Wild Eyes by Elsie Silver
- Alisha Eadle
- 3 hours ago
- 11 min read
Wild Eyes
by Elsie Silver
Published by Bloom
Book 2 in the Rose Hill Series
A rugged mountain town seemed like the perfect escape from a life in shambles.
But on day one I ran full tilt into the world’s hottest single dad and now all my plans are ruined.
As a chart-topping country singer with a recent streak of bad press it’s hard to find any peace. But I find it in Rose Hill. With a little boy and a little girl who steal my heart just as thoroughly as their dad.
Weston Belmont.
The man is a shameless flirt. He oozes confidence and masculinity in a way that’s downright distracting. And in bed? He’s addictive.
Everything with him is wild and impulsive and I’m desperate to regain some control.
But no one has supported me like West does. And no one has ever made me feel as loved as he does either.
So, while my brain says settling down with a small-town horse trainer is impossible… my heart says I’m right where I belong.
Still, my life as a celebrity haunts me. It has the power to pull us apart.
I can see in his eyes that wants me to stay. And I want that too.
But I know better than anyone that we don’t always get what we want.
Genre
Triggers
Controlling Parents (they manage character's career), Parents/Managers stealing money from their child
Okay, Elise Silver is killing it so far with this series, because I loved Wild Eyes as much as I loved Wild Love.
Hell, maybe even a little bit more.
I loved the story. The characters, and their arcs throughout the book. I loved their romance.
I literally have not one complaint about this book.
Well, except for a scene that involved spitting.
Ick.
Honestly, Elsie has a formula to her books that works, because the same things I loved about her other books, is what I love about this book.
Witty, fun characters with a chip on their shoulder, take on a task that brings them closer together.
Add in the sexy tension and the fun back and forth banter and you got a hit.
It's also the setting that gets to me. Most romance books - even ones written by Canadian authors - are set in the states. Elsie setting these stories here in Canada give them an extra bit of magic for me.
I just relate to the characters even more, which I love. I want to connect with the characters I'm reading.
One of the things I appreciated the most about this book was how it really centered on Skylar's arc, a woman who has been lied to, and controlled her entire life, and learning to stand up for herself. Working on the art she wants to put into the world, and finally taking control of her life.
I loved how Weston healed the part of her that was broken by just being himself, and being a good father. Showing her what it really means to be family.
Seriously, if you haven't read this series yet, do it! I so far have no regrets. And it's now a finished series, so you can read all four books one after the other.
Skylar: “What?”
she asks, arms held wide, like she’s not standing with her back to an unpredictable apex predator.
Skylar: “I’m going to have to rerecord this for my socials now.”
Weston: “That’s a goddamn grizzly bear. You need to get back in your car,”
I hiss, hiking a thumb over my shoulder toward her car.
She shakes her head and continues glaring.
Skylar: “You know what I’m fucking sick of?”
Weston: “Is it living?”
I bite out as instinct takes over and I step out of my truck. As much as I’d like to slam the door, I leave it open to avoid making more noise.
Weston: “Because that’s what it looks like right now.”
Weston: “Listen, I get it. There aren’t bears in the city. It’s an experience. But that”
—I point at the bear—
Weston: “is not Winnie the Pooh.”
Her expression is strained as she glances longingly back at the ditch. It’s as though she sees my logic but so badly wishes she didn’t. I keep going because it seems like the children’s fiction reference really hit home.
Weston: “Eeyore isn’t trapped in a well. Piglet isn’t off finding him a pot of honey. Just…pretend I’m Owl, and I’m giving you really wise advice right now.”
Skylar: “It was all going great until you showed up acting like fucking Crocodile Dundee crossed with…with…”
She waves a hand over me as she struggles to find the right insult.
Skylar: “With Superman or something.”
I lift a hand and scrub it over my chin.
Weston: “It’s the strong jawline, isn’t it?”
Skylar: “No, it’s the obnoxious hero complex.”
Skylar: “You know what? I’m sorry. I’m having a bad month. You don’t deserve this shit. I’ve put you through enough today. Thank you for being willing to die for me. That’s new and unexpected and something I’ll have to process with my therapist at a later date.”
Weston: “Weston Belmont. Rose Hill’s very own Super-Crocodile-Dundee-Man at your service,”
I reply with a dramatic salute.
A smarter girl would be captivated by his bravery, or his deep voice, or his quippy one-liners. Not me. I’m following him down a backcountry road in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, daydreaming about his big fucking hands. I make a mental note to follow up with my therapist about this too. I have to be diagnosable. It has to be a coping mechanism of some sort. Do daddy issues give you a hand kink?
It’s funny how I can be surrounded by so many people who profess to love me and still feel so utterly alone.
I scoff, not wanting him to be too hard on his little sister.
Weston: “Ollie, I’m not gonna let her ruin this. But your sister’s got a lot more charm than you think. That girl could sell a hamburger to a vegan.”
He quirks a brow at me.
Ollie: “Are you done being wise now? Can you please go save Skylar from Emmy?”
I point my tongs at him.
Weston: “Mouthy little shit.”
Then I oblige him. I place the utensil down and jog toward the house, hearing my son mumble to my back,
Ollie: “More like she’d hold a vegan down and force-feed them a burger.”
In fact, the entire thing ended in laughter as West carried me out into the yard and acted as though he’d just rescued me from a burning building. He’ll never know, but in that moment, he healed me. Just a little bit.
Instead, I’m a bundle of anxiety, riddled by second-guessing. I’m a woman driven by a bone-deep, simmering anger, who predicts disappointment at every turn. I’m fucking Eeyore but make him famous. Saggy shoulders but never forgetting to put that bow on his tail.
Emmy: “My dad always tells me that no means to try harder. So, if I say, ‘Dad, can I have a freezie?’ and he says, ‘No,’ I just try harder. I’m working on a pony now. He keeps saying no, but I’m not giving up.”
I can’t help but laugh. She really is a spitfire.
Skylar: “Does it work?”
Her head wobbles back and forth and a troublemaking little smirk touches her lips.
Emmy: “Sometimes. And sometimes I sneak a freezie and don’t tell him about it. But the times it works make all the other times worth it.”
Weston: “You done gawking? Or should I flex while I wait for you to pull that phone out and take my number?”
I start. And then I turn red. God, I’m embarrassing.
Skylar: “Yeah, sorry. I lost my train of thought there for a second.”
Now it’s his turn to bite down on his bottom lip, his cheeks pinching up in a knowing smirk.
Weston: “Yeah, that train was a runaway all right.”
Weston: “Skylar Stone, are you checking out my ass?”
I lick my lips quickly. Are we flirting? It feels like we’re flirting. And I don’t have the good sense to put a stop to it.
Skylar: “No. It’s your thighs.”
He peers down at where his muscular thighs do indeed fill out his jeans.
Weston: “What about my thighs?”
I hold my hands up and make a squeezing motion with both.
Skylar: “They’re meaty.”
Now his jaw truly drops open. I might have caught him off guard with that one.
Weston: “Did you just motion squeezing my thighs?”
I shrug and twirl a piece of my hair around my finger as I search for something interesting to stare at.
Skylar: “More of a grope. And don’t judge me. City boys don’t have thighs like that.”
He barks out a laugh now, propping those distracting hands on his hips.
Weston: “No, I suppose not. City boys don’t spend all day riding horses. I don’t believe you weren’t checking out my ass, though. I have a great ass.”
Weston: “Real good, Doris. How about you?”
Doris: “Knees are sore. Otherwise, can’t complain. Got a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a husband with a big dick.”
Skylar makes a shocked choking noise from across the table right as I bark out a laugh. Good ol’ Doris. She never misses.
Doris: “On that note, what can I get ya?”
Skylar: “I need to channel her energy. Find my inner Doris.”
Weston: “Okay, well, you’ve got a roof over your head at the bunkhouse. I’m about to buy you a plate of wings. And I have a big dick, but I can’t marry you.”
She smirks at me, and just when I think she’s gonna give me hell about the bunkhouse barely constituting a roof, she surprises me by asking,
Skylar: “How big?”
Skylar: “I’m starting to understand why Britney shaved her head,”
I blurt out in a tearful voice.
Skylar: “Being treated like you’re just an object for people to behold is fucking demoralizing.”
Weston: “No, fancy face. Those”
—he points at my face, finger flicking from side to side—
Weston: “are wild eyes. The eyes of a woman who just chose fight over flight. Don’t smother that. Keep ‘em and you’ll come out on top. Trust me.”
Weston: “Hey, can you send me Skylar’s email?”
Ford’s gruff voice filters back through my receiver.
Ford: “Why? Doesn’t she live within spitting distance of you? Ask her yourself.”
Weston: “I want it to be a surprise.”
Ford: “This may come as a shock to you, but women don’t actually like surprise dick pics.”
Skylar: “His name is Scotty. He just surprised me. Pretend you don’t know about him. If you set a trap, I will never forgive you.”
Weston: “You and my sister want me to pretend I don’t know there is a mouse named Scotty living in my bunkhouse?”
Skylar: “Yes. I like her, and I won’t let you kill her mouse. Walk away and pretend this never happened.”
Weston: “You’re talking an awfully big game for someone who’s hiding on the counter to stay safe.”
Ford: “What are you doing here?”
Ford saunters through the swinging gate, staring daggers at Rosie. She grins maniacally.
Rosie: “Came to cheer you on.”
Ford doesn’t take the bait. In fact, he continues scowling at her.
Ford: “You’re not dressed like a cheerleader.”
She shrugs.
Rosie: “I could be later.”
Weston: “No. Please, god, no.”
West has his hands over his face, laughing.
Weston: “I am so happy for you guys, but please do not have these conversations in front of me.”
Weston: “Do you like them?”
My eyes flick to him.
Skylar: “What?”
Weston: “Your boobs.”
He swallows audibly.
Weston: “Forget about everyone else. Do they make you happy? Do they make you feel good?”
I look back down at my breasts, considering his question. A slow smile curves across my lips.
Skylar: “I fucking love them.”
West barks out a laugh from his bench, a short distance from me. We sit facing each other, but his bare foot pushes forward, almost toe to toe with mine. He’s rolled his jeans up, and his feet are big.
Weston: “Then who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks, Skylar? Who cares if anyone finds out? You love them. They make you happy. No shame in that.”
Skylar: “What about you?”
Weston: “I mean, listen, I’m not gonna lie. They make me pretty happy too.”
Weston: “Well, I’ve been here to see you try to pet a bear. I’ve seen you with a bruised face. I’ve seen you get anxious. And Skylar? I like all those versions of you. You have me. You’ll always be relevant to me.”
He calls to me the same way I call to him. Desperately. Thoroughly. Without even meaning to.
Weston: “If I told you all the things I’ve dreamed about doing to this mouth, you’d turn the prettiest shade of pink.”
I nip at the lower line of his jaw and grind down on his cock.
Skylar: “Then you better tell me in broad daylight, so you can be sure I do.”
Cora: “These are all boring, sappy love songs.”
Ford shrugs.
Ford: “People like love songs.”
She turns to me.
Cora: “Are love songs what you want to sing?”
I blink a few times, searching her petite face.
Skylar: “I…I don’t know. I’m in a period of discovery, I guess.”
Cora sighs down at the discarded pages.
Cora: “What you need are fuck you songs. Songs that hurt. No more Auto-Tune. Your voice is sweet enough already. You could tell someone to go die, and they’d say thank you.”
Skylar: “You think I’m going to stab a bear?”
She rolls her eyes like my aversion to violence is childish.
Weston: “I’ll teach you how. You go for the eyes or mouth.”
Skylar: “I don’t think I’m equipped to fight off a bear. I’d just let him eat me.”
Weston: “Skylar, that’s quitter talk.
Skylar: “West…I thought we were taking a breather.”
Weston: “Right, but the week is almost up.”
I drop my lips closer to hers, watching her eyes heat as I do.
Weston: “Then this fucking breather is over. You can go ahead and breathe through your nose because this mouth will be busy.”
She flushes, teeth pressing down on her lip.
Skylar: “That’s not really what I meant by a breather.”
Weston: “Breathing is overrated. I’d rather be drowning in you.”
Weston: “They’re in my way.”
I yank again and the delicate fabric rips.
Skylar: “Those were expensive,”
she hisses, nails digging into my shoulder, temper flaring as I toss the expensive scraps onto the dirt and rocks at my feet. I pull her to the edge of the hood and press my palm to her sternum, pushing her back so she lands on her elbows. Not a single thread of resistance in her body, mad as she might be.
Weston: “Then stop wasting your money on them, fancy face. They only get in my way.”
Weston: “How many times should I make you come today? Tell me.”
Her eyes snap to mine, body rocking gently against the hood of the truck.
Skylar: “Sometimes I’m slow. Like, it can take a while. So don’t worry if I don’t—”
Weston: “Oh, fuck yeah.”
I grin, adding my thumb to her clit.
Weston: “I love a challenge.”
Mom: “Just wanted to check in on you.”
Dad: “She’s snoopin’,”
Andy calls out, scowling at his wife.
Mom: “I am not.”
She spins on him.
Mom: “People were talking after the fair yesterday, and I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Dad: “Woman, we pulled up to underwear and a condom on the driveway. We both knew he was just fine.
Skylar: “Of course. I’ll go back to my room so you can get in.”
West stirs and throws an arm over me as I lift the covers.
Emmy: “Oh, no.”
Emmy’s small hand lands on my forearm.
Emmy: “You probably had a bad dream too. You should stay.”
Then she crawls up onto the bed, rolling herself over my body to wedge herself between West and me.
Skylar: “I had a bad dream?”
I whisper as she hunkers down.
Emmy: “Yeah. You had a bad dream and came to my dad. He’s the best at making you feel all warm and happy inside.”
West’s deep chuckle rumbles across the sheets, and I can hear the smile in it. And Emmy is right. I feel warm and happy inside.
Weston: “Go to sleep, girls. No bad dreams allowed here,”
West rasps sleepily as he edges back to make more room.
Weston: “Working on something? Does this mean you’re finally going to tell us something about yourself? Because right now, I’m pretty sure you’re a secret porn star.”
Rhys’s cheek twitches, and he huffs out a dry laugh.
Rhys: “I am not a porn star. Though I am flattered by the guess.”
Bash: “I thought he was a porn star too,”
Bash says as he ties his shoes.
Skylar: “God.”
My eyes flutter shut.
Skylar: “Yes. Again.”
Weston: “Again? I’m trying to be gentle.”
My eyes flash to his.
Skylar: “You have been. Now fuck me.”
Weston: “Skylar.”
I can hear the warning tone in West’s voice and it just makes me smile.
Weston: “That goose is not your friend.”
Skylar: “Then why is he friend-shaped?”
