Author: Cindy Gerard
Read copy: eBook
Published: April 1, 2007
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
HER RULES: NEVER DOUBT YOUR INSTINCTS...
Please come...and hurry. The frantic message was for securities specialist Eve Garrett, left by her friend, Tiffany, the missing teenage daughter of Florida's most reclusive multi-billionaire, Jeremy Clayborne. However, the only thing Eve found on the stormy midnight rendezvous was a nameless, faceless attacker who left her for dead. But the biggest knockout was yet to come...
NEVER TRUST THE BAD BOYS...
Mac McCain, the arrogantly sexy beach bum who seduced and abandoned Eve years ago is back. Now he's a P.I. hired by Clayborne's own camp to find Tiffany, a party girl on a party run. With two attempts on Eve's life, Mac has reason to suspect it's something more sinister.
AND NEVER SAY NEVER.
Where the search is taking Eve and Mac is into the dark secrets of the rich and famous, into the menacing shadow of a killer playing by his own rules, and into the heart of a sizzling desire re-ignited by the danger that threatens to claim them both.
After a so-so start, I really hoped this series would pick up pace, especially since the blurb promised a kick-ass heroine. Well, Eve was kick-ass, but she was also annoying as hell.
I hate it when authors cannot create some exciting tension between the leads without resorting to the almost-nonexistent-for-so-much-use and cheep ploy as the "big misunderstanding". And I hate it even more when they let that misunderstanding fester and fester and go on ad infinitum, gobbling up the rest of the story.
Because the "big misunderstanding" used in this instance was so overdone it was pitiful. Do you really expect me to believe a strong, resilient, self-made, ex-Secret Service woman would hold a grudge for fourteen years against the man who took her virginity and then never called her again? It's been (only) ten years for me and if I met the guy on the street I wouldn't even recognize him. But that's real life for you. In real life I don't even remember his name, he was Dutch, I think. And even that's pretty much TMI for those reading this review.
As I said, that's what happens in real life. In Romancelandia I'd have a voodoo doll stashed in my apartment full of needles, wishing the pox on the poor soul.
I loved the hero, though. He was quirky, funny, truly a triple-A, and probably something along the lines of faccia da schiaffi as the Italians would put it. But I loved him to bits. Pity he got the annoying end of the stick in the heroine department.
Again, kudos for the mystery, though the reader is again left without the pertinent clues and the big reveal comes with a huge "huh" factor. And the Tiffany scenes were redundant if you ask me, put in to stretch the (almost) nonexistent plot for a couple more pages.
A disappointing excuse for a book, if you ask me.