Naughty Norsemen: Kiss of Pride by Sandra Hill

• Title: Kiss of Pride
• Author: Sandra Hill
• Series: Deadly Angels, Book 1
• Genre(s): Contemporary, PNR
• Publisher: Avon, April 2012
• Source: Public library ($4.74 ebook)
• Length: 309 pages
• Trope(s): Vikings!
• Quick blurb: Vikings! Vampires! Angels! Time Travel! Satan’s Minions Host a Sin Cruise! Home Improvement!
• Quick review: An utterly goofy and stupidly entertaining read.
• Grade: A-

“Oh my God! It has a halo.”

He jerked to a sitting position and glanced down to his cockstand, which resembled a fat standing candle sitting in a circle of light. Breathing a sigh of relief…he said, “That’s not a halo. It’s just the moon hitting off that round mirror over there and reflecting back here.”

“If you say so.” She was clearly unconvinced. “I think it’s kind of cute, that you would have a halo around your penis.”

Cute? A man does not want his cock to be cute. “It is not a halo.”

She leaned forward to study it closer. “Let’s see if you taste holy.”

HOLY CRAP, this was fun. ALL CAPS FUN, I TELL YOU.

This was the only thing that showed up when I searched my public library’s ebook collection for “Viking,” and I am not ashamed to admit that I fully expected to hate it. Silly me. This book was exactly what I needed to restore my faith in Romancelandia after my ill-advised adventure into the Old-Skool Archives.

Glancing downward, he realized that he was naked. Not even his trusted sword Death Flame was at hand.

Author Sandra Hill is apparently the reigning Queen of Vikings, and Kiss of Pride is the first book in her current series. I am not a PNR reader, so there might have been worldbuilding weirdness or plot holes that I missed, but whatever — I was having TOO MUCH FUN TO NOTICE.

“Near-sex?” he repeated.

Trond explained, in detail.

Holy lutefisk! “And we’re permitted to do that?”

It would take an entire chapter to explain how Vikings and vampires and angels and time travel all smush up together coherently, but Hill somehow manages to make it work. And amongst all the one-liners and fantasy nonsense, she layers in some thought-provoking religious and moral discussions on the nature of sin and redemption. Yes, really.

“I am hoping that my punishment for near-sex will not be nearly as great as full-blown swiving.”

And even with a mostly celibate hero, the sexy times — especially the “no-touching near-sex” scene — were hot. Capital-H Hot.

“If you do that, mayhap I will put you on all fours, like a mare, pressing your face to the floor, and kiss your arse cheeks, afore licking your woman-channel down to your pleasure bud.”

“What?” she shrieked.

Ooops. I might have gone too far. “Sorry. Forget I said that.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll never forget that. Now shut your eyes and stop interrupting, or we’ll be here all night.”

Also, I cried. But only once.

“Let me see if I understand. You’ve been given permission to marry me, and I’ll become immortal, sort of, but it would be as if I were an appendage to you, sort of. Is that right?”

“Sort of,” he said. “So, will you marry me?”

“That is the lamest marriage proposal I have ever heard.”

ANYWAY, the second book in the series was only 99c, so of course I had to buy it, and DUDE! It’s going to be goooood:

Trond has been a gladiator, a cowboy, a ditch digger . . . even a sheik. But now he’s the baddest of them all: a kick-ass Navy SEAL kicking butts of terrorist immortals…

Oh, yeah. I am THERE, and I will have my packets of Holy Water Wipes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Our hero….

…Vikar Sigurdsson hadn’t had sex in a hundred years, and he was not in the greatest of moods. The last time had resulted in two hundred years being added to his penance, and it hadn’t even been good sex.

… By thunder! My brain is a melting puddle of running sex-sap.

…Down, thickening! Down!

…“You excite me,” he explained, pointing to his teeth.

…“Sweetling, there isn’t a religion in the world, in any age, that can stop a man from spilling his seed with great joy.”

…“So, my cockstand is waving at your strawberry fluff. Proceed.”

…“Do not tempt me, wench. If I kiss you, I will not stop there. I will be swiving you continuously ’til your eyeballs roll back in your head and we mark every room in this castle like randy dogs.”

…”If I had to ‘take care’ of tweaking the Twinkie”—he glanced downward at the huge bulge in his underwear—“every time it popped up, I’d have permanent tendonitis in my right hand.”

…An enthusiasm was the Viking male word for an erection. His erection was very enthusiastic.

…Vikar had an “enthusiasm” that had been building for, oh, a hundred years. The “thickening” might very well drag on the floor if he were not so tall, he thought with a Viking bridegroom’s right to overexaggeration on his wedding night. The skalds could no doubt write a saga about it. Or not.

Our heroine…

…“If I want to sin, I’ll sin. Keep all your woo-woo cleansing crap to yourself.”

…She told him to do something to himself that he knew for a fact was physically impossible.

…That’s all she needed. Not only did Lucipires have her in their cross-hairs, drug dealers might be gunning for her, too, and now her boss would be in cahoots with her vampire angel host. Could her life get any better than this?

…She was damn well going to have sex, or someone was going to pay.

…“Show me later. Naked.”

…“Is your heart fluttering, Alex?” “You’re an idiot,” she said.

…“You bastard. You sonofabitch. You ignorant asshole! Don’t you dare tell me to settle down. I am not having sex with you two morons.”

…“A blue steeler? For me?”

…“Have I told you lately how much I love your fierceness?” “Have I told you lately that you talk too much?”

…“Oh please, do not regulate your excitement. Please, jump my bones.”

The worldbuilding….

…“We prefer to think of ourselves as beer-drinking Vikings. We Northmen do love our mead, but a Rolling Rock or Bud will do in a pinch.”

…”Did you show her the Viking S-spot?”

…“I rarely eat hot wings. They stain my fangs.”

…”I remember the time Olga the Big fixed her attentions on Ivak. When he declined her favors, she tried to spear his manparts with a boat oar.”

…“You think lisps are bad? You do not want to see vampires eating corn on the cob.”

…Pensively, he and Trond took bites of their hard pretzels, and chomped, loudly. It was like eating sennights-old manchet bread covered with salt, they’d long ago concluded. Not much taste, but a good way to soak up the beer.

…“Trond!” he shouted out. “Did I tell you there is a barrel of honeyed mead direct from the Norselands hidden in the dungeon behind those boxes of toilet paper?” Before Vikar could finish his sentence, there was a mad scramble of all the vangels for the castle back door.

Tigerland by Sean Kennedy

• Title: Tigerland
• Author: Sean Kennedy
• Series: Tigers & Devils, Book 2
• Genre(s): Contemporary, GLBTQ (M/M)
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press, October 2012
• Source: Amazon ($6.99 ebook)
• Length: 295 pages
• Trope(s): Established Relationship, Smartass Hero, Celebrity Athlete Hero, Beta Hero (x2!), Evil Ex
• Quick blurb: Just as their lives are moving beyond the celebrity-coming-out scrutiny, an attention-whore asshole ex resurfaces to prey on every insecurity.
• Quick review: I think everyone should read this book. But first read Tigers & Devils. And then read them both again because they’re THAT GOOD.
• Grade: A

I reached forward and grabbed Dec’s hand. It pulled him back a little, and he turned, surprised. Then he smiled, a smile so full of love and tenderness it seemed to be brighter than everything around us — the white sand, the sun reflecting off the surface of the waves — it could envelop me and swallow me whole. The mantra I often repeat to myself in one of these rare moments of PDA begins: This is for those times when I want to take his hand, or he wants to take mine, but we don’t feel safe enough. This is for those times other couples get to take for granted, but we have to snatch in limited amounts when they become available to us. This is for those times when I can’t do such a simple thing as hold the hand of Dec as the tiniest gesture of affection and to show him how much I love him.

Simon is the best wanky smartass EVER and Dec is a saint for putting up with him, and I want every couple who feels ashamed or afraid to have lovely intimate moments like these and big fat happily ever afters. Holy CRAP, I love these guys.

One-Quote Review: Bite by Jenny Lyn

• Title: Bite
• Author: Jenny Lyn
• Series: Heated Measures, Book 1
• Genre(s): Contemporary, Erotica
• Publisher: Etopia Press, November 2012
• Source: Provided by the author (99¢ ebook)
• Length: 30 pages
• Trope(s): Smartass Heroine, Food, Tattoos
• Quick blurb: Smartass Heroine (did I mention the heroine is a SMARTASS?)  gets into hot water* with the instructor of her cooking class.
• Quick review: Thirty pages of glorious smartassitude and stupidly hot smexing.
• Grade: A

…My spine straightened at the scolding, but my mouth did what it knew best. “Well, that’s just a waste of perfectly good bourbon, if you ask me.”

…Crisis averted, he’d walked away, leaving me confused, frustrated, but still in possession of my eyebrows and a massive lady boner. I was hot for my teacher. The pork chops could go to hell.

..He flipped the chalkboard over. I read the intimidating words “Artichoke Soufflé,” and before I could perform the rare task of censoring myself, I blurted, “Oh, now you’re just fucking with us.”

…His gaze drifted down to my chest, stopping on the spot where I’d used a blue Sharpie to add the word “Me” behind “Bite,” the name of his restaurant. His eyes flicked back up to my face, staying there as he announced, “Class is cancelled for tonight, ladies.”

So, to hell with my stupid “One-Quote” format. That was all from TWO PAGES from the BEGINNING of this novella, and THEN it started in with the sexy times and I just about LOST IT. I don’t know what “it” was, specifically, but something down below was definitely off its usual axis when that Bite Me apron came off.

You’ll just have to READ IT YOURSELF to find out about the artichokes and the tattoos.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*Yes, I KNOW that was totally cheesy and ridiculously obvious, but I DID IT ANYWAY. Once again proving why I’m a reviewer, not an author.

Dear Santa….

I have been a very good girl this year. Please bring me ALL THE BOOKS.

Vauxhall Gardens: A History
by David E. Coke and Alan Borg

The London Square:
Gardens in the Midst of Town
by Todd Longstaffe-Gowan

The Gentlemen’s Clubs of London
by Anthony Lejeune

The Eighteenth-Century Church in Britain
by Terry Friedman

London Hidden Interiors
Philip Davies

Seventeenth and Eighteenth-Century
Fashion in Detail
by Avril Hart and Susan North

Eighteenth-Century Clothing at Williamsburg
by Linda Baumgarten

These are just a few highlights. My full list is available on Pinterest for your convenience. And in the interests of efficiency gift cards are welcome as well.

Love, Kelly

The Holiday Haul of Half-Off Harlequins

I hate you people. This is ALL YOUR FAULT.

 

Hero count:

5 Mounties, 4 Vikings, 3 spies, 2 knights,
bodyguard, barbarian, mechanic, chieftain,
engineer, earl, farmer & Templar soldier

Let’s take a closer look at that last one, shall we?

Drawn Together By Destiny

Genevieve de Pereille’s music echoed in the hollows of Wolfram’s heart,
pulling him into an unfamiliar world where his knightly vows faded
to a distant murmur. The secret heir to an ancient legacy,
she held him fast with the timeless power of love.

With silver hair and fierce pale eyes, Wolfram stirred something raw
yet beautiful deep inside Genevieve’s very being.
Yet the handsome warrior was responsible for her brother’s death,
and she swore he would never escape her righteous vengeance.

And just in case you didn’t catch the subliminal messaging:

Not just a unicorn – a STARRY UNICORN

Medieval Mania: A Bed of Spices by Barbara Samuel

Way back in September/October, before the World Series of Romance, I was immersed in a period-specific historical binge and never got around to reviewing any of them. To remedy that appalling lapse in blogging etiquette….

Let the Medieval Mania begin!

We’ll embark upon our odyssey through the Middle Ages with the book I’m using as The Gold Standard for medieval romances. No, I haven’t read Roberta Gellis yet; I have about 17 of hers in my TBR and once I start one, I’ll have to read them all.

ANYWAY. This book was one of my first Kindle impulse purchases, and I’m pretty sure it was my gateway drug to the evil realm of Romancelandia. (The “mania” in the theme wasn’t chosen on a whim, trust me.)

• Title: A Bed of Spices
• Author: Barbara Samuel
• Series: N/A
• Genre(s): Historical
• Publisher: Harper Monogram, September 1993; self-published, October 2010
• Source: Amazon, 99¢ promo ($2.99 ebook, free through Kindle Lending)
• Length: 352 pages
• Trope(s): Star-Crossed Lovers, Angst, Reunited
• Quick blurb: Nobleman’s daughter and Jewish student fight for love in medieval Germany
• Quick review: Practically perfect in every way.
• Grade: A+

He did not kiss her, but his eyes held hers as if he had cast some spell, and in his face, she saw the fever of his need. “For this, I have been waiting,” he said in a low, raw voice. “For this, I would die.”

This is one of those books that I feel I could never do justice in a review, other than to say it was BOOK TRANCE from beginning to end. And it was even better the second time when I was reading it more critically with a reviewer’s eye.

A Bed of Spices is a perfectly balanced mix of history, humor, passion, romance, angst, atmosphere, characterization and story-telling. I’m sure I left out other good stuff, but it’s all in there.

For me, this is the epitome of a Star-Crossed Lovers story — and it’s anything but typical. Instead of the usual noble/peasant or bad boy/good girl pairing, we get a couple equally matched in wealth and intelligence, held apart only the yellow star on his tunic.

Samuel brings Frederica and Solomon together unexpectedly:

He was beautiful, as beautiful as a fallen angel or a pagan god. And he stared back at her as if he could not believe she stood there, as if he knew her, as if he were as dazzled as she.

…and lets their relationship grow with some innocent flirting:

“You did not tell me where you came by your ideas,” he prompted.

“I came by mine as you did yours—by thinking.”

He grinned. “Such a strange pastime for a girl.”

…and some not-so-innocent temptation:

In the silent gray fog, they were alone. The knowledge rippled between them as they stood face-to-face, a fearsome and dangerous thing…. For a moment, he held her eyes and she felt the heated pulse of his maleness through the cold mist; sensed once again that she was not alone in her wish to be less polite and more tangled.

Our almost-happy couple fights it as best they can:

He would not stray from within the walls of Strassburg itself. Surely, if he had no glimpse of her, this lunacy would burn itself clean. For, dear God, it must….

…until they both find the courage to admit what they have is more than physical attraction:

Original 1993 cover
(historical accuracy?
what’s that?)

Her free hand lit in his hair. For a moment, she said nothing, only stroked his head silently as he knelt before her. At last she said quietly, “The priest brought me the Bible last night, as instruction.”

She sank down to her knees, to look at him face-to-face. “I made a confession to him that I had spent many hours thinking of a certain man in ways that were not chaste.”

Solomon lifted his fingers, seared by this admission, but she caught his hand before he could touch her. “Father Goddard said there was more to God’s word than prayers,” she said, “and he brought me the Bible to read, with a place specially marked.”

Her eyes softened. “It was,” she said with an ironic smile, “the Song of Solomon.”

“Ahhh.” He closed his eyes and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers, feeling as if he might weep. “And yet, this is impossible, Rica. We cannot love each other.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, they simply remained as they were, their fingers tangled, foreheads pressed together, all else forgotten.

Ohhhh, that forehead-to-forehead thing gets me EVERY TIME. *~*happysigh*~*

With the help of a mutual friend, they make their own vows:

She felt dizzy, as if she were standing in the center of the world and all else would slip into harmony as long as Solomon held her.

He rocked her silently, holding her almost painfully close. “It does not seem an evil thing,” he said with quiet wonder. “It seems as if I have held you thus for all of time, that I should go on doing so forever.”

But alas, we know it can’t go on forever. The author quietly lets the internal angst and conflict seep in….

“Do not speak it, Rica, I beg you.” His eyes were bleak. “There is so little joy in any life, I will take this time with you until I must go.” He smoothed a lock of hair from her face. “In our old age, we’ll remember and be glad.”

…and then it grows:

Two months ago, he’d never seen the woman who now obsessed him. All the years of discipline, all the prudence and resistance he had practiced had come to naught in the face of his longing for Rica. He was ready to storm the castle to carry her away, ready to make a fool of himself to gain a glimpse of her in the bailey. For what? The most he could hope for was a month or two of stolen afternoons, a kiss here and there, and a laugh in a glade. He could never lie with her, sleep next to her, walk in a public square. He could never sit with her over a meal and talk of the day’s work, or take her hand in old age.

…and it festers:

From the beginning, Solomon had known there was no future for them. From the beginning, he had fought against loving her. Now he found he could not bear the thought of another man touching her, when he — who loved her — had barely tasted the edges of her desire.

…until the inevitable external conflicts tear them violently apart:

There were no more tears left in her, only a wild, searing grief. Every corner of her was filled with it, an emotion black and sticky as tar. She could taste it against her tongue and smelled it thick in her nostrils. It held her, immobile, slumped against the wall in the darkness.

But then we finally get the HEA, and it’s WORTHY EVERY MINUTE of all that glorious angst.

“All is well, my love,” he whispered. “All is well.”

In summary: I think everyone should read this book because it is a very good book. And if all those excerpts didn’t convince you, I have no hope for you. I’ll just let you wander back to your pathetic alpha heroes and doormat heroines. Good luck with that.

Next up: One-Quote Reviews for a few more by Barbara Samuel (guess what? I LOVE THEM ALL)

The Cyber Monday Damage Report

This has nothing to do with my OCD issues. NOTHING, I tell you.

All Romance eBooks….

Amazon….

For the daughter….

$1.99 each

For the son….

$1.32 each

Oh gawd, looking at all these on one page makes me a little nauseous – TBR-wise and bank-wise.

World Series of Romance: Stealing Home by Allison Pittman

Get your protective choir robes or holy underwear or whatever ready, because it’s going to be RAINING SQUEE AROUND HERE.

• Title: Stealing Home
• Author: Allison Pittman
• Series: The Baseball Novels, Book 1
• Genre(s): Historical, Inspirational
• Publisher: Multnomah Books, April 2009
• Source: Amazon ($9.99 ebook)
• Length: 352 pages
• Trope(s): Celebrity & Commoner(s), Unrequited/Reunited, Beta Hero(es), Plot Moppet (but in a good way),
• Quick blurb: A staid and “dry” small town in Missouri is turned upside down when a newly-sober ballplayer arrives to continue his recovery.
• Quick review: The Music Man + The Natural + Field of Dreams + Places in the Heart = BIG FAT WIN.
• Grade: A+

“Don’t worry. This is baseball. There’s always a second chance.”

Read With Me Vicariously: Status Updates

11/18/12 – 25%:
Shut up and quit bothering me, I’m reading a REALLY GOOD BOOK.

11/18/12 – 50%:
I love this book soooooo much. If this tanks in the second half like my last three books, I’m going to be upset. VERY upset.

11/19/12 – 75%:
Dear God — and I mean that in both the holy and blasphemous connotations — I love this book.

11/19/12 – 90%:
Never mind, I HATE this book.

11/19/12 – 100%:
I am going to need several days to recover from this one, and the full review is going to be a completely incoherent mess of stupid.

Let the mess of incoherent stupidity commence. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This is also very long, so go ahead and make a trip to the kitchen for Diet Coke and cookies before we get started. Or communion wafers and wine. Whatever floats your boat.

The set-up

Picksville, Missouri – March 1905:

Dave was sending her a man. And he was coming on the two-o’clock train.

Dave Voyant is our heroine Ellie Jane’s older brother. He’s a Chicago sportswriter who somehow got himself involved in getting Duke Dennison, the league’s most die-hard drunk, dried out enough to return to the Cubs’ starting lineup.

With “dry” being the key word, Dave offers up his hometown of Picksville as an ideal place for Duke to continue his recovery when he’s released from the “sanatorium.”

No saloon. Just like Voyant told the doctor. Some kind of small town ordinance. Welcome to Picksville. Doctor’s orders. For at least thirty days.

When Duke steps off the train, he makes quite an impression on his welcoming committee, especially Morris Bennett, an ambitious “Negro errand boy” enlisted by Ellie Jane to carry the royal baggage:

Now I know a rich white man when I see one. But this guy — he is almost pretty. He’s wearin this suit the color of molasses cake and one of those dandy hats and more jewels than I’ve ever seen any man wear — diamond rings on each hand, gold watch, pearl tie clip and cuff-buttons.

When the big-league city slicker turns his charm on Ellie Jane, the exchange is almost too much for our hero Ned, who’s watching from across the platform:

Ned cringed at Ellie Jane’s girlish reaction, bringing her other hand up to capture what must be a lovely giggle while allowing herself to languish in this forward embrace.

If you were expecting the Duke the Magnificent Manly-Man to be the hero of this story, you might be disappointed – but don’t be, because Ned has “hero material” written all over him. Trust me.

And yes, this is going to be one of those reviews that’s one quote and excerpt after another. Suck it up and keep reading. You’ll thank me later.

World Series of Romance: Caught Running by Abigail Roux and Madeleine Urban

Gay High School Baseball Coaches: A Doubleheader

In case you missed it, be sure to read the wrap-up of Game 1: Pine Tar & Sweet Tea by Kerry Freeman. Also, full disclosure on this one: I’ve read this approximately 17 times, so put on your squee-proof panties.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Game 2, featuring the veteran Gold Glove power hitters:

Caught Running by Urban and Roux

•  Title: Caught Running
• Author(s): Madeleine Urban and Abigail Roux
• Series: N/A
• Genre(s): Contemporary, GLBTQ
• Publisher: Dreamspinner, December 2007
• Source: Amazon ($5.38 ebook)
• Length: 326 pages
• Trope(s): Athletes, Beta Heroes (x2!), Teachers, Friends-to-Lovers, Lust in the Workplace
• Quick blurb: Science teacher reluctantly accepts assignment as assistant baseball coach, putting him on the field with the all-star jock from his own high school days.
• Quick review: Dear Jake and Brandon: You can coach my team ANYTIME. Love, Kelly.
• Grade: A-

The soft words made Brandon’s insides clench, and the sentiment spurred him to clasp Jake’s face between both hands and kiss him with a hint of desperation, a tinge of hopefulness, and more than a little agreement. When he pulled back, he murmured, “Would have been more than kisses.”

The set-up:

Jake is the jock, former two-sport college standout now coaching at his high school alma mater after injuries put him permanently on the DL. He’s also permanently in the closet about his bisexuality — until his new assistant coach makes him re-think his lonely life.

Brandon is the nerd, with two master’s degrees and an acceptance to med school. He returned to his hometown when his parents were killed, and he’s learned to love his unexpected career as a science teacher — and his unexpected acceptance into a jock’s world.

Oh, as the authors say in their dedication:

“Caught Running” is for everyone who didn’t become what they thought they would, but still found happiness.

The hits:

Oh, lordy, where should I start? I believe this requires a list:

(1) Two – count ‘em, TWO (2) – beta heroes

They’re both flawed and conflicted and cautiously optimistic and really quite yummy.

(2) The relationship-building

Pacing is perfect, By the time the first kiss happens, it’s a huge rush of “oh, thank GOD.” And then it just gets better.

(3) The sexy times

The racing through the front door, shoving up against the wall sexy times.

And the post-practice locker-room workout…

He yanked at Brandon’s jersey, hearing a seam rip somewhere and not caring as he continued to pull at it and kiss the man messily. It still wasn’t enough, and he pushed Brandon toward the nearest hard surface, slamming him brutally against the empty bulletin board.

And the hood of the car….

There was no way Brandon was going to summon the strength to resist this. It was everything he wanted to be reassured. Wanted. Craved. Oh God.

Excuse me for a sec, I’ll be right back.

We now interrupt this blog post for a brief pictorial interlude:

View original image

*ahem*

All righty then, where were we?

(4) The extremely effective use of alternating POVs

Sometimes the head-hopping changed with every paragraph, and yet I never had any doubt whose head I was in.

The BRAIN kind of head, sheesh. Pervs.

(5) The funny bits

Like the very unwanted late-night run-in with the on-the-prowl cheerleading coach in the grocery store.

Also, the Flip-Flop Scene:

How could he have said something like that, anyway? Wanting to know what was happening next when they’d only kissed for the first time about ten hours ago?

Jake watched him go down the walk with a frown, but smiled slightly as he had an idea. He reached down, took off his flip-flop, and chucked it at Brandon as he walked away, hitting him right on the back of the head.

Brandon’s eyes bugged out, and he whipped around to look at Jake in amazement. “Did you just do what I think you did?” he exclaimed.

“Depends on what you think I did,” Jake shot back with a signature grin as he thumped down the front steps and strolled forward to retrieve his flip-flop. “That’s what we do. You think and I throw things,” he explained. “So I’ll make you a deal. You stop thinking,” he drawled, bending to pick up the shoe and wave it around threateningly, “and I’ll stop throwing things.”

(6) Completely believable teacher/coach world-building

Trust me on this. I know from which I speak.

(7) Great scene-setting and secondary characters

Jake and Brandon live and work in a small Southern town, but they aren’t surrounded by clichéd empty props. I know exactly what their school and houses look like, and their friends, co-workers and stalkers (well, just one, the horny cheerleading coach) are unpredictable and yet integral to the story. This is contemporary world-building done really, really well.

That’s probably enough squee for now.

The misses:

Only two items on this list:

(a) The too-convenient absence of family interference or anxiety

Caught Running was one of the first M/M romances I read, so I didn’t really notice it while I was reading it the first time(s).

But on second and third (and maybe fourth and fifth) reads — after inhaling Heidi Cullinan and L.A. Witt and K.A. Mitchell and Marie Sexton and others (a LOT of others) — it felt like an important source of external conflict was missing. But I wouldn’t want Roux/Urban to change anything, so, you know, there you go.

This is why I am terrible at writing squeeful reviews. I sound like a freaking idiot.

(b) The kinda sorta anti-climactic* HEA

I wasn’t expecting a Grand Gesture or anything schmaltzy, but it left me wanting more. As in, you know, like, maybe…A SEQUEL???

Pretty please, Ms. Roux and Ms. Urban? Ty and Zane have about 17 books each now. I think Jake and Brandon need some attention again. Or maybe I need attention from them. Either way, I’m asking nicely.

There’s that slobbering idiot thing again. I know you’re all grateful I don’t write romance novels.

* I almost typed that without giggling.

The final score: A-

One-Quote Review: Country Mouse by Amy Lane and Aleksandr Voinov

• Title: Country Mouse
• Authors: Amy Lane and Aleksandr Voinov
• Series: N/A
• Genre(s): Contemporary, M/M
• Publisher: Riptide Publishing, April 2012
• Purchase: Amazon, $4.99
• Quick blurb: Jaded Brit meets his match in seemingly naive American tourist.
• Grade: A

“Look at me,” Owen whispered. “Look at me until you can’t anymore.”

Oh. My. God. You real writers are *killing* me. KILLING. ME. The smokin’ hot sex was more than enough, but the train station? Holy SHIT.