in a way made me dizzy because I was so twisted up and looking for answers yet more questions were brought up faster than I could turn the page on my Kindle. And it’s not often that I’m able to find a book where I’m left with more questions that I was given answers that I loved as much as this one. Jasinda took these characters and her unique way of storytelling within this book and created something that I can’t get enough of. I want more. I need more and Exposed will be one book I’m looking forward to more than I can begin to explain. And in case you didn’t get the note from my review, I do highly recommend this title to everyone. It’s an Adult title for sexual situations, language, drinking and some violence which readers should consider before reading. Yet there’s so much more to the story than just these adult themes. Future readers should be prepared for one heck of a ride with this one and trust me, you’ll want the next book just as bad as I do. Enjoy.

NOTE: This is a Adult novel. Due to mature content this title is recommended for ages 18+


A knock on the door, the silent swing of hinges, and then heat and hardness behind me, a faint but intoxicating hint of cologne, the creak of leather. Hands on my waist, lips at my neck.Breath on my skin.

I don’t dare tense, don’t dare suck in a sharp breath of fear. I don’t dare pull away.
Strong, hard, powerful hands twist me in place, and an index finger touches my chin, lifts my face, tilts my gaze. I cannot breathe, don’t dare, haven’t been given permission.

“You are lovelier than ever, X.” A deep, smooth, cultured voice, like the purr of a finely tuned engine.

“Thank you, Caleb.” My own voice is quiet, careful, my words chosen and precise.

“Scotch.” The command is a murmur, barely audible.

I know how to prepare it: a cut-crystal tumbler, a single ice cube, thick amber liquid an inch from the top. I offer the tumbler and wait, keep my eyes downcast, hands behind my back.

“You were too harsh on Jonathan.”

“I must respectfully disagree.”

“His father expects results.”

I bristle, and it does not go unnoticed. “Have I ever failed to produce results?”

“You sent him away after less than an hour.”

“He wasn’t ready. He needed to be shown his faults. He needs to understand how much he has to learn.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Ice clinks, and I take the empty tumbler, set it aside, and force myself to remain in place, force myself to keep breathing and remind myself that I must obey. “I didn’t come here to discuss Jonathan Cartwright, however.”

“I suppose not.” I shouldn’t have said that. I regret it as soon as the words tumble free.

My wrist bones scrape together under a crushing grip. Hard dark eyes find mine, piercing and frightening. “You suppose not?”

I should beg forgiveness, but I know better. I lift my chin and meet those cold, cruel, intelligent dark eyes. “You know I will fulfill the contract. That’s all I meant.”

“No, that isn’t all you meant.” A hand passes through artfully messy black hair. “Tell me what you really meant, X.”

I swallow hard. “You’re here for what you always want when you visit me.”

“Which is?” A warm finger touches my breastbone, slides into the valley of my cleavage. “Tell me what I want.”

“Me.” I whisper it, so not even the walls can hear.

“All too true.” My skin burns where that strong finger with its manicured nail traces a cutting line up to my shoulder. “You test my patience, at times.”

I stand stock-still, not even breathing. Breath whispers across my neck, huffs hot on my nape, and fingers toy with the zipper of my dress.

“I know,” I say.

And then, just when I expect to feel the zipper slide down my spine, body heat recedes and that hot breath now laced with hints of scotch is gone, and a single word sears my soul:


My tongue scrapes over dry lips, and my lungs constrict, protesting my inability to breathe. My hands tremble. I know this is expected of me, and I cannot, dare not resist, or protest. And . . . part of me doesn’t want to. But I wish . . . I wish for the freedom to choose what I want.

I have hesitated too long.

“X. I said . . . strip.” The zipper slides down to between my shoulder blades. “Show me your skin.”

Reaching behind my back, I lower the zipper to its nesting place at the base of my spine. Hard, insistent hands assist me in brushing the sleeves from my shoulders, down my arms, and then the dress is floating to the floor at my feet. That’s all the help I’ll get. I know from long experience that I must make a show of what comes next.

I turn my head, and see tanned skin and the perpetual two-day stubble on a refined, powerful jawline, sharp cheekbones, firm, thin lips, black eyes like voids, eyes that drip desire. My hair drapes over one shoulder. I lift one knee so my now-bare toes touch the gleaming teak, curl my shoulders in, let my gaze show my vulnerability. With a deep breath, I unhook my bra, let the garment fall away.

I reach for my underwear.

“No,” comes the purr, “leave them. Let me.”

I let my fingers graze my thighs, wait. My underwear slides down slowly, and where fingers touch, so too do lips, hot and damp, touching my skin, and I cannot flinch, cannot pull away or express how badly I want only to be alone, to even once have the right to want something else.

But I do not have that right.

About the Author:

Jasinda Wilder is a New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and international bestselling author. She is a Michigan native and currently lives there with her family. Visit her official website at jasindawilder.com

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