Damn… “all you can eat” makes me think of Chinese food buffets where I can stuff my face with wontons and egg rolls and moo-shu pork until I explode, but I suppose this man here is another kind of buffet… a buffet of manliness. Eww, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth as I typed that. There is just something completely unattractive about this man. I guess I should be happy that I don’t have to see his face and the dumbass Neanderthal expression that I would surely find there. There’s just something… greasy about this guy. While I enjoy a man in black underwear, he just seems like the kind of guy who’d wear button-down shirts with the buttons undone halfway down his chest, so we could see that ratty-ass mat of hair. Accessorized with a couple of heavy gold chains and a pendant that says “Sex Machine”. Eww. He’s probably also the kind of guy who’d wear jeans so tight (to lovingly cup the family jewels) that he’d need a pair of pliers to zip them up. Not to mention the bottles of Paco Rabanne that he probably bathes in on his way out of the house. God, my eyes are watering just thinking about it. Maybe he’s even the kind of guy who tells the ladies that he’s a “producer” or a “venture capitalist” because they sound impressive, but nobody actually knows what they are. I’m just glad that the font is covering his crotch or I’d probably be throwing up my breakfast.

Grade: B

I don’t really know how to write this review because I’m not quite sure how I feel about it. On one hand, it’s deliciously dark, gripping, and literally kept me on the edge of my seat as I devoured each word. On the other hand, the story itself was crippled by stilted dialogue, awkward pacing, and a plot that grew too big for the limited word count as well as the storyline itself. There were also certain scenes that I would expect to be followed by one that would explain or build up on the scene that preceded it, but inexplicably, the next one would be a few days later and we wouldn’t see the character’s immediate reaction to a potentially vital scene. Oddly enough, this author doesn’t pull back on the punches when it comes to gore, violence, and sex. The author only seems to be in her element when her characters are having sex, killing each other, or when she’s explaining the mythology behind her book. When it comes to her characters exploring their emotions or talking about it with each other, her writing becomes awkward, as though she doesn’t quite know how to deal with the “sit down and talk” situations. While reading this book, I felt that I didn’t really get a chance to get to know the characters because the author seems to be in a constant rush to show me the next big monster confrontation or our romantic leads tearing each other’s clothes off. There are a lot of disturbing, revolting, yet ultimately fascinating shit that happens in this book, but I do wish that the author had allowed me to get to know her characters better. It would have made for a more intense, dramatic reading.
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The delicious e.D’trix sent me this cover and had this to say:

“Just…umph…hold still…urg…ma’am! Everyone knows that to treat a snake bite you need to…ooof…squeeze out the venom. What’s that? Oh. It’s not a snake bite? My mistake. Carry on.”

Me, I don’t think homeboy is that interested in the boobies. The expression on his face says, “Uh… okay, they’re round and squishy, but I’ve seen better.” Maybe his mind is already on the Sims polyamory party that he’s going to be attending as soon as the shoot wrapped. As for the girl, she’s got her head tilted back with a look on her face that says, “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should have taken that job as a tray-washer at McDonald’s.” She also looks to be in the middle of a long-suffering sigh. Meanwhile, the photographer is yelling in the background, saying shit like, “Can you people look any more bored? Oh fer Christ’s sake, that was sarcasm!” At least we’re only privy to their profiles, though, so we don’t have to see their eyes. I’ve been seeing dead poser eyes in my nightmares lately and don’t think I can take much more. I may be on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Thanks for the cover, e.D’trix!

I know that there are some of you out there who believe that I have no heart. That I’m a cold, cold bitch because I don’t melt into a puddle at the sight of a baby on the cover and tend to say “mean, insensitive” things about them. I won’t apologize for that. Call me a cynical C-U-Next-Tuesday. Call me a fat, bitter, misanthrophic old hag who does nothing but sit in front of her computer all day, thinking of “mean” things to say about baby covers (you’d be wrong. I also say “mean” things about man-titty and covers that feature celebrity look-alikes). But goddamn it, you can’t deny that this cover is manipulative. Manipulative how, you ask? Well, it’s manipulating me to be afraid for that infant because that big stupid hand looks like it’s about to strangle it. Look how huge that thing is. It’s like the Thing or something. Don’t you hurt that baby, disembodied hand! Oh, and is that a wedding ring on its finger? Maybe the mother of the infant recently died and now the owner of the hand has to take care of the baby all on his own, but the lady-next-door, who is unable to have children of her own, comes over to help him take care of the baby and they fall in love. Well, at least the baby wasn’t born out of wedlock (gasp!). Unless the baby belongs to a single mom and the owner of the hand is a married man who falls in love with her. Scandalous! Yeah, right. Like that’ll ever happen.

Thanks for the cover, Amber!

The lovely Sana-chan sent me this cover and as I stared as it, a persistent thought nibbled at the back of my mind. I said to myself, “Self, this dude looks familiar. Where have we seen him before?” Who is this upstart cover model who thinks he can usurp John DeSalvo’s much coveted King of Cover Models throne by holding that sword like he knows what he’s doing? Think again, little man! I’ve seen John DeSalvo’s covers. I own books with John DeSalvo on the front cover and you, sir, are no John DeSalvo. Why don’t you go to Hollywood, become an A-list actor, and impregnate the most beautiful woman in the world, instead? Besides, sir, you only seem to have one pose, while John DeSalvo has at least… four. It just so happens that I’ve seen this pose before. Shame on you, sir. Shame on you. Much like Derek Zoolander, you only have ONE look.

This reminds me of Karen’s post about romance heroes and heroines who are written to look like well-known celebrities. I think that cheats the reader, don’t you? What if you don’t even like that particular actor that the hero is supposed to look like? I mean, you’ll be reading that book with that actor’s face in your head and perhaps sour your reading experience. And what if the author had an insane Carrot Top fetish and insisted that the hero looked like Carrot Top? A blatant example of this is this cover. As much as I love David Duchovny, man, how do you think he’d feel if he picked up that book and saw his mug on it? He’d either be flattered or sorely pissed. How do you think he’d react?

Thanks for this cover, Sana-chan!