I had the day off work yesterday because of an eye doctor's appointment. When I took my current job - which comes with staring at a computer monitor for 8 hours a day under the hum of flourscent lighting - my eye sight started going downhill. Even though I got new glasses less than a year ago, I'm starting to get migraines again. So I hightailed it back to my doctor only to learn that my eyes hadn't gotten too bad - my distance vision has gotten worse is all. So I'm currently waiting for new lenses to come in.

As for the migraines? Well, it's probably just stress - my answer for any mysterious ailment.

I'm at the halfway mark of The Forever Kiss by Thea Devine. Ugh. It's not hideous - but it's completely convoluted, even by Devine standards. There's two guys running around pretending to be the same guy, a horny heroine who lacks any sort of credible motivation, an evil mother figure, and mysterious dead bodies that have been drained of all their blood. Even worse? Hardly any naughty sex scenes! The horrors!

It's definitely not the worst I've read by this author - but it's not the best by a long shot either. I'm still waiting for the day when she publishes another gem like Desired. Man - was that a great book. Completely filthy, with a soap opera plot fit for Heather Locklear. When it was reprinted recently I was half tempted to buy another copy - even though I already own it. That's saying something.

Well I finally finished Bad Moon Rising by Katherine Sutcliffe over the weekend and really loved it. This book had everything. A nicely done romance centered around the theme of redemption (my personal fave), a gruesome serial killer, some seriously whacked out secondary characters, and a suspense thread that kept cooking all the way to the end. I really need to drop the author a note and tell her how much I adored this book.

Next up is The Forever Kiss by Thea Devine. As I've expounded on several times in this blog - I adore Devine. OK - so her stories have no redeemable qualities to them whatsoever. But who wants redeemable qualities when there's convoluted suspense threads and oodles of sex? I'm a little cautious going into this one though as she's treading back into vampire territory. I couldn't get past page 50 of her last foray into Vampire Land (Sinful Secrets).

Hope all the daddies out there had a nice Father's Day. I am currently daughter of the year. I got my old man all 4 Harry Potter books on audio, and have #5 on order for him. I got Dad hooked on audios after he took a new job with a lengthy commute. I swear he's pestering me almost as much as the kids at work when it comes to Harry.

And to be fair - I'm just as rabid about getting my hands on #5.....

The unthinkable has happened.

My younger sister has read a trashy romance novel.

My younger sister who reads Ayn Rand and Lady Chatterley's Lover - for fun.

And boy did she pick a doozy. My sister decided to read Bliss River by Thea Devine.

I have a major weakness for Devine - but even I admit her books have no redeemable qualities to them whatsoever. I read them for the camp factor - and of course the naughtiness. Think of her books like Melrose Place (or any other Aaron Spelling soap) with more naked people and you'll have a vague idea what her writing is like.

Naturally I had to offer some sisterly advice to Sheri on what books to try and which ones to avoid like the plague. Romance-erotica is a potential disaster zone for an inexperienced romance reader.

Now all I have to do is convince her that there is such a thing as good writing, strong characters, and interesting plots in romance novels.

This is going to take a lot of persuasion and work on my part....

Well I've been MIA for the last few days mainly because I've been rather busy at work. Since they pay me the big librarian bucks to do my job, and I've been near exhaustion by the time I get home, my blog has lapsed.

I'm back to pulling some part-time shifts at one of our branch locations - so for the next few Mondays I'll get to see how the other half lives. Children coming into the library with parents - actually checking out books - and not driving me insane. That's the life. I spend a great many of my afternoons at the home office just doing basic crowd control. The last 2 afternoons have left me feeling so crispy around the edges that all I can think about afterwards involves the fetal position, alcohol and 12 hours of sleep.

My part of the Midwest got zapped with a minor ice storm last night - and while every school in the area ended up closing - it really wasn't all that bad. If I can drive 50mph on my way to work - all is right with the world. The hardest part of my commute was the 20 minutes or so it took me to scrap off my car. I really had to throw some muscle into it - and with my scrawny girlie arms, it wasn't easy.

I'm still working on the trashy Thea Devine novel that I started earlier this week. I have a mere 100 pages left - and the convoluted suspense thread is started to heat up. When I get 2 dead bodies in one book - life is good. And in true Devine fashion - there's been enough sex to cause the rest of my father's hair to fall out. Mindless trashy fun - but life is short right?

I realized over the weekend that I'm old. OK - so technically I'm haven't even reached my thirties yet, so I'm not old - I just feel really old. Why? The Police are getting inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. 'Nuff said.

I started reading my 21st book of the year last night - Secret Pleasures by Thea Devine. Devine is my favorite guilty pleasure author - I love her brand of smutty naughtiness {eg}. I can always count on backstabbing relatives, evil-doers and wall-to-wall sex when I read one of her books, and so far Secret Pleasures doesn't disappoint.

Our fair heroine Genelle discovers her husband murdered after a night of debauchery with her new lover. Worse still - looks like her new lover is involved in his death. So in a misguided notion to protect him, she lies to Scotland Yard - who isn't all that fooled, except they think Genelle is the one who pushed the knife in the old guy's chest. Her shrew mother-in-law thinks Genelle is guilty, her own mother is only concerned about money, and her lover has left her high and dry. She opts to hire a private investigator - the elusive Rulan Roak. Only in Victorian England could one find a hero named Rulan....

No naughty naked games yet - but there's enough backstabbing in this story in the first 52 pages to make Aaron Spelling green with envy. I also am enjoying Genelle. While she's not entirely with-it in the brains department, I like the fact that she makes no apologies. In fact, after she catches her murdered husband in bed with another man (a much, much younger man) she doesn't dissolve into tears. She blackmails him! Gosh there's nothing finer than an enterprising romance heroine.....