Posts Tagged ‘Precocious Kids’

Harlequin Presents: Heartbreaker by Charlotte Lamb

Heartbreaker Poor, poor Caroline Storr. For years, she suffered through a physically abusive marriage with an alcoholic, afraid to ask for help because she lived in a small town and the scandal would have killed her mother-in-law. But when Peter starts hitting her little girl, Kelly, Caroline decides she’s had enough and whisks herself and her daughter away to London. Cut to three years later and everything is coming up rosy. She had stumbled upon a copy-writing career and with the help of a small inheritance from her father, was even able to buy a house. She hadn’t heard from her drunkard swine of a husband since she’d left him and she and Kelly are doing just fine.

And then comes the asshole in the Porsche. Nick Holt, her husband’s cousin, was a painful reminder of her one emotional indiscretion—she was secretly crushing on him while she was married to Peter. Peter, of course, was a jealous, insecure psycho, and tended to “J’accuse!” Caroline of cheating on him with everyone from the mailman to the kindly town doctor. He also loved to cry his heart out to Cousin Nick and talk about what an amoral, selfish, cheating slut Caroline is. Nick, who was also secretly crushing on Caroline and felt very guilty about it, was at first unable to believe what his cousin has been telling him, but quickly changes his tune, when—say, on a lark—he makes a pass at Caroline by kissing her and she KISSES HIM RIGHT BACK, the dirty harlot! Peter was right! Ever the avenging-angel-slash-hypocritical-asshole, Nick takes it upon himself to hire a private detective to find Caroline, marches his self-righteous ass to her front door, and proceeds to tell her three things: 1) Peter is dead, 2) Peter’s mom is dying and wishes to see her granddaughter, 3) Caroline has been judged and found guilty of harlotry, and Nick himself will be her executioner. Oh, and could dirty, amoral whore Caroline and her little moppet uproot their lives, pack up everything, get into the goddamn Porsche, and go see Grandma before she croaks.
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Review: Tempestuous Reunion by Lynne Graham

I love vintage Mills and Boon, especially ones featuring a winsome, as-delicate-as-spun-sugar, wide-eyed ingenue being chased and seduced by a barely civilized, steely-eyed Neanderthal in a Saville Row suit in London… or Toronto. There’s just so much gooey, cheesy, melodramatic nonsense going on that you can almost bite into the crazy pie and come back for seconds and thirds without feeling like you just consumed something disgusting (okay, maybe a little disgusting… shouldn’t you be training for that full marathon?). In this lovely offering by Lynne Graham, we have: a secret baby, an Italian billionaire, amnesia, and a car accident reminiscent of Deborah Kerr’s in “An Affair to Remember.” The heroine is a fragile, pretty blond thing who is described as “innocent” one too many times and the hero is a majorly alpha, testosterone-heavy, chauvinistic He-Man who literally drags the heroine back to his castle like some liege lord claiming his lady. And yet… and yet… I ended up liking the hero. Sure, he basically kidnaps the heroine and keeps her with him under false pretenses, but in the end, he just seemed so helpless about expressing what he truly feels about her and utterly baffled as to why he should feel the way he does that it’s almost adorable. OMG, IKNORITE?! Let’s dive into the insanity together, ladies and ghouls, and explore this “Tempestuous Reunion.”

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Review: Their Newborn Gift by Nikki Logan

This was not a fun book to read for me. Have you ever read “My Sister’s Keeper” by Jodi Picoult, which was later made into a movie starring Abigail Breslin and Cameron Diaz? It’s the one where Cameron Diaz has a daughter who is dying and needs new organs, but there isn’t a donor match, so the doctors suggest that Cameron Diaz has another child so they can harvest the organs they need from that child. Whoa, right? Yeah, it’s like “Sophie’s Choice” without the Nazis. How would you like that for a tagline? “It’s like ‘Sophie’s Choice’ without the Nazis!” And yet the story was oddly compelling—never mind the heroine who, at times, seemed to be stubborn for the purpose of being a deliberately obtuse pain in the ass— and I devoured it in one sitting. And the whole “He doesn’t love me” and “She doesn’t love me” shenanigans went on a little too long, but the hero is a nice guy (albeit boring) who isn’t an alpha asshole with a testosterone overload problem for once and I liked the soft, quiet moments between the two leads. It’s a Marriage of Convenience and Miracle Baby story in one!

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Review: Sleepless in Seattle (Film)

Sleepless in SeattleI don’t know if it’s because I now fall under the descriptor “thirtysomething,” but lately I’ve been feeling maudlin and sentimental. Or maybe it’s the post-holidays blues or the I-don’t-have-money-or-a-job-and-my-car-is-dying-and-I’m-fifteen-pounds-overweight-and-I-live-with-my-parents-and-I-should-be-on-the-show-Hoarders blues. While I was unable to sleep some nights ago, I caught “While You Were Sleeping” on TBS or WGN or one of those channels and I felt compelled to watch it from beginning to end. By the time I got to the scene where Sandra Bullock was telling Bill Pullman’s family that all she really wanted was a family of her own and she was grateful to them because they treated her as family, I was a hysterical sobbing mess. And seriously, if I were making my living as a subway ticket booth operator and I am living in a crappy apartment where I am constantly stalked by my perverted landlord and my love interest is Bill Pullman, I would have pushed Peter Gallagher out of the way and got run over by the train myself. But what does that have to do with “Sleepless in Seattle,” you ask, other than they both have sleep in the title? Well, I was suffering from one of those sleepless nights again and trying to get myself sleepy by staring at the ceiling and humming “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning,” which is one of my favorite songs of all time. Somewhere in the middle of it, I got choked up and my eyes started to burn with tears and before I knew it, I was sobbing again. To distract myself from my own maudlin gloominess, I turned on the TV and guess what was on? Yep, “Sleepless in Seattle,” whose soundtrack “In the Wee Small Hours” happens to be a part of (other great songs in this soundtrack: “A Wink and a Smile” by Harry Connick Jr and “Stardust” by Nat King Cole, which never fails to make me cry a little bit).

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