First the romance:
Close to You,
by Christina Dodd. I write in series, meaning that I have a continuing story arc. But my continuing stories tend to be less than earth-shaking - along the lines of “what sex is Esme’s baby?” Nobody’s holding their breath. Christina’s linked suspense novels are of a different caliber. I remember reading the first one in this series and begging Christina to tell me who killed Hope’s parents. Would she tell? Nope. I suspected that she didn’t really know… after all, don’t you think that suspense authors must sometimes set up these elaborate killer schemes without having the faintest idea who did it?
Close to You is about a bodyguard. Didn’t one of those princesses of Monaco marry her bodyguard for a while? I know exactly why. He’s strong, he’s sexy, he’s protecting you, and he’s not going anywhere. Me, I’d never marry anyone like that: my husband does the dishes and can even be counted to pick up tiny people from daycare. But that doesn’t mean I can’t waste some time dreaming about the muscular, lone wolf bodyguards I never married. Plus we get to find out what happened to the Prescott sisters’ parents. And then… did I mention this?
Sex with a bodyguard.
Yah.
All Those Other Books:
Elegance,
by Kathleen Tessaro.I grew up on a farm in Minnesota. My mom discovered the virtues of bean sprouts, wheat germ and raising children without television before most of America had heard of such things. I love my mom… but somewhere, deep inside, I was confused that I wasn’t being raised by Jackie O. If only I had discovered Genevieve Antoine Dariaux’s guide to Elegance before I got that perm my senior year! For example, Ms. Dariaux notes that nothing betrays a woman more than her lingerie; it is infinitely more revealing than a thousand hours spent on a psychiatrist’s couch. Ouch!
Combine this French wisdom with a really funny chic lit about a woman who takes Ms. Dariaux’s advice and really lives it (she goes out and buys seven sets of La Perla bras and panties. That’s a major investment; take it from one who knows). Anyway, put French advice together with an English woman, and you get a hilarious book. Ms. Dariaux’s advice heads each chapter, and kept me reading far into the night; Louise’s bad marriage kept me laughing.
