Retro Review: Skin

This review for Skin by Karin Tabke was first posted at The Romance Reader in 2007.  Back in the day I gave it a 2-Heart rating (D grade) with an MPAA sensuality rating of NC-17.

+++++

Karin Tabke’s second novel has a plot like cotton candy. It’s totally bad for you, but it tastes really good and gives you a sugar high. Unfortunately, as more pages pass by, the reader will find it hard to overlook an unconvincing romance.

Francesca “Frankie” Donatello is a mafia princess. While her father had his fingers in a lot of dirty pies, Frankie has her heart set on running Skin – a legit women’s magazine owned by her father. While profits for Skin have been marginally respectable, it’s in a creative slump. Frankie has dreams of making it over into Cosmo meets Playgirl – a move that her father didn’t approve of. He hates the idea so much that he tells her she is “dead to him” and angry words are exchanged. The next day, daddy is assassinated and Frankie is more determined than ever to make over Skin in her vision. For that she needs one hot male model.

Enter Reese Bronson, an undercover cop assigned to getting the dirt on the Donatello clan. With daddy dead, the cops are concerned about a turf war, so what better way to stop it by finding out who hired the hit? Infiltrating Skin seems like a good plan, plus Frankie being her father’s daughter, she might have had something to do with his death.

If the plot sounds over the top, that’s because it is. Skin screams beach book. It’s undemanding, entertaining, and there’s plenty of hot sex. Unfortunately the characters do everything in their power to sabotage what could have been a campy, fun read.

Frankie doesn’t trust men. She made the mistake of having an affair with a man who pillow-talked all of her business secrets out of her then took them to the competition. Reese sets off all of her hormones, and because of this she almost doesn’t hire him. She doesn’t trust herself around him. But he plays up the attraction, and soon she finds herself hiring him because really, he is the best man to rise to the occasion. What will happen when she finds out that he’s a cop who only wants to get her in the sack so she’ll spill all of her family’s secrets? Take a wild guess.

Reese carries around the requisite baggage that every other stereotypical Alpha male in Romance Novel Land has. His mother abandoned him. He blames himself for his sister’s death. He’s estranged from his father. Lather, rinse repeat. He’s hot for Frankie but given that she’s a mafia princess he’s not sure he can trust her. And there’s the rub. The romance doesn’t work because the characters don’t trust each other.

Reese believes the worst, thinking Frankie played a role in her father’s death. Frankie suspects Reese is a cop, but jumps into bed with him anyway. When the truth comes out, she’s hurt, stunned and totally surprised – even though she suspected as much starting at the halfway point of the novel. To say Frankie runs hot and cold is an understatement. One minute she’s determined to not have sex with Reese because 1) she doesn’t want to mix business with pleasure and 2) he’s hiding something. But what does she do? She practically seduces him out of his pants. Then she’s back to saying they can’t have sex with each other. Make up your mind.

The suspense thread isn’t half bad, except the author doesn’t give the reader nearly enough suspects to work with. Having read enough suspense novels in my day, it was pretty easy to see the climax of the story coming a mile off, which leaves the romance to keep the reader entertained. With Frankie running hot and cold, and the total lack of trust, it’s more than a little hard to buy into. Plus, Reese is determined to believe the worst; even with his gut telling him that Frankie is innocent of any wrongdoing.

On the surface, Skin is a campy, entertaining read that could be perfect for killing time on the beach. Unfortunately, the lack of trust really puts a damper on the fireworks. It’s hard to recommend, but as a guilty pleasure Tabke certainly shows promise.

++++++

Wendy Looks Back:  As time marches on what I did and/or didn't read during my TRR days is becoming a distant memory.  Hence this book, which I had kind of forgotten about.  Now thought?  Wow, so Tabke wrote a mafia romance 10 years ago.  I guess what they say is true - there really aren't any new ideas.

Also this now amuses me greatly: "...it was pretty easy to see the climax of the story coming a mile off..."   Ha!

Retro Review: Double Dare

This review of Double Dare by Saskia Walker was first published at The Romance Reader in 2006.  Back then I gave it a rating of 4 Hearts (B Grade) with an MPAA sensuality rating of NC-17.

+++++

Perhaps the most refreshing aspect about the recent erotica boom is that many good authors, previously published by small presses, are cracking into the more mainstream, American marketplace. Such is the case with Saskia Walker, whose first full-length novel debuts under the Berkley Heat umbrella. While a little thin on conflict, it’s easy to see that this is an author who has earned her stripes writing for respected erotica publishers like Virgin Books’ Black Lace line.

Abby Douglas is a beautiful, sexually aware investment advisor working for a prominent firm in London. While standing at the reception desk one day, a drop dead gorgeous courier comes in to drop off some documents. He thinks Abby is the receptionist, and she doesn’t correct him. This is one guy she would love to spend time with, and a lot men turn tail and run when they find out she’s a high-powered career gal. No harm, no foul, why not have some fun?

Except that sexy courier is club owner, Zac Bordino who just happens to be the son of Abby’s new client. His mother is in failing health, and has urged Zac to oversee the family portfolio. It’s when Zac gets a look at that portfolio that he realizes that Abby Douglas is no secretary. But why would she lie to him? Is it innocent enough or is she hiding something more nefarious? To find out, he begins to spend more time with her, and while he wants to find out what she’s truly about, he finds it might not be soon enough to guard his heart.

While the conflict sounds like it’s ripe for miscommunication and a big misunderstanding, Walker doesn’t write it that way. Abby’s little white lie is innocent enough, but Zac doesn’t know that – and given his playboy past and family money, he’s a little slow to trust. That doesn’t mean though that the characters sit around brooding in their internal angst. Anything but! Abby and Zac are immediately attracted to each other, with a sexual combustion that leaps off the pages. These two cannot get enough of each other, and the love scenes are sexy, erotic and imaginative without being silly and weird.

Original Cover

Also refreshing is that when the truth finally comes out in the open, both characters openly admit to what they’ve done. There’s no wailing, stomping of feet, or theatrical screaming matches. These two actually behave like adults, and admit that they both could have handled the situation better. It also gives the author time to explore the extremely pleasing fantasy of hot sex with a hot stranger.

While Abby is a sexually confident woman, once she and Zac hook up readers will find a monogamous relationship. Also, there is a smaller secondary romance between the real receptionist and Zac’s best friend that plays out quite nicely.

While the plot isn’t what one would call complex, and the conflict runs on the thin side, this is a pleasing erotic romance that works quite well. Walker’s previously published erotica consists of several novellas, and her ability in the craft of writing spicy sex shows. Having waded through some less than desirable offerings from the recent erotica boom, this is one of the better novels to land in my lap. It was a pleasant diversion indeed and a good start to Walker’s full-length novel career.

++++++

Wendy Looks Back: Walker had several shorter stories/novellas under her belt when the first big wave of what would become known as "erotic romance" hit.  By the mid-2000s, most romance publishers had some sort of a "erotic romance" imprint and veterans like Walker were getting snapped up.  This was her first full-length book for Berkley Heat and while I did find the conflict a bit on the thin side, Walker writes passion very well and tends to avoid the trap of writing kink for kink's sake.  She's still writing today and still an author I enjoy reading when I want something on the spicy side.

#TBRChallenge 2017: Toxic

The Book: Toxic by Carol Ericson

The Particulars: Romantic suspense, 2014, Harlequin Intrigue Noir, Digital only, Not available in print

Why Was It In Wendy's TBR?:  I saw the word "noir" and that was enough for me.  Harlequin published seven novellas as part of this mini-series for Harlequin Intrigue in late 2014 / early 2015.  I restrained myself (for once) and only one-clicked this one.  I'm not sure why I chose this one to start with.  My guess?  The back cover blurb intrigued me and Ericson is a local author.

The Review: I love noir.  I love the tone of it, the feel of it, the dubious characters with questionable motives.  Heck, I even love the stereotypical femme fatales.  Gimme, gimme, gimme.  To sink me even further?  Ericson sets this story in a backwater burg in Florida.  Folks, when it comes to noir there are two quintessential settings when we're talking the US: Los Angeles, and anywhere in southern Florida.  This isn't just my opinion, this is fact.

J.P. McCoy was a Chicago cop until his love of booze killed his career.  Now sober, and a private investigator, he takes a job that sends him to Crystal Water, Florida.  A powerful man is looking for his mistress, who has taken off.  He tells J.P. to check out the Seychelles, a bar run by a former Vegas showgirl, Ronnie Tate.  That's where Maya was working before she disappeared.

J.P. takes one look at Ronnie and wants to get to know her in all the right (and wrong) ways.  He goes in posing as a guy looking for a job, and lucky for him, Ronnie's regular bartender has been unreliable.  Now to snoop around for the missing Maya without drawing Ronnie's suspicion.

Ronnie is a classic tough girl with a mysterious past.  She's running the bar, not because she enjoys it, but because it's the only thing of semi-value that her much-older husband left her.  Everything else went to his kids, who think their much younger stepmother is a gold digging floozy who probably had something to do with their father's death.  Lucky for Ronnie the good old boy police chief wants to get in her panties and the medical examiner ruled the death as an accidental overdose.  However, these are minor annoyances for Ronnie.  Nothing to get excited about.  Her sexy new bartender?  Now there's something to get excited about it.  And it's all banter and flirting and sexy times on the bar (seriously) until a dead body shows up and ruins everything.

This is the sort of story that's all about the style. I'm such an easy mark, the feel of this story, the tone of it, the over-the-top noir-style elements - I was sunk before I even finished the first chapter.  Is it a "realistic" read?  Look, is any noir realistic?  It's over-the-top seedy glamour and I was here for it all day long.

That being said, this is a novella and there are shortcuts.  Ericson gets the readers from Point A to Point C while skipping B. There are leaps taken to move the story forward, and in a crime story?  That's not necessarily a good thing.  I found myself saying, "But wait, how did they find that out?" or "But wait, when did that element come to light?"  There's a credible suspense plot here, but it would have benefited from being closer to length of a regular Intrigue word count to pull it off a bit better.

The romance is...well, fast.  This felt very much like an erotic romance and the sex is definitely steamier than what one typically finds in the regular Intrigue line.  The first sex scene between Ronnie and J.P is a doozy and there's several more encounters that occur over the course of this short novella (Amazon says 124 pages).  So if steam is your thing, this one certainly can fog up some glasses.

True to form for a romance, there's a happy ever after.  True to form for a noir story, the ending is morally ambiguous.  If you're looking for the white picket fence and Ronnie round with child while baking cookies in the kitchen?  Yeah, not so much.  But it's also not on the level of say, J.P. being a mafia boss or sex trafficker.  It's not THAT morally ambiguous.

This is a hard story for me to ultimately assign a grade to because I do see that it's not perfect.  There are issues here, mostly in the short word count and shortcuts the author took.  But man, I loved reading this.  It spoke to that nostalgic reader part of my brain - the girl who sat on the floor of her local small town library and browsed through stacks of mystery and crime novels.  Of course I'll be picking up the rest of the books in the Noir series.  How could I not?

Final Grade = B-

Reminder: #TBRChallenge for October

For those of you participating in the 2017 TBR Challenge, this is a reminder that your commentary is "due" on Wednesday, October 18.  This month's theme is Paranormal or Romantic Suspense.

Our traditional theme for October in honor of Halloween or as I like to call it - Wendy lacks imagination.  But what if you don't care for suspense and like your romance free of vampires, werewolves and shifters? Hey,  no problem! Remember: the themes are optional!  The whole point of the TBR Challenge is to read something, anything, that has been languishing for far too long.

You can find more information about the challenge, and see the list of participants, on the 2017 Information Page.  (And it's never too late to sign-up!)

Retro Review: In the Groove by Pamela Britton

The review for In The Groove by Pamela Britton was originally posted at The Romance Reader in 2006.  Back then, I gave it 2 Hearts (D Grade) with an MPAA sensuality rating of G.  So yeah, if you're expecting dirty NASCAR racing shenanigans, keep on walking...

+++++

After spending over 370 pages reading about Sarah Tingle I needed to make an appointment with my dentist. Readers will be hard pressed to find a sweeter heroine – and no, that is not a compliment.

Sarah’s life has gone from bad to worse. A jealous ex doctored up some nude photographs and got them published, causing Sarah to get fired from her kindergarten teaching job. Unable to repair her damaged reputation, she takes the only job she can find – driving the motor coach for some NASCAR driver. However on her way to meet her new boss, her car breaks down and she finds herself hiking along a deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

That’s how she meets her new boss, Lance Cooper – except she doesn’t recognize him. She has no clue who he is, other than one devastatingly handsome man. Lance is immediately smitten with Sarah, a woman so sweet, so innocent, and so unaffected by his fame. Once she realizes he’s Lance Cooper she’s horrified, but he convinces her to take the job anyway. He wants to keep this woman around.

Why he wants to keep her around is a mystery unto itself. Sarah is the very definition of a Mary Sue heroine, and after 50 pages of her I was ready drink myself into oblivion. She’s sweet, she’s vulnerable, and she’s The Victim. Life has handed her a bad hand, but instead of doing something (like calling the police on the ex who is obviously obsessed with her!), she runs off to work for Lance. Lance then proceeds to shelter her, baby her, and look at her longingly. Good romance heroines fight back when life deals them a bad hand – Sarah just rolls over and dies.

Worse still, her cloying sweetness soon overflows onto the rest of the story. She doesn’t swear and says things like “holy guacamole” and “jeez oh peets.” She bakes animal-shaped sugar cookies for Lance after he has a bad day on the track. She never says a bad word to anybody – including those who think she’s “not much to look at” or her own mother who insults her at every turn. Lance should have thrown her in his race car, driven her to the hospital and demanded a spine transplant.

Lance isn’t a bad guy, and quite charming – but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what he saw in Little Miss Goody-Goody. Frankly he merely reinforces the ideal that woman should be good, innocent and sweet if they ever have hopes of landing a man. Heaven forbid she have a brain in her head and can stand up for herself.

Eventually the author tries to allow her heroine to grow, but after 300 pages of syrup, her finding a backbone is too little, too late. In fact, the resolution of the creepy ex angle is poorly handled, but at least Sarah doesn’t need Lance to come and rescue her – which I suppose says something.

The NASCAR angle is well done, and Britton continues to write well. It’s just unfortunate that she saddled this story with a heroine so cloyingly cutesy that I had a mouth full of cavities by the end of it. Sarah is probably a heroine I would have liked to have read about in high school, but being several years past that stage in my life all I could think about was Lance running over her with his car. The yellow flag is definitely out – proceed with caution.

+++++

Wendy Looks Back: I love Harlequin, Lord knows I do - but they own their share of "bad ideas."  This partnership with NASCAR was one of them.  To be fair to Britton, word on the street at the time was that the deal between NASCAR and Harlequin was basically to churn out "wholesome" stories to fit with the whole American Heartland "thing" they like to hawk.  But even in the more innocent times of 2006, this portrayal of NASCAR, its drivers, its fans, and the general trappings of the sport strained considerably.  I can't imagine it's aged all that well in the 10+ years since this book was published.

Britton is still writing, mostly in category romance and I'm capable of enjoying her work.  But this one was a whole bunch of nope for me back in 2006.  And interestingly enough?  It doesn't exist in ebook format, never mind that Harlequin began digitizing it's entire front list in fall of 2007. 

Little Miss Crabby Pants Doubles Down on the New York Times

I think by now everybody in romance circles has seen the New York Times’ attempt to write about romance novels. I’d actually seen mention of the impending piece a few days before it went live and, in what I can only blame on a temporary moment of insanity, I was excited. Then the caffeine kicked in and I came to my senses.

I have largely stayed silent on the Robert Gottlieb piece (Seriously?! Robert Gottlieb?!) because I’m tired ya’ll. I mean how many ways can Little Miss Crabby Pants provide commentary on the latest “hot take” du jour written by writers who have done, like, zero research on the genre or its history. All these hot takes say the exact same thing in the exact same tired cliched manner. Oh there’s sex! *titter titter hee hee* Oh women really like to read this trash! *titter titter hee hee* Although you have to hand it to Gottlieb. He reached into the void and was not only condescending and snide but managed to throw in some racism with a side of fries.

“Oh, yes — Zoe and Carver are African-Americans, though except for some scattered references to racial matters, you’d never know it. (Well, you would from the cover.)”

Translation: Don’t worry white people! It’s OK for you to read Deadly Rumors by Cheris Hodges because you’ll never know it’s about black people!

I just…seriously? Racism is deeply embedded in this country’s fabric. It’s an open festering wound that can’t scab over. But the New York Times actually let that sentence fly out into the world. Think on that for a minute the next time your friends and family thump their chest over taking a knee and the NFL’s brand of faux patriotism.

Anyway, others stepped in to throw some shade on the Gottlieb piece, I resorted to my best side eye, and called it a day. I'm so old and frankly expect this sort of thing with the regularity of the sun rising that I couldn't muster up any fresh outrage. 

That is until the the New York Times decided to double down and managed to make the whole mess that much worse.

Radhika Jones, editorial director of the New York Times Books section, decided to write a response that basically encompasses a “Oh well we tried!” excuse and proceeds to school upset romance fans on what “criticism” is because we’ve obviously addled our brains by reading too much tripe to understand the concept.

No, Ms. Jones, as shocking as this may be to understand, romance fans do know and understand what criticism is. More importantly we also know what condescension and respect are. Gottlieb’s piece had a heaping helping of the first and none of the latter. Romance readers, bless our hearts, can smell snide like a fart in a car. I don’t think anybody has a problem with Gottlieb writing a piece for the New York Times on romance. What we do have a problem with is his utter lack of respect for the genre and the staggering racism that flew right past your editorial desk.

You know what romance readers want? What we really want? Fair treatment. I think many of us can agree that the late Roger Ebert was a talented and notable film critic. He loved some movies and he hated others. But never, during his entire career, in all my years of reading his work or watching him on TV, did I feel that Robert Ebert didn’t respect film. He greatly respected film. What I felt when I read that Gottlieb piece? He doesn’t respect romance. The genre, the books, the authors, the readers. That’s what we got our panties in a twist over. Not that Gottlieb isn’t a “fan.” It’s the disdain in that article. Like he lost a bet or dropped his pants during office happy hour one Friday evening and you assigned him this piece as punishment.

Romance readers are smarter than anybody ever gives them credit for. We know what criticism is. We don’t need you to school us on it. We understand that there are good books and bad books. We can talk about them intelligently, the authorial choices made, the “why” something works or doesn’t. Some of us are even nerds about genre history. We can speak to you eloquently about the bodice ripper era, the history of Harlequin, and the rise of erotic romance as a sub genre. We understand that you don’t have to like, hate, agree or disagree to write intelligently on a subject. We. Get. That. We don’t need you to educate those you perceive as the poor unwashed masses.

Look, romance readers are tired. Romance writers are tired. Librarians who are champions of the genre have been exhausted for at least the last 40 years. We get bombarded with pieces like Gottlieb’s on a regular basis (Lord save us from editors looking to fill column space in February!) but then you went, double downed, and made it worse. Look, this isn’t that hard. You cannot like romance, just as I cannot like science fiction or high fantasy. But some respect would nice, and frankly – that’s not too much to ask.

The truth of the matter is that romance doesn’t need the New York Times to write about us. We never have. We have flourished as a genre for decades while you’ve turned up your nose and looked the other way. And you know what? You do you. But honestly I think I speak for romance readers everywhere when I say that you simply ignoring us is preferable to the original piece and your response. Do it right or don’t do it at all.

Bat Cave Update and Mini-Reviews

The lack of blog activity of late has been a case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. Work has been nutty.  Yeah, yeah - lather, rinse, repeat.  I'm serious - it's been nutty.  Library grand openings, my staff helping out to fill in for short staffing situations elsewhere, a long-time employee retiring, trying to bring new vendors on board - it's been nutty.  

On top of that, now seemed like a peachy time to look for a new place to live.  Good news, we found a place!  Even better news - it's going to cut my work commute IN HALF!  The bad news?  We've been in the current Bat Cave for 10 years and good Lord WHY did we keep all this crap?!?!  So weekends have been spent cleaning out clutter, figuring out what will be downsized (the new Bat Cave is a teensy bit smaller), and starting the packing process.  We'll do the actual, physical moving the first weekend on November.  I cannot wait!

I also continue to not be reading much.  I did burn through September's TBR Challenge read in one late night sitting, but beyond that?  It's been kind of a slog.  But here's a few things I've gotten through that are worth, at least, a quick mention.

Royal Crush is the third book in Meg Cabot's middle-grade series set in her Princess Diaries world.  This go around Olivia is awaiting for her big sister, Mia (now ruler of Genovia) to give birth to her twins.  As if that weren't exciting enough?  Her school is gearing up for a field trip to the Royal School Winter Games and then there's the realization that she has her *gasp* first ever crush.

Yes, I read a book meant for junior high schoolers.  I have no shame!  I love this world that Cabot has created.  It's like pink bows, glitter, cotton candy and unicorns all rolled into one.  It's my happy place and as long as she keeps writing books set in this universe, I'll be hard pressed to give them up.

Grade = B

Ask the Cards a Question is the second book in Marcia Muller's Sharon McCone mystery series.  Muller is credited with creating the first female PI character and this entry was originally published in 1982.  This time out there's a murder in Sharon's San Francisco apartment building.  Molly Antonio was the nicest person in the entire building, who would want her dead?  There's Molly's unique relationship with her somewhat estranged husband, the creepy fortune teller, Madame Anya, who foretold evil was in store for Molly, and Sharon's BFF and current house guest, Linnea, who has fallen into a bottle ever since her husband left her for a younger woman.

I first read this when I was a teen and it was surprising how much of the story came back to me.  It's interesting that back in 1982 Muller wrote a diverse San Francisco setting (completely reasonable) when so many current authors struggle with showing diversity in their stories.  That said?  Some of these characterizations haven't necessarily aged well - although the worst of them was definitely Sharon's Irish superintendent who always has a beer in his hand.  That said, solid mystery and what I always preferred about Sharon over, say, Grafton's Kinsey Millhone character is that Sharon actually has some people skills and, you know, friends.

Grade = B-

Black Rabbit Hall by Eve Chase was a recommendation I picked up from author Laura K. Curtis.  As Laura indicates, it's a book that defies easy classification.  It's not a tragedy, and yet it kind of is.  It's not a romance, but it is romantic.  It's not a Gothic, per se, but it definitely has Gothic elements.  It follows the lives of the Alton children in the late 1960s when they arrive at their country estate, Black Rabbit Hall, for the Easter holiday.  Naturally, something bad happens and it sends the family careening down a path of tragedy, drama, and secrets.

I can see why Laura liked this and recommended it.  It's well written, there's a good story, and the atmosphere is compelling.  That said I found it really, really slow.  I don't think I could have read this and even listening to it on audio was a bit of a slog.  Also, while not a tragedy, per se, there's a sense of doom that hovers over the narrative for nearly the entire book.  I found it suffocating.  This is actually a compliment to the author, but it was something that I don't think I was in the right frame of mind for at the time I was listening.  That said, I'm glad I persevered because I did like the ending and the author ties up all the drama leaving us on an "up note."  But I'm also not in any hurry to pick up another one of her books.  Maybe one day.  

Side note, one of the best villains I've read in a long while. 

Grade = C+