June 2016 - Lizbeth Muses

Her Sinful Angel by Felicity Heaton (3 out of 5 stars)*

Generally speaking, I don’t like Paranormal Romance. It’s simplistic, badly written, and full of stereotypes. Also, it often has elements I find deeply disturbing. I have seen rape and torture glorified and used as romance elements, heroines with a death wish that are every thinking woman’s nightmare, male heroes that behave like crack addicts dying from testosterone poisoning, and more insta-love that I can stomach. But. I still read this genre because I can’t really help it. It’s like standing in the aisle of snacks in the supermarket, and looking at the most disgusting, artificial flavour and colour, fake cheese greasy eeewww sticks, and buying the biggest pack you can find. It’s every dietician’s and trainer’s worst enemy, it’s something that you will regret eating, it’s the epitome of “once on your lips, forever on your hips” junk food. BUT. You crave the damn things. You want to eat them. You NEED that cheesy, disgusting, greasy, full fat, salt and calorie nightmare. You know you’re going to stuff your face and have yellow teeth and nails and indigestion for three days, but you want them, and you’re going to have them, and may God help anyone who tries to stop you. That’s EXACTLY my relationship with Paranormal Romance. I know it’s bad, I know I am going to regret reading it… But I want it. It’s a guilty pleasure that more often than not, I don’t enjoy. But I need to try to make sure, because, you know, this time it might be different.

Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s review this one. Actually, Her Sinful Angel was a pleasant surprise among the usual rubbish. Needless to say, lots of corn, cheese and growling in the ingredients. I mean for fudge’s sake, the devil falls in love with a mortal woman. Duh. So:

Insta-love, check.

Tragic male hero, check.

Tortured heroine, check.

A bad boy who’s in reality a big softie who loves to be bossed around in bedroom, check.

Plausible? Yes. Don’t expect scientific research or anything… But a lot more plausible than others of the same genre.

Easy to read? Yes, the language is good and the text flows without distracting the reader.

Sex? Plenty, although to be honest I didn’t care much for it.

A bit simplistic? Yes, but if you’re looking for something mentally challenging, try Nietzsche.

So with these in mind, if you like your male heroes dark, powerful, tortured and dangerous and your heroines with a bit of backbone and compassionate, grab this one. You’ll enjoy it. I didn’t feel cheated when I finished it and believe me, for me that’s an exception with this genre.

*My star rating and what it means:

Zero stars: Why me?!? I do come across books that aren’t really books, but brain damage in disguise. For reasons you can all understand, I won’t be publishing reviews on them. I tend to become enraged and say things I later on regret.

One star: Meh… I didn’t like it and won’t be keeping it. It might be the book, or it might be me. I’ll try to clarify in my review.

Two stars: Average/ Okay. Either the kind of light/ undemanding book you read and don’t remember in a month, or suffering from flaws that prevented it from realising its potential.

Three stars: Better than average. Good moments, memorable characters and/ or plot, maybe good sense of humour… Not to die for, but not feeling like you wasted your time and money either.

Four stars: Wow, that was good! Definitely keeping it and checking to see what else I can buy from the same writer.

Five stars: Oh. My. Goodness. The kind of book you buy as a gift to all your friends, praise to random strangers on the bus, and re-read until the pages fall out and the corners are no longer corners, but round.

Image: http://richestcelebrities.org/richest-actors/ian-somerhalder-net-worth/

So last night I am about to have sex with Ian Somerhalder. We are all over each other, kissing and fondling, and sweet baby Jesus and Buddha serene, he’s criminally handsome. He’s got that evil twinkle in his unbelievable, transparent blue eyes, and he’s flashing me his bad boy sideways grin, turning me into a useless heap of hormones. He’s just amazing, caring and passionate and just as rough as he should be, and I am trembling and kissing him and pulling him in my embrace like a woman possessed. He is entirely focused on me, doing everything he can to make me melt, generous in the manner of an experienced lover who puts the other person’s pleasure before their own. I feel the luckiest woman in the world to have his full attention. He’s just, oh hell, his hands feel so good on me, his body feels so hot and alive writhing under my fingers. His face was made to destroy women (and some men, I’m sure) and it’s all mine to kiss and feel and feast upon. There is only one word to describe the situation: heaven.

So, just as things are about to get from hot to steamy and what little clothing we still had on is going to be hastily discarded to the floor, my waking mind together with my conscience seep though. So I turn and say to him, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you married? You should go and talk with your wife about this, and then come back to continue.” And naturally, he stopped and I woke up.

GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I want to shoot me dead! I want to take a hammer and pound me unconscious! I’ve been snapping at people since I woke up. Any ideas why? 😛

Does any of you know a fail safe way to have the same dream two nights in a row? I won’t open my mouth this time even if I have to tape it to make sure. I mean look at this. I said no to this face. It was the only chance I had and wasted it. I’m sure if I try to dream of him again tonight, I’ll dream of my surly school headmaster yelling at me. It will serve me right.

Month: June 2016

Do not judge me by my need for cheese!

Hot sex with Ian Somerhalder