Series: Wesson Rebels M.C. Series, Book 3 (Stand alone)
Author: Shyla Colt
Published: May 22nd, 2015
Publisher: Hot Ink Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content Warning: Graphic Violence and sexual content
Age Recommendation: 18+
A horrific betrayal stole her voice and nearly her life. Mute and broken, Vita retreated from the world. Dependent on her brother Houdini, the family farmhouse where she licked her wounds became a tower to hide in. When her brother winds up missing, she must come clean about their past to his M.C. The result is a downward spiral that will change both of their lives forever.
The only one in Wesson Rebels who can understand sign language is Prophet. He finds himself assigned to the petite beauty. When her lies about her past become a tangled web, that threatens to ensnare them all, like changes to loathing. She’s just like the woman who ruined his family and almost took his life. Determined to keep her at a distance, he puts up a wall. When fate forces them to depend on each other for survival, barriers tumble down, truths come to the light, and an unbreakable bond is forged.
When reality returns, they have two choices, retreat into the darkness or remain in the light.
Review: Resurrection starts in the middle of the situation and you're not disappointed. Shyla Colt really conveyed the emotions of Vita. It was enough that you could almost feel her emotions. There were lots of questions about Vita that are given in time. The same applies to Prophet, especially his attitude.
We get certain scenes from Ira's point of view as well, and wow, that is definitely not good.
Resurrection combines two of my favorite genres, MC and Mob. It grabs your attention ,takes you on a roller coaster of emotion and I couldn't put it down!
~ About the Author ~
Shyla Colt grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, but has lived a variety of different places thanks to her wanderlust, interesting careers, and marriage to a United States Marine. She’s always loved books and wrote her very first novel at the age of fifteen. She keeps a copy of her first submission letter on her desk for inspiration.
After a lifetime of traveling, she settled down and knew her time had come to write. Diving into her new career like she does everything else, with enthusiasm, research and a lot of prayers, she had her first book published in June of 2011. As a full-time writer, stay at home mother, and wife, there’s never a dull moment in her household.
She weaves her tales in spare moments and the evenings with a cup of coffee or tea at her side and the characters in her head for company. A self-professed rebel with a pen. Her goal is to diversify romance as she continues to genre hop, and offer up strong female characters.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. Time crawls along like fog over the ground. I don’t usually drive, and where I’m headed gives me no comfort. Shifting in the driver’s seat of the pickup I curse my isolation.
This is for Ira, so buck the up.
The self-flagellation does nothing to calm my nerves, or lend courage. I’m not brave. It’s not a matter of opinion, it’s a fucking fact, long established. It’s the reason I’ve been holed up in my family’s farmhouse like a hermit, instead of out living life. My body shakes as my mind goes over the message from Cora that my brother is missing.
Missing? How does a man go off the grid while on club business?
The thought of losing my last connection to anything on this planet, shoves me closer to the insanity I narrowly escaped. Maybe this is like Final Destination. I dodged a bullet, and now it’s come back around to force me to my true fate. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My heart races. I battle the anxiety. I hate this. I loathe the woman I’ve become. There are two halves to me now. A fractured mirror put back together but never quite fixed. You can’t repair what’s shattered, not fully. I know that better than most. There’s Vita before the incident and Vita after.
The weakness turns my stomach. For once, my brother needs something from me. He deserves better than what I’m giving him right now. I don’t even know the full situation, and I’m a few seconds shy of flipping my lid. I owe him better.
He provided the cushion that let me heal and just be, after the culling of my family.