Friday, April 25, 2014

Review: "D" Is for Deadbeat by Sue Grafton

D Is For Deadbeat (Kinsey Millhone, #4)
“D” Is for Deadbeat
Sue Grafton
Series: Kinsey Millhone Mysteries (Book 4)
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin
Source: Library

The client came to Kinsey Millhone with an easy job--just deliver $25,000 to a fifteen-year-old kid. A little odd, and a little too easy, but Kinsey took Alvin Limardo's retainer check anyway. It turned out to be as phony as he was. In real life, his name was John Daggett, a chronic drunk with a record as long as your arm and a reputation for sleazy deals. But he wasn't just a deadbeat. By the time Kinsey caught up with him, he was a dead body--with a whole host of people who were delighted to hear the news. But how do you make a stiff pay up what he owes you?


I have been curious about this series for a long time.  I even picked up a copy of one of the books in a $1 bin at a used bookstore, but didn't get around to reading it yet.  I was at the library earlier in the week and saw they had "D" is for Deadbeat, and since I was in the mood for something a little fluffy (after reading the description of the book, it seemed like it could be very Stephanie Plum-like), I checked it out.  It only took a few days to complete all 6 discs--I did a little more driving than usual this week, which helped.
I wasn't at all disappointed.  Grafton crafted a story that took precious little brain power to keep up with (I'm very thankful for that! It was one of those kind of weeks) yet was entertaining and well thought-out at the same time.  There wasn't much to Kinney Milhone, but I didn't expect there would be.  After all, this series is long.  Series like these typically have character-development over the course of all the books.
I didn't see the ending coming, and that's surprising, because I thought I had figured it out.  I mean, honestly, I never figure "it" out, but I thought I had!  
It's like a flashback to a different era, too.  "D" is for Deadbeat was originally released in 1987--I turned 6 that year.  It was fun, traveling back to a time where typewriters were all the rage and answering machines were a requirement at any home or office.
This is pretty much what I expected it to be, and exactly what I needed.
4 Moons

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Being a Giver #WBN2014

I had an amazing day at Lakeside Middle School yesterday for World Book Night! I got to hang out with 20 awesome middle school students to talk books, and reading. One book in particular that we discussed and I got to give was…

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #1) 

After talking about and showing the trailer for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children they where all excited to get a copy for themselves.

I had an amazing helper for the day that helped me hand out the books and a few sweet treats.

My youngest monster.

This is all the kids after receiving their books.

I’m there in the middle:)

I am going back in three weeks to talk about the book and have a pizza party with all those that read it. I LOVE doing World Book Night, and hope to continue being a giver every year.

If you think this is something you would like to do you can find more info here.

Happy reading and Book Giving y’all,

Monday, April 14, 2014

Cover Reveal & #Giveaway: To Love a King by Shona Husk

To Love A King Cover Reveal Banner 450 x 169

Let me know what you think of the cover and the excerpt when you get to the bottom! Don’t forget to enter the giveaway too.


To Love a King
Annwyn  Book 3
Shona Husk
Genre: paranormal romance

Date of Publication: 7 October 2014
ISBN: 9781402280221
Number of pages: 352

To keep the balance between good and evil at the court of Annwyn, Prince Felan ap Gwyn has two weeks to marry and take the crown. But he wants more than just power—he wants love; a love he once had but was too stubborn to hold on to.
It took years for Jacqueline Ara to put her life back together after Felan abandoned her. And she doesn't want fairies back in her life—even if her heart still burns for him. With war in Annwyn looming and death bleeding into the mortal world, Felan and Jacquie will need to heal old wounds for one last gamble. It's all or nothing to save both worlds.


“We could start over.” There was that smile, the one that could derail all of her good intentions, the one that warmed her blood like she was standing in the sun and basking in its heat.
She knew if she lingered too long she’d get burned. “To what end? We both know it will end badly again.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “If I do what you want. If I go to Annwyn and give up everything I want. Is that about right?”
He clenched his jaw and looked away. She doubted he was watching the sunlight on the waves.
“You would be asking me to give up my whole life.” The very thing she’d once thought he’d do for her. It seemed neither of them was able to make a compromise. “You could have any woman you wanted. I’m sure many would like to be Queen of Annwyn.”
He looked back at her. “But I don’t love them.”
Her heart did an erratic dance, and spun. Her lips curved and the words to reply automatically formed on her tongue. When she met his gaze, the words froze. In his pale green eyes, she saw so many shadows. Love shouldn’t be followed by so much darkness. It should make you happy, not afraid. When she’d been around him, she’d always felt safe and loved and happy. Even now, she was tempted to give him another chance—right up until she remembered he was fairy and wanted her to go to Annwyn. Even now, he wasn’t telling her everything.
“I can’t trust you.”
“I won’t take you back to Annwyn without your permission. No tricks or glamours. Can you at least think about giving us another try?”
“It’s not us that concerns me. It’s everything else.” She couldn’t imagine being surrounded by fairies all the time. If being in Annwyn didn’t make Felan happy, how was she supposed to like it? She was human, not fairy. And compared to them she would be dull and boring. A waitress couldn’t be Queen.
“I have twelve days, Jacqui. I’m running out of time.” For a moment, he looked tired and worn out, as if his long life was catching up with him.
“Why twelve days?”
“The magic is failing and damaging both worlds.”
“Right.” So he’d come to her to save the world—worlds. She could barely keep her life together. How did he expect her save the world and rule Annwyn?
“Read the paper, watch the news. Tell me what you think.” He stood. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“I’m not working tomorrow.” She glanced up at him. Should she have told him that?
“Then I’ll come to your house. Seven okay? Maybe we could go out somewhere.”
“Like a date?” He was asking her out on a date? When had they agreed to that? She hadn’t even agreed to see him tomorrow, and yet she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to see what he’d do, and she wanted to know more about Annwyn and what was happening. Would he tell her about his life in Annwyn, the parts he’d never shared?
“Only if you want it to be.” He walked around the table and placed a kiss on her cheek.
She turned and her lips brushed his. He smelled the way he always had, like summer and fresh grass, as if she could close her eyes and all her troubles would vanish on a sultry breeze. His lips were warm and tasted like coffee.
Half a second later, she realized what she’d done and pulled back. He gazed down at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her properly. She realized she wanted him to. The old lust reawakened, filling her belly with heat, and she was so tempted to fall back into his arms and pretend everything would work out fine.
He brushed a stray curl off her face, his fingers lingering for a moment. “Enjoy the cake.”

About the author

Three time ARRA finalist Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back.
With stories ranging from sensual to scorching, she writes paranormal, fantasy and sci-fi romance.
You can find out more at


Book 1 of the series The Outcast Prince.
1 copy, international shipping

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Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Waiting on Wednesday: Maplecroft by Cherie Priest

"Waiting On Wednesday” is a weekly event, hosted by Jill at “Breaking the Spine”, that spotlights upcoming releases that we're eagerly anticipating.

What I'm Waiting On?

Maplecroft (The Borden Dispatches #1)
Cherie Priest
Series: The Borden Dispatches #1
Paperback: 448 pages
Publisher: Roc Trade
Expected Release: September 2, 2014

Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks; and when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one....

The people of Fall River, Massachusetts, fear me. Perhaps rightfully so. I remain a suspect in the brutal deaths of my father and his second wife despite the verdict of innocence at my trial. With our inheritance, my sister, Emma, and I have taken up residence in Maplecroft, a mansion near the sea and far from gossip and scrutiny.

But it is not far enough from the affliction that possessed my parents. Their characters, their very souls, were consumed from within by something that left malevolent entities in their place. It originates from the ocean’s depths, plaguing the populace with tides of nightmares and madness.

This evil cannot hide from me. No matter what guise it assumes, I will be waiting for it. With an axe.

Why I HATE Waiting!

I don’t know that I can explain my great want for this book if you happen to not know who Lizzie Borden is…

Above is a picture of Lizzie at the age of 32. Lizzie was tried and acquitted for the axe murders of her parents. If you would like more info you can read her Wikipedia page.

I have been fascinated with Lizzie Borden since I first read about her as a teenage me. After reading the synopsis of Maplecroft I can’t wait to get my hands on this book so that I can start this horror series… In the day time… With the lights onWinking smile

Is Maplecroft on your to read list?
Can’t wait to see what books you are wanting this week?

Excerpt & #Giveaway Captured by Jane Atchley

Captured - PROMO BlitzBy Jane AtchleyFantasy Romance (Lite Paranormal)A Garrison Love Story Book 2Date Published: April 1, 201
War makes strange bedfellow.Shape shifter, Faelan Foley, goes to war determined to win equality in a society where women are possessions, but when she’s forced to shift and arrested as a spy, a soul-searing friendship with the enemy Field Marshal develops threatening her heart and her definition of equality.Aimery Duncan traded the privileged life of an island landholder for the anonymity of a cavalry officer. He never expects to find himself Field Marshal of the Allied Kingdom Army facing an invading enemy. Let alone meet his soul mate. Too bad, she is a shape-shifter and an enemy spy.Can Duncan do his duty, save Faelan from the hangman’s noose, and somehow convince her that love is stronger than war?


"Damn Nicholas. Who does he think he is?" Faelan shouldn’t have let Nicholas's possessiveness get to her, but it galled. It was the sort of thing she had sought to avoid by volunteering with the army. "Where does he find the nerve?"

Riding beside her on a stolen dun gelding, Quinn wisely held his tongue. Like big brothers everywhere he was a maddening tease, but in a quarrel he came down on Faelan’s side every time. Near the spot where they had encountered the blue-jacket scout, she reined in, slid out of the saddle, and rubbed her backside. Why did she always have to ride a mule?

"I know Nicholas is your friend, but I’m not marrying him no matter what anyone thinks. And I’ll tell you another thing; I’m not marrying anyone who thinks he can tell me how to live my life."

"I’ll be sure to relay your thoughts to Nicholas."

Faelan arched her brow. "When I need your help, I’ll ask for it." She glanced around. "Wasn’t there a cave around here somewhere?"

Quinn touched his chest. "Are you asking me for help?"

Faelan showed her teeth, a snarl not a smile.

Quinn laughed. "See the dark spot behind the thin stand of firs over there?"

Faelan nodded. "I’ll leave my clothes in the cave, and we can meet here until the enemy breaks camp." Handing Quinn her reins, she headed for the dark niche within the rocks.

"Wait." Quinn jumped down. "Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?"

Faelan gave a long-suffering sigh. "It will help our war effort."

"I don’t doubt it, but I wonder if it’s the war effort you’re so eager to help."

"I don’t see your meaning."

"I know your appetites, little sister, better than I know my own. You want to devour the pretty little field marshal."

"My wolf wants to devour him." She flashed a saucy grin. "I’d settle for a good licking."


"Qu-inn." Faelan matched his tone.

"Don’t get killed."

"I won’t. I promise. Come give me a hug. I have to find an enemy soldier with a weakness for dogs before nightfall. Please don’t worry Quinn. This will work, you’ll see. We’ll meet here in two nights."

Faelan padded down a pine needle carpeted deer trail in wolf form considering her brother’s words. She didn’t want to gobble up the field marshal. She wanted to roll over and show her belly. Given her mission, this dangerous desire annoyed the hell out of her. Pausing, she raised her nose, tested the air for scent and found what she sought, steel and horses, and death. Crouching low Faelan eased toward the source.

She could not believe her luck. Commanders kept to the safety of camp. At least they did in her army. But the field marshal and his demon crouched beside the scout’s body looking at—Oh great ancestor Quinn’s fur!

The demon rubbed the inky fur between his fingers. "Duncan, this fur’s not right."

Duncan. The field marshal’s name sizzled through Faelan’s bloodstream, found a home in her heart, and melted in. She shook herself. Oh, yes. This man was danger in a pretty wrapper. Moments later, the search party mounted and turned their fine horses toward their camp. The demon walked at Duncan’s stirrup leading his own mount burdened with the body of the blue-jacket scout. Mindful of Descendant tales and warnings of demon powers, Faelan followed the group at a respectful distance.

Faelan had seen this demon in the camp, tall, rapier thin, lean-muscled, a terrible beauty with spiky golden hair, tapered ears, and rich amber eyes. The tales said demons didn’t age, but this one’s mannerisms suggested youth. Obviously, Duncan’s creature, Faelan smelled his devotion like spice on the wind. Keeping downwind, hidden by trees, she strained her hearing in hopes of gleaning some useful information, but her enemy’s mood was somber. Frustrated, Faelan turned to her other senses.

The field marshal, the demon, two of the men, and the woman wore blue-jackets. Having never seen a female warrior before, the woman fascinated Faelan. Citizen militia made up the rest of their party. Faelan had seen their like before in the little villages her people raided before the field marshal brought his cavalry into the field. Each man wore his own regimentals, one a rich burgundy, one a dark green, the other a pale gray trimmed in dark blue.

The search party stopped near a clear slow moving creek, and the demon passed out meat pies. The rich aroma made Faelan’s stomach growl. She inched forward watching, listening, and was rewarded with the first chink in the field marshal’s army. The militiamen took their portions and moved apart from the blue-jackets. Abruptly, the demon raised his head, sniffed the air, and glanced toward her hiding place. Faelan melted back into the trees.

The field marshal walked slowly along the shallow stream moving away from his group. His magnificent horse, gray as a storm with scattering of black spots across its white rump, trailed behind dipping its elegant head to the stream now and again.

Faelan paced him.

Duncan squatted in the stream and let the cold water sluice over his hands. He reeked of regret. Would death on a large scale slow his relentless pursuit of her people? Could the Descendants even manage something like that in their current sorry state?

Faelan circled.

Upwind now, Duncan’s elegant spotted horse caught her scent. Its head lifted. The warhorse looked straight at her, nostrils flared. Faelan crouched even lower. Tail tucked tight against her belly, ears flat against her skull, she inched forward.

"Be very still, Aimery Duncan."

The demon’s voice came from Faelan’s right. Until he spoke, she had not seen, heard, or even smelled him, so intent had she been on the field marshal. The demon stood about twenty feet away with a short powerful looking bow aimed at her heart.

Duncan looked up and trapped Faelan in the full force of his remarkable eyes. For a minute she couldn’t move, melting in his burning sapphire gaze. A whimper slipped from her mouth. She dropped her rump lower and tucked her tail tighter against her belly. Her posture screamed I’m harmless.

The field marshal held his hand out palm up. "Come to me, Azure-eyes. I will not let the terrible elf shoot you." He shot his demon a determined look. "I have seen enough death today, Eamon." His gaze returned to her. "Come here, my beauty. There is nothing to fear."

Duncan’s voice flowed over her, warm as a summer day. It soothed her, compelled her. Faelan inched forward, aware the demon—elf had not relaxed the tension on his bow. Faelan’s nose grazed Duncan’s fingertips. His skin smelled of oranges and chocolate. Faelan gave in to desire. She rolled over and exposed her soft creamy belly to his touch.

He rubbed her thick fur and smiled. "You see, Eamon. She is just a big friendly dog. A real beauty too, I think."

He thought she was beautiful. The demon—the elf, Faelan corrected herself again, didn’t look convinced, but he lowered his bow.

"Where did it come from, Duncan?" The elf moved closer. "It looks like a wolf. Come away from it."

"This dog did not kill our trooper." Duncan pushed to his feet, wiping his hands on his thighs. "You worry too much."

"My Captain told me to look after you."

"Did he?" Duncan punched the elf’s shoulder in passing, as men do. "He said just the opposite to me."

Faelan stayed on her back, vulnerable. The elf troubled her. He knew there was something ‘not right’ about Quinn’s fur. He was suspicious of her and he had unknown powers.

"Look at her, Eamon," Duncan collected his horse’s reins. "How many white, blue-eyed wolves have you seen? She is a cross breed probably from one of the burned out farmsteads we passed left behind to die." He turned, patted his leg. "Come Azure. Come girl." Faelan rolled to her feet and trotted to his side.

"You’re not keeping it?"

"I could not save my scout today, but I can save this dog. I need to do this." He paused, caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Look at those eyes, blue as the sky on a clear day at sea. Can you think of a single reason I should not keep her?"

"Yes," Eamon nodded. "It’s a wolf."

Jane Atchley
Trapped in a world of user manuals, Jane Atchley dreamed of a life beyond technical writing. One night, over nachos and margaritas with “the great ladies,” a world of elves, pixies, and a certain red-haired cavalry captain beckoned. She and her two terriers have lived there ever since enjoying one adventure after another.
Jane is a member of Romance Writers of America and Dallas Area Romance Authors. She loves to hear from readers. Email Jane at jane@janeatchley.comJane gives away a $50 gift card every month. Visit her website to enter for a chance to win.
Authors LinksWebsite | Facebook | Twitter


1 grand prize of $100 Visa (Usa Only)

10-eBook Copies of Captured

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Monday, April 7, 2014

Fall From Grace by Ron C. Nieto


TTitle: Fall from Grace
Author: Ron C. Nieto
Genre: Urban Fantasy / Paranormal
Audience:  New Adult / Adult
Formats: E-book
Publisher: Ron C. Nieto
Cover By: Kris Wagner
Editor: EFC Services
Pages: 310
Expected Date of Publishing: Fall 2014
People believe the world will go out with a bang. People expect it to be crushed under ever-rising waves, to burn in an inferno of all-encompassing flame, to be torn asunder by the same forces that created it.
No one ever thought it would be as gentle as a door sliding open. No one suspected the beginning of the end would go unnoticed.
Yesterday, Lee led a normal life. Today he is alone, lost and unable to remember anything but the pain.
Henry remembers too much. He holds recollections of what was, what should have been, what will remain forever lost.
They both want to save the world.
Together, they might destroy it.

It’s ironic, how worried I am about falling to my death when it’ll find me one way or the other.

It’s also disturbing, this second-guessing that comes with cold, intangible fingers sliding down my spine and a taste of fear. I made my choice and I will go through with it.

I keep climbing, and the white-knuckled hold I have on the railing is the only show of weakness I allow myself. It takes us a few minutes to reach the relative safety of the concrete rooftop, and I put them to good use, schooling my features and body language to resemble a blank slate: an emotionless mask just like Edmund’s.

I certainly hope my efforts are successful enough to hide my astonishment when I see the crowd waiting for us.

Well. Go figure. Five years of preparation and Edmund didn’t think to mention the audience once in all that time. He told me this wouldn’t be a private affair and that six of his brethren would perform the ritual with him, but the couple dozen people milling about and having no apparent role whatsoever are a surprise. A rather unpleasant one, if I’m honest. They look like sharks, sleek and elegant in their suits. Their polite smiles will turn razor sharp the moment they catch a whiff of weakness. If I were any other person, I would take them for lawyers, CEOs or some other species of corporate predator, but I’m unfortunate enough to know better.

Sometimes I swear the only value of truth is to make a task more difficult. A meeting of high-ranking executives who hold age, experience and planning over my head I can handle. A gathering of curious, somewhat amused demons gets under my skin.


About the author
clip_image009Ron C. Nieto is a fantasy and romance author who has been writing in her secluded fortress for the longest time. Recently, she had a talk with her cat and decided that she should share her creations, because it was selfish to hoard them all for herself.
If you would like to know more about her, please visit her website.

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Friday, April 4, 2014

Excerpt and Giveaway: Orange Blossom by Sarah Daltry

Orange Blossom
By Sarah Daltry
New Adult Contemporary
Date Published: April 4, 2014

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“I’ve never understood a year. A year was always a measurement of something bad for me. A year in my father’s prison sentence, a year since my mom’s death, a year left of school before I could get far, far away from here. Now, as I look down the end of my college career, with only a little more than a semester to go, a year seems like something magical. It has been a year since Lily chose me, since she sat with me on the old swing set and made a decision that I was worthy of her. And every minute of the entire year has been better than the last.”

You already know their stories: Lily, the perfect princess, always living someone else’s life. And Jack, the broken boy, who had stopped believing in hope. Somehow, though, they found each other and what was one night blossomed into a love story.
Now, a year later, Jack and Lily are dreaming of the future. Despite all of his promises to himself that he would never be indebted to anyone, Jack makes a new promise – this time to Lily – that he will be there for her forever. But when life unravels for them, he starts to pull away, and Lily worries he’s out of reach for good.
When Jack does the unthinkable, Lily is left destroyed. Is it possible to have a happily ever after? Does love ever really save anyone?


He’s smiling. Not that smirk he gets when he’s bitter but also pleased about something. It’s not the smile that says that he knows happiness is temporary. When he lines up his Skee-ball shot, there is a smile on his face that is pure. Genuine. It’s like taking a step back and seeing Jack in a photograph. One from years before his life went crazy. He is just a dorky kid playing Skee-ball and he’s so happy when he nails the shot. He does an awkward little dance and it’s the kind of thing about Jack that makes me love him. He’s gorgeous and sexy and aggressive yet sweet. He’s kind and considerate of me, both sexually and in general. But I don’t love Jack for that. I love him because there is light in the world in the space he takes up. I know he doesn’t see it, but he’s inside himself. From the outside, all I see is the absolute electricity and fire that fills the air around him.

“That’s how it’s done,” he tells me when he finishes his game, wrapping up his ridiculous stack of tickets. I’m so going to lose, but I don’t care. He’s happy. I just almost wish I were better at this, so we could stay here longer, so that Jack could be this part of himself for as long as he needs.

“I think you’re perfect,” I say.

“Because I’m good at Skee-ball? Shit, that’s all it takes?”

I shake my head. “No, but you tell me all the time. I don’t think I ever say it to you. I don’t like the idea of perfection. It’s too much of a standard to live up to, but I don’t think you even understand. It’s cheesy and probably clichĂ©, but I just can’t imagine how I could breathe without you. How did I exist before this?”

He looks down, uncomfortable because it is one thing to tell Jack he’s hot or sexy; he can handle that and he gets arrogant and ridiculous when I tell him that. However, this part of him, this vulnerability, he buries it so deep that drawing attention to it makes him want to disappear. But I don’t want that. I want him to embrace it, because it’s beautiful.

“Don’t look down,” I say and I lift his face to look at me. His eyes explode with light, the way fireworks do on New Year’s when the sky is like ink and then it’s suddenly on fire. I lean in and kiss him, feeling his hands tighten on my arms and his lips opening against mine. He’s scared. I can feel it in the way he kisses me today; he feels himself falling and he is trying to hold on and I need to figure out how to be steady enough to hold him. “Trust me,” I plead. “Let me take some of what you’re feeling. I can handle it, Jack.”

He nods. “Another day. Today, I just want to stay here, to be here with you, where it’s safe and comfortable and my entire world is this. Where strawberries and popcorn and Skee-ball and shitty plastic toys are the entirety of what exists.” He pauses. “I promise, Lily. I will. Soon. But let me hide from it. Just for a little longer?”

“Okay, but don’t hide from me, okay?” I ask.

About the Author

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Sarah Daltry writes about the regular people who populate our lives. She’s written works in various genres – romance, erotica, fantasy, horror. Genre isn’t as important as telling a story about people and how their lives unfold. Sarah tends to focus on YA/NA characters but she’s been known to shake it up. Most of her stories are about relationships – romantic, familial, friendly – because love and empathy are the foundation of life. It doesn’t matter if the story is set in contemporary NY, historical Britain, or a fantasy world in the future – human beings are most interesting in the ways they interact with others. This is the principle behind all of Sarah’s stories.
Sarah has spent most of her life in school, from her BA and MA in English and writing to teaching both at the high school and college level. She also loves studying art history and really anything because learning is fun.
When Sarah isn’t writing, she tends to waste a lot of time checking Facebook for pictures of cats, shooting virtual zombies, and simply staring out the window.
The other titles in the Flowering series are Forget Me Not, Lily of the Valley, Blue Rose, and Star of Bethlehem. The final book, Ambrosia, will be out in June.
Sarah has also written Bitter Fruits, an urban fantasy romance, and Backward Compatible, a gamer geek romantic comedy.

Authors Links


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Thursday, April 3, 2014

Review: Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen

Bad Monkey
Bad Monkey
Carl Hiaasen
Hardcover: 336 pages
Publisher: Knopf
Release Date: June 11, 2013
Source: Library

Andrew Yancy—late of the Miami Police and soon-to-be-late of the Monroe County sheriff’s office—has a human arm in his freezer. There’s a logical (Hiaasenian) explanation for that, but not for how and why it parted from its shadowy owner. Yancy thinks the boating-accident/shark-luncheon explanation is full of holes, and if he can prove murder, the sheriff might rescue him from his grisly Health Inspector gig (it’s not called the roach patrol for nothing). But first—this being Hiaasen country—Yancy must negotiate an obstacle course of wildly unpredictable events with a crew of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including his just-ex lover, a hot-blooded fugitive from Kansas; the twitchy widow of the frozen arm; two avariciously optimistic real-estate speculators; the Bahamian voodoo witch known as the Dragon Queen, whose suitors are blinded unto death by her peculiar charms; Yancy’s new true love, a kinky coroner; and the eponymous bad monkey, who with hilarious aplomb earns his place among Carl Hiaasen’s greatest characters.

Here is Hiaasen doing what he does better than anyone else: spinning a tale at once fiercely pointed and wickedly funny in which the greedy, the corrupt, and the degraders of what’s left of pristine Florida—now, of the Bahamas as well—get their comeuppance in mordantly ingenious, diabolically entertaining fashion.


Bad Monkey is hilarious!  It's irreverent, off-the-wall, and entertaining!
I didn't know what to expect.  All I knew was I had looked at this audiobook every time I was in the library because the cover was so funny.  I'm glad I finally checked it out because it was such a good book.
Andrew Yancey is one of the most well-written, well-developed male characters I've read.  Hiassen did a fantastic job of making Yancey seem absurd and real and honest all at the same time.  I also love that Yancey isn't some perfect do-gooder--that his halo is a little tarnished and bent.  
There is a list of characters a mile long in this book.  So many that I would have a hard time recalling them all right now.  Each individual story was woven together into the main plot line.  I was impressed by Hiassen's storytelling. It was to the point with no fluff or filler.  
Bad Monkey was like a men's version of the Stephanie Plumb books, but without the foolishness and clumsiness of Plumb.  
I highly recommend anyone who is a fan of irreverent and somewhat absurd books, check this one out.
5 moons: This Bad Monkey is all good.