I may accidentally reveal how the movie ends. I’m terrible that way.

The movie opens with a bunch of drunken fools on videotape telling the camera how much they love the newly married couple and wishing them good luck. The video dissolves and we see a couple driving around in a Jeep all goofy and laughing, with the bride’s foot hanging out in the window. The groom is Steve Zahn and he is a screenwriter from Venice Beach and his bride, Leeloo Multipass is Mrs. Screenwriter’s Wife from Pacific Palisades. They are recounting the events of their wedding with Steve Zahn mentioning that his douchebag brother from Massachusetts just had to give him one last noogie and Leeloo counters that she thought the brother was from Maryland and Steve Zahn says, “Whose brother is it, anyway?” They giggle like newly married tools. Leeloo’s foot hits a low-hanging branch as Steve Zahn drives a little close to the side of the road and Leeloo shrieks, but Steve Zahn apologizes and kisses her.

The pair are in Kauai and are about to go hiking and find a kickass beach in the middle of nowhere to have sex in where they are likely to stumble upon a lost tribe of Filipino cannibals who’ll skin them alive and roast them like spam to eat with their warm bottles of San Miguel Beer. They stop at a tourist gift shop to pick up the necessary permits and some sun-and-sand paraphernalia. Leeloo picks up sunblock and stuff like that while Steve Zahn talks important manly hiking stuff with the cashier. Leeloo drops her armload of crap on the counter and demands from Steve Zahn a declaration that he missed her while she was gone for nine seconds, but Steve Zahn ignores her even as she rubs up against him and promises to give him a blowie in the car if he did so. Steve Zahn continues to ignore her and Leeloo gets huffy until Steve Zahn kisses her and reveals he was just pretending to ignore her all along. The cashier rolls his eyes. Steve Zahn is oblivious as he pulls out a big wad of cash to pay for their stuff as some squirrelly looking brown people look hungrily at the money and mutter some gibberish native language to make the white honeymooning couple and the audience suspect that the locals will follow their dumb cracker asses, beat the shit out of them, and steal their money. And possibly rape the wife. The two idiots drive away happily as the locals stare at them in their squirrelly manner. They run over a newspaper reporting the massacre of two haoles in Oahu and the suspects are still on the loose. Foreshadowy!

Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass are driving merrily along when they come across a couple of unwashed hippies thumbing for a ride on the side of the road. Much to Leeloo’s distress, Steve Zahn stops and invites the couple to hop on. Leeloo gives Steve Zahn the death stare and wonders out loud why they would do something so incredibly stupid now such as pick up hitchhikers when it’s something that they normally wouldn’t do. Steve Zahn is slightly cowed by the daggers in Leeloo’s eyes and lamely reasons that it’s Hawaii and NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS IN HAWAII. (except earthquakes and volcanoes and the possibility of the islands getting swallowed by a giant tsunami and dumb tourists who wake up in a tub of ice with their kidneys removed… or is that Mexico?)

The dirty hippie girl is played by Marly Shelton whom I’ve always thought is really pretty, but she’s got dreadlocks in this movie, gross―and hops happily into Steve Zahn and Leeloo’s Adventure Jeep even though Leeloo is still giving Steve Zahn a death glare and being totally obvious about not wanting dirty hippies in their Adventure Jeep where they apparently partake in dangerous sexual exploits while driving. Steve Zahn ends up reneging on the invite by telling the hippies they’re probably not going as far as they are and Marly Shelton’s boyfriend pops up calling Steven Zahn on his bullshit and he’s obviously some kind of criminal and has a tattoo on his bare chest that says Do Not Revive which makes Steve Zahn totally nervous.

Sensing her partner’s mounting rage and aware of his inclination to crush the faces of smug hippies with his fists, Marly Shelton hurriedly brings out photos of their dirty hippie wedding which she shows to Leeloo Multipass. Leeloo, who is obviously a sucker for cheesy pictures, changes her mind about taking in potentially murderous hitchhikers and says what the hey, come aboard. But Do Not Revive’s manhood has been totally insulted and they would rather walk, fuck you very much, and drags Marley Shelton out of the Jeep. Mr and Mrs Steve Zahn, while totally freaked about Do Not Revive’s violent outburst, shrug it off and continue on their merry way.

At this point, I turn to Marc and tell him I don’t think they’re the killers. Why would they be? Sure, Do Not Revive looks like he would happily kick a puppy through a field goal and would probably be the type to smack a woman around for having a smart mouth and there’s something about the way Marly Shelton looks that suggests these two have a filthy drug habit and that Do Not Revive isn’t opposed to pimping out his wife so they can score the cash to buy some sweet, sweet meth. Not that meth isn’t an evil thing that pushes people to do crazy things like joyously murder people while in the act of mugging them and who’s to say that Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive wouldn’t have been the kind of people to mug the folks who kindly offered them a ride. But I said bullshit because… oh come on.

“Ten bucks say Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass are the killers and they’re not who they say they are,” I say to Marc.

“That would be pretty cool,” Marc says.

“Yeah, this movie would suddenly be a hundred times cooler.” And as I said that, I realized that if this movie were indeed full of “twists and turns,” my speculation would be the likely “twist.”

Steve Zahn and Leeloo set off on their hiking trip and there are some really kickass and breathtaking scenes that made me wish I had a lot of money and could just take off for Hawaii tomorrow especially since Newport Beach’s weather has been total ass. Along the way, they encounter a scary cliff that Steve Zahn hesitates to scale because he wears glasses and he’s a Hollywood screenwriter and that’s just not the kind of stuff he’s into. He and Leeloo are gawking in fear at the very real possibility of death by falling off a cliff when a tall, muscular, a-little-too-friendly bloke easily steps over the crevasse they’ve been staring at and encourages Steve Zahn in a gruff, macho way to stop being a vagina and just take a step. Steve Zahn makes it to the other side though not as gracefully, then extends his arm to Leeloo telling her it’s not a big deal. Leeloo goes for it but her foot slips and she would have plunged to a certain death had it not been for my favorite happy-go-lucky sociopath, Timothy Olyphant (who will always be sexy-delicious to me because of Deadwood) who easily reaches out and grabs her arm before she could fall. Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass look upon Timothy Olyphant’s rough, granite-hard visage with equal parts fear, awe, and possibly sexual arousal ’cause dude is just that awesome. The man has been known to impregnate women just by winking and smiling at them. True story.

Timothy Olyphant is obviously the macho alpha to Steve Zahn’s bespectacled beta as evidenced by the former’s lack of gear because real men don’t need hiking accoutrement like sissies. Steve Zahn and Leeloo, however, are packed like they spent their year’s salary at Dave’s World O’ Camping and have it all strapped to their backs. Timothy Olyphant tells the twosome that he’s heading for this kickass beach that no one knows about and Leeloo is totally like, “ZOMG, can we tag along?” Steve Zahn is a little more reluctant, but Leeloo is looking like she wants to shove new hubby down a ravine and attach herself to Timothy Olyphant’s back like that creepy Yoda backpack. The honeymooning couple follow Timothy Olyphant like he’s that surly, gay British actor who plays Edward Cullen and they’re 13-year-old Twihards at a Fangbanger Convention.

On the way, the threesome bump into a bunch of shrill, hysterical college girls on vacation who are totally freaking out because the father of one of the girls saw the Oahu massacre on the news and wants his daughter to come home. Leelo is concerned and asks if there are suspects in custody, but the girls are too busy panicking, though they manage to reveal that the killers are a couple: a man and a woman. “Oh, yeah, like Natural Born Killers!” Steve Zahn looks at Timothy Olyphant like he’s wearing a hockey mask and wielding a machete, but Timothy Olyphant is like, “Whatevz, bitches. Come or don’t.” Leelo reminds Steve Zahn that they’re on they’re honeymoon and Oahu is, like, a million miles from Kauai, and they go with Timothy Olyphant anyway because he’s by himself and could not possibly be a part of a couple. During their companionable chitchat, Steve Zahn reveals he’s a screenwriter and Timothy Olyphant immediately looks interested and calls him a “screenplay writer,” even though Steve Zahn insists it’s just “screenwriter.” Timothy Olyphant says if Steve Zahn is looking for ideas, he should probably write about Timothy Olyphant because he’s awesome and has seen more fucked up things in his life that anyone who has ever lived. He adds that there would be many “twists and turns” as well as a few “red snappers,” to which Steve Zahn says, “It’s ‘red herring’,” and Timothy Olyphant says, “I’m pretty sure it’s called a ‘red snapper,’ dude, but you’re the screenplay writer.”

The three of them manage to make it to this super-secret beach where there is a very hot, very gorgeous, very naked chick floating on the water in a raft. Timothy Olyphant immediately strips off his clothes and jumps in to join her, introducing the woman as the “crazy love of my crazy life.” That’s apaprently one to many “crazy” in one sentence for Steve Zahn and he totally wants to book it ’cause uh, HELLO, the killers are a couple and Timothy Olyphant is no longer a solitary dude! Leeloo Multipass must have taken some oblivious clueless pills this morning because she totally ignored Steve Zahn’s look of alarm, takes off her own damn clothes, and dives into the pool to join the crazy couple in love. While Leelo Multipass is canoodling with their potential killers, Steve Zahn hears a noise and goes to investigate—dingleberry!—guess who he finds? The meth-head lovers, Marly Shelton and my favorite skull-fucker, DO NOT REVIVE, of course! Do Not Revive makes threatening, grandstanding gestures at Steve Zahn who’s all, “Gulp!” and says, “Oh, so you’re a lying liar who lies and couldn’t give us a ride because you were going the other way and now here we are, somehow ending up at the same place. Quelle coincidence, no?” Timothy Olyphant jumps to the rescue and scares away the meth-heads. They go back to the pool where the girls are, tells the girls to hurry, but Steve Zahn just has to look through their bags to look for their hiking permit. He is unable to find it, but he finds the bag of Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive and looks through it too, just to be sure that their hiking permits haven’t been stolen by the dirty hippies. Suddenly, Timothy Olyphant is all, “Dude, seriously, get a move on,” and Steve Zahn hauls ass and away they go.

They end up at a cliff just as the sun is starting to set and the four of them are all awed by its beauty. They decide to camp out for the night and hang out for a bit before continuing the hike down to the beach. Timothy Olyphant announces he’s hungry and is going hunting for wildlife and taunts Steve Zahn for being a pussy when Steve Zahn says he’s not very comfortable with killing animals. Timothy Olyphant starts babbling about himself being in the Special Forces and how he’s really hard to kill since he once took a shrapnel to the back of the head and half of his skull is made of titanium now. Pretty Blond Girlfriend gives him a look like, “shut the fuck up, bro,” and Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass get nervous and shoot each other anxious WTF stares.

Suddenly, the guys hear a noise in the jungle and set off to investigate while the girls are left alone to talk and do what girls do. The pretty blond girl who plays Timothy Olyphant’s girlfriend starts talking about her childhood growing up in Virginia or Georgia or West Virginia (I forget) and how good she is with guns and killing things and even Leeloo Multipass who is totally oblivious to the fact that their hiking companions could be serial killers is like, “Gulp!” When Blond Girlfriend is finished talking, she points to Leeloo Multipass and tells her it’s her turn. Leeloo Multipass is reluctant at first and Blond Girlfriend mocks her about her perfect life and Leeloo Multipass gets annoyed and says her life is hardly perfect and she just really wants to have kids and talks about her own childhood and tells a story about a guy she dated named Rocky who showed her a dead dog he mutilated on their 1st date. Blond Girlfriend is all, “WTF!” The guys return and Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass go into their tent and plot some way to escape their would-be killers without alerting the other two that the jig is up. They decide to stay till morning and wake up to helicopters ordering them to get out of their tents. The foursome is wondering what the heck is going on when they see a bunch of cops arresting Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive who are violently resisting. The cops tell the foursome that they found a little box full of teeth in the bags of the meth-head lovers which makes them the killers because the killers liked to take out the teeth of their victims.

After the cops are gone, the foursome look at each other and laugh, saying stuff like, “Whoa, we thought you were the killers,” and “Noooo… we thought YOU were the killers. Oh, funny coincidences! Now that neither of us could possibly BE the killers, we can all let our guards down and relax. Hooray!”

But you knew the meth-head couple couldn’t possibly be the killers because we have about twenty minutes left in the movie. So who’s the killer now?

This movie turned out to be a lot more fun that I thought it would be. It’s not an Academy Award contender or anything, but it’s still an okay way to spend about eighty minutes especially when you don’t have cable and you’re wondering what you should watch while enjoying Tuesday’s Macaroni Surprise. Steve Zahn plays a good hapless husband who’s a total dork and can/can’t fend off a couple of crazed killers and Leeloo Multipass is always nice to look at and even though she’s not the best actress of her generation, she and Steve Zahn do well together. As for Timothy Olyphant, it’s always nice to see this guy because I enjoy him as an actor even though he always seems to be playing a badass who knows his weapons and may or may not be a serial killer, but that’s just his charm. Blond Girlfriend whose name I can’t be bothered to look up was also nice to look at and does a passable job with what she’s given. The four of them work well enough together and have good chemistry. The dialogue is a little painful, but the director knows pacing and sustains the tension and suspense well enough throughout the movie even though you’ll probably guess who the killers are midway through but will watch the rest anyway just to see if you are right. I give it an Aiiiiiight and a 75/100. Surprisingly better than it should be, but I did see the trailer originally and thought, “Oh, man, this movie is going to be TERRIBLE. I have to see it!”

But fate is seemingly kind to pretty, blond people and the princess called Corinne and the dirty uncle called Christopher, change their last name to Dollaganger, manage to build a happy little life together, in love and utterly ensnared with each other’s remarkable golden blond looks. Genetics be damned, the two pretty pretty people make love like pretty pretty blond monkeys and produce two perfectly beautiful blond and blue eyed children with two arms, two legs, and are luckily intelligent and talented in their own special way. The blond girl-child is named Cathy and the blond boy-child is named Christopher, after their father. The two children are so utterly perfect and doll-like that they are nicknamed the Dresden Dolls. The girl-child is beloved by the father and shows signs of growing up to be one of those creatures seeking a man to marry who will love her the way Daddy had loved her. The boy-child is favored by the mommy. The mother Corrine, unsatisfied with her current lot and practically mocking fate to give her mutant deformed babies, gets pregnant again and has two more perfectly golden blond babies, fraternal twins called Cory and Carrie. Cathy pouts when she discovers she will no longer be the baby of the family and solicits a promise from her daddy that he will not love the new girl-child more than he loves her and as a testament to that promise, Daddy puts on a heart-shaped garnet ring on Cathy’s tiny doll-like finger.

The Dollagangers live happily for a bit, though it’s obvious there are some unsavory things brewing in the mist. Young Cathy, for example, seems unhealthily attached to her father and is almost hostile to her mother. Young Christopher, on the other hand, thinks the world of his mother and that all women should strive to be like her, the paragon of womanly perfection. The twins Carrie and Cory are left to their own devices, but that’s okay because they’re eerily attached to each other and speak their own alien language. And then Fate decides she’s sick of the Dollagangers creepy little homelife and takes away the father with a brutal car accident (VC Andrews’ favorite character-killer). According to the police, he would have walked away from the initial impact with only minor bruises and scrapes, if his car hadn’t been hit by another car, causing it roll over and over, and explode into flames. Cathy is despondent, Mother doesn’t know what to do because she had been raised only to depend on a man and really knows nothing about living in the real world without one, and little Christopher realizes he is now the man of the house. The twins Carrie and Cory coo in the corner and wonder what the hell is going on.

Corrine, unable to cope with the mounting unpaid bills and her own inability to take care of herself much less her four growing children, write and plead with her truly evil, unforgiving parents to take herself and her little family in. When inquisitive little Cathy asks why Corrine was disinherited in the first place, Corrine is forced to admit that she married her dirty uncle and her parents were disgusted with her. She explains to her children that her family is rich—very, very, very rich—and they could be the heirs to a great fortune if Corrine could only get her father to forgive her. The letter from Corrine’s mother finally arrives and Corrine commands her children to pack as lightly as they could and ushers them into a train in the dead of night—lest they are seen by debt collectors—bound for Virginia. When the train gets to Virginia, Cathy is confused when her mother asks the conductor to stop in the middle of nowhere so that they can get off. Corrine tells the children that they would have to hike to the mansion now. Corrine reasons that the father does not know about the children, so Corrine would have to hide the children in the attic of the mansion first before catching up to the train at the main stop and pretending she had traveled by herself. Corrine begs Cathy to understand that the father must forgive Corrine first before she could introduce the children to him and she’s absolutely sure that the evil father will love the beautiful blond children as much as they’ve ever been loved by their beautiful blond parents.

The children are ushered into the attic via a hidden staircase by their apologetic, anxious mother and a large, forbidding, austere woman that Corrine introduces as the children’s grandmother. The woman calls the children “devil’s issue” and says they should never have been born because they are an abomination. Corrine assures her beautiful blond babies that it will only be for the night, two at most, and then they will be let out of the attic and they can all live happily ever after in the lap of luxury. Cathy is suspicious, but allows herself to be convinced even as doubt and resentment begin to fester in her tiny little heart. She studies the dusty, dank room and glares at her mother, who smiles feebly. Cathy frowns at the two beds. The grandmother orders that the girls will share one bed and the boys will share the other. And they are never ever to be naked in each other’s presence. And to be very, very quiet or they will get the brunt of her cold rage. Corrine promises she will see them soon and blows kisses before she is dragged out of the door by the wide-shouldered grandmother. The four beautiful blond children stare in horror at the closing door and gulp as the lock ominously clicks.

The overnight stay turns into three days, stretches into a week, then a month. Corrine sneaks a visit to the children as often as she can, each time promising them that it will be just a little bit more. The father, it turns out, is a little more unforgiving than she remembered and with that, she shows the children the whipping lashes on her back. Her punishment, she says. The grandfather will die soon, she tells the children, and they will inherit everything and they’re all going to be so filthy rich. The children plot to win over the grandmother, but that proves to be an impossible task because the woman hates them and refuses to talk to them every morning that she hauls up the big picnic basket filled with the children’s provisions for the day. At first, they are veritable feasts, each meal more delicious than the next. And then, little by little, the quality of the food they are brought begins to deteriorate: the chicken is bland and cold, the bread is stale, there’s never any dessert, and the soup is never ever hot. Even the mother’s visits become more infrequent. And yet each time, she seems to be more beautiful, cheerful, happier, and healthier than she has ever been, bringing them lavish gifts and solemn promises that the day they are set free will be soon, a week at most. Much to the dismay of her brother Chris, Cathy begins to taunt her mother, confronting her with her lies: “You said it was just going to be another week, Mother,” “Where have you been, Mother?” and “Why haven’t you come to visit us in a month, Mother?”

As the months stretch into years, the children entertain each other by cleaning up the attic and making it a more livable space. Cathy dreams of becoming a prima ballerina and practices with the barre that Chris has installed for her. Chris wants to become a doctor someday, poring over the books their mother brings especially for him. The two of them become the default parents of their two younger siblings, rousing them from their nightmares, staying up to watch over them when they have a cold, comforting them when they are hurt. But because they are deprived of sunlight, the twins remain sickly and thin, their heads growing much faster than their bodies. They are pale and wan, crying for their mother. Cathy, feeling helpless and unable to do more for the twins, begins to blame the mother, hating her for putting them in such a dreadful situation, even as Chris attempts to placate her, inventing excuses for why their mother hasn’t visited them in two months.

With Cathy growing more embittered, Chris half-heartedly believing that their mother still loves them, and the twins becoming more wan and sickly each day, they stare fruitlessly at the door, waiting. But the door remains locked. And no one ever comes to guide them out.

If you think this story is about four children who eventually win over their grandparents, the servants, and their own selfish, inconsiderate mother with their winsome, charming ways and live happily ever after, you are wrong. I saw the movie before I read the book. I was maybe eleven years old. It was two o’clock in the morning, I couldn’t sleep because I had the worst head cold, so I was browsing through the channels, and stumbled upon the movie on TBS. There was Kristy Swanson from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, some guy whom I always thought was a blond Craig Sheffer, and two creepy blond children. They were locked in an attic by their mother and grandmother for four years and Kristy Swanson and the blond not-Craig Sheffer were starting to give each other looks that said, “Hey, how you doin’?” And I was like, “Ewwwww!” but I was fascinated and kept watching. I was in the 7th grade when I found the book by V.C. Andrews. I was looking for some Babysitters’ Club books when I came across Flowers in the Attic. I brought it home and devoured it, neglecting my homework, chores, dinner, and favorite TV shows, one of which was Beverly Hills, 90210. I was hooked: disgusted, scared, creeped out, and yet breathless for the moment that Cathy and Chris might finally kiss… yeah, yeah, I was twelve, all right?

This book is about the ultimate evil: a mother who deliberately locks up her own children in an attic so she can pretend to be a single woman, living a life of luxury and riches that they will never know, all the while promising her children that everything will be okay. The mother figure is the one person a child should be able to trust, when she tells you “It’s all right, sweetie, there are no monsters in the dark,” a child should be able to believe her. It doesn’t quite work when the mother IS the monster in the dark. Corrine is manipulative, greedy, and will stop at nothing to get what she wants, even if it means torturing her own children. Which brings me to what made me feel really uncomfortable about this book: there is not one redeemable female character in it. Every woman in this book, down to the five-year-old Carrie, is despicable. It pits woman against woman, mother against daughter, and sister against sister at every turn. Olivia, the grandmother, is embittered, overly religious, uncaring, and punishes her own daughter through her children because the daughter eloped with her own uncle while she herself is unloved by a cheating, philandering husband who sleeps with the wife of his own brother and gets her pregnant. Corrine, seemingly well-intentioned and a loving, though clueless mother, collapses emotionally after the death of her husband, and in her desperation, begs her cruel, sadistic parents to take her back, forsaking her children when her parents tell her that they’re not part of the deal. Cathy, though young and inexperienced, is already vindictive and suspicious, plotting the downfall of her mother and using her not inconsiderable charms to manipulate her brother who already sees her in a not-quite brotherly way. Carrie, the child, just whines and… is annoying. The males in this book, however, are portrayed as weak creatures who are easily swayed by feminine wiles, susceptible to the lures of the flesh and other vices, and… well, they have this tendency to succumb to their dirty, dirty urges, and rape the woman when the need shoved them to do so.

What makes this book a classic, a total smorgasbord of cheese and over-the-top what-the-fuckery that would make a Mexican telenovela veteran writer go, “What the shit was that?!?” is the overwrought, overcooked prose. The seventeen year old MALE Chris, for example, talks like Dame Barbara Cartland wrote. The entire third act was basically Chris narrating the whole thing to Cathy complete with lurid descriptions of everything down to the furniture and their mother’s Joan Collins wardrobe and dialogue tags with adverbs. This book would not have worked without it. It had to be lurid and over-the-top and cheesy because otherwise the contents and the plot are probably scary enough to make you have nightmares for years. There’s poison, incest, torture, unkind grandmothers who give her grandchildren spoiled chicken and stale bread instead of warm gingerbread cookies, creepy dirty uncles, blond-haired blue-eyed children whose heads are too big for their bodies, a dusty dirty attic with a toilet that tends to get backed up and no way to unclog it except with your hands and a wire hanger, daddies dying in a massive car explosion, and pretty blond girls who have to go bald because their evil grandmothers poured hot tar on their hair while they’re sleeping. This book also made me afraid of powdered donuts, mice, and sitting in a crowded, hot bus getting progressively nauseous without anywhere to throw up. The bad—nay, dramatic writing exists to protect the reader from the cornucopia of evil things happening in this book, so you can tell yourself afterward that it’s just a fairytale as conceived by the bastard child of Dame Barbara Cartland and Clive Barker. That’s all it is.

Did I ever tell you about my irrational, yet bowel-loosening fear of blond-haired, blue-eyed children?

I was watching this interview with Lawrence Krauss and Richard Dawkins in the living room while lying on the couch (Marc was on floor, lounging on a bunch of pillows and playing with the cat). I had lit up a sandalwood incense, so that sweet, minty thing scent hung in the air. At one point, I turned on my side and promptly fell asleep.

I dreamt I was in the Philippines at my grandfather’s house in Olongapo City, hanging out in front of the convenience store we owned, drinking from a bottle of Coke. For some reason, I began looking for my mother and sisters whom I couldn’t find. This old-timey rotary phone rings and I pick it up: it’s my mother wanting me to pick her up at this house just a few blocks away. She was playing mah-jong with some friends (my mother, as far as I know, has never played a game of mah-jong in her life) and didn’t want to walk home. I hop on my old BMX bike, but somehow as I am riding it, it turns into the crappy car I have now. The roads change too; there are suddenly stop signs and traffic lights (and there ain’t no stop signs and traffic lights in Olongapo; people just drive around however they feel like it). In my mind, the house my mother was talking about is just a few blocks away. Just cross Magsaysay Drive and it’s right past Saint Columban Church. All of a sudden I am driving on Manzanitas Road (which I think is in San Diego somewhere) and panicking slightly because how the eff was I going to get to my mother? I’m driving and driving (it was a really long road) and I’m passing graveyards and beaches and foresty landscapes and I’m pretty sure I’m lost. I turn on this one street so I could double-back around and there’s this snow embankment that pops up in front of me (it doesn’t and has never ever snowed in the Philippines). There is another car there, too. It is an older red Toyota Camry and it’s stuck in the snow. I stop and get out of the car. A middle-aged white guy wearing a gray pull-over sweater and jeans comes out and wants to know if he can get a ride back to the city. This tall blond lady come out after him and she’s wearing a pair of jeans she says the hotel let her borrow and a white peasant blouse. We all go into my car and I start driving again when I realize I’m looking right at the blond lady (she’s sitting in the back seat) and I can’t see where I’m going because the driver’s seat seem to be facing her. I pull over the car again and the middle-aged white guy help me adjust the seats so that they are facing forward again. We get back into the car and on we go.

And then I wake up. It sounds mundane now that I’ve written it all out and read it back to myself, but I swear to God, when I first woke up on that couch, I was scared to death and very close to freaking out. My neck was shrieking in pain, my mouth was dry, and when I swallowed, it felt like there were razor blades in my throat. Marc had fallen asleep on the floor and I shook him awake so I could tell him my dream, but after I finished, he didn’t say anything, so I called out his name a couple of times before realizing he had fallen back asleep while I was telling him about my dream. I got pissed, so I left him in the living room, went to the bathroom to pop an Aleve, then hopped onto bed and fired up my laptop. Twittered about it. And now here I am.

Seriously, wtf was that? Why was I so scared when I first woke up? I mean, my heart was pounding, my shirt was drenched with sweat, and I had this compulsion to hide. And I never dream about people I have never before seen in real life and I had never seen those people before. Ever. I swear to God, I am never taking Benadryl before watching Richard Dawkins ever again. Stress hives be damned.

WARNING: There is dirty naked sex within. Please do not proceed if you will be offended by graphic descriptions of sexual situations. Just kidding. It’s Rated R at best. I don’t even know if I used the word “cock” except in this instance.

Please read chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve if you haven’t already.

After five years, Daisy Sawyer has finally come home. Not that she’s too happy about it. She had a great life in LA: rubbing elbows with celebrities, hopping from one exclusive bar to the other, and best of all, she didn’t have to answer to anyone. But when a drunken night of partying lands her in jail, the only person she can count on is her estranged brother, Alec, the leader of a powerful were-leopard clan. Forced to choose between a prison sentence or face the life she abandoned years ago, Daisy returns… but she doesn’t have to like it…

Christian LeBeau owes Alec Sawyer his life. He will do anything for the man, even babysit his bratty baby sister. But Christian never imagined that Daisy could grow up to be so beautiful… and forbidden in more ways than one. His mind tells him she is the one woman he can never have, but his body refuses to listen. All he has to do is take care of Daisy until Alec finds her a proper were-leopard to marry, then Chris could wash his hands of her and get on with his life… but fate seems to have other plans.

And now, I present to you… Chasing Daisy…

Chapter Thirteen

“Daisy, look at me.” He cupped her chin gently in one hand and lifted her head.

She would never admit it out loud, but from the moment she had met this man, she had always been a little afraid of staring deep into his eyes. She directed her gaze to the spot between his eyebrows. Why was she so shy with him now when she had practically thrown herself into his arms and begged him to take her just hours ago? She could never think straight when she was with him. And she certainly didn’t know how to feel about him. She looked at the spot between his neck and shoulder. God, all she wanted to do now was rest her head there, wrap her arms around him, and never let go. It wouldn’t solve anything—it was the worst idea in the world to get involved with him, but it would go a long way in making her feel a hell of a lot better.

She pressed her arm tighter against her breasts as a gust of wind blew through her hair, raising goosebumps all over her skin. She had never felt more vulnerable than she had at this moment. How many times had she ever found herself naked and kneeling in the mud in front of the guy she drooled over? Okay, twice or three times before, but college was different. And it involved a lot more alcohol. “What are you doing here?”

Christian reached behind a rock and pulled out a bathrobe which he extended to her. “I followed you.”

“Why?”

“It is my duty to watch over you.”

Daisy smiled ruefully. “Is that all it is? A duty?”

“You know it isn’t.”

Daisy gratefully accepted the terrycloth robe and shrugged into it, pulling the two panels over the front of her body and securing the belt over her stomach. She touched the knot she had made and frowned. After a moment, she looped one end of the belt over the other and made another knot. She as considering making another when Christian placed a hand on her wrist to stop her. She looked up and met his gaze. In the moonlight, his eyes were no longer green, but silver. On an inhale, her breath got caught in her throat. He was inhuman in his ethereal beauty, like an angel. Not one of those cute cherubic things, of course, but the warrior type with the golden breastplate and flaming sword over his head ready to smite down the infidel.

“What do you want from me?” The voice that came out of her mouth surprised her. It sounded more like Kathleen Turner’s after a cigarette and a shot of whiskey than her own.

Christian’s fingers circled her wrist and tugged until she released her hold on the belt of her robe. His free hand swept up her arm over her shoulder and cradled the nape of her neck. His thumb brushed the tip of her ear, making her shiver. He brought her wrist to his lips and softly kissed it before letting it go, his eyes never leaving hers. Lowering his head, he touched his nose to her jugular and inhaled deeply as though breathing in a glass of vintage wine. For a moment, Daisy didn’t think he was going to answer. He continued to trace the area between her ear and shoulder with his lips. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there and gasped as he sucked a bit of flesh into his mouth and bit. She raised her shaking hands and placed them on his chest. His heart, strong and steady, throbbed against her palm. Their eyes met. Whether she meant to push him away or draw him closer she no longer knew because as both of his hands slid down her spine and cupped her buttocks, any thought that resembled resistance faded from her mind.

“I don’t know,” he said after what seemed like forever. He touched his forehead to hers and sighed. His soft, dry lips brushed her eyelids, her nose, then her mouth. “But I know that I can’t fight… whatever the hell this is anymore. Every second you’re near me and I can’t touch you, a tiny part of me dies. I’m supposed to protect you, to guard over you until your brother chooses a mate for you… but how can I do that when I want you for myself? Tell me how I’m supposed to let you go.”

Daisy couldn’t think of an appropriate response. Every thought that came to her sounded too childish or insipid to say out loud. Nothing seemed to do it. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? The man had just admitted something that he seemed to have wrenched from the depths of his soul and all she could think to say was, “Me, too!”? God, she had never been good with words. All she wanted to do was to lick every muscled inch of him, to feel that sun-bronzed, granite-hard body under and over her, and when neither of them could stand it anymore, to take him so deep inside of her that no one would be able to tell where one ended and the other began.

She was saved from having to answer when Christian suddenly kissed her. He tasted like mint and grass and something headier that made her head swim. She plunged her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, parting her lips to invite him inside. He groaned as his tongue touched hers, tightening his hold on her butt as he swept in and tasted her. Daisy was sure that if his arms had not been around her, she would have melted right into the ground. Never before had a kiss made her bones feel like jelly, made her feel like she was in a roller coaster without a lap bar and her arms flying over her head.

In her mind’s eye, she could see those silver snakes again, dancing over and around each other before joining to tangle and entwining themselves into a knot. She had seen them once when he kissed her the first time. What did it mean? Was his kiss making her hallucinate? That’s certainly something she had never experienced before she met him. But then again, she never imagined a kiss could feel like taking a fork and sticking it into a power socket… in a good way, oddly enough. It was an electric thing that made her skin tingle. She was sure the hair on her head was standing on end.

And yet while he thoroughly made love to her mouth in a way that made her toes curl and her ladyparts sizzle, he still had not moved his hands from her butt. Didn’t he realize that the seatbelt sign was officially off and he was now free to roam around the cabin? She wondered how he would react if she moved his hand to her breast. She had a crazy thought as his mouth left hers for a moment to nuzzle her throat and ears before returning to her lips again. Maybe he was a virgin and didn’t quite know what to do. Breathtakingly gorgeous as the guy was, she had no idea what made him tick. All she really knew about him was that he kissed like his life depended on it and made her ache to be touched and squeezed and caressed by him.

Oh, for the love of Pete, touch me! Inside her body, the leopard growled in agreement.

She allowed her hands to slide down from his neck to his chest. He froze as her thumbs flicked at his nipples and her fingers began to softly trace the contours of his muscled torso. God, he was just so hard all over. He was as toned and defined as the statues of Roman gods that she saw when she went to Italy for a semester in college. So goddamned perfect. As her hands descended toward his abdomen, she became very aware that while she was still wearing a robe, he was very much naked. In fact, she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her belly. She pulled her mouth from his and looked down. In the pale moonlight, she could see everything. And gulped.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “Lordy.”

His penis stood proudly from a nest of thick dark hair. It was long, almost as wide as her wrist, and angled toward his navel. He dropped his arms to the sides and watched silently as she reached for it, groaning softly as she made contact. It was hot to the touch. She looked up at him in time to see his eyes drifting shut and his head falling back. She encircled it with one hand and discovered that the tips of her thumb and index finger didn’t quite touch. He sucked in air through his teeth. She used her other hand to stroke the plum-shaped head and that did it. In a lightning quick move that not even her leopard reflexes could follow, she found herself on her back with her robe suddenly spread open and her breasts bared to the cold air and Christian’s ministrations.

Christian lowered his golden head and laved her nipple with his tongue, keeping his gaze leveled on her face as he did so. He captured the other with his fingers, alternately rolling and pinching until it peaked to a nub. Daisy bit her lower lip to keep herself from screaming out loud as he drew her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth and suckled. She hardly noticed the sharp rocks and sticks digging into her back. She could only bury her hands in Christian’s hair as he continued his sensual assault on her body, taking his time to discover areas that were particularly sensitive. Daisy never even knew that the undersides of her breasts were so ticklish. And still he kept going until Daisy was moaning and begging and shivering though not from the cold.

“Chris, please…”

His voice was pure gravel when he said, “But I haven’t even begun.” And proceeded to plant feather-soft kisses from the base of her neck to her belly button, occasionally nipping lightly, swirling the tip of his tongue into her navel before starting back up again. His hands kept her hips in place even as she squirmed and bucked in an effort to land him exactly where she needed him.

And then she couldn’t stand it anymore. With a growl, she grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over her head so that he landed with a thud on the ground and an “oof!”. It was easy enough afterward to raise her hips and boost herself up into a handstand. Once she was turned around so that she was facing him, she landed so that her feet were on either side of him, then knelt so that his abdomen was trapped between her thighs.

His white teeth flashed in the moonlight as he grinned up at her. She only had a moment to enjoy his smile before her head was pulled down and her mouth was once again mashed against his. Christian took that opportunity to reverse their positions, cushioning her fall with his arms. He propped himself up on his elbows over Daisy’s head so that she was looking directly at him.

“You are mine now,” he whispered.

Daisy gasped as he grabbed her thighs and firmly pulled them open. There was one moment seemingly frozen in time and space when the two of them could only stare at each other. Daisy could feel her own heart thudding in her throat, could see the vein in Christian’s neck throbbing in response. She touched his face. With a smile, he bent his head and captured her mouth with his own once more. Daisy broke off the kiss and bit into Christian’s shoulder as he slowly began to ease himself into her body. The white-hot invasion that bordered on pain was enough to rob Daisy of her breath. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed within her, whispering words that sounded like French in her ear.

He braced himself above her with his elbows and peered at her face. “All right?”

“Yes.” She tilted her hips upward in order to accommodate him better. God, it was such a tight fit. She coaxed her lips into a smile in an attempt to hide her discomfort. “I’m good.”

“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he said huskily.

Daisy did as she was told, planting her feet on his rock-hard butt as he slid his hands under her and lifted her hips. And then he began to move. Gently at first, then harder as Daisy felt herself getting slicker around him. She could only hold on for dear life as he began to thrust earnestly into her, burying her nails into the flesh of his back. And then suddenly, she was in the air as he twisted around so that she was on top of him.

“Ride me.”

After that, it didn’t take her long to come at all. The crescendoing, tingling feeling that swept over her body like liquid silk started in her toes, slid up her legs, swirled like a tiny tornado in her middle, and escaped out of her mouth in a scream of pure pleasure. She tossed her head back as her orgasm continued to build and build. And build. She rode crest after crest as Christian buckled under her, grabbed her hips, and thrust into her one last time as he too reached his peak.

Light-headed and a little more than giddy, Daisy started to fall forward but was immediately caught by Christian who was pushing himself up into a sitting position. She sighed, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around her and he brushed her ear with his lips. With Daisy’s legs still wrapped around his hips, Christian boosted himself up on his hands and easily crab-walked the both of them to a spot a few feet away, which was next to a giant rock. As Christian leaned back against the rock, Daisy sagged against his chest and allowed herself a moment of rest with his heart beating in her ear. She didn’t know how long they stayed that way, but at one point Christian must have found the robe and covered her with it.

“Hey.”

She opened her eyes and lifted her head. Had she fallen asleep butt-naked in the middle of a field where anyone could have found her draped across the body of her lover like a Snuggie? She swiped her hand across her mouth in search of a tell-tale sign of drool and was relieved when she didn’t find any. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and was mortified to find Christian watching her with a small smile on his handsome face. Jesus, she was still sitting on him. And he was still tucked deep inside her. And getting hard again.

She bit her lip and fought the urge to grind against him, which felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. When he reached up to kiss her, she turned her face away.

Okay, she was so not up for a second frolic on the grass. It was just not a good idea. Rounds two, three, and four should happen on a bed somewhere. Preferably far, far away from Alec’s reach. Thinking about her brother, sanity returned in full force. Yeah, Alec was going to kill her for sure. Sleeping with the bodyguard was definitely not on her brother’s list of Things Daisy Should Do To Get Back In My Good Graces.

“Umm…” Grateful for the bathrobe hanging from her shoulder, she ducked her head and busied herself with putting it on. She should probably stand up. Christian wasn’t comfortable to sit on. The man was made of granite and concrete. “We should probably get going. I smell rain. It’s monstrous on my hair. You wouldn’t want to see it. It grows like the Hulk on steroids when the air is all muggy like this.”

“Daisy, stop. Don’t do this.”

Bracing one hand on the rock behind him, she pushed herself up, wincing at the sharp little aches in her knees and lower back as she stood. She was way too old for frolicking in a meadow with a man who could probably bench-press a luxury sedan. She paused in the act of twisting her heavy hair into a bun with her free hand and looked down where he was still sitting. “Do what?”

But she knew exactly what she was doing. She had accused him once or twice of mentally distancing himself from anything that resembled emotions and yet here she was, getting ready to push him away. She shoved both of her hands in her hair and turned away from him. In front of her were acres and acres of preserve owned by the Sawyer family. There were trees and grass and other night creatures like herself. Suddenly, she had the urge to beat feet and see how fast she could run.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as a pair of arms slid around her waist from behind. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and tried to kill the temptation of melting into him and allowing him to carry her away. If she really possessed any X-Men type of skill, she sure could use it now. Alone, there was no way she would have the self-control to walk away.

“We did nothing wrong,” he said, stroking her hair.

With a shriek of frustration, she stomped on his foot, jabbed her elbows into his stomach, and used a Judo trick a friend once taught her to twist out of his embrace. One thing she had learned about him was that he was very good at schooling his features so that they hid what he was really feeling and yet there he was, staring at her looking surprised and hurt.

“What, just because we had sex you think that gives you the right to tell me what to do or how to feel?” It was straight out of the crazy bitch’s playbook and one of her favorites. Nothing made a guy want to bolt faster than a nutty dame accusing him of things that didn’t make a lick of sense. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He dragged one hand over his face. “Daisy, I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now. Let me take you back to the house, all right? You’ve had a hell of a night. First, there was that leopard that almost killed you and then you and I–”

Daisy froze. “Wait, what?” Her memory was total shit during her leopard mode. As soon as she transformed back into human form, everything she had heard or seen as a leopard usually faded into nothingness like a fleeting dream. She would not have remembered a fellow leopard trying to kill her.

“It was nothing. I managed to drive him away before he could do any real damage. It was probably some overly excited kitten who got carried away with playtime. I’ll speak to Alec about it.”

The dangerous glint in his eyes and the sound of his jaws grinding together told Daisy he was lying. This was the same guy who was suspicious of any critter or bug that dared approach her. Why would he casually dismiss a supposedly life-threatening incident? She propped her hands on her hips and watched as he pulled a bag from behind the rock, brought out some items of clothing, and began to get dressed. Soon enough, he was standing before her in a pair of a black jeans and a t-shirt that was blindingly white in the moonlight. “Oh, for God’s sake, someone just tried to kill me. Is it more important for you to gussy up than help me figure out which one of my brother’s people attempted to murder me?”

“You can’t play Sherlock Holmes when you’re too busy fighting off pneumonia.” He reached into the bag again, pulled out more clothes, and tossed them at her. “Put on some pants.”

She glared at him and considered throwing them back at him, but thought better of it. Angry or not, her butt was starting to freeze. She slipped on the drawstring sweats and pulled the robe over them. How was it possible that she was writhing with pleasure under this man just moments ago? “Well, did you see who it was?”

Christian gave her a blank look.

“Oh, what, all leopards look alike to you, is that it?” She knew how ridiculous she sounded, but found herself unable to stop. Sometimes she truly believed she had more issues than a year’s subscription of Psychology Today.

“Shut up, Daisy.” He sighed and shook his head. “Come on, let’s get you back in the house. It’s not safe for you to be out in the open like this.”

“Says the man who ravished and took advantage of my weakened state. Out in the open. For hours.” She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“I did not—” He shoved one hand through his hair and gritted his teeth again.

“Admit it, Lebeau, you risked my life for the opportunity to fuck me.” The words spilled out before she realized what they meant. Christian’s stricken look was like a blow to her stomach. She opened her mouth to apologize, but didn’t know how to start.

“Think what you want.” He shouldered the bag and grabbed her hand. “But we’re going back to the house even if I have to carry you on my back.”

As they walked back toward the Sawyer estate, Daisy avoided looking at Christian. She played back the last ten minutes in her head and her face burned with shame. The man could be the most arrogant, most infuriating prick she had ever met, but the one thing he had never failed to do was protect her. What the hell kind of a psycho was she when she could lash out and hurt the one guy who could make love to her with equal parts tenderness and searing passion?

She chanced a glance at him and found that he had gone back to his super-alert bodyguard mode. He held her hand in a death-grip and seemed to be scanning the immediate area for anything that might jump out of the bushes and attack them. She wanted to make a joke, to cajole him out of his scary-grim mood, but her sense of humor seemed to have abandoned her for the evening.

“Wait.” Christian shoved her behind him and stopped.

She gripped the back of his shirt and looked around. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” His hand disappeared into the bag again and when it came out, it was holding a gun.

Daisy gaped. “Um… that’s a gun.”

“It sure is.”

Daisy took a step back away from him. “Can you put it away? I’m not a big fan.”

“Daisy…” Still he clicked on the safety and tucked it into the back of his pants.

“Hey.” She gave him a slight shove. “What’s going on? You look… Oh, God, what is that?”

The breeze that swept over their faces brought with it a coppery smell that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Daisy had never been very squeamish, but there was something about the smell that was worse than blood. It was the stink of fear.

“The stomach must have been perforated,” Christian muttered. “That’s what we’re smelling.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at something that Daisy couldn’t see. “Wait here.”

Daisy grabbed Christian’s arm. “No, you can’t leave me here. I’m going with you.”

“Goddamn it.” Christian shook his head. “All right, but stay behind me. You do not move, speak, or take a breath unless I specifically order you to do so.”

Daisy would have argued, but she was suddenly too afraid to do so. Not of Christian, but whatever it was that lay ahead, just waiting to be discovered. She nodded and followed him, keeping her hand in his. They had only taken a few steps when a wave of dizziness overtook her, making her sway on her feet.

Christian stopped and looked at her. “Hey, are you all right?” He gave her a slight shake. “Daisy?”

“It’s Julie,” she said in a faint, high-pitched voice she herself didn’t recognize. And then the ground was rushing toward her face and she knew nothing more.

To be continued…

Dionne Galace lives in Newport Beach, California, just a few minutes away from the beach. She enjoys body-surfing, swimming, hiking, and trolling around comic book stores. She is a huge fan of The X-Files and lives in hope that she will see Mulder and Scully get married… in any shape or form. She is not a fan of hulabaloos or tomfooleries, but is quite fond of shenanigans. She is always working on something, but can never quite finish it. Yes, this is a known issue.

Stealing is not cool. Ask Jane from Dear Author, if you don’t believe me. Props to April Martinez for the fabulous cover. She is one talented, gorgeous babe. Join me in giving her a terrorist fist jab over these internets.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted one of these and that doesn’t mean that I’ve quit objectifying pretty boys like the beautiful wicked slabs of beef they are, but I haven’t come across one worthy of a post until recently. It wasn’t until the fifteenth time that I watched Star Trek: Muppet Babies that it occurred to me, “Hot diggity, that Kirk guy is a panty-dropper!”

Oh, Chris Pine, be my husband and the father of my children. Or… have a one-night stand with me and sneak out at four in the morning and never call me again and delete me from your facebook and say things like, “If you don’t stop hanging out at my front yard everyday waiting for me to come out, I’m going to call the cops!” and change your number five times, I don’t care. Either will be fine. Just… call me, ok?

(hey, pssst… there you are with the crotch grabbing again. If it’s so damned heavy, why don’t you take a load off and let me carry it for a while?)

(and looking oddly enough like HRG. Oh, I think my pants just exploded in starbursts of happiness)

Spoilers and stuff below, btw.

The set-up: The London Season is winding down and Poppy Hathaway is in love with Michael Bayning, the handsome son of a viscount. Michael returns the sentiment and would love to marry her, but is a bit of a ponce and afraid his father wouldn’t accept Poppy who, while the sister of a viscount and whose family has plenty of money, just doesn’t fit the mold of a future viscountess, at least according to Michael’s father’s strict standards. Michael asks Poppy in a letter to wait patiently for him while he tries to convinces his father that Poppy would make a wonderful wife for him. Poppy agrees even though her family thinks Michael should be courting Poppy publicly and proclaiming to one and all that he is in love with her. Meanwhile, Poppy is doing her waiting game at the Rutledge Hotel, a swanky place where folks who don’t have a mansion in London stay and live during the Season. One day, while Poppy is chasing the family badger (yes, a badger. Yes, that is indeed a symptom that the Hathaways are a wacky, but loving family) who had somehow absconded with the love letter from Michael, she literally bumps into Jay Harry Rutledge, the mysterious hunk-a-hunk-a-weirdo who owns the hotel, and gets a Vulcan neck pinch along with her windpipe almost crushed for her trouble. Instead of shrieking and running far far away, Poppy’s curiosity gets the better of her and she stays to have tea with Rutledge even after the choke-hold incident. Really. She thinks he’s strange, but interesting. He takes one look at her and decides he wants to keep her in his breast pocket forever and occasionally feed her M&Ms. Or skin her alive and make himself a fancy new Poppy scarf.

Harry Rutledge grew up in a hotel in New York with a neglectful, sorry bastard of a father who locked him up in his room without food and forgot to let him out for days at a time. His bad, bad mommy deserted them and ran away when Harry was a little boy and since the sight of Harry reminded bad, bad daddy of bad, bad mommy, he did what every bad daddy in romance novels tend to do: taught Harry that love is a waste of time and energy. Why not instead build a super-intricate, super-convoluted defense mechanism that would take a psychotherapist years to unravel? Hooray. Harry’s emo party-line is this: he doesn’t need to be loved and no one’s ever loved him, so who cares. He has no friends, no family, and only a string of mistresses dumped over the years with a note and jewelry delivered by his valet. He has achieved everything he has ever wanted without ever needing anyone. He is ruthless, mercenary, and cold. And forgive the expression, but a little bug-fuck crazy.

What does he do in the book that offends me so greatly, you ask? In the beginning of the book, Poppy loses a love letter due to a badger that enjoys taking stuff and hiding it. It just so happens that Harry comes across the letter, which he soon discovers to be from a rival for Poppy’s affections. Bayning’s courtship of Poppy is a secret for a reason—he is afraid his father would disapprove of Poppy and cut him off. Harry figures he could break up Poppy and her boyfriend by giving the love letter to Bayning’s father. How cold is that?! When Poppy becomes distraught and heartbroken, Harry swoops in and deliberately gets caught making out with her so that she would have no choice but to marry him or face social ruin. What a guy, right? Just before the wedding ceremony, Bayning party-crashes and tells Poppy what Harry did and Harry just says, “Look, pal, if you want her, you’re going to have to pry her from my cold dead hands and I’d like to see you try. I just want her a little more than you do, punk.” Harry even tells Poppy she is welcome to run away with Bayning if she wishes, implying he would make their lives very, very miserable if she does, so that there is no logical recourse for Poppy but to marry him. Poppy, of course, goes along with it because she figures Bayning would eventually resent her if she ran away with him and his father ended up cutting him off, so she really has no choice but to marry Harry. I would almost say that the dude is about as cold as a Harlequin romance hero from the 80s—he gives her a couple of punishing kisses and when she makes the mistake of mentioning her ex-boyfriend on their wedding night, he resolves to give her super-intense oral sex just so there’s no doubt that she would be thinking of no one but Harry.

And that brings me to another aspect of the story that I didn’t quite enjoy: Poppy warms up to Harry a little too quickly for my taste. The guy deliberately tricks and manipulates her at every turn for the better half of the novel and she suddenly decides that he is just a misunderstood little boy who needs her love. Kleypas makes it a little too easy for her, of course. The hotel is staffed with people brimming with stories of what a good, fair boss Harry is and how he has never really known affection and care. The matchmaking staff even creates situations where Harry and Poppy are forced to spend time together and thus get to know each other. Poppy’s family, on the other hand, tell her that there really isn’t a clean, happy solution to her sham of a marriage, so there’s really nothing else for her to do but to grin and bear it. AND both of her older sisters are in sickeningly happy marriages, which makes matters worse because Poppy would probably feel like an utter failure of a woman if hers didn’t work out. So why wouldn’t Poppy stay with Harry? She may be book-smart and intelligent in her own way, but really she is just a naïve, country-bred girl separated from her family for the first time in her life. How could she possibly be a match for a cunning, manipulative man like Harry? Especially with everyone at the hotel telling her how awesome he TRULY is.

There is one scene in this book that I really enjoyed and it really saved the entire story for me. Poppy, upon noticing that Harry looks like he’s about to pass out from hunger and lack of sleep, sits him down and pushes him to eat. While he’s eating, Poppy picks up the book she has been reading and reads out loud for him until he falls asleep. I thought this was a clever scene because it shows that Poppy has her own ways of handling Harry, too. Once Harry begins to lower his guard and allow Poppy to get closer to him, the story really vastly improved for me. Harry, as a reformed rake and a besotted lover—and not so much a crazy stalker psycho—is really a joy to read about. It almost makes me want to believe that he was just a lonely, misunderstood man all along and all he really needed was a woman to love him and care for him no matter what. I said ALMOST! I’m sorry, but I can’t quite forgive him for the crap he pulls on Poppy through the first half of the book. THAT WAS SOME MESSED UP STUFF! Sure, the ex-boyfriend turned out to be a total tool and Poppy deserved way better, but still! He deliberately broke them up and that was cold! To Harry’s credit, he DID tell Poppy that he was the villain of the novel.

Anyway, Tempt Me at Twilight is still vintage Kleypas and thus compulsively readable and I still enjoyed it even though there were moments when I wished I could have reached into the pages and cheerfully strangled the hero. Oh, and before I forget, there was another thing that made me go Oh gimme a break! The blurb mentions an enemy popping up to threaten the fragile bond between Poppy and Harry, so throughout the book I have to admit that I was suspicious of everyone’s motives, wondering if it was some cuckolded husband who wants REVENGE or a long-lost brother who only wants what’s rightfully mine, goddamn it! But the actual villain doesn’t actually appear until, literally, the last few pages and when he did pop up, I actually had to go back to the beginning and re-read that bit so I could remember who he was.

There’s some effective sequel-baiting here and I really can’t wait to read about the developing romance between Poppy’s companion (who has a deep, dark secret of her own) and her gambling, wenching rake of a brother. God, I really hope that it’s Ms. Marks who ends up with Leo in the next book (because I was really praying Cam Rohan would end up with Daisy in his own book and Kleypas paired him up with someone else. Boo!) because the two of them have interesting chemistry and I have to admit that the two of them really stole each scene they were in together.

Tempt Me at Twilight has great pacing (it’s a very quick read!), witty dialogue, and sizzling sex scenes, but not a perfect book. Because of Harry’s shenanigans in the beginning of the story, my final verdict is: aiiiiight. If I had to FUCK, KILL, OR MARRY Harry, I would say… fuck. He’s got the whole mad-inventor, rich industrialist Batman/Bruce Wayne thing going on and I dig that, but I don’t know if I’d want to marry the guy. Oh, and after the sex, I’d probably have to change my phone number and move out of the country, too. ‘Cause he’s crazy. But then he’d probably find me pretty quickly. So I don’t know. Hmm. I’ll have to think about it some more.

(Oh, btw, I bought this book. With my own money. From Amazon)

Daaaamn. I might have to borrow Doc Brown’s Delorean so I could get ahold of one of these beauties. A hui hou!

Ben Houston has always been a man’s man. He enjoys ice skating as much as the next guy, washes down his arugula and fennel salad with a pale ale after a hard day’s work, and absolutely adores the sensation of the sun kissing his golden tan skin while soaping up his Miata in his favorite macraméd jean shorts. So what if he would rather spend the day tending his prize-winning white orchids than go out with the cougar across the street who has been greedily eyeing him like he’s on the clearance table at Sephora? So what if the neighbors call him “swishy” and stick rainbow stickers all over his garage door while he’s at work? He knows what he likes and is sticking to it. He’s nobody’s princess!

No matter what the cost, she will have him…

Having grown up with brothers and the owner of a demolition company, Maya Rains is extremely familiar with all things male. But underneath the grimy hard hat, well-worn flannel, and dirty coveralls, she is all female… a female with needs… And the one man who could fill the gaping hole in her soul doesn’t even know she’s alive. From the moment she laid eyes on Ben Houston in his impeccable charcoal suit and kicky pink paisley tie, she knew she had to have him. Sure, her brothers snicker and call him “Princess Buttercup” behind his back, but Maya will not be deterred. She is sick of the sweaty, sleepless nights, and tossing and turning in her bed while thinking of Buttercup Ben’s cool blue eyes and neatly trimmed beard. Surely, he can hear the throbbing of her loins, pulsing like Taiko drums on a hot summer night. Her flower needs tending and the only gardener she needs is Ben…

Mitch stands forlornly, staring at the swinging door. He squeezes the double-sided dildo he is holding in his hand. I really thought she was the one…