Review: Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived In That House by Meghan Daum

I've had this one kicking around for awhile. I share the same disease as Meghan Daum, that of house envy. (There is nothing wrong with my home.) Since I was a child I've looked at other houses and thought "If I lived there I would be happier." It's led me to move across the country, across town, down the street. At this moment I can tell you three places I'd rather live and the prices on each, but I won't be moving again. (It's a property tax thing, I can't afford to move even if I downsized.) I understood what Daum's book would be about just from the title. So why didn't I finish it in a timely manner?

Life would be perfect if this was a slightly different book. While I totally identified with both her wanderlust and her desire to invent herself into a person she isn't, there wasn't much past that point to hold me. I read the first third quickly, then set the book down for months. Something brought it to mind and I sought it out again only to stop before finishing it. Today, while going through some notes, I realized I'd never completed the book and found it, bookmark intact. I had stopped six pages from the end. That's not a great sign. While I enjoyed the time I spent with Meghan, we weren't meant to be together.

It's interesting, there was a lot of buzz for the hardcover release (which had what I think was a terrible cover) and not as much for the greatly (visually) improved paperback. The Kindle version uses the hardcover image. In classic Agency fashion, the going rate (if not list price) for the paperback is lower than the Kindle version. (Way to kill those impulse buys, guys!) So perhaps my preference in cover design is completely off the market. Granted, the paperback cover is a little Mod, a little Retro, but the original cover was very Christian Inspiration to me, which the the book could not be further from. I wonder how the book feels? Does it cover shop and think it's sales would be everything if it only had a gatefold?

Review: A Lady's Lesson In Scandal by Meredith Duran

Meredith Duran is an interesting writer. She strikes me as a cross between Judith Ivory and Mary Balogh. Like Balogh, her books are often character studies where little happens externally. Like Ivory, her characters are quite realistic. In A Lady's Lesson In Scandal a lost child is recovered and given the Pygmalion treatment. But her childhood in poverty has made her stronger than the hero, not weaker. Simon has been raised in financial comfort but emotional poverty. As a result, he has found himself with few survival skills outside of his charm. A classic example of meeting the very low bar set for him, Simon keeps his depth hidden. Nell's hard earned need to read people before they strike out allows her to see there is something beneath his surface charm.

I'm surprised to find I have very little to say about Nell and Simon. I very much enjoyed their story. It's definitely on my short list for best books I read this year. (Maybe it's the broken ankle?) The issue of class was executed very well, as Simon's revulsion gives way to a realization of his own petty biases. Nell's anger at her change in circumstance, her refusal to relax her guard and her inability to refute her origins all ring true as well. A Lady's Lesson In Scandal is filled with the sort of small moments that make a character more than a momentary diversion. Nell absolutely found her way into my heart and if she wants Simon, she should have him. I hope there is a sequel in the works. At the book's close we are left with more questions than answers about Nell's separation from her family. It reads like a complete story, but one that leaves the reader wishing it had a few more chapters. If you missed this when it came out, hunt it down. It was absolutely worth the time.

Review: The Real Duchesses of London by Lavina Kent

 You know that Alanis Morissette song? The one you never liked but they played forever? The one that made "going down on him in a theater" sound like an even worse idea than it did before? (Honestly, did you hear her wail about public sex as anything but a mark of her desperation?) It's back and it's moved to London. I won't tell you which book it takes place in, but given that the other trots out the equally tired canard of the heroine only being able to relax enough for orgasm if she's bound to the bed, I am a bit afraid what book three will bring. Would a long series be forced to explore autoerotic asphyxiation?

That's my hesitation with The Real Duchesses of London. The premise of novellas based on the love lives and cat fights of a group of women is delightful. In fact, an episode in Linnette, The Lioness is one of the best scenes I've read in ages. The romantic conflicts are equally satisfying. The concept of their fame is a bit underdeveloped, I could see them having more street recognition, but still very engaging. For the price, they're a good length as well. Much as I enjoyed them, the sex seemed a bit forced by the end of Episode 2, as though part of the formula is for each heroine to have her own sex twist. I'd rather have cut half the sex and doubled up on the cat fights. Reading about one of the heroines being proud of her accomplishment (ie, swallowing) made me roll my eyes. That may just be me but if it's you too, be aware.

All of that said, I'd still recommend both. I did enjoy the twisted tale of friendship between the women and would have bought the third book immediately upon closing the second. While not perfectly sublime reads, they are original and fun. A great length for a lunchtime read and a good introduction to the author. In episode one, Kathryn is dealing with the aftermath of a miscarriage and her husband's loss of sexual interest since the event. For Lavinia, the problem is one of emotional interest. The return of her childhood love leaves her wondering if trust can be renewed.

For romance, I'd give the nod to Episode One. For catty enjoyment, I'd have to go with Episode Two. Either way, I don't think you'll go far wrong. (Just skip the theater that night, because at least one of them Oughta Know)

Review: Waking Up With The Duke by Lorraine Heath

* Note, Waking Up With The Duke will feel cluttered with characters if the reader hasn't read the prior books in the series. I think you can read Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman as a stand alone, and it would enhance Waking Up With The Duke.

My biggest disappointment with Waking Up With The Duke is the resolution of Ainsley's mother's relationship. I really think she could have carried a full book of her own. Granted, the 48 (ish) year old heroine isn't a big market but so much of her history was left unexplored that I think it would have been accepted. Sad faces aside, there is a lot to love in Waking Up With The Duke.

Heath starts by giving Ainsley, the brother who always does the right thing, a personal tragedy. In a drunken driving episode he has crippled his cousin and close friend. In the ensuing emotional aftermath, his cousin's wife Jayne lost her child. These are events neither Jayne nor Ainsley can forgive him for even three years later. From here, Heath takes one of my least favorite romance plots and turns it inside out. Jayne's husband wants Ainsley to knock Jayne up. Cause, you know, cousins is close enough for horseshoes in the inheritance game.

I've always hated the husband as pimp plot. Ten or twenty years ago it wouldn't have involved a DUI but a gay spouse. It wouldn't have been cousins, it would have been brothers. Heath takes some of the ick factor out of this tried and true situation by changing those small details first. Then she addresses the issues of consent and coercion as it applies to all parties, offering a look at the emotional costs of sperm donation via a month of sex. I respect the sympathy she makes the reader feel for all parties involved - but I was regretful that Ainsley is let off the hook toward the end. Also, Jayne's belief that holding a child is the most magical of magical moments needed a sharp reality smack later in the book which does not arrive. (As women writing for women why can't we also show that motherhood is not always easy, even with wanted children or good mothers. Birth is not a short track to bliss. Bonding is not always instant, birth pains are not so quickly dismissed, especially before the epidural.)

Heath delivers a high angst level as Jayne and Ainsley ricochet between the emotional blows they deliver to themselves as well as those delivered by her husband. Toward the end of the book Ainsley's mother is forced to choose between her own lost love and her mysterious younger lover. Unfortunately most of her resolution takes place away from the reader - Leo's background is not revealed nor is the triangle properly dismantled. Through this series I have found the emotional honesty of Ainsley's mother sometimes more compelling than that of her sons. It is she I am most sorry to say goodbye to, as much as I loved the individual books.

Review: Lord Langley Is Back In Town by Elizabeth Boyle

I normally don't write a spoiler filled review on such a recent release but Lord Langley Is Back In Town was such a crushing disappointment that I feel the need to make an exception. Ok, let's break it down for those who wish to remain spoiler free. I did not like Lord Langley, I did not like the deployment of the Nannies, I did not like the reinvention of Minerva, I did not like the breathtakingly cruel way Lord Langley treats his daughters, I did not like the central mystery and I most certainly did not like the return of the hermetically sealed heroine.

Other than that, the book was great. I mean, if you don't care about any of that stuff you'll be fine. You've got spies and shooting and nefarious plots and situational amnesia and duels and betrayals and all that sort of stuff. You could probably turn your mind off and enjoy Lord Langley Is Back In Town. As for myself? Well, Spoilers Ahoy Me Mateys, Here Those Spoilers Be.

Let's start things rolling with Minerva. We've known Minerva (from the prior books) as being wound far too tight, disapproving utterly of Lucy for her low beginnings, an absolute stickler for propriety and a general stick pushed firmly in the mud. Why is Minerva this way? (Really, it's spoiler time, I am not kidding around here!) Because she is actually her half sister. Yes, our Minerva is secretly not Minerva but instead the daughter of the cook who may or may not have also been a murderess. All her starchy ways have just been overcompensation during her masquerade. (I know!) She kept the diamonds from Lucy (and later Felicity) not because Lucy was common, but because she liked them so much. Right. Moving on, the reason Minerva is impersonating her sister is that her sister ran off to marry Minerva's boyfriend forcing their father to substitute his similarly aged bastard for the blue blood said sister's fiance never really met. Which Minerva agreed to do because - I don't know. But she did. And he was old and smelly and couldn't get it up. So! Despite being of lower bastard birth and having the sort of boyfriend that runs off with your sister and being a widow, Minerva is a virgin for our hero Lord Langley! He won't catch anything from her! She's been saved for his protection.

On the other hand, Lord Langley has banged half of Europe, with the utterly charming (read sociopathic) hobby of introducing lovers to his twin daughters as Nannies. The Nannies have appeared, having realized that he isn't dead, and barge into Minerva's home to await his arrival. Why is Langley going to Minerva's house? So they can meet of course. There is a tedious story of Langley having to hide in plain sight and figure out who betrayed him and blah blah blah but I will leave you something to discover on your own. I'd rather talk about Langley and the Nannies. Mostly, they are jokes instead of women. There is one exception (Jamilla) but Langley primarily does what every man lucky enough to get a hermetically sealed heroine does - he looks at his former lovers with distaste and disbelief. Not long standing friends, he and these women. No, because that would make them Real People. A Real Conversation between Langley and the Nannies would rip open the plot (such as it is) and cut about a hundred pages. So, the Nannies are just comic relief or something.

What about Langley's daughters? Has he told his twins he is alive? I really feel for those girls, actually. Given their father's paramours as Nannies, dragged hither and yon by his spy career, dumped alone at boarding school by a certain age and then told he has died in disgrace - it hasn't been sunshine and roses for Felicity and Thalia. Sure, they've got mad skills in all sorts of unlikely places, but their mother is dead and their father isn't available to them. You can't excuse that by writing a scene where he carries their letters by his heart even through French prisons and murder attempts. Those girls have had it rough. This makes the ending of Lord Langley even more breathtakingly cruel. Having cleared his name at last, does Lord Langley settle down to be a doting grandfather or apologetic father? Does he step back from the adventures that cost him and his daughters so much in life?

Of course not. He takes his wife, Minerva, and travels to China for years. Felicity, his more troubled daughter, undertakes a renovation of his townhouse in an attempt to please him. Is her reward his happy face? No, it's finding out that she has three half brothers born during his travels. Half brothers he and Minerva wrote to her sister about, half brothers everyone in the family thought it best to keep from her, to just surprise her with. Is it any wonder Felicity is a bitch of a control freak? How does she look at his face without bursting into tears on a regular basis? How does she not slap Thalia across a room? Making this HEA even less of one, the new family plans to settle down at the family estate - the same family estate they promised not to evict another family from, a loyal family that was of great service to Lord Langley until he had sons and wanted to raise them.

I think Elizabeth Boyle and I are going to have to break up.

Review: Homemade Soda by Andrew Schloss

You know how some things once known cannot be unknown? That's how I feel about the ingredients for Cola and various Root Beers. Thinking about drinking Kitchen Bouquet Browning Liquid makes my rejection of commercial soda all the more sincere. I'm a changed woman. (Ok, on vacation I am totally going to relapse. Let's be honest.) Homemade Soda sometimes gave me that feeling you get watching an evening news report on food standards for your child's chicken nugget versus Fido's pet food.

Sure, it's called 7-Root Beer, but actual roots? Carrots and parsnips and licorice? I think I'll go back to Grapefruit Soda, it tastes like a Fresca without the artificial kick in the finish. Strawberry Pineapple Soda is ridiculously easy to make the syrup for. Homemade Soda has the right combination of accessible and outrageous. I like a cookbook that blends things I can make tonight with things I'll never make but tell myself I'll try next weekend, or maybe the one after but certainly by the end of the month...

Graphically, the book is beautiful. The font and layout has a strong early seventies feel which is an emotional heyday for me and soda. Schloss gives clear and careful instructions for a variety of methods, from a simple mix with seltzer to using a siphon or fermenting your own concoctions. I think this is the next foodie craze - can you imagine throwing a party where all the mixers or soft drinks were made in your own kitchen? Go ahead and cater the main course, everyone will still talk about your mad kitchen skills the next day. Especially if you mix up a batch of Blazing Inferno Chile water. Homemade Soda is comprehensive, fun and beautifully designed. I'm going to be using it as a gift book this year, as I continue my crusade against waste by urging everyone to give up commercially bottled beverages.

Review: Just Like Heaven by Julia Quinn

Once, a long time ago, before we had children or houses or (in one case) name recognition, Julia Quinn used to stop by periodically and offer me some of her pretzel bites. (They were delicious.) It's not that we know each other, it's that we were of similar age and I was selling shoes near where she was putting 'Autographed By Author' stickers on books across the state. I don't actually know Julia Quinn, but I do know she has some serious marketing chops and a wicked sense of humor. What she does not have is a shoe habit, which I respect. (I was not selling particularly attractive shoes.) From her pen name to her section of the genre, Julia Quinn has made a number of very smart career choices. (And one misfire, but let's leave Wyndham out of this.)

As an earlier adopter of interconnected series and e-book shorts, she's proven to be an adaptive and interesting author who consistently delivers. Comedic romance is something that looks easier than it is. I can count the number of romance authors who have made me laugh during a book on two fingers. One if you only count authors who are still alive.

I laughed twice during Just Like Heaven because Julia Quinn's ear for the sort of trash talking conversations that close cousins have is pitch perfect. (Unlike the Smythe-Smith family who wouldn't know pitch if it came with a personalized calling card.) As a running joke through the Bridgerton series, the Smythe-Smith musical evenings are the sort of mind-numbingly bad recitals that any parent of a preschooler is familiar with. The sort where you begin to suspect that if the child really is a teapot, she cracked long ago. Breaking the Smythe-Smith's out into their own series is inspired. With an explanation for their family tradition finally in hand, the reader is ready to meet another close knit group living in a Lady Whistledown world. We were all a bit lost when we ran out of Bridgertons, let's admit it.

Joining Honoria Smythe-Smith is Marcus Holroyd. An only child to break other only children's hearts, he is the older brother's best friend to her annoying younger sister. It is only natural that his longing for Honoria was obscured by his longing for her family. Just as it was natural for Honoria to assume that her easy relationship with him was born of proximity instead of preference. While I am not a fan of The Big Health Crisis or the Secret Guardian plots, both of them are lightly combined to make a very engaging way of bringing Marcus and Honoria to the truth. In this case, the truth is that Julia Quinn's warm family comedies are a unique and much needed section of my romance shelf. All hail the Smythe-Smiths and long may they reign. (Soundtrack thankfully not included.)

Review: Guarding A Notorious Lady by Olivia Parker

I'm not a fan of this one. Maybe it's because I read it directly after Julia Quinn's upcoming (and exceptional)  Just Like Heaven, but I think it's primarily because the entire plot of Guarding A Notorious Lady depends on a failure to communicate. There was nothing memorable about the book. I'm going to have to look the characters' names up or call them Whatshername and MaybeNicholas. (Rosalind and Nicholas - got one right.)

There are certainly moments in this book that hint at what could have been. In one scene a group of debutantes are contorted on chaises trying to look up a kilt. In a better book, that could have stood out. Unfortunately, this isn't a better book. Rosalind is a matchmaker, which matters only as an avenue to point out her own unmarried status. She doesn't really make any matches during this book. In fact, she tries to fix her best friend up with a villain, so her matchmaking doesn't carry any weight for the reader. She isn't in the least notorious, title aside, unless you count her seven seasons on the market and a current wager as to who will win her.

Nicholas is just tedious. He's cranky, he's condescending, he alternates between dour and dim. Unless, of course, he's stripping her naked. Apparently Rosalind has been in love with Nicholas for seven years or more and Nicholas has been avoiding her. He agrees to look out for her while her brother is traveling because he feels indebted to the man. He spends a fair amount of time worrying about betraying her brother and a fair amount of time feeling Rosalind up, but the two events don't really align. His regret seems insincere and fleeting, which keeps it from being a true barrier to expressing himself to Rosalind.

Both of them have Daddy issues. Nicholas can't stand how his father fell apart after losing his mother, Rosalind can't stand her father's emotional distance. It's about the only thing, besides hormones, they have in common. I suppose muteness might also be a shared trait. Neither of them can just talk to the other, neither can ask the other how they feel. She can kneel between his legs, he can run his fingers down the front of her gown, they can get naked and have sex outdoors, but they can't ask if the other is interested in more. It just doesn't ring true. Your best friend's sister, the woman you've pledged to protect, and you're going to give her a bath with your tongue but not tell her why? Your brother's best friend, your secret love, you're going to let him sneak into your bedroom at will and not inquire what he thinks he's doing? It makes absolutely no sense unless you accept that two minutes of open conversation would blow the conflict out of the book. There is no conflict except a failure to speak. In order for the failure to speak to work, there has to be a compelling reason to keep silent.

There's an interesting frame here, but no painting. Rosalind is charming when we first meet her but she rapidly enters TSTL territory, or at least too spineless to tolerate. Nicholas could have been multi dimensional, but his libido turns him into a joke of restraint. The strong hints that her brothers have played matchmaker for her are too dimly indicated to work either. Even the late introduction of a villain plays the lack of communication card. Nicholas rages at Rosalind for going off alone with a stalker without having ever told her she has one. The HEA itself involves deliberate miscommunication. I have no idea how this pair would make it through the day. It seems as though a lifetime of needless resentments and unfounded assumptions await them.