Bleeding ​Violet (Portero Universe) 5 csillagozás

Dia Reeves: Bleeding Violet

Vigyázat! Cselekményleírást tartalmaz.

Love can be a dangerous thing….

Hanna simply wants to be loved. With a head plagued by hallucinations, a medicine cabinet full of pills, and a closet stuffed with frilly, violet dresses, Hanna's tired of being the outcast, the weird girl, the freak. So she runs away to Portero, Texas in search of a new home.

But Portero is a stranger town than Hanna expects. As she tries to make a place for herself, she discovers dark secrets that would terrify any normal soul. Good thing for Hanna, she's far from normal. As this crazy girl meets an even crazier town, only two things are certain: Anything can happen and no one is safe.

Tagok ajánlása: 14 éves kortól

Simon Pulse, 2010
454 oldal · keménytáblás · ISBN: 9781416986188

Kedvencelte 1

Most olvassa 3

Várólistára tette 24

Kívánságlistára tette 11

Kiemelt értékelések

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Dia Reeves: Bleeding Violet

Aki egy átlagos, romantikus, YA fantasyt akar, ne kezdjen bele. Horror, humor, mögöttes tartalom, reális karakterek, mentális betegség, nemi erőszak és öngyilkossági kísérletek sokasága jellemzi a könyvet. Teljesen magával ragad és lehetetlen letenni. IMÁDOM! Portero most már a kedvenc fiktív városom.

9 hozzászólás
Dia Reeves: Bleeding Violet

Bevallom, nem néztem utána a könyvnek, holott sokan ajánlották, de hát nekiálltam – és teljesen más lett, mint amilyenre számítottam. Amolyan, szokásos, rózsaszínnel kevert, kissé egysíkú valamire számítottam, ami talán néhol vontatott lesz…
Ehelyett egy pörgős kis könyvet kaptam, ami élet-szagúbb, mint az átlag.
A Bleeding Violet megragad, aztán úgy magához húz, hogy jó ideig nem ereszt el. Jó volt olvasni.

Népszerű idézetek

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Vigyázat! Felnőtt tartalom.

He looked as shocked as if I’d asked him to masturbate in front of me.

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Emotional abuse is just as bad as physical abuse. Worse! You can heal broken bones; you can’t heal a broken mind. Not easily.

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“Why’d you bite me?”
“Because I wanted to.” I pulled his hand away so I could see the mark I’d left on his skin. The tiny grooves of my teeth decorating his neck thrilled me. “Do you mind?”
He had to think about it a long time. “You a vampire or something?”
“Vampires are lame.” I unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. “Do you think I’m lame?”
“No,” he said quickly, rebuttoning his shirt. “But what’re you doing? Don’t undress me out here.”

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Since I couldn’t have her, I wanted at least to be surrounded by her essence, and Rosalee’s room was so uncomfortable and unwelcoming that it was exactly like being with her.

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“What’s this?”
“Blueberry soup.”
“What is it with you and purple?”
“Wyatt, focus,” I said, taking my seat.

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“She was doing her duty.”
“Duty schmuty. Plus, she was an idiot. Letting herself get pregnant.”
“She was in love!”
“She was bored. Don’t be such a romantic.”
“What’s wrong with romance? I don’t go to the movies for realism. I get plenty of that every day. And you got some nerve telling me not to be romantic. Look at you.”
Wyatt pulled me beneath an ornate streetlamp and spun me around by the hand like he was a cowboy and I the lasso. I laughed and laughed, my skirt whirling out in shameless ripples, dusty-winged moths dancing over our heads.
“Look at that petticoat,” he said. “You gotta be sorta romantic to even want a petticoat.”
“That’s not romance; that’s style.”


“Is that better? Are you happy? Can I stay now?”
“No it’s not better, no you’re not happy, or no I can’t stay?”
“All of the above.”

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“What were you saying no to?”
Rosalee glanced at the postcard but wouldn’t touch it. She settled herself against the window, her back to the lowering sky. “I don’t remember what question he asked: to marry him, to visit y’all, to love y’all. Maybe all three. No to all three.”

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"Poppa told me some things. He’d tell me how beautiful you were, but in the same breath, he’d curse you and say you were dead on the inside. So I’ve always thought of you that way—an undead Cinderella, greenish and corpselike, but wearing a ball gown. Do you even have a ball gown? I could make one for you. I make all my own clothes. I made this dress. Isn’t it sweet?” I stood so she could admire it. “I always feel like Alice when I wear it. That would make this Wonderland, wouldn’t it? And you the White Rabbit—always out of reach.”

Rémálom P>!

“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“It’s beyond weird,” I assured him breathlessly. “Beyond cool, even.”
“Only another weirdo would think that was cool.”
“Bullshit. What’s weird about you?” He looked me over. “Besides your fixation with purple.”

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