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.

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.

You Annoy Me < Take Your Pants Off.

Her Best Worst Mistake by Sarah Mayberry
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was effervescent.

It was chemistry and sparks and heat and it was everything I want in a contemporary romance, because it went that one step further and surprised me with the depth of emotion without having to lean on any dramatic miscommunication trope. This is simply the story of two people falling for each other in such a real, lovely and electric way. Two people who've been tolerating the other because of the person they have in common, but it only takes that one misstep, that one caught look, that one push to send them over the edge.

And, wow. This is how you write chemistry. This is why when two actors have it they only need the other to turn a conversation into something you can't look away from. It's not just two hot leads looking at each other and deciding to bang it out. It's the way the words turn that look into tangible sparks. That kiss into a punch to your solar plexus.

"Not so long ago you despised me," she said. "You could barely stand to look at me."
“And now I can’t keep my hands off you or get you out of my head. Which one of those reactions is the more accurate reflection of my true feelings, do you think, Violet? Let me give you a clue here, even though we’re arguing, even though I’m almost one hundred percent certain that you’re about to walk out on me, I have a hard-on with your name on it. That’s how much I can barely stand to look at you.”

It would have been SO EASY to make them one-dimensional. To make him the nerdy beta hero she wakes up and the girl he calms down. But he's someone who built himself up from the Hackney and she's been tossed aside by her family.

This isn't just Flighty Girl meets Stuffy Guy.

He's been with her best friend for years, and she's been on the wings noticing the stupid things about him, yanking his chain while he looks at her with annoyance unable to get the smell of her perfume out of his clothes even though he barely brushed past her. 

“Good afternoon, how can I—” She stopped in her tracks, words momentarily escaping her. Martin didn’t speak, either. He simply stood there watching her, his dark gaze intent and hot. She felt an answering heat spring to life inside her, even as she gathered her will to send him packing. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” They were both lying. She hadn’t needed to ask why he was there, and they both knew what he wanted.
“We can’t keep doing this,” she said weakly. So much for sending him packing.
“Tell me how to make it stop, then.” He took a step toward her. 

You almost need to take a breath it's such a fantastic execution of this set up. They go years not even realizing that all the animosity is because they're so hot for the other, and then he gets dumped and she tries to do something nice, but he barks and she spits and it's fireworks. They're unraveling the other, and it's lovely and hot and just so, so good and it turns into a solid romance and a relationship you can't look away from, rooting for the happily ever after with a stupid smile.