The Power of Sisterhood

I have two sisters and the longer I live the more I think we're a trio of freaks. Oh sure, we had the typical, petty childhood squabbles - but there's never been any real rifts between us. I suspect because we know when to keep our mouths shut. That and we recognize our differences. What's good for one of us, wouldn't necessarily be good for the others. We live our own lives, we love each other, and it's blessedly drama free.

Michelle Moran's extremely accomplished debut, Nefertiti, tells the story of the Egyptian queen through the eyes of her younger sister, Mutnodjmet. Mutny narrates the story in first person, and what a story it is! One of power, intrigue, life, death and betrayal. It as all the ingredients of a steamy summer beach-read and better yet? It's steeped in Egyptian history (with some liberties, naturally - hey this is fiction) so you don't have to feel guilty for loving it.

Nefertiti was raised in a royal family and always knew her place was the marry the Pharaoh. Unfortunately the young prince that everyone likes dies, and Nefertiti is chosen to marry the impetuous, spoiled younger brother Amunhotep. Amunhotep's mothers thinks Nefertiti will be able to control her son. Instead Nefertiti sees it as her chance to become the "people's princess." To be remembered for all eternity, and secure her place in history. And if that means placating an unstable young Pharaoh, desecrating temples, and declaring that Egypt will worship a new god - well so be it.

Mutny doesn't want power. She's the plain, quiet, contemplative sister. The sister who never lies, and the sister who Nefertiti will never allow to leave her side. Then Mutny makes the fatal mistake of falling in love with a man who threatens the Pharaoh's power - and everything changes.

This is a dense historical novel that takes a little time to get into. I think it helps if the reader has a fascination with Egyptian history. Personally, I do not - and it wasn't until Mutny falls in love and actions lead to grave consequences that this book really started to cook for me. There aren't a whole lot of "likable" characters here - except for Mutny who is caught between her family's destiny and her own desires for a simple life. Nefertiti is a total bitch witch, a selfish girl who grows up to be a selfish adult. Mutny is pretty much subject to her will, until something happens to sever their relationship - and there's a kick-ass confrontation scene. However as the story carries on, the reader sees Nefertiti in her own power struggle. Fearful of assassination and a husband whose rash actions could spell their certain doom.

This is a really grand novel, and one that's just the ticket for readers looking for strong historical detail. It's also intriguing to read about characters so young (Nefertiti is 15 when the story opens), but who wield so much power. My only real quibble is that I would have liked a bit more detail about Mutny and her developing relationship with the army general who captures her heart. It just sort of "happens." Still, it's a very compelling story, and one that had me tearing through the final half of this novel this evening.

Lay down date is July 10, and it's a hardcover. Frankly I think it's well worth the $24.95 investment for you historical fiction fans and I'm glad I left my comfort zone and gave this book a whirl. Final Grade = B+

The Perfect Man

Room Service by Amy Garvey is an endangered species. A straight-up contemporary romance with no vampires, no werewolves, no serial killers and no women's fiction "issues." Remember those? Contemporary romances?

Olivia Callender inherited the Callender Hotel when her father passed away. Unfortunately she has as much business sense as a fruit cake because even with incredibly low rates, and being in the heart of New York City, business is not booming. Why? Because Olivia is suffering from a fatal case of nostalgia. She sees charm where everyone else sees no room service, a restaurant menu that hasn't been updated since 1955, ugly carpeting, worn upholstery, peeling paint and no wireless Internet access.

One day, while daydreaming (naturally), she almost gets run over by a taxi. Rhys Spencer - a hunky Brit who can cook (making him the perfect man) rescues her. Rhys is one of the finalists in Fork In The Road, a competitive reality cooking show. Filming is on hiatus for a month, and anxious to get away from Los Angeles, he decides a month in New York is just the ticket. Then he rescues Olivia and is immediately smitten. He checks in to her hotel.

To round out the story we have a bunch of eccentric hotel residents and employees, and Olivia's dastardly Uncle Stuart who wants the hotel for himself so he can make a killing with it on the real estate market (and with the real estate prices in NYC, can we blame him?).

This story is not without it's charms, but it has problems - most notably Olivia who drove me half crazy for the first 100 pages. She's so incredibly clueless that it's hard to take her seriously. I kept saying to myself, "This is a businesswoman?!" She won't change anything because it's "original" and that's how it was when she lived at the hotel as a child. Blah, blah, blah, moron. Luckily around page 100 Rhys shags the heck out of her and the incredible orgasms open her eyes. She begins to see that the hotel is falling down around her and sets into motion plans to renovate and drum up business.

Rhys is very yummy. He's hot, he can cook and he's British. That should be enough, right? However, with so much focus on Olivia and her saving the hotel, not much time is devoted to Rhys on a deeper level. There's brief mention of an ex-girlfriend and his mother, who has lied to him his whole life - but none of this is ever dealt with. Mommy Dearest does show up briefly towards the end, but why? Her and Rhys don't resolve anything. Heck, they don't even "talk." It's like she's there just to ratchet up a bit of conflict, but ultimately it fizzles like a camp fire during a thunderstorm.

A final word - none of which has to do with the author, or the writing of this book, I'm just musing out loud - publishers need to realize one thing; readers don't know or care much about word count. We look at the number of pages, and Room Service is a whopping 260 pages (ARC count) with 19 pages of previews for upcoming Brava releases tacked on at the end. And it's a trade paperback selling for $14.00. I know a lot of readers practically dying for straight-up contemporary romances these days, but are they dying enough to pay $14.00? Brava is betting on it.

Personally, while I found Room Service fun, it is a bit on the slight side. I think it would have made a smashing category romance (it's damn near perfect for the now defunct Harlequin Temptation line), but it feels a bit lacking for a full-length single title. Maybe if Garvey had explored Rhys' baggage more, or beefed up the secondary romance (which is very promising), I wouldn't be left with this "nice meal, but not enough on the plate" feeling.

So what are we left with? I liked it, with some quibbles. I also think Garvey has a perfect voice for category romance, but not sure if Harlequin has a line left that's a good fit for her. Blaze, maybe? Man, I really miss the Temptation line.

Final Grade = B-

Love Me! Validate Me!

Janet over at Dear Author weighs in on the Romance Is Never Reviewed Seriously debate. The death of book review sections in many of the nation's newspapers has been hotly debated for months now. I can't believe I'm the only one surprised by this turn of events, but apparently, I am. Who knew?

Newspapers killed the book review section by ignoring the main reason why people want to read - the entertainment factor. I'm not sure how it is in other countries, but here in the U.S., we seemed determined to squash all the fun out of reading. Here's a newsflash folks - people aren't reading like they used to because it's been drilled into their heads that they should only read to "learn something." That fiction with any sort of "fun factor" isn't legitimate. So instead of going to their doctor to get a prescription for Prozac, they stop reading. Period.

I'm not saying that serious lit-ra-ture doesn't have it's place. It does. But it's not the end all be all. Hey, I like to watch serious costume dramas - but I also like action movies. Both worlds can coexist - but to look at the newspaper book coverage they obviously don't think so. This sort of nonsense trickles down until we're eventually stuck with librarians who turn their nose up at genre (OK, romance) fiction. It bothers me. A lot. Then I'm stuck sharing my profession with librarians that I have fantasies about strangling (OK, not really - but I'm easily frustrated).

That said, I don't see a future where romance is widely respected. While mystery has gained some ground, even that genre still gets some sneers. Genre fiction by it's very nature is suspect. That somehow the authors are merely stringing words together and filling out a paint-by-numbers template. Personally I've felt this opinion among the literary "elite" boils down to one thing. Money. People like to read "fun" books and "fun" books make money. What would you rather read - a doom and gloom book where everybody commits suicide at the end, or a thrilling murder mystery where the protagonist saves the day? Yeah, me too. In fact, I think most people would.

I can't be bothered with "respect" for genre fiction, but I can understand how frustrating it is for the authors. They work hard. And to have that hard work sneered at, to have people say, "When are you going to write a real book?" - well it's frustrating as all hell. I get that. But as a reader - I personally can't be bothered. I've taken to telling people to "get bent" - which is probably wrong of me, but I lost my sense of humor on this subject about 10 years ago.

But even if the New York Times decided to put on latex gloves and a surgical mask to avoid The Love Cooties and started reviewing romance - I'm not entirely sure the genre is ready for it. Half the fun of romance (and I'm talking good romance novels here) is that it's subversive. The heroine gets the guy, gets the life, wins in the end. The feminist in me loves this. When romance is bad - well I look longingly at the bleach I keep in my laundry room and think about mixing a cocktail. Which leads us to the question - how do readers find a good romance?

Online. They talk to other readers, read online reviews, visit blogs - all of which are vibrant, exciting and probably wouldn't exist if the New York Times and others weren't so dang snobby. So if you think about it - we should probably be thanking them. I honestly believe the online romance community wouldn't be flourishing if we weren't sneered at and treated like something the literary world stepped in.

Ultimately in order for romance to be taken seriously a lot of change has to take place. Publishers need to scale back on their production schedule, the copy editing needs to improve (although honestly, this isn't a huge issue for yours truly), and no more half-naked, greased up beef cake. I'm sorry, you can't take any book seriously if it's got Fabio leering out from the cover at you. But does romance want any of this to happen? My guess? Not really.

Romance readers have an insatiable appetite for the genre, so publishers are probably not anxious to scale back their production schedules. As for copy editing? Frankly it's bad all over - not just within the romance genre. This is more of a quality control issue and until readers start taking their complaints straight to the publisher(s), en masse, it ain't going to change. So start that letter writing campaign now Punctuation Police. And Fabio and his harem of wannabes? Do the books sell because of the covers or in spite of them? Probably no way to answer that question, and I'm sure publishers (OK, men who work in publishing) think the books sell because of them. Plus for every reader who hates the Fabio-clinch covers there is another reader who loves them. I think we're stuck with him, for good or ill.

Do I see a solution to this debate? Not really. Mainstream, literary criticism and reviews are never going to welcome romance into the fold. Accepting some mystery was a huge step for them, and I think they're still experiencing a case of the vapors over it. I'm a pessimist by nature, and one could deduce from the post that I'm "part of the problem." That as a librarian I should be fighting the good fight and banging on doors. I am - just on a smaller scale. I know how much power I have (the answer = not a whole lot), so I'm stuck trying to change my little corner of the world. Which is how most change happens regardless of the topic.

Instead of knocking on the door of the New York Times and banging our head against the wall - romance should find a way to open up serious debate and criticism within it's own walls. We should make our own New York Times. Will it ever happen? It kind of already has. Just look around online.

But ultimately the real question is do romance readers and authors want serious criticism? Do they want The Debate? My guess? No. The genre is too "fun" and that's why a good many readers read romance. Criticism and debate is not (nor will it ever be) "fun." Which begs the question - why are we even concerned about the New York Times and other newspapers reviewing the genre when it's not really what we want to begin with?

Damn, That's Hot

I love pulp mysteries. I'm not sure why. My father is of the generation that "grew up" on these - but he doesn't read fiction. Although, we did spend a lot of quality Daddy-Daughter time when I was a kid watching Perry Mason TV movies. Maybe that's where I get it?

I love everything about pulp - the tough guy characters, the femme fatales, the noir atmosphere, the cover art, just the whole style that goes with them.

But as much as I love them, there ain't a whole lot of pulp out there featuring female protagonists or written by women. No more! Those wonderful folks over at Hard Case Crime (very awesome, check 'em out) are publishing Christa Faust's Money Shot in February 2008. She will be the first woman that the line has published - so kudos to you girlfriend!

Description:

They thought she'd be easy. They thought wrong.

It all began with the phone call asking former porn star Angel Dare to do one more movie. Before she knew it, she’d been shot and left for dead in the trunk of a car. But Angel is a survivor. And that means she’ll get to the bottom of what’s been done to her even if she has to leave a trail of bodies along the way...

Damn, that's hot. Seriously I'd be preordering this bad girl today if Amazon had it listed (which they don't yet - bastards!). I haven't been this happy since I discovered cheesecake. I can so not wait until February!

Book Nazi

Hey, it's Friday - and who doesn't need a little diversion on Friday? Let us spend time with Dexter, everybody's favorite boy genius, who takes things a wee bit too far when he's left in charge of the school library.



No book for you!

Penicillin Martini

Lord help me, I like Thea Devine. Seductive was the first "erotic" book I'd ever read, and despite it's legions of problems, I found myself hooked on the decadent sex and over-the-top soap opera plot. When Devine is good (and she can be good), her plots are enough to make Aaron Spelling roll over in his grave. When she's bad (and she can be very bad), her books are unreadable. She tends to gravitate towards convoluted suspense threads and a writing style filled with stream of consciousness babble, italics and paragraphs that consist of one word.

Yes.

Really.

Oh yeah.

It's that writing style that had me staying away from her more recent turn at contemporaries. I can get past that sort of thing when she's writing in Victorian England, but in contemporary times? Not so much. So imagine my surprise to discover that her writing style is reined in considerable in Bad As She Wants To Be. Is it perfect? Heck, no - but not nearly as "out there" as some of her Brava historicals.

There's actually an interesting plot here, but it gets lost in the execution and the indiscriminate sex that becomes increasing hard to overlook. Seriously, I hope the characters had a clinic on speed dial for penicillin shots - because "safe sex" really wasn't in the vocabulary here.

Frannie Luttrell is a nobody from small-town Maine until she pulls a drowning Marianne Nyland out of the water. Marianne, a poor little rich girl, wants to repay Frannie's kindness and decides to show her the time of her life. Rechristened "Frankie," she quickly dumps her pesky virginity and finds herself living the high life in Manhattan. Lots of parties, clothes, men and sex. Lots of sex. Seriously there is so much sex in the first 200 pages of this book I lost track of how many different men Frankie spent time with.

That said, none of that sex is particularly well written and treated rather superficially. Not a whole lot of detail folks. It all comes off as rather cold. Sex certainly doesn't have to be Sunshine Happy Rainbow Feelings, but here it's almost mechanical. The entire affair would have been better served had Devine cut these encounters by (at least) half and devoted more page time to them. Then there is the matter of the pacing.

Pocket has chosen to give away the entire plot in the back cover blurb (to be fair, I'm going by the copy featured on the ARC). A dead body shows up (not until around page 200!) and Frankie becomes tabloid fodder. It's then that she realizes she's only ever wanted one man, a handsome lawyer named Dax, who has little patience for Marianne's excesses or the fact that Frankie gets sucked in. Frankie wants Dax, but if she can't have him? Well she's going to have every other guy in the five boroughs. I'd say you go girl, except that Marianne is so obviously orchestrating everything around her that one questions Frankie's intelligence when she fails (or just doesn't want) to see it.

So how did I like this book? Well even as a Devine fan, I found the sexual excesses a bit "dirty" after a while. Hey, kink is one thing - but Frankie is like a sailor on shore leave in Thailand. I had the overwhelming urge to take a hot shower - with bleach - after every chapter. Not that it wasn't fun to read - but after a while - well it was just a bit extreme. Also, the entire plot seems to show up in the final 100 pages and the ending is abrupt. I really felt the character baggage wasn't entirely resolved. That said, the dead body thing is resolved in such an over-the-top way (Devine can't help, the woman has camp running through her veins) that the reformed soap opera addict in me loved it.

So final grade? I have the hardest time grading Devine because I see the problems in her books, but I always end up enjoying them on some level - so let's go with a C. If you aren't a Devine fan or you've tried and hated her books in the past? This one won't change your mind. It's pretty much par for the course.

Welcome To The Dark Side

Let's get this out of the way upfront - I have a post up at Romancing The Blog today. Read all about why I can't stand it when people whine about "the good old days."

(Here's a hint: Take Off The Rose-Colored Glasses)

Sort of going hand in hand with that, I got a lovely e-mail today from a librarian who works for another library system in the area. She needed help. Why? I converted her. I had given my romance novel reader's advisory talk to some area librarians and she must have been inspired. She tried some, she liked some, and now she's hooked. She had a few questions, and luckily I had a few answers.

Librarians tend to be a snobby bunch. In some cases we can't help it. We spend a lot of time in school (I have two college degrees thankyouverymuch) and given the general snootiness that hangs over academia, anything remotely popular is treated with disdain and a sneer. It's not just romance. The only acceptable mystery is a British one (screw Mary Higgins Clark and James Patterson) and science fiction? It has to be very heavy stuff or have some deep, metaphors buried in the text otherwise it's outta here!

This tends to rub off on librarians. I loved to read as a teenager, although my poison of choice was mystery. But while I was in college (for almost 6 years - and that was quick by most standards!), I think I might have read 5 books for pleasure, all Patricia Cornwell or Mary Higgins Clark novels. I was too busy. Too tired. Too poor. Plus, as most of you college graduates probably already know, there ain't a whole lot of "popular fiction" to be found in academic libraries. There just isn't. They have bigger fish to fry - namely paying ghastly amounts of money for their journals and periodicals.

I think after a while librarians tend to believe our own hype. That just because we suffered through a ridiculous amount of schooling (and have the student loans to prove it) that somehow we're above it all. That popular fiction doesn't have any merit. That we should be educating the public, whether they want to learn something or not.

Basically we lose our sense of humor and make it our life's goal to make everyone else lose theirs as well.

Some librarians get over this (Thank you baby Jesus, I did!), but some don't. I personally know some librarians (who have worked for too many years and just need to retire already!) who are past the point of changing their minds. They'll go to the graves sneering at romance, fantasy and science fiction while they happily lap up the latest P.D. James or reread Agatha Christie.

I know, I don't get it either.

Cripes, there is a lot of stuff I hate (ex. fiction written in the vein of Danielle Steel) but I never, ever sneer at library patrons (or librarians!) who enjoy this sort of thing. Maybe my momma just raised me right, who knows? As it is, as long as librarians spend too much time dying slowly in academia, there will always be "professionals" in my given field who feel this way. No matter how much I want to smack them for being wrong.

In the meantime, I'm stuck tilting at windmills and trying to change the world - one librarian at a time.

MC White Girl

The Lil' Sis is currently depressed over the fact that once my charming brother-in-law finishes his PhD, she could end up living in California. Something about how she can't afford to live out here. I don't know where she's getting that idea? Just because I'm contemplating harvesting one of my kidneys to sell on the black market so me and The Boyfriend can buy a house. I actually think she doesn't want to live that close to me. And can we blame her on that score?

So let's cheer her up! My sister was one of those suburban white girls in high school who adored rap music. And here she is dissing California. I mean, what would Tupac say? Be careful girl or next time I head over to the LBC to scare up some Snoop D.O. Double G.

Little Miss Hypocrisy

The hero in Eden Bradley's The Dark Garden reminds me of a guy I've known since college. Great guy, good looking, smart, funny but with horrible taste in women. You know the type - he always picks the "head case" girls. The girls who need a therapist. Oh sure, women have a habit of wanting to fix men - but believe me, there are more than a few guys out there who think they can "fix" women. As we all know, it never works.

Rowan Cassidy is a Domme (or thinks she is) at the exclusive Club Prive' in Los Angeles. Having wild control issues, she loves playing with the pretty sub boys. Then one night, artist Christian Thorne (such a soap opera name) walks in. Back from Europe, he's looking to reenter the scene and spies Rowan. He has to have her. He also knows that if she's a Domme, he's the King of England. So he challenges her. Be the bottom to his top for 30 days. Learn who she truly is. And in a moment of blind stupidity Rowan agrees.

The problem with this story is strictly Rowan. She once played at being a submissive with a college boyfriend who turned abusive. Naturally she sought comfort from this trauma by becoming a Domme. Understandable, but amazing that no one at the club has called her on her BS until Christian. I don't know much about BDSM, but I'm thinking it's something you don't easily "fake." Whatever. That's not really the worst of it. The worst is that she leads a discussion group at the club for new members - people new to the scene. She tells them that it's OK to be a sub. That subs aren't powerless. That subs actually have a lot of power in the relationship. So why does she spend the whole novel running scared? Because she believes subs have no power! That she'll be powerless if she surrenders to Christian! The girl is talking out of both sides of her mouth.

The reader puts up with this for the entire novel. It gets real old, real quick. The worst is that Rowan doesn't realize what a hypocrite she is until the last chapter when Christian says to her:

"How can you have spent these years in the lifestyle and still think that being submissive equals being weak? Is that what you've told April about it? The other people in your discussion group?"

Bubblehead answers: "No, of course not."

Yummy Christian answers: "It's not any different for you."

By this time I was screaming Well Duh! at the top of my lungs. I knew that the whole stinking novel - so why does it take Bubblehead almost 300 pages to figure it out? Oh yeah, she's a bubblehead.

Seriously, that's the only problem with the novel - but dang it's a doozey. The April in question is Rowan's friend and she's involved in the story's secondary romance. She's half in love with a popular Dom, who's a notorious playboy. Can she love him, then be able to leave him before he breaks her heart? I think we all know the answer to this, but it does end happily.

I really liked Christian a lot, although I had to keep reminding myself he was a Dom and therefore Alpha. He's really sweet, and more understanding than any real man alive. Really, he reminds me a lot of some of my favorite Beta heroes. His only fault was that I couldn't figure out what he saw in Rowan - but that might be because she drove me nuts.

Bradley writes well and I thought her descriptions/scenes were quite lush. I also thought those moments when she dropped the BDSM and wrote straight up love scenes were extremely well done. The tender moments in this novel are very, very good.

That said, I just couldn't wash the bad taste Rowan left out of my mouth. Besides the fact she's "faking" at being a Domme (why the author doesn't make her a switch I don't know), but also her inability to see her own BS drove me insane. I can't recommend it, but I didn't outright hate it. Also, I'd easily give Bradley another shot so Final Grade = C+.

Pantie Raid

Here at the Super Librarian Bat Cave we're all about throwing our panties at deserving Detroit Tigers players. And, of course, the players that have the cutest butts (which is why we do a lot of pantie throwing at Ivan "Pudge" Rodriguez).

But last night, Young Mr. Justin Verlander pitched a no-hitter against a very good Milwaukee Brewers team (I know "very good" and "Brewers" in the same sentence still sounds odd to my ears too). So in honor of the achievement we here at the Bat Cave offer up Justin a 12-Pantie-Salute. So proud, so cute, and with (unfortunately) a pretty cute girlfriend (who came running out on to the field last night and almost tackled him).

Well darn. Even Super Librarians can't win 'em all. Still a Tigers pitcher throwing a no-hitter. Damn near brings a tear to my eye.

Stop Me Before I Shop Again!

I need more books like a hole in the head. In my defense, I got an additional 20% off offer from eHarlequin. Factoring in their already 20% discount, that means I got these books at 40% off. I mean, hello?! I got 5 books for around $25 - and a couple of these are trade paperbacks. Can't beat that. Here they are:

McCavett's Bride By Carol Fitch
This is a western Harlequin Historical. 'Nuff said.










The Company You Keep by Angela Henry
A shout-out to KarenS for this one. Remember those racism in publishing surveys she did a while back (and got some flack for I might add)? Well this was one of the authors she profiled. I had never heard of Angela Henry and her mystery series sounds right up my alley. This is book one.






The Wrong Man For Her by Kathryn Shay (Harlequin SuperRomance 1418)
I have yet to read any of her single titles (yes, they're all in the TBR), but I've had nothing but good luck with Shay's category titles. Whenever she has a new SuperRomance out I just buy it, no questions asked.







Never Say Die and Whistleblower by Tess Gerritsen
These are a couple of her older Harlequin Intrigue (yes, romantic suspense) titles that Harlequin reissued in trade paperback. I love Gerritsen's suspense novels and didn't have either of these yet, so snapped it up. I'm thinking I might take this on the plane trip to RWA/Dallas. Two books, one volume = very handy.






Broken by Megan Hart
I know, it's shocking I didn't run out and buy this on the lay down date. My excuse is that I've been buried under review obligations. For those of you not keeping score, I loved her last book Dirty. Adored it to bits.







Scandalous Lovers by Robin Schone
OK, this one I didn't buy. It just showed up in my office one day. It was mailed straight from Kensington Books. No letter, no post card, just the book. So here I am really confused. I mean, I get books/ARCs at work all the time but usually there's some kind of PR letter or something. Plus, this book came out in February. A little late to be sending them out in June. That's when it dawned on me. I had totally forgotten I had entered a contest on their web site. Duh! I won the contest.



And that's it. That's all the book buying I'm even thinking about doing until well after RWA. Seriously, I need to take a reviewing sabbatical and put a dent in the TBR.

Sugar Hangover

I saw Rosie on Saturday. I found myself with extra copies of a couple of Harlequin Historical westerns and offered them to her. She was so grateful she bought me lunch. At The Cheesecake Factory. Yeah, this story isn't going to end well. We went to Borders afterwards and still high from the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Cheesecake I had, I bought the brand new, hard cover edition of Death By Pantyhose by Laura Levine. Even though I had told myself I wasn't going to. No, I vowed that I would wait for a library copy! So much for my good intentions. Damn Rosie, and damn that cheesecake! (That's my story and I'm sticking to it).

Now this probably makes you think that Laura Levine is a habit I'm trying to kick. On the contrary, I love her books. The problem is they get published in hard cover and she's one of the very (very, very, very) few authors whose books I can devour in one sitting. So here I am shelling out roughly $20 for a book I can zip through in a couple of hours. And try as I might, I always zip. I can never "savor" the experience. I didn't finish Death By Pantyhose in one sitting this time though. No, this time it took me two. I'm convinced this woman has the magic cure for any hard core reading slump.

This is book six in the Jaine Austen (no relation) cozy mystery series. What I love about these books is that they stand alone very well. Not a whole lot of back story clogging up the works. You can start anywhere in this series and not get lost.

Jaine is a free lance writer living in Los Angeles. She's the ultimate outsider in L.A. - she eats like a truck driver and isn't a size 2. This is a girl whose diet might be worse than mine. Anyway, as often happens to Jaine, bad luck meets her early on and her checking account is on life support. So against her better judgment she takes a job writing jokes for a feminist stand-up comic named Dorcas (Dorcas?). Dorcas is about as funny as week old pizza, with her act culminating in her throwing shredded pantyhose out into the audience. She's not funny - and is constantly heckled by Vic, another comic working at the same club. Vic is a grade-A sleaze ball so it's really no surprise to anyone when he turns up dead. Of course, it's a little surprising that he turns up dead with a pair of pantyhose wrapped around his neck - so naturally Dorcas is arrested.

Jaine, not believing for one minute that she's writing jokes for a killer, decides to do some snooping in between the increasingly bizarre e-mails from her parents and several dating disasters with cutie-patootie Andrew The Banker (back from the previous novel, The PMS Murder).

Levine used to write for television, with shows like Laverne & Shirley, The Jeffersons, Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman and The Bob Newhart Show on her resume. So it's not really that shocking that her novels have the zippy quality of a sitcom. Jaine is one disaster after another waiting to happen, and there are always several laugh-out-loud moments in the slim, never over 250 pages, novels. It's sort of like reading a Stephanie Plum without all the tiresome love triangle nonsense. No, Jaine's love life has all the vim and vigor of a morgue, leaving her with a spoiled, fat cat named Prozac as her life partner.

I liked Death By Pantyhose a lot, although this time out more time seems to be spent on Jaine's personal life than the mystery. Still it was a very amusing read and I'm back to square one - waiting another year for the next book to appear. Which I'll probably buy new, in hard cover, again - instead of waiting for a library copy and saving myself the $20. $20 I could spend on cheesecake. When will I learn?

Final Grade = B.

Public Service Announcements

Romantic Advances is running a contest just for authors. While we're in beta phase (and still working out the kinks!) we thought it would be fun to give away ad space. So submit your ad for a chance at some free promo! Hey, what have you got to lose?

Also, be sure to visit Sybil this week as she is spotlighting three Harlequin Historical western authors. If you read this blog with any regularity, you know I love me those HH westerns like fat kids love cake (copyright KarenS). So go forth, read, comment, and open your mind to the reality that if there were more westerns published the world would be a better place. Just saying.

Later today? I hope a book review. If not today, tomorrow.

I'm Famous

Or at least my whining is. Check out Alison Kent's post for today.

And have you checked out Romantic Advances lately? Seriously, we're adding books every day. Yours truly has done her part by making sure all the upcoming naughty Black Lace books have been entered. See, I'm looking out for all of you.

Oh Yeah, This Is Why

I've been reviewing for TRR since 1999. That's a long time. I get tired. I get fed up when the book gods decide they hate me and I have to read several crap books in a row. And believe me, I read every horrible, awful word when I'm reviewing it. I think about drinking Drano. I think about flying to NY and hunting down the editor and beating her bloody. And then, miracles of miracles, cooler heads prevail - usually because the slump breaks and something awesome drops in my lap.

I discovered Lisa Lawrence thanks to reviewing. I believe she was first published in England, and since she doesn't write romance, I'm not sure how many readers of this blog even know she exists. But I love her books, and let me tell you why.

Beg Me is the second book in her Teresa Knight series. Teresa is an odd job specialist - that is to say she isn't a slave to the grind. But every now and then she gets cash flow issues and takes on an investigation for a friend. In the first book, Strip Poker, it meant infiltrating the latest craze among London's elite - strip poker games where anything goes. In Beg Me, it's going undercover in a New York City BDSM cult to find out who murdered her friend.

The story opens in Bangkok where Teresa meets with marginally shady businessman, Jeff Lee. Jeff's sister, Anna, was found murdered in a seedy New York City back alley and the cops have declared it a drug buy gone bad. Anna was Teresa's masseuse, and friend, and the drug angle just doesn't wash. Jeff is convinced it was something else, because shortly after his sister's death he receives some disturbing photos in the mail - Anna trussed up in bondage gear, in pain, and enjoying it.

The story has a wonderful global sensibility - with Teresa going from Bangkok, to New York, to Nigeria, and back to New York to solve the case. The author takes her heroine off on tangents that seem unrelated at first (What does the Vietnam War have to do with anything?) and ties it up in such a fabulous way that I was practically screaming "bloody brilliant!" in the final chapters.

The author does tend to info-dump during the Nigeria portion of the story, but it's almost a necessity since all this dumb American knows about Nigeria is that it's a country in Africa (which I would wager is more than most Americans). I also love how Teresa is a citizen of the world. Raised in Britain, living in London, but African (her family is from Sudan). She thinks nothing of traveling the globe, getting her passport stamped, and irritating the police on several continents.

The BDSM angle is interesting, as it's a tool being perverted and used by the cult. Naturally, not all BDSM practitioners behave in a manner as this story illustrates - but give someone enough rope and they'll find a way to hang themselves if the desire is there (pun intended).

Random House has marketed Beg Me (and the first novel, Strip Poker) as erotic thrillers, and I think that's a very good description. Erotic Romance (when done right) uses the erotic elements to enhance the romance. Here, the eroticism is used to enhance the suspense angle. Readers who like their sex with some kink but with Sunshine Happy Rainbow tenderness underneath, aren't really going to find it here. Lawrence truly writes sex as being more than about love. That's not to say this novel is completely devoid of tenderness, there is some - but it's saved for the girl-on-girl action. That said, tenderness in this world is not without some sort of consequence, and it's when Teresa opens herself up to it that she becomes very vulnerable. While the novel ends "happily" in the sense that the bad guys get theirs, Teresa and others do not exit stage right completely unscathed. And that's all you're getting out of me.

I hope Lawrence is finding a readership here in the states. Sure there's a ton of erotic romance, and straight-up erotica out there these days - but blending it with a very (very) good suspense thread is not something readily available to the reading public. While I enjoyed Strip Poker, I did feel the author had a tendency to get a bit "talkie." Beg Me is much more streamlined, even as Teresa finds herself wandering off on seemingly unrelated tracks in the investigation. It's all tied up beautifully, but not without serious consequences for our heroine. I cannot recommend this book enough - from Teresa's smarts, to the morally ambiguous secondary characters, to the cracking good mystery. God, I hope there are more books coming in this series.

Final Grade = B+ (I'm tempted to give this one an A-, but even as good as it was, I'm not sure I'll ever reread it, so B+ it is).

Evolution Of A Romance Reader

There's an interesting post up at Book Binge today about the evolution of the online romance community. This is something I've been mulling over for the past few months, because I do see an evolution taking place.

When I started blogging (what seems like ages ago, but really it was only 2003) the only reader-oriented blog that had any teeth was Rosario's. LLB was around as well, but being an off-shoot of AAR, I tend to lump her under the "industry" umbrella. It was a lonely existence. Blogger was in it's infancy and didn't have a commenting feature to speak of (Rosario still uses HaloScan!) and lord knows my idea of keeping statistics was to not bother with them at all. In fact I'm pretty sure the only people reading my blog were family members - bless their hearts.

I started this blog for no other reason than I like to hear myself talk. And frankly I think over the years my blog has gotten loads more interesting (although whether or not I'm "interesting" now is open to serious debate). What made my blog better was the emergence of other reader blogs. Once they joined the scene it got a lot more lively.

I think most readers get into blogging for a handful of reasons. 1) They're like me and like to hear themselves talk and 2) They want to hook up with readers "like them." Being a romance reader can be an isolating experience even though the genre sells a crap-load of books. Why? Because a lot of people 1) won't admit they read the genre 2) don't think they read the genre even though they have a Nora Roberts book stuffed in their purse and 3) just don't talk about the genre for fear of being treated like a simple-minded, pathetic loser who can't get a date on Friday night so has to live vicariously though that novel with a greased-up Fabio-wannabe on the cover.

There, I feel better already.

And that's what makes the Internet so welcoming to romance readers. It's anonymous. You can go by a pseudonym, or just your first name, spout off about books you loved (or hated) and the chances for ridicule are slim (except for the occasional pesky flame war).

But what does the emergence of reader-blogs mean to the old guard? Still vital? In need of new blood? I ask because being a TRR reviewer, I'm member of the old guard. And to be honest, at this point, I'm tired. The only things keeping me from chucking reviewing for them entirely is 1) my sense of loyalty and 2) the fact that reviewing for them has allowed me to discover many fabulous authors/books. Without reviewing, that wouldn't have happened - and I'm not sure I should give that up.

But then I think, I have my blog. I have this platform. How many platforms does my voice really need? TRR, RtB, this blog? Do I have that much to say? A question I tend to have a different answer to depending on the day of the week.

One thing for certain, the online romance community is evolving. Where we'll end up, bloggers and the old guard, is anybody's guess.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

Anybody who has read this blog on a semi-regular basis knows that I have a beautiful, intelligent older sister and a beautiful, intelligent younger sister. What does that make me? The Middle Child With An Inferiority Complex. So it's almost fitting that I became a librarian.

Librarians are the only people I know who routinely justify their jobs. We're like the romance readers of the professional world. "See, my job is important!" "See, libraries provide a valuable service!" "See, the library is the greatest!"

Big Sigh. I made the decision a long time ago to stop justifying my reading habits to people who can't be bothered to listen. I'm starting to think I should do the same with my job, but given that my job is dependent on public funding (and I like paying the rent and buying groceries), I'm probably stuck on the Rah Rah Libraries Are The Coolest Bandwagon until the day I die. I'd say retire, but librarians don't retire - we move to part-time.

So in an effort to stay relevant, libraries keep looking for the next big score. Computers, check. Downloadable audio books, check. ebooks, check. Cafes in libraries, check. Free wireless service, check. DVDs, check. In recent years there have even been libraries built and modeled after chain bookstores. Shiny, new, housing what the public demands - their pop culture bellies filled till they burst.

As much as I love going to Borders, this practice tends to send a chill up my spine. Libraries and bookstores are not the same thing. (If you work for a publishing company please read over that last sentence again).

Yes, chain bookstores are bright, shiny, new and you can always find a copy of the new assembly-lined produced James Patterson novel there (seriously, I have this theory that he has a writing sweatshop set up in Guatemala). But half the fun of libraries is the hunt. We have James Patterson too, but you'll also find so much more. Long out of print gems that don't exist in Borders-land. Foreign translations. Well-reviewed books that had dismal print runs. Long-forgotten classics. Browsing the library is a feast. A treasure hunt where you can find untold riches.

But there's still that continual need to justify. To convince non-library users that yes, the library is vital! Yes, we're important! Love us! Validate us! And the easiest way to the do that is through raw numbers. See, this DVD of Spiderman 2 circulated 75 times! See, this John Grisham novel circulated 150!

I'm certainly not saying that libraries shouldn't offer popular titles. I mean, hello? Romance and mystery reader here! But that's not to say that libraries can't be both. They can be cultural clearinghouses and cater to pop culture desires. Naturally it's impossible to be all things, to all people, but libraries need to try - because if we don't do it, who will? I mean, you're certainly not going to find that foreign film that had limited distribution at Blockbuster. But you just might find it at the library. Hopefully one day all libraries will get it right. In the meantime I think I'm stuck wearing my Librarians Are Special button.

Beach Read

Just in time for summer, Brava churns out another one of their sexy anthologies. Sun, Sand, Sex features "big name" Linda Lael Miller, "medium-sized name" Jennifer Apodaca, and "eBook author moving to NY" author Shelly Laurenston. There are a couple of bumps in the road, but all in all, this was a satisfying read.

The biggest bump comes in the first story, Miller's "One Last Weekend." Teague (only romance novel heroes are named Teague) and Joanna Darby were college sweethearts. But despite 20-odd years of marriage they've grown apart. The problem here is that they've stopped talking to each other. Their divorce attorney convinces them to spend "one last weekend" at their cabin on an island off the coast of Washington. They reluctantly agree, and when a storm grounds the ferry they find themselves stuck. In their romantic cabin in the woods. Whatever shall they do?

The problem is that this story is only 60 pages long, and while Teague and Joanna reconnect by having a lot of hot, sweaty sex, they don't solve the root of their problem. That is, they still aren't really talking to each other. One wonders if they'll head back to the divorce lawyer once they've run out of sexual positions to try. Grade = C.

"You Give Love A Good Name" by Jennifer Apodaca is the fun story in the anthology. Lexie Rollins is a wedding planner under duress. When her Mom had a heart attack her family guilt-ed her into taking over the family business. It's going fine until a drunken groom flashes her his Mr. Happy and she protects herself with a staple gun. To add insult to injury, the guy has no sense of humor and files charges against her. Then Lexie picks up a stalker and nobody (not even her family) believes her. So she packs a bag and heads to San Diego to lie low.

Nick Vardolous is the bounty hunter hired to bring Lexie home for a court date. He also knows her, since she planned his sister's wedding. He's very attracted to her, but she turned him down when he suggested they get to know each other better. He's a one-night kind of guy, and Lexie just isn't. When he catches up with her and finds out about her stalker he vows to protect her.

This is a fun and fast read, with a lot of sexual tension. The mystery isn't much of a brain-bender, but the plot hums along and both characters act like adults with emotional baggage. I especially liked that even though she was in danger, Lexie didn't play the part of helpless, clueless, damsel in distress. Fine, nobody believes her about the stalker - that means she's going to have to hire her own private investigator to look into the matter. And she does. Go on with your bad self girlfriend. Grade = B.

Anthologies are a good way to get an author's name "out there," which is why I'm sure Shelly Laurenston was invited to the party. But one has to wonder about the logic of including a paranormal story with two contemporary ones in an anthology called Sun, Sand, Sex. I mean, does the paranormal really scream "beach read" and "summertime" to readers? Not this one, but oh well. I'll also ignore the fact that outside of the phrase "strange goings-on" (which could mean anything) there is nothing in the back cover blurb to suggest this is a paranormal story. Just saying.

Outside of all that (which is out of the author's control) I did like "My Kind Of Town." Emma Lucchesi is a witch from New York City who has come to tiny Smithville, North Carolina on business. Her Coven has opened up a portal and they need to close it before anything really nasty crawls through. But it's too late, and that something nasty causes her to crash her car.

Enter Deputy Kyle Treharne who doesn't trust Emma as far as he can throw her. For one thing she's lying. For another she's a Yankee. Sure the town is inhabited by shape shifters (Kyle is a panther - and there are lions, hyenas, dogs, you get the idea), but things are stranger than usual. That means keeping Emma close until he gets to the bottom of things.

What we have here is an adversarial relationship that works pretty well. I think in a longer novel it would get annoying, but for a short story it means lots of banter and plenty of sexual heat. The story screams series to me, so one suspects that Laurenston hasn't closed the book on Smithville. The best part? Not a vampire in sight. Grade = B.

So final verdict? Great beach read or vacation book. It won't change your life, but it's fast and fun. I do think the Laurenston is worth a look for paranormal series junkies, and Apodaca continues to make a seamless transition from mystery to romance. The Miller story, while the weak link, was hardly horrible, and fell firmly under my average umbrella. Worth a look, especially if you're gunning for some new-to-you authors.