<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598</id><updated>2011-08-19T01:51:36.767-07:00</updated><category term='Western'/><category term='We&apos;re Moving'/><category term='Historical Mystery'/><category term='Historical Fiction'/><category term='chit chat'/><title type='text'>The Book Blogger's Shelf of Shame</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-3501531079154858433</id><published>2010-05-12T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T06:44:07.247-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='We&apos;re Moving'/><title type='text'>The Shelf of Shame is MOVING!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/S-qvnZ6zpaI/AAAAAAAACBw/lhByEn1FC9Q/s1600/moving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/S-qvnZ6zpaI/AAAAAAAACBw/lhByEn1FC9Q/s320/moving.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, folks.&amp;nbsp; We're packing up all of our worldly belongings and making the move over to WordPress, where the grass is much greener, we hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's our new home:&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://shelfofshame.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;SHELF OF SHAME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click on over and update your feeds and links!&amp;nbsp; Hope you love the new digs as much as we do.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-3501531079154858433?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/3501531079154858433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/05/shelf-of-shame-is-moving.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3501531079154858433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3501531079154858433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/05/shelf-of-shame-is-moving.html' title='The Shelf of Shame is MOVING!'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/S-qvnZ6zpaI/AAAAAAAACBw/lhByEn1FC9Q/s72-c/moving.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-466918405464824025</id><published>2010-04-25T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T13:48:22.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Viking in Love by Sandra Hill</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513MTYSd2rL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 305px; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513MTYSd2rL.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heavens, where on earth do I start? I know it’s historical romance and don’t expect as much as I would from an historical novel, but still – this is beyond bad. I’ll try to make the synopsis short and sweet and spare you the details. I only picked this one up at the library as Harriet said something in her glowing review about a Viking S-trick and we had to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set in the 10C in Northumbria, the story begins as Vana the White (I am not kidding) and her merry band of Viking princesses are disposing of the pieces of the body of Vana’s abusive husband down the privy (I am not kidding). Fearing trial and hanging they flee for their lives and seek succor at the home of distant relative Caedmon of Larkspur. The Princesses find the place a disaster (Caedmon’s been off a-knighting with the King) and proceed to fix it up. Cleaning the walls, planting roses and repairing the roof (I am not kidding) and mothering Caedmon’s wild band of children from two previous marriages plus the odd illegitimate child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course you know when Caedmon returns home he’s going to set sights on one of the Princesses and it’s lust at first sight, right? It is a romance after all. This is where I’ll spare you the details but these two end up making a silly agreement to protect the others and she’ll sleep with him for ten nights (swive is Caedmon’s word for it). Thus proceeds lots and lots of sex in mind numbing quantities and in any position you can imagine. You do not want to know about the various places on a body wherein honey can be put on and then licked clean. Here’s a few choice quotes just so you can see how profound (not) the writing is,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;“Piers chose that moment to prove that he was all boy by aiming his little pizzle at Caedmon’s chest, soaking his clean tunic.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The red-headed princess witch of the north was up at the top of Larkspur’s roof, rounding at one of the slates.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She lifted his cock and stared at his ballocks, as if she had just enearthed some secret. ‘Eeew, it is hairy. Like peach fuzz.’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Slowly she felt him remove the finger and caress her back, spreading her wetness.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You are wet for me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She lifted his cock and stared at his ballocks, as if she had just enearthed some secret. ‘Eeew, it is hairy. Like peach fuzz.’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Slowly she felt him remove the finger and caress her back, spreading her wetness.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Canter or gallop m’lord?” &lt;/blockquote&gt;Hehe, and she’s not talking about riding horse there either. I think you get the picture. The sex scenes were excruciating and made me want to wash my head out with soap and water. Top all that off with this bizarre slap-stick type of modern humor and it just doesn’t cut it. I know there are readers who like nothing better than page after page of detailed sex acts in a prettified fake believe historical setting but for anyone else I suggest giving it a pass. I hear the author is known for her slap stick style of humor and she’s written some kind of Gone With the Wind take off. No, I am not going to do it. No way, no how. Not for anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I almost forgot to mention what the infamous Viking S trick is (thanks Daphne for reminding  me). After putting myself through that torture it was all for nothing. The hero learns of it and tells her that's what he's going to do and the story ends. We'll never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-466918405464824025?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/466918405464824025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/04/viking-in-love-by-sandra-hill.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/466918405464824025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/466918405464824025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/04/viking-in-love-by-sandra-hill.html' title='Viking in Love by Sandra Hill'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-6170617785323331932</id><published>2010-03-10T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T19:38:13.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart of a Warrior by Betty Davidson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1267242431l/2749217.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 172px; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1267242431l/2749217.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You swept into my life like a raging storm" and "Right now 'tis not our trust that I crave the most," she admitted."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sigh, where do I begin? Our dashing hero is David D'Aubere, Earl of Lynchburg, a landless Earl (is there such a thing?) and great warrior who has sworn fealty to Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou. Margaret is thrilled when David lops off the head of her sworn enemy, and rewards him with a great castle and marriage to an heiress, although the joke is on him when he finds his wife by proxy with the mental capacity of a child. He needs an heir to keep his new lands and just like magic a beauteous servant by the name of Riley crosses his path and he decides to impregnate her and pass the baby off as that of his wife. Are you rolling your eyes yet? Never fear there's more......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See it's like this - our beauteous servant is no servant at all, she's the daughter of the Yorkist Earl of Ewesbury and she and her older cousin crossed the English Channel all by themselves and managed to infiltrate the Lancastrian household as servants. No, I am not kidding - no men at arms or attendants to assist these Medieval Misses, no indeedy. Well, you know the H&amp;amp;H are going to fall madly in love, but with all the secrets between them the path to true love has a bump or two, including the newly crowned Edward IV attempting to seduce our heroine in his "love garden" (his words) and culminating in a grand tourney overseen by our heroine dressed only in her shift….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I am not kidding, although at least by the tourney she had finally found herself a headdress and covered all those runaway curls. I could go on, but I'm fairly certain you get the idea. If you're looking for a good story with some decent writing I suggest you look elsewhere. If you're looking for a wall-paper romance with no purpose other than constant sex this might do but honestly it was pretty dreadful as you can see for yourself,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;"He increased his pace until her moans filled the chamber. The glossy elixir of her body bathed his fingers, and he knew that she was fast approaching her peak.....As his fingers wiggled inside of her, her body began to shake with spasm after spasm of jolting pleasure.....her buttocks lifted, her hidden corridor sealing to his fingers, pulsing and brimming over with a hot lather." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Lowering his mouth to her, he kissed the pink rose of her sex......Her whole body melted into a mist as his tongue caressed the swollen kernel hidden within her womanhood. The heat of his breath, mingled with his searching tongue, left her keening with ecstasy."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Although I do give the author credit for not including any volcanos of honey :p&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Could this get any worse? Well yes it can, because there's a sequel set during the time of Richard III and the missing princes. Stay tuned.......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-6170617785323331932?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/6170617785323331932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/03/you-swept-into-my-life-like-raging.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6170617785323331932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6170617785323331932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/03/you-swept-into-my-life-like-raging.html' title='Heart of a Warrior by Betty Davidson'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-7321230552866128332</id><published>2010-02-28T13:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T13:55:21.139-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Queen's Lover: A Novel by Vanora Bennett</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51XOUH746QL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 500px; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51XOUH746QL._SS500_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/S4rjbLqYpfI/AAAAAAAAAB0/wEq30pIngNQ/s1600-h/Broyal.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time there was a beautiful young princess of France named Catherine who had a mad-as-a-hatter father and a scheming evil mother. The poor princess and her younger brother Charles were all but forgotten by their awful parents and wore rags for clothing and had to forage for food. One day members of the English King's court came to propose marriage to Catherine and in this company's service was a young Welshman named Owain Tudor. Owain and young Catherine became friends of a great scholar named Christine de Pizan (not quite sure how that came about but this is a fairy tale after all), and they were soon BFF - until they got older and then well........true love, of course.&lt;p&gt;Eventually the beautiful princess marries the English king to escape her awful parents and has a baby boy, but you know that fairytales don't last forever. The King dies (no spoilers, this is known history) and leaves Catherine and her young child at the mercy of the those awful English barons and men of the Church battling for ultimate power over the child king. Will Catherine have to marry some loathsome Earl or Baron or will she and Owain be able to find true love and happiness in the end? Will the English King's onion-breathed brother find a way to stop the path to true love? &lt;p&gt;Ahhhh, romance and fairy tales, wonderful aren't they? The Queen's Lover is a somewhat imaginative take on the life of Catherine de Valois, daughter of the oftentimes insane King Charles VI of France. Eventually married off for the sake of peace to Henry V of England and mother to Henry VI, the widowed Catherine eventually married Owain Tudor and thus are the beginnings of the Tudor Dynasty. &lt;p&gt;Sounds like a lot of good juicy history to make for a fascinating, page turning novel, but can Bennett make it interesting? Noooooo, she does not. Perhaps it was just me but I always felt like a ghostly presence whilst reading the book - kind of like an out of body experience. Worse yet, too much time is spent on Catherine's childhood - I swear the first 200 or so pages could have been cut back to 50 and not lost any of her story. Then I got to page 300 and felt it still all could have been cut down to 50 pages. By page 400....... still the same problem. Honestly I was more interested in her brief time as queen, let alone the circumstances that led up to her marriage to Owain and the consequences of said action, but nooooooo we didn't even get to that until the last 100 or so pages - and what an interesting twist to the fairytale that was. Not. &lt;p&gt;Add to that the most bizarre misuse of colons, semi-colons and commas that I have ever come across, stir in a very imaginative version of known history and top it all off some sleep-inducing prose (I am not kidding I kept this one on the nightstand for when I was too tired to care what my mind absorbed) and serve up cold at The Shelf of Shame. Thumbs down too on the author's notes at the end. I prefer an author not to be footloose with history (egad that scene with Henry in the tent - WTF was the author thinking?), but if you're going to make it up at the very least 'fess up in your notes at the end. Even Carolly Erickson admitted to writing "whimsey". I am so done with this author, but don't let me stop you, everyone else seems to just love her.  Or perhaps I'm just suffering Chadwick withdrawal. Is. It. May. Yet?&lt;div&gt;*********&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My copy courtesy Amazon Vine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-7321230552866128332?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/7321230552866128332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/02/queens-lover-novel-by-vanora-bennett.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7321230552866128332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7321230552866128332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/02/queens-lover-novel-by-vanora-bennett.html' title='The Queen&apos;s Lover: A Novel by Vanora Bennett'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-1636598354837687045</id><published>2010-01-31T05:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T13:03:56.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are Robin Hood's tights too tight?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Zb0fPALbL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 500px; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Zb0fPALbL._SS500_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;***Adult content warning. If you are at work and don't want the censor alarms going off and notifying the boss what you are really doing I suggest you stop and wait until you get home***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lol! How's that for a cover for you. I discovered this book in a round about way (long story, we don't need to go there) and as a cock-up (pun most definitely intended) my Secret Santa sent me this. I am guessing everyone wanted to see what I could do with it so here we go.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This "Adults Only" book (there is probably a very good reason the look inside feature is not available on Amazon) is author Tim Desmondes' take on the old Robin Hood legends. He sets his version in the 1180's when Henry and Eleanor of Aquitaine are still on the throne. Story wise it pretty much follows the standard lines of being branded as an outlaw, living in the forest with the Merry Men and his true love Maid Marian. Where this does go well off the beaten path is the sexual activities and language in this book, much of which I am too embarrassed to even share here. Perhaps if the author had kept his tongue firmly planted in his cheek and kept it light it might have been a bit more *fun* but as it was it was obnoxious and downright painful to get through - but I took one for the team and slowly carried on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will share a few quotes with you and remember - these are the tamest, and the *** at the end of certain words are inserted by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After his first romp in the hay with his beloved Maid Marian,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"He was a merry Robin. He had found his Maid Marian who had literally found him to her taste."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use your imagination and you can figure out what she was tasting, and be very very glad I didn't quote from just before that. Very glad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"He had to take pleasure in those voluptuous boobs. As his sweetheart lay on the bed sighing, he applied his lips to those extended nipples that had popped up perkily to greet his. As he sucked and suckled, Main Marian's right hand encircled his balls"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets worse, but I am not going further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...Queen Eleanor's eyes fairly bugged out when they bored in on the bulge in Robin's tights. She was not disappointed. Unless the outlaw wore falsies he very much lived up to her expectations."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falsies? I am sooooo not going there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"As Robin stared, amazed and in awe, at the most beautiful tits in the Westerns world, Eleanor gazed, awestruck, at the most esthetically gorgeous c*** and balls she had ever encountered. Although he was her subject, Robin took the initiative and bolted directly to that pair of nipples that were winking at him across the room........Neither minstrelsy nor history record the intricacies of who did what to whom in what was undoubtedly the greatest f***fest of the eleventh century."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**scratches head** 11C? Kind of makes the Alan Savage novels look good. Almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The queen smiled to herself. She well knew how Robin could shoot with his glorious personal arrow."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Matching his Saxon c*** to Eleanor's Aquitainian c*** that evening, the Battle of Hastings was re-enacted with victory achieved by both sides."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not want to know. I do not want to know. I do not want to know. The book continues on with the rest of Robin's story including his meeting with the Lionheart (oh I was sooooooo scared what he was going to do there - but whew it didn't happen) along more pages and pages of someone else's poetry and/or old ballads. Perhaps if you're into reading porn this might appeal but otherwise I'd give it a pass. Bad, unbelievably bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-1636598354837687045?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/1636598354837687045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/01/adult-content-warning.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1636598354837687045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1636598354837687045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2010/01/adult-content-warning.html' title='Are Robin Hood&apos;s tights too tight?'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-6538140195583529492</id><published>2009-12-31T04:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T13:34:43.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Electra Galaxy's Mr. Interstellar Feller by Candace Sams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jEm9QcVpL._SL500_AA300_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jEm9QcVpL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51STcySNjoL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;***Please finish eating and swallow your beverage prior to reading this review. The Book Blogger's Shelf of Shame will not be held responsible for monitor damage if you foolishly continue to do so.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo, after hearing about the latest author behaving bad kerfuffle (if you missed it you can catch up on it &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Electra-Galaxys-Interstellar-Feller-Spell/dp/0505527626/ref=pd_ybh_3?pf_rd_p=280800601&amp;amp;pf_rd_s=center-2&amp;amp;pf_rd_t=1501&amp;amp;pf_rd_i=ybh&amp;amp;pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&amp;amp;pf_rd_r=06WMZ0KW471AKC3M0KBB"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;) wherein Candace Sams takes serious umbrage with a couple of critical reviewers on Amazon. If that's not bad enough she actually offered up Klausner (!!) as a prime example of what a good reviewer should be. Lord help us all if we must become Klausner Klones and litter the world with more badly written reviews. Anyway, not being one to let a few one star reviews stop me and since the library had it I decided to see for myself. Big mistake. Huge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Basic plot run-down: somewhere in the future some evil villainous types have stolen the banned Ache blaster weapons and are preparing to sell them to the highest bidder. In steps Earth policewoman Sagan Carter who is assigned to assist Oceanun enforcer Captain Keir Trask who is going undercover to smoke the baddies out and save the day. The undercover assignment you ask? Why he's going to enter the Mr. Interstellar Feller pageant - a galaxy wide mega event put on in Los Angeles and sponsored by the makers of the Pluto Pillow Mints. In true romance novel fashion the two are drop dead gorgeous (more on Keir's appearance shortly) and they are instantly in lust with each other but they hate each other at the same time (isn't that original?). Of course Sagan can't abide anyone keeping secrets from her, so there's a small sub-plot to the Ache blasters with some jewels that is super secret and Keir has orders from his superiors not divulge to anyone - just what we need to keep our two lovers at odds. How original. I think you can figure out the rest - our pair of lovebirds and Keir's sidekick and BFF battle the evil baddies as we sit on pins and needles (not) waiting for them to save the world.......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;OK, that does all sound pretty dumb but I was willing to keep an open mind and at first start I thought it might not be that bad if one is in a fluffy novel kind of mood. Unfortunately, Sams forgets to keep her tongue firmly planted in her cheek and what might have been a fun read quickly evolved into a dreadful mess of a book. Sagan just pouted all the time, while Keir spent most of it either getting a hard-on looking at Sagan or getting pissed off at our Independent Miss and turning a darker shade of green (more on that shortly) and "growling" a lot. The baddies are waaaaaay too OTT in badness and don't you worry, you'll guess who the mysterious weapons buyer is lickety split. No surprises here (must be that damn editor's fault). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, about our hero from another planet? Have I kept you wondering long enough about the big attraction? He's described as 7' tall with "gargantuan pectorals" and light green skin with blue eyes and apparently Sagan can't keep her eyes (and hands) off of him, but unfortunately for me this image popped into my mind and once there it didn't go away,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.scifiupdates.com/home/images/stories/TV/Munsters/Herman-Munster_003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, you guessed it. Top all that off with mediocre writing that I'm sure is all the editor's fault. The Pluto Pillow mints were bad enough, apparently there are Purple Porpoises on Keir's home planet with fins that glow. The story supposedly set well into the future, yet the hotel security still has tapes for Sagan to download and splice to her heart's content (ummmm, wouldn't we be digital by now?), along with characters using slang that hasn't changed one iota in all these years (You all remember the 70's when we were saying peace and groovy? No one's doing that now, are they?). Although the hands down laugh out loud moment for me was Keir leaving the Downtown Los Angeles hotel (you all know it's on the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;West&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; coast kind of by the beach right?) to head out to the desert and points his hovercraft &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;WEST&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Might as well blame that on the editor too. This book might suit in you're in the mood for a satirical farce (although I don't think that's what Sams intended), but otherwise I suggest passing on this one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-6538140195583529492?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/6538140195583529492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/12/electra-galaxys-mr-interstellar-feller.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6538140195583529492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6538140195583529492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/12/electra-galaxys-mr-interstellar-feller.html' title='Electra Galaxy&apos;s Mr. Interstellar Feller by Candace Sams'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-7434391360351767689</id><published>2009-11-14T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T16:49:27.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vow of Seduction by Angela Johnson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41ohH0rx1HL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 500px; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41ohH0rx1HL._SS500_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adj. 1. ungulated - having or resembling hoofs; "horses and other hoofed animals"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lol! When I spotted this word in a very weird sex scene I assumed it was merely a bad typo - until I looked up the meaning. Clearly my limited imagination was not grasping everything the author was trying to convey. Probably just as well it went over my head. Sir Alex de Beaumont has pledged to go on crusade with Edward Longshanks (soon to be Edward I), but he fears telling his new bride and slips out quietly after consummating the union. He disappears and is believed dead, but returns just as Lady Katherine (Kat) is preparing to wed again. Kat not being your typical meek and dutiful Medieval Miss she declares her husband to be a "treacherous bastard" among other names and denies her husband her bed (why the King and the priests didn't insist she be an obedient wife and submit to her husband.....). Alex is part alpha male and part wimp and pleads with Kat to allow him the chance to regain her trust - but if he can't he'll go to the Pope and get an annulment (how on earth he thinks he'll get that when even Kings had a hard time getting one of those I'll never know....).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's also a mystery surrounding the attack on Alex and his imprisonment, and the threats on his life continue upon his return to court and include a couple of baddies referred to as Scarface and One Eye (how original). Of course Kat gets involved despite Alex's efforts to keep her in the dark and just like any other well bred medieval noblewoman she can pull the dagger from her boot and throw it with daring precision as well as being able to tumble the bad guy over her shoulder, rides astride like a man (at court, no less while attending on the Queen) leap tall buildings with a single bound.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, just kidding about the last one. This is a silly silly plot filled with more holes than swiss cheese, very bad sex scenes in minute excruciating detail (although some are so OTT they're laugh out loud funny at times),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"After long delicious moments he added his thumb and pressed against her engorged bud. She cried out loud, her juices bathing his fingers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"her breasts peeped out like twin melons, lushly abundant and full. He wanted nothing more than to pluck the sweet flesh to readiness, to suck and plunder her breasts with his lip and tongue."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add to that a heavy-handed use of words in an effort to make it all sound authentic - "prithee", "forsooth", "verily" "aright" and others (at least there wasn't a bunch of "woe is me"). Whew. I lost count at how many times Alex "snarled" and "growled", let alone how many times we had to hear about the tips and buds of Kat’s bountiful breasts. Gag me. Oh and since it’s a purply prosed romance novel we must have an abundant overuse of the word honey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"He shouted out as his essence exploded inside her. Simultaneously her honey-drenched muscles contracted tightly around his shaft again and again.........Kat cried out as her flesh throbbed and her honey flowed, the little contractions inside her milking his seed into her womb."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The honey-drenched walls of her sheath contracted around his fingers."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, it's just a fluffy wall-paper romance in a make believe historical setting that's really only there for the purpose of filling it with OTT sex scenes which includes lots of oral sex (I could swear that would have been considered a sin and they should have been running for the nearest priest to confess but what do I know?). If that’s what you like in a book, this might be the one for you. Otherwise, I'd skip this. Wish I had. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-7434391360351767689?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/7434391360351767689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/11/vow-of-seduction-by-angela-johnson.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7434391360351767689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7434391360351767689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/11/vow-of-seduction-by-angela-johnson.html' title='Vow of Seduction by Angela Johnson'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-2503008298861491573</id><published>2009-11-05T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T06:33:56.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gaveston by Chris Hunt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/SvLbNiGB8NI/AAAAAAAAABs/nHpG4LmSE-g/s1600-h/51XARDAWYSL__SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400619928707526866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/SvLbNiGB8NI/AAAAAAAAABs/nHpG4LmSE-g/s400/51XARDAWYSL__SS500_.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't stare too long at that cover, those eyes will give you the willies. Sooooo, I'm going my merry way checking the HF forum at PaperbackSwap and stumble into one about a book on &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_ii"&gt;Edward II&lt;/a&gt; I'd never heard of - &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gaveston-Gay-Mens-Press-Collection/dp/0854492623/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1257429881&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Gaveston &lt;/a&gt;- which focuses on his notorious relationship with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piers_Gaveston"&gt;Piers Gaveston&lt;/a&gt;. The only setback is it's published by the Gay Men's Press Collection. Yikes! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyhoo, one of the gals who'd just read it decided to pass it along to me and I'd heard that Hunt's historical facts were spot on so I was game to give it a whirl. Although, what was billed as a love story was IMHO more of a lust story, but I only made it to page #101 so what do I know? Maybe it did get serious later on.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe not. The book starts when Edward is a young teen and he already has a bent towards his preference to men over women by the time Piers shows up. Edward is instantly smitten and desperately in love - does Piers return his feelings or is he simply in it for lands and titles? After slogging through their *wedding ceremony* as well as Piers taking young Edward out to the stews to give him some experience with a woman (wonder why &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; encounter was behind closed doors without a scrap of detail but the next one where it's all young boys we get a full blown no holds bared retelling?). Gross, gross, gross - although the book finally flew when in the midst of a battle campaign surrounded by an army the lads just can't keep their hands off of each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Piers stood in his breeches, a sight to be savoured. There was the firmness of his dark-skinned torso, and his muscular arms; the lean slender belly, the little black curls that showed about the navel. But the breeches! The breeches were tight-fitting, hugging arse and thighs to somewhat above the knee,and trimmed with orphrey, as it is called, Phrygian gold, that same rich embroidery that priests use on holy vestments. Luxurious, sybaritic, sensuous....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I licked my lips. "Unpeel, O blessed one."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;And that friends is when the book flew - although at least there wasn't any volcano of honey :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edward was a simpering wimp constantly mooning over Piers (actually more over his "arse", but you get my drift) and I just couldn't take anymore. I guess if you are really interested in the period and can tolerate the constant sex go for it, but in the meantime &lt;a href="http://readersrespite.blogspot.com/"&gt;Michele&lt;/a&gt; is next on the list, although what payback I'll get this time has me quaking in my boots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you do want to read more about Edward, I highly recommend Susan Higginbotham's excellent &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Traitors-Wife-Susan-Higginbotham/dp/1402217870/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1257429465&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;The Traitor's Wife&lt;/a&gt;. I appreciate an author who can take such a controversial topic and handle it with good taste and delicacy and just shut the bedroom door. I hear the author has written several other *historical fiction* books but I think I'll pass. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-2503008298861491573?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/2503008298861491573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/11/gaveston-by-chris-hunt.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/2503008298861491573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/2503008298861491573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/11/gaveston-by-chris-hunt.html' title='Gaveston by Chris Hunt'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/SvLbNiGB8NI/AAAAAAAAABs/nHpG4LmSE-g/s72-c/51XARDAWYSL__SS500_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-1359262112072852692</id><published>2009-10-27T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T05:52:50.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Woman Who Would Be Pharaoh by William Klein</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/S5OvjfGcFBI/AAAAAAAAAB8/WUo79p2jMdM/s1600-h/pharoah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445889398599848978" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/S5OvjfGcFBI/AAAAAAAAAB8/WUo79p2jMdM/s200/pharoah.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51kGTASgOxL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Full disclosure - Egypt is not a period I have much interest in, so my knowledge of it is pretty sparse. I doubt I would ever have looked into this book outside of the fact that one of my Amazon friends &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/review/R1T90NOEMEXKV/ref=cm_cr_dp_cmt?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;ASIN=1601641893&amp;amp;nodeID=283155#wasThisHelpful"&gt;reviewed&lt;/a&gt; it and received a bit of a slap from the author who took umbrage with her thoughts on the amount of sex in the novel:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"William Klein says:&lt;br /&gt;If Tara, from Utah, disliked my novel because of an excess of sexuality, I would urge her to avoid Norman Mailer's "Ancient Evenings." If she wants to be a custodian of public morals, intent on policing the world of novels for unseemly references to sexuality, that is her business, but it's not the best way to flesh out the value of a novel."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Hmmm, wonder what the significance is for Tarah being from Utah and what that has to do with her opinons (oh I get it). I for one appreciate a reviewer letting me know if the sexual content of a book is OTT or not - all the better to make an informed reading decision. Although I forgot all about it until lo and behold a *&lt;a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/71766601"&gt;review&lt;/a&gt;* shows up on Goodreads that instead of reviewing the book attacks some unnamed reviewer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;"They really aren't as bad as she makes them out to be and one wonders what her agenda is. I mean, she has taken a lot of time to write all of her one star reviews."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooo, at this point in time I'm fired up enough to see for myself and since the library (fools they are) had purchased a few copies I placed my hold. Big mistake. Huge. I made it to page 110 and finally had to give up. Yes the sex was bad - frankly I was afraid there was a ménage à trois coming up with the monkey but thankfully that didn't happen. Whew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What "done me in" was the most unbelievably bad drivel I have ever come across. Words can't describe the simplistic silly plot that doesn't even make sense - there is just no story or character continuity whatsoever. If it weren't for the sex I'd recommend this for a five year old. On second thought, perhaps not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as I was able to gather, the story is about Princess Ankhesenpaaten who at fifteen is set to marry nine-year-old Pharaoh to be Tutankhamun. I believe eventually when she is widowed there is a big power struggle and lots of nasty deeds and family treachery. In the first pages, The Princess is more interested in men, sex and drinking at the local tavern. She escapes from the Royal Palace and meets up with the young set (I am not kidding) and heads for the local tavern and gets royally soused and does the hurdy gurdy in front of everyone (no, I am not kidding) and incites the men to mad lust. Then there's some kind of attempt on her life and our intrepid hero saves her and voila (!) they end up at some lake or river and do the nasty and presto-chango they're madly in love and our snotty child abusing heroine (more on that shortly) is the sweetest thing since honey on bread. And I'll buy that bridge in Brooklyn.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if bad writing and storyline wasn't enough to send the book flying the copulating dwarfs most certainly did - let alone what our Royal Princess did to young Tut (remember now he's just nine) when she and her handmaidens attacked him in the bedroom and raised his night shirt (Pages 31 and 32),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Ankhesenpaaten pulled his covering hands apart, pointed to his little peeper and filled the room with her laughter. "It looks like a toad! A dead toad!"'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ankhesenpaaten took hold of his peeper. She held it between her thumb and forefinger as though it was something fished from the Nile. She gave it several quick jerks. "Little toady goes Peep! Peep! Peep!"'&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;And &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is our MC who we're supposed to care about? You remember the author's comment I quoted earlier about "unseemly references to sexuality"? Ye gods, if that's not unseemly I don't know what is. Fear not, it gets worse for we're soon introduced to her Aunt's (auntie she calls her) pet dwarfs Pere and Renehen (pages 81 and 82):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;'His fingernails were allowed to grow long and curved so that his hands resembled the claws of a bird of prey. His cock hung between his legs like a large dark desiccated gourd..... The dwarfs faced each other and gyrated slowly.... The object of interest was the dangling gourd between Pera's legs.....Menkhara stared at Pera's extraordinary organ.... The room shook with roars of approval as Renehen amused the guests with one of her favorite tricks called the Kingfisher. It consisted of a running leap onto Pera's huge scimitar cock, a performance that if improperly executed, could main one or both of the participants.'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had enough yet? I sure have. My only question is who are those six people giving it glowing five star reviews on Amazon? We'll probably never know but five of the six have only written one review ever and the last has written three. Get it from the library if you must, I'm glad I did. I'll now sign off so I can wash my brain out thoroughly with soap and water. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-1359262112072852692?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/1359262112072852692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/10/woman-who-would-be-pharoah-by-william.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1359262112072852692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1359262112072852692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/10/woman-who-would-be-pharoah-by-william.html' title='The Woman Who Would Be Pharaoh by William Klein'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/S5OvjfGcFBI/AAAAAAAAAB8/WUo79p2jMdM/s72-c/pharoah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-7756261562533352669</id><published>2009-10-09T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T17:17:04.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still searching for a good historical romance.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1250701999l/6520229.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 475px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1250701999l/6520229.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ....and that's because I did not find it here. I have to fess up, when I read Harriet's review wherein she gave if five stars and called it a "profound historical romance" along with the comment "never slows as William feels like he has three (his natural hardened sword) and often four (his metallic sword) legs throughout much of the plot", I just had to go and see for myself (I do love it when Harriet gets frisky and tries to slide something by the Ammy censors).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siobhan Fraser (an Irish name for a Scottish lass, how odd) discovers that her father has been kidnapped by the evil Pierre de la Roche who covets the hidden treasure of the Knights Templar, including the Spear of Destiny - whoever controls the spear can rule the world (raising your eyebrows in disbelief yet?). Coming to her rescue is Templar Knight Sir William Keith as the two find the hidden map to the treasure and the adventure begins. *Yawn*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really didn't have high expectations going into this, but I certainly didn't expect to find such a jumbled mess of cartoon cut-out characters, including an evil baddie in the mold of Snidely Whiplash - I kept waiting for him to twirl his mustache (sorry, I couldn't resist). &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://bitsblog.florack.us/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/whiplash_snidely.png" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Never fear, it gets worse. Our plucky heroine is able to travel anywhere and everywhere ALONE with our hero with nary an eyebrow raised by anyone, she gets a quick lesson in swordplay and she's able to swing the broadsword like a man, leap tall buildings with a single bound.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually that's really our hero who just like Superman can outfight any evil baddie who crosses his path, including fighting his way through forty (yes 40) armed men with nary a scratch - let alone that scene where they're both hanging by a thread above a spike filled dungeon. Did they have spike filled dungeons in the 14C? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But to top it all off is some of the most insipid dialog I've come across in a while,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never imagined it could feel so good"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've never felt like this before"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just the kind of talk I look for to liven up a sex scene. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Frankly the sex scenes were pretty crappy for your standard bodice ripper romance. No chemistry there. In the end, it's just a big fluffy piece of preposterous nonsense - imagine the Saturday morning cartoons set to a book. But never fear - there's more coming soon as this appears to be the first in a series. I don't know about anyone else, but I'll pass. Get it from the library if you must, I'm glad I did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-7756261562533352669?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/7756261562533352669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/10/still-searching-for-good-historical.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7756261562533352669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7756261562533352669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/10/still-searching-for-good-historical.html' title='Still searching for a good historical romance.....'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-1291807961752767238</id><published>2009-09-18T15:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T19:35:54.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen of Love by Alan Savage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/516CX61OP7L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 322px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/516CX61OP7L.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Queen of Love picks up where &lt;a href="http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/eleanor-of-aquitaine-by-alan-savage.html"&gt;Eleanor of Aquitaine&lt;/a&gt; left off. Eleanor is now married to Henry II and Queen of England and she starts dropping children left and right - including the future Richard I and the infamous John Lackland, and continues as their now grown sons revolt against their father, Richard's crusade and marriage to Berengeria, and into her old age and John's rule and the murder of his nephew Arthur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found the first person narrative as an aging Eleanor reflects back her life really bogged this book down - there is just too much telling and not showing. Although when Savage does have Eleanor in the thick of things that *showing* is downright hilarious . From seducing her husband's mistress Rosamund Clifford in the bath,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...as she moved towards the steaming tub, pushing up her sleeve, added, "Not with your hand, girl. With your ass.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My hand coursed up her thigh and over her left buttock, then moved up to her shoulder.........I brought my hand out of her hair and back to her shoulder, then slid it in front, down to her breast, to cup it and hold it, and gently pinch the nipple."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...the fact that we had shared a bath, because after she had soaped me I had her in the tub on top of me, and as the water had flowed out our mutual desires had flowed in...."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;To her relationship with a young William Marshal (oh my that wardrobe error),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...and released the cord holding his hose. This promptly slipped about his ankles. Or certainly tried to do this. But it was impeded, and so, with dainty fingers,  I helped it on its way........  And I realised that the entire business would have to be in my hands. Well, it was, most literally."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then there's her relationship with Blondel the lute player (I mean come on, she's over 50 already and still getting it), although she did have to share him with her son Richard (well, maybe sharing is the wrong term - Richard picked up after mom was done).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the hands down laugh out loud moment was Eleanor giving sex-ed lessons to her future daughter-in-law Berengeria. Knowing Richard's taste for men, she was very very careful to give her a blow by blow of anything she could do to encourage him along the path to marital harmony, as well as any orifice that one might use to encourage his interest in one of the female persuasion. I'll spare you those details -you don't want to know, trust me. Although we do have Eleanor discussing the marriage with her long-time maid and friend, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"But this girl is our last hope, she must be to Richard what Richard wants and requires."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She doesn't have a penis, your Grace."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As in the first book, Eleanor does it with just about everyone but the Pope and Thomas Becket (although for a while I was afraid that was going to happen). But it's not just Eleanor who gets to play around - her sons Richard and Geoffrey both get to diddle with the French King. Read these two books for the laughs only and not for the history. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-1291807961752767238?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/1291807961752767238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/queen-of-love-by-alan-savage.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1291807961752767238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1291807961752767238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/queen-of-love-by-alan-savage.html' title='Queen of Love by Alan Savage'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-1985085937777871482</id><published>2009-09-15T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T19:00:17.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alan Savage</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/511AifCQ8iL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 322px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 500px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/511AifCQ8iL.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Despite a cover that has all the appearances of a serious historical novel, well all I can say is don't judge a book by it's cover . This is the first of two books Savage has written on the life of Eleanor of Aquitaine, and is written in the first person as an older Eleanor reflects back on her life. Just a brief run down for those not familiar with her life - heiress to the Duchy of Aquitaine, she is married to the very pious King Louis of France (he was the second son and was intended for the church until the elder brother died), they go on a disastrous crusade and after bearing only two daughters Louis has the marriage annulled and she goes on to marry the future Henry II of England, where this book ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although according to the book jacket this is part of a "colourful romantic series", I've got to tell you - enter at your own risk. Eleanor does it with just about everybody except for the Pope, Abbe Suger, the eunuch and a monk or two, starting from the age of twelve (!!) when her governess leads her into the arts of pleasure:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Albina had been appointed my governess following Mama's death.......Albina had never married, but she was definitely experienced. She it was who now undertook to instruct me in the business of being a woman and the duties of a wife. Well, I can't say I much cared for the second half of her schooling.......and proceeded to tell me the facts of life. Well! My first reaction was consternation, that anyone, and particularly any man, should be allowed - and apparently encouraged - to make as free with my body as Albina indicated and was demonstrating&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"As to the ways of myself or my maidservants, I was not in the least curious. Albina had taught me that our desires were mutual - in fact they were happy to tell me theirs, and their various means of satisfying them, in hopes of pleasing me - but however often we romped together our conversation always returned to the same subject, that of male codpieces and what might lie beneath them and what use may be made of such a remarkable apprutenance. As may be imagined, those of my attendants who actually claimed to possess personal acquaintance with such entrancing objects were in great demand, even if I was always uncertain as to whether they should be whipped for lying or wantonness."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;And then there's the escapade with a young page (mind you, she's still 12/13 years old) that leaves a telling stain on her skirt and raises eyebrows in the laundry (think Monica Lewinski):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I will let you put your hand beneath my gown if you will untie your codpiece."...... "he slipped his hand up my calf, carressed my knee, and moved it higher to my thigh.......I allowed Alfred full freedom, even to reach the silky down he was seeking.......he was full to bursting......"&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Oh but we're not done yet, let's not forget the female bath attendants at Constantinople:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I would be lying were I to claim that I did not feel a pang, several pangs, of alarm, when these girls began soaping my breasts and buttocks, sending their hands between my legs to arouse the most intense emotions. But I recalled the old saying that when in Rome...and Constantinople was far grander than Rome&lt;/em&gt;." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Her uncle Raymond (ya'll remember Deep Throat?): &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"...my uncle knelt on the bed beside my shoulders, threw his other leg across me, and kneeling astride my breasts, allowed his weapon, huge and poised, to caress my face"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll spare you the rest. Whilst on crusade she encounters the twelve year old Saladin:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Saladin had me on my knees like the veriest bitch. Indeed, had he commanded me, I would have barked. Perhaps I did&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Woof woof. On to Geoffrey of Anjou (oh my). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Soon enough he was banging away again. Fortunately twice in rapid succession was sufficient even for the Angevin, at least in the short run...."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Although the hands down laugh out loud moments were at the end where she takes up with Henry's mother the formidable &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Empress Matilda&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside of the OTT sex scenes the rest of the novel is rather dry and suffers badly from the use of the first person narrative. Eleanor comes across as quite vain and full of herself and an entirely unsympathetic character. Read this one for the laughs and not for the history. I do have a copy of the second book, Queen of Love and I am curious to see what Savage does with the rest of Eleanor's life. Wonder what she does with the Lionheart? William Marshal? Rosamund Clifford? Stay tuned.... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-1985085937777871482?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/1985085937777871482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/eleanor-of-aquitaine-by-alan-savage.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1985085937777871482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1985085937777871482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/eleanor-of-aquitaine-by-alan-savage.html' title='Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alan Savage'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-3402804790715219488</id><published>2009-09-08T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T11:18:57.460-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Historical Mystery'/><title type='text'>Tears of Pearl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sqafzo1Le0I/AAAAAAAABVs/vNk4hhMNyGg/s1600-h/Tears+of+Pearl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sqafzo1Le0I/AAAAAAAABVs/vNk4hhMNyGg/s400/Tears+of+Pearl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379162514423249730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself repeatedly sighing out loud and rolling my eyes at the  ridiculous, unlikely, unbelievable and melodramatic events and dialogue  throughout this mediocre murder mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know Tasha Alexander can do  better. She created wonderful characters in Lady Emily and Colin Hargreaves in  'And Only to Deceive' and she continued to develop their relationship in 'A  Poisoned Season'. I thought both books were wonderful and I would recommend  either of them to any one who enjoys good historical fiction or likes mysteries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately 'Tears of Pearl' has little or no character development, a  poor mystery at it's core, unrealistic dialogue and a completely unbelievable  string of events. There is an overwhelming amount of trembling and tingling  being described but sadly there wasn't any chemistry between the characters. The  constant double entendres exchanged between Emily and Colin seemed forced and  far too contemporary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reader does learn some new things about Lady  Emily's youth but they feel as if they are facts given to fill in the blanks,  some of which were repeated a bit too often for my tastes. Alexander also  includes letters in the book that add nothing to the story. She did this with  'Fatal Waltz' as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I liked about this book was when  Lady Emily recalled events that happened in the first two books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  thought the mystery was lack-luster the events ridiculous and the author turned  what had been very likable characters into caricatures. This, the double  entendres and unbelievable dialogue has made me swear off any more Tasha  Alexander novels until she returns to the quality of writing that she produced  in her first two novels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms. Alexander please stop resting on your  laurels and get back to work writing something you can be proud of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  never would have finished this if I hadn't selected it through the Vine program  and been obligated to review it. Had I paid for this book I would have been very  angry to have wasted my money on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would recommend some similar  but very well done historical mysteries; Deanna Raybourn's 'Silent' series and  Kate Ross' 'Julian Kestral' mysteries. And Ashley Gardner has a nice series set  in a little bit earlier time period, the 'Gabriel Lacy' series.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*S*P*O*I*L*E*R*S&lt;br /&gt;And I will now be specific about some of the things that  had me rolling my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily and Colin listen to Sir Richard tell about  how his daughter, Ceyden, was abducted as a child and how he has never stopped  looking for her. Then *bam* there she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceyden was abducted at the age  of three yet her father instantly recognizes her as a grown woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And  in case the reader had any doubt about her father's ability to identify her, the  author has given Ceyden a unique tattoo so her identity can be confirmed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceyden was abducted and later sold into the harem by some one other than  her abductor, but she somehow still maintains her birth name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sir  Richard has supposedly searched the world over to find his missing daughter yet  she uses her birth name. Perhaps if he had just searched the world over looking  for people named Ceyden we would have been spared this story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were  some interesting ways that people died; a child burned to death playing with  matches, a son commits suicide by cutting himself with scissors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The  anachronistic use of words like crash and stalking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily suggest that  Benjamin is having an affair with his sister, who is still called Ceyden.  Perhaps he might have noticed the family resemblance AND her name before he fell  in love with her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily is being comforted in the mosque by complete  strangers while her husband is a short walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily cries at will in  order to get the caretaker at Nuruosmaniye to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Margaret "crashes"  Emily and Colin's honeymoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colin catches Sir Richard as he falls at  the reception at the British Embassy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Emily tells Roxelana that she  has a plan to help her escape Roxelana falls to the floor with joyful prayers  even though we know that someone is always listening and often watching the  women. Perhaps they might have noticed Roxelana's happiness and wondered what  the cause was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily tells Roxelana that she doesn't believe that she  has been completely honest with her but that she will help her escape the harem  anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily gives no thought to how Roxelana will survive in the world  after she escapes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bad guy tells Emily where to meet him and only  because she has read so extensively about the area does she know about the  location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily and Roxelana are trapped with the bad guy in the dark &lt;br /&gt;Luckily Emily still has a candle and matches in her reticule.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily  the bad guy is afraid of the dark.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily the door keeping them trapped  with the bad guy has just the type of latch that Emily knows how to open from  the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pleeeeze...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I think that might be more than  enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-3402804790715219488?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/3402804790715219488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/tears-of-pearl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3402804790715219488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3402804790715219488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/09/tears-of-pearl.html' title='Tears of Pearl'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sqafzo1Le0I/AAAAAAAABVs/vNk4hhMNyGg/s72-c/Tears+of+Pearl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-5427114134892720684</id><published>2009-07-11T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T18:19:51.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Storm Cycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Slk5aUAgXrI/AAAAAAAABMU/R4hbQ1LUm1Q/s1600-h/storm+cycle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Slk5aUAgXrI/AAAAAAAABMU/R4hbQ1LUm1Q/s400/storm+cycle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357376355944128178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Storm Cycle&lt;/span&gt; by Iris Johansen and Roy Johansen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Unlikeable characters + Unbelievable circumstances + Insipid writing = Storm  Cycle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another Vine choice, this one seemed interesting as a high-tech thriller based  in Egyptian mythology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel Kirby is desperately trying to find a cure for  her ailing sister using a computer called Jonesy. But not only is someone--John  Tavak--siphoning off some of the computer's processing power but someone is out  to kill her. Furthermore, John Tavak in Egypt needs her help. Together, they  search the ancient history, hoping that Peseshet may give them the key to save  Rachel's sister's life...and their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Liked:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed seeing a real life computer concept (combining the unused  processing power of normal computers) in a fictional setting. I know that this  is used by SETI (our home computer even ran the program for many years) and I  think it is an incredibly neglected concept in the fictional realm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also,  Egyptian history has always been intriguing. Whether it's their ages old  architecture still standing, their hieroglyphics or some other inexplicable  draw, the Egyptians have always held an appeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciated the affection  for Rachel and her sister, Allie, which reminds me a lot of the relationship I  have with my own sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the very end was kinda exciting. Probably the  most exciting in the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Did Not Like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not violently hated a book this passionately since  probably Batman: Fear Itself or more likely, Deck the Halls. I wanted to throw  this book so hard against the wall no less than half a dozen times...within the  first 50 pages. Why? Let me expand...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Rachel Kirby. In the beginning, I  liked her (despite her rather glowing physical description: petite, delicate,  face "glowing with energy and life"). But then, she takes a one way nose dive  into Mary Sue territory when she gets a PhD in Computer Science (a notoriously  challenging degree) at the ripe age of 15 and a SECOND doctorate in Medicine  when she is 20 (page 18). Yes, she somehow whipped through twelve years of  elementary, middle, and high school and 12+ years of college in 15 years of her  life. As if this in and of itself didn't make her a Mary Sue, then the fact that  every time anyone tries to cross her, she treats him or her extremely rudely  (even the investigator who is trying to find her killer starting on page 11) and  gets away with it (which I could understand maybe occasionally, but all the time  and with each person?). Despite her poor behavior, she has flocks of fans, is  highly respected even by her enemies, and pushes around the NSA like a doggie  chew toy. Right. Mary Sue anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. John Tavak. He's the Indiana Jones of  the book and, proving that the authors think the readers are stupid, is spelled  out as such on page 307. Supposedly, he is "mocking, unscrupulous, reckless, and  completely self-absorbed...the confidence and intelligence that were present in  his every move" (page 99) yet still he is able to charm everyone, including and  especially Rachel! Tavak can steal, cheat, spy, invade privacy, kill, and more  and it's not bad, but when the "bad guys" do it, it is? What kind of shady  morality is this? Not to mention, he is described as so smart that his IQ  couldn't be measured (page 75). Uh, hello, did no one take a brief jaunt to  Wikipedia and look up the IQ test? Number one, there is no "maximum limit" for  the IQ. Furthermore, since when did a high IQ mean that a person was  intelligent? To prove he's smart, he starts Harvard classes at 10! What is it  with this authors and these super smart babies? Has no one heard of a normal  childhood? Wouldn't they be messed up from never being children? The last nail  in the coffin of this Gary Stu is that, while he "was not a handsome man" (page  79), he is described as having "dark hair ruffled by the wind", looking "younger  than thirty-eight" with a "tall, (insert other descriptions like "deeply tanned"  here) muscular body [that] possessed a sort of rough elegance", having a "high  impact" presence whose "(sometimes described as "electric"--man, it must suck,  having an electrical current running through your eyes) blue eyes glitter[ing]  with...vitality and intelligence...[that] was almost mesmerizing". This flowery  description is enough to make me gag the first time around (particularly since  he's not supposed to be attractive). But being constantly repeated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Other  characters are equally frustrating. Ben, Tavak's friend, is insulted at every  opportunity, down to the fact that Tavak let his drag along only to make Ben  feel needed (aw, thanks guys!). Allie, Rachel's sister, is supposedly so  sick...but how does she get Russian customs to let her in? Hal Demanski, the  casino owner that Rachel Kirby cheats in a boring theft of Ocean's Eleven, would  be great were it not for his over-the-top "Galahad" romance with Allie (lasting  all of a few hours) and being described constantly as having "undeniable wit and  intelligence" (which is jammed so far down our throats, we are gagging; see page  247 for yet another clunker mention). Nuri and the Russian are heavily  stereotyped. Norton has the bite of a neutered dog. Sorens and Dawson I easily  interchanged, not even sure who was saying what most of the time (not that I  ultimately ended up caring). Emily is almost exactly like Rachel, only older and  drunker. Simon and Val have no personalities other than to worship and lick  Rachel's feet (oh, and Val is also super hot too). The detectives are hideously  stereotyped, particularly the computer nerd who would give his front teeth to  see his goddess...yes, Rachel Kirby! I didn't even bother to remember their  names. The college kid who helps the detective is so hideously portrayed as a  weed head, it makes me sick. And this is only a spattering! Where are the Tums? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The plot. Firstly, sending an email that is nearly the length of a novel  to a woman on the other side of the world while stuck in the middle of a tomb  with a man about to die (page 47)? Talk about taking a HUGE risk! Just the other  day, my mother, who lives all of 17 miles away from me, sent me an email at 10am  and I didn't get until 12am! So, I hope that these guys have a better  connection. Next, while I can believe much of the super-computer thing (using to  find cures, searching for archaeological finds, and even decrypting to an  extent) but using the computer to analyze data to find Peseshet's tomb in the  first place? This really smart of making Jonsey (dumb name anyway) a Dues ex  Machina. Not to mention, that in an obvious attempt to be Indiana Jones,  National Treasure, Ocean's Eleven, CSI, the plot skips and belches all over the  world, spending a page or two detailing the most important parts in each locale,  e.g. finding the clues, forcing their information from their informants an,d  gabbing about how Rachel and John feel about each other, and then whipping to  the next location. I have never felt so jolted around in my life. It was as if  the authors had ADD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The romance. John and Rachel's romance is so forced,  so over the top, I wanted to wretch. The authors force John Tavak down our  throats, hoping we will forget that he has killed a man and committed arson,  theft, breaking/entering, and is a rude, arrogant, self-centered thrill seeker  (which is completely inconsistent with how he really acts) and will want to see  him hook up with Rachel Kirby (who at least is consistent in her character!),  with whom he has almost no chemistry. Then Allie and Hal's romance is strange.  She is 32, and he is late forties. That right there is strange (not many will  abide an almost 20 year age difference). From his over the top gentlemanly  speech about being her Galahad to his buying a piece of her artwork, this  relationship made me want to throw the book through a closed window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. This  scene: "She was suddenly acutely aware of everything about him. The smell of a  spicy aftershave, his long fingers on the glass holding the drink, the strength  of his shoulders, the tightness of his stomach and buttocks." Uh, HELLO?  "Buttocks"? EW! Too much information! "The desire to reach out and touch him..."  Depeche Mode ought to try to sue for the use of these words. "...was dizzying in  intensity. What was happening to her? Stupid, she knew what was happening. Sex."  WTF? Sex was happening to her? How does sex happen to a person? Is something  happening in this scene that no one is telling me? I so do not understand that  wild comment in the slightest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Travel to other countries, many of which  are hostile, is way too easy. And where does all this money come from? Company  card? If so, tsk, tsk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The villains are straight from a child's book,  stupid, dorky, and blurting their simplistic plans to any and all who are  willing to listen. Also, a big red herring appears, which was annoying rather  than clever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Repetition. Need to describe someone? All else fails use the  words "vitality", "intelligence" or "energy" or some derivative of the above. In  fact, those words (or their forms) occur so frequently in the book, it would  make a hell of a drinking game. Also, at least once a chapter, Rachel has to  mention how she doesn't trust Tavak, yet still believes him (one example on page  99 and another on 275). I mean, come on, get over this already! Either trust the  guy or don't but don't spend half the book waffling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Why the hell is it  okay to interrupt Emily's important project but to interrupt Rachel's important  project is a sin? Come on, even if Rachel found a cure for her sister's ailment,  it would be years before it could be used!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. The conclusion was a little  too over the top in its optimism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dialogue/Sexual Situations/Violence: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random spouting of profanities (h***, d***, b****, one instance of the  F-bomb, etc.).&lt;br /&gt;Rachel caves and sleeps with John. No details are shown other  than Rachel cuddling with John after having sex (Gag!) and missing him when he  disappears in the morning (Double gag!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone attempts to kill Rachel  Kirby and John Tavak several times. A man is found dead in the back of a  vehicle. The end is particularly violent, as several men die brutally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A much better and shorter book would have been thus: The shooter is  successful in killing Rachel Kirby. Harsh? Oh, yeah, but this book was harsh on  the mind. It was like salt in a wound, like sand in your underwear, like eating  rotten eggs. The torment that I went through just to read this book (and to  finish!) was so great, I should get an award for it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The characters are  horrible and unbelievable, changing every two seconds to suit the authors'  purpose. The plot is stupid and jerky, hopping from one end of the globe to the  other in an attempt to show a huge, epic, thriling adventure. Then the  romance...Lord have mercy, if I ever have to read about firm buttocks again and  sex "happening", I think I will put myself out of my misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thus a  great concept is violently murdered. The pure atrocity of the book was so much,  I could only read like 5 pages at a time, otherwise I would have thrown the book  at the nearest wall and screamed in pain and agony. In fact, at the end, I could  no longer contain myself (I was desperate to finish the dreck before I threw in  the towel), I was literally yelling at the book. I wouldn't wish this book on my  worst enemy. If I could, I would go 0 stars, but alas, I can only do 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-5427114134892720684?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/5427114134892720684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/07/storm-cycle.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/5427114134892720684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/5427114134892720684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/07/storm-cycle.html' title='Storm Cycle'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Slk5aUAgXrI/AAAAAAAABMU/R4hbQ1LUm1Q/s72-c/storm+cycle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-235922167153698487</id><published>2009-06-21T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T09:48:37.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eleventh Hour</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5j27HWTuI/AAAAAAAABIc/bRyHWPDwnno/s1600-h/11th+hour.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5j27HWTuI/AAAAAAAABIc/bRyHWPDwnno/s400/11th+hour.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349823202595327714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Eleventh Hour, by Catherine Coulter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The only thing holding this together is the glue it's bound  with!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My lameness continues as I pick up yet another book from Dr. Shephard's  office bookshelf (why a book like this is on his office bookshelf I have no  idea). After that, I saw all the bad reviews, but determined to plow ahead  anyway. Maybe it would be different? *fingers crossed*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plot:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father  Michael Joseph is shot in the head while in a confessional. His identical twin  brother, FBI agent Dane Carver, travels to San Francisco to determine who killed  him and why. His answers are partially hidden in the only witness, a young  homeless woman who calls herself Nick Jones. As they discover that the mysteries  surround a new television series, Dane discovers that Nick isn't who she says  she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit that the first 60 or so pages had me tight.  The crisp detailed writing drew me in as Father Michael Joseph was killed and  his brother came to uncover the truth. And the action scene at the end (well,  pretty much the only one in this snoozer)--that was pretty intense too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Father Michael Joseph, I really liked this guy, although you  only see him for about 10 pages. I was really upset to see him die and  half-heartedly wished that the author could have delved more into his point of  view. Also, I can totally sympathize with Dane Carver's predicament. I happen to  be very fond of my sister in the same way he is with his brother. I can  completely understand how upset and distraught he is when he discovers his  brother is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I was amused and impressed when Savich interviewed  Milton McGuffey. This was well-written and well played out by the characters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, dear, where do I begin? There are about a million things  wrong in this book but I will try to condense it from its original four page  format.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first major problem (at least 50%) is Nick Jones. The book was  really good until she walks into the police station and faints at seeing Dane  ("Is this a Harlequin romance or a thriller?"). Then when talking to Delion and  Dane, she says, "He was holding a big, ugly gun in his hand" ("Huh? Is she a six  year old?" I ask, as I wipe tears of laughter from my face). We discover that  this is actually a highly educated medieval history professor who happens to be  one of the most overdramatic women in the history of mankind (fainting, gagging,  gasping, clutching her stomach, dropping hair dryers, crying her eyes out) and  who says the stupidest things pretty much all the time (Is this woman a  retard?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's her attachment to Father Michael Joseph. She acts  like she's known him years, not weeks. I know that if I were Nick, I would most  definitely be disturbed, but not nearly as freaked out and weepy as she is over  his death. She isn't his sister after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, little Ms. Mary Sue then  proceeds to be involved in almost the entire investigation. I could understand  some of her tagging along with the SFPD and FBI agents as she is an eye witness,  but I can't understand why they continually include her in on their discussions,  drag her along to interviews with other suspects (which, I would think, would  only heightens her chances of being killed), and allow her to aid in  interviewing the suspects. This woman is a history major; let's stop pretending  that she is an investigator, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Nick isn't playing an  investigator, she's throwing a hissy-fit about people asking her questions. I  mean, why should the FBI ask her something that she doesn't want to answer? They  should be sensitive of her feelings--even if she is the primary witness to a  crime (and no one questions Nick's story one bit). Not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, it  becomes clear that Nick Jones's purpose is not to make sense but to fall in love  with Dane Carver, a man whose pocketbook is definitely larger than his brain as  he has no qualms about continually shelling out money for clothes, makeup and  beauty supplies for Ms Jones, who has tried to run away no less than twice and  has lied more times than she has strands of hair. I mean, that is exactly what I  would do. Give my entire life's savings to a woman who is always running away.  Not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these two lovebirds have the chemistry of rotting leaves. Coulter  cops out of developing real chemistry by throwing two people together in the  same hotel, shoveling crappy dialogue in their mouths, writing them making love  in the middle of an expository scene, and having them giggling about getting  married after knowing each other all of one week. It's amazing how Nick quickly  gets over her fiancé (whom she has know for three years--it's crazy how easily  she blames him with wanting to kill her) with almost no regrets.&lt;br /&gt;The next  highest portion of problems (~30%) is just plain poor writing. After reading  this book, I wondered how this woman ever got published. She uses absolutely no  transitions, so you have no idea if time is passing or if it isn't, if a  character has entered the room, or if the scene has changed. Need examples? Here  are a few (these are only a small sampling):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Page 92: Paragraph 1: Dane is  leaving a viewing of a TV episode because he couldn't bear it anymore; paragraph  2, Delion suddenly pops out and brings him up to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Pages 118 - 119:  Watch how Sherlock and Delion suddenly appear after Savich downs the man who  shoots Nick. The only clue that they follow after Dane and co.? They start  spouting dialogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Pages 170 - 175: In the hotel room, Dane and Nick leave  to eat, and she picks up her coat but not one word is spent on how they walk to  the car. Suddenly (page 174), they enter the Grand Am that must have appeared in  the hotel room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How hard would it have been to write "a few minutes passed"?  How difficult was it to describe two people walking to a car or to say "Sherlock  rushed towards Savich, Delion close behind"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prose is not the only  lacking component. Coulter cannot write conceivable dialogue. Some of the things  characters talk about (primarily during interviews): how expensive Delion's  shoes are (page 54), how great Savich is at tackling a man who tried to kill  Nick (page 119), Sherlock's irrelevant comments about pictures of her son (page  230), Nick's fabulous "big, ugly gun" comment (page 41), getting laid (pages 147  - 152), or how "in love" Dane and Nick are (page 300). Then, the investigators  never ask the important questions (choosing instead to ask subjects "Do you want  to see pictures of my son?") and jump to conveniently correct conclusions  without a shred of evidence (something that no real-world professional would be  able to justify). In fact, most of the dialogue (especially Sherlock's) comes  off as sounding about as intelligent as a seven year old. Although she's only a  medieval history professor, Nick sometimes asks the best questions (no wonder  these Keystone cops have her tag along!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, Coulter throws character  viewpoints higgledy piggledy throughout the book with no chapter or section  break, making it difficult to tell who is thinking what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last major  component (~20%) is devoted to bad characters/plot. As for characters, they  don't get much better than Nick--they are, at best, one dimensional and defined  by one or maybe two words. Sherlock doesn't want anything more than to show  pictures of her child. Savich wants to get laid with his wife. Flynn loves  basketball, and everything he does revolves around this \. Belinda's body is so  gorgeous the men--including the married ones--ogle her. Dane is moody over his  brother's death. A bodyguard is described as not ever talking yet talks in the  very next sentence (page 101). And the description of a serial  killer--laughable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plot, a very important aspect to a normal thriller,  is just a blended concoction of random events. I can just hear Coulter's thought  process: Oh, I gotta find a place for this motorcycle attack--let's put it after  Nick's second attempt at running away. How are my readers going to find out  about Nick's past? Oh, here's a good empty spot for a sudden flashback. There's  not enough romance between Dane and Nick--let's make Nick concerned about Dane  now that he is injured. Already did that? Oh, let's have them make love! Who  cares if it makes no sense in the story, it'll be cool. There is little action,  little suspense here, just a bunch of talking. And the ending--strange. I won't  go too far (in case you read this junk), but I thought the main story was about  the Father's death--so why does that mystery end 40 pages before the book is  over? The only thing holding this together is the glue that it was bound with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dialogue/Sexual Situations/Violence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S***, d***, h***, ba****d and a  spattering of our favorite F-word are not uncommon. Sexual situations include  mentioning how sexually active some of the suspects are, a woman wearing a  bikini that turns men on, an uncomfortable Dane and Nick lovemaking scene, and  recounting Savich and Sherlock's sex life. Violence includes a man being  garroted, Father Michael Joseph's death, an almost hit-and-run, an agent being  shot, a suicide, a serial killer, and some struggles between unarmed combatants  (yep, you guessed it: Nick and Dane).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This book made me so  aggravated, I wanted to write more. However, if I did, my review would be longer  than Coulter's book. How does this woman get published? She writes worse than my  sister, who is just now in her first college writing class.&lt;br /&gt;One reader said  the problem was Coulter tried to make this a mystery and a romance. I agree.  Coulter tries both in here and comes up with a rancid mix of no thrills (Why is  this called "Eleventh Hour" if there is no race to find anything?) and a romance  consisting of a couple who make Anakin and Padme in &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00006HBUJ/ref=cm_cr_asin_lnk"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#004b91;"&gt;Star Wars - Episode II, Attack of the Clones (Widescreen  Edition)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; look like they were the next Romeo and Juliet.&lt;br /&gt;I  sincerely doubt that I will ever read another Catherine Coulter or if I do, it  will be a very long time from now. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0446615129/ref=cm_cr_asin_lnk"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#004b91;"&gt;Skinny Dip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; may have been obscene, but at least it had  my attention the entire time. This book is going directly to the used bookstore  (guess I'll be more careful before I pick something off Dr. Jack Shephard's  bookshelf). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-235922167153698487?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/235922167153698487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/eleventh-hour.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/235922167153698487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/235922167153698487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/eleventh-hour.html' title='Eleventh Hour'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5j27HWTuI/AAAAAAAABIc/bRyHWPDwnno/s72-c/11th+hour.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-1563892189018524615</id><published>2009-06-21T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T09:45:09.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deck the Halls</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5jG9gWNlI/AAAAAAAABIU/PTA-6v_N5fs/s1600-h/deck+the+halls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5jG9gWNlI/AAAAAAAABIU/PTA-6v_N5fs/s400/deck+the+halls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349822378603329106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deck the Halls, by Mary Higgins Clark and Carol Higgins Clark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;&lt;span style="margin-left: -5px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;The  real mystery is: Who wrote this book?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.5em;"&gt;I have enjoyed Mary Higgins Clark's other  books and with Christmas just around the corner, this seemed to be a good pick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plot:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regan Reilly, a private investigator in California, is the  daughter of funeral director, Luke Reilly, and famous mystery writer, Nora  Reilly. Alvirah Meehan, an amateur detective, was a former cleaning lady and a  winner of the lottery. When someone looking for 1 million dollars decides to  kidnap Luke and his chauffeur, Rosita, these two women must brace the impending  windstorm and rescue them--before the boat they are kept on sinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacking in more quantities than I have hair follicles (and people are always  complementing me on my thick hair), this book is none-the-less fast-paced and  funny (although most of the times inadvertently). The last 100 pages of this  slim read whip by--and that isn't just because the writing is about as  challenging as a Boxcar children book. There is a lot of action and intense  sequences. And while most of the humor made my eyes roll instead of my belly  laugh, sometimes a clever joke would crop up and smile creep across my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can not believe that someone of Mary Higgins Clark's caliper  wrote this! This is so disgusting that I wanted to "Deck" someone's Halls! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. WRITING STYLE:&lt;br /&gt;* Number 1 bad thing missing from this "mystery" is:  subtlety. It was Mary Higgins Clark's trademark in previous books. Instead, the  audience is whacked vehemently over the head with a Christmas tree (or a bell or  a Christmas tree ornament) whenever a point is to be made. C.B. is a bad  guy...he acts strange around his uncle's body. Whack! Jack is going to be  Regan's woman...Nora gushes about how much her husband would love her future  son-in-law. Whack! Fred is a great guy...and doesn't mind watching the children  of a woman he has dated all of two times. Whack! Rosita likes Fred--she's always  calling herself "Cinderella". Whack! The bad guys relate their entire  scheme--who, what, when, where, and why--to their kidnapees. Whack! Whack!  Whack! I just wished that I had a wall to hit into. Or a quarter for every time  I rolled my eyes. I'd never have to work again!&lt;br /&gt;* Characters are introduced  in the same way each time: with a paragraph or ten describing every aspect of  the character. I mean, here's the first paragraph of Jack Reilly's introduction:  "Jack Reilly had sandy hair that tended to curl, hazel eyes more green than  brown even features with a strong jaw and a broad-shouldered, six-foot-two body.  Keenly intelligent, quick-witted, and with a sharp sense of humor honed by  growing up in a large family, he had undeniable charisma. Both at social  gatherings and at work, his laid-back presence somehow filled the room..." This  was good--when I was ten and reading The Babysitters' Club. But mature writers  know the real secret to good novels: show your audience *Fill in the blank*,  don't tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. CHARACTERS: I should say actually "Caricatures". Not one  character in this book could be described with more than one (okay, maybe two  words). I'll prove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regan: attractive, smart&lt;br /&gt;Nora: helpless&lt;br /&gt;Luke:  brave&lt;br /&gt;Rosita: mom&lt;br /&gt;Jack: cop&lt;br /&gt;Fred: prince&lt;br /&gt;Alvirah: annoying  (okay, "detective")&lt;br /&gt;Petey: stupid&lt;br /&gt;C.B.: criminal "mastermind"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's  start at the top. Regan has about as much personality as a cheese slice wrapper.  For someone supposedly smart and a private investigator, she doesn't do a whole  lot of smart things or even investigating. She'd rather think about romancing  the man she met ten seconds ago and leave the investigating to someone else.  Nora shouldn't have even been included--her little "Luke would like my future  son-in-law" bit was inappropriate and stupid. Luke is flatter than pancakes.  Rosita calls herself "Cinderella" to a man she barely knows? Yeah, right. Jack  is said to be oh, so many things (charismatic)--but I never saw him act that  way. Fred has no problem staying with two kids he barely knows--he only dated  their mother twice!--over going to a party. Yeah, right. And what kids would be  okay with a guy they probably have met all of one time? Not me! Alvirah is like  an annoying, know-it-all, irritating version of Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and  every other child's mystery story hero. She pops in and starts bragging about  all the cases she's solved and acting like she owns the world. I don't see how  anyone could stand her--she drove me nuts from her cheesy back story to her  stupid "sunburst pin" cassette tape (that must be one heck of a small  cassette--or one heck of a big pin!). And the bad guys are complete doofuses,  which leads me to...&lt;br /&gt;3. PLOT: The audience knows from the moment they are  introduced to The Bad Guys (which is on page 10) that there is no way in hell  that Luke and Rosita will not make it out in time for Christmas. These guys are  so dumb. Petey talks like a child. C.B. is so smart...all his ideas came out of  the latest Sue Grafton or James Patterson novel! Whoopee! Not to mention that  there really isn't any mystery. We meet The Bad Guys 10 pages into the book and  are robbed of the only other means of asserting a mystery in this horrific  holiday hoax--if The Bad Guys get away. However, all the "Will  *fill-in-the-blank* be home for Christmas?" remarks are a dead give-away that  the end will be another "happily, ever after". Lastly, the romantic element is  cheesy, corny, and stupid. Fred wants to stick around Rosita after two dates and  taking care of her kids for two days? Regan falls for Jack after two days during  which her dad is kidnapped? I mean, come on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dialogue/Sexual  Situations/Violence:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mild. Sparse usage of da** and other foul language.  Hugh Hefner is brought up. Men hold guns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe  I would not like a Mary Higgins Clark book. Throughout the entire time I read  this, I felt like I had read better books when I was 10. If you get this for  Christmas, give whoever sent it to you a bag of coal, even if they do get the  better end of the deal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-1563892189018524615?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/1563892189018524615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/deck-halls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1563892189018524615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/1563892189018524615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/deck-halls.html' title='Deck the Halls'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Sj5jG9gWNlI/AAAAAAAABIU/PTA-6v_N5fs/s72-c/deck+the+halls.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-3934297202262830329</id><published>2009-06-03T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T18:24:42.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Conqueror by Kris Kennedy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51zQ%2BtSXjvL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51zQ%2BtSXjvL.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Judging by the cover, I knew it was a fluffy romance going in to it but I did see a good review on &lt;a href="http://dearauthor.com/wordpress/2009/05/07/review-the-conqueror-by-kris-kennedy/"&gt;Dear Author&lt;/a&gt; so I decided to take the plunge. It started off well enough, set towards the end of England's Civil War between Stephen and Maude, our heroine the daughter of a recently deceased Earl on the run from the Evil Baron who wants to force her into wedlock meets up with Tall Dark and Handsome Hero who saves her from the baddies in the nick of time and *sigh* true love begins. Pretty much your same old same old fluffy romance plot, some nice banter at first between them and despite some glaring discrepancies I thought I'd do OK with it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then in the midst of the Dark and Stormy Night that went on and on and on as our heroine (hair flowing freely and unattended by any ladies whatsoever) escapes from the Evil Baron's clutches by saddling a warhorse &lt;strong&gt;all by herself&lt;/strong&gt; and slipping out of London undetected (!!) until she's thrown from her horse in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the Evil Baron's Evil Knights - but never fear Studly Hero to the rescue of our damsel in distress. Now remember all these events take place during a long October evening (I know the nights are longer that time of year but still!) - hero takes lady to some safe house and he rides to a castle to conspire against King Stephen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course our heroine can't stay put and wet and bedraggled she gets herself a horse and rides out and ends up at the same castle our hero is at. She's greeted by the owner, no wife or other woman in sight and is taken to a bedroom by the male owner - no woman of the household to escort this earl's daughter. No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;indeedy&lt;/span&gt;. Of course our hero accidentally runs into her, they suck face and then escape and he takes her to an old Saxon stronghold (gad, there's a lot of castles within horse-ride range, aren't there?), where he meets up with his cronies working to support Henry's bid to bump Stephen off the throne. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whew, tired yet? Maybe they had horse freeways back then for speedy night travellers. Maybe it was the medieval 'burbs' and all those places were right around the corner from each other. Oh hell, it's only a romance so I'm not supposed to nitpick and I determined to slog through it all until........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 476px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 476px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.encarta.msn.com/xrefmedia/sharemed/targets/images/pho/t978/T978595A.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.....the prose turned the most awful shade of purple as the two lovers shared the bed starting at page #133,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He slid a wicked hand under her waist and lifted her hips into his. Hot, sizzling spurts of fire burgeoned in her womb. More. She wanted more."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Onto page #134,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"He slid his hands over her hips, down to her trembling thighs. Pushing them ever so slightly apart, he slid his fingers up her inner thigh, until he hovered against the pink folds dripping with slippery juices."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gag me. Onward,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"His confident fingers searched...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Confident fingers. OK....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Page #263 and he's backed her up against a wall in the castle, lifted her hips up and we have this, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Leaning forward, he ran his tongue along the hot, wet seam of her womanhood........Dizzy with victory he slid his hand up and glided gently along the hot, pink seam, plied back her folds and licked again.......She erupted in a howl of such pleasure he almost spilled himself......He spread her apart further with his fingers and nuzzled deeper into the hot slippery cave of pulsing pink flesh.....She flung her head back so hard it hit the wall, her fingers restlessly tugging in his hair, a whimpering-wet goddess of passion."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"She flung her head back so hard it hit the wall". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Heh&lt;/span&gt;, once again we have a whole new definition of wall banger, which is what I hereby christen this book as I throw it across the room. If all you're looking for in your historical romance is a prettified wall paper setting book and plenty of over the top sex then this book might suit, but if you want a bit more substance in your romance I'd search elsewhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-3934297202262830329?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/3934297202262830329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/conqueror-by-kris-kennedy.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3934297202262830329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3934297202262830329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/06/conqueror-by-kris-kennedy.html' title='The Conqueror by Kris Kennedy'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-8812205299990199789</id><published>2009-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T13:57:21.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just how bad can it be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41aujPnIRbL._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41aujPnIRbL._SS500_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You tell me, but I found the sex and the purple prose in &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Royal-Blood-Rona-Sharon/dp/0758228589/ref=cm_cr-mr-title"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; one so bad that I'm bringing it back for an encore. Starting at page #441:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Renee shut her eyes and wheeled her thoughts away from the gentle battering her ramparts were undergoing........Pleasure whammed her as the slow fingers slid deeper, parting the florets, and rubbed her slippery, throbbing flesh to blissful relief. She cried with helpless excitement as his thumb circled the seat of her delight with tantalizing patience intended to prologue her climactic, gratifying convulsions, rendering her soft and pliant for his designs. Oh, this was heresy. Her faithless body, enchanted with a lustful vampire, melted in anticipation of ravishment; her over-emotional mind filled with wonder and yearning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael groaned at the dewy invitation. He spread the warm moisture around her corolla, making her crave his ultimate possession. He plunged two long fingers inside her and hooked them to stroke an astoundingly, marvelously tender spot. Sweetness welled up in her with shuddering force. Bubbles eddied and rippled and burst in a radiant unending flow of contentment. Her inner muscles fluttered and pulsed around his fingers, the rapturous sensation saturating her whole being. His thumb swirled around her little hill of Venus, pressing, insisting, and swiftly milking another whirlpool of jolting pleasure that shot to the tips of her hair and fingernails. She fizzed and juddered, sobbing as the flow descended upon her.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, had to go look up corolla at &lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/corolla"&gt;dictionary.com&lt;/a&gt;. Oy vey. Had enough yet or would you like to read more? Same page:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'He lifted his glistening hand to her view, resting his chin on her arm......He presses his fingers to his nose, inhaling deeply......."Your natural perfume intoxicates me, did you know that?"'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No this isn't a romance they're telling us, it's historical fiction. On to page #442:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'He playfully bit her bottom and laughed at her fulminating yelps. He splayed his hand on her back and gently pushed to arch her spine so that her bottom thrust upward. He clasped her thighs, knelt down, and put his mouth to the flower of her sex. Squeaks of mortified excitement trilled her throat as he sucked the river of fire between her legs. He opened her with his fingers to grant him better access and rumbled like a bear lapping at a bowl of honey. His tongue rasped, licked, and titillated her Venus sweetness........'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fulminating yelps and Venus sweetness. I am not going there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Michael shoved a clever finger inside her, lit the fuse, and the gun went off, explosively.......'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF is a clever finger as opposed to a finger that's not clever? I think this is my favorite though,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'"Whoa..." Michael murmured in awe. "Volcano of honey"'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gag me. Never fear it gets even worse on page 443:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In her senseless lassitude, she felt the thick, blunt head of his turgid penis prodding her sex......His hand reached down between them to lightly tease the little hill of Venus into granting him admittance.......Her body, lubricious and supple from her erotic, all-dissolving lovemaking, played lascivious traitor; she could do naught but succumb to the imposed intoxication of the senses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what they're calling a historical novel and not just a romance? I'm a believer, are you? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-8812205299990199789?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/8812205299990199789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-how-bad-can-it-be.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/8812205299990199789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/8812205299990199789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-how-bad-can-it-be.html' title='Just how bad can it be?'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-166203884605184381</id><published>2009-05-18T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T16:29:25.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Royal Blood by Rona Sharon</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/ca/46/8e65c0a398a05246bec50210.L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 348px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://g-ecx.images-amazon.com/images/G/01/ciu/ca/46/8e65c0a398a05246bec50210.L.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Touted as more than a historical romance, it's historical fiction - well researched and "a window into the daily life of the upper class of the time", and "The historical fiction novelist wears two hats: the storyteller and the historian. Every word must be checked, because back in 1518 they had different . . . everything! Even the English language was different" were a few bits I found on an author interview &lt;a href="http://booksandwich.com/2009/05/06/royal-blood-by-rona-sharon/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so this is serious stuff they tell me despite the cheesy cover. I'm not even going into the disparity between the birth date of the real Princess Renee (daughter of Louis XII), with the date this story takes place (ummm, she'd be eight by my reckoning), let alone a royal princess making whoopee with a mere painter. Want more? The French ambassador calls a Princess of the Blood a royal whore to her face. More? Unattended, she introduces herself to a strange man and only provides her first name. More? The only lady attending this Royal Princess is her old nursemaid, no maids of honor that I saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this plus over the top flowery prose consisting of way too much hitherto, heretofore and verily was enough to do serious wall damage - but this is the moment when the book flew, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Her hand found his codpiece and kneaded him artfully. "take me, take me,"she implored, yanking her sleeve down to bare a generous white globe. She put his hand on her breast and wiggled her thighs against his groins. The lady was afire!........Their joining was rough and urgent, pure lust, naught more, and Anne seemed to relish their shameless savagery. As she bounced in frenzied rhythm, her hips gyrating with increasing urgency, her mewing took on a high pitch." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Be grateful I edited some of the last out. It wasn't pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-166203884605184381?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/166203884605184381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/05/royal-blood-by-rona-sharon.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/166203884605184381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/166203884605184381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/05/royal-blood-by-rona-sharon.html' title='Royal Blood by Rona Sharon'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-37193852302751341</id><published>2009-04-23T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T20:51:33.111-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Historical Fiction'/><title type='text'>Lady of the Roses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfE0gwx02jI/AAAAAAAAA9c/n2Fr_G434dk/s1600-h/roses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfE0gwx02jI/AAAAAAAAA9c/n2Fr_G434dk/s400/roses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328097571610352178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"The moaning ceased, and there fell a silence that howled like an&lt;br /&gt;empty wind as it blew through us, changing everything,&lt;br /&gt;binding us together in a massive chain without shape or&lt;br /&gt;substance. Forged of grief eternal, this chain was more&lt;br /&gt;powerful than any steel, for it secured us in its black claws&lt;br /&gt;for all time and was never to be broken.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;p. 223 of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lady of the Roses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Howling silence? And WTF is an empty wind? Chains without shape or substance but with black claws?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book had the usual cast for this author: angels and devils, with hardly anyone falling in between. I can't say much more about it because I gave up about a third of the way through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-37193852302751341?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/37193852302751341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/lady-of-roses.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/37193852302751341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/37193852302751341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/lady-of-roses.html' title='Lady of the Roses'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfE0gwx02jI/AAAAAAAAA9c/n2Fr_G434dk/s72-c/roses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-7894443798465865023</id><published>2009-04-23T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T05:16:37.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n14/n70915.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 398px" alt="" src="http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n14/n70915.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gawd, with a cover like that to start with can it only go downhill from there? I was tipped off about this *fanciful* take on Margaret of Anjou from a couple of authors well researched in all things Wars of the Roses that this book might be worth a laugh or two. Since I didn't know when I'd get to it, I had a tip off to look at Chapter 13 and here's what I found when Margaret is making whopee with a French General,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"For Brezé had also served in the East, in his youth, and had long abandoned the Christian way of Love. Thus he made me kneel, my buttocks locked against his groin like some bitch on heat - but this I was, at that moment - while he seemed to impale me to my very stomach. All the while his hands were caressing my breasts until he took them away to grasp my hams until we shared a mutual explosion of joy - my second of the evening - in which I cried out my lubricious happiness and no doubt alarmed my ladies in the next room."&lt;/p&gt;Queens just have all the fun don't they? Now do I really want to go back and read the rest of this and see how truly bad it all is? Even for fun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-7894443798465865023?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/7894443798465865023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/gawd-with-cover-like-that-to-start-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7894443798465865023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/7894443798465865023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/gawd-with-cover-like-that-to-start-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-3941471340880621826</id><published>2009-04-22T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T18:30:06.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How in the h*** did this get past an editor?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51So2cDW8HL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51So2cDW8HL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/006168984X/ref=cm_cr_thx_view"&gt;Figures in Silk &lt;/a&gt;by Vanora Bennett. Although I understand my ARC was an uncorrected proof, this one was supposedly published in the UK last year so you have to wonder about who on earth let this stuff get past them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"She nodded back. Avoided Jane's eye. 'My lord,' she answered, with all the poise she could manage; then, neutrally to Jane's shoulder, aware of Jane's hand settling on Will Hastings' arm on Jane's waist; of the moist, hungry look in her sister's eyes: ... " (I think this was the day after Edward died) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When Hastings kept his temper, Dorset, unnervingly, began to stare at him. Jutting his jaw out. Leaning forward over clenched hands. Trying to stare Hastings down; the stare of a man with death in mind; holding the eye-lock for so long Hastings had thought he might pull out a sword then and there." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But, quietly but firmly, he moved her back. Turned away. Reached for his buckler, with muscles taut as wire again." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our own 15C Superwoman: "The important thing now was to stay calm; avoid getting rattled; take one step at a time. She was managing it all so far. Having Alice and the Prattes see the Italian workers today, for instance. Tomorrow, visiting the princess and sewing in her new laces for the violet silk gown. After that, snatching another hour with Dickon on the way back. Then innocently chatting with Will Caxton at his gate about her time with the princess. It was all possible, if you kept your head. It could all work." Whew, thank goodness there's no kids to take to soccer matches. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here our silk merchant Isabel is having an intimate (!!) conversation with the Princess Elizabeth who has told her she's going to marry Henry Tudor: "She shook herself. 'Well, so....what's he like, your future husband?' she said, trying to look and sound warmer without saying anything overtly treasonous" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Isabel having a conversation with R3 about the rebellion and looming battle: "She said, doubtfully, thinking of all those armies blundering around different parts of the West Country, trying to meet up. 'Well, it seems...messy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Messy???? Gawd, what a mess of a book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-3941471340880621826?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/3941471340880621826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-in-h-did-this-get-past-editor.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3941471340880621826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3941471340880621826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-in-h-did-this-get-past-editor.html' title='How in the h*** did this get past an editor?'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-6685575020563909022</id><published>2009-04-22T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T17:40:17.205-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Western'/><title type='text'>One Thousand White Women (are cringing as they read this)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Thousand-White-Women-Journals/dp/0312199430"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Se-xd084mNI/AAAAAAAAA8o/LfIWIwzkbY0/s400/otww.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327672010190919890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excerpt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our bodies slid easily against each other, comfortable and familiar, the sulfurous water was warm and oily on our skins.  Have we not been sent to instruct the savages in our way of life?  Should this not include matters of the flesh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pages read before book collided with The Wall:  145&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-6685575020563909022?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/6685575020563909022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/excerpt-our-bodies-slid-easily-against.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6685575020563909022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/6685575020563909022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/excerpt-our-bodies-slid-easily-against.html' title='One Thousand White Women (are cringing as they read this)'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/Se-xd084mNI/AAAAAAAAA8o/LfIWIwzkbY0/s72-c/otww.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-3512624562427379338</id><published>2009-04-22T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T17:18:12.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heir Apparent Sheri  by Vangen-Ratcliffe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513D2hH-KCL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/513D2hH-KCL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you remember those campy sci-fi movies in the 50's that were so bad they were fun to watch?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Well, that's pretty much the way I had to look at this &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heir-Apparent-Sheri-Vangen-Ratcliffe/dp/0595345417/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1240403302&amp;amp;sr=1-2"&gt;book&lt;/a&gt; and certainly the only way I finished it (although I don't think the author intended this to be a satirical farce). The basic premise sounded interesting for readers looking for an entertaining time slip of a book - masons working at Hampton Court in 2070 find a woman's body and a letter that leads them to believe that she was Henry VIII's mistress and pregnant and they're off to the past to bring her back and give England the heir it so desperately needs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, typos on almost every page -- you instead of your, now instead of know, there instead of their, ware instead of wear, you're instead of your, 5:00 shadow and then two pages later it's five o'clock shadow -- get the picture? Want more? The emergency kit brought along by Kaitlyn was priceless - "her tried and true pink and blue plaid pajama pants with their matching pink tank top", biscuits, diet cola, chocolate, tampons, anti-bacterial soap and lice killing shampoo (I did not need to read about the other part of her body that needed shampooing). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More? The flat out hands down winner that had me on the floor laughing was when our intrepid heroine displays her skill in martial arts and karate chops Henry's guards when they attempt to arrest Colin. One of my favorite quotes: "Without hesitation, Henry snapped back into king mode, hastily slipped through the door, sans shirt, with his breeches half opened, barely containing his thwarted..." (I won't use the word but it starts with an "e").&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-3512624562427379338?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/3512624562427379338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/heir-apparent-sheri-by-vangen-ratcliffe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3512624562427379338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/3512624562427379338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2009/04/heir-apparent-sheri-by-vangen-ratcliffe.html' title='Heir Apparent Sheri  by Vangen-Ratcliffe'/><author><name>Misfit</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05791628901417307647</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iLa7R_eNLmQ/Se-tlVtkLPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5INdQaGZ4_k/S220/Misfit+Snap.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386207269668735598.post-4143515812934313419</id><published>2008-04-23T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T18:10:24.307-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chit chat'/><title type='text'>Calling all book bloggers (and readers)!</title><content type='html'>Read a corker lately?  Want to save the rest of us from experiencing the actual physical pain you felt whilst reading it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now you can and without worry of an author or publisher burning down your house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply write your review (be sure to include excerpts and specific examples!), email it to us (ShelfofShame@gmail.com) and we will post your review anonymously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be afraid.....Cut loose and tell us what you really think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfERZYyOLcI/AAAAAAAAA9E/taW74iJTzqk/s1600-h/bad+book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 350px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfERZYyOLcI/AAAAAAAAA9E/taW74iJTzqk/s400/bad+book.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328058962003504578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8386207269668735598-4143515812934313419?l=shelfofshame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/feeds/4143515812934313419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2008/04/calling-all-book-bloggers-and-readers.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/4143515812934313419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8386207269668735598/posts/default/4143515812934313419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shelfofshame.blogspot.com/2008/04/calling-all-book-bloggers-and-readers.html' title='Calling all book bloggers (and readers)!'/><author><name>Michele at Reader's Respite</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04873109350235219509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SMbpl2GYmPI/AAAAAAAAAAU/a9vmjIYTHRw/S220/1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7wd12zq5Tos/SfERZYyOLcI/AAAAAAAAA9E/taW74iJTzqk/s72-c/bad+book.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
