If I do not find a good book to read soon I'm going to jump off the nearest building.
My recent stretch of dismal review books has finally gotten to me. Outside of License to Thrill by Lori Wilde - the last time I read a really good book was early November. I'm ready to weep from the frustration.
I did finish the Frontier Christmas anthology and was largely disappointed. Very middle-of-the-road read. I have all but given up on the Gifts of the Season anthology because I have determined that I'm soooo not in a Regency kind of mood at the moment.
So where does that leave me? Reading The Christmas Kiss by Elizabeth Keys. So far it's been pleasant enough, but the story really needs to start moving. In my current mood, I have little patience.
I think what I need is a good, meaty, angst-filled read. The kind of book that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go. Or maybe I need a tearjerker. Or maybe I just need to find a nice, comforting straight-jacket and take an extended vacation to Wacky Land.
I am finally getting around to listening to To The Nines by Janet Evanovich on audio. Pretty good so far. My diehard devotion to this series has slipped some over the last couple of installments (Stephanie is still brain-dead in many ways regarding her bounty hunter job - wouldn't you think she's learn a few things by book 9?).
One thing hasn't changed though - the character of Ranger. God, how I love this man. He's Latin, he's a bad-ass bounty hunter, he drives kick-ass, new, black cars, and he says things that make my knees go weak.
How come all the hot ones have to be fictional?