Always and Forever by Farrah Rochon

Always and Forever is the story of Phylicia and Jamal who are first introduced in A Forever Kind of Love as the best friends of the protagonists (you won’t be lost if you haven’t read the first book). The story is set in Gauthier, Louisiana, the cutest little town this side of Stars Hollow: It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, with its brightly colored storefronts sporting striped awnings and hand-painted We’re Open signs hanging in the windows. Jamal hadn’t known towns like this still existed, especially with predominantly black populations.

Basically, I want to go to there.

Jamal is converting a Victorian home into a green B&B and needs Phil’s assistance as she is “one of the most sought after restoration specialists in the entire region”. Problem is that Phil wants nothing to do with Jamal. See, even though they both felt an immediate attraction and completely bonded at their best friends’ wedding, the next day Phil was like: “And you are?” Ouch. The reason why is completely believable and understandable, but I still felt for Jamal who is, by the way, THE BEST. He’s such a wonderful character. Sweet, sincere, sexy. And so sensitive!

“Good morning,” Jamal said.
“Good morning,” she answered and moved right past him.
Jamal closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest. So much for that.

He just drops nuggets like this one, making me swoooon:

“…I dread even going to the house in the morning, because it’s so damn hard to work near you and not touch you. To have you ignore me. Do you know how much that kills me?”

DUDE.

He also…plays the saxophone. I think I’ve watched The Lost Boys one too many times to find that romantic. All I can come up with is cornball. Other things that I quirked my eyebrow at: there’s a bit where “the thought of being mistaken for Phylicia’s husband didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would.” He and Phil are in ARIZONA to go to his sister’s wedding, two seconds after they started dating. So um, you’re in it to win it Jamal. Relax. If anyone should be scared it’s Phil. And Jamal’s actions were a bit too much to swallow at the end. Not that I didn’t get how he could be angry, but the level of anger raised these old eyebrows a bit. No worries though, I welcomed him back with loving arms.

Phil is just as swoon-worthy. She’s hard-working and strong and passionate. It was wonderful watching her finally let her guard down with Jamal. I loved that he didn’t try to solve all of her problems for her and that the obvious “easy fix” was never an option for either of them. Also? Her relationship with her mother brought tears to my eyes.

Love this book. So, so satisfying.

ALL THE STARS!!!!

Night Hawk by Beverly Jenkins

Before I read Night Hawk I’d been holding out for a hero. I’d been holding out for a hero until the morning light. He had to be strong, and he had to ride his horse into a saloon and he had to have a Scottish brogue that he brought out on special occasions. Ian Vance aka Ian Bigelow aka Preacher? NAILS IT. He gets the job done. That is, when Maggie Freeman wasn’t taking matters into her own hands. She didn’t wait around for Ian to swoop in and save her, although she has no doubt that he would. They complimented each other perfectly and I loved watching them fall in love. I wish there had been more focus on the romance and less awkward info dumps, though.

“…I do most of the doctoring for the race around here, deliver all the babies too. Learned my doctoring during the war.”
“Where are you from?”
“South Carolina. Trained under Susie King Taylor.”
Maggie was unfamiliar with the name and it must have shown on her face because Lola explained. “Susie helped nurse the Black troops of South Carolina’s Thirty Third Regiment. She was fairly well known back during those days.”
…as Maggie listened she told how Susie’s family…escaped slavery on a Union gunboat and joined the Union Army. “She was about fifteen when the Yankee officers came to St. Simon Island to recruit soldiers. She was hired to be a laundress at first…

And it continues on from there, pulling me completely out of the story. Sure, I’d love to know more about Susie King Taylor and Big Nose George Parrot (holy crap!) and Jim Beckworth, but surely there was a way to be a little less obvious when introducing an Important Moment in History to a scene that has been running along so nicely, and I’m all invested.

All in all, a lovely book. 3.5 stars!

Lady Luck by Kristen Ashley

Shame on me for giving this author another shot. It was an attempt to understand WHY IN THE WORLD so many people find her writing compelling. What I’m left with is the simple fact that taste is subjective. That being said, I’m judging allllllll ya’ll.

Lady Luck is the story of Lexie, hairy goof extraordinaire, and Ty, regurgitated KA hero. It opens with Lexie waiting for Ty to be released from prison. Lexie’s got this super sweet ride. Right away I’m thinking: Oh, okay so KA just finished watching some prison drama where someone had a super sweet ride. Got it. Lexie’s under the thumb of some pimp, naturally, which is why a classy person such as herself would even be in the position of giving an ex-con a ride. But then she sees Ty and thinks, “Thanks, Pimp! You old matchmaking pimp!”

Ty is tall. Lexie is taken aback by just how tall he is: “I’d never seen a man that big. He had to be six foot five, six foot six, maybe even taller.” Later on we learn that she dated a man who was destined for the NBA and played college basketball so I seriously doubt it. Her ex, by the way, had some “Hoop dreams. Shit life. Projects. He wanted his mom and sisters seen to, his girl dripping gold. Scholarship yanked and since he was dealing and pimpin’ and ended up doing time for both, he was banned. He was destined for the NBA. Everyone said it.” I can’t even deal with this paragraph with its fucking sentence fragments and wanna-be street slang. It really is worth it to get to know black people outside of your television set, folks! Just makes the biggest difference in whether or not you make a total jackass out of yourself trying to write Black People Problems. It’s not all about drugs and basketball and pimpin’. Jesus. I never thought I’d have to spell that out.

Let’s talk a bit more about Ty, since he’s what brings all the readers to the yard: “He was muscle from neck down, pure, firm, defined muscle.” And in case you didn’t get the memo that this guy has muscles: “…the veins sticking out on his superhumanly muscled forearm…” GROSS!

Then she waxes poetic about his face. To sum it all up: perfection. He’s got scars, which is Romancelandia code for Tortured Badass and some curly eye lashes thrown in which I’m pretty sure is code for Big Ole Puddy Tat. She mentions that “I’d never seen eyes that shape.” They’re described as almond shaped which is definitely code for OMGEXOTIC!!!! Yep, nailed it: “…his skin tone said he was a mutt and that mutt definitely included African-American. There was Caucasian in him, I would guess, but no more than half. His skin was as perfect as the rest of him but dark-toned and not with Italian olive undertones but definitely black.” In all honesty it’s good that she spelled it out because white readers tend to read everyone as white no matter how dark you describe their skin to be. Nope, not like an Italian, most definitely black. Probably. Also, NO MORE THAN HALF?! Who needs Genealogy.com when you’ve got Alexa Anne Berry?!

We find out Ty’s mother is white and his father is black. Ty’s mother is a haggard, racist old bitter bitch bent on making her husband and son’s life a living hell. She tells Lexie two seconds after meeting her: “Two white girls hitched to black men in this county. Me with him,” she jerked her head to the man who was still hanging out at the end of the SUV, “and you and the black half of my son.” Absolutely shameful. You know how racist white women go out of their way to stay married to black men that they can’t stand. And instead of divorcing this haggard, racist old bitter bitch bent on making his life a living hell, Ty’s father decides instead to DRINK HIMSELF TO DEATH. Nope!!!

And of course Lexie is kidnapped by a racist cop at the end of the story, because KA just found out racism exists and can’t do ANYTHING half-assed. I mean, check this out: “…her other hand going into her hair at her forehead, pulling the thick, shining, waving dark mass back, lifting a huge bunch of it at the back of her head and shaking it a couple of times before dropping it only for it to fall into and around her face again, settling on her shoulders and streaming down her back.” That’s just a bit about HAIR. So Lexie gets kidnapped as most white women are when they date black men IN COLORADO and there’s no suspense, no build up, no investigating, black people are just like: “Oh, look for a cabin in the woods where black people are routinely taken to be tortured and everyone knows about it and yet IT HAS NOT BEEN RAZED TO THE GROUND.” Really?! In case you couldn’t figure it out, I despise the way race/racism is used in this story. It’s simply a plot device to create the most drama possible, and there’s no heart, no truth involved here, just outlandishness at every turn. It’s a joke and it makes me furious.

The majority of the “action” of the story happens ON THE PHONE. I can’t…It really bothers me that so many people are into this shit, because besides being offensive, it really is just incredibly stupid. The sex scenes aren’t even sexy, just a lot of over-descriptiveness of where people’s limbs are and how exactly they’re bent along with a liberal use of the word “pussy”. And what is UP with the way KA’s heroes talk?! Those repetitious one word sentences and that seriously wacked pidgin slang makes me feel uneasy. It’s not sexy, it’s not funny, it’s not cute. When Ty says, “Mama. Come here. Kiss.” let me tell you he sounded EXACTLY like my 5 and 3 year old sons. I wonder, THAT’S your romance hero?!

In conclusion: KILL IT WITH FIRE!!!

-49843082309843209840329840932840932 stars

The Journal of Best Practices by David Finch

David Finch and his wife Kristen find themselves at an impasse after five years of marriage. He is not the man that she married, probably because he has a special gift for playing other people or “characters”. Luckily Kristen has a hunch – he has Asperger Syndrome – and therein lies the rub. This is why they have trouble communicating, why they’ve lost touch: Finch’s innate lack of empathy. So what’s the solution? Well, Finch’s love for his wife makes him want to be a better man, and while he goes about that process in a way that is a bit clinical, his aim is true.

The book was the perfect combination of hilarious and heartfelt. Finch has a way of detailing his compulsions that makes them hard to criticize because you’re laughing so hard. Make no mistake, I also cringed, but only before I burst out laughing again. It was immensely entertaining, although there was one point where I put the book down and didn’t pick it back up for weeks. Usually that means that I’m done, but when I picked it back up I was right back to being immensely entertained. One issue that I found with the book was Kristen’s lack of acknowledgement of her role in the crumbling of their marriage, or what I felt was her lack of acknowledgement. She says all of the right things in every situation, she talks about them each taking responsibility for their actions, and how they should be more communicative, but he really does all of the heavy lifting. And I guess that’s the point of the book? It’s his journey, after all.

This book was of special interest to me as my husband also had a late in life Asperger Syndrome diagnosis. I wasn’t expecting to understand my husband more by way of reading this book or to receive some sort of epiphany; I simply wanted to see certain aspects of our relationship reflected back at me, and that was extremely satisfying.

3.5 stars

Easy by Tammara Webber

Easy struck a chord with me; the depiction of college life felt authentic and brought back memories of dorm days and frat parties and mean rumors and heartbreak and The Games We Play. Of course there’s a lot of texting too, which don’t exist in my memories because I AM OLD. Pagers, anyone?

Jacqueline, the girl formerly known as Jackie, has been dumped unceremoniously by her boyfriend, frat boy and future politician Kennedy. Honestly, I’m surprised that she wasn’t expecting it. He did, at one point say, “You’re my Jackie.” It’s supposed to be this sweet sentiment like, “We’re meant to be.” But what I saw was: “You’re the wife that I’m gonna step out on.” Crushed, Jacqueline doesn’t want to get out of bed, and she certainly doesn’t want to go to Econ and sit next to her now EX Boyfriend. Fortunately for her, there is a guy with a lip ring, tattoos, and charcoal smudged fingertips staring at her from the back of the classroom just waiting to step in. Because when God closes a door he sometimes opens a window. So that hot guys can climb in and watch you sleep.

I liked Jacqueline. She’s smart, she’s kind and she’s a bad ass who doesn’t let herself get knocked around. Also? She plays the upright bass. Hell yeah. I didn’t entirely hate Kennedy and I appreciated that he wasn’t completely written off as scum. He lets his little head make important decisions which is dumb but also so like a guy, am I right? I felt like he truly cared for Jacqueline and it was nice to see a bit of his home life and his interactions with his siblings.

Lucas, of the lip ring and tattoos and charcoal smudged fingertips, is just mysterious enough. He’s got a pretty heartbreaking backstory. He’s obviously into Jacqueline, but he still manages to give her mixed signals and act like he couldn’t give a rip, which is also SO like a guy, am I right? In case you were wondering: Lucas>Kennedy. Lucas is HAWT. Which brings me to one of my issues with the story: I felt that it was incredibly weird (and lame) that while Jacqueline is having a very serious conversation about rape with a group of girls, that as soon as Lucas’ name is mentioned (he volunteers as a self-defense assistant) the girls get all silly and swoony and “He is SO yummy.” Which is SO like girls, am I right? But seriously, it completely threw off the tone of the moment.

All in all, Easy was a sweet story about finding love and finding yourself. For me, Lucas is hot sauce because he helps make Jacqueline stronger, he encourages her independence and he makes an awesome sacrifice for her. I really did enjoy this book, and I’ll probably re-read it a million times.

 

Back to the Good Fortune Diner

Tiffany Cheung has had a string of bad luck: she has no job, no apartment, and no car. She balks at moving back home and working at her parents diner – which is Good Fortune in name only, in her opinion. Not only do her family have a certain high standard that they expect her to live up to, but she has set some pretty high ones for herself as well. She doesn’t get a thrill from working in a diner like her brother, Daniel, saying to him at one point: “I hate that after all the work I put in, this is where I’m at. I was supposed to be an editor at a publishing house by now. But here I am, thirty-two and back living with my parents.”  But then she reconnects with Chris (high school crush) who hires her to tutor his son, Simon. And guess what? The crush is alive and well. There are goosebumps and sparks and racing pulses, oh my.

Okay, so it’s not as if I haven’t read this type of book thousands of times – former high school weirdo/nerd returns to small town and finally scores big with the quarterback hottie, yet Back to the Good Fortune Diner still managed to feel fresh. Not to mention refreshing. I’m not gonna lie – I get tired of reading about white people. The story resonated with me because I could understand not only how it felt to be the only (or one of few) POC in a predominantly white environment but also how it felt/feels to be an awkward individual in general. Sometimes being a combination of the two feels downright tragic (please watch The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl if you haven’t already). Tiffany’s self-preservation tactics tickled me; she’s crushing on Chris big time but gets all Ice Queen when she’s around him, giving the appearance that she couldn’t care less when that couldn’t be any further from the truth. He’s pretty popular with the ladies so watching him squirm was entertaining; his attempts at flirtation with her in the beginning are awkward but their initial interactions still manage to crackle with sexual tension. By the time Tiffany started letting down her defenses, I was relieved although not entirely convinced that she could loosen up so entirely around Chris in such a short period of time. But nevermind that, I quite enjoyed her “propositioning” him using kittens as bait. And that gravy/French fry scene? I actually clutched my pearls and said, “Dang.”

I completely bought Tiffany and Chris’ attraction, but the love? Not so much. It was too much, too soon. And don’t even get me started on Chris’ father, whose transformation from racist to introspective, empathetic human being was a bit of a stretch. How nice for Tiffany, that a well overdue talk down to a big bully magically relieved him of his ignorance. I wish.

Despite that, I still enjoyed Back to the Good Fortune Diner and hope to read more by Ms. Essex.

3.5 stars.

Nine Double Oh Penis

I was re-watching The Sweetest Thing last night and I almost cried laughing. I remember going to see this movie in the theatre with my friend Gena. Neither of us expected it to be as funny as it was, and we were both hoping to maybe mock it a little bit.

I remember watching this scene in particular with my jaw basically touching the ground:

Now I watch it and I’m like: Dude. Are romance heroines unreliable narrators? Maybe they’ve all been watching this scene on repeat and think that this is the way to talk to men. “Your penis! Is so! LARGE!”

I’m getting to the point that whenever I read about how big some guy’s dick is I roll my eyes. And no matter how tight the heroine is, she can take it all, no lube or warming up required. And no matter how much peen she takes on a daily basis she is still snug as a bug in a rug.

Now I’ll be thinking about this scene. Every time I read about some guy’s GINORMOUS WANG I am going to treat the narrator as unreliable.

Sorted!

Whoops, that’s your romance: Motorcycle Man

I recently purchased a train wreck of a book that I’ve been hearing rave reviews about all over our great internets. That book is called Motorcycle Man. A lot of readers compared the book to crack or Pringles, a guilty pleasure that is highly addictive. It was $2.99 so I figured, what the hell?

I want my three dollars back.

Motorcycle Man is a Sons of Anarchy fanfic  a story about Tack and Tyra, two boneheads who fall in love. Tyra’s all: “OMG UR GOATEE IS SO KICKASS THA BOMB DIGGITY.” And Tack is all, “IMA CALL U RED CUZ YOUR HAIR IS RED NOT LIKE SUN OR DARK.”

Clearly they’re a match made in heaven.

Dear Tack: Calling blondes “sun” is real dumb, son. Knock it off.

Tack was christened Tack because he is supposedly “sharp as a” but bitch, please. Dumb as a Rock, more like. Dude is always trying to lay all of this knowledge on Tyra, and it’s just a stream of dropped g’s and f bombs and a whole bunch of zzzz’s. I’m like: is this guy seriously talking just to hear himself talk? What the hell is he even talking ABOUT? I’m pretty sure he’s brain damaged. And I look over at Tyra and she’s just FLOORED by his garbled monologue. And THE REPETITION! Tack’s goatee will growl, whisper, and growl again the same question “WHAT WERE YOU FUCKING THINKING?” and Tyra will shriek, whisper, and shriek again her non-answer, something like: “MY FOOT IS ASLEEP!” and shit goes on for AGES. And there’s some muttering and growling about drugs and the Russian Mob (who kidnap Tyra twice)? Do I have to mention that everything in this book is told and not shown? Nope. Shouldn’t have to. It’s all very: Then stuff happened, randomly.

Don’t even get me started on him talking about Tyra’s “soft spot” and “greedy pussy”.  Ew. Ew Ew Ew EW!

But oh! These two are in luuuurve because suddenly Tyra can see colors now. Literally. It turns out oranges are orange! Cool! Dear Tyra: when people say that they lived in black and white until something/someone came into their lives, honeybabydarlin, that’s just called A FIGURE OF SPEECH. If you truly cannot see color you should go see an eye doctor.

And “You colored my world!”  is just one example of the many, many trite, cliché, HELLA CORNY expressions that run rampant in this book.  Most are of the rapist, abusive manipulator variety.

This happened, basically:

“Baby, I like wrapping my hands around your throat so that I can feel your sweet pulse and know you’re alive.”

“But it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I get that, since I’ve been known to choke a bitch. But you’re my woman MINE and I do what I want with my women. If you don’t want me to hold you by your throat when we’re casually talkin’ you’ll have to get used to talkin’ this way ‘cuz I’ll still do it ‘cuz you gotta understand Chaos and our way of life ‘cuz I do what I wanna do ‘cuz I’m the man and you’re the woman. I’ll give you whatever you want except whens I don’t want what you want and this time I don’t want what you want. You gotta understand who the man is in the relationship and it’s me ‘cuz I have a cock and you suck it. ”

Oh God. Did he just say that? He did just say that! He. Is. Awesome!

“Okay.” I whispered.

…

This is a very, very badly written book in which every single character is an ignorant moron who is violently melodramatic. I can’t.

And people are RECOMMENDING this garbage. Whoops!

Cover Love

Andy just texted me at work.

Andy: Google Max Gladstone Three Parts Dead

So I did.

Me: Oh, HELL YEAH.

Book, prepare to be read.

I’ll be in my bunk

You know what makes a good romance for me? Pain, and lots of it.

I’m all about the Power of Love bringing people to their knees. When it hurts so good? I AM A HAPPY CAMPER.
Okay, I think that was enough clichés to last a lifetime.
But I’m mostly serious.

I’m not so much a fan of literal pain, although Laura Kinsale’s Shadowheart rocked my socks off.

“Tell me what you wish.” he murmured.

A deep thrill of excitement sank down through her. “You know what I wish. Do you know it?” It was half a question, half a cry.

His lips parted. She saw his chest rise and fall. “Tell me.”

“To give you hurt again!” she exclaimed, with a tinge of panic. “God save me.”

He made a sound like a muted growl. “Hurt me, then.”

She was panting. She turned away, in recoil from her own self. “Nay,” she breathed.

“I want it,” he whispered. “I have lived in dream of it for days.”

“Allegretto,” she said, closing her eyes.

The water swirled as he moved. “It is so sweet to hear you say my name.”

Oh, sex scenes. I love them. LOVE them. I’ve always been surprised when I read about people skipping them because the hell? Bring it ON. Bring on the licking and the nipping and the laving and the sucking and the …well, the fucking.

That’s what it’s all been leading up to, right?

Lately though, I feel like I’ve been reading the same scene over and over again. It’s like all of the heroes and heroines in Romancelandia are following the same script.

Her: HOLY CRAP will it fit?

Him: You’re so tight.

Her: You’re so big!!

Him: You’re so wet.

Her: Please!

Him: Please what?

Her: Please!

Him: Please what?

Her: *eyes narrowed* Please.

Him: *hammers into her* Come for me.

Her: *immediate orgasm*

Me:

I will not be in my bunk.

Lately I’ve been reading Kristan Higgins’ entire backlist, and have been THOROUGHLY enjoying them. This is kind of crazy because there are zero sex scenes in her books. ZERO. Zilch. At first I couldn’t wrap my head around the whole “She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. The next morning…”

Me: “Wait a second. Hol’ up. Don’t leave me hanging like this!”

But they’re extremely satisfying. I like not knowing what the hero’s penis looks like or if the heroine has been doing her kegels like a good girl. I like seeing the two leads actually, ya know, get to know each other and witness the first falling in love moments. The heroes aren’t constantly strutting around like roosters and the women are actually nice people who I’d possibly like to hang out with! And there’s a good amount of WE CAN’T BE TOGETHER WAAAAAH pain too – *fist pump*. But what’s even more awesome is that the heroine is resolved to make a go at it alone in the end WITHOUT THE HERO IF NECESSARY.

Now that’s love.

Toods,

Jen

P.S. I still love sex scenes.