Oh ... dear. I've discovered the problem with casually mentioning that I read vampire novels to one of my co-workers. She is now loaning me books. Which, usually, I'd be all for. But I suspect her taste in supernatural fiction is not mine. I found Wolf at the Door sitting on my desk this morning. The back cover blub header says (in yellow and all caps) "When danger meets desire ..."
Who do I blame for the proliferation of the paranormal/supernatural romance genre? Because I've read very few that don't make me roll my eyes.
Jilli, are you mad?
Sullivan Quinn didn’t travel 3,000 miles from his native Ireland and his wolf pack just to chase rabidly after the most delectable quarry he’s ever seen. Quinn is in America on a mission—to warn his Other brethren of a shadowy group willing to use murder and mayhem to bring them down. But one whiff of this Foxwoman’s delicious honeysuckle fragrance and he knows that she is more than a colleague or a conquest…she is his mate.
This may possibly be the greatest novel ever written! (In exactly the same way that
Snakes On A Plane
is poised to become the greatest film ever made.)
Hey, Jilli, did you ever read the one I gave you?
Hey, Jilli, did you ever read the one I gave you?
No, it's still sitting on the "to be read" stack. I occasionally look at the cover and giggle, is that enough?
But one whiff of this Foxwoman’s delicious honeysuckle fragrance and he knows that she is more than a colleague or a conquest…she is his mate.
Is this by the psychic oceleot romance writer?
Maybe not a white guy, but I bet you've seen a picture of a rapper, say, with them.
Generally not in a single one, though.
I do accept that I wouldn't actually point and laugh. Well, I might point and laugh at ND, but probably not because of his hair. Nonetheless, it's a pretty unusual style for a guy (a single braid? Totally normal for a guy with long hair. French braid? Pretty darn unusual. Trying to say the french braid makes it look like short hair? Um)
Something literary from the NYTimes review of a new book, Flapper.
If "Flapper" does ascribe the birth of the jazz age to the nubile young Zelda Sayre, Fitzgerald's future bride — whose taste for mischief once led her to pin mistletoe to her derrière — it soon moves on to other examples. Consider the quaint courtroom case of Eugenia Kelly, a 19-year-old heiress whose mother, Helen Kelly, feared that Eugenia had become the victim of a "tango pirate" and was "likely to become depraved." For Miss Kelly an inheritance was at stake, and it trumped the tango pirate's charms. But for other, less privileged American changelings, there was every reason to abandon old ideas of decorum and sample the jazziest of the new.
It is a sad comment on our society that so few aspire to be tango pirates anymore.
her new musical, Jesus Christ Mary Sue.
BWAH!
My step-mother just sent me a couple books by some friends of hers. They are Tony Hillerman/Angel crossovers. Seriously. A Navajo cop (although NM State Police, not Tribal Police) gets turned into a vampire, but he's still good and fights (supernatural) crime.
I read the first one in one biking session. The plot isn't all that bad, but my word. The writing is atrocious. And I'm as close to the perfect target audience as you can get!
Oh, I think I read one of those!
