Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Lookit, this book not only features a secret baby, but a secret baby that’s reunited with the heroine by a string of highly unlikely circumstances, AND it features an ending that smooths over the difficulties and minimizes the impact of what happened. I’m not talking about the social consequences--though that was handled in a rather distressingly facile manner as well--but the emotional impact on the family. From the father (who’s been lied to for over ten years not just by his beloved daughter, but by his wife), to the child himself--come on, the boy’s concept of who he was and where he came from has proven to be a complete and utter lie--the book dealt with all that juicy conflict in the space of a couple dozen pages. Double you tee eff, mate?

Let’s face it, the secret baby device is pretty damn hackneyed, even when done well--and I speak this as somebody who’s actually enjoyed secret baby books in the past, despite my tendency to treat it like a piñata--so why exacerbate it by making everything so pat? So easy? So--dare I say it--treacly?

It’s not as if I’m especially bothered by predictability or spoilers; in fact, I’m the sort of sick freak who’ll occasionally sneak a peek at the ending of a book and continue happily reading. But once the secret baby was introduced, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that the kid was going to show up later in the book, probably as a plot device to allow things to come to a head.

I didn’t especially enjoy being proven right on that score.

I’m not saying the heroine got off scot-free, or that the father didn’t display distress at being lied to. It’s just that the consequences weren’t enough, especially given the fantastic job Chase had done building the father’s character up and his connection with Charlotte--and really, the father, together with the villain were my two favorite characters in the book. Charlotte and Darius pretty much walked out of Casting Central in this one; in fact, I kept thinking of Charlotte as Whatsername from the moment I set the book down until I looked it up just a few minutes ago. They’re decent characters as far as they go, but they didn’t do much to make themselves memorable, and Charlotte, frankly, exasperated me when she started fucking Darius without agonizing over the consequences because GOOD GOD, WOMAN, HOW DID YOU THINK YOU GOT PREGNANT THE FIRST TIME? BY EATING TOO MUCH STRAWBERRY TRIFLE?

I also didn’t especially like the way the two of them fell in love so fast and so hard, given how the two of them are set up as these cautious characters who are all wary of love and marriage. The two of them really don’t get to interact all that much before they’re all goo-goo eyed (and loined) over each other. This aspect of the book, as with so many other aspects, felt rather slapdash and rushed. Not to say that there aren’t well-written whirlwind romances, some of them even featuring rather cynical characters, but I didn’t feel the spark in quite the same way I did with, say, Jessica and Sebastian in Lord of Scoundrels, or Daphne and Rupert in Mr. Impossible.

The rest of the book is passably well-written, because this is, after all, Loretta Chase we’re talking about. The banter is decent, and Charlotte and Darius spar amusingly, with a rather memorable scene in the library making me chuckle out loud. I just couldn’t help but feel that the book would’ve been vastly improved if, say, Charlotte had had to suffer the rest of her life not knowing what had happened to the child, or she and Darius had sparred more and had a relationship that had developed more slowly, or if we’d seen more of the fallout as a consequence of the bastard child Charlotte bore--in short, if the book hadn’t taken the easy way out so many damn times in a row.

I do have to mention that Chase did a great job with the secondary characters, because they take on a life and vividness that most other authors can only dream of for their main characters. Chase pulls off her characteristic inversion-of-expectations with the villain, a military man who, unlike the other suitors Charlotte has successfully brushed off, is smart enough to see through her tactics and deploy some novel tactics of his own. (Oh, would that Chase had done the same on the secret baby plot. Cry.) You’re set up to think he’s going to be an evil, evil bastard, but no, he ends up being a human. Fancy that.

When I put this book down, I thought “Meh. Yet another readable but predictable romance novel. Disappointing. B-.” But when I thought about the secret baby plot, the outrage at its squandered possibilities eclipsed my other reactions to the book, so I knocked it one down another half grade to C+. Then I re-read the irritating portions, and though still irritating, they really were quite well-written, so: back to B-. Verging on a C.

I checked a couple of other review sites and Amazon before making this review live, and it looks like most people loved this like it was their mama. So bring it, bitches! Tell me how wrong I am.

What did I like about this book? A whole mess of a lot. It’s not easy to put down, because much like Mayer and Crusie’s last book, it starts running and picks up speed. The many threads of the story and the ancillary characters that reappear keep the reader paying attention, but it’s not the kind of paying attention that’s exhausting. It’s more of a “can’t-wait-to-find-out-what’s-next” anticipation that keeps the reader involved. I stayed up WAY too late reading this book, and had to stop myself from sneaking chapters at work. It was that bad of a good book.

I liked Agnes, and could relate to her learning to be angry AND smart instead of just angry and full of rage, and I liked Shane, who had to learn to trust people and accept that he might be ready for a change in his life. Rooting for them was easy, and believing in their relationship was somewhat simple, though the reader has to accept a high-speed relationship because the rest of the book is moving at warp speed.

There were secondary characters I wanted to learn more about, and in one case, care more about. The mother of the bride, Lisa Livia, is a huge part of Agnes’ life, but their interactions left me with much less of a sense of Lisa Livia than the understanding I had of Agnes, and the uneven character development as far as those two women were concerned was a bummer. The secondary character stable of men was also a bit uneven.  I wanted to know more about Shane’s partner, Carpenter, because I was totally into him but never had a clear picture of him in my mind. Crusie and Mayer are, I think, deliberately skimpy on the physical descriptions, and seem to want the reader’s understanding of the characters to be based on exactly that: character. So it wasn’t like I was miffed that I didn’t get a “he looked in the mirror and his hair was an anthology of brown and copper, his eyes an anthology of hazel and green, fringed with anthological lashes.” Not at all. It was more like their backstory was half-painted and I wanted the rest because the completed parts of the depiction were so deep and fascinating.

But what has me really stewing - in a good way - on this book is that it’s not only a romance, a mystery, a mob story and an adventure, it’s also very, very much an examination of evil and gender. Without giving too much away, Crusie and Mayer play with the idea of what the reader will accept in terms of conscienceless, selfish, murderous and evil behavior, and from what characters that behavior can emerge without any gender-laden questions of stereotyped outrage.

I’m sure I’m not making a lick of sense here. Suffice it to say that there are several nefarious characters, and part of discovering who they are and what their motivation is (Selfishness? Insanity? Selfishness? Greed? Insanity? Or just plain conscienceless evil?) means examining your own expectations of motivation and hate superimposed on concepts of gender and sex. Further, the story makes me question whether my reaction of loathing to one character was heightened by at least some good memories of that character in Agnes’ recollections and by the chance that character might get a clue and stop being such a complete douchebag, while the dislike I had for other nefarious characters was less of a loathing and more of a slowly building expectation and anticipation of their being totally destroyed.

I finished the book this morning after a marathon 3-day reading spree that included staying up until way, way past my bedtime last night, and it more than cleansed my palette after reading that other book about savage booty. It’s certainly not a romance in the traditional sense, in that the protagonists’ relationship is not the ultimate center of the story, but the plot twists and surprises hinge on both their romance and the mystery that surrounds them and the rest of the characters. And their ultimate connection, as well as the rest of the story, is supremely satisfying.

“Misshi, you are in such deep thought. What were you thinking about, little sister, that made you smile so sweetly?”

No way dude. Do not ask what her thoughts were. I cannot handle an incest subplot. It’s only page 6.

“You, big brother, you.”
She reached over and placed a hand on his knee.
“Maybe I’d best not ask what your thoughts were, but you were smiling, weren’t you?”

For the record: I was not smiling

“It tears at my heart to know that such a man has my sister.” He would hunt down Chief Bear and kill the savage himself. If… she...was still alive!

Note: ellipses are for em...pha...sis....

...

“Son, your tepee awaits you. Foods that you kill will cook over the flames of the fires. I have taught you not only how to be a strong leader with the right morals, but I have also taken the time to teach you the art of cooking, since you and your braves will not have mothers, or daughters, or even cousins to cook for you.”

Heaven forbid he not have the right morals, or that the reader not be informed of them through wooden dialogue! And clearly his mother’s other Indian name: JuliaFuckingChild.

When she saw the lifeless body...she knew the one lying there was her husband. Signing with relief, for she did love the man no matter the havoc he wreaked everywhere he went, she fell to her knees.

Of course she loves him. He kills people in fits of rage and she has had to send her only child away for his own safety. How can you not love a man like that?

He was devoted to his small group.... And with a woman by his side, giving him the nourishment of her love, could he not be twice the leader he was said to be today?

Sounds like Soaring Hawk is really just tired of cooking for himself.

My heart is heavy. I cannot put everyone in danger only because the boy in me wants to go to my mother.

What a weenus
...

Misshi signed happily. She had adapted well to life with these kind Shoshone. She had even dyed her hair black with the stalks of a root called we-sha-sha so that she could look like an Indian. She was so very fond of her life as an Indian maiden that she was averse to the idea of going back to live in the white world.

Looking for the backstory of how she adapted to this new life? This is all you get

“It seems that fate today has arranged that you and my adopted daughter should finally meet. Perhaps it is the will of the spirits. I am not one to argue with fate.”

Fate, huh? Chief Stepfather clearly studied his Greek and Roman mythology in Indian chief school.
...

“My son is too astute to take such bait.... He is a man who prays and whose prayers are answered. In his prayers he sees his mother well and strong.”

Part of those morals she taught, huh? Christian rhetoric towards prayer? In my prayers I see myself with no recollection that this book exists.
...

He had to see to Chief Bear’s demise. Of late he had discovered he had a talent for singing. He couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to perform before an audience in St. Louis’s beautiful opera house.

See? I was not kidding.  Opera + Lisp = Subtle reference to gayness and therefore teh evil.
...

He was sure she had feelings for him, and that knowledge made his loins ache with need of her. He wanted her with him always!

When a man you have never met before realizes his loins ache with need of you...now THAT is Impulse. Or VD.

“Soaring Hawk, is it not time for your blankets to be warmed by a woman’s body? Does not Misshi stir your loins?”

That would be her stepfather talking. At this scene I crossed my legs and felt ill.

She gasped, embarrassed by Washakie’s openness in speaking about Soaring Hawk’s loins!

I did not want to know about his loins, either, but no one asked me.

But nearby, glittering evil green eyes watched them from high above, soon to make a beautiful moon become suddenly...savage.

Did you miss that? The moon is...savage? Like the title of the book? Yeah? You got that? Ok then.

Because life was harsh here in Wyoming land.

It is pretty fucking awful here in Jersey land because I am still reading this goddam piece of shite book.
...

“Do you truly think I can learn how to ride a horse again?”
“You will ride, you will feel the freedom of riding, and you will feel the joy it brings to your heart.”

Yeah. Subtle, there, Mr. Hawk. Also, would the concept of a heart properly belong in Shoshone vernacular?

“When I wish to be alone with my prayers, I come to this secret place. One day, though, it will be discovered by whites.”

‘You mean like the one next to you? You want to offend the girl who stirs your loins?

“It is so beautiful,” Misshi sighed.

Never mind. She is too stupid to be offended.

A blaze of urgency filled her as his tongue continued to pleasure her in a way she would have thought forbidden. But the wild exuberant passion it created within her made her uncaring of society’s rules.

What society? Does Native American society forbid oral sex? Or was she thinking of Regency society?

“Nei-com-man-pe-ein, I love you, woman,” Soaring Hawk said huskily, then crushed her lips with a heated kiss and ground his body into hers until they both moaned.

Probably because it hurt. Ow.
...

“Those responsible for this kill might be close enough to grab you.”
“Then go and I will go with you; I shall keep my eyes closed.”

Can I keep my eyes closed, too? For the rest of the book?
...

He knew that this night would not pass without their coming together as lovers!

Chiefs who speak in exclamation points are probably lousy in bed, though.

In Shoshone and Bannock the North Star is called Wa-se-a-ure-chah-pe, and then there is Ursa Major which his also called the Seven Stars and The Wagon. It makes its revolution around the polar star, pointing toward it. This is the secret of how my people travel by night when there is no moon.”

Time to show off a small amount of research!’

“I love the Milky Way.” I love how it is called moch-pa-achon-ka-hoo, the backbone of the sky.”

This is one hell of a Wiki article she read.

“We also believe the Aurora Borealis is a cloud of fire.”

At least, we believe it because the internet says we do.

Nothing had stopped Chief Bear’s hate until that bullet entered the base of his skull and rendered him almost a vegetable.

Yes. Native Americans totally used that phrase to describe catatonic people.

Misshi turned toward White Snow Feather. She tried to ignore the resentment in the depths of the woman’s eyes.
“White Snow Feather, I can never forget what Chief Bear did to my family, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive him, but if Soaring Hawk can bargain for his release, I will not interfere.”
Just that quickly, the antagonism White Snow Feather had felt for Misshi was gone.

You mean your conflict with your mother in law is not solved this easily?’

His father wasn’t even aware when Soaring Hawk could no longer hold back his tears and took Chief Bear into his arms. “Oh, Father, is it I. It is Soaring Hawk who has come to take you home to Mother.”

What a weenus.
...

“This is our special night. My woman, I have not even played my flute of love for you.”

NO NO NO. DO NOT PLAY YOUR FLUTE OF LOVE.

He was proud of her knowledge of the Shoshone way of healing. She knew so much, no Shaman was required to ensure Soaring Hawk’s health.

She is a regular powerhouse of healing, yet she is dumb as tree bark.

“See the dried material on the very tips of the sharpened stone arrowhead?” Soaring Hawk said, pointing toward it. “The points of these arrowheads have been dipped into a mixture of pulverized ants and the spleen of an animal that has been allowed to decay in the direct rays of the sun,” Soaring Hawk said grimly. “This rotten mixture combined with rattlesnake venom is the deadliest of weapons.”

Hey! It is CSI: Shoshone!

Misshi fell to her knees. “Finding these scalps and these arrows proves that my brother has been killing whites and making it look like the work of Indians.”

Or merely that he likes to kill people and keep souvenirs under his floorboards. Nice aroma. Hides the crazy person smell.
...

“During council, I had a premonition you weren’t safe.”

Nah. Really they were about to form a task force and he ran out of there before they appointed him to it.

“Big brother, who was the true savage! You were, Dale, you were.”

Yeah. You were. In case you missed all the scalping earlier, gentle reader. In ironic twist: white brother = savage.

“These flowers will help erase the ugliness I just went through.”

Where are my fucking flowers that can erase the ugliness I went through!? SOMEONE GET THOSE HEALING MEMORY ERASING FLOWERS ON THE PORCH - STAT!

"It tears at my heart to know that such a man has my sister." He would hunt down Chief Bear and kill the savage himself. If... she...was still alive!

"Son, your tepee awaits you. Foods that you kill will cook over the flames of the fires. I have taught you not only how to be a strong leader with the right morals, but I have also taken the time to teach you the art of cooking, since you and your braves will not have mothers, or daughters, or even cousins to cook for you."

When she saw the lifeless body...she knew the one lying there was her husband. Signing with relief, for she did love the man no matter the havoc he wreaked everywhere he went, she fell to her knees.

He was devoted to his small group.... And with a woman by his side, giving him the nourishment of her love, could he not be twice the leader he was said to be today?

My heart is heavy. I cannot put everyone in danger only because the boy in me wants to go to my mother.

Misshi signed happily. She had adapted well to life with these kind Shoshone. She had even dyed her hair black with the stalks of a root called we-sha-sha so that she could look like an Indian. She was so very fond of her life as an Indian maiden that she was averse to the idea of going back to live in the white world.

"It seems that fate today has arranged that you and my adopted daughter should finally meet. Perhaps it is the will of the spirits. I am not one to argue with fate."

"My son is too astute to take such bait.... He is a man who prays and whose prayers are answered. In his prayers he sees his mother well and strong."

He had to see to Chief Bear's demise. Of late he had discovered he had a talent for singing. He couldn't help wondering how it would feel to perform before an audience in St. Louis's beautiful opera house.

He was sure she had feelings for him, and that knowledge made his loins ache with need of her. He wanted her with him always!

"Soaring Hawk, is it not time for your blankets to be warmed by a woman's body? Does not Misshi stir your loins?"

She gasped, embarrassed by Washakie's openness in speaking about Soaring Hawk's loins!

But nearby, glittering evil green eyes watched them from high above, soon to make a beautiful moon become suddenly...savage.

Because life was harsh here in Wyoming land.

"Do you truly think I can learn how to ride a horse again?"
"You will ride, you will feel the freedom of riding, and you will feel the joy it brings to your heart."

"When I wish to be alone with my prayers, I come to this secret place. One day, though, it will be discovered by whites."
"It is so beautiful," Misshi sighed.

A blaze of urgency filled her as his tongue continued to pleasure her in a way she would have thought forbidden. But the wild exuberant passion it created within her made her uncaring of society's rules.

"Nei-com-man-pe-ein, I love you, woman," Soaring Hawk said huskily, then crushed her lips with a heated kiss and ground his body into hers until they both moaned.

"Those responsible for this kill might be close enough to grab you."
"Then go and I will go with you; I shall keep my eyes closed."

He knew that this night would not pass without their coming together as lovers!

In Shoshone and Bannock the North Star is called Wa-se-a-ure-chah-pe, and then there is Ursa Major which his also called the Seven Stars and The Wagon. It makes its revolution around the polar star, pointing toward it. This is the secret of how my people travel by night when there is no moon."

"I love the Milky Way." I love how it is called moch-pa-achon-ka-hoo, the backbone of the sky."

"We also believe the Aurora Borealis is a cloud of fire."

Nothing had stopped Chief Bear's hate until that bullet entered the base of his skull and rendered him almost a vegetable.

Misshi turned toward White Snow Feather. She tried to ignore the resentment in the depths of the woman's eyes.
"White Snow Feather, I can never forget what Chief Bear did to my family, and I'm not sure I can ever forgive him, but if Soaring Hawk can bargain for his release, I will not interfere."
Just that quickly, the antagonism White Snow Feather had felt for Misshi was gone.

His father wasn't even aware when Soaring Hawk could no longer hold back his tears and took Chief Bear into his arms. "Oh, Father, is it I. It is Soaring Hawk who has come to take you home to Mother."

"This is our special night. My woman, I have not even played my flute of love for you."

He was proud of her knowledge of the Shoshone way of healing. She knew so much, no Shaman was required to ensure Soaring Hawk's health.

"See the dried material on the very tips of the sharpened stone arrowhead?" Soaring Hawk said, pointing toward it. "The points of these arrowheads have been dipped into a mixture of pulverized ants and the spleen of an animal that has been allowed to decay in the direct rays of the sun," Soaring Hawk said grimly. "This rotten mixture combined with rattlesnake venom is the deadliest of weapons."

Misshi fell to her knees. "Finding these scalps and these arrows proves that my brother has been killing whites and making it look like the work of Indians."

"During council, I had a premonition you weren't safe."

"Big brother, who was the true savage! You were, Dale, you were."

"These flowers will help erase the ugliness I just went through."

So there you have it: brain poison, Cassie Edwards style. I have to seriously question WHY this shit is continually published? I know the short answer is that many someones, somewhere out there, is buying this shit. But holy crap in a cover, why? How is it that this superficial, tawdry, poorly-written drivel passes as some sort of tribute to Native American culture? You know the crying Indian commercial from the 70's? He's not crying because he paddled through chemical waste and litter. He's crying because he just finished a Cassie Edwards novel that bastardized his culture into trite homilies and meaningless drivel.

Seriously, the presence of books like this on the market pisses me off. I take it personally that people are writing, marketing, and selling this crap because it is so utterly and completely terrible, it's culturally offensive, it's poorly written, and it's so very much the reason why romance novels have such a bad reputation. It's insulting to Native Americans, and it's insulting to me. F this book, literally.

Candy:  This Is Just to Say

I have folded
the Hoffplanes
that were in
your printer tray

and which
you were probably
saving
to throw at your coworkers

Forgive me
they looked awesome on fire
So burny
and so crashy

Sarah: Once upon a midnight dreary as I read, confused and weary
over yet another page of Hasselhoff’n lore.
While I pondered, nearly napping, out of nowhere came a tapping
of a HoffPlane flamely flapping, flapping at my bedroom door.
“‘Tis some washed up B-list star, tapping at my bedroom door.
Only this and nothing more.”

Candy: The Love Song of D. Michael Hasselhoff (abbreviated)

Let us go then, you and I
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like yet another drowning victim rescued on Baywatch;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted aisles
The garish guiles
Of straight-to-video movie posters in cult video rental stores
And sticky-floored second-run theaters of yore:
B-movie plots that follow like a tedious argument
Of lascivious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the bookstore women stand, a train,
Waiting for the Hoff to sign their plane

* * * *

No! I am not Bruce Campbell, nor was meant to be;
Am a driver of talking cars, one that will do
To make a cameo, star in a TV