My 2013 New Year's Resolution was to read 52 books (one per week). After fulfilling that goal in March I decided I needed something more. MORE I TELL YOU!!! Thus, the 52 Book Minimum Blog was born. Welcome all!
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
The Hookup by Kristen Ashley
Maybe instead of a new reading challenge for 2018, Goodreads could implement a “yay for you, you finally finished writing all of your 2017 reviews in March” award because at this point that’s probably how long it will be until I catch up. My apologies. At least this one was read at the end of the year instead of October or November.
No more stalling. Let’s get on with this . . . .
I’m sure The Hookup would have hit my radar at some point, but the fast-forward button of me neeeeeeeeding to read it was pressed after seeing Val’s review. It wasn’t the amount of Starzzzzz she offered up because she is most definitely more able to enjoy things than I am a lot of the time. However, the comparison to Motorcycle Man made me say . . . .
Except, you know, not GENTLEMAN since Val isn’t a dude. Or gentle. But I digress. I read this on New Year’s Eve since I am old and have no life and let me tell you, it was the perfect piece of fluff to read on what is most everyone else’s drunken stumbly holiday . . . . .
K.A. has been a hit or miss author with me, but this one hit all of the right buttons right from the jump . . . .
“I woke up to the sound of a ceiling fan. I did not have a ceiling fan.”
That right there is what I call a “you had me at hello moment.” If the first line of a book has my lip quirking up to a grin, things might work out okay. Then I got to meet the leading man who was very much . . . . .
And that sure as heck didn’t hurt anything. Especially after learning his name. Johnny. Now, if you are of a certain age and your old horndog radar doesn’t instantly go beep with a leading man named Johnny, you might want to go see your gynecologist because your vagine is probably broken. All you other old grannies know what’s up, don’t you????
Yeah. That’s right. Good luck not wanting to make all the sexuals at the mere mention of the name “Johnny.” Fair warning: Johnny is (what I assume, since I've read but a blip on her billion novel playlist) a stereotypical Ashley leading male – he’s “that guy” which means he has a bit of an alpha streak. Good news this time around he’s more of “that guy” in the form of chipping in and lending a hand rather than being a bossy buttface. Even better news is the leading lady isn’t someone you’ll want to punch in the face. She goes into this “relationship” with Johnny with realistic expectations . . . .
“It was two breakfasts, two dinners, one phone conversation, one text exchange and lots of sex. Get over yourself.”
Best news yet??? These two actually talk when there’s an issue . . . .
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not stupid. I’m not going to mess that up by being upset about something and letting it fester and get twisted before I talk to you about it. I mean . . . . yeesh.”
If you read a lot of romance novels you’ll know that never happens and this thing is like a mother effing unicorn. It also has what may go down as my favorite romance quote of all time . . . .
“Scarlett wanted Ashley. He went for Melanie. And Melanie was the finest being in that book. Even Rhett adored Melanie. Scarlett gets all the attention because the woman is the diva to end all divas. But there ain’t nothing wrong with being Melanie. Far from it. She was just as strong as Scarlett but a whole lot quieter about it, which is strength in itself.”
Boom. That right there is gospel. And dare I forget the reason we all really pick up stories like this. The sex??????
I’ve been putting ice cubes in my underwears ever since I finished trying to cool things down so I don’t spontaneously combust.
4 Stars rather than 5 because there’s only so many times I need to hear about “curlicue ironwork” on shabby chic furniture or about a “beautifully crocheted throw” and because Val told a bit of a white lie and there are more “honeys” than she remembered and also because there was a little extra drama thrown in at the end that was stoopid.
As always, my undying gratitude goes to the pornbrarian for being the dealer of smut - my drug of choice. Name the time and place and I'll deliver my firstborn over to you. Warning: He ain't as sweet as he used to be but he's still aiiiight.