Pay No Attention To the Skank Behind The Curtain

I like to think I'm an equal opportunity sort of girl when it comes to admiring the male of the species. I have devoted blog posts to the hotness that is Djimon Hounsou and Nomar Garciaparra (although his skank wife just had twins). However my tastes tend to run predominantly towards the Skinny White Boy spectrum. Oooh, how I love me those skinny white boys.

I also enjoy "intelligent" pop music - so basically I hardly listen to pop music anymore.

However, I thought I had died and gone to heaven when I first heard (and saw) Maroon 5. I just about wore out my copy of their debut album, Songs About Jane. Catchy melodies, brooding lyrics, and a hot, hot skinny white boy lead singer. Heaven!

Then he had to go and get "romantically" linked to Jessica Simpson. That was sort of like standing on the North Pole, butt-ass nekkid and having ice water dumped over me. OK boys - I know she's got a body to die for but seriously - dumb as a bag of hammers. Happily it's a romantic entanglement that didn't last, but now my Skinny White Boy crush has the Jessica Stink on him.

Not that I necessarily have to "respect" the guy to enjoy his music - but seriously, Jessica Simpson?! Icky, icky, cooties! Yeah, I know - cute butt, big boobs, lots of blonde hair = men losing their minds and their tongues hitting the asphalt. But hello? Dumb as a bag of hammers!

(Of course, if you're only going to have sex with her I guess her having the intelligence of a fruit fly can be overlooked)

So I vowed to wash Maroon 5 right out of my hair. It was unlikely that their second album (if they ever completed it) was going to be "as good" as Songs About Jane. Then I saw the new video. Damn. I'm still pissed about Jessica - but I'm starting to get over it.

Hole In Head

Dear Wendy,
This is your guilt-ridden conscience speaking. I know that you had a nice day yesterday. You took the day off work, and you visited your former library to attend a baby shower for the only person you hired while you were manager. There was pizza and cake. Very good cake. Very sugary cake. Which is why your subsequent visit to the used bookstore could possibly be blamed on the resulting sugar high.

Now, I know you used to frequent this bookstore a lot when you were working at the library. It's only a couple of miles down the road, and it was a great lunch-break refuge when you needed to "escape." I also know that the owners of this used bookstore don't believe in organizational skills, because it's very hard to shop there using a "list." So instead, you browse.

Wendy, don't you know by now that you get into serious trouble when you browse?

So the fact that the series romance wasn't in any sort of discernible order should have been a hindrance. Yes, all of the Harlequin SuperRomances were shelved together, but how? Not by author? Not by numerical number? Just sort of tossed on the shelf.

Did this stop you? Oh no. Those lovely folks at Harlequin revamped the cover art within the last year, so it was easy to spot the "newer" ones. So you whipped out your series shopping list, pulled all the "new" looking titles off the shelf and lost your damn mind.

You walked out of that store with 20+ HSR titles, and a Mary Burton Harlequin Historical (The Perfect Wife).

Wendy, you need more series romance like a hole in the head. It's bad enough that for the last 3 years you've been living in California you've never invested in one measly book case. Oh no, you've got the books stored in Rubbermaid totes by type. Well girlfriend, your "series" tote is full. Overflowing in fact. It's at the point that when you get through your review books you're going to have to go on a series reading bender. There's no other choice. Your hand is forced. It's either that or do another weeding, although you've done two in the last three years already.

So for my sanity, please stop buying Harlequins until you read through some of the ones you have. Yes, I know you love the HSR line. But really, enough is enough.

Sincerely,
Your Guilt-Ridden Conscience Suffering Under the Crippling Effects of TBR Anxiety

Calling All Librarians

The RWA conference is coming up kiddies, and you know what that means - the Librarian's Day Event. Cathie Linz always does a nice job putting this day together, and the last time I attended (Reno in 2005) the free goodies were choice. If you're a librarian, and in the area, I do recommend it. It's a nice day, and the huge-ass book signing follows afterwards - so it makes for a full, rich (and tiring) day, but it's oodles of fun.

Nora Roberts is this year's luncheon speaker. Correct me if I'm wrong here - but she's done the librarian's day for several years running now. I always get a kick out of seeing Nora at RWA (although I'm too much of a goober to actually talk to her). I always come back to work afterwards and tell everybody in a hushed whisper, "Nora Roberts was there! Yes, she's a real person and not a cyborg!" When you're that prolific, we librarians wonder. I have a theory that James Patterson has a writing sweat shop in Guatemala - but that's another blog post entirely.

So imagine my heady giddiness when Nora responded to this post. One, two, three - squeeeee! And she needs our help? If you're a librarian (or just wish you were) what would you like to hear Nora talk about at the Librarian's Day Event? Besides her top secret plans to take over the world of course.

Side note: I think I'd like to hear Nora talk about all her years in the business. Her first book was released in 1981, and her back list is humongous. I mean, she's seen trends come and go, "ideas" from the powers-that-be come and go, and romance evolve. Or has it really? I'd love to hear her take on this. Has the industry really changed? Or do "we" just think it has?

The Librarian Has Her Say

Tired of RITA talk yet? Of course you're not! But I had an epiphany today. One of those "A-Ha!" moments that I so rarely have because 1) I'm not that clever and 2) I'm not that clever. That's why this blog gets a hellava lot less traffic than say Dear Author or the Smart Bitches.

I've been a working, professional librarian for 8 years now, (cripes I'm old, when did that happen?) and have been actively working in collection development for 6 of those years. So I kind of like to think I know what I'm talking about when I say this:

Readers don't care about any genre fiction "industry" award. Really, they don't.

Not the Edgars, the Nebulas, the Agathas, the Spurs - whatever. They don't care. And you know why they don't care? Because they're genre fiction readers!

Readers read genre fiction for one reason and one reason only. Ready for it? They want to be entertained. They want likable characters, a good story, and something to take their mind off their own problems. They read genre fiction because while they might feel guilty about it - they like what they like and they don't have any hang-ups about reading for "enrichment" or "enlightenment" or slogging through books because they're "good for you." Yeah, literature is a rich tableau, but wouldn't you rather have a Snickers bar as opposed to brussel sprouts?

As a librarian working in collection development, I do pay attention to all these awards. I make sure we have enough copies etc. I keep an eye on the request list(s). And you know what? They very seldom "jump" up after an award win (but I keep up the pretense anyway because my boss seems to think I should). The books that do garner high request(s) and win awards - well those are mainly coincidence. Frankly, La Nora is going to circulate like gangbusters whether she wins any awards or not. Readers love her regardless, and I think that goes for every other author out there. Readers read you because they like your book(s), not because you're winning awards left and right.

The only exception to this rule that I can find are the National Book Awards and the Pulitzer - but (and this is a big but), the winning books have to have what I call the Book Club Stink on them. Which most of them do, because both of these are literary awards, and frankly book clubs can only read so many Oprah picks before they want to poke their eyes out.

But by and large, genre readers don't care because they simply read for the love of reading. For the love of being entertained and swept away. We aren't reading to "make ourselves better people" (although this is not impossible with genre fiction) and we're not reading to "educate" ourselves. We're reading simply because we love it. We've reached a point in our lives where we're tired of being told what we should be reading. Awards are just a back-door way for "them" to tell us what we should be reading - and that's why we tune them out.

But I concede that authors need awards. It's validation. It's sort of like when I get a good evaluation at work. It is a way to be recognized for all that hard work, blood, sweat and tears. And who doesn't love to have a pat on the back? A "good for you" and a "job well done?" And honestly, authors already get that from readers every time we buy a book, go to a library, or "recommend" books to friends, family and strangers at the airport. We've been doing our part for years. We write you fan mail. We visit your blogs. We attend book signings. We wait with bated breath for your next release. That's our idea of an "award." And while it's not a statue that you can sit on your mantle, and it's not something tangible you can hold on to, take my word for it - while genre fiction readers will likely never care about industry awards, that doesn't mean they love authors any less.

Feminist Underpanties

Maybe I'm back on track with my reading?

I wrapped up Hot Water by Kathryn Jordan today. This was a "homework" book. I'm going to be moderating a panel at a literary event next month (more on this in a future blog post), and Jordan is one of "my" authors. Hot Water is her debut, and it's quite good - but not for everybody. It also isn't a romance, although she told me she's seen her book shelved in both romance and general fiction sections of bookstores. The plot keeps it from being a romance novel (romance readers are a mite touchy over adultery) and while it's erotic it's not a kinky sex fest splashed on every other page. I'd call it "literary erotica." The sort of book that English majors read when they want to be naughty but they don't want to soil their hands holding something that could be construed as genre fiction.

A Minnesota housewife going by the alias of Julia Reeves has had enough. Her children are grown, having left her nest empty, and her marriage is in the crapper. Is hubby abusive? Well the author never really spells it out, but he is definitely neglectful and clueless. The final straw is when Julia finds the deed to a "hunting lodge" that her husband bought and didn't tell her about. So she gives him a cock and bull story about visiting her sister, flies to California, leases a red Lamborghini, checks into an exclusive Palm Springs "adults only" spa and hires herself a male hooker.

Go on with your bad self girlfriend!

The man she hires, she asks him to go by the name of "William", has been in the escort business for a while. He's young, a former philosophy major (hence his career as a hooker now - ha!), and an all around hunk. But he's seriously growing tired of catering to bored rich broads who've had one too many Botox injections. Enter Julia. He likes her. A little too much. A big no-no in his line of work.

So we have a wife cheating on her husband and a male prostitute. It's kind of like Pretty Woman in reverse meets Thelma & Louise. It's also a very quick read, clocking in at less than 300 pages and short chapters (I'm a short chapter whore).

But despite the deception, despite the cheating, I liked this story. The pages turn easily, although Jordan does have a tendency to get a bit too literary for my tastes. I can't explain why this book works for me, it just does. Maybe because there's an insight here. I'm not suggesting women cheating on their husbands is feminist behavior - but statements like this one are. Julia is talking to William about her life compared to that of her sister's:

"My life was completely different," she said, "but I wouldn't call it honest. Whatever they say, being married doesn't make it honest. More like playing parts, for us anyway, only we didn't even have the same script." She sighed. "The only true honesty is being who you really are, and how can you know that when you're..." She looked up at him. She would not say, "when you're young." She had known years ago, but there were children to raise. "Anyway, it changes that's all. It always changes."

Women tend to have an idolized view of what marriage is. That once our white knight shows up, we'll live "happily ever after." Not the case. Marriage, any relationship for that matter, is hard work. It's not all peaches and cream, sunshine and rainbows. I'm convinced that many marriages fail because people think it isn't "work." That it should just happen magically and everyone rides off into the sunset. Also, I tend to think that women panic about the idea of being "alone." I've been in and out of relationships in my day - trust me here, being alone ain't all bad, all the time. Does it get lonely? Yes. Is it the end of the world? No.

The ending does end happily - depending on what your definition of "happy" is. However, Julia is still running, and I think living in the Land Of Denial. Could be why the author is planning a sequel hmmmm?

A book for everyone? No. One I would recommend universally? No. But it still worked for me, despite the deception and adultery. What does that say about me? Final Grade = B.

Rewrites

Apparently I am capable of finishing a book. Who knew?

I originally picked up The Collector by Cameron Cruise because it's set in Orange County, California - currently where I am calling "home." Contrary to popular belief (AKA The Fox Television Network) "The O.C." is not all skinny, rich white kids wearing fabulous duds. It's actually a very ethnically diverse area. Not just people from different cultures, but people who weren't born in the U.S. There's a strong immigrant mentality here. Work hard, grab a piece of the American dream, and give your children a chance at a better life. On that score Cruise succeeds admirably. She does a very good job with the setting. The story - well not so much. But I'm a big enough person to know that my personal preference underpants are showing - so you be the judge.

A Vietnamese psychic turns up dead in her home in Little Saigon in Westminster, California. The scene is a blood bath - the victim's eyes have been cut out (ewwww!) and the killer drew pictures on the wall with her blood. However the corker is the severed head of the victim's pet bird shoved in her mouth. So yeah, the crimes are a touch grisly. In walk the lead detectives, Stephen "Seven" Bushard and Erika Cabral. They soon discover a rare "bead" at the crime scene. The kind of bead that would have been taken from a necklace. Turns out that necklace has a long history - one wrapped up in immortality and ancient civilizations.

Enter local artist Gia Moon. Gia is a psychic and is getting disturbing visions about the crime. She goes to the precinct only to have Seven and Erika treat her like a looney toon. Naturally more stuff happens, Seven finds himself attracted to Gia - blah, blah, blah.

Most of this story works, unfortunately the author tends to focus the story on the stuff that doesn't. Namely Gia. She is by far the least interesting woman in this story, and for a long time she is off-stage. She doesn't play a significant role until the last 100 pages or so, which is a problem since I think I'm supposed to care about her. Erika is the show here. She's smart, sexy and a straight shooter. Her only vice is that she seems to go for one-night stands. She likes sex, but doesn't want the commitment. The last thing she wants is a "needy man." She knows her behavior is wrapped up in her relationship with her father, but she's smart enough to say, "Well f*ck it."

This is the woman I want to read about. Not some lame-o psychic who isn't telling the hero, Seven, the whole story. Is it because I was officially "over" psychic heroines about 5 years? Maybe. But the fact is that Gia just pales in comparison and not enough is devoted to her to make me change my mind.

Seven is very interesting. His older brother was the "Golden Boy" in the family. Beautiful wife, loving son, a seemingly thriving plastic surgery practice. One small problem though - he's gay and having an affair with his male nurse. One thing leads to another and ultimately the nurse ends up dead and Golden Boy goes to jail. Seven is left to pick up the pieces.

There's a lot of stuff going on among the characters' lives that isn't wrapped up neatly. Does Seven's sister-in-law climb out of the bottle? Does Erika give her last one-night stand a chance at really getting to know her? Do Seven and Gia hook up or are they too damaged by the events of the story? Will Seven and Erika's partnership survive? Who knows? It's all left hanging a bit. The start of a series, perhaps?

The suspense thread is decent, but only if you're looking for the type of story where the reader knows all the details before the characters. The selling point on the story seems to be the paranormal, ancient Greece and psychic "stuff" - and speaking for myself here - that's just not enough anymore. Sure I loved the setting, and I adored Seven and Erika - but on the other hand we have a tendency to info-dump and Gia. Basically I was rewriting this book in my head as I was reading it.

But most of this falls under personal preference. I'm sure there are readers who will be fine with Gia. Readers who aren't burnt out on psychic heroines. As for how to classify this story? That's the tricky part. Mira simply labeled this a "novel" and I'd be very hard pressed to call it romantic suspense since we don't get much resolution to the Gia/Seven relationship. It's more like a suspense novel with some paranormal stuff tossed in. This seems the most likely given the cover quote provided by John Lescroart. Not a name that leaps to mind when you want a quote for anything labeled romantic.

Final Verdict = The setting is great and I hope Cruise continues to mine Orange County. Also, I liked some of the characters quite a bit. Now if we could just get past this paranormal trend. Final Grade = C+

I Love My Sister

A conversation many moons ago...

Older Sis: Have you seen the movie Beauty Shop?

Me: Can't say that I have. (Since this conversation, I have)

Older Sis: Oh girl, there's this scene where Queen Latifah knocks on this guy's door and he answers it with no shirt on. It's worth the price of a rental. What is that guy's name? You know, the African guy from Amistad. (My sister is horrible with actor's names)

Me: Ah, Djimon Hounsou - AKA the only reason I can sit through Gladiator. Yeah, he is fine.

Older Sis: Watch the movie.

So in honor of me finally getting a hair cut this past weekend, I thought we should all bask in the glow of Djimon. Yeah, yeah - he's a good actor, but honestly, we're women and all we care about are hot men that look good naked. Frankly, I'd get my hair cut a lot more often if there was a chance I could look upon a specimen as fine as Djimon. I should be so lucky.

And in other news (like you care after getting an eyeful of Djimon) I'm still not reading. Must get my ass in gear since new review books showed up over the weekend.

Inner Child

Last night I put on hold the fact that I'm 31 years old and watched the Curious George movie. Actually, what makes it all the more shocking is that The Boyfriend turned it on while channel surfing and kept it there. We watched the whole movie.

Curious George is one of the greatest children's book characters ever written. He brings out a child-like innocence in all of us. That time in our lives when everything was exciting and new. It also helps that George gets into all kinds of trouble - trouble that every kid wishes they had the nerve to start except they're afraid they'll get in trouble. With George, it's cute and also unexpected. You just don't know what that naughty little monkey will do next.

The movie is definitely geared towards little kids, which I think Ron Howard got some flak for. Seriously though, isn't it nice to just see a G-rated movie every now and then? And Lord knows there are so few these days. This one was cute, sweet, and dang I smiled the whole way through it. You can't watch Curious George and be a piss pot. Not possible.

Making The Rounds

Be sure to stop by Romancing the Blog today, as our own lovely Uruguayan diva, Rosario, has a very interesting column up.

Alison Kent has a couple of goodies - first a column by guest blogger, Megan Hart and a chance to win free books! What's not to love about that?

Ellen Fisher's husband passed away this week. No one should die from cancer, but especially a 40-year-old man with a lovely wife and four young children. I literally gasped when I got the news through one of my e-mail loops yesterday. My heart just bleeds for her.

In much happier news - I got a new computer at work yesterday! It's pleasure overload here. You have no idea the hunk of crap they had me working on. My computer now operates at a normal speed and I have a flat screen, flat panel monitor! The Internet has never looked so good.

I also got my Amazon order in this weekend. I finally ordered Sarah McCarty's Promises trilogy (although I hear more books in this series are planned). I know, it's shocking I didn't own these before now. They're smutty and they're westerns! It's the best of both worlds people! Of course, who the heck knows when I'll actually get to reading them. I also finally ordered my own copy of The Crossroads Cafe by Deborah Smith. I read a library copy and it ended up being a keeper. I went on a severe Deb Smith buying binge afterwards but like an idiot I forgot to order TCC. Duh. Problem solved now.

And in case anyone is wondering, I'm in a horrible slump. It's all me, and not the book I'm reading (which I'm enjoying). I just am not reading. Anything. Not even cereal boxes. I've discovered that the only way to get past this is to "force myself" to sit and pick up the book. Otherwise I'll just keep not reading and really that's too horrifying to think about.

Too Cool For School

I'm thinking of declaring my blog a J.R. Ward-free zone.

Most of my regular blog-hopping haunts seem to be in pleasure overload ever since Lover Whatever came out and I find my eyes glazing over like I'm reading the latest tax codes.

I have nothing against Ms. Ward herself. I'm sure she's a lovely person, and I hope she's making oodles of money. I'm sure she deserves her success. I'm just bloody sick of hearing about her books. I don't care people - and by now you should all know it's all about me!

But I shouldn't pick on the Brotherhood. I had the exact same reaction with Devil In Winter by Lisa Kleypas and when that Suzanne Brockmann book came out - the one about Sam and Alyssa. How sad is that - I don't read Brockmann and I know her character(s) names. Tomorrow I get a life.

So my question is - can there be too much buzz? Normally I don't think so, unless the reader reading (and being inundated by said buzz) could give a flying fig. The Ward books do not work for me. I can understand why they work for others, but again - just not for me. So I'm already turned off, therefore when I keep reading buzz I tend to get annoyed. It's sort of like American Idol. I hate "reality shows" with a burning, seething passion (I think there might be an ointment for this) so I find myself slowly dying inside every time AI is mentioned on the radio, Internet, and television. It also makes me feel dirty that I like a couple of Kelly Clarkson songs.

Since I seem to be in a cranky mood today (blame it on an icky stomach and too little sleep), I thought we could all be cranky together. What authors/books are you just tired of hearing about? You don't care. You want people to shut up already.

Side note: I know I'm being a hypocrite. I mean, I won't shut up about westerns, so who am I to judge? But c'mon - this will be fun! And I know any authors that read this blog probably won't comment on the "who/what you're sick of hearing about" thing, but you can comment on the "is there such a thing as too much buzz" thing. So dish.

Da U.P. Eh!

By my calculations the only Harlequin "series" I'm caught up on is Carrie Alexander's excellent North Country Stories series for Harlequin SuperRomance. This is likely two-fold: 1) She's writing these very slowly and 2) I'm homesick. The last book in the series (the excellent, and RITA nominated, A Family Christmas) came out in 2004.

Longtime readers of this blog know that I'm from Michigan, although nowhere near the Upper Peninsula, which is where this series takes place. But it's Michigan-set, and I'm not picky. Besides, the U.P. is very lovely. There ain't a whole lot up there, but it's lovely.

I picked up A Ready-Made Family at Borders Express this weekend, and while the back cover copy is worthy of eye-rolling (a bit cliche sounding, even for Harlequin), I have yet to be disappointed in this series. I know she's busy writing for Blaze, but dang Carrie, keep my North Country stories coming! (And update your web site - hint, hint)

Plot Description:

Lia Howard Pogue is flat broke and on the run. Her only hope for a new start is to rely on the kindness of strangers. One in particular—the rough and tough ex-Army Ranger who's all hard muscle and soft heart.

Jake Robbin is more than ready to put his wild youth behind him and settle down. If only he could skip the hassle of courtship and babies and messy emotions. What better time for Lia and her three kids to land on his doorstep!

Seems marriage would solve both their problems. Until Lia's ex shows up…and reminds her she could be making the same mistake all over again.

While the first book in the series is enjoyable (North Country Man) it's books 2 and 3 that stood out for me. Romance reading librarians should take note of Three Little Words, that features a librarian heroine working in the very small town where the series is set. If you've ever worked for small/rural libraries, or frequented them, Alexander hits all the right notes. A Family Christmas is great because it featured one of my favorite series regulars - the heroine who is an outsider and black sheep-type. I adore outsider characters to bits, and Wild Rose was one of my favorites.

And of course since I'm a ruthless weeder, I donated/traded this entire series without saving it. When will I learn? Which means I'll have to make a trip to my favorite UBS that stockpiles series romance soon.

A Scene From A Bookstore

A sunny, warm day with a high sky. Intrepid superhero in disguise as a mild-mannered librarian enters her favorite bookstore. Upon discovering the rack of series romance, she proceeds to pick up titles that are typed out on her shopping list.

Librarian: "I need more Harlequins like a hole in the head."
Bookseller: "Oh yeah, look at me trying to stop you honey."

Yeah, I went to the used bookstore yesterday and yes I bought more Harlequins. Like I need more. I have an entire Rubbermaid tote devoted to just my series stash. The truly sad thing is that I've actually weeded it a couple of times in the last two years. I'm that pathetic.

I'm at the point where my TBR mountain range is starting to intimidate me. I just look at it and have no clue where to begin. Yeah, I was a good monkey and plowed through 4 books in 4 days last week - but I came back from the UBS with 10 more to add. I think it might be time for an intervention. Or at the very least I need to stop watching TV. And while I'm at it, unplug the DSL. This computer is a total time suck.

I also haven't been reading on the weekends. I mean, wouldn't you think this would be prime reading time? I'm currently not reading The Collector by Cameron Cruise. While The Boyfriend is watching horrible movies on TV, I really should invest some time in it.

The Lady And The Jackass

Dirty little secret time - I secretly love to read romances with jackass heroes. You know the ones. The catch (and you knew there was one didn't you?), is that the only way I can "enjoy" a jackass hero is if he's paired with an equally headstrong heroine. No mealy-mouthed, afraid of her own shadow types. No, I need the chick who's going to tell the guy to his face that he's a jackass and for good measure knee him in the nuts (although this never seems to happen - romance authors must think it's a "mood killer")

And that's pretty much what I got with my latest dip in the Harlequin Historical pool - Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane. The hero has a precious, pampered 17-year-old daughter who is in lurve with the schoolmarm's dirt-poor 18-year-old brother. Daddy is unthrilled about this, but so is the heroine (said schoolmarm). She was saving money for her brother to go to college back east, not hitch his wagon to some spoiled princess. So hero storms in to meet heroine, says awful things, tells her to control her brother (ha! he's 18!!), then proceeds to act like a jackass. Brother and Pampered Daughter are actually pregnant, and run away to get married. They come back to town, move in with heroine, while hero proceeds to cut them out of his life while secretly trying to "help" them (he hides money in her clothes when he ships them over to this daughter etc.)

Hero and heroine end up spending time together because of this new predicament. He says awful things, she says awful things, they bicker a lot, then (naturally) the sexual tension hits the red zone. I know I'm making it sound hideous, but it really works - trust me.

Unfortunately, it all takes a dive in the final 100 pages or so. Instead of the hero groveling (which is the only reason to read about jackass heroes in my opinion) the heroine is the one to apologize (oh honey, he's the one who should have bloody knees) and there's this big, unnecessary melodramatic ending involving the hero's daughter giving birth in a cave and a kidnapping. Completely unnecessary and tacked on. It's like someone told the author that internal, character driven conflict wasn't enough - that she had to punch it up with a "villain." So what started out as a B+ read, slips down to a B-.

Still love me a good jackass hero though.

Gamblin' Man

The Harlequin Historical bender continues!

Winning Jenna's Heart by Charlene Sands opens up with spinster Jenna Duncan nursing a man back to the health. She found him shot and slowly bleeding to death near her property and she takes one look at his battered face and "realizes" it's her intended, Blue Montgomery. She's never seen blue eyes quite as brilliant as Blue's, and even though they haven't seen each other since they were kids, they've been pen pals for years. The plan was for him to leave his war-ravaged home back East, marry her, and build a life together on her dilapidated farm in Oklahoma Territory.

The man does wake up, but can't remember a darn thing. Is he this Blue Montgomery? Well, since the back cover copy spoils it for you, I'll just say it - no, he's not. But before he realizes that, he finds himself smitten with Jenna. When his memory returns to him, it shatters her dreams. The man she loved, the man she built her dreams around, is really Cash Callahan, a gambler! A worthless, no good gambler just like her worthless no good brother!

This story works on a lot of levels. Sure Jenna is tarring and feathering Cash with a broad brush, but the girl has her reasons. Her brother has literally put her life in danger because of his gambling. It's not an easy prejudice for her to overcome. Plus, when she learns the truth - the entire story of how Cash came to be on her farm - well she's heartsick.

Cash feels indebted to Jenna. Not only is he smitten with her, but she's done more for him than anyone ever has. He wants to repay her, even if she can't stand to look at him. So he stays, if only to help her get her crops planted. She loves her farm, and she needs his help to make it a success.

I really enjoyed this story. Yeah, Jenna gets a bit uppity at times, but it sure is nice to watch Cash weasel his way into her heart. A very good, very solid story. Final Grade = B+.

Cowboy Up

I'm still on a Harlequin Historical reading binge, and yesterday I zipped through The Tracker by Mary Burton. Technically not an HH title, it was a "special release" for the on-going Montana Mavericks series. But it looks like an HH, smells like an HH, and reads like one - so I say it's an HH.

Burton is a little hit or miss for me because, while I tend to love her heroines, her heroes have a tendency to be a bit rough around the edges. I've enjoyed some of her books more than others, and after finishing The Tracker I've decided I really need to hunt up the missing titles of her back list that I never got around to getting. She's very consistent.

Nick Baron is the baddest bounty hunter in the west. Outlaws fear him, which is just the way he likes it, but so do decent folk. He's growing weary of the lifestyle, so decides that maybe it's time to hang up his spurs. Then his best friend gets killed during a train robbery, and Nick decides to hunt down the outlaws responsible.

The outlaws are holed up in a brothel in Butte, Montana. One of the brothers married a sporting girl, and she's very pregnant. Waiting outside for the meaner brother to show up, Nick literally runs into a woman fleeing the house with a baby in her arms. He lets her go, because by this time the villain has shown up, shot his brother for swindling him out of his half of the gold, and the man escapes.

Nick soon figures out that the woman with the baby is his only clue to that missing gold and the outlaw still at large. Ellie Watson delivered the baby, although the mother died when she began hemorrhaging. She begged Ellie to keep the baby safe and raise her as her own. Ellie, while raised in the brothel, only worked in the kitchens and somehow managed to keep herself from working "upstairs." The baby's mother, Jade, was really the brains behind the outlaws and Nick figures that she told Ellie (the last person to see her alive) where the gold was stashed. But if Nick thinks that, so does the outlaw who is still at large - and Ellie is in danger.

Ellie ran to a coach stop, where she works and lives with the baby. Nick shows up, she gets frightened and shoots him (who says this girl needs protecting?). Thinking that Nick is a marshal, and fearful that she'll hang (plus she's a nice girl), she nurses him back to health.

This is a fairly conventional story written in a clean style. It's extremely readable, and I zipped through the majority of it on my lunch break. Ellie's nice, Nick is nice, and the villain is suitably villainous. The only quibble here is that the ending is very abrupt. Basically it's bang, bang, The End. Normally I can take or leave epilogues, but dang this story needs one bad. Because of that, it felt incredibly rushed towards the end and knocked my final grade down to a B-.

Simple Instructions

Besides the fact that they still regularly publish westerns, another reason I love Harlequin Historical books so much is that I can typically plow through one in a day. When I read faster, I read more, and am able to temporarily delude myself into thinking I'm actually making progress on the TBR mountain range that's taken up residence in my home office.

Unfortunately I hit a skid of Her Lone Protector by Pam Crooks. A book I should have finished in a day took me the better part of the weekend to get through. Why? Because of the idiot heroine. The rest of the book is great. The setting and writing are well done - and while the hero tends to be a little too rah-rah patriotic for me at times, it's the idiot actions of the heroine that sink what could have been a good read for me. The worst part of it was - she didn't have to be a moron.

Creed Sherman is a mercenary for the U.S. government. Basically he's like the CIA, Secret Service and a marine all rolled into one. After years away from his family, he comes home to Los Angeles to finally marry his sweetheart - only to discover she's already married to his father! That's mildly icky. Creed is naturally unthrilled, of course the asshole hasn't written home in like 6 years - but hey, he's not at fault! He can't believe she didn't wait for him (dumb ass - if you want the woman to wait for you try finding a mail box on occasion).

Anyway, he heads back to town to discover a local factory on fire (think the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory). He rushes into help with the rescue when he meets Gina Briganti, a beautiful Italian immigrant who was separated from her mother. Creed vows to protect Gina and find her mother. See, Gina witnessed two unhappy Russian immigrants (both anarchists) deliberately set the fire. Plus, President McKinley is scheduled to come to town, and the government has gotten wind that his life is in danger. So Creed sets out to save the President, protect Gina and find her mother.

I don't expect my heroines to be Super Women. They don't need to know Jedi mind tricks, kung fu, or how to shoot an Uzi. However, I expect a little common sense. When Creed tells Gina to "stay put" what do you think our heroine does? Of course - she goes off half-cocked, almost gets herself killed, and Creed has to keep saving her. She doesn't do this once, or twice - but three times. See Wendy's eyes glaze over.

I suspect the author did this to ratchet up the conflict - which was totally unnecessary. Gina saw the bad guys set the fire. Frankly, isn't that enough? Do we really need her putting on a pathetic disguise and infiltrating an anarchist meeting? Or riding up to the hide-out while Creed is confronting (and almost catching) the bad guys? Or do we need her running off in the climax because she finally found out what hospital her mother is at - and instead of waiting until Creed does his job she gets abducted by the bad guys thus putting her worthless hide in danger, as well as Creed's, the President's, and a few secondary characters. Your mother is fine cupcake, just do as you're told for 5 bloody minutes.

Seriously, why didn't he just nail her feet to the floor?

So what we have here is technically a western, although the Los Angeles setting gives it a nice urban feel, some good writing, and a heroine I want to strangle. Not a good mix. Final Grade = D+.

Capitol Hill

One would think with my mounting TBR-anxiety and my collection of unread books that I would have given up reviewing ages ago. However, I do keep up with it for one simple reason: reviewing exposes me to authors and titles I probably wouldn't have touched otherwise.

Such is the case with Damage Control by Robert Dugoni. I'm glad I read it, since even though this is only his second fiction title, he has a nice healthy request list here at work. After wrapping this one up this morning I've come to the conclusion that it's the perfect library book. I'm glad I didn't pay $24.99 (hard cover) for it, but if I had picked it up while browsing the library shelves I wouldn't have been too upset. It's not perfect, but it's readable, making it a slightly above average read.

Dana Hill is about one step away from a meltdown. She has a beautiful 3-year-old daughter, but her marriage is a sham. Her husband takes the words "selfish jackass" to new levels. She's a lawyer with a demanding boss just itching to fire her, and now her doctor is telling her that the lump she found in her breast is malignant. Oh, and did I mention she gets a call that night from the police? Her twin brother, James, was beaten to death in his home when he walked in on a couple of burglars.

Dana is sure her brother's death wasn't random. For one thing, James owned nothing of value. He literally gave away all his worldly possessions when he quit private practice and became a law professor. Then, while she's packing up James' things she discovers a clue. A beautiful, one-of-a-kind earring. A bit of a shock since Dana didn't even know James was seeing anybody.

So Dana postpones cancer treatment to get answers and quickly comes across an ally in Detective Mike Logan. This is where the story gets bumpy. Logan allows her to keep the earring in her possession even after they find out that it's very important in solving James' murder. Um, don't most cops tend to keep evidence at the station? Then after Dana's snooping has serious consequences (I think 2 dead bodies counts as serious), Logan continues to let her freely walk around, and with him, playing amateur detective. Um, I don't personally know any cops, but I'm thinking they aren't in the habit of letting civilians investigate on their own, or with another cop. Period.

The police angle on this is pretty sloppy, in my opinion, but Dana saves the day. I'm always impressed by romance authors who get fictional male characters "right," and likewise with male authors who get fictional female characters "right." Dugoni hits all the right notes with Dana. She's been Super Woman - she works full time, takes care of her daughter and gets zero help from her selfish husband. She knows her marriage is in the crapper, but she's unwilling to admit that to herself for the sake of her daughter. It takes extreme circumstances for her to wake up.

The rest of the secondary characters are, unfortunately, pretty one-dimensional, although there are some stand out scenes featuring a servant character. That said, this was an undemanding read that kept me flipping the pages. I'm not sorry I read it, but it's not quite enough for me to keep track of Dugoni. I wouldn't suggest running out and buying it, but if you're bored and see it on the library shelf you could do a lot worse. Final Grade = C+.

We Love Meeces To Pieces

When I escaped into the Land Of Library Administration, I left a semi-falling down public library building to come work in a pretty nice office building. We're located in what could be called an industrial park. An industrial park that used to be fairly open, and was apparently home to a horde of field mice. Every once and a while the little stinkers decide they want to move in.

They're currently setting up house in our cataloging department, where they've become quite comfortable. They've taken to crawling up on desks while the people are sitting there working! Yes ladies and gentlemen, another reason to not become a cataloger. Like you needed another reason right?

(Seriously, I got nothing against catalogers. They're great people, but it is a job I know I am not cut out for even though I love working alone and sort of enjoy mindless data entry work. That said, catalogers are all about details - sometimes bizarre, wacky details that make little sense, which is why I'd be ill-suited for that job.)

On the reading front, I'm smack in the middle of Damage Control by Robert Dugoni. This is his second legal thriller, and according to the press release I got, he sold four books to Warner right out of the gate. The guy just kept writing, then preceded to clean out his desk drawer when he got the contract.

This also happens to be my last "review book" until a new stash arrives and I'm conflicted on how I'll spend the down time. Part of me wants to dig through some romantic suspense and mystery novels. Another part of me is jonesin' for a Harlequin binge, and yet another part of me is thinking I should whittle down my growing stack of trade paperbacks. Right now I'm leaning towards Harlequin, only because I have a whole Rubbermaid tote devoted to them, and I can zip through a couple a day. Gives me the illusion that I'm actually making progress on the TBR. Ha!