Cee Elle Reid's Blog
June 30, 2018
Lost and Disjointed: A review of Lies & Discord
Lost and Disjointed
A review of Christian M. Franklin’s “Lies & Discord”
By Cee Elle Reid, author/editor
It was clear from the start the author, Christian M. Franklin, has a like for poetry. It is shown in the way she wrote some descriptions that reflected what the characters were feeling, therefore, making them visual to the reader. Yet this only happened sometimes. Other times, the descriptions were a list of items with no real connection to the narrative and this appeared throughout the novella more times than not. For example, there were two high schools, three middle schools, an elementary school and one school sat by its lonesome; there was no point in listing these schools. When there wasn’t a list of items being shared, there was a list of actions being told which never supported the actual story; it was more like the actions being told were reported sequences of events.
“Lies and Discord” is being told in the first-person point of view of a twelve-year-old girl, Bonnie. Although it is clear Franklin wanted the reader to know Bonnie was wise beyond her years the struggle to use the author’s voice instead of the character’s voice is evident in the dialogue or narrative; they didn’t flow naturally. For some reason, the author kept having Bonnie say, “the little one” “the little brother” or “our little one” when speaking of Bonnie’s brother either in dialogue or narrative.
It felt as if Franklin was trying to force the character to appear mature with her word choices but it wasn’t coming across as Bonnie’s natural dialogue. Or it could be the reverse, Franklin was trying to force herself to write the mind of a child character and it didn’t work.
It is unclear what period of time this is set in but the racial tension and the language used to describe race didn’t feel as if the setting was current day. The language also didn’t seem to be a common conversation for a child; it leaned more toward an elder retelling an event from the civil rights era or being told by someone not familiar with providing detail from a black perspective. The attempt to be “woke or reflect black pride” was draining to read. For example, each time Bonnie spoke of her town, her “negro town”, she went on and on about how good it was to live there because of what “the blacks” do. There was no relevance to the setting in the way the town was introduced or described to the readers. There could have been a more effective way to describe a flourishing black community than to call it a “perfect little negro town” and to contrast by saying the south didn’t have “little negro towns.” In addition to the awkwardness of this narration supposedly being the language of a twelve-year-old, the major these sorts of descriptions, again, had no relevance to the story.
Each time the author expressed Bonnie’s appreciation, of being black throughout the story, she wanders into a narrative far away from what the character is doing. This, in turn, becomes a distraction to the plot and theme, which is unidentifiable for most of the story.
It almost seems if Franklin was trying to express her adult feelings and views instead of what an actual twelve-year-old Bonnie would be thinking or feeling when dealing with what was going on around her. There was no growth in the characters or a theme that was clear.
After reading twenty-five percent into the story, it was unclear what this was specifically about due to of a lot of irrelevant narration and unfocused plot. Around seventy-five percent into the story we began to see some semblance to what the book’s description highlighted. However, an unclear plot surrounded by various misuses of grammar and extraneous narratives leaves this reader lost and disjointed.
Lies and Discord: A Novella regarding Family Secrets
Rating based on five stars: ⭐⭐
A review of Christian M. Franklin’s “Lies & Discord”
By Cee Elle Reid, author/editor
It was clear from the start the author, Christian M. Franklin, has a like for poetry. It is shown in the way she wrote some descriptions that reflected what the characters were feeling, therefore, making them visual to the reader. Yet this only happened sometimes. Other times, the descriptions were a list of items with no real connection to the narrative and this appeared throughout the novella more times than not. For example, there were two high schools, three middle schools, an elementary school and one school sat by its lonesome; there was no point in listing these schools. When there wasn’t a list of items being shared, there was a list of actions being told which never supported the actual story; it was more like the actions being told were reported sequences of events.
“Lies and Discord” is being told in the first-person point of view of a twelve-year-old girl, Bonnie. Although it is clear Franklin wanted the reader to know Bonnie was wise beyond her years the struggle to use the author’s voice instead of the character’s voice is evident in the dialogue or narrative; they didn’t flow naturally. For some reason, the author kept having Bonnie say, “the little one” “the little brother” or “our little one” when speaking of Bonnie’s brother either in dialogue or narrative.
It felt as if Franklin was trying to force the character to appear mature with her word choices but it wasn’t coming across as Bonnie’s natural dialogue. Or it could be the reverse, Franklin was trying to force herself to write the mind of a child character and it didn’t work.
It is unclear what period of time this is set in but the racial tension and the language used to describe race didn’t feel as if the setting was current day. The language also didn’t seem to be a common conversation for a child; it leaned more toward an elder retelling an event from the civil rights era or being told by someone not familiar with providing detail from a black perspective. The attempt to be “woke or reflect black pride” was draining to read. For example, each time Bonnie spoke of her town, her “negro town”, she went on and on about how good it was to live there because of what “the blacks” do. There was no relevance to the setting in the way the town was introduced or described to the readers. There could have been a more effective way to describe a flourishing black community than to call it a “perfect little negro town” and to contrast by saying the south didn’t have “little negro towns.” In addition to the awkwardness of this narration supposedly being the language of a twelve-year-old, the major these sorts of descriptions, again, had no relevance to the story.
Each time the author expressed Bonnie’s appreciation, of being black throughout the story, she wanders into a narrative far away from what the character is doing. This, in turn, becomes a distraction to the plot and theme, which is unidentifiable for most of the story.
It almost seems if Franklin was trying to express her adult feelings and views instead of what an actual twelve-year-old Bonnie would be thinking or feeling when dealing with what was going on around her. There was no growth in the characters or a theme that was clear.
After reading twenty-five percent into the story, it was unclear what this was specifically about due to of a lot of irrelevant narration and unfocused plot. Around seventy-five percent into the story we began to see some semblance to what the book’s description highlighted. However, an unclear plot surrounded by various misuses of grammar and extraneous narratives leaves this reader lost and disjointed.
Lies and Discord: A Novella regarding Family Secrets
Rating based on five stars: ⭐⭐
September 8, 2017
Review of Tara S. Wood's, Lucius; The Fallen
Let me first start off saying I absolutely love the way this author writes. The scenery, the emotions, and the characters are so visual I felt I was inside the book. The sex scenes were well written, not smutty, but just enough to make you blush as you read. Yet, I did not like the story.
I'm a novice when it comes to angel books and maybe that is why I wasn't understanding why things happened as they did. The crossover from biblical figures to Greek mythology, Egyptian Gods, demons, white lighters, magical beings and a little Lara Croft - Indiana Jones action, seemed like it was bad take on an old Charmed TV episode.
I failed to see why these angels were never alone. One rarely had a scene without the other four. They usually got their butts kicked good by one demon against all five of them before being victorious. I needed to understand why guns were the only weapon of these angels. With all the different mythical beings coming into play, I would have loved for the angels to have some dynamic power other than pulling a trigger. The focus on disabilities of the angels was off putting. The jokes about those disabilities got old real quick.
The angels' attraction to the women in the story was clear because it was explained, but I could not grasp why the ladies had an unyielding sexual connection to them which they deemed as love.
The way the women were written, I first thought they were children; teenagers. They were so immature in their actions and dialogue yet always the aggressor when it came to sex and fell in love instantly, although the angel of choice was angered by it. There was not one angel I cared about and each woman got on my nerves.
It hurt me to write this review because the author can paint a picture with words so vividly but halfway through I was more than angered at the direction of the story. I want to find another book she has written, not about the same subject, just so I can enjoy her writing.
My rating is 2.6 overall. ⭐⭐⭐
Lucius; The Fallen
I'm a novice when it comes to angel books and maybe that is why I wasn't understanding why things happened as they did. The crossover from biblical figures to Greek mythology, Egyptian Gods, demons, white lighters, magical beings and a little Lara Croft - Indiana Jones action, seemed like it was bad take on an old Charmed TV episode.
I failed to see why these angels were never alone. One rarely had a scene without the other four. They usually got their butts kicked good by one demon against all five of them before being victorious. I needed to understand why guns were the only weapon of these angels. With all the different mythical beings coming into play, I would have loved for the angels to have some dynamic power other than pulling a trigger. The focus on disabilities of the angels was off putting. The jokes about those disabilities got old real quick.
The angels' attraction to the women in the story was clear because it was explained, but I could not grasp why the ladies had an unyielding sexual connection to them which they deemed as love.
The way the women were written, I first thought they were children; teenagers. They were so immature in their actions and dialogue yet always the aggressor when it came to sex and fell in love instantly, although the angel of choice was angered by it. There was not one angel I cared about and each woman got on my nerves.
It hurt me to write this review because the author can paint a picture with words so vividly but halfway through I was more than angered at the direction of the story. I want to find another book she has written, not about the same subject, just so I can enjoy her writing.
My rating is 2.6 overall. ⭐⭐⭐
Lucius; The Fallen
August 19, 2017
Married But Dating
I'm on vacation and I figured I would share something I wrote a while back. Last year I was attempting to write flash fiction and this is a story I came up with. Flash Fiction Writing Prompt: Write a story about online dating in less than 500 words. Drop your feedback in the comments and tell me what you think. Do you have any online dating stories to share?
His photo was right in the banner for SingleSearch.com. I hate it when I click a link and it takes me to a website’s home page and not the actual image. Thank God, I don’t have to register just to search profiles.
I never would’ve considered putting myself out there in the virtual dating world. I’m a married woman after all. Looking at these profiles, makes me wonder why anyone would.
Under the title, “Dressing for Love”, was a picture of a guy wearing an armpit stained fuchsia shirt that hugged his engorged belly and khaki pants. His profile says he was fashion conscious with an athletic build looking for the same. He failed to mention he needed glasses because anyone thinking he was a match probably needed them too.
This site is mainly for scumbags. I don’t know how long I can stand searching these profiles before I find the right one. After scrolling 128 pages with photos of men lying, most of them half-naked, I felt like giving up. It's possible they were using his image for advertising. I've heard of a lot of people having their images stolen for such purposes. Maybe I didn’t see the man I thought was my soul mate flicker across my computer screen.
Wait! Yes, there he is, my Adonis, my king. His profile said he is single, with no kids, looking for that special someone, long-term. How sad is it I’m here on a singles dating site looking at this man and I’m supposedly happily married. We have three kids who all look like their father and I once believed I had already found my special someone, long-term.
In his profile picture, he was sitting in a beach chair bare-chested as he flashed a set of sexy white teeth for the camera. The sun kissed his skin with perfection on that day. The backdrop was a place I knew well. It was where I spent my honeymoon.
Curiosity swept over me as I click on “read comments and live chat” with hesitation. I was slightly relieved but a bit pissed when the registration screen popped up and requested my credit card number. Only premium members could view comments it read. I had to see more. I wasn’t satisfied just viewing his picture.
I went to my husband and shamefully asked for his credit card. I know, this was bold of me. He was on his computer and he said he was finishing a report for work when I asked for it. He didn’t bother to question me or even look my direction as I retrieved it from his wallet.
As I typed in the numbers and accessed the profile, the shame of getting his credit card disappeared. 1000 comments to and from women loaded on my screen. In the live chat, there he was making plans with a woman calling herself, Spicy Red. “See you in a few Adonis,” she said to my soul mate, my king, my husband.
His photo was right in the banner for SingleSearch.com. I hate it when I click a link and it takes me to a website’s home page and not the actual image. Thank God, I don’t have to register just to search profiles.
I never would’ve considered putting myself out there in the virtual dating world. I’m a married woman after all. Looking at these profiles, makes me wonder why anyone would.
Under the title, “Dressing for Love”, was a picture of a guy wearing an armpit stained fuchsia shirt that hugged his engorged belly and khaki pants. His profile says he was fashion conscious with an athletic build looking for the same. He failed to mention he needed glasses because anyone thinking he was a match probably needed them too.
This site is mainly for scumbags. I don’t know how long I can stand searching these profiles before I find the right one. After scrolling 128 pages with photos of men lying, most of them half-naked, I felt like giving up. It's possible they were using his image for advertising. I've heard of a lot of people having their images stolen for such purposes. Maybe I didn’t see the man I thought was my soul mate flicker across my computer screen.
Wait! Yes, there he is, my Adonis, my king. His profile said he is single, with no kids, looking for that special someone, long-term. How sad is it I’m here on a singles dating site looking at this man and I’m supposedly happily married. We have three kids who all look like their father and I once believed I had already found my special someone, long-term.
In his profile picture, he was sitting in a beach chair bare-chested as he flashed a set of sexy white teeth for the camera. The sun kissed his skin with perfection on that day. The backdrop was a place I knew well. It was where I spent my honeymoon.
Curiosity swept over me as I click on “read comments and live chat” with hesitation. I was slightly relieved but a bit pissed when the registration screen popped up and requested my credit card number. Only premium members could view comments it read. I had to see more. I wasn’t satisfied just viewing his picture.
I went to my husband and shamefully asked for his credit card. I know, this was bold of me. He was on his computer and he said he was finishing a report for work when I asked for it. He didn’t bother to question me or even look my direction as I retrieved it from his wallet.
As I typed in the numbers and accessed the profile, the shame of getting his credit card disappeared. 1000 comments to and from women loaded on my screen. In the live chat, there he was making plans with a woman calling herself, Spicy Red. “See you in a few Adonis,” she said to my soul mate, my king, my husband.
August 6, 2017
Rachel Federman’s Writer’s Boot Camp – Day 1: My Dream Writing Life
Smile
“Over here! Can I get a selfie? Oh my god is that you?”
Yep, that’s me, the award winning best-selling author, Cee Elle Reid. I’m not known well enough to have people screening my name while they scramble to touch my melanin filled skin as I walk down the street or have wayward paparazzi follow my cobalt blue steel Tesla hybrid to my gated home for exclusive photos. I don’t even think I want that life but when I go on a book tour; my fans make me feel like Beyonce, the Destiny’s Child version.
Smiling was not something I was used to doing. I mean sure, I smile, but not this much and the flashing lights…dear gawd the bright whites of thousands of cell phone cameras flickering from every angle. Who would’ve thought my turnout would be like this and I did it on my own. No big publishing house, no agent; but now they are after me left and right.
Doing it on my own is why I love to keep it so real and down to earth with my readers. I love to keep my personal touch on every book I sign but really need to get a stamp for my signature; my carpal tunnel is giving me the blues. I know I will become more of a household name once it’s announced at the signing I have inked a movie deal for my most requested trilogy.
Tilt head, purse lips, smile, this time show some teeth; my cheeks hurt. Thank goodness I don’t need to tuck in my tummy in this form fitting white dress, with the goddess cape, like I used to do.
I never used to wear white. It showed all of my curves and the curves on top of the curves in the wrong way but quitting my federal job, allowed me the freedom to take care of myself and write more than ever.
Don’t get me wrong, writing is a full-time job, a 24/7 gig is more like it and I’m loving every minute of it but I can wake up in Paris and go to bed in Barbados. My life is as limitless as my writing and it keeps me smiling.
“Over here! Can I get a selfie? Oh my god is that you?”
Yep, that’s me, the award winning best-selling author, Cee Elle Reid. I’m not known well enough to have people screening my name while they scramble to touch my melanin filled skin as I walk down the street or have wayward paparazzi follow my cobalt blue steel Tesla hybrid to my gated home for exclusive photos. I don’t even think I want that life but when I go on a book tour; my fans make me feel like Beyonce, the Destiny’s Child version.
Smiling was not something I was used to doing. I mean sure, I smile, but not this much and the flashing lights…dear gawd the bright whites of thousands of cell phone cameras flickering from every angle. Who would’ve thought my turnout would be like this and I did it on my own. No big publishing house, no agent; but now they are after me left and right.
Doing it on my own is why I love to keep it so real and down to earth with my readers. I love to keep my personal touch on every book I sign but really need to get a stamp for my signature; my carpal tunnel is giving me the blues. I know I will become more of a household name once it’s announced at the signing I have inked a movie deal for my most requested trilogy.
Tilt head, purse lips, smile, this time show some teeth; my cheeks hurt. Thank goodness I don’t need to tuck in my tummy in this form fitting white dress, with the goddess cape, like I used to do.
I never used to wear white. It showed all of my curves and the curves on top of the curves in the wrong way but quitting my federal job, allowed me the freedom to take care of myself and write more than ever.
Don’t get me wrong, writing is a full-time job, a 24/7 gig is more like it and I’m loving every minute of it but I can wake up in Paris and go to bed in Barbados. My life is as limitless as my writing and it keeps me smiling.
August 4, 2017
Lt. Price from upcoming novel, "Regrets"
Sorry for being late, I'm Price. Um, Lieutenant Kenneth Price from the Special Victims Unit. My watch is usually over by now but it's been kind of a rough night; a rough week for that matter. I went to respond to a DV, sorry a domestic violence call, over at the hospital but got there and the vic was giving me the business.
I don't get it. She was treating me like I was the perp. Like I did something to her. I'm not to the one to blame here! All I was trying to do was help and lock the ass hat up, throw away the key, but some people you just can't help. No matter how many times we get called out to the resident or they end up at the hospital, they keep going back. Keep letting him back in!
Sorry I'm yelling. It just pisses me off, the cowardice of these so called men. These new aged punks find strength and manliness in putting their hands on women. Don't get me wrong with the gays coming out in the open more, same sex violence is on the rise too and I'm not just talking about men on men.
But I swear, the next time, it won't go down like that one. This is the main reason I became the law you know? To serve and protect. Protect, yeah protect. It won't be like the last time. Next time, they won't get off easy if I have anything to do with it.
But what can you do when they don't seem to want your help? What would you do?
I don't get it. She was treating me like I was the perp. Like I did something to her. I'm not to the one to blame here! All I was trying to do was help and lock the ass hat up, throw away the key, but some people you just can't help. No matter how many times we get called out to the resident or they end up at the hospital, they keep going back. Keep letting him back in!
Sorry I'm yelling. It just pisses me off, the cowardice of these so called men. These new aged punks find strength and manliness in putting their hands on women. Don't get me wrong with the gays coming out in the open more, same sex violence is on the rise too and I'm not just talking about men on men.
But I swear, the next time, it won't go down like that one. This is the main reason I became the law you know? To serve and protect. Protect, yeah protect. It won't be like the last time. Next time, they won't get off easy if I have anything to do with it.
But what can you do when they don't seem to want your help? What would you do?
July 8, 2017
Excerpt from upcoming novel "Dear Diary"
Everything was so chaotic in my head and in my world today, I wouldn’t notice the sound of the wind if it was tapping directly on my eardrums. So, no I won’t think about Lance today. I tried not to even blink too long for fear of having his memory flashback at me. While I was trying not to get lost in thought, would you believe someone had the nerve to add more unpleasantness to my day?
“Phallus.”
I spat my coffee. Not only was the coffee grimy and already putting a foul taste on my tongue, this guy walked up behind me and raped my ears with politically correct lingo. He just said penis, in my ear! I swerved around and threw him the nastiest look I could muster. How rude and disrespectful. The look on my face must have signaled to him I was not impressed but did nothing to wipe the smug and cocky smile off his face. Perv.
“Three across. The word is phallus. Seven letter word for male member. I figured I would help you out since you’ve been staring at the crossword puzzle for as long as I’ve been in this line and it is still fairly empty,” he said.
“I can solve my own crossword, thank you.”
I hope he caught wind of the eye and neck roll following my words as I turned and entered dickwad where phallus belonged. I held the paper upright long enough that if peep-over-my-shoulder-perv were checking my work, he could see the entry intended for his eyes. It didn’t matter what I wrote didn’t mean the same as the requested entry. Well, in a way it did but prick only has five letters and asshole was the wrong genetalia.
© 2017 Cee Elle Reid “Dear Diary”
“Phallus.”
I spat my coffee. Not only was the coffee grimy and already putting a foul taste on my tongue, this guy walked up behind me and raped my ears with politically correct lingo. He just said penis, in my ear! I swerved around and threw him the nastiest look I could muster. How rude and disrespectful. The look on my face must have signaled to him I was not impressed but did nothing to wipe the smug and cocky smile off his face. Perv.
“Three across. The word is phallus. Seven letter word for male member. I figured I would help you out since you’ve been staring at the crossword puzzle for as long as I’ve been in this line and it is still fairly empty,” he said.
“I can solve my own crossword, thank you.”
I hope he caught wind of the eye and neck roll following my words as I turned and entered dickwad where phallus belonged. I held the paper upright long enough that if peep-over-my-shoulder-perv were checking my work, he could see the entry intended for his eyes. It didn’t matter what I wrote didn’t mean the same as the requested entry. Well, in a way it did but prick only has five letters and asshole was the wrong genetalia.
© 2017 Cee Elle Reid “Dear Diary”
July 2, 2017
A Love Story Quite Less than Perfect: A Review of Angela Parker's "A Life No Less Than Prefect" ARC
I received an Advance Review Copy in exchange for an honest review.
As Elona gazes into a far off distance on the cover you can imagine she is reveling in the most exquisite fairytale existence. A dream realized perhaps or maybe the gift of unwavering love? Who doesn’t like a good love story, right? Yet a good love story is an understatement. “A Life No Less Than Perfect” was imperfect in so many ways. The fairytale love was so unbelievable, you have to question if the accident she was in caused some long lasting damage.
The contradicting subtext on the cover which reads, the crossroad of “When tragedy meets pain”, soon became clear venturing through Elona’s tale. Attempts to get to know and love these characters were thwarted by formatting issues, prose, and non-relatable characters. Large blocks of text made it difficult to follow; it was as if this tragic tale was never ending. If you are able to read past the formatting or minor grammar errors then the flow of the uncomfortable dialogue and lack of connection with the characters, take you back to the crossroad. For now, let’s journey on.
Three years after her accident, Elona decides to find her own way outside of the comfort of her parent’s home. What took her so long is still unclear to me. She packed up her bags and ventured out into a new world with naivety in her eyes and upon arrival sets them upon a young man named Michael.
Within a blink of an eye, Elona and Michael were in love. Love at first sight so it would seem. No, more like a careening through a guardrail and getting trapped under an obsession from Michael without clear reasons as to why.
Michael was ready to give up all he worked for to be with her upon the first meet. His heart was revving at full RPMs and he didn’t want to let up off the gas. His friend Laurence encouraged his every turn. With the strong support and push of her new friend, Elona rode past her doubts and fears about him. Filled with tepidness and uncertainty Elona opened the door of possibility and chose to strap her seatbelt tight and enjoy the ride of Michael’s obsession hoping it would take her to new places.
Parker’s style of writing doesn’t allow the reader to visualize the appearance of these characters. The cover is the only place which gives you an idea of what at least one of the characters may look like other than they were all blonde and beautiful. The most beautiful either had ever seen. Yet the entire surrounding scene is left unimaginable.
Parker tells you what’s happening in the story without drawing you a picture with words. One could walk through Michael’s apartment with perfect directions, mock his every movement but couldn’t tell you what it looked like inside or what he was feeling without the character saying it in dialogue.
The conversations in the dialogue don’t flow naturally either. I kept asking who speaks like this. Continuing through the read, another question came to mind, “why do I need to know this?” and I kept waiting for a situation to occur in which the dialogue benefitted the story.
The zero to sixty-second bolt right into love drove you through bad dialogue with boring characters along for the ride. The subject matter had the potential to go far but left me at the crossroads of confusion and disappointment. I almost jumped out the car halfway through but forced myself to journey to the end of the book. Perhaps, it may be more suited for a YA audience.
This ARC review was posted after publication date per author request due to rating.
Rating: ⭐⭐A Life No Less Than Perfect
As Elona gazes into a far off distance on the cover you can imagine she is reveling in the most exquisite fairytale existence. A dream realized perhaps or maybe the gift of unwavering love? Who doesn’t like a good love story, right? Yet a good love story is an understatement. “A Life No Less Than Perfect” was imperfect in so many ways. The fairytale love was so unbelievable, you have to question if the accident she was in caused some long lasting damage.
The contradicting subtext on the cover which reads, the crossroad of “When tragedy meets pain”, soon became clear venturing through Elona’s tale. Attempts to get to know and love these characters were thwarted by formatting issues, prose, and non-relatable characters. Large blocks of text made it difficult to follow; it was as if this tragic tale was never ending. If you are able to read past the formatting or minor grammar errors then the flow of the uncomfortable dialogue and lack of connection with the characters, take you back to the crossroad. For now, let’s journey on.
Three years after her accident, Elona decides to find her own way outside of the comfort of her parent’s home. What took her so long is still unclear to me. She packed up her bags and ventured out into a new world with naivety in her eyes and upon arrival sets them upon a young man named Michael.
Within a blink of an eye, Elona and Michael were in love. Love at first sight so it would seem. No, more like a careening through a guardrail and getting trapped under an obsession from Michael without clear reasons as to why.
Michael was ready to give up all he worked for to be with her upon the first meet. His heart was revving at full RPMs and he didn’t want to let up off the gas. His friend Laurence encouraged his every turn. With the strong support and push of her new friend, Elona rode past her doubts and fears about him. Filled with tepidness and uncertainty Elona opened the door of possibility and chose to strap her seatbelt tight and enjoy the ride of Michael’s obsession hoping it would take her to new places.
Parker’s style of writing doesn’t allow the reader to visualize the appearance of these characters. The cover is the only place which gives you an idea of what at least one of the characters may look like other than they were all blonde and beautiful. The most beautiful either had ever seen. Yet the entire surrounding scene is left unimaginable.
Parker tells you what’s happening in the story without drawing you a picture with words. One could walk through Michael’s apartment with perfect directions, mock his every movement but couldn’t tell you what it looked like inside or what he was feeling without the character saying it in dialogue.
The conversations in the dialogue don’t flow naturally either. I kept asking who speaks like this. Continuing through the read, another question came to mind, “why do I need to know this?” and I kept waiting for a situation to occur in which the dialogue benefitted the story.
The zero to sixty-second bolt right into love drove you through bad dialogue with boring characters along for the ride. The subject matter had the potential to go far but left me at the crossroads of confusion and disappointment. I almost jumped out the car halfway through but forced myself to journey to the end of the book. Perhaps, it may be more suited for a YA audience.
This ARC review was posted after publication date per author request due to rating.
Rating: ⭐⭐A Life No Less Than Perfect
