Grade: A-

Dear Bam,

I remember standing in the bookstore with Slave to Sensation in my hand, wondering if I really felt like reading another shape-shifter book. Like a true putz, I put it back on the shelf because I thought it was… who knows. Too purple? Too sexy? Too something. Then I read your review and posted this in the comments section for all of you who don’t remember:

DAMN IT, BAM! I had this in my hand in the bookstore yesterday. WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE POSTED IT EARLIER?? Yes, I’m yelling at you. I spent $25 at lunch on two new books and I KNEW I should have added this to the stack.

Yep. Ran out that day to get Slave to Sensation and devoured it like a bag of peanut M&Ms. I couldn’t tell you what the other two books I bought were, so shame on me. As you can imagine, I couldn’t wait to get my greedy paws on Visions of Heat. I’m happy to say that Ms. Singh didn’t disappoint with her second effort in the Psy/Changeling/Human world. For those of you who didn’t read the first book in the series, do not fear. Ms. Singh deftly describes the world of the Psy who believe themselves superior above all the other humanoid creatures on Earth. In 1979, the Psy created SILENCE (shouldn’t it be called Psylence? Too J. R. Ward?) in an attempt to rid their population of hatred, jealousy, greed, and other such negative emotions. Of course, you can’t get rid of the bad without destroying the good, so the Psy are locked in an emotionless world that seems full of totally frigid robots. For those of you who were delighted by Slave to Sensation, fear not. Ms. Singh does not get into a repetitive cycle when world-building, and reading about the PsyNet, Psy Council and Psy hierarchy brings new perspective to the Changeling/Psy/Human landscape.

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I’ve never really been interested in manga. The heroine’s big, blue over-emotional eyes and ridiculously long, flowing tresses never sit well with me, especially since I was a young Asian female looking for people who looked like me in my comics (short, brown, stout, black hair, commanded by angry Asian mother to take a shower). I always thought, “Oh, come on… no one looks like that. Not even white people.” But then again, I used to read my mother’s old HPs and think, “Oh, come on, no one acts or talks like this. Not even white people.” Which is why it made sense for Harlequin to take their old HPs and turn them into manga comics. There are plenty of big, blue over-emotional eyes and ridiculously long, flowing tresses to be found there. Oh! And I love the idea of some forbidding, brooding, glowering tycoon or sheikh looking like Tuxedo Mask. That is hot. Inspired by Jan’s review of a Harlequin Ginger Blossom, I decided to hot-foot it to eharlequin.com and buy a few of my own. In fact, I bought the entire backlist. THANKS A LOT, JAN! It actually works out because they’re quick and easy reads and I’ll be able to review them much more quickly. Oh, man, I can’t wait till they get here!

By the way, in light of my new obsession, I rewatched Black Hawk Down, where Eric plays a kickass Delta Force guy. Does anyone have any book recs that feature a Navy Seal-type or… you know… Delta Force-type hero? I’m even tempted to dig out my old Suzanne Brockmanns and Harlequin American Romances.

Love,

I’ve always been a little meh about Eric Bana. I thought he was the best-looking man in Blackhawk Down and that movie is full of good-looking men, but he never really got my girly parts tingly. Sure, I wouldn’t have ever kicked him out of bed or anything, but he… just didn’t do it for me. He was hotter than Brad Pitt in Troy and he was sufficiently angsty in The Hulk, but it wasn’t till Munich when I thought… “wow, that’s a real man.” Maybe it’s because he plays a killer in it and he’s all… torn between family and duty… sexy. Then I saw the trailer for his latest movie Lucky You with Drew Barrymore where he plays a professional gambler and I was like, “Man… homeboy is the hawtness!” In the trailer I saw, he steals Drew Barrymore’s life savings so he could gamble it away. That just killed me. I can’t stand Drew Barrymore—-she’s so bubbly and cheerful that it makes me throw up—-but I just might see this movie. I mean, it’s probably going to be terrible… but like, dude… he steals her money so he could gamble it away! That’s so horrible and awesome at the same time.

Anyway, I’m feeling icky and gross today. Looking at this picture made me feel a little better, so I thought I should share it with you guys.

[Reviews by Annie Dean]

Dear John

Grade: C-

Dane Harley was poor white trash wrapped in Goth girl giftwrap. John Stratton lived in a big Victorian house on the hill. In their misspent youth, they ran wild together. Ten years ago, she left him in the lurch because of some crazy shit John’s daddy said about her ruining John’s future. Okay, so maybe I can buy she would be that simpleminded as a teenager. At 17, I bought into some pretty dramatic shit. So she takes off and cuts ties to her hometown of Chatham Village.

Now she’s back for the high school reunion and she hasn’t seen her best friend Roxy in all those years. They haven’t spoken either. Instead of calling her a thoughtless bitch and slamming the door on her, Roxy invites Dane in for some heavy drinking and girl bonding. They relive old times and go through the yearbook together. Read an old love letter John sent Dane. Of course they decide Dane should look John up and make amends for…yep, you guessed it. Writing him a ‘dear John’ letter.

Ms. Kent’s writing style in this story doesn’t rock my world, but it doesn’t annoy me either, although it occasionally veers toward the purple. On page 23, the heroine “practically screamed at him” and then at the bottom “she screamed at him, trembling with self-hatred”. That’s a little florid for my tastes.

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… Even with a broken neck. Is it me or… does Cassie seem to be suffering from 1) a severe curvature of the spine or 2) just really bad posture? I had to really, really stare at this cover because I couldn’t tell at first if Cassie has her back to us and is looking over her shoulder (in that case, pssst… Cassie, I think your neck is broken) or if her front is as flat as her back. Ba-zing! Wait, wait… if I squint really hard, I can detect some boobage there. A little saggy, though. Dear old Cassie could use a bra, methinks, pull those babies up a little. She looks so frail, our Cassie, like she’d snap if she moved too much. Good thing boyfriend over there appears to be the kind of guy who prefers his women to stay very, very still while he’s making love to them. Maybe he even makes them take a very, very cold shower first. You know what I mean, homegirls? I mean, dude is… OH MY GOD! What the hell is going on with his fingers? Hell, what the hell is wrong with his hands? Not only are his fingers stubby-looking and freakishly short, his palm is also… oddly wide, but short. I don’t care how cute a guy is… if he’s got fugly hands, he ain’t getting his mitts on my hot bod. And his arm is also distractingly short. Maybe he’s a tall guy, but has little people limbs. Tragic! Ugh, I can’t look at his hands anymore. They make me nauseous. And what’s with the morbid-ass title? Is he tired of Cassie saying goodbye to him, so he’s going to end it once and for all and throw her off the cliff? “I’ve had it with you saying goodbye to me, Cassie! You will say goodbye… for the last time!” Dear God, I need a drink. It’s too early for this shit.

Thanks a lot, Amber!