Hello wild ones! I’m calling a cease and desist on numbering the blog, we seriously only have 3 days left in this year and since somehow I managed to mess the system up royally, we’ll just do without them.
I often worry I want to much out of life. I want to have money, but not have to work. I’d like to have a great body and still eat the crap that I do and not work out. Oh gosh, maybe those weren’t the best examples because they kind of just make me sound uber lazy…for clarification, I don’t mind work, I guess it’s more that I don’t like the work I currently do.
Anyway, what preempted that little confusing opening was a book I read last week. Neanderthal Seeks Human by Penny Reid caught my eye right away from the mound of trash that is my recommendations via Kindle. I thought the title was cute and the blurb was intriguing, so I snapped it up after reading the sample and devoured it Saturday night. And I guess my high expectations really kicked me in the ass with this one.
This wasn’t a great book by any means, I found it moderately funny and cute, but I felt it was seriously lacking in the passion department. Actually it was almost devoid of passion, which usually I’m okay with, however this particular book spent some time building out hero up as a semi-dirty talking dude and then just cut to back every single time they were going to hit the sheets. All we got were some make-out sessions and then the blinds were drawn.
My irritation worried me, still kind of does. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve become jaded by some of the raunchy stuff I’ve been reading, but honestly I think maybe it’s a combination of being just a bit spoiled and high expectations. I love cute books. Love sappy characters and scenes so cheesy they make my eyes roll. But I also want a little dirty sex, okay maybe not necessarily dirty sex, but sex at least. And maybe that’s just asking too much. Then again, if you’re going to tease me with some dirty talk you should at least have the balls to back it up with at least some foreplay…or one sex scene before you just cut to black and then have our heroine brag about the number of orgasms she had.
Maybe I just want a clear definition in my literature. Either it’s a romance/erotic novel or its a novel with a little bit of romance. I’ve ready plenty of books where there’s no sex at all and I’ve never been upset by it before, but if you’re going to write a freaking romance novel and then cut out the whoopie why even freaking bother? Am I being crazy? I hope someone out there agrees with me. Please don’t tell me I’ve just turned into a perv. Oh god…I’ve turned into a perv haven’t I? Shit.
Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!