I could say Sara McMillan is as sexy as sin, but then I’d have resorted to a cliché, and I try to avoid them as much as possible in my line of work. But she could make a man drop his drawers, even without the inclusion of alcohol on said occasion. She does have a strong will to go with her soft body and succulent curves, but I’m probably getting a tad ahead of myself.
I’d like to tell you that this particular series hasn’t grabbed ahold of my wrist and yanked me into the midst of it, as I wade my way through the highs and lows of love gone awry, and a particular passion that seems more than just reserved for special occasions. But I’d have to call myself a liar, and I prefer to stick to the truth, and nothing but the truth.
Sure, BEING ME might have been filled with a cliché or two, and I can’t help but admit I was frustrated more than once as I waded my way through the saltwater with my head held high as the waves slapped at my thighs. But it was also filled with some decent writing, and more than one sex scene that hung me out to dry and left me hot and bothered and squirming in my seat. And the characters seemed to have a bit more flesh on their bones than the occasional skeleton in the closet that may or may not have appeared on the scene of the crime.
And it’s also entirely possible this story could have gone more than just a bit astray in the wrong set of hands with the wrong amount of passion at the forefront—and that particular series shall remain nameless here, as I know you can fill in the blank. But that wasn’t the case here. Michael appeared, and then Michael was quickly discarded, along with a father who was more absent than he was present for the party, but instead of turning this particular tale into Swiss cheese, it managed to add an additional layer or two.
So, yeah, this story (and series) more than captured my attention, and Chris Merit showed he could offer up more than just a flavor of the month, while Mark Compton might have had more than just a few screws loose in his closet. *BEGIN SPOILER* And Ava (not to be confused with Gardner) did find herself just a step removed from the insane asylum with her mode of transportation on red alert and the local authorities on standby. *END SPOILER*But it was all a part of the song and dance, and I was more than happy to listen to the band.
While some erotica series start to run out of gas around the end of the second novel, this doesn’t appear to be the case here. So, yeah, I’ll stick around for the third book, and possibly even the ones beyond it, and hope I’m proved right. But there’s also the chance I could be proved wrong. Still, there’s only one way to find out, and I do believe I’m up for the challenge. So as Barney Stinson would say, “Challenge accepted.”