Huh. I just read the review of this book by Mrs Giggles and I gotta tell ya, that sassy old bird never fails to crack my shit up. Check this out:

Men are dying all over Europe. They were found dead with big smiles on their faces and bigger, er, flagpoles, if you know what I mean. And one woman is responsible for their deaths: teenaged heroine Nicollette Caron! She literally screws her lovers to death! But she doesn’t mean it! All she wants is love! Two men vie for her deadly Crotch of Doom (I hope the people at LKH Lashouts won’t mind me borrowing this phrase for this review): the best detective in England, Jackson Lang, and the most handsome Lord Baston! When Queen Victoria decides that she wants to see the hussy’s head roll (literally) for the things Nicollette is doing to the pious men of England, what will happen next?

Well, I’ll be damned. The Mary Sue Va-jay-jay of Doom. I wonder what kills the men. Are her sexual acrobatics so powerful that they literally stop the hearts of the men she takes to bed? Or is she perhaps the carrier of a particularly virulent form of syphillis and all you gotta do is touch her crotch and you die? Oh my Science, what if her love muffin is actually a VENUS FLY TRAP? Anita Blake would only wish she had that power. Man, it would be so awesome if Anita started killing off men—-supernaturals and humans alike—-with her vagina in the next book. At least it would get rid of the glut of morons fawning over her.

Cover-wise, it’s really very attractive. The girl is pretty (look at those pouting red lips), the red gown she’s wearing as well as all the reds in the background are eye-popping, and there’s just something about it that compels you to look at it. It’s all very erotic. Even the title is intriguing. WHAT DOES IT MEAN? And the subtitle: Who will be the next to die of pleasure in her bed? Ooh. Too bad Mrs. Giggles gave it a 52.

Thanks for saving me 14 bones, Mrs. G! You’re awesome.

Ohhh… yeah. I’ve always prided myself on my innate ability to predict what’s going to be hot in the romance genre. Call me a romance trend-spotter, if you must, but I can tell you what your average romance reader will be salivating over in the coming winter season. ZOMBIES! I don’t know why nobody’s thought about it before. Werewolves may be all hot in their macho alphaness, but they’re still hairy and that constant wet dog smell? Tragic! Vampires insist on wearing only silks and leather, so that’s totally hell on your dry-cleaning bill, and it’s not like you can take them to your daylight company picnic. How long do you think your co-workers will buy that your boyfriend is allergic to sunlight before they just start to look at you in pity and sadly shake their heads? Wizards? Forget about them! They’re notoriously hot-tempered and trust me, there’s no way you’ll ever win an argument if he turned you into a toad every time you raised your voice.

But zombies… they’re the wave of the paranormal romance future. I do believe that these hunky reanimated corpses will save a tired old genre. Just check out these undead hunks and tell me I’m wrong. [Can you believe that you can have this jewel as a desktop wallpaper? I know! I can just die!] The one in the front even looks like a sleazy game show host with pedophilic tendencies and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at him. Hell, I’m in danger of going blind from staring at his… sexiness. [Yeeeees, very niiiiice. How much?] Mmmm… I love me some Peter Brady lookin’ motherfucka in my zombies, man. Never mind that he’s as flat as a pancake in the pectoral area, yet chooses to display it anyway. He’s got balls, yo! Oh, yes, let’s not forget the deranged-looking Val Kilmer and the Backstreet Boy in his drawers standing in the background. Mmmm… man meat galore. And the best part about having a zombie for a romance hero? After the heroine is done with him, she can just stick him in the closet and go back to bed. Sure, he may escape in the middle of the night, atttack her, and eat her brains, but hey… there’s always a price to pay for truuuuuue luuuuurve.

Again, let’s thank the ever delightful Rhian for sending us this gorgeous image.

Trust Amber Quill to know what’s sexy out there, man. I look at this thing and have to restrain myself from tearing my clothes off in a sexual frenzy and rubbing my womanly parts against the edge of my desk. Oh, science! How can you not want to look at this gorgeous sight every morning? Mmm… just check out the gorgeous clay-like consistency of this man’s skin. Real skin is overrated anyway. Play-doh is where it’s at, bay-bee! And the skin creases at his hip? Doesn’t make me think of unkneaded dough at all. No, man, it makes me think of top sirloin I can definitely sink my teeth into. Yes, this wallpaper makes me say “uhhh… uhhh… naaaah-naaaah-naaah-naaah”. And just think of how useful this guy would be around the house. You can mold him into a new lamp or a very large dildo or whatever your heart’s desire may be. So what are you waiting for? Click on the image (which will take you to a larger version), right-click the sucker, and save it as your desktop wallpaper today. Right now!

You kids may thank the lovely Rhian for directing us to this treasure.

In any group of three girls, there’s always the smart one, the quiet one, and then there’s the slut. Me, I was always the smart one, believe it or not, but I hung out with potheads and whores. Anyway, the one in the green looks like the quiet one. She’s got a dreamy look on her face and she’s wearing a pretty little green dress. There’s something very demure about her. She’s definitely never done it in the butt. I bet she’s an “over the clothes only” kind of girl. The Asian chick is probably the smart one because stereotypes are funny that way and I bet she knows a bunch of ninja hacking tricks. She’s wearing some kind of weird Star Trek outfit, so she’s probably from the future or something. Maybe she even knows martial arts. Wouldn’t that blow your mind. The white girl in the middle… yeah, she’s definitely the whore. She’s got some idiotic necklace thingey around her head, so she’s probably a hippy vegetarian from California and everyone knows that those chicks are whores. Oh, hell, she’s probably a total tease and won’t even let yout touch her tit even if you buy her dinner ’cause she’s got “too much self-respect” or something.

What the hell am I even talking about? This is a Liquid Silver book, so you know these chicks are going to get banged big time. But in a “distinctive, classy… hot” way, of course. It’s too bad these chicks look like they could pose for Young Adult books. Creepy. The one in the middle is still totally the slut, though.

I managed to temporarily get past my severe aversion to snakes to read and actually finish this book. You’d have been proud of me, Ma, I only had to restrain myself from vomiting once! Was all my hard work worth it? In parts, yes, but mostly, not so much. I have never met a hero so repulsive and obnoxious, yet kind of hot at the same time. I was so conflicted! He calls the heroine a slut, a bitch, a whore, and “pet,” treats her like a prostitute, is an all-around dickweed to everyone else, and yet there was something sexy about him. Could it be that he could transform himself into a ten-foot anaconda? No, that can’t be it. Snakes are gross, period. All kidding aside, even if every single character in this book weren’t part-time reptiles, I don’t think I could have given this book a higher grade because every single person in this book is thoroughly unlikeable. The heroine is a simpering, giggling (she giggles a lot) fake bad-girl type whose one issue is… get this… the type of snake she is. *sigh* There’s just too much smirking, snarling, growling, and all around posturing in this book, but doesn’t pack a lot of mental or emotional punch. I will admit, as much as it pains me, that the sex is hot. Read it for the sex alone, especially if you like your sex scenes darker, with lots of slapping and name-callling. Be prepared, however, for the shoddy editing and the numerous grammatical errors. I printed this thing out to read during my Victorian Themes: Sexual Repression class and I gotta tell you, my red pen and I went to town.
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