Some Like It Hot by Louisa Edwards

Grade: C+

passion rating: hot

I’m wondering if Louisa Edwards wishes she’d chosen a different heroine for her latest Rising Star Chef series. Somehow right now doesn’t seem like the best time to have a super rich, super bitch heroine and Eva Jansen in Some Like It Hot is both. I couldn’t stand her and I sure as hell couldn’t figure out what a nice guy like Danny Lunden, the hottie pastry chef hero, would see in her. She’s like Veronica (from the Archie comics) with a Sex in the City wardrobe and an affinity for casual sex.

Readers of Ms. Edwards’ series will recall Eva, Danny, and the Rising Star Chef competition from the first (and better) book in the series, Too Hot to Touch. You don’t need to have read that book to make sense of this one, however. As the book begins, Danny and the crew from Lunden’s, a famous steak house in the Village, are boarding a plane for the Windy City where they will compete in the second round of the contest. The plane, however, waits on the runway for one missing passenger to arrive. As Danny asks the flight attendant what the hold-up is — like me, he can’t believe the plane would delay take-off for one person - Eva dashes down the runway, thirty minutes late, saying, “God, Daddy’s getting on the airline’s Board of Directors is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Danny’s brain knows she’s a stone cold brat — he refuses to partake in the mimosas to which she treats the whole plane because he’s not about to let her “buy him off” — but his below-the-belt body doesn’t care. So when the two meet again in the swanky hotel in which they are staying — guess who has the penthouse? — he’s all yes, baby, yes when she traps him in the elevator, pushes the emergency stop button, presses her Michael Kors clad body up against him, and seductively asks if “she can make it up to” him. You see, Eva gets what she wants and Eva wants Danny Lunden in her bed — in her experience, pastry chefs, with their ability to meticulously focus, make superb lovers.

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A Scottish Love by Karen Ranney

Grade: C-

passion rating: warm

The beginning of this book is so peculiar, it’s disconcerting. It's 1859 in Inverness and Shona, the widowed Countess of Morton, so penniless she can barely feed herself, is interviewing - just for the hell of it - four stalwart lads she's asked to remove their shirts. I found this odd beyond measure. She's wasting these young men's time, she's ogling them in a society where such behavior could ruin her, and she’s doing this because she’s what? Bored?

Into this tableau strides Sir Gordon MacDermond, the man Shona once loved, and according to him, betrayed. He's come to see her brother and his friend, the war wounded Fergus, whom Gordon hasn't seen in six months, since both men returned from India. Shona, Fergus, and her companion Helen are all about to be evicted from their home - her husband's heir is taking the house. Shona's husband left her destitute and now, having sold everything she owns to pay off his debts and support her small family, she has nowhere to turn.

Shona and Gordon still love one another, but for hazy reasons neither can embrace the other. As Gordon is leaving, he stiffly inquires if Fergus needs anything and Shona, desperate, asks if Gordon can offer her brother a home in Inverness. She lies to Gordon about her distressed circumstances and tells him she's having a new house in Inverness readied and thus will be able to take Fergus back in a few weeks. Gordon agrees to take Fergus and Shona and Gordon part, full of thoughts of their passionate, rolling in the heather, youthful love.

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Blood and Fire by Shannon McKenna

Grade: B

passion rating: hot

It’s safe to say I don’t want to live in Shannon McKenna’s fictional world. The bad guys are Machiavellian and ubiquitous, and way too much gruesomely horrifying stuff happens to reasonably good people. But, man, she’s fun to read. I had plans —big plans including a trip to Costco and Trader Joe’s (I needed some peppermint Jo-Jo’s) — before I started reading this book. A day later, I hadn’t done a thing but (briefly) sleep and read. From start to finish, Blood and Fire is a wild ride full of sex, violence, torture, revenge, breathtaking getaways, kick-ass men and women, crazy families, and, of course, true love.

Blood and Fire is the eighth book in Ms. McKenna’s McClouds and Friends series and I think it’s the best. My favorite books in the series are those that feature non-McCloud heroes — Seth inBehind Closed Doors, Nick in Extreme Danger and Val in Ultimate Weapon. Blood and Fire’s hero, Bruno Ranieri, is only a semi-McCloud by proxy: He was Kev McCloud’s best friend and non-blood brother during the years Kev was separated from his clan. (Let me pause here and say Blood and Fire won’t make a lot of sense if you haven’t read the previous books in the series although I suspect it would still be a fun read.)

Bruno is — like all Ms. McKenna’s heroes — gorgeous, cynical, funny, and blessed with a big brain and a talented dick. He’s an orphan with a murky past — he suffers from nightmares that suggest something very bad happened to him when young — who, as the novel begins, has been roped in to running his Zia Rosa’s diner in Seattle. (Rosa is, somewhat inexplicably, off caring for one of the McCloud spawn.) Diner duty would suck for Bruno except for one thing — the sexiest woman he’s ever seen keeps coming in every night and he’s sure she’s as hot for him as he is for her.

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To Tame a Wild Lord by Sabrina Jeffries

Grade: C+

passion rating: warm

Ms. Jeffries’ latest in her Hellions of Halstead Hall series begins inauspiciously with an odd letter to readers from a character in the novel — the grandmother of the hellacious Sharpe siblings. In it, Hetty Plumtree frets about her grandson Gabriel's willful ways, speculates about his feelings for Virginia Waverly (the sister of Gabriel’s dead best friend), and confesses her own fascination with Virginia’s grandfather, the still handsome General Waverly. This awkward précis is clunky and unnecessary, and I was baffled as to its purpose.

The letter is followed by a prologue introducing readers to a young Gabriel, and explains the story that fuels this series. The Sharpe siblings’ parents died when Gabriel was seven. This is the fourthHellions book, and in each novel Gabriel and his siblings have uncovered clues that will lead them - in the fifth and last book (coming out in January of next year) - to finally understand who killed their parents and why. As I wrote in my review of the last Hellions book, How to Woo at Reluctant Lady, the series is best read in order. I do not recommend To Wed a Wild Lord as a stand-alone read. Actually, I don’t recommend To Wed a Wild Lord. It’s not a very convincing book.

Each Sharpe sibling has acted out in response to their parents’ untimely deaths and Gabriel is no exception. He has spent his adult life challenging mortality. He’s raced his horses dangerously so many times he’s earned the social sobriquet of “the Angel of Death.” In one such race, he and his best friend Roger Waverly raced a course where closely placed boulders allowed only one racer to pass and, as the two tried to “thread the needle,” Roger crashed and died. Roger’s remaining family — his younger sister Virginia and his bitter grandfather — blame Gabe for Roger’s death.

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A+ books

This is a piece I wrote for All About Romance about the elusiveness of A+ books.

One of my children asked me recently if I’d ever given a book I’d reviewed an A+. I said I hadn’t. He then asked if I thought I ever would. I said yes, that in fact, there was a book I’d reviewed this past year and had given an A- to that I now see as an A+ novel (Julie Anne Long’s What I Did for a Duke.) “So what’s an A+ book?” he asked. “Let me think about it,” I said.

Not only did I think about it, I did some research. First, I checked how many A+’s AAR has given over the years. (21, and none since 2007.) I then asked my colleagues at AAR what they would consider an A+ book and if they’d ever read one. The responses were varied, yet many had similar qualities.

Sandy said, “An A+ book is a book that satisfies on every level. It is, in fact, a perfect book. I’ve given just one A+ and that was for Devil’s Cub by Georgette Heyer, a book first published in 1932 that I loved as a teenager and still love today. In my case, it was a book that stood the test of time. I wish now that I’d given an A+ to Untie My Heart by Judith Ivory. I gave it the typical A- back then and I regret it now.”

Wendy L agreed with Sandy and added, “Yes, and it has to provoke an emotional response, either crying, laughter, or anger to make it an A+ for me.” She listed The Truelove Bride by Shana Abe, Games of Command by Linnea Sinclair, possibly Charming Grace by Deborah Smith, and oddly enough Dooly and the SnortSnoot by Jack Kent as books that would rate an A+ for her.

LinneGayl added, “… it would be a book that would stick with me over time. Scenes and characters would pop into my mind, sometimes years after the first reading, and it would be one I would want to reread again and again. They would also be books in which I would hope that the author would write subsequent books featuring the secondary characters, because they too, as well as the hero and heroine, were remarkable and unforgettable. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ve read a romance that would qualify for me, although I can think of a number that would definitely be A’s. I can think of two mysteries, Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters and The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (the first Flavia de Luce) by Alan Bradley that are definitely A+ for me.”

Vicky H said she’d never reviewed a romance that she’d give an A+ to with one exception. She says, “I do have one I would give an A+ if I were writing one today and that is the audio version of Outlander. The narrator’s performance makes it over the top and an A+ in my mind.” LinnieGayl agreed that the audiobook versions of some romances deserve different grades than the written versions. She says, “I can think of several SEPs that would have been an A or A- were I reviewing the print version (Match Me If You Can comes to mind). However, if I were to have written a full review of the Anna Fields audio version, it would definitely be an A+. On the other hand, one of my all-time Nora Roberts’ favorites, Born in Fire, is definitely a solid A for me in print. But in audio, it would be in the B range.”

Jean couldn’t think of a recent romance she’d give an A+ to. She says, “An A+ is perfect in every way – that is not negotiable. Plot, character, setting, pace, prose – all are original, heartfelt and moving, and there isn’t a single extraneous word. Seriously, I have to not find anything wrong with it, or change a thing. I have never given an A+ to a book written after 1980 (probably because my standards are so darn high), but The Black Hawk by Joanna Bourne, The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, and Bound By Your Touch by Meredith Duran come the closest.” She added, “However, if we go back fifty years, then I’d name Georgette Heyer’s Frederica as a personal A+. Everything in that book works for me – everything.”

Lynn S says, “Hmm…that’s tough. I can think of several A’s for me, but an A+ is hard. I haven’t done a reread in several years, but I do think Alinor by Roberta Gellis would probably still hold up for me as would Venetia by Georgette Heyer.”

Pat H also loves Heyer’s Frederica. She says for her, “An A+ would be a book that sucks me into the world and characters so tightly that the real world around me not only dims, but when I’m pulled back to it, I struggle to get back into the fictional world. The main characters are people I know, understand, and love, people I personally would sacrifice for. Not only am I intellectually engaged, I’m viscerally sharing the emotions of the main characters. The A+ book is one I want to read over and over again because of the totality of the experience. The A+ book to me is the epitome of the addiction of reading. Books written after 1970 that fall into this category for me are Maggie Osborne’s Silver Lining, Mary Balogh’s The Temporary Wife and Slightly Dangerous, Carla Kelly’s The Admiral’s Penniless Bride, Lisa Kleypas’ Suddenly You, Maureen McKade’s A Reason to Live, and Sarah Mayberry’s She’s Got It Bad.”

Blythe too is a fan of Outlander. She says, “For me A+ books would not only be perfect, but memorable and maybe even groundbreaking. They are the kind of books that are so absorbing you feel annoyed when your real life intrudes. I can think of several that are solid As for me, but the only two I’d really give an A+ grade to are Outlander (not precisely JUST a romance, but surely about as romantic as it gets) and Mary Jo Putney’s Shattered Rainbows.”

Maggie reserves her A+’s for the classics. She says, “My A+ would be Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. For me it is a perfect read. A second A+ would be Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe.”

Rike has given a book an A+ here at AAR and, had she to do it again, might have given more. She says, “I’ve only given one A+ here at AAR, and that was for Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, which is YA fantasy with a very strong romance. I’ve given quite a few As, though, and when I consider the definition that the book has to stay with you, that you reread it again and again, and want to know about all the secondary characters, then Alinor by Roberta Gellis, In Pursuit of the Green Lion by Judith Merkle Riley, Bride of the Rat God by Barbara Hambly and Nine Coaches Waiting by Mary Stewart also qualify.” She adds, “Among Georgette Heyer’s books, I agree with all who name Frederica. Pitch-perfect, every sentence of it.”

Heather R thinks the A+ book is hard to find. She says, “I think of an A+ book as being a sort of elusive dream. Each time I open a book I’m hoping that it will deliver that perfect blend of superb writing (plot, characterization, dialogue, etc) and strong emotions. I have to love the characters and want to spend time with them. And though it has a satisfactory conclusion, I should be left wanting more. I’m still searching for my A+ read, but to date the book that probably comes closest for me is Laura Kinsale’s My Sweet Folly.

Jane G also hasn’t found the perfect book yet. She says, “I don’t know if I’ve ever read an A+ book, but for me it would be one that I could read over and over and over again– a true DIK– and that I could recommend to almost anyone, unequivocally. The closest thing would be Outlander.”

Leigh thinks that the way we see books changes over time. She says, “I don’t think I have either (read an A+ romance). And it is difficult for me to think of books that are still A books for me. I fall in love with them upon the first reading, but after re-reading them so often they turn into comfort reads, which is not the same as an A book. A books I tend to rave about and recommend to my friends. And after re-reading them so many times they lose their intensity.” The only book she’s given an A to is Sharon Shinn’s Dark Moon Defender. Leigh loves that book because “the hero doesn’t really know what love is. He grew up without it, and he has never experienced it, but his gradual awakening to it, rather than a quick intense blinding revelation touches me so. Add into that his realization he has family, and I can’t help but be touched every time I read it.”

As for me, an A+ book is one I adored the first time I read it, have re-read it several times, and, each time, found further depth and power in its prose. Compared to my colleagues, I’m clearly easier to please–there are at least five books I’d give an A+ to. They are the aforementioned What I Did for a Duke by Julie Anne Long, My Lord and Spymaster by Joanna Bourne, Lord Perfect by Loretta Chase, The Duke of Shadows by Meredith Duran, and Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale.

The Other Guy's Bride by Connie Brockway

Grade: B+

passion rating: warm

As I read Ms. Brockway’s much anticipated The Other Guy’s Bride, I was reminded of one of my favorite featherweight films, the 1999 romantic comedy caper “The Mummy.” The novel, like that delirious movie, stars a strong willed, smart tongued English lass and a sexy, cynical swashbuckler traveling together across early 20th century Egypt, escaping bad guys, outracing sand storms and, of course, falling in love. If you like your romances over the top, filled with danger, passion, and adventure, you will adore The Other Guy’s Bride.

Genisse Braxton hails from a world renowned archaeology-oriented family. Her father, Harry Braxton, is the most successful locator of tombs in Egypt; her mother Desdemona (Dizzy) Braxton is a famous and excessively brilliant linguist. Genisse’s six younger brothers too are making names for themselves in the antiquities world: The eldest of the six is an expert in embalming techniques and 18 year old Francis is a whiz at spotting — and making — forged artifacts. Genisse longs to join, even surpass, her family’s ranks. After studying ancient history at Cambridge (Ms. Brockway acknowledges she took several liberties with history; one is that Cambridge, in the early 20th century, admitted women and had a program in ancient history), Genisse becomes a glorified clerk to handsome Professor Lord Tynesborough, the youngest distinguished professor in the history of the college. One day she stumbles across an ancient bill of lading that convinces her the fabled lost city of Zerzura exists deep in the western Sahara. After doing months of surreptitious research under the watchful eye of Tynesborough, she decides to take hold of her fate. She boards a boat bound for Cairo — the city where her family lives and she grew up — determined to find Zerzura.

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