- Title: Good Time Bad Boy
- Author: Sonya Clark
- Published: Self-Published, June 2015
- Source: Purchased
- Length: 316 pages
- Tropes: Good Ol’ Boy, Smartass Heroine, Small Town, Music, Dysfunctional Families
- Quick blurb: Country singer on the skids has to make amends for getting hometown barmaid fired.
- Quick review: New-to-romance author needs to write more romance.
- Grade: A-
This month’s TBR Challenge theme is Recommended Reads, and boy howdy, do I choose my friends wisely.
I bought Good Time Bad Boy last year when everyone else (e.g., Sunita and Janine at Dear Author and others) was raving about it. And of course it got buried pretty quickly because I rarely make an effort to keep contemporaries at the top of the queue.
I finished it in one night.
I haven’t read Liz’s review yet, but I’m sure she’s done her typically smart things with it. I’ll just do my usual thing because otherwise we’ll be here until next Tuesday.
The premise is pretty simple – the heroine is a small-town barmaid who puts the smackdown on a handsy drunk customer, who just happens to be the hometown celebrity. He gets his shit together enough to make amends and there’s an HEA and a crap-ton of angsty-yet-fun goodness in between.
She walked around him, headed for the coffee urn stationed at the entrance to the kitchen. He mumbled something as she passed then slapped on her the rear, hard enough to sting and make a cracking noise that seemed to echo in the nearly empty restaurant.
Somebody said “oh shit.”
…“So I guess you won’t be giving me your phone number,” Wade said to her back. She slipped her hand behind her back and responded with a raised middle finger.
I loved Daisy. I really loved Daisy.
Wooing with music….
The crowd fell away and Wade sang directly to Daisy, only to Daisy. It pleased him to see that it stopped her in her tracks, empty beer bottles balanced precariously on her tray. She brought a hand to her throat and bit her lip. He smiled to her as he sang and he told himself that the heat he knew must have shone in his eyes was just part of the performance. If it affected her, well, that was just an unfair advantage singers sometimes had.
That’s just one. There’s more.
The chapter endings….
“Yeah?” “I just. I like it that all those holy relic instruments are the constellations that guide you. That’s really nice.”
Emotion clutched at his heart and clogged his throat. “That’s…that’s the most amazing thing anybody’s ever said to me.”
“I’m so tired, I was afraid it wouldn’t make any sense.”
“It makes sense to me.”
“Good.” Daisy smiled and waved, then went inside the trailer.
He listened for the sound of the door being locked before turning back to his truck. He sang more Gram Parsons to himself all the way home.
The guitar constellation thing? OH MY GOD *~*swoon*~* <thud>
The angsty bits….
This was the closest Daisy got to prayer anymore. She closed her eyes briefly, picturing a smiling, happy mother and child, then blew out the candle. She sat in the dark for a while, her hands folded in her lap and thinking of nothing and everything.
Some of angst was pretty uncomfortable to read, but in a good way — absolutely wrenching, but never manipulative or melodramatic.
The quiet moments….
She said nothing for what felt like a long time but was probably not even a minute. Just stared at him with her eyes full of emotion. “I feel like I’m about to walk a tightrope without a net here.”
“If it helps, you won’t be alone.”
And there’s an utterly lovely grand gesture disguised as a quiet moment. You’ll just have to read it yourself.
The smartass females….
…“What are besties for if not to make you feel good about your boobs?”
…“For God’s sake, just pick a George Strait song.”
…“Do you think she’s talking dirty to him?” Jillian sipped her drink. “I hope she’s talking dirty to him.”
The overcoming poverty thing….
A twenty-eight cent difference between generic spaghetti and a brand name should not have made a difference to her. She didn’t want it to make a difference to her. Her gaze ping-ponged back and forth between the two price tags for nearly ten seconds before she finally put the generic in her cart. Pasta was pasta. She’d spend that twenty-eight cents on decent sauce. Maybe one of these days she’d try making her own sauce, with tomatoes from the farmer’s market and whatever the hell else went in spaghetti sauce. Generic labels and dented cans, birthday cupcakes bought from the red tag sale cart full of stuff about to go out of date. Boxes from the food pantry. Fast food burgers if her mother had a little money for a change. That’s what Daisy grew up on, and that’s why she was working her ass off going to school so she could buy some fucking brand name groceries without having to skimp elsewhere or debate whether it was worth it or even look at the price. She didn’t need to be rich. She didn’t even need to be full-fledged middle class. She just wanted better than generic spaghetti and a rusting rental trailer.
Did I mention that I loved Daisy?
One more that I don’t have a single good except for….
The small-town southern vibe — to which I usually give good side-eye — was completely genuine. Clark neither vilified nor idealized the setting, and by the end she managed to make the tight-knit community a character of its own, quietly supporting the main characters and nudging them to their HEA.
Only two niggles that made me add the minus to the grade…
- Use of the analogy “mushroom head” in the middle of an otherwise scorching scene. STOP WITH THE MUSHROOM THING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
- Some noticeable typos, increasing in frequency in the last few chapters. All are easily overlooked homophone and apostrophe errors, but it needs a good proofreader.
*AHEM* SONYA CLARK
Re: Your next romance novel….