Sensuality rating: Steamed and Chocolate Dipped

I was a little nervous starting this. Florand had two five star books in a row, for me — could she possibly pull off a hat trick? Yes. Yes she could.

Magalie, the daughter of a trans-continental marriage, spent her youth being shuttled between France and America.  As an adult, she made the most secure, permanent home possible for herself in the whimsical, witch themed chocolate shop of her aunts, cooking chocolat chaud that she infuses with appropriate wishes for its drinkers. (One of these fortunate drinkers was Cade Corey, heroine of The Chocolate Thief, and it worked out very well for her.) When world famous patissier Phillipe Lyonnais decides to open a new shop on her street, Magalie feels threatened enough to move out of her comfort zone and beard the lion in his den. Phillipe tries to soothe her with one of his exquisite handmade creations, she defiantly refuses… and the battle is on.

The Chocolate Kiss is very like Florand’s previous amour et chocolat books in many ways, but has a few key differences. In this story, both characters put their heart and soul into their delicious sweets, and their increasingly desperate efforts to make the other have a taste makes for one of the most delicious wars in the history of romance. Phillipe continually outdoes himself in dreaming up symbolically meaningful pastry to woo Magalie.  The defiant Magalie tries to infuse humility for him into her chocolate, yet keep unconsciously stirring her own unadmitted longing for Phillipe into it, causing him to be constantly pursued by random chocolate drinkers.

The story also differs from the previous books in being unexpectedly sad, at least for me.  Magalie is so wounded underneath the desperate armor of her Parisian chic, I couldn’t help crying for her.  For awhile I was even aghast about Phillipe’s seeming indifference to how much his shop threatened Magalie, because I identified so strongly with her that despite her aunts’ unconcern, I didn’t realize it was never a genuine threat.

Florand makes art and magic with words as she describes how Phillipe and Magalie make art and magic with food. Every word had meaning; I had to keep slowing down and going back, to savor phrases that had rushed by too fast to be appreciated.  She fills her books with rich metaphor — like all of her food magicians, Phillipe is his creations, but he is also a lion, and a prince, and he’s wary that a witch might turn him into a beast (or a frog.)  Magalie is a witch trying to stifle her longing to be a princess, but she’s also Rapunzel trapped in her tower, and a dessert that melts into goo from Phillipe’s attention. It sounds overly complicated and mishmash, but it all swirls together into a perfect mix of flavors.

This phrase struck me as being representative of Florand’s unique style:

“His laughter expanded into the whole room, his energy embracing everyone and everything in it. And that bell in her shop rang again, pure and clear, piercing her through the heart — which hurt like hell — and holding her there, impaled for somebody else’s pleasure.”

I love how her characters embrace metaphor so thoroughly, they make it almost literal. They also invariably think along the same lines — while Magalie tries to make sure no chocolate skulls are left off the fence that guards her Baba Yaga display, Phillipe immediately notices the one that’s fallen, which means the fence can no longer keep a prince out. This completely works with the gentle magic realism that’s especially strong in this story.

I read this with gusto, making gleeful noises and awwws and sobs as I went. I adored Phillipe, so large and competent and sure of himself, yet so vulnerable as he falls hopelessly in love with a walled-off princess who thinks she can’t have a prince.  (I was amused when I looked up “Magalie” and discovered it means “pearl” — she could not be more aptly named.) He truly needs the patience of someone who takes the utmost, delicate care with his work. And I cheered as Magalie starts letting her armor drop enough to enjoy a run — impossible in the high heels she unusually insists on — and even begins to believe in the power of her own magic.  It’s yet another 5 stars — or maybe that should be 3 Michelin stars. You can buy it here.

Published by Kensington. Review copy from the public library.

Sensuality Rating: lightly steamy

The Challenge: Read a book by an author with more than one book in your TBR

Gayle Wilson is one of my favorite Harlequin writers. Her historicals have a emotional quality that reminds me of Mary Balogh.  I’ve also enjoyed several of her contemporaries, but sadly, this romantic suspense story left me cold.

Suffering from severe PTSD, Rafe Sinclair left both the CIA and his lover Elizabeth; he’s spent the past six years doing carpentry in an isolated cabin. But the past refuses to let Rafe alone, and a threat to Elizabeth is all that’s needed to flush him out. Now he needs to discover if the despicable terrorist he killed six years ago could somehow have survived to haunt them.

Nothing about this story ever caught fire for me. Instead of sympathetic, I felt impatient with Rafe for deserting Elizabeth instead of seeking treatment for his PTSD. (And unless I missed it, he never does — they just decide to live with it!) The suspense isn’t suspenseful. And there was way too much backstory for a book that’s supposed to be beginning a series — it’s a spin-off, and tons of previous storylines and characters clutter up the place.

This isn’t much of a review, but if I keep going I’ll just put myself to sleep. I’m giving this book 2 stars, for some tender moments between lovers who could never forget each other. It’s out of print, but you can buy it used or for Kindle here.

Published by Harlequin. Review copy obtained from paperbackswap.com

If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

 I don’t know. She might get mentioned in the newspaper for having so many books…

What is your mom not very good at?

 I want to say “getting rid of books,” as a joke.

What does your mom do for a job?

 A librarian, previously.

What is your mom’s favorite food?

Well, I don’t know what goes on in there when I’m not around. Because the smell.

What makes you proud of your mom?

I’m proud of her because she’s gotten rid of so many books already!

How are you and your mom different?

I think it’s because I’m a man and she’s a woman.

Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?

 My arms! Also her office, because it has her computer and stuff.

Sensuality rating: Steamy.

I wish I were good with photoshop, because it would be so fun to depict this story ala Twitter:

Lee Davis @leemealone Hey, it’s great to be back with the people who truly love me. #subtweeting #womenbebitches

Juliet Browne @needsnoromeo That awkward moment when your lover returns from the dead right after you finally slept with another man.

I have to joke a little, because this was such an intense read. Reading the first half felt like someone had grabbed my heart and was gently squeezing. The second half changed direction, but was equally powerful.

When Jules gets the news that her lover Lee hadn’t died in Afghanistan after all, her joy is mixed with apprehension.  For the past two years, she’s been playing the grieving fiance for Lee’s family and friends — the grief was completely genuine, but she couldn’t bear to tell them that she’d rejected Lee’s proposal before he went on tour. Lee, severely traumatized from his time as a POW, is suspicious of Juliet’s motives when he learns of her involvement in his family’s life and acceptance of his estate. When she doesn’t immediately confess her deception, he embarks on one of his own to punish her, pretending he doesn’t remember anything past his intention of proposing.

The vindictive hero/misjudged heroine dynamic is one that I absolutely love, and which we don’t find much in realistic contemporary romance any more, because it’s hard to write a hero who isn’t a despicable jerk. Here there’s such strong backstory that it works — both Lee and Juliet have been through a wringer, and it’s easy to cut them some slack. Lee’s frequent pangs of conscience and inconvenient feelings for Juliet also help redeem him.  As is common with this sort of story, Juliet comes very close to seeming like a martyr, but again, her history and character makes it plausible. And I vastly admired her clear-sighted and honest reaction when the truth finally comes out.

The story loses some steam after the big reveal, going on to concentrate on Lee’s difficulties with PTSD and integrating back into normal life; the two halves aren’t a seamless fit, but both evoked strong emotion.  The depiction of how it feels to be Lee is evocative and touching, with both deeply upsetting and positive aspects. Here he is after soaking up his first rain in years:

When at last he climbed into the car, water had plastered his hair to his skull and the sodden t-shirt clung to his body, revealing every rib, every sinew of lean, wasted muscle. But his green eyes were luminous, as though the rain had filled him to the brim and spilled over.

This is the final book in a series I hadn’t previously read, and the previous couples are big parts of the story; although it stood alone fine, I suspect reading them all in order adds even more to the experience. (There are also some possible spoilers.)

Four stars for good writing, great characterizations, and my favorite gut-punch. You can buy it from Amazon here.

Published by Harlequin. Review copy provided by NetGalley.

Lately I’ve been wondering if I should give up on the “In Death” series. Thirty-six books plus novellas in, they’re still decent reads, with suspense, and humor, and characters I’ve grown fond of. But I’m also racking up a list of annoyances.

– Eve is always right. Not that she doesn’t make mistakes, but she’s an unbeatable, unfoolable judge of character. This leaves very little room for real mystery of the “whodunnit” variety. There’s no point in suspecting someone Eve doesn’t suspect.

– Only Eve and Roarke are allowed to have conflict. It’s great that they do have conflict, and that their relationship continues to evolve. But all other relationships in their sphere are eternally roses and sunshine. Love happens at first sight and with complete understanding. Parenthood is nothing but smiles and burbles. Perhaps the intent is to increase the comfort level of the book, when so much that happens in them — murder, rape, torture — is upsetting to think about.  But part of Eve’s journey is learning how to have people in her life, how to be a good friend. How can she fully achieve this when none of the demands of friendship are ever made upon her, when she never has to provide a shoulder to cry on or a couch for the night? And really… the secondary characters are just getting dull.

– The worldbuilding is inconsistent. This is perhaps an inevitable result of writing a futuristic series for almost twenty years. Technology catches up, or goes in a different direction.  What something futuristic — a ‘link, an autochef — meant at the beginning of the series now means something else.  I tried my geek husband on the series and he liked it enough to read more than one, but as a science fiction reader, he just couldn’t take it for long.

I’ve seen people argue that the series has gone on long enough and should just stop. I wouldn’t necessarily say that, but I think it would be great if it would slow down. If Robb didn’t write so many books, so fast. If she took time to give some thought to what could happen to the characters besides another crime to solve, to what real life holds for most people, to what the future might be like aside from her original vision. For now, what we’re getting is In Dearth.

There was a longish thread where at least one Anom (not my typo, people) defended poor lovely Jill and the publisher as a whole. Pretty much everyone else, from Erastes to Brita Addams, J. S. Wayne to Lori Green, and other Noble Romance authors, were pretty pissed at a) how Jill Noble had abandoned ship, and b) how things didn’t change by much with her exit.

(You can still read some of the posts by checking the link round up at Bryl R Tyne–some of them take you to dead air, but the ones still standing are worth spending a few minutes on)

Well, this is close to a year later, and things are…yeah, you guessed, pretty much the same. Different flavor, same bullshit. Jane at Dear Author shared a bit of what one author is going through, trying to get her work distributed to the venue where it sells best.

Charming, eh?

And then we learned some more (from author Kari Gregg):

For the love of all that is holy, yes, AVOID NOBLE ROMANCE. You can read about my experience with Noble releasing a second edition paperback of my Spoils of War that is a grossly inferior and substandard product here. Well, that has details I was willing to give the public, anyway. Noble released the second edition paperback in October 2012 without notifying me so I was totally unaware it existed or that there were problems until April 2013. Dimensions that are approx. 11?x9?, no title page, no page headers, no page numbers, no chapter breaks…and readers had been buying that atrocity for six months. Good God.

I’m filing a claim against Noble in Georgia magistrate court, not only due to the second edition frankenpod but also issues I haven’t mentioned or discussed in public. Unless writers would like to follow my footsteps into court…no. Just no. Stay away.

(read more here)

Authors, it behooves you to beware. The rest of us stare in amazement at the shenanigans and implosions, but these are your careers. Even in the many cases where the writing income is minimal, it’s surely not worth the headache, ulcer and general aggravation, right?

Edited to add: author Brita Addams has a current post on her own issues with Noble Romance here

Further edit, May 3rd: author J. S. Wayne posts about breaches of contract and reversion of rights

Edited to correct spelling–apologies to both authors!

Sensuality rating: Steamy

The Challenge: Read a book by a “New To Me” author.

To find a book for this challenge, I  checked out my print TBR, sorted by oldest received. It was an eye-opening experience. Book after book — more than 50 — by authors whom I’ve glommed, many I’d consider favorites. And I’ve owned these books for years.

It helped me get tough when I finally got to the NTM authors. Was this someone I wanted to spend time on, time I could be spending on unread Jo Goodman or Laura Kinsale books? I almost always go through a few culls before settling on my final TBR challenge book, but this time, I got rid of 7 books first. My most effective TBR challenge month so far!

Painted by the Sun managed to catch my restless attention with an unusual premise: the heroine is searching for her missing child, who was sent away on an “orphan train”  ten years previously. I’ve read many children’s books about the orphan trains, but I think this is the first time I’ve encountered them in a romance.  The premise is also interesting because Shea is working as a traveling photographer, a complex profession in 1875. The title comes from a quote by Ambrose Bierce: “Photography is a picture painted by the sun.”

While trying to take a picture of a hanging, Shea fall afoul of Judge Cameron Gallimore, a man who’s pretty sick of having to sentence people to death. He puts her camera — and her — into temporary custody. At first Shea is heartsick over the missed financial opportunity, but then comes around to the judge’s point of view: “she didn’t want to be able to make hundreds of copies of what she had seen, or relive what happened every time she did. She didn’t want to implant that image in anyone else’s mind…. She was a photographer, a business woman, not a mercenary. She was proud of what she did, and she would never have been able to be proud of this.”

Shea and Cameron next meet under even more fraught circumstances, when she saves him from men trying to take revenge for their friend’s death, and is badly wounded in the process. After Cam takes her home to be nursed by his housebound sister Lily,  Shea comes to care for the whole family and deeply envies their close bonds — especially with Cam’s ten year old son, Rand.

I can’t talk much more about the plot without spoilers, but I will say it’s very heavy in coincidences; by the middle of the book, the implausibility of it all was getting exasperating. By the end however, the threads had all been woven together with surprising delicacy, and I was once again charmed as I was at the beginning.

There’s a lot of heavy stuff going on in this story; every character has at least one source of major angst in their life, much of it centered around the Civil War. It’s a surprisingly easy, flowing read, but I think that’s partially because many of the angsty plot points get shortchanged.  The slow-growing romance is very tender and supportive, and the various child characters tugged effectively at my heartstrings,  but overall I don’t think it quite reached its potential. I’m giving it 3 1/2 stars; it’s out of print but available through paperbackswap.com or you can buy it used here.

Published by Bantam Books. Review copy owned by me for so long, I don’t remember how I got it.

About two weeks ago, GoodReads announced they had been swallowed bought by Amazon, and I’ve haven’t written anything worth calling a review since. Even an exceptionally good book (Big Boy by Ruthie Knox) just got a short paragraph out of me. I’ve dried up.

My feelings are confused, not particularly logical, and definitely hypocritical. I buy stuff from Amazon, more than I want to, because it’s so freakin’ convenient and their customer service is so good. I don’t usually buy ebooks from them, because I prefer to support the standard epub format, but I’ll give in to a good sale. I’ve even left the occasional review.

But — and it’s a big but — I use a different name there, and I don’t usually review books. And I couldn’t even tell you why, exactly, except that I don’t like their reviewing culture, and I don’t like their untrustworthy reviews, and I just don’t want to be a part of it.

And now I’m a part of it whether I like it or not. Unless I give up all the benefits GoodReads has brought into my life.

I’m just depressed as hell, and who can write reviews when they’re depressed? I can’t even get up the energy to make corrections on GoodReads anymore. So there are typos and spelling errors, who cares… it’s not my home anymore, I don’t need to keep it tidy. (I suspect I’m not the only person feeling this way, since I seem to see more errors than I used to. And though only one of my friends has officially left the site, my updates feed has slowed down, too.)

GoodReads had a unique spirit. People could say what they wanted to say, rate how they wanted to rate. It was all about the users and how they wanted to use the site. That’s spirit has been eroding for quite a while now, and there’s little doubt it will erode further.

But I can’t say this is about just one thing. It’s partially rage that unpaid librarians did so much work for nothing. It’s partially fear of change. It’s partially not wanting words that I’ve poured my heart and soul into to be out there for Amazon to use as they will in their quest for world domination.  I recognize that I get something from GoodReads in return for the content I provide, and that it should be a fair exchange. But it doesn’t feel like a fair exchange any more.

Really, there’s no point in even trying to find the right words, the right reason. I just don’t have it in me to review books right now. And maybe it’ll come back, and maybe it won’t.

Sensuality rating: On the tamer end of Torrid

Merry is happy to have found a job in Wyoming, near her closest friend, Grace. And after years of fruitlessly trying to find her niche, it’s also work she loves — turning a ghost town into a destination of historic interest. She’s crushed to discover that there’s a legal dispute over the project’s funding, and that she was hired mainly as a cheap interim measure, with no real power to do anything.

Desperate to make the restoration of Providence succeed, Merry covertly asks her neighbor Shane to repair the town’s buildings. Shane agrees, without telling Merry that he is the one disputing the funding; it’ll let him keep an eye on what’s going on, and perhaps help him stop the project he despises.  But as they get to know each other, Shane finds himself drawn to Merry’s enthusiasm, appreciation for domestic history… and wide, smiling mouth.  Against their better judgement they wind up in bed together, leaving Shane with a big problem: “Why the hell did her greatest passion have to be the one thing he couldn’t support?”

I had trouble getting into this at first — Merry seemed like such a sad sack, and Shane started out so cold. But Shane heats up very nicely, gradually noticing Merry’s attractive qualities — first her sweet round face and wide mouth, leading into her cleavage. This makes Merry come across as attractive in a believably ordinary sort of way. She thinks of herself as big and awkward, wears mostly funny t-shirts, and has no idea how to fix herself up, telling Grace, “When I put eyeliner on, I look like a five-year-old playing dress up. Or an eighty-year-old alcoholic trying to recapture her glory days.”  Even with Grace’s expert help, she knows that “[her] liner would be smudged and smeared within an hour. Her body rejected any transplants of prettiness.” That rang so true for me, and I enjoyed seeing her more subtle prettiness come through for Shane.

And Merry’s character turns around completely, the desperate, needy, unfocused woman who thinks, “I’m not even geeky enough to be good at being a sci-fi geek” (oh, I relate!) revealing herself to be strong in an unusual and striking way.  Merry’s life has been hard and it’s tempered her, because she’s refused to let it break her. By the end of the book, I admired her tremendously.

The depiction of Merry’s mother also stood out for me. The “hippie mom” is such an annoying stereotype, usually floating around wearing patchouli and sensing auras. Merry’s hippie mom wasn’t all that different from any other young single mom who struggled financially, did her best, and is now pretty much like any other middle aged mom. (With one minor exception which I won’t spoil.) Believably, she has a lot of sadness over Merry’s less than ideal childhood: “I wish I could’ve given you that when you were a little girl. A nuclear family. The American dream.”

As you can probably tell, the book hit me in a very personal way, which might not translate to other readers.  And Shane’s backstory and journey don’t have the authenticity and surprise of Merry’s, going in a predictable direction.  I liked the rest of the book so much I’m not really grading down for that, and give it 4 stars.

This is the second in a series, not counting several novellas; Grace and Cole from Close Enough to Touch are featured characters, but I think it would stand alone just fine.  You can buy it here.

Published by Harlequin. Review copy provided by netgalley.

Sensuality rating: Steamy

A huge, inarticulate guy who’s shy with women — how could I not want to read more about Hal Waterman, after he was introduced in The Wedding Gamble?

Hal is instantly smitten with his best friend Nicky’s new sister-in-law, Elizabeth — which is why he instantly runs. The son of a noted ton beauty, he has no interest in having yet another selfish, demanding woman in his life. Besides, such an exquisite woman could never be interested in a big lout like him.

But when Elizabeth is widowed seven years later, at a time when Nicky’s entire family is abroad, Hall feels obligated to offer his assistance.  He finds her sorely in need of help, since she’s been cherished and protected her entire married life — including being protected from the fact that her husband was terrible at managing money. Hal takes on the role of helpful family friend while sternly admonishing himself not to consider being anything more. He has no idea that Elizabeth’s artist’s eye is fascinated by his unfashionably muscular body and handsome profile.

This book is all about the characters — in fact, every time the plot seems to be going to a possibly exciting or scary place, the issue is resolved fairly quickly.  Being an angst-whore, I thought that a bit of a shame, but it’s a charming story regardless, because Hal and Elizabeth are worthy characters going through interesting changes.

Everything we see about Hal shows how intelligent, competent and admirable he is — including a touching scene in which his warmhearted mistress urges him to leave her and follow his heart, despite the fact that she obviously adores him. Trust Hal to have a sweet, genuine mistress! (And I wish the poor woman had her own happy ending.) Hal might seem almost too perfect if it weren’t for his genuine trouble with speaking. Because of a childhood stutter, he’s learned to concentrate on the most important idea he’s trying to convey; his elliptical speech drops most articles and pronouns in a way that can make him appear cloddish. He’s also generally at a loss in an argument, because his brain outruns his ability to speak.

Elizabeth’s character is also sympathetic — she’s not a fool, but she’s been sheltered for so long, she has trouble finding her feet and knowing who to trust.  One of the lovely things about the story is that though Hal is only to happy to advise and protect Elizabeth, he also respects her talent and encourages her to live a life beyond being a proper, helpless lady. Elizabeth blossoms to the point that, in the end, she seduces him — pretending to want to paint him, she persuades him to strip. I was charmed by how the ladylike Elizabeth is so entranced by Hal’s body, she can’t stop herself from staring and touching. It also shows how she’s gained confidence in her ability to make decisions, and learned to trust her own feelings.

My gut is sort of leaning towards a 3 1/2 rating for this because of the overall lack of tension, but I’m going with a 4 because it’s unusual and thematically interesting.  It’s no longer in print but easy to find used, or you can buy it for Kindle here.

Published by Harlequin. Review copy purchased by me.