'Scandalous' by Tilly Bagshawde

In relation to my first post: I found the book and bought it ! :D


I started reading the book today and oh gosh! the opening is scandalous indeed ! I'm already at Chapter 4 and there has been one 'scandalous' revelation after another so far - no doubt why the book was entitled so.

Anyways the book sounds good, with a lot of detailed descriptions - you can easily picture what you're reading in your mind, like watching a movie in your head.

I'll keep on posting updates on the book and write a concluding review when I finish it, but from what I read so far it's a good one.

Until then here's the prologue of the book as a teaser of what you'll be getting into if you decide to go for it:

PROLOGUE
 
In a private screening room in Beverly Hills, a beautiful
woman stared intently at the man on the screen. Flicking a
switch, she allowed her luxurious red velvet chair to recline.
Languidly extending a hand dripping in Neil Lane diamonds,
she reached for the remote, freeze-framing the shot on the
man’s face. She smiled.
 
He was handsome, undoubtedly. Blond, blue-eyed, chiseljawed,
like every other television presenter in Los Angeles.
But this woman had her pick of handsome men. Handsome,
rich, powerful, she had had them all and grown bored of
them all. Last month, for the third year in a row, People
magazine had voted her ‘Sexiest Woman Alive’. It was the
sort of label that meant little to her, but everything to the
producers and directors who lined up to be the next piece
of man candy on her perfectly sculpted arm. Her looks had
made her famous, and they had made her rich. Men were
stupid.
 
But not this man. This man was different. He was an
intellectual. Some even called him a genius. She wondered
what he would be like in bed? How it would feel to sleep
with a man who, on one level at least, was her superior?
She found the concept thrilling, albeit rather difficult to
imagine.
Hitting play, she watched the man walk towards the
camera, talking about deep space and the cosmos and things
she did not understand in his divine English accent. Slipping
a hand beneath her cream silk La Perla negligée, she began
to touch herself, imagining him making love to her.
 
Theo! Oh Theo. Don’t stop.
 
As always when she pleasured herself, she came to orgasm
almost instantly. Yet another thing she did better than the
men in her life. Opening her eyes, she sighed. How inconvenient
that she’d only just got married again.
She would have to do something about that . . .
 



Three thousand miles away and some years later, in New
York, another wealthy, beautiful woman watched the same
man on the cinema-sized plasma television in the master
bedroom of her palatial Upper East Side apartment. Just as
she had watched him every night for the last five years.
 
Unlike his admirer in LA, this woman did understand what
Professor Theodore Dexter was saying. Listening to him
pontificate in the fake, fireside-chat voice she knew so well,
she thought, I hate you. Why are you still alive? Why aren’t you
suffering, the way you made me suffer, you treacherous son of a
bitch?
 
One day, she vowed, Theo Dexter would get what was
coming to him.
 
When that day came, she would show him no mercy.