The Guilty WTF Pleasure of Black Dagger Brotherhood: Books Wrath-Thor.

Okay. It's a timely moment to talk about one of my deepest, darkest guiltiest of pleasures. This is not something I can bring up in polite society. I mean...how do I even bring it up? What descriptions do I use? What sort of picture am I going to paint for the uninitiated?
Deep breath.
I'm a fan of leather pants wearing vampires who drive Escalades and fight bad guys that smell like baby powder.
Oh, God.
There's just no coming back from that is there?

With the long-awaited release of Lover At Last, it's hard not to get all caught up in the BDB talk. The Black Dagger Brotherhood is a funny sort of obsession, but it's one I can't shake. Some series you dive into with the gusto of a fangirl, but you find yourself looking around after awhile and trying to walk out of the room without anyone noticing you were even there.

But with BDB, I'm still in there, still reading the next books, still skimming the parts about the Lessers. Still hanging out with vampires who use unnecessary H's in their names and wear boots they obsessively refer to as shit kickers, and always seem to end their sentences with either yup or true.

Listen, I don't have explanations or a diagnosis for why I'm still waving my BDB flag. What I do have is a run through for where we've been with this brotherhood of vampires with poor grammar, kinky bedroom secrets and sometimes dragon tattoos.

I'm going back, back to Morganville.

"Teach me how to do that stuff you do."

"What, be awesome? Can't do it."

Bitter Blood (Morganville Vampires #13) by Rachel Caine.

Rating: 4 of 5 stars.

The last Morganville Vampire book I read was number 12 and, well, I wasn't entirely on board with it. But I was committed to the series and they probably saved my grandma, so I decided I owed it to the Glass House Gang to keep going, to finish what I started. Thank goodness I didn't end it with number 12.

Bitter Blood was back to that delicious crackfic like quality I loved so much about books 1-11. Things kept happening, there were ghost hunters digging around and Captain Obvious was back and shooting people IN THE FACE and taking down vamps, but only sorta, not really, and people were back from the dead and Hannah was getting canned from her new job as mayor and WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH AMELIE ANYWAY. Also. Hey, Monica. Still a raging bitch?

"So, pre-school, did you follow me in here to profess your gay love or what?"

Awesome.

Claire and Shane were still adorable and slightly dysfunctional and Michael and Eve are all wedded blissed out and causing major problems because EW. INTERSPECIES RELATIONSHIPS. GROSS. And then there's drama there and it's unnecessary and so effing delicious because ANGST. IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER.

I love it.

Also? Very little POV shifting. BONUS.

And Myrnin. Oh, Myrnin. He's still just as fabulous as ever and I still love him with all my blood pumping muscle and want to have his fabulous undead vampire babies.

Rumor has it that there will be 15 books altogether in the series and you know what? I'M GAME. Let's do this, Glass House kids. Just keep your awesome flags flying.

No. There Is No Maybe About This, Baby.

Maybe Baby by Elaine Fox
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

First chapter in, I thought I was somewhere I'd like. Maybe in the vein of some of my favorite paperback romances a'la Rachel Gibson or Lani Diane Rich. Not as screwball as a Crusie, but a funny enough, small town affair with some chest squeezing moments of shipping a worthy couple.

Delaney was having a Mary Tyler Moment of oohing and aahing over this tiny Maine town where she was about to become their fancy city Doc from out of town. She's twirling and about to go into the neighborhood bar to meet up with the super hot guy she met in town who has a boat who she assumes is visiting just like her. He's charming, and his eyes crinkle just so and then they're dancing and before you know it they're have some sandy sex out on the beach. At this point I should have been alerted that maybe this one wasn't going to be my cup of tea. It was a little fluffy and a little too...introspectively sweet to be a one night stand.

Still, though. A one night stand. You know what happens next.

That One Time That Pretty Woman Was a Bald Guy.

Escorted by Claire Kent
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked this one out after reading some reviews from other bloggers I follow, most notably Wonk-O-Mance. There seemed to be one thing they were all saying and it was how surprised they were by the story.

The idea of still being surprised stopped me. Was that a butterfly that just took off in my chest?

So I dashed off to read the reviews. I saw the cover, read the blurb.

Sigh. I've had such misses with erotica. There's never enough story for me, and I get tired of the sex. (Gasp! I know.) I want drama, plot and characters who do more with their hands than their bits. I don't want whips or chains or another alpha dude to boss me around. And that's what I was expecting with this one because here was a story about a male prostitute and the romance writer who hires him cause she's still a virgin and isn't that ridiculous.

I expected Mr. Hooker to come in all swagger and smooth with squicky lines about what he's packing and how good he's gonna make it. I was expecting her to be repressed and neurotic and maybe a crybaby. I was expecting her to swoon or faint over his bits and this would be another story about how she tamed the Alpha Beast with her boring love and her boring brown hair.

But it totally isn't.

It kept me up until way too late.

And let me just say it now and get it out of the way.

I fell in love with a hooker. Er, escort.