The Baller by Vi Keeland

4 Stars

The Baller popped up on my radar screen due to Casey (along with her merry band of perverts) reading a different Vi Keeland book . . . but referencing this one in the review. This just so happened to be the only Keeland story my library had available for request (for shame, porny librarian – you are failing here!). It also had a cover that pert near guar-an-teed an education regarding the ins and outs (hehehehe) of the NFL and since football season is right around the corner, I was ready to make the sacrifice. My reaction upon finishing??????



Okay, so the story is that Delilah has worked her way up through the network and has a new job as a professional sportscaster. Delilah’s first on-air interview is with star quarterback Brody who definitely leaves a lasting impression . . .



Delilah thinks she’s being hazed for daring to be a woman in a man’s industry, but in reality . . .

“You have a dirty mouth.”

“This dirty mouth wants to do dirty things to you.”



I mean really, Delilah . . . .



OF COURSE eventually Brody and his filthy mouth wear her down and when he did . . . .

“Available or taken?” His answer had been “neither” during the pre-intereview, which I thought was a pretty interesting and accurate description of his dating life. He wasn’t taken, but he also wasn’t available. Only this time when I asked the question, his response caught me off guard.” Taken.” He could see the confusion on my face, but I quickly jumped back into reporter mode. “Really? Is this new?” “It is.” “How new.” “So new, she doesn’t even know it yet.”

And then . . . .



Nearly everything worked for me when it came to this book. Even the angsty, tear-us-apart bullshit couldn’t really deter my enjoyment. And Brody????? The perfect leading male for me. Not only was I able to picture a super-hunky former quarterback as the lead . . .



(Seriously, just STFU if you have any smack to talk on Jesse Palmer. I have zero clue about his quarterbacking ability and I also give zero shits about it. All I know is when I see his face on Good Morning America my lady bits go beep.)

Where was I????? Oh yeah, not only was Brody a super hunk, but he was flippin’ hilarious. I do okay with super alpha alphas when they are in werewolf or biker form, but the true winner of my heart is the cocksure (hehehehehe) dude who delivers the hardy-hars.

Really the only complaint I have is with the Plain White Tees who managed to absolutely RUIN the name Delilah for me. Good Christ if I don’t get their effing song out of my head soon . . . .



Now . . . .



(^^^^That’s fat girl talk for doing the dibbity.)

I also need a real big favor. Someone call the porny librarian and demand every other Vi Keeland book get purchased stat. I think I wore out my welcome and other patrons are asking for Pulitzer winners and shit get ordered because they are stupid and haven’t discovered the amazing world of smut.

Ten Tiny Breaths by K.A. Tucker

2 Stars

^^^^This one did it for me. In case we haven’t yet met . . . .



For real – but I do try and pick out books that I won't hate. I got denied a reader copy of this book waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the Fall of ’13 and promptly forgot all about it. Then a few weeks ago I was stalking her Facebook page noticed Tarryn Fisher had just read/recommended He Will Be My Ruin by K.A. Tucker. Of course since I had used up all of my librarian requests making sure the pornography collection was well-stocked, that book wasn’t available. However, this one was and I figured same author probably still good, right? Wrong.

Alright, so here’s the plot: Kasey and her sister Livie were orphaned when their parents were killed in a drunk-driving accident (Kasey was the only survivor in the car, Livie was home with the flu and wasn’t in the accident at all). Fast forward a few years and Kasey and Livie hightailing it to Miami after their creeper of an uncle “accidentally” climbed into bed with Livie. The two set up residence in a “Melrose Place” style apartment complex and begin to move on with their lives. And then Kasey meets the new boy next door . . . .



And panties be dropppppppppping!

Okay, it’s NA so panties be dropping after a whole lotta angst and in fade-to-black style, but they still be dropping. Oh and there’s instalove. Of course. Chick meets dude in the laundry room, immediately runs away because she has some wicked PTSD that she’s never dealt with due to watching nearly everyone she loved die around and she’s scurrrrred of feeling the feels but then fast-forward a couple of weeks later to . . .

“Somehow he’s managed to slide a finger under my titanium coat and touch me in a way that no one else ever has.”



Seriously. At that point they hadn’t even really had a conversation, but whatevs. Young love.

Then things get even more convoluted and magic peen goes all Coldplay and declares that “lights will guide you home – and ignite your bones – and I will tryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy to fix you.” (<<< not a Coldplay fan, but that is a farking excellent song). The big dun dun dunnnnnnnn moment was glaring like a fiery G.D. beacon to me and once my thoughts were confirmed I was all . . . .



This one just WAS. NOT. FOR. ME. At all. But that’s what I get for diving back in the NA pool headfirst even though I should know better. I’d give it 1 Star, but I’ve been trolled enough (by the granny faction of Goodreads, no less) in recent weeks and I’m not really interested in garnering the attention of Tucker’s fangirls. Also, that cover?????



That’s worthy of a star all by itself. Look at me and my Grinch heart being all generous and shit!

ARC denied eleven thousand years ago by NetGalley, but I still read it anyway.

EPILOGUE: In a wondrous turn of events my bemoaning the first world problem which is my lack of dollars and ginormous library fail regarding the K.A. Tucker book I really wanted to read, I was bequeathed it by a delightful little book fairy . . .

 

Sugar Daddy by Sawyer Bennett

4 Stars

Brace yourself. This is gonna be a ramble. Okay, so you know who was trying to bookpush this on me when the grand finale was up on NetGalley, but since I have tons of willpower I said thanks but no thanks. Then I went on to read one of those damn Wicked Horse books and was all like . . . . .



While reading them and also realized there was a chance Sawyer Bennett could end up being one of my porny spirit animals so I bought this for my ancient Nook when I received a B&N gift card. However, since I’m lazy I never bothered charging up said ancient Nook and put myself on the wait list at the liburrrrrrrrrry instead. My turn finally came around on Saturday morning so I downloaded this sumbitch and brewed my morning Donut House preparing for a lil’ taste . . .



What did I find upon commencing my reading????? A pretty graphic rape scene about a girl written from the perspective of the victim who had been roofied. Yowza! Obviously this isn’t a book for everyone. However, it didn’t take long for the story to unfold that our main character Sela didn’t remember much about the night of her rape, but when she sees her main perpetrator on the evening news some of the details come back to her. Said perp is now a multimillionaire owner of something called “The Sugar Bowl” and Sela decides on a course of action . . . .

“Infiltrate. Murder. Repeat. It’s a simple plan, really.”

Mitchell and I were all . . .



Alright, so Sela changes her appearance and sets herself up to be one of the “Sugar Babies” in order to get close enough to murder The Sugar Bowl owner JT as well as the other two scumbags who stole her innocence, but JT’s not interested in anything but blonde bimbos with no self-confidence so he gives her the brush-off. Enter Beck – JT’s partner who definitely has an eye for Sela. What starts as a one-night stand quickly turns into something else and both Beck and Sela find themselves in unchartered territory when they begin developing feelings for each other. Plus they make much of the sexy and it was oh so very delish . . . .



Nomnom.

That doesn’t mean Sela doesn’t still have her eye on the prize, though. In fact, Sela has so much focus that she puts everything she’s developed with Beck on the line.

I am telling you I could not put this sucker down. I loved errrrrrrrything about it. I loved that Sela was broken, but Beck’s magic penis wasn’t what saved her – it was her own growth and acceptance instead. I loooooooooooooooooooooooooooved bad guy JT. No, not in the “yay for rapists” way, but he was the epitome of bad guy perfection. Think James Spader in Pretty In Pink. Oh so very easy to hate. I even loved the GD cliffhanger and y’all know I hate cliffhangers. The only problem I have is that now that I gorged myself on what is the literary equivalent of an entire cake I now resemble something like this . . . .



And I’m THIRD on the waiting list for book #2. WTF am I supposed to do with my life until my turn comes up?!?!??!?!?!?!?!

Girls On Fire by Robin Wasserman

2.5 Stars

Hannah Dexter has lived in the same small town her entire life. As her father so eloquently puts it . . .

“You couldn’t shit your own bed in Battle Creek without your neighbor showing up to wipe your ass.”

The story takes place when the Real World was the hottest thing on television and Sun-In rather than Kool-Aid was a way for teens to change their hair color. It was a time when boy bands like this were popular . . . .


(I should be ashamed of myself for having spent my hard earned dollars on this cassette.)

Some things were still the same, however . . . .



That is, until the new girl came to school . . .

“Lacy Champlain had a stripper’s name and a trucker’s wardrobe, all flannel shirts and clomping boots that – stranded as we were in what Lacey later called the butt crack of western Pennsylvania – we didn’t yet recognize as a pledge of allegiance to grunge.”

Lacy takes Hannah – or Dex as Lacy renames her – under her wing and shows her the wilder side of life . . . . maybe too wild for everyone to come out unscathed.

After reading this I have now discovered there may be only two kinds of people in this world – those who love Kurt Cobain and those who think that only good thing that ever came out of Nirvana was this guy . . . .



There was a lot of focus on ol’ Kurt and I am just not a fan . . .



I know I know. Girls On Fire also suffered from the same overwriting that made me dislike The Girls so much . . . .

“I loved it. Loved it like Shakespearean sonnets and Hallmark cards and all that shit, like I wanted to buy it flowers and light it candles and fuck it gently with a chainsaw.”



In fact, the only thing I enjoyed was the “mean girl” - which I realize should not happen, but . . .

“She never gave a shit about you. All that energy you put into hating her, and still you were nothing to her.”

^^^^^YAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

I don’t know. I just was not feeling this one at all. I’d say I read it wrong, per usual, but since I actually was a teenager during the 90s so zero of the references were lost on me as well as the fact that I farking looooooove every teenage girl book written by Megan Abbott which this was supposed to be comparable to I’m not willing to take all the blame.

Reap by Tillie Cole

4 Stars

The last time I read a Tillie Cole book, my review/updates went a lil’ something like this . . . .



But, you know, sub out Goodreads for Facebook.

In what is probably a sad turn of events for any of you poor schmucks reading this, I did not repeat the mistake of drunkenly reviewing this one. Normally after having a notsagreat experience with the first book in the series I’d give the remaining stories a wide berth. Dat cover tho . . . .



I mean for realz. Since I am nothing but a disgusting bookslut I totally downloaded Reap immediately when it popped up on my library’s “Recommended To You” window (see - even the librarians knows I’m a whore).

Okay, so about the book. This picks up where Raze left off. Luka (the artist killing machine formerly known as Raze) and Kisa are attempting to have their happily-ever-after, but Luka is haunted by the promise he made to his fellow Gulager/bestie/family’s arch enemy to avenge his honor. When Luka discovers another Kostava brother is still alive/enslaved by the fight club (shhhhh, don’t talk about the fight club) to be a super killing machine due to being injected repeatedly with a new drug he vows to save him. Which of course he does and brings him to the Tolstoi family vacation home in the Hamptons, currently occupied by his sister Talia. And then Talia is all . . . .



But it’s totally okay and not creepy stalkerish behavior at all since she has a vagina and is not a 100 year old sparkly vampire. No really, it is totally okay because this is a porno and DUH . . . .



There has to be some sort of catalyst in order for it to start happening, right? So that’s that. Boy saves boy and moves him in with sister. Sister creepily watches boy while he sleeps which morphs into giving him a spongebath with a happy ending, they fall in love and make much sex. Stuff and things happen, more sex, the end. Winner winner chicken dinner.

Now here’s the part all you ladies (and/or gentlemen) have all been waiting for . . . .

“His black hair fell below his shoulders . . . I could see defined high cheekbones and dark stububle covering his face. Even under the swelling and blood I could see that his lips were full. His skin was dark olive . . and he was nothing but hard muscle. Every inch of his tall frame, perhaps six foot six, corded with protruding veins and roping brawn.”

I’ve been around the porno block a time or twelve enough now to know that Jason Momoa is cast A LOT by horny old ladies to fill the role of the leading male, but this one was legit Momoa alllllllllllllll the way down to the three little moles under his eye . . . .



To top it off, the leading lady was a petite long-haired blonde with brown eyes so most would probably have a splooshtastic good time fantasizing about this kind of thing . . .



Since my brain likes to march to the beat of a different drum, I kept picturing Talia more like this . . .



Still worked. #trustme

The plot might have not been real deep, but luckily it made up for things with deep penetration instead. Reap also brought something new to the table (for me) – the “anti-Alpha.” While Zaal was built like a brick shithouse/killed errrrrryone in his past life/only made with the bangbang when ordered to for clients who liked to watch, he was 100% submissive in the sack and Talia took the lead. And also he was all . . .

“You are . . . for me. No other male. Just me. And me . . . for you. This is my, ‘I love you.’ These are my words from my scarred soul. They are not borrowed words, but words from my full heart, and my heart only.”

So y’all might want to invest in some plastic seat covers, because it gonna be like . . . .

The Girl With The Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer

3 Stars

I’m going to begin this review by addressing the pink elephant in the room. In what could only be an effort to prove that the lowest lifeform on the planet is, in fact, the Subredditor, a smear campaign has been created in order to give Schumer’s book the lowest Amazon rating possible. Way to stay classy people who live in your mama’s basements (credit to the Huff Post for the basement dweller line). Now here’s what I think y’all should do . . . .



Oh, and to the author of the speshul snowflake that has accumulated a whopping seven reviews on Amazon and an even more impressive six on Goodreads . . . .



Now that that’s out of the way let’s talk about the book, shall we?

As most of you know I am an oldie (but a goodie) and also a reality television aficionado. Therefore I was present for Amy Schumer’s debut on Last Comic Standing and was even informed by a co-worker that I would probably burn in hell for belly laughing at the following joke from that show . . .

This old woman on the subway asked me, “Have you heard the good news?” She was trying to save me. I said, “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. My people are Jewish.” She said, “That’s okay, your people just haven’t found Jesus yet.” I said, “No, we found him. Maybe you haven’t heard the bad news.”

Schumer went on to be not-quite-so-funny in later episodes (winding up in 4th place), but she was also a fetus who was pretty obviously cast to fill the “cute young female” demographic required in all reality T.V. competitions. After her loss, she pounded the pavement and ran the gamut of comedy clubs (many of them “pay to play”) in order to hone her craft. And now she wrote a book . . . because that’s how it do what it do when you reach a certain level of fame as a comedian.

Amy’s book is a little different. If you liked Lena Dunham’s book (well, you know before the world collectively lost its shit about her looking at her sister’s vag) you might like this one as well. Have no fear, Schumer does not admit to being a pedophile – she just insults the entire population of Tampa instead. She is, however, another voice for young women . . . but I’ll get back to that.

As a lady of a certain age, I don’t go looking for my feminism in a raunchy comic’s autobiography. Thus the 3 Stars. I like Schumer because she tells a lot of vagina jokes and she writes catchy little diddies that you can sometimes find me singing while folding laundry or doing dishes . . . .



♪♫this is where my poop comes out♪♫

I was expecting her to make me laugh with stories about her sex life. Which she did . . . .

“I was in heat, as they say. Who says this? I don’t know. Shut up and keep reading about my getting pummeled by this British superhero.”

I also expected her to make me laugh with self-deprecating statements regarding her looks. Which she did . . .

“. . . who resemble that eighties doll Kid Sister or one of the Garbage Pail Kids.”


^^^^Hehehehehehehe. She totally effing does.

And I expected more self-deprecating stories regarding her not-model-perfect body. Which she did (in the form of footnotes attached to her journal from when she was 18) . . . .

JOURNAL ENTRY: “I wore this tube shirt from Zara that ties in the back.”

FOOTNOTE: “I remember this shirt. It was made of wool and thin brown leather straps with three ties in the back. It was insanely itchy and gave me a rash all over my body. It looked like what a poor commoner who gets raped by a soldier on Game of Thrones would wear. It was too short, so my belly stuck out, and I had no waist and was shaped very much like an old-timey radio, which I must have wanted to accentuate.”

It being the age of the interwebs I even expected her to make me laugh with comments about trolls. Which she did . . .

UNDER THE CHAPTER “THINGS THAT MAKE ME INSANELY FURIOUS” - #7. People who misspell the word “you’re” when telling me I’m fat (“your fat”).

Due to the fact that she’s one of the biggest up-and-comers in female comedy, I expected her to take a stance on the never ending “women aren’t funny” attitude. Which she did . . .

“I don’t usually like female comics.” That one really gets to me. It’s not like anyone would so casually say, “I don’t usually like black people.” Either way, it’s offensive to say this to a female comic. And let me guess, you’ve only ever seen one female comic in your life and it was in the eighties and guess what? You probably fucking loved her.”

Seriously dudes. Get over it. No one forces you to watch Trainwreck or the Ghostbusters remake (or to spend your entire fucking life trolling Reddit, for that matter). Doing this shit just makes you look . . . .



Obviously I expected her to tell the story about the infamous lower back tattoo. Which she did . . .

“When I say it killed, no, it fucking KILLED. It was like being stung by a thousand bees every second, or dozens of tracker jackers for all of you young-adult fiction fans.”

I expected her to open up and confess some things the general public might not know about her. Which she did in the form of admitting she’s an introvert . . . .



As well as a couple of kind of terrifying tales of being a blackout drunk . . . .

He said, “Amy, we each get two pillows,” to which I elegantly responded, “Not tonight, motherfucker!” Cue the Stevie Wonder song “Isn’t She Lovely.”

And I was stoked when I began the chapter “An Introduction to my Stuffed Animals.” Turns out her idea of “stuffed” is a little more traditional than mine, but she’s obviously still pretty fucked in the head just like me when it comes to the undead creatures she chooses to snuggle with . . . .



The parts I really hadn’t planned on were talk about rape and domestic violence. I realize I’m coldhearted, but I grab comedy books for the funny, not in yo’ face real life shit (which is why I always recommend David Spade's book when someone wants a ha-ha). However, I do realize the importance of famous young women being a voice for other young women. Surprisingly, Schumer does a pretty damn good job of it too . . . .

“I know my worth. I embrace my power. I say if I’m beautiful. I say if I’m strong. You will not determine my story. I will. I’ll speak and share and fuck and love, and I will never apologize for it. I am amazing for you, not because of you. I am not who I sleep with. I am not my weight. I am not my mother. I am myself. And I am all of you.”

And on that note . . .

Strangers On A Train by Patricia Highsmith

2 Stars

In order to prove that NO, I DON’T ONLY READ PORNOS THANK YOU VERY LITTLE I begged Steve to pull me out of my downward spiral and buddy read this one with me. When my husband asked his nightly question “what are you reading????” I was so very proud to say a classic rather than smut. I also jumped at the chance to say it was a book written by the author of The Talented Mr. Ripley and that this novel became one of my favorite Hitchcock films. It was at this point my husband pointed out that in the course of our 20 year marriage there has been an annual Alfred Hitchcock movie marathon on Turner Classic Movies and that he was pretty sure the winner of first place in my heart was . . . .



He also pointed out during said movie marathons that no interaction with me was permitted during . . . .



And . . . .



And . . . .



And . . . .



And . . .



Either. So basically me saying “a favorite Hitchcockian masterpiece” pretty much amounted to diddly shit.

It was at this point I reminded him exactly what this story was about . . . .



Guy Haines meets Charlie Bruno on a train and shares a meal with him in order to pass the time. I know what you’re thinking - WHY THE EFF WOULD ANYONE DO THIS WHEN THEY COULD JUST READ A BOOK?!?!?!? Who knows? It was a different time when men wore hats and ladies had to worry about stuff like whether the seam on the stockings was straight. Basically, people were cray. Anywho, over the course of this dinner between strangers (*shudder*) Guy shares that he’s an architect sitting on the cusp of making it big, has a real beaut of a gal he’s planning on marrying and that the reason he’s on the trip is to finalize a divorce agreement with his first wife. Bruno’s story is pretty much that he’s a drunk with an Oedipus complex who would like someone to off his dear ol’ dad. Which leads us to the offer of a murder swap and Bruno mistaking a clearly stated no for YAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS leading to turnabout being fair play and Guy getting blackmailed into fulfilling his half of the bargain as well.

Sounds like a real beaut, don’t it??? Yeah. It definitely could have been if it were about 100 pages lighter. There just wasn’t much to this one aside from the stabby stabby (or in this case the strangley shooty). The majority of the book was just “meh” page filler with little character development aside from each respectively losing their marbles.

The Hitchcock film, on the other hand? Magnificent. Please remember, however, that this is the man who could sniff out a masterpiece in an itsy-bitsy little 14-pager.