by Victoria A. Young
Passion Whispers tells the story of Yashani, an irresistibly sexy heroin addict who craves domestic bliss with her husband, smoking hot Ivy Flint, NY Senator and man about town. He craves the same, but Yashani harbors some secrets from her past and Ivy is tired of playing the game. When his wife disappears for four days, his meandering search to find her, leads him to file for a divorce. While waiting for his wife to sign the petition to get a calendar date, she refuses, dropping him into chaos: An older woman having several personalities who escaped jail and the asylum.
He sleeps with one of the several personalities housed in a sizzling female body, waking all of them to come after him in a variety of hilarious, sex-fraught and dangerous scenes, spiraling the story’s twists to a breathtaking thriller. Each of these personalities is uniquely and finely drawn, and brought to life with brilliantly written dialogue, creating a truly different take on the stalker persona.
In the meantime, Yashani’s vengeful exploits against Nathan, the head of the heroin syndicate still haunts her after the death of her sister, her ex, who ran for the Governor in San Francisco, taking her to New York, San Francisco, Paris and Tblisi. Woven throughout the ins and outs of the troubled couple’s travels are sex scenes that pop the buttons right off your clothes in their eroticism, that are edged with longing and desire that makes you wonder, will Yashani clear her head of the opium fog and finish Nathan? Will Ivy ever escape from his many-personalities fatal attraction?
Will Yashani and Ivy get back together and settle down—forget that—will they ever finish what they achingly tease each other with, in the bedroom—will Yashani finally let Ivy do those things to her that they both desperately need him to do?
Passion is a story of cultural interest, personal love and loss, and, seriously, teasingly, drive-you-crazy hot sex. The characters are funky, unique, and real. It’s also a compelling blend of intrigue, action, and romance that explores such psychological and cultural themes as distrust, addiction, wealth, politics, forgiveness and chauvinism, all disguised as pure, raucous titillating entertainment.
Book Reviews: Book 1: Tease Me!
Passion Whispers an Execution: Book 1: Tease Me! by Victoria Young is a psychological erotic thriller. Senator Flint is looking for his wife. He is full of charm and captivates everyone, especially the ladies, with his personality. While he loves his wife very much, he can’t seem to stop himself from becoming sidetracked by Poisette. A very sexy woman, she has a dangerous past and a scary motive for wanting the senator. When he succumbs to her charms, he finds out that she has several personalities, all of them depraved. One wants to connect to him spiritually while another wants multiple orgasms and will stop at nothing to get them. Visiting her at her home, he finds yet another personality. One who threatens him that he has just 2 weeks to get her pregnant or escape before she reveals her true nature, the one that pities no one, not the senator, nor his wife. Where will the hell end for the senator? Where is his wife? And just what does Poisette want from him?
Passion Whispers an Execution: Book 1 was a thriller all the way. Erotic and passionate, the story was full of thrilling twists and turns that left me a little breathless trying to keep up. The story is part erotic romance and part thriller, with organized crime, drug lords and thugs woven in with tales of erotic suspense. This is a deeply passionate book, one that will have you turning the pages, desperate to see where the story is going next. It was fast paced, well thought out and well written, and I would recommend it for anyone who wants a good read on holiday. Can’t wait for the next one.
5 star Review Written by Laura
Passion Whispers has surprising depth for a romance/thriller novel. The characters are funky, unique and real. The dialogue is genius. And don’t get me started on the sex! An entertaining read, Passion is also a compelling blend of intrigue and romance that explores such psychological and cultural themes as addiction, wealth, politics and chauvinism.
5 star Review Written by Nycole Lee
Victoria Young brings us a masterpiece filled with love, lust, and intrigue that would look spectacular on the big screen as a movie, or as a riveting TV show. Her writing style is poetic and packed with passion. The characters, Yashani, Ivy, and Poisette take the story on a multi-layered thrill ride that will keep the reader engrossed from the very first line.
Yashani, a woman whose demeanor screams sensuality is much like that of a female James Bond. You have no idea what her skills are, or what she is capable of, but you enjoy every moment of her piece in this story.
Senator Ivy Flint, bent on finding his missing wife, has a personality and charm that seems to captivate all of the ladies. He loves his wife, and yet his attentions are diverted by none other than the infamous Poisette. Sexy and enchanting, she is a woman with a dangerous past, and an even more frightening motive.
The combination of these characters takes us around the world, where thugs and organized crime surface, secrets are unveiled, and love is tested by lust. Even the supporting characters contribute to the greater picture in their own way, with interesting backgrounds, and motives of their own.
Indeed there is passion in this book, with erotic scenes that reveal the inner sexuality of the characters, as well as stimulate the mind when you delve deeper into the character’s psyche. Passion Whispers an Execution is one that will keeps readers on the edge of their seat from beginning to end.
Excerpt: Passion Whispers an Execution: Book 1 – Tease Me!
My scream smashed the ceiling. Distorted by blood, my passion harbored murder. I’ll poison him, slash his throat, and then shove him in a body bag, positioning him out of his misery, right now. My husband would never understand the degree I’d have to go to kill him. What more would they do to me? Life in prison or the death penalty? Someone will shed false concern and they’ll throw me in the crazy house. Far along, they’d find out I’m a basket worse than any case.
A late summer day, I stood in line at a Whole Foods in San Francisco, absorbing a tall woman in front fiddling her holy pendant. She wore white shorts and a white halter-top. Murdering him didn’t grow stale the more I gazed at her whites, showing blood. Blood attacked my russet arms. I dropped my handcart of groceries and dashed to the bathroom. The faster I wiped the blood off, the faster more invaded. “Blood, blood, get off,” I couldn’t help but yell.
At a nearby sink, a pleasantly plump woman’s eyes widened when she said, “There’s no blood.”
She didn’t understand that the blood is there and sometimes gone. I didn’t want her to tell me another lie, like how; now, blood trapped my dark tangerine dress. I tightened my headscarf and sped out of the market fast as I could.
The sun’s rays followed for about a quarter of a mile southeast of Sutay, falling to rest on California’s paths and poppy fields. The condition of the air had gone stale. High-grade heroin controlled by a string of drug slingers infected the town. No mystery they didn’t care for crumbled homes. Sutay endured a wicked match compared to the prominent waterfronts and sweet lords who left their widows festering. Passion for control had grown in Paris, San Francisco, and New York for more than ten years. The scandalous vied for control in Yenitch, an unknown city below San Francisco’s grounds. Yenitch had it all. Power, wealth, and hijacking women’s worth. Unable to position the thunderous tune to rest, something hustled me. Gasps escaped. Run, Yashani. Run fast as you can. Whistling breezes rippled through willows. I landed in the back of Governor Giannelli’s aged colonial, squinting side to side, up and about the willows and junipers until I no longer saw the sun above the trees. Dark, ragged cloudlets gazed over his gloomy house. When I dug in the ground, I lost it all and kept digging deeper and deeper. Dirt flew everywhere. My five-foot-six feline body fell over, my dark hair hung in a long, graceful mess while my raging breath knew nothing about calm until a hand tapped my shoulder.
His slippers caught the dirt I had shoved. Though his greeting prompted a strong suggestion of reproach, his Italian accent was accepting. It broke my trance, my sinking arrangement, and my dearest as I tried lifting her out of the ground.
“Yashani, this is heavier than the freedom of truth,” he said.
“You have a hard time seeing what’s dear to me,” I replied.
“I’m aware how much you love your sister.”
“Which doesn’t ease how a man never understands a woman.”
“It’s getting late. Ready to give me my meds?”
When I looked up past his paisley pajamas, Giannelli’s eyes brewed concern, and his salt and pepper hair glistened. He brought me up from the ground into his snowy chest for two minutes, near the cushion wrapped around his body, embracing my disturbing memories. My breathing slowed. We paced to his porch. Huddling in his arms eased a bit.
We entered his run-down colonial filled with old-fashioned furniture. He wouldn’t get a maid, fearing she’d be too much in his business, finding out he had something to do with the Edirp scandal. Frequently, he moped; regretting how Nathan blackmailed him, then involved him in the scandal.
His wife had fled to Vegas, feeding her gambling addiction, leaving his house in disarray. Not that she cleaned up when she was around, but when she visited him once every two months, she cared even less for their marriage. She hated me to the point of spreading rumors that I’d murdered Brad. Little did she know there was more meat to the Edirp scandal than what she thought. Blood, sweat and sweet payback would soon tell it all.
As he led me through the darkened room, he tripped over a box and lost his balance.
I had to help him up. His overbearing weight might be the reason his wife doesn’t appreciate him any longer. “Sit right here. And where are your meds?”
“Under my mattress.”
I gave him his meds, washed his dishes, sanitized the house, then fed him. He’s paralyzed on one side and able to wash himself. If I had to wash him, it’d ruin our ten-year friendship, or he’d want me in a sexual upheaval. Though he wasn’t hard on the eyes, I wouldn’t be able to comply. At this stage of anticipated murder, I relied on his service. Before his age-related illness took over, he was my enemy’s number one comrade. Just a matter of time before Giannelli streamlined his overseas chums for ricin, my enemy, and his hooligans would share my wrath.
I said, “Appreciate your concern for my sanity where others think I’m irrational.”
He replied, “Because I’m confident when you get tired—”
“I’m already there.”
“You’ll take care of business.”
“If Nathan or my sister don’t kill me first.”
For about an hour, we planned my strategy for avenging Nathan’s empire.
He drew from under his chair a camera. “Your ruling passion for justice will never be destroyed.”
( Continued… )
© 2016 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Victoria A. Young. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.
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Meet Victoria A. Young
Winning an essay contest for Fannie Mae landed me on Good Morning America, spring 2000 under the maiden name: Victoria A. Martin. My appearance encouraged and brought to fruition that my writing can move people. I developed a passion for writing inspiring themes whether it’s in poetry, plays, screenplays, or novels. Presenting my characters with challenging situations and allowing their emotions to guide me give me the greatest pleasure with writing. I’ve written and produced three 2 hour plays and three short plays affording me the opportunity to refine my skills on my first novel trilogy: Passion Whispers an Execution.
I developed the love for the arts at the age of thirteen when I had a report due one Monday. I ran the streets with my friends disregarding report. Aware that my parents were going to scold me if I didn’t have the report completed, I stood home one Sunday ignoring all calls. And read a book in one day: Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun. The report took me about three hours to complete. From that point, I fell in love with poetry and how words can tell a beautiful story.
My writing has been compared to Quentin Tarantino with a classic flair, emotional and provocative. I believe in writing oh my God stories, which close out with a bang and bring a joyous spirit to the human experience.
When I’m not sitting in my office scrambling my brain for flawed characterization, I enjoy reading, producing fashion shows, designing fashions, traveling, using my creativity for church functions, and choreographing praise dancing. Dancing has been incorporated in all my plays as well as my first novel. I’ve danced ballet, jazz, African, and contemporary from the age of thirteen. I was truly blessed to have my dancers perform for Congressman Charlie Rangel. They were also given the opportunity to perform at all-paid-expense trips traveling out of New York State for church retreats. Today my dancers are in college and some took on the role of motherhood. I give thanks to God for keeping them.
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