Oh look, another author who can’t take criticism.

*Yawn*

The difference is, this author decided to take a potshot at the reviewer’s weight.

Lord.

Here’s the author’s rant in its entirety, crossing a line that no man should ever cross:

Seriously….you’re just going after me on Twitter and Good Reads now after savaging me on DarkScribe?

what is your problem with me?

the typos are LONG gone and the book has all been re-edited. That verison hasn’t been available for almost a year. I sent you that copy a year ago…you JUST got to it.

enough with the typo thing.

and can you not see that your hyper interest in woman studies and equality are tainting your ability to review a book with an even hand?

Jeesh…if you hate my characters because some are sexist or bigots…what kind of books DO you like?

and for every character you mention that is a “weak woman” or ” idiot cop” there are others to balance them out…yet you don’t even mention them.

You are the first person who has absolutely hated my book. That’s fine. If i wrote a horror novel that EVERYONE liked…i’m doing something wrong.

it’s just that your hate is coming from the wrong places.

anyway…you’ve blasted me enough. Shut up and movo on.

I can’t help but wonder if you’re pissed because the character “Janice” in my book…the one you posted an excerpt about:

“…She needed a man. Hell, maybe if she bothered to drop down below 220 lbs she might find one. That, and she’d have to not talk. Basically she’d have to become an anorexic mute and then she could possibly attract the attention of a blind man with no sense of smell.”

…Hits a little too close to home. Don’t take that out on me.

Others on good reads like my book, even with the old typos (see Monster Librarian member on here- they put Under on thier best of 2009 list…up with many published authors.)

Your opinion is fine….but don’t pretend your hate comes purely from my book….your self loathing is creeping in far more than any typos.

but hey…that’s just my opinion.

how about we both just forget about each other, okay?

Wow, he actually went there.

The self-pubbed author was a chap called Brad Quinn. Somebody needs to tell him that implying that the reviewer reacted negatively to his book because she was a fat cow who couldn’t get a man, is so not the best way to win friends and influence people.

Wanker.

Via Katiebabs’ blog.

OK, so I read The Gingerbread Tryst, a book by Nichelle Gregory, that Jill Noble very kindly sent to me after I erm, questioned the wisdom of using a much-loved, innocent fairytale character in an erotic book.

Here’s the blurb:

Meet Marisa, a restless homemaker who spends her time baking, masturbating and dabbling in magic. Happily married, Marisa only wishes her husband Don could keep up with her insatiable need for sex. She craves orgasms daily and her sex drive has become a sore spot in an otherwise happy marriage. Determined to find a solution to ramp up Don’s libido, she turns to magic.

After trying magical amulets and oils, Marisa discovers a book that contains wish spells. Throwing caution to the wind, she decides to experiment with an incantation that could make her naughty gingerbread man cookie a real flesh and blood man. Taken by surprise . . . literally, Marisa indulges in a delicious sexual rendezvous that ends up going further than she could have ever imagined. This delightfully sexy tale offers up hot thrills sure to please any sweet tooth!

Where do I begin? (more…)

Regular readers of KKB will know that I’m not a great lover of hysterical historical romances (TV doesn’t count). Oh I read the occasional historical author, for instance I love Lisa Kleypas books, and Elizabeth Hoyt is another favourite, but on the whole, I pretty much try to avoid anything written before 1999.

So it was with trepidation that I decided to pick up Jennifer Ashley’s, The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie.
I decided to buy it because I like unusual heroes, and unfortunately, the heroes that I’ve encountered of late have been a little run of the mill.

Anyway, I needn’t have worried actually, because it was a pretty terrific book. Ashley got all the elements just right, and I finished reading it in no time at all.

I’ve been having trouble reading books till the end lately, so any book that I pick up and read in one go, is worth talking about methinks, so I decided to give TMOLIM a quick plug.

(more…)

So the other day, I read Lora Leigh’s Coyote’s Mate.

I’ve followed her Breed books for what seems like forever, and I have to admit, even when I think I couldn’t possibly read another LL, I give in to temptation, and purchase yet another one.

You know that scene in Brokeback Mountain when Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) turns to Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and says “You are too much for me Ennis, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.”? That’s just how I feel about Lora Leigh books. Sometimes I too wish I could quit her.

I’ve been reading her since circa 2005, and I’ve had a love/hate relationship with her Breed books ever since. I’ll read one book, and it’ll blow me away, and then I’ll read another, and I’ll wonder at the brand of mushrooms Lora was smoking when she wrote said book.

Anyway, it’s been quite a while since I visited the world of the Breeds, so I picked up Coyote’s Mate and read it last weekend. (more…)

Erm, so apparently, I haven’t yet mastered the art of brief reviews, so read on only if you have the time, cuz this goes on a bit.

I discovered Colette Gale when TTG and I were in the States last year. I think the first book of hers that I read was Master, the erotic re-telling of The Count of Monte Cristo (This originally read The C*nt Of Monte Cristo, heh) story. I have to say, I enjoyed it enormously, although I remember chatting with DA Jane and she mentioned that she wasn’t keen on it at all. Or perhaps she meant the Phantom book? Ahh crap, I forget.

Anyway, I then read Unmasqued, Gale’s Phantom of The Opera book. Whilst reading Unmasqued, I recall thinking that it would have been a great book for anybody contemplating suicide, who hadn’t quite worked up the courage to shoot themselves in the head yet. Jesus it was depressing.

Despite being rather underwhelmed by Gale’s bastardization of Phantom, when I discovered that she was due to release another classic retelling, Bound By Honor, I was very excited. This book was based on the story of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Yippee.

(more…)

Recently I have been asked about my ability-and willingness-to remain as honest and objective as I possibly can in my reviews.

The question is valid, in two different contexts.

In one case, I cross post my reviews to Suzanne Brockmann’’s message board-including reviews of her books. It is no secret anywhere that I’m a fan of her work, and so far I haven’t been disappointed, but… what if I were? Would I write an honest review giving a low grade to one of her novels and then post that review at her board?

(more…)

It’s been a while since I felt moved enough to write a review, but I have read a few decent (and not so decent) books over the past month, so I’ll try to get some of my thoughts about them out in review format.

The first book on the list is The Conquest, By Julia Templeton.

I’ve never read Templeton before, but I decided to pick this one up at the Borders store in Clearwater, whilst we were in the states.

Rhiannon MacKay is the daughter of a wealthy laird, who’s destined to be married off to a man, selected by her father. She’s never really been bothered by this fact, assuming that she would like whoever her father ultimately chose for her.

Predictably, Rhi’s father ends up giving her to a man who’s older than he is, which of course pisses Rhiannon off no end. When Lord Malgor (Rhi’s decrepit intended) sends the rather delish Adelstan Cawdor to escort Rhi to her betrothed, the shit truly hits the fan.

Adelstan and Rhi fall in lust with each other, and although Ade tries very hard to resist her womanly charms, (mostly because he doesn’t want to be accused of being a traitor, and killed off) they eventually end up doing the horizontal foxtrot. Over and over, and over again.

I have to say, I rather enjoyed this book, flaws and all. Rhi was a total Slutty Suzie, even though I suspect that a lot of well-bred girls in 11th Century Scotland, wouldn’t have known what their front bums were for, pre-marriage. But I kinda liked this about her. Adelstan was a slightly wet hero, but he was pretty likeable, nonetheless.

I also liked that the sex between the two of them were pretty hot, and mostly well-written.

The villain of the piece (The coffin-dodging intended) was predictably cookie-cutter-bad, but I wasn’t overly interested in him, even though his presence in the book was the main source of conflict for Rhi and Ade.

Although this was an historical erotic romance, I liked that Templeton didn’t have them jumping into bed on page six, so there was enough tension to keep the juices flowing.

Having said that though, in this book, you get the erotic romance full kit and caboodle. Not only do you get the straight, if slightly kinky, M/F sex, but there was also an m/m/f threesome. As well as the odd blowjob here and there. Oh yeah, and if I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure Rhi gets herself off in the bath whilst she’s alone too. All good erotic romance fun.

Ultimately, The Conquest was a good read for me, but it certainly wasn’t perfect. I suggest that if you enjoyed War and Peace, this book probably aint for you.

You can buy The Conquest from Amazon.com here, and from Amazon UK here.

By the way, you can tell this is an erotic romance because it seems obvious to me that in order to fulfill the Lots Of Sex quotient requirement, Templeton uses Rhi’s maid, Elspeth (who also happens to be a bit of a Loose Lucy) and Ade’s brother-in-arms, Jorden to ramp up the action. It was probably easier than having Rhiannon drop her knickers for every Tom, Dick and Barbara.

Just sayin’.

First off, please keep in mind that the following rambling reflects only my internal dialogue, and as such, it is not meant to set down parameters for anyone else’s behaviour—just mine.

(If you wonder why on earth I bother to blog about it then, I’ll just say: ‘cause I like to hear myself talk, that’s why. And obviously, no one forces you to read )

Now that it seems I write reviews with a *cough* certain *cough* regularity, I have been pondering even more what reviews themselves mean, in terms of responsibility for me as reviewer.

As far as I am concerned, a review’s purpose is to provide information to other readers—information beyond the often inaccurate and occasionally spoiler-ridden back cover blurb, or the well chosen excerpt on the author’s or publisher’s sites—so that they, the readers, can make a more informed decision to buy, or pass on, a particular book.

To me as a reader, any review that consists exclusively of “great book! highly recommended!” is completely useless. Unless I know the so-called reviewer’s reading tastes really well, and how they mesh or differ from mine, I’m left with exactly the same frame of reference I had before reading that praise. And even if I do know that person’s tastes, I’m likely to ask a couple of pointed questions before buying the book. In my experience, blind words of praise are probably worse than nothing. (See Street Teams at Dear Author) (more…)

So, I read Sarah McCarty’s Caine’s Reckoning last week. As most of the people who request book reviews from me can attest, I’m a lazy bugger when it comes to writing reviews, especially when the book is dull as dishwater.

Anyway, without further ado, here’s the back cover blurb:

Caine Allen is a hardened Texas Ranger, definitely not the marrying kind. But when he rescues a kidnapped woman and returns her to town, the preacher calls in a favor. One Caine’s honor won’t let him refuse.

From the moment he beds Desi, Caine knows turmoil will follow. Desi might have the face of a temptress, but she also has a will of iron and while she needs his protection, she’s determined that no man will control her again. They establish an uneasy bond, but it still isn’t enough for Caine. He wants all Desi has to offer. He wants her screams, her moans, her demands…everything. Yet there’s still a bounty on Desi’s head and keeping her satisfied is proving easier than keeping her alive.

VERDICT

I loved this book. I really did.

One of the reasons I love Ms McCarty’s stories is because of her ability to deliver the reader into the psyche of the characters in her books. I love when I can get to know the people in a book on an intimate level, rather than just observing them as an outsider.

As I do with the books that I really love, I like to look at the characters individually, so here goes:

The Heroine

Desi’s story is an extremely tragic one, the only survivor when a group of Comancheros attack her home, killing all of her family, with the exception of her, and her twin sister, Ari, who was taken away to God-knows-where.

Much of Desi’s sorrow stemmed from the knowledge that she had never appreciated how lucky she was, and how pampered and spoiled her life was, before everything was so cruelly ripped from her. The loss of her sister is one thing that haunts her, yet she holds on to the belief that Ari is still alive.

I liked Desi, because she was a victim, who refused to behave like one. She refused to be beaten down by life, and had the courage to keep fighting, even when the odds were heavily weighted against her. Having said that, I did find myself wanting to hug her, and tell her that she wasn’t to blame for any of the things that had happened to her.

She was a mass of contradictions, in that she could be feisty as hell, when faced with a bunch of men trying to hurt her, yet she had a fragility about her that was quite touching. She also had a very tender side, which became more evident, as her trust in Caine grew.

For a book to work for me, the heroine has to be spot on, and I think that Desi was. She wasn’t annoyingly feisty (read: assholic), and she wasn’t as dumb as a box of rocks. That pretty much made her perfect in my eyes.

The Hero

Caine Allen is very typical, as McCarty heroes go. He’s sexy, he’s confident, he’s possessive, and once he falls in love, he loves with everything that he is. How can anybody not love a hero like that?

Also, as well as all of the above, he was likeable. I’ve read so many books where the hero is actually so unbearable, that it’s been hard for me, the reader, to understand why the heroine would fall for such an arsehole. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case with Caine.

The story starts with Caine and his posse tracking a bunch of ruffians who’d kidnapped the sheriff’s wife, and a few other women, including Desi.

When Caine first meets Desi, she’s trying to defend herself from one of the kidnappers who’s determined to get hold of her. Caine is mightily impressed by Desi’s wicked right knee, as well as her courage. He becomes smitten with her then and there, and when the town preacher calls in a favour, he doesn’t hesitate much to make Desi his.

Caine was a surprisingly well-rounded character, and I loved that he was able to find humour in any situation, even when dealing with Desi’s understandable reticence, and her constant self-flagellation.

It was the little things that he did for our heroine, that made this reader totally fall for him. There was a scene where he brought Desi chocolate that totally melted my heart. There was also a scene where he washes Desi’s hair for her. He was so gentle and sweet with her that it almost brough tears to my eyes.

“No one had washed her hair since she was a child. She’d always been too impatient to wait on a maid, and quite frankly had considered another’s hands on her an intrusion, but Caines’s touch was different. Firm and gentle, it seemed more like a caress than a functional act, and the places his fingers lingered seemed to find the last corded bits of tension within her, and unraveled them one slow circle at a time. He pressed gently at her temples and she groaned. How could such a big man be so gentle?”

That was such an “awwww shucks” moment.

The Secondary Characters

There were a whole host of secondary characters to get to grips with, but that wasn’t so surprising, seeing as CR is the first book in the Hell’s Eight series. I have to say though, at no point was I overwhelmed by the number of secondaries, as every person who appeared in the book had a good reason for being there.

I was most fascinated by Sam and Tracker, who were both Hell’s Eight men. Sam had a bit of a thing for Desi, and didn’t mind that Caine knew it, which I thought was quite sweet. He seemed to be the most easy going of the two men, but this may have just been a front.

Tracker was much harder to gauge. He was the quintessential darkly brooding hero, didn’t say much, but when he spoke, he was quite compelling. I’m really looking forward to his story.

Tia, another secondary character, was the Hell’s Eight house-keeper. She seemed to be the obligatory Mammie-type character, equipped with a quick temper, and a warm heart.

There were other characters, including the villain of the piece, but I just can’t be arsed writing about them.

One of the things that I appreciate most about McCarty’s stories, is that they aren’t just about swapping bodily fluids as often as possible, in as many positions as possible, with as many people as possible.
Although Desi and Caine spent a lot of time getting horizontal, the scenes were timely, beautifully written, and really demonstrated the difference between erotic romance and some of the smutty pretenders out there.

Caine’s Reckoning is definitely a character-led story, so for the readers who crave fast-paced action, and guns flaring on every other page, this may not be the book for you.
However if you appreciate a slower sensual ride, where you have time to smell the roses, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, and fall in love, then I would highly recommend Caine’s Reckoning.

You can buy Caine’s Reckoning here, and visit Sarah McCarty here.

I was reading the comments over at the SB’s site, when I came across a link that lead me to a snarky take of Anne Rice’s Amazon Meltdown.

I didn’t know anything about it, so reading it was a real treat.

This is definitely how NOT to respond to a review:

“Seldom do I really answer those who criticize my work. In fact, the entire development of my career has been fueled by my ability to ignore denigrating and trivializing criticism as I realize my dreams and my goals. However there is something compelling about Amazon’s willingness to publish just about anything, and the sheer outrageous stupidity of many things you’ve said here that actually touches my proletarian and Democratic soul.

Also I use and enjoy Amazon and I do read the reviews of other people’s books in many fields. In sum, I believe in what happens here. And so, I speak. First off, let me say that this is addressed only to some of you, who have posted outrageously negative comments here, and not to all. You are interrogating this text from the wrong perspective. Indeed, you aren’t even reading it. You are projecting your own limitations on it. And you are giving a whole new meaning to the words “wide readership.” And you have strained my Dickensean principles to the max.

I’m justifiably proud of being read by intellectual giants and waitresses in trailer parks,in fact, I love it, but who in the world are you? Now to the book. Allow me to point out: nowhere in this text are you told that this is the last of the chronicles, nowhere are you promised curtain calls or a finale, nowhere are you told there will be a wrap-up of all the earlier material.

The text tells you exactly what to expect. And it warns you specifically that if you did not enjoy Memnoch the Devil, you may not enjoy this book. This book is by and about a hero whom many of you have already rejected. And he tells you that you are likely to reject him again. And this book is most certainly written — every word of it — by me. If and when I can’t write a book on my own, you’ll know about it. And no, I have no intention of allowing any editor ever to distort, cut, or otherwise mutilate sentences that I have edited and re-edited, and organized and polished myself.

I fought a great battle to achieve a status where I did not have to put up with editors making demands on me, and I will never relinquish that status. For me, novel writing is a virtuoso performance. It is not a collaborative art. Back to the novel itself: the character who tells the tale is my Lestat. I was with him more closely than I have ever been in this novel; his voice was as powerful for me as I’ve ever heard it. I experienced break through after break through as I walked with him, moved with him, saw through his eyes. What I ask of Lestat, Lestat unfailingly gives.

For me, three hunting scenes, two which take place in hotels — the lone woman waiting for the hit man, the slaughter at the pimp’s party — and the late night foray into the slums –stand with any similar scenes in all of the chronicles. They can be read aloud without a single hitch. Every word is in perfect place. The short chapter in which Lestat describes his love for Rowan Mayfair was for me a totally realized poem. There are other such scenes in this book. You don’t get all this? Fine. But I experienced an intimacy with the character in those scenes that shattered all prior restraints, and when one is writing one does have to continuously and courageously fight a destructive tendency to inhibition and restraint. Getting really close to the subject matter is the achievement of only great art.

Now, if it doesn’t appeal to you, fine. You don’t enjoy it? Read somebody else. But your stupid arrogant assumptions about me and what I am doing are slander. And you have used this site as if it were a public urinal to publish falsehood and lies. I’ll never challenge your democratic freedom to do so, and yes, I’m answering you, but for what it’s worth, be assured of the utter contempt I feel for you, especially those of you who post anonymously (and perhaps repeatedly?) and how glad I am that this book is the last one in a series that has invited your hateful and ugly responses.

Now, to return to the narrative in question: Lestat’s wanting to be a saint is a vision larded through and through with his characteristic vanity. It connects perfectly with his earlier ambitions to be an actor in Paris, a rock star in the modern age. If you can’t see that, you aren’t reading my work. In his conversation with the Pope he makes observations on the times which are in continuity with his observations on the late twentieth century in The Vampire Lestat, and in continuity with Marius’ observations in that book and later in Queen of the Damned.

The state of the world has always been an important theme in the chronicles. Lestat’s comments matter. Every word he speaks is part of the achievement of this book. That Lestat renounced this saintly ambition within a matter of pages is plain enough for you to see. That he reverts to his old self is obvious, and that he intends to complete the tale of Blackwood Farm is also quite clear.

There are many other themes and patterns in this work that I might mention — the interplay between St.Juan Diago and Lestat, the invisible creature who doesn’t “exist” in the eyes of the world is a case in point. There is also the theme of the snare of Blackwood Farm, the place where a human existence becomes so beguiling that Lestat relinquishes his power as if to a spell. The entire relationship between Lestat and Uncle Julien is carefully worked out. But I leave it to readers to discover how this complex and intricate novel establishes itself within a unique, if not unrivalled series of book. There are things to be said. And there is pleasure to be had. And readers will say wonderful things about Blood Canticle and they already are.

There are readers out there and plenty of them who cherish the individuality of each of the chronicles which you so flippantly condemn. They can and do talk circles around you. And I am warmed by their response. Their letters, the papers they write in school, our face to face exchanges on the road — these things sustain me when I read the utter trash that you post. But I feel I have said enough.

If this reaches one reader who is curious about my work and shocked by the ugly reviews here, I’ve served my goals. And Yo, you dude, the slang police! Lestat talks like I do. He always has and he always will. You really wouldn’t much like being around either one of us. And you don’t have to be. If any of you want to say anything about all this by all means Email me at Anneobrienrice@mac.com. And if you want your money back for the book, send it to 1239 First Street, New Orleans, La, 70130. I’m not a coward about my real name or where I live. And yes, the Chronicles are no more! Thank God!”

Classic. I wish I’d been around when she went batshit crazy. I would have had a field day reading the ten million blogs that would have taken the piss out of her.

Talk about Abilify withdrawal.

Ahhh, the good old days, they sure don’t make authors like they used to. Oh wait, LKH is still carrying the flag isn’t she, so all is right with the world.