Review // Repeat by Kylie Scott

People in general fascinate me. Yet Ed takes it to a whole new level.
I don’t know if it’s the knowledge that we have history or just his hotness.
Truth is, I could watch him for hours.
No, days.

──────　♔　──────

Repeat by Kylie Scott

Standalone - Larsen Bros #1
Release - April 7, 2019
Genre - Contemporary Romance / amnesiac / second chance
Single POV - heroine 1st person
Heat Level - slow build / a few descriptive scenes
Format/Source - ebook borrowed through Kindle Unlimited
Length - 310 pages
Publisher - Indie

Goodreads * Amazon

When a vicious attack leaves 25-year-old Clementine Johns with no memory, she's forced to start over. Now she has to figure out who she was and why she made the choices she did - which includes leaving the supposed love of her life, tattoo artist Ed Larsen, only a month before.

Ed can hardly believe it when his ex shows up at his tattoo parlor with no memory of their past, asking about the breakup that nearly destroyed him. The last thing he needs is more heartache, but he can't seem to let her go again. Should they walk away for good, or does their love deserve a repeat performance?

My Two Cents

3 "Where do we go from here?" stars

I'll admit, like I always do, that I'm a sucker for a second chance at love story. So when Repeat was released and I was privy to all of its wonderful reviews, I knew I had to read it. And almost 3 years later, here we are!

So Clem ended her relationship with Ed and devastated them both. A month later, she was viciously attacked and has no memory of people, places, and most things. In order to learn more about her past self, she goes to the one person she should leave alone... Ed.

He makes me happy. He makes me feel wonderful things. From all of the heat of desire and warmth of affection through to the way he fills the empty places inside of me and feeding my curiosity with thoughts and words and experiences.

Now see Ed, he's the one left behind. All he knows is that the woman he loved decided one day that he wasn't the man she knew and left him. He's the one who has had to pick up the pieces of his life. And in waltzes Clem, who remembers nothing, feels nothing. What's a man to do?

I really liked the way this was written. Clem's journey of finding herself was enlightening and entertaining. However, I would have loved to get Ed's perspective of things. He went through a lot and continued to go through a lot and I wanted to see inside of his heart.

How previous me ever left him is beyond me. I honestly feel a little bad for the girl. No wonder she was apparently so heartbroken. To lose Ed in all his wondrousness would be a terrible thing.

The suspenseful elements were ridiculous and I didn't like how so much time was spent on them, and yet the resolution to it all was so lackluster. It definitely could have been better.

Second chances, old and now new friendships, and learning how to love again. That's what this story has to offer and I think you'll enjoy it too!

Excerpt

“Amnesia,” he mutters for about the hundredth time. Usually, ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, or some blasphemy follows that statement. This time, however, there’s nothing. Maybe he’s finally getting used to the idea. I sit on the opposite side of the booth, inspecting the cocktail menu. It’s as gross and sticky as the table.“Can I get you guys something else?” asks the waiter with a practiced smile.

“I’ll have a piña colada.”

“You hate coconut,” Ed Larsen informs me, slumped back in his seat.

“Oh.”

“Try a margarita.”

“What he said,” I tell the waiter, who presumably thinks we have some kinky dom-sub thing going on.

Ed orders another lite beer, watching me the entire time. I don’t know if his blatant examination is better or worse than my sister’s furtive looks. He’d suggested going back to his place to talk. I declined. I don’t know the guy, and it didn’t feel safe. So instead we came here. The bar is dark and mostly empty, given it’s the middle of the afternoon, but at least it’s public.

“How old are you?” I ask.

In response, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and passes me his driver’s license.

“Thank you.” Information is good. More definites. “You’re seven years older than me.”

“Yeah.”

“How serious were we? Did we stay together for long?”

He licks his lips, turns away. “Don’t you have someone else you can ask about all this? Your sister?”

I just look at him.

He frowns, but then sighs. “We saw each other for about half a year before moving in together. That lasted eight months.”

“Pretty serious.”

“If you say so.” His face isn’t happy. But I need to know.

“Did I cheat on you?”

Now the frown comes with a glare.

Despite his don’t-fuck-with-me vibes, it’s hard not to smile. The man is blessed in the DNA department. He’s so pretty. Masculine pretty. I’m not used to being attracted to people, and he’s giving me a heart-beating-harder, tingles-in-the-pants kind of sensation, which is a lot new and a little overwhelming. Makes me want to giggle and flip my hair at him like some vapid idiot.

But I don’t. “It’s just that I’m getting some distinct vibes that somehow I’m the bad guy in all this.”

“No, you didn’t cheat on me,” he growls. “And I didn’t cheat on you either, no matter what you might have thought.”

My brows jump. “Huh. So that’s why we broke up?”

“This is fucked. Actually, it was fucked the first time.” He turns away and finishes the last of his beer. “Jesus.”

I just keep quiet, waiting.

“You have no memories, no feelings about me whatsoever?”

“No, nothing.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw, his hands sitting fisted on the table.

“It’s called traumatic retrograde amnesia,” I say, trying to explain. “What they call my ‘episodic memory’ is gone—all my memories of events and people and history. Personal facts. But I can still make a cup of coffee, read a book, or drive a car. Stuff like that. Things that were done repetitively, you know? Not that I’m allowed to drive at the moment. My car’s sitting outside my sister’s house gathering dust. They said to give it some time before I got behind the wheel again, make sure I’m okay. Also, apparently the part of my brain in charge of inhibitions and social restrictors, et cetera, is a bit messed up, so I don’t always react right, or at least not necessarily how you’d expect me to behave based on previous me.”

“Previous you?”

I shrug. “It’s as good a label for her as any.”

“She’s you. You’re her.”

“Maybe. But she’s still a complete stranger to me.”

“Christ,” he mutters.

This is awkward. “I’m upsetting you. I’m sorry. But there are things I need to know, and I’m hoping you can help me out with some of them.”

About the Author

Kylie Scott is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013 & 2014, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

You can learn more about Kylie from http://www.kyliescott.com/

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