MANIK by Amo Jones
I’m Beatrice Kennedy, but everyone calls me Beat. I live a low-key life, fresh out of college and drifting from town to town until I find my home.
I love music, and how it stirs even the deepest and untouched parts of your soul. Depending on what you choose to listen to, would depend on what it touches. It’s the drug we all damper in, only different strains. My strain is Jazz. The smooth instrumental strums that take over me. The sound of cigar smoke, bourbon and an old dusty fedora hat. My strain wasn’t rap, and it sure wasn’t laced with some A-class shit like murky blue eyes casted down from the Lord and the Devil’s handcrafted smile. I knew who he was—the whole world did. One fateful night set off a chain of events, events that no one was coming back from. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. You can’t pull them up from the ocean when they’ve latched themselves to an anchor. Love was my anchor, destruction was the water that was drowning me, and the rope that was so tightly clamped around my ankles, was woven with the lyrics of Aeron Romanov-Reed, also known as, Manik. He steals hearts from all around the world, but one night, he stole something that wasn’t his to steal.
*this is a full length standalone.
Stockholm Syndrome. You’ve heard of it, right? If it bothers you… (not that I think anyone ENJOYS the concept), but don’t pick up if dark, Stockholmish-type, gritty romance is going to trigger you.
Manik is right up there with The Silver Swan in my faves by Amo Jones, but I’m thinking Manik may have taken top spot in the Amo Pedestal.
The book and characters are fucked up and definitely not the norm - which is to be expected coming out of Amo. But trust me, you will not find any of these characters as your next door neighbor. If you do… well, call me, I’m coming over.
And honestly, I had no idea Eminem was in the mafia.
The plot is twisty and a mind game… not sure more so for me or for the characters. At the end of the book, I’m still unsure if I love or hate Manik. The character, not the book. What a mix. What a contradiction.
But while this isn’t grandma’s book while sipping on her tea and eating cookies, this book sheds light on the dark corners of my brain… and I like that. Sorry Grandma.