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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

The Bride wore Spurs, by Sharon Ihle

     Actually I came across this book while staying at my Nona’s when my water heater was out, and my floors in my apartment were being repaired. So my life really had nothing to do with it. The book was a bit yellowed, with a copyright of 1994. I guess Nona must have read it, seventeen years ago. I didn’t know she even read romances with cowgirls and cowboys, but I picked it up to read, even though I’m not a fan of historical books out on the prairie, and especially westerns.
     So I pinched it from Nona. I doubt she’ll miss it. The plan to read on my lunch, which I did for a couple of days, until I was distracted by an incident, involving the very delicious P.I Sean. Anyhoo, I came back from lunch after spending my time reading and fighting off the rats with wings. I wore my uber cute new junky pants with a boyfriend shirt, tucked into the high waist. Well, that shirt was sticking to my butt, so I headed to the restroom to fix it, when I my nemesis Charlene the officer manager and one of the partner’s from the firm went into the restroom. I really didn’t want to engage either one of them in polite conversation in the stalls. So I made a right turn into the storage closet. The office was mostly empty, so I didn’t think to lock it and because the last time it locked behind me, it jammed and it took the FDNY to get me out, two hours later. Not going down that road again, so I left the door unlocked.
     I dropped my new uber cute pants, to adjust my shirt, when said door, flew open and who should be standing there with his jaw slacked to his chest, but P.I Sean. I yelped and he slammed the door laughing. He instantly turned around and faced the door (what a gent) and chuckled, “What are you doing?”
I yelled, not so politely, "None of your damn business!" As I hurried to adjust my shirt and pull up my pants, that were pretty much around my knees exposing my nice little black g-string. Didn’t want panty lines. He really didn’t see the g-string, but saw my glowing round ass! Oh the humility. Then the door flew open again, and it was my nemesis Charlene, and what was I doing, right then, adjusting my waist line as I just zipped up my pants. Damn, don't these people have anything better to do than go to the supply closet! Since I turned bright red, and P.I Sean just gave her a wide smug grin. We went from a embarrassing moment to looking pretty guilty. I mean really really guilty, about-about, oh gees, about!
     Since then I’ve been getting a lot of smiles and winks from the office locals. I should bring a meat tray from my cousin's deli, and that will fix their grins. P.I Sean has been asked outright if we were sleeping together, he just had to share with me, as he laughed. Instead of denying it, he has said nothing, which is as good as saying too much. Oh, per l'amore di Pete. I santi mi risparmieranno?
     Oh, but I digress, the next day I read, The bride wore Spurs, and really enjoyed it. It was a sweet story of two really off beat people, who fall into each other’s lives. Kathleen was a sweet soul who spent most of her childhood in a loony bin in Ireland.  She arrives in America with a friend who is a mail order bride, and heads to Wyoming. Kathleen really has no everyday skills accept with animals. She's like a horse whisperer, but can’t cook a meal to save her life. Hawke is also a damaged soul, with a dark side to him. He’s a half bred, with a chip on his shoulder. But he finds he has a soft spot for the fumbling Kathleen that he decides to marry, against his better judgment. That’s where the adventure begins, since Kathleen doesn’t even have the talent to sew or make love to her husband. The two work it out, learn from each other through some sweet misunderstandings.
     I liked this book and the style it was written in the form of 1994. Things have changed since then, and so has storytelling and writing. This was a quick easy read that I finally finished on the subway as I tried to distract myself from P.I Sean and his silence about our rumored secret meeting in the closet. If he's going to let this go on, he belongs in a nut house, alongside Kathleen.
     I really did find this enjoyable, so I gave it a #7, Bitch’n enough to hid in the broom closet and read, at least for a little while.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Carpe Bead’em By Tonya Kappes

     This book was recommended to me by Lee Lopez, who blogs with Tonya on The Naked Hero and The writer’s guide to e-publishing. And it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Like Hallie in the book, who had a life in Chicago, and then was transferred back to her hometown of Cincinnati to live with her crazy aunt. I found myself in a similar situation.
     My water heater’s bottom dropped out, and sent nasty rust colored water all over the apartment. The super couldn’t fix it for three days, which put me and my roommate into forced evacuation. She went to her boyfriends, and I thought I’d go to my mom’s. But, my aunt from Boston was visiting with her two lil fiends. That's from the Irish side of my family. It makes for interesting holidays, and lots of arguments. I could have taken one of my sisters rooms, because they ran for the hills, to escape the relatives from hell. Anything was better then spending three days with the fiends, so I opted for Nona.
     Soooo, I moved in for three long days, with her three demonic cats, all named after saints. 
     For three days I endured, pushing through a jungle of underwear hanging in the bathroom. Avoiding the cats, who gave me the stink eye at every opportunity. They know I have a bird. Forever the jeopardy tune will be embedded in my brain from it blasting from the new giant flat screen my dad and uncles bought Nona for Christmas. It takes up the whole living room! They got it way cheap from a cousin, who is, well less than honest.
     Then Nona insisted that I needed to eat breakfast. I woke to the sound of pots and pans being crashed together. I stumbled downstairs in the dark, since the sun wasn’t even up yet. Nona stood at the stove in her pink duster, with her hair wrapped in toilet paper, with a piece hanging down the side of her face, with a lit cigarette dangling from her thin little lips and the kitchen smelling like gas!
     I ran to the window threw it open, screaming about the gas. She screamed back at me, that the pilot went out and she was trying to light it, as she struck a match that wouldn’t spark. I grabbed a tea towel and started to fan her, ripping her cigarette from her mouth, and tossing to the ground and stomping on it. I fanned the room, the stove, as I screamed in English,  her in Italian. Then the match lit.
    There was an actually fiery mini mushroom over burner. The tea towel went up in smoke, like a vampire stepping out into the sunlight. And Nona’s toilet paper ignited, like a fuse to a bomb. I screamed, she screamed and I grabbed a large stock pot and put it over her head. She screamed at me, from under the pot, "Che fa lei? La sono matto! Lei ha rovinato appena uno strofinaccio da cucina che mia sorella ha inviato me da Napoli." as a little ribbon of smoke trailed out from the rim. 
     I lifted the pot off her head, to make sure she still wasn’t on fire, and she says, rather calmly, "Giuro lei è delle noci. Nessun prodigio che lei non sono sposato ancora."
Something about crazy and marriage. 
    But I digress, I really enjoyed Carpe Bead’em. Like me with Nona, Hallie had to endure the antics of a aunt who raised her. Aunt Grace has a pinched pink poodle, and likes to climb flag poles to kiss the eagle. But I liked best about this book was Hallie’s journey from the professional world to being a self made business woman, who made jewelry. At first it was a stress reliever, but when her talent shined, it was put in stores and suddenly she had a small business that actually made her happy. She didn't know she was unhappy before, but realized her own self worth. Her life took a very unexpected turn for the better, in a city she thought she didn’t want to live in. This is a fun read, and hard to put down. I won’t give too much away, you’ll have to read it yourself. But if you’re on a journey of self-discovery, this is a great read. 

So I gave it a #8, it's pretty darn bitch'n.

Does anyone know how long it takes for eyebrows to grow back?  

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Dear Author/ Don't bore me with language

Dear Author,

A big ole Zzzzzzzzzzzzz for period language. 

I’m a big reader. Since I have a ton of time, that was once occupied by my sexually confused ex-boyfriend. Now I fill it with reading. So as a reader and not a author, I’m going to give a little advice to authors. Yeah, they’re all going, what do you know, you’re not a author. But I am a reader. I’m the customer, who makes your pay check. A piece of advice, if you’re writing a historical, (not my fav, but I read them), don’t use period language. It’s a big snoozer. Zzzzzzzzz! I rarely finish a book that is filled with language of the period. A little here and there, but not the entire book. Again, ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! Capisca!

None of those long boring speeches, that name all kinds of long boring names, just say it like it is. Just go for it, I mean don’t have your Scottish Highlander from the 1600’s, say, “Dude, put down the big ass sword!” But you know what I mean, make it so at least this regular everyday Para-legal Italian, who wants to be an attorney, can understand what the hell, is going on, other then a good ole fashion sword fight, or sex among the heather.

Gees, quit with the language! It’s easier to read without it. It's distracting, very distracting. That way someone like me can get through the book a lot quicker, in-which time I can move on to supporting another author.

Monday, May 16, 2011

What I did for Love by Susan Elizabeth Phillips a #7

I started reading this book the day before my brother Mario’s wedding. I was of course, attracted to the cover, since once more I’m a bridesmaid, although there is a bride on the cover. What happened, is all about the bride, and what she might do for love. I’m not in any hurry to get married. Marriage never was a topic of conversation in my relationship with Adam. Well, no wonder since he was ‘sexually confused’, (his words not mine).  Oh, and I wouldn’t do anything for love.  I gave that up in the 5th grade. Anyhoo, I finished this book after the disastrous event known as another Russo wedding.

 We all got to the church on time, (due to Nona’s aggressive habit of driving), the sunflower yellow dress fit, but I still hated it as much as when I first had to try it on. I almost puked right then and there. But-I had to wear it, and look like a bottle of mustard from my cousin’s deli.  Thankfully, I wasn’t alone and got to share my misery with my three sisters and couple of the bride’s friends. Fortunately, they all looked as bad as I did. Misery loves company and I was adoring it.

Back to being on time, which was a miracle, Nona drives like a crazy woman. People just automatically get out of the way.
We walked down the aisle, the bride followed, and admittedly she looked fantastic. Mario was happy, as my other brother, Gino looked like some one stuck a knife in him and twisted it, twice. The bride got to the alter without incident,  (another miracle), and was given away by her proud papa. Then as the service moved ahead, and my feet tucked away in equally yellow shoes, felt like I was standing on nails as Gino started to look a bit yellow around the gills. I thought it was all the yellow dresses, flowers and bows. A confirmed bachelor, Gino hates weddings. The only reason he was at this one, was because it was family, and he couldn’t get out of it. He usually just breaks out into a big red rash whenever he has to be a part of or attend a wedding, which in this family is numerous and often. He should buy stock in a hydrocortisone company. Gino actually started to sway. He was going down like a tree in the forest with no sound. Mario turned to catch him, and hit the candle stand, which propelled a lit candle towards his adoring and horrified bride. The candle hit her veil, and it instantly ignited. The church was full of cops and firemen, which of course saved the day. As I went towards her, I was mowed down by the group, who tossed the bride on the floor, rolling her.

With hysterical howls, the bride rolled back and forth, leaving a trail of beads, flower pedals, buttons, hair pins and a CL blue shoe. That were oh so cute. In the middle of this my sister Jeanine had run forward, to help, and was knocked out of the way, tumbled down the alter steps, and landed in the aisle, with her dress hiked above her hips, exposing her very tiny G-string to all including a very embarrassed close to fainting Priest.

Nona ran to the alter screaming in Italian, “Oh, il mio Dio, la risparmierò!”  She grabbed a vase filled with flowers, and continued her descent on the bride, stopped, in her smart little black shoes, and dumped the entire contents of the vase on the bride, cops and firemen, all in their class-A’s. She nearly drowned the bride.

Well-the reception was still ago, as Mario tried to get his bride to show up. The priest married them privately. So the reception went on without her, and Mario. We had a great time, the band was good, the food great, as my mother kept disappearing to try to talk the bride into making a appearance. Apparently, her mother stayed with her as she kicked and screamed, my mother relaid.

But that’s not where it ended, I was going through double doors to go outside, and the doors swung shut, caught the big ugly bow on my ass, and tore it right off the dress. Not only tore it, but ripped the back off my dress. I was borrowing jackets for the rest of the evening, until I could get Nona to stop dancing the chicken dance and go home. 

Oh, but I digress, What I did for love, wasn’t the first book I’ve read by SEP. I usually really love her books and laugh out loud, but not this time.  Georgie York is a outdated famous child star, that is desperate to regain some fame and respect. So what does she do but marry her former co-star (who she lost her virginity too, years ago and hates), the marriage was actually worse than Mario’s. They were drunk and under the influence of a controlled substance, so they had no memory of the actual act of saying I do. Both the hero and heroine seem a little desperate. The hero Bram wants to regain a career gone south, and Georgie desperately wants the approval of the public. There was some sweet moments. Bram did redeem himself and there were times Georgie actually seemed intelligent, but nothing that made me laugh out loud. 

The story did draw me into the world of Hollywood, paparazzi and the what the famous have to really deal with as they're followed around. The descriptions of southern California made me feel like I was there, even though I’ve never been there.

It does end well, and story kept me reading, but just wasn’t funny. I look forward to SEP’s next book, maybe I can laugh again.

This a #7 a good subway read. I read it on the way to work on the Monday following the wedding. 

Friday, May 6, 2011

Coping to It, by Ava Meyres a #6 1/2

I had read this author’s other book, Cop Appeal, and apparently I’m reading the books out of sequence. That seems to be the story of my life, always out of sequence. Well it didn’t make much difference how I read them, since they are both full of sex. Sex here, there and everywhere. Now that I’m so called single again,  I just keep picking up those kinds of books. I mean the sexy ones. I think it's indicating something Freudian is going on upstairs. Hmmm, non sono il sesso privato, penso!

The day I started to read this book, I decided to stay in the office for my lunch. The office was empty of all the attorneys. I have peace at last from those who like to stress over such things as pens, the cost of paper clips, and quality paper. Anyhoo, the office was so wonderfully quiet, and I’m swimming in every moment of it. So what does a good paralegal do, put her feet up on her desk, lean back and eat a good pastrami sandwich. Definitely, not one from my cousin’s deli.

Of course, I can only put my feet up when no one is looking. If the office manager decided to hang around, I’d have to go to the park and sit on a bench and battle rats with wings, pigeons. But not today, I'm enjoying life, reading and eating lunch in my little cubical, when I hit the really intense sex scene. Right at that pivotal moment, a sudden snap, crack and huge POP, and the back of my chair broke off. I work in a law firm, do we smell law suit? Probably not. They’re will be a suit, but it will be the firm’s lawyers going after the chair manufacturer, for money, not for me.

Anyhoo, as I was tumbling backwards, like Alice down the rabbit hole, everything went in slow motion. My sandwich flew up, flinging lettuce, pastrami, and my whole wheat role in every direction. I was picking lettuce out of an open file cabinet for days to follow.  I mean, suddenly there I am, on my back looking up at the ceiling with those little holes in the panels. Hey, there's a stain up there! A leak over my desk!? Even one of my, oh so cute, vampy trampy wedges, freaking came right off and was sitting neatly on my desk as if it was on display at Macy’s. My kindle had flipped right out of my hand, and went spinning away like a top across the floor, stopped at a polished black loafer, about a size 12.

Hmmm... I looked up to find my eyes traveling up the long jean covered leg of the firm’s investigator, Sean. There I lay in the rubble of my chair, sandwich, with pastrami firmly imbedded in my hair, and my kindle at the toe of a very tall, very blonde, very blue eyed babe. I had yet to say anymore to then, “Hi,” and then would run away to hide in my cubical like a pimpled face fourteen year old giggling girl. I didn't really giggle, but I did hide. He's just too cute for words. There is that Freudian thing again.

P.I Sean picked up my kindle, with a very sexy scene blaring out like sirens from Fireman Frank’s hook and ladder. Damn, why me, again.

What a gent. P.I Sean helped me up. I realized I had a wardrobe malfunction with a broken skirt zipper. So what does P.I Sean do? He rounds up safety pins for me. I was smitten, even though I had to walk around the office for the next few hours with a skirt just three tiny safety pins from falling down around my ankles. Sigh...

Oh, but I digress. As I said this is the first of the books that is about two cop buddies, Ty and Luke. I didn't care for Luke in the second book, (which I read first)  and didn't like him any better now. Ty seemed a bit more honorable, although he didn't do much to get a kidnapped journalist heroine out of the hands of a biker gang. What does a self respecting deep cover cop do, have sex with the kidnap victim. Not my idea of a hero, still Claire didn't seem to resist much. There was electricity between them, but that was the best part. That's just a fond memory in my life. The electricity. Oh that reminds me I need to pay my power bill, or it will be no electricity anywhere in my world.

Still I went back for more. The writing is crisp and drew me in, where I couldn't resist and really wanted to see Claire and Ty find some normal happiness, away from greasy big hairy guys on noisy motorcycles. I finished the book on the subway on the way home. There is no doubt this is a very hot read. It's erotica in full bloom. I guess in some cavity of my cerebral cortex I'm being reminded I was dumped for guy.

Because, I started reading at lunch and finished it on the subway, I gave it a #6 1/2. Which pretty much means I read another one of Ms. Meyers novels. 

Monday, May 2, 2011

Nothing but Trouble by Rachel Gibson

I downloaded Nothing but Trouble, by Rachel Gibson, after a night out for my future sister in-law’s bachelorette party. The title attracted me because, that night, was nothing but trouble from the get-go. First off, my brother’s fiancé was brow-beat into having me and my three sisters in the wedding, because she is an only child, so what else can she do but agree to have the four of us in the wedding party. I wish she had at least a few cousins to fill in, the dress is yellow, and it makes me look like I’m about to puke. Any other time, I have plenty of siblings she can borrow. Anyhoo, we of course had to be invited to her bash put on by her best-friend, at a, oh so posh, Manhattan night club. The best-friend is becoming one of those people I’ll be so happy to forget once this whole deal is over with.

Back to the party, I arrive with my sisters, and as usual we try to out dress each other. My two younger sisters, Jeannie and Delores, have bought into the tanning scene, and looked like cannolis left to fry too long. Thank goodness I have one sister, Lucinda who maintained a bit of sanity and decided not to look like shoe leather. I’m my usual stylesta, looking fab in my blue little number, hair pulled back into a stylish Kim K. smooth ponytail, (no big hair for this Italian. Right now I’m supporting the flat iron industry), with Big-O hoochy hoops hanging from my ears. Okay, the club is crowded, and I have to use the restroom, of course there’s a line. When do ladies rooms don’t have lines?  I can’t wait, no line for the guys. The first sister I find, unfortunately is over baked Delores. I bribe her, with a promise of a Cosmo, to guard the front door of the men’s room, while I rush in and rush out. At least that was the plan. Well, Delores got distracted by some Guido, and leaves. No pinky drinky for you sister.

A couple guys come in, which forces me, as I was just getting ready to walk out of the stall, to take evasive action, by way of doing a balancing act on the toilet in my ever so cute little strappy stilettos.

It seemed like an eternity, before they left. It took so long, I did something daring, I slipped off my shoes, very carefully one at a time, and put them between my teeth, by the straps, to avoid a fall in the toilet. I can wash my feet. The shoes would be a loss. With arms stretched to the limit holding me over the toilet, I wait. I wait to either fall in the toilet, or for Delores to finally remember me and rescue me. I had little hope for the later.

Did you know guys gossip while standing at the urinal? I thought it was all quiet on the western front, while they did their thing. Oh, per l'amore di Pete! I prodigi non fermeranno mai?

Finally, finally, thank the saints, Delores discovers her slip, and sends someone to rescue me. After the guys leave, I hear a little knock on the stall door, and a deep voice say, “Cari are you in there?” I think my heart stopped, because I recognized the voice.

The door so very carefully slowly swung open, and who should be standing there, but-but-I still can't believe it, but Fireman Frank from the gym. Yes, I said it. Fireman Frank with his adorable croaked grin, smiled at me as I have my dress hiked up to my hips, holding my shoes between my teeth, balancing over the toilet. He grinned, and I just stared with wide-eyed wonder at this hunk of the month, or a lifetime, Fireman Frank...OMG!! I know I turned bright red. Not pink, but red. What does he do, besides laugh until he cries, but gives me his hand and helps me off the toilet.

I spent the rest of the night trying to enjoy myself as I danced with a few Guidos, who only really knew how to do the ‘air pump dance’ with a fist. Fireman Frank danced a little with me, and smiled, than he had to leave. He had to work the next day. Be still my beating heart. I wonder if I can avoid him at the gym. This is just another incident to add to a long list that involves this absolute Adonis. 

As I was leaving, the heel of  my cute little strappy stiletto, I fought to keep from certain doom in the toilet, caught in a crack and completely snapped off, as I climbed into a cab to take us back to the hotel, where we were going to end the evening with my brother’s fiancé and her annoying best-friend. I downloaded this book as I lay on the bed, next to a very drunk Delores, who hummed about some Guido named Lorenzo, as the best-friend prayed to porcelain god in the bathroom, between ‘ralphs’ and asking to die.

The whole night was nothing but trouble, and to think, for the wedding I have to wear a sunflower yellow, which makes me look like carp. La cassaforte di signore me da questa merda!
But I digress. First the cover of the book is very deceiving. The hero, Mark was a hockey player, until his career was ended by a car accident. No sign of that on the cover. The heroine is Chelsea an out dated scream queen movie star, again no signs on the cover. Who designs these things? Isn’t reading the book required by the artist?

Chelsea is hired as a personal assistant to Mark, the hockey puck. He didn’t need an assistant. He needed a hockey stick right-up-side the head. Right out of the gate I don’t like Mark. He’s a major jack ass, who can’t keep anyone in his employ. Chelsea needs money so she takes the job. I normally don’t like desperate women. I’d work at my cousin’s deli before I’d work for this idiot, and my cousin can be a big fat jerk, most of the time. Accept to Nona, who can still kick his ass.

I actually found myself liking Chelsea, most of the time. She could handle Mark okay, by largely ignoring him, much like I ignore my cousin, and his food. What I had in common with Chelsea was family, and how they try ever so hard to make you do what they want, ignoring what is important to you. Chelsea knew what she wanted, and it started out not to be Mark. But as these things happen, they fall in love and into bed, a bit too fast for my taste. It didn’t make me like Mark any better. Actually, his reasoning was a bit pathetic. But you’d have to read the book to find that out. I don’t like to give away the ending. There is a cast of characters that I think will eventually end up with their own book. I just hope those other hockey pucks are more likeable.

I give this book a #5. As much as I don’t like the hero, I found it hard to put down. I’d read another one this authors books.