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Review on

Girl Trade

By Chloe Thurlow

Girl Trade
Paperback, 240 pages paperback Online Price:
ISBN: 9781907016417
Format: 198mm x 129mm
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 22nd July 2010

EPUB, 240 pages ebook Online Price:
ISBN: 9781907761386
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 22nd July 2010

Category: BDSM / Fetish, Contemporary, Erotic Novels

Rating: 4.8 / 5 stars - 4 vote(s).

"Never in all the hundreds and thousands of romance tales and stories that I have read over the decades has a novel left me so speechless." - Simply Erotic Reviews

An erotic novel by bestselling erotic novelist Chloe Thurlow

Emily feels wicked, liberated, daring. And bored. But her adventure begins on holiday in La Gomera, when a rugged beachcomber removes the leather thong from his neck and binds her hands behind her. Crossing oceans and continents in a nether world of smugglers, arms dealers, and pirates, she becomes the adored but captive jewel of the tough inflexible men who make a living in inhospitable landscapes. On hot afternoons on long days without number, she dedicates herself to the pleasures of sex in all its shapes and forms. She learns subservience. She becomes the perfect concubine. The perfect lover. She becomes Chengi – Girl.

Chloë Thurlow lives in a Chelsea attic and writes her stories from two to six in the dead hours of night. At twenty-seven, Chloë is the author of three erotic novels praised for their lyrical writing style and unblushing sensuality.

What made me be so thoughtless that day, so reckless, so irresponsible? Many times I would ask myself this question on those dark nights that lay in the future. Was it a sense of boldness, a touch of madness, of promiscuity? A lone girl, shamelessly naked in the great expanse of the sea. I had finished with university, finished with my boyfriend. I was free. Totally free. I was at the beginning of my life and, like Columbus, I wanted to enter the unknown. 
There is a Greek island that is said to move about the Aegean and I was beginning to wonder if the island before me was that very place, that the shaving of rock had cast off its ties and drifted across the Mediterranean, slid by the Rock of Gibraltar and was heading west for America. After leaving the midway point, that point where I should have turned back, I had swum on for a long time, yet the island seemed no closer, that rather than taking me towards the line of palm trees, each stroke was pushing it like a ball further away.
I rested, treading water, and glanced back. Before, I had been able to pick out the red and yellow stripes of the Spanish flag above some building on La Gomera. Now, it was a blur like a far away bird flapping on the horizon. There was no question of trying to swim back now. My fate was sealed and I swam on, paddling on my back, conscious suddenly that I would be arriving in a strange place without money or papers, as naked as the first creatures that crawled from the sea.
As that thought permeated my mind, I was suddenly afraid of the deep water, the silence, the isolation. I turned on to my front and swam faster, like an athlete at the end of a race. The moment of panic passed and I was relieved as the shapes and forms of the island grew firm, the trees, a pale beach, the ruins of a tower on the low peak. The next time I rested, my feet touched the sand of the sea bed and I waded slowly ashore.
I was on an empty beach dotted with shells and carapaces of every size and shape, shells in a kaleidoscope of colours like a flower garden. There were brick-coloured starfish, razor shells I stepped around so that I didn’t cut my feet, open shells with the dried skeletons of minute life forms and shells being carried methodically by hermit crabs. I saw bigger crabs with their swift sideways motion, running one way then the other, their eyes protruding like cartoon figures showing shock and surprise. I shivered with cold but the sun was heavy with the midday heat and I quickly warmed up as I picked my way through the shells to the dunes rising up at the edge of the beach. 
The island had seemed small when I set out from La Gomera, but it was bigger than I had expected, the coastline stretching perhaps a mile in each direction before curving away from view. I climbed the dunes and lay down. I was exhausted. I may even have slept, for it was the sound of footsteps on the shingle that brought me back to my senses. 
I was aware of two things simultaneously: the fact that help was on its way and, more worrying, that I was naked, no clothes, no phone, no watch. Nothing. 
The approaching figure was a man in a turban and a loose blue tunic that billowed about him. He didn’t hurry and approached as you might a nervous animal, a unicorn perhaps. It occurred to me that the island might be private property, that I was trespassing. Not that it would matter. I obviously hadn’t stolen anything. In a way, I felt safe. I would be able to explain that I had swum too far and couldn’t endure the long swim back. I was certain there must be a boat and hoped the man in the blue tunic was a fisherman. I had left my money in a purse under my towel on the beach. I could pay him.
I stood, unsure what to do with my hands, whether it was best to hide my breasts, my pubic hair, those bronze curls shiny and a shade darker than my hair falling wet and sandy about my shoulders. I tried to picture myself as the stranger must have pictured me, and decided it was best to be cool, act as if being naked was the most natural thing in the world. I remained motionless, spine straight, breasts thrust forward. I felt embarrassed, of course, but also mischievous, proud, vaguely superior, a mass of swirling, changing emotions that swept through me under the gaze of the stranger. 
As he drew nearer, his expression didn’t change. His face was as dark as mahogany, burnt by the sun, his features below the folds of his turban sharp and angular, a strong nose and piercing eyes shiny as chips of coal. He was carrying a large sack and, as he transferred it from one shoulder to the other, he made no pretence that he was studying my prominent nipples, my nervous smile, my green eyes trying to maintain the façade of self-confidence.

I have never read anything from this author..but this book was suggested to me...and I am so pleased I bought it! I am a 'proper bloke' and am not really into romance novels. This is so much is an account of an erotic journey, by a lovely,intelligent, submissive woman. I loved every page, and was constantly aroused by the graphic detail and powerful descriptions. Yes, if you like a good 'yarn', adventure, strong sex themes, then this is the book for now! But make sure you have time to spare... you will not put it down...

- A.J.Rees Amazon Review

Never in all the hundreds and thousands of romance tales and stories that I have read over the decades has a novel left me so speechless.

- Simply Erotic Reviews

What an adventure Thurlow tells in Girl Trade. Never having traveled to any exotic location, Thurlow invites the reader to wondrous places in this novel. This was the first writing by Thurlow that I have read and I can guarantee, not the last. The way Thurlow takes 'The Girl' to Spain and the deserts of Africa, she made me feel the atmosphere of the lands.

The way the descriptions are presented made my imagination complete. Thurlow should be applauded for her exquisite creativity with Girl Trade. Never in all the hundreds and thousands of romance tales and stories that I have read over the decades has a novel left me so speechless.

- Simply Erotic Reviews

Chloe Thurlow

Chloe lives in London where she adores going to clubs where she can wear a mask and be herself. All of her novels are based on experience, but only one is truly autobiographical and she’s not telling which one! She loves hearing from readers and you can write to her at - if she’s not tied up, she promises to write back.

When asked by friends why she writes "naughty books" she says that erotic literature is just that: literature. It is a form where sex should arise from plot and, yes, while it is there to stimulate, it should be integral to the character's awareness and development. What is the difference between erotica and porn? The erotic should be saucy, sensitive, a glimpse at our own hidden desires and dark side. It takes girls on a journey into the realms of their own undiscovered sensuality. And there's one more thing about erotic literature: it should be fun.

Find Chloe on these sites:




Customer Reviews:

Reviewed by: Kim Roper on 3rd August 2012 9:42AM

There is thanks to EL James and her Shades of Grey books a new erotica and Chloe Thurlow is up there with her as one of the best in the genre. Without stretching the comparison too far, like Ms James, Ms Thurlow writes romantic stories with an erotic twist and lots of surprises. We are drawn by the characters and plot, the sexual interludes coming as a natural development of the narrative, not stuck in every three pages just for the sake of it.

All stories are about change. Girl Trade is no different. We begin with Emily alone on the beach in the Canary Islands sunbathing naked. When she goes to swim, she sees a speck of rock in the distance and decides to get some exercise and reach it. The rock is further than it appears and suddenly, beyond the halfway mark, she has a choice: to return immediately, or continue and rest for a while before going back. She has left the known world and will arrive at a new world like a newborn: naked, penniless, the future a mystery.

The speck of rock is a small island. There she meets the Sheik, a people smuggler, and, though she has the chance to return and begin her old life, she travels with him on an old sailing boat along the coast of Africa and, eventually, to his harem, where she learns the art of erotic love. Torn away by the Sheik's father, she is carried across the Sahara by camel with slave traders and sold at a slave market in Timbuktu. Emily survives because she believes the Sheik loves her and will come to save her before she is sacrificed in a black magic ritual that is one of the most tense passages I have ever read.

Trade Girl is a great adventure with moving descriptions and erotic encounters that will keep you up burning the midnight oil as you turn the pages. Can't wait to read the next one.

Reviewed by: Mike Turner on 3rd August 2012 9:40AM

We start with Emily in Spain on the beach sunbathing and bored. Skinny dipping, she decides to swim out to a rock on the horizon and, by the time she reaches it, she is too tired to swim back. Resting for a while, a swarthy beachcomber finds this gorgeous naked girl, binds her hands behind her back and takes advantage her in ways neither she nor we can imagine.

The beachcomber sells the girl to a young handsome Sheik, who sees something in Emily that he desires in a more refined, erotic sense. When she escapes, swimming for her life, he gives chase in a speedboat. Just as she is about to step on shore back in Spain, he arrives. He offers her his hand and she is given the choice: to return to her old life, or go off on a wild adventure.

She chooses adventure. She travels on an old ship with the Sheik down the coast of Africa where she learns the art of submission and he learns the art of love. After joining the Sheik\'s harem, Emily - now known simply as Chengi, girl, is kidnapped and taken by camel traders across the Sahara to Timbuktu, where she is sold at a slave auction to members of a black magic cult who practice human sacrifice.

The Sheik, against the will of his father, the Emir, gives chase and we discover that beyond the amazing erotic sex that has filled their lives there is the passion of a great romance. Will the Sheik save her in time? That\'s just one of many surprises in this surprising and well-written book that made me feel the heat and lust of Africa. The travel descriptions are excellent, the characters walk off the pages as real as anything, and the plot has plenty of twists to keep you constantly interested.

Reviewed by: Lucy Felthouse on 10th February 2013 4:57PM

Girl Trade is an erotic novel by Chloe Thurlow - and it's definitely not for the faint hearted. If you like a lot of romance with your erotica, then this book probably isn't for you. If, however, you like hard erotica with dark themes such as kidnap, almost-forced sex, slavery, then you'll enjoy it.

It tells the story of a girl whose real name we never discover, as the book is told in first person. It starts in La Gomera, the Canary Islands, where the protagonist leaves her swimsuit and belongings on the beach and swims out to an even smaller island in the distance. Once there, her life is changed forever. She's quickly thrust into a dangerous adventure, surrounded by men who use her for their own needs, until she's claimed by a sheikh. Then a whole new journey begins, which is full of excitement, danger and subservience. The woman, far from being terrified and desperate to go home, embraces her new life, finds it a wonderful escape from her old life. But will she think that way forever?

This is one of the most unusual erotic novels I've ever read, with it's hardcore themes and semi non-consensual scenes. But if you can read a book and totally suspend your disbelief, then this is a hot, unique book.

Reviewed by: Marsha Chase on 10th April 2012 2:57PM

The girl with no name in this wonderful novel dreams of adventure and gets more than she bargained for when she sets off on a journey with a young Arab sheik on an old tramp steamer along the coast of Africa.

Stolen from the sheik\'s harem after long days of hot blistering passion, she is forced by brutal camel traders to cross the Sahara to the slave market in Timbuktu, where she is sold to natives who practice human sacrifice.

She has plenty of opportunities to sample the dark passions of the men (and women) along the way and readers are left wondering whether the sheik will arrive in the nick of time to save her from the sacrificial knife.

Girl Trade grabs you right from the beginning - when the girl swims naked from a beach in the Canary Islands - and holds you breathlessly by the nerve endings until the last page. More please, Ms Thurlow.

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