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Monday, May 31, 2021

Book Review: Crush by Tracy Wolff





Crush (Crave #2) by Tracy Wolff
Genre: Young Adult (Paranormal Romance)
Date Published: September 29, 2020
Publisher: Entangled: Teen

Everything feels off—especially me. I’ve returned to Katmere Academy, but I’m haunted by fragments of days I have no recollection of living and struggling to understand who, or what, I really am.

Just when I start to feel safe again, Hudson is back with a vengeance. He insists there are secrets I don’t know about, threatening to drive a wedge between Jaxon and me forever. But far worse enemies are at our doorstep.

The Circle is caught in a power play and the Vampire Court is trying to drag me out of my world and into theirs. The only thing Hudson and Jaxon agree on is that leaving Katmere would mean my certain death.

And not only am I fighting for my life, but now everyone else’s is at stake—unless we can defeat an unspeakable evil. All I know is that saving the people I love is going to require sacrifice.

Maybe more than I’m able to give.


Crush is the second book in the Crave series by Tracy Wolff. I am soooo loving this series. I always worry about the 'book 2's', because most of the time they can't live up to the greatness of book one, but this one definitely does. I don't know if it's better per say, but it's definitely just as good. I'm completely hooked. I wasn't expecting a love triangle, but I have to say... I'm digging it. Team Hudson for this girl. Oh, and don't judge me or the book on that until you read it.

Woke Up Like This

Being the lone human in a school for paranormals is precarious at the best of times.

At the worst of times, it’s a little like being the last chew toy in a room full of rabid dogs.

And at average times…well, at average times, it’s honestly pretty cool.

Too bad today is most definitely not an average day.

I don’t know why, but everything feels a little off as I walk down the hall toward my Brit Lit class, the strap of my backpack clutched in my hand like a lifeline.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m freezing, my whole body trembling with a cold that has seeped all the way to my bones.

Maybe it’s the fact that the hand clutching my backpack is bruised and sore, like I got into a fight with a wall—and most definitely lost.

Or maybe it’s the fact that everyone, and I mean everyone, is staring at me—and it’s not in that “best of times” kind of way.

Then again, when is it ever?

You’d think I’d have gotten used to the staring by now, since it kind of comes with the territory when you’re a vampire prince’s girlfriend. But nope. And definitely not okay when every vampire, witch, dragon, and werewolf in the place is stopping to stare at you with their eyes wide and their mouths gaping even wider—like today.

Which, to be honest, really isn’t a very good look for any of them. I mean, come on. Aren’t I supposed to be the one weirded out in this equation? They’ve known all along that humans exist. It’s only been about a week since I found out the monster in my closet is real. As are the ones in my dorm room, my classes…and sometimes in my arms. So shouldn’t I be the one walking around with my mouth wide open as I stare at them?

“Grace?” I recognize the voice and turn with a smile, only to find Mekhi gawking at me, his normally warm brown complexion more waxy than I’ve ever seen it.

“Hey, there you are.” I shoot him a grin. “I thought I was going to have to read Hamlet all by myself today.”

“Hamlet?” His voice is hoarse, and the hands that fumble the phone out of his front pocket are anything but steady.

“Yeah, Hamlet. The play we’ve been reading for Brit Lit since I got here?” I shuffle my feet a little, suddenly uncomfortable as he continues to stare at me like he’s seen a ghost…or worse. This definitely isn’t typical Mekhi behavior. “We’re performing a scene today, remember?”

“We’re not rea—” He breaks off mid-word, thumbs flying over his phone as he sends what his face says is the most important text of his life.

“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping closer. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t look so good?” He barks out a laugh, shoves a trembling hand through his long, dark locks. “Grace, you’re—”

“Miss Foster?”

Mekhi breaks off as a voice I don’t recognize all but booms through the hallway.

“Are you all right?”

I shoot Mekhi a “what the fuck?” look as we both turn to find Mr. Badar, the Lunar Astronomy teacher, striding down the hall.

“I’m fine,” I answer, taking a startled step back. “I’m just trying to get to class before the bell rings.” I blink up at him when he stops directly in front of us. He’s looking a lot more freaked out than an early-morning hallway exchange warrants. Especially since all I’m doing is talking to a friend.

“We need to find your uncle,” he tells me as he places a hand under my elbow in an effort to turn me around and guide me back in the direction I just came from.

There’s something in his voice, less than a warning but more than a request, that gets me walking through the long, lancet-arched hallway without complaint. Well, that and because the normally unfazed Mekhi scrambles to get out of our way.

But with each step I take, the feeling that something isn’t right intensifies. Especially when people literally stop in their tracks to watch us go by, a reaction that only seems to make Mr. Badar more nervous.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” I ask as the crowd parts right in front of us. It’s not the first time I’ve seen the phenomenon—once again, I do date Jaxon Vega—but it is the first time I’ve seen it happen when my boyfriend is nowhere around. It’s beyond weird.

Mr. Badar looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, then asks, “You don’t know?” The fact that he sounds a little frantic, his deep voice taking on an incredulous edge, ratchets up my anxiety. Especially since it reminds me of the look on Mekhi’s face when he reached for his phone a couple of minutes ago.

It’s the same look I see on Cam’s face as we sweep by him standing in the doorway of one of the Chem classrooms. And Gwen’s. And Flint’s.

“Grace!” Flint calls to me, bounding out of the classroom so he can walk alongside Mr. Badar and me. “Oh my God, Grace! You’re back!”

“Not now, Mr. Montgomery,” the teacher snaps, his teeth clicking together sharply with each word.

So definitely a werewolf, then…at least judging by the size of that canine I see peeking from beneath his lip. Then again, I guess I should have figured it out by the subject he teaches—who’s more interested in the astronomy of the moon than the creatures who occasionally like to howl at it?

For the first time, I wonder if something happened this morning that I don’t know about. Did Jaxon and Cole, the alpha werewolf, get into it again? Or Jaxon and another wolf this time—maybe Quinn or Marc? It doesn’t seem likely, since everyone has been giving us a wide berth lately, but why else would a werewolf teacher I’ve never met before be so panicked and single-minded in his determination to get me to my uncle?

“Wait, Grace—” Flint reaches out for me, but Mr. Badar blocks his hand from connecting.

“I said not now, Flint! Go to class!” The words, little more than a snarl, come from low in his throat.

Flint looks like he wants to argue, his own teeth suddenly gleaming sharply in the soft chandelier lighting of the hallway. He must decide it’s not worth it—despite his clenched fists—because in the end, he doesn’t say anything. He just kind of stops in his tracks and watches us walk by instead…just like everyone else in the corridor.

Several people look like they want to approach—Macy’s friend Gwen, for example—but a low, warning growl from the teacher, who’s pretty much marching me down the hallway now, and the whole group of them decides to keep their distance.

“Hold on, Grace. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” I want to demand an answer, but my voice comes out sounding raspy.

“Your uncle’s office, of course. He’s been waiting on you for a long time.”

That makes no sense. I just saw Uncle Finn yesterday.

Unease slides across the back of my neck and down my spine, sharp as a razor, causing the hairs on my arms to tingle.

None of this feels okay.

None of this feels right.

As we turn another corner, this time into the tapestry-lined hallway that runs in front of Uncle Finn’s office, it’s my turn to reach into my pocket for my phone. I want to talk to Jaxon. He’ll tell me what’s going on.

I mean, this can’t all be about Cole, right? Or about Lia. Or about—I yelp as my thoughts crash into what feels like a giant wall. One that has huge metal barbs sticking out of it that poke directly into my head.

Even though the wall isn’t tangible, mentally running into it hurts an astonishing amount. For a moment, I just freeze, a little shell-shocked. Once I get over the surprise—and the pain—of it, I try even harder to move past the obstruction, straining my mind in an effort to get my thoughts together. To force them to go down this mental path that is suddenly completely closed off to me.

That’s when I realize—I can’t remember waking up this morning. I can’t remember breakfast. Or getting dressed. Or talking to Macy. I can’t remember anything that’s happened today at all.

“What the hell is going on?”

I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until the teacher answers, rather grimly, “I’m pretty sure Foster was hoping you could fill him in on that.”

It’s not the answer I’m looking for, and I reach into my pocket for my phone again, determined not to get distracted this time. I want Jaxon.

Except my phone isn’t in the pocket where I always keep it, and it isn’t in any of my other pockets, either. How is that possible? I never forget my phone.

Uneasiness moves into fear and fear into an insidious panic that has question after question bombarding me. I try to stay calm, try not to show the two dozen or so people watching me at this very instant just how rattled I really am. It’s hard to keep cool, though, when I don’t have a clue what’s going on.

Mr. Badar nudges my elbow to get moving again, and I follow him on autopilot.

We make one more turn and end up at the door leading into the front office of Katmere’s headmaster, also known as my uncle Finn. I expect Mr. Badar to knock, but he just throws the door open and propels us into the office’s antechamber, where Uncle Finn’s assistant is at her desk, typing away on her laptop.

“I’ll be right with you,” Mrs. Haversham says. “I just need one—”

She glances up at us—over the top of her computer screen and her purple half-moon glasses—and breaks off mid-sentence the second her gaze meets mine. All of a sudden, she’s jumping up from her desk, her chair clattering back against the wall behind her as she shouts for my uncle.

“Finn, come quick!” She circles out from behind her desk and throws her arms around me. “Grace, it’s so good to see you! I’m so glad you’re here!”

I have no idea what she means, just like I have no idea why she’s hugging me. I mean, Mrs. Haversham is a nice-enough lady, but I had no idea our relationship had progressed from formal greetings to spontaneous and apparently ecstatic embraces.

Still, I return the hug. I even pat her on her back—a little gingerly, but I figure it’s the thought that counts. On the plus side, her soft white curls smell like honey.

“It’s good to see you, too,” I respond as I start to ease back a little, hoping a five-second hug is all that’s necessary in this already bizarre situation.

But Mrs. Haversham is hanging on for the long haul, her arms wrapped around me so tightly that it’s growing a little hard to breathe. Not to mention awkward.

“Finn!” she shouts again, paying no attention to the fact that, thanks to the hug, her red-lipsticked mouth is right next to my ear. “Finn! It’s—”

The door to Uncle Finn’s office flies open. “Gladys, we have an intercom—” He, too, breaks off mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as they find my face.

“Hey, Uncle Finn.” I smile at him as Mrs. Haversham finally releases me from her honeysuckle-scented death grip. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

My uncle doesn’t answer. Instead, he just keeps staring at me, mouth working but absolutely no sound coming out.

And my stomach suddenly feels like it’s full of broken glass.I may not know what I had for breakfast, but I know one thing for sure… Something is very, very wrong.

Have you read the first book?

author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy Wolff is a lover of vampires, dragons, and all things that go bump in the night. A onetime English professor, she now devotes all her time to writing dark and romantic stories with tortured heroes and kick-butt heroines. She has written all her sixty-plus novels from her home in Austin, Texas, which she shares with her family.

To learn more about Tracy Wolff and her books, visit her website. You can also find her on GoodreadsFacebookInstagram, and Twitter.

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