The Initiation Of Ms. Holly by K.D. Grace
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

I think it’s a damn shame more men don’t get accosted on trains. Ladies, you’re missing out on one hell of an opportunity. And fellas…what the hell? We need to rectify this situation immediately. If you’re a woman, you should strut like it’s your birthday…every single day. Having confidence is the key, and that confidence just might lead to more men being shoved into bathrooms and waylaid in sleeper cars. There’s a reason God created man first: If God had started with Eve, he would have clapped his hands together and said, “I think we’re done here.” Fellas, we wouldn’t even be a blip on the intergalactic radar. And it’s all because women have bodies that just don’t quit. Even God knows this.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say THE INITIATION OF MS. HOLLY was written by a teenage boy. A teenage boy who wrote frantically, pounding away at the keys like some untamed beast, and grasping for every orgy and orifice he could think of. This was basically one long porn fantasy with dominance and subservience included for good measure. All the women were perfect with tits the size of watermelons, or smaller, perkier breasts with perfect precision and icicle nipples and tanned skin and luscious lips. Not that I can rightfully complain, mind you, but I felt like with every page I was about to get arrested, tossed in a government prison, and held hostage by some woman in a leather cat suit.

I like sex. But I was equal parts turned on and disgusted with this read. It was the equivalent of walking onto a porn set, and watching everyone from the actors to the producers to the lighting and sound guys humping away like there was no tomorrow. I mean, it might have been nice to have the sex actually come to a screeching halt and maybe even see a bit of character development. This doesn’t need to be literary fiction, but even an entire high school football team shoved into a brothel would take a few deep breaths or maybe stop to eat on occasion.

Instead of resembling actual people, the characters felt like pawns on a chessboard shoved into position for the next sex scene. In short, the characters reminded me more of animals humping in the wild than actual human beings.

If that’s your shtick, then by all means have at it, but I had hoped for just a wee bit more.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Wanted by J. Kenner
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

J. Kenner (aka Julie) has plenty of writing talent, and most of it probably goes unnoticed within the erotica genre. Before you paste a “kick me” sign on my back, and I run up and down the halls trying to figure out why feet are constantly being tossed in my direction and my ass is suddenly and inexplicably sore, just hear me out for a minute. While erotica has reached mainstream level (thanks Fifty Shades), I can’t help but feel it’s whispered about at parties in the dark, men may, or may not, be reading it, but most of whom certainly aren’t going to admit it, and if you sat on an airplane next to someone who was reading a book with a half-naked man or woman on the cover, who may, or may not, have her legs wrapped around the waist of some hunk of burnin’ love, you’d probably cringe and turn away, even if you had the same damn book at home on your shelf. That’s just the way it is. We’re a society of Puritans, while Europeans laugh at us from the other side of the ocean.

And so it goes for J. Kenner. She isn’t praised for her writing talents, even though they are displayed for the masses. But she’s probably not complaining, because the six figure advances show up like clockwork, her erotica trilogies are pushed out on a conveyor belt, and she’s smiling every time she cashes one of those paychecks. But the character development is there. Angelina Hayden Raine (aka Angie or Lina) has scars as long as a country mile to go with her body built for sin and an ass that keeps on giving. She’s tainted as all get out, but there’s still purity and innocence to her, and it creates layers people. Layers. Evan Black has abs that could bounce quarters and nickels and dimes all at the same time. But he’s not just some rich billionaire who is damaged goods, although he does have his own issues. Again, we have depth, and it makes for a more enjoyable ride in the saddle.

Sure, there’s sex, but it never feels overt or dirty or forced. These are just two people exploring the depths of their relationship, who just happen to fuck more than normal couples do. It’s natural damn it!

What I really liked about WANTED, and which made me want it even more, was that the story was self-contained. It doesn’t drag out or implode or create additional complications, just for the sake of conflict and complication (thanks again Fifty Shades). It doesn’t extend out to additional books, and there aren’t unexpected blips just so we can watch a man drink himself into a coma. When the curtain drops, it drops. And I’ll stand up and applaud.

While this is a trilogy, the second book HEATED revolves around Sloane Watson, an undercover cop posing as a stripper at Destiny, who may, or may not, grow rather attached to what Tyler Sharp has going on in his pants. It sounds like a winner. I just hope I can get a front row seat, because I’ve got my stack of ones ready.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Rock Me by Cherrie Lynn
My Rating: 2/5 Stars

There’s a fine line between erotica and contemporary romance, as this novel aptly proves. I’d say ROCK ME more than dips its toes in the erotica universe, but Amazon classifies this as contemporary romance (and we all know Amazon is always right), so of course, I want to strive to prove them wrong. But we’ll get to that a bit later. First, let’s talk about this particular piece of ass.

The story revolves around Candace Andrews. Come on down. She’s as pure as the driven snow, blonde, with a little junk-in-the-trunk, and disciplinarian parents who focus on the Andrews name above the needs of their own daughter. Her lustful fantasy, on the other hand, has a temper, owns a tattoo parlor (gasp!), is covered in art and piercings, and he may, or may not, have an apadravya. Brian Ross, come on down.

More than just formulaic, this was a paint-by-the-numbers, stay inside the lines, and gosh, I sure didn’t see that ending coming. And, yes, this novel proves that I have nearly reached the end of my erotica purge, as it’s all looking a bit too familiar, and whiplash, déjà vu, and virginally pure blonde stalkers in red high heels await me at every corner wearing trench coats and not a whole lot else. It’s a rough life, but there’s only so much of this I can take before I burn out my retinas.

So you’d think I hated it right? And you’d be…wrong. Despite the formula, I really dug Candace, and couldn’t seem to get enough of her, even if she did frustrate, aggravate, and leave me begging for more. But that’s love, right?

Well, in erotica novels there’s always fucking, and to give you some idea, fuck and its various derivations are used no less than 98 times over the course of this novel. There’s also plenty of oral, a short-lived condom less encounter, and plenty of vanilla sex (by erotica standards). But we have to keep in mind the characters, and this felt dirty (like I needed a shower afterwards), and Amazon reviewers have used sexy, steamy, and hot to describe this read. Now, I don’t know about you, but that sounds like erotica to me. So suck it Amazon.

Restless Spirit by Sommer Marsden
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

Tuesday Cane wasn’t my favorite day of the week, even though I ended up liking her all the same. Our relationship proved a bit tumultuous at times, as she bounced between men with a slap happy insistence that caused my head to jerk about as frequently as a male teenager with ADD. She dialed 3825 (to copulate) so often that she must have had it preprogrammed into her phone at the top of her speed dial. And there was so much fucking and yanging the wang I wouldn’t have been surprised if my pages weren’t somehow lubricated.

RESTLESS SPIRIT could have been the name of a horse, or it could have been a metaphor for the way I felt as I devoured this book, the pages filling my fantasies six ways from Sunday, the days of the week flying by in epic and unexpected passion. The bare sex scenes heightened my senses to the point that I felt a part of the action, peering out of the bedroom closet with one eye focused on the prize, and There’s Something About Mary doesn’t have anything on the sticky hair scene contained in this novel.

Shepard Moore proved every bit as strong as Tuesday Cane, but I found Adrian and Reed Green a bit lacking in the strong and silent type department. Tuesday, however, proved plenty restless, and worked her way up and down the small town. If she didn’t hold a certain appeal that I can’t quite describe, her finger hovering over the eject button might have shown me the error of my ways, or caused a sad shake of my head. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll relish the wanton abandon contained within these pages, even as the ending was projected on my flat screen well before we reached the finish line.

All in all a fine read if you’re into that will she or won’t she sort of thing, but not one I’ll probably revisit anytime soon.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Control by Charlotte Stein
My Rating: 4/5 Stars

Don’t let the name Madison Monroe fool you. She’s one part Wicked Words bookstore owner, and nearly three parts badass. She’s into dominance, subservience, and just about anything in between. She has CONTROL issues and monogamy ones too, with a body built for sin, and an active imagination to boot. But if you can capture her attention, you may die butt naked with a smile on your face after emptying your spunk tank.

Putting theory into practice and with a file cabinet full of erotica tales, Madison’s one wicked lady, but neither of her male counterparts utter a single word of protest. In fact, once the action reached the bedroom, or the backroom, there were more than a few incoherent utterances, most of which would have been accentuated with exclamation points. And I couldn’t help doing the wave every time the sexual acrobatics stepped onto the printed page.

Sure, this novel was filthy and raunchy and messy and grubby, and I may have needed to spray myself down with a garden hose after finishing this tale, but that was why it had such a strong appeal. If you like it when the female cracks the whip and dominates you in ways you never thought possible, you might find yourself enjoying a wet dream or two at the end of this tale. Once the sex train ended, I wanted to hop right back on, and enjoy this fantasy ride all over again.

I received this book for free through NetGalley.

Surrender Your Love by J.C. Reed
My Rating: 3/5 Stars

After the cover of SURRENDER YOUR LOVE flowed through my feed a few times…well, let’s just say I was pleasantly intrigued with more than a hint of enticement. The dark cover and toned legs paired with the thigh high red leather boots more than held my attention. Those boots popped out of my screen like daisies in the snow, and I was left sticking my tongue out as I tried to catch the snowflakes. And I have once again been sidetracked by an erotica novel.

I have every intention of tearing through the mystery and thriller and literary universe only to veer off to the side of the road and stare up at the sky when one of these beauties comes along. That’s probably the best way to describe erotica: A pleasant distraction from the more serious, deeper reads that cover my Kindle and bookshelves. And for you frequent readers, you’re already well aware that I’ve been a bit more distracted as of late. But I can’t seem to help myself. Every time I meander my way back out, I’m shoved back in…and we’re off.

The dialogue proved more than a bit cheesy to me, especially when compared to other erotica novels. It wasn’t porn quality dialogue, but it served to pull me out of the story at times more than it managed to enhance character and character development. I even managed to chuckle inwardly a couple times, and not in a good way. But frankly I’m more interested in the characters, relationship development, and of course, the sex.

Part of my fascination stems from the fact that I couldn’t write a realistic sex scene to save my life. Women, who are much better at sex than men will ever be, write some mojo-inducing scenes that could make a stripper blush. And this novel certainly had a few, with once again, the male anatomy never looking so good. It’s probably safe to say at this point that erotica novels like to round up when it comes to the size of the male member.

Brooke Stewart proved interesting and intriguing, and it was hard not to appreciate her luscious curves. She’s more tormented than Jett Mayfield, and we actually learn the reasons for her anguished nature, albeit down the road a piece. I won’t spoil it for you, dear reader, but suffice it to say, it was a nice twist. Sure, she might be a little fucked in the head, but I actually cared about her. She was a character I could get behind, as I try not to grab her behind.

Jett, on the other hand, was the more committed of the two right from the get go, which was a nice twist. But then he managed to have the usual problems that trouble all men: six-pack abs, toned muscles, and several million dollars stuffed in a safe in Switzerland. And I lost a bit of interest at the size of his growing member.

We also have the tried and true and possibly overused relationship formula for many an erotica novel that began with Fifty Shades and continues to this day. I realize it’s easier to go with the conventional than chart new territory in this playground, but just once I’d like to see someone break the mold. I’d like to see a couple captured by some axe-wielding maniac, locked in a basement, and they have to fuck their way to freedom. Or maybe the friend, in this case it’s Sylvie, who as per the usual course has looser morals than our main protagonist, could have feelings for Mr. Six-Pack, sleep with him, and then our main couple has to work through that particular bucket of firecracker wielding monkeys. Let’s spice it up a bit, or in the case of the latter, flame it up a bit.

Aside from the sense of déjà vu and practically predicting the ending, I’d have to say it was an otherwise enjoyable read if erotica is your thing.

Fifty Shades Trilogy: Fifty Shades Of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker, Fifty Shades Freed 3-Volume Boxed Set by E.L. James
My Rating: 1/5 Stars

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY

If I didn’t already know FIFTY SHADES OF GREY started out as TWILIGHT fanfiction, I’d like to think I could decipher the code based on the myriad of similarities between the two novels. The following are a few examples (and by all means not a comprehensive list): a virgin main character; uber-successful parents on the boyfriend’s side; divorced parents, where the daughter lives with her father; a clumsy, melodramatic, younger than her years main character; a complete hatred of receiving presents; a pale complexion and dark hair, where everyone finds her attractive but she does not; extremely attractive, supposedly out of her reach boyfriend; gorgeous, friendly, graceful sister; complete avoidance of high risk activities, except in the name of love; drives broken-down automobiles fixed by mechanic friends; the elusive friend who is totally into her and perfect in many ways but she’s not interested; boyfriend tells her on multiple occasions that he’s not right for her and does everything he can to discourage her affection; and despite being a virgin, she is magically good in bed and a skilled lover.

Or in other words, what we have here is teenage fantasy supposedly based in reality, yet with TWILIGHT the reader already has the suspension of disbelief, since it’s a vampire/werewolf/human love triangle. With FIFTY SHADES OF GREY, the teenage fantasy plays out in real time and on the streets of Seattle and Portland, among other locations. Aside from the overuse of Fuck (like it holds some sort of deeper meaning) and mentioning way too many firsts, had both references been pared down to more manageable levels, the writing actually did hold a certain amount of appeal. Sure her ability to orgasm on command was a bit comical, and her number of orgasms in Grey’s presence could probably satisfy an entire church choir, but this is teenage fantasy after all, and in this regard it very much resembles TWILIGHT, although at least like any normal couple there was actual sex involved. In that regard, I must give E.L. James credit, because she literally held nothing back, and I was certainly entertained, if not a bit flabbergasted by the level of f*cking that took place in this novel without the benefits of those little blue pills.

Setting aside the teenage fantasy bit for a minute, the relationship between Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele was actually believable and intriguing, yet based on Christian’s propensity for subs and lack of ability to love, I did find it a bit comical that she broke up with him after three weeks or so because he wasn’t willing to profess his undying love and affection. So, yes, I’m intrigued to read the next book, and in fact, I’ve already started it, but my wife has told me it gets worse from here. So I approach the finish line with trepidation, but I vow to make it all the way through, one way or another, and I shall do it all in the name of scientific research. Yes, that’s what I shall tell the curiosity demon that harbors within me.

FIFTY SHADES DARKER

FIVE DAYS. A good alternative title for this series. Why? That’s the extent of the breakup of Christian and Anastasia. I’ve had goldfish when I was six last longer than that. Sure, short breakups can happen, mere hiccups in the game of life, but this one seemed forced, and the questions that hadn’t been answered before the breakup certainly weren’t answered when the two of them got back together. It was like a high school crush that suddenly turned into a high school crush again, and based on the relationship and its ramifications, the two lovers deserved something more. As readers we deserved a little bit more.

As for the sexual encounters—and FIFTY SHADES DARKER certainly had plenty of those, not that I’m complaining mind you—they reminded me of a conductor with a baton, leading up to some dramatic crescendo or climax. Every. Single. Time. The batting 1.000 climax did strain my believability just a bit, which led me to the following question: What percentage of women climax from penetration alone? This book certainly led me to ponder questions of the universe like this, and being a guy, I don’t have a definitive answer. All I know is Anastasia reminded me of a fembot with machine gun jubblies and a platinum vagina who was wetter than the Euphrates and comes on command. Not that this is a bad thing if your setting is an alternate universe with alien life forms, then you can certainly make up your own rules. Since this setting is the real world, though, the FIFTY SHADES OF GREY trilogy should be grounded in some semblance of reality, not a teenage fantasy with twenty-something year olds with raging hormones.

Even the conflict felt forced to me. There wasn’t enough conflict to sustain a 544 page novel, so it became artificially created, like the alternate universe that might have been a better setting for this novel. Anastasia’s three main sources of conflict—Leila, Elena (Mrs. Robinson), and Jack—could have been stronger villains. Instead, the three felt like shells of what they could have been and felt artificially created to sustain this novel. We’re developing some sort of theme here, aren’t we? Anyway, give E.L. James credit, because she recognized that conflict was needed, but this was bad conflict. And it could have been much better.

Probably the single most detrimental aspect of this novel, though, was the dramatic and abrupt change in Christian’s personality. For the first two-thirds of this novel, coupled with the entire previous one, we had 890 pages of Christian being Christian. He was strong, tough, distant, and probably a bit too beautiful for his own good, but I’m nitpicking here. In other words, he made this novel interesting, until he metamorphosed into some alien life form and became a submissive to Anastasia, all based on Ana threatening to leave. Which made absolutely no sense because she’d already left once before, for no really strong reason, thus proving her instability. Instead of manning up, like his character should have done, he dropped to his knees and stared at her with pleading, puppy dog eyes. I might have coughed up my Cheerios, had it not been over fourteen hours since breakfast.

I’m a little scared to read FIFTY SHADES FREED. Call it morbid curiosity, though. It’s like watching a train wreck on the news, because I can’t seem to look away.  But I will trudge onward. I will.

FIFTY SHADES FREED

I feel like I’ve been cheated in every possible sense of the word. Cheated out of a wedding, cheated out of the first two weeks of the honeymoon, cheated out of a relationship that hinted at so much promise yet managed to under deliver, cheated out of plotting and conflict and other writing techniques that were under-executed or done ineffectively, and cheated out of hours upon hours of my life.

If Christian Grey were an unemployed garbage man with six pack abs and a washboard stomach, I can’t help but think this wouldn’t have been a phenomenon, and there would have been no happily ever after for the Greys. No white horse, no cowboys, and no barebacked nude riding off into the sunset, which by the way, might have been a better ending for FIFTY SHADES FREED. At least it would have made the unbelievable sex seem a tad more believable. Yet, here we are with Christian, an emotionally distant, controlling, narcissist. And Ana is supposed to be the one to save him. Seems to me that is Fifty Shades of Fucked Up. With this trilogy, the feminist movement is dead, buried, and headed straight for Hell. But at least the kinky fuckery makes it all worthwhile, right?

As for the white roses, long flowing gown, picture-perfect wedding ceremony, that was relegated to the backburner, otherwise known as flashbacks, and the reader grabbed bits and pieces. It’s very similar to starving oneself for a week and then being handed a saucer-sized plate of cheese and crackers. Yeah, I would have passed out if I wasn’t already lying down waiting for the next tiny morsel to be tossed my way.

As for the first two weeks or so of the honeymoon, it’s like it never existed except for a bit of descriptive summary. But as long as you’re okay missing vital organs or vitally important parts of your life, because after all you blacked out after your tenth shot of Jose Cuervo Gold, then it’s okay to miss both your wedding and your honeymoon, which lasted much longer than a billionaire CEO and recently promoted editor could possibly manage without the help of either aliens or cloning or overly sympathetic bosses. Yeah, I’m not sure I’m buying it either.

Conflict avoidance has reached near panic level. Sure, conflict was there, but I had to dig for it like I was shoveling for my own grave, and then I was going to be tossed in afterwards with my hands zip-tied behind my back and spitting up dirt. Jack popped in for a brief interlude, after the conductor had already waved his magic wand, and Leila (who was probably consuming massive amounts of happy pills) and Elena, aka Mrs. Robinson, were literally nowhere to be found, unless a brief reference is counted as full-fledged character development. Yeah, I must have missed that memo in Writing 101. But Christian managed to nearly drink himself to death once he found out Ana was pregnant, so that could be construed as conflict, if that’s all you really have to work with.

If you’re willing to suspend disbelief (and I mean really suspend it to teenage hormonal fantasy level), then the sex scenes work perfectly. So at least E.L. James has that going for her.

Fifty Shades of Done.