After dumping her unfaithful ex, gorgeous curator Cassie Hill is suddenly confronted by personal and professional challenges when a priceless painting vanishes from the Minneapolis Museum of Art and she forced into an uneasy alliance with Bobby Serre, a seductive, hot-shot bounty hunter. Reprint.
And it all began rather serendipitously. Long ago, as they say, in another time, when fast food hadn't reached our area and the only shopping was what the feed mill offered, I was reading a book that annoyed me .
My husband was lying beside me in bed, watching TV. Turning to him, I sort of petulantly said, "How the hell did this book get published?"
"If you think you're so smart," he replied, with one eye still on the TV, "why don't you write a book?"
So I did. And very badly.
I've since learned how to do, he said, she said, and a great variety of other adverb heavy, sometimes lengthy explanations of why my characters are saying what they're saying, along with finally coming to an understanding of what things like POV means. Point of View for you non-writers}.
Although, I still don't fully comprehend why it matters if you switch POV and I cavalierly disregard it as much as possible. So while my technical skills have hopefully improved, what hasn't changed is my great joy in writing. There's as much pleasure today in listening to my characters talk while I type as fast as I can, as there was the first time I put dialogue to paper--in long-hand, then, in my leather bound sketch-book.
Some of the terminology, along with the fact that there never seem to be any author photos on the jackets of Susan Johnson novels, lead me to believe this author is a man. And while some readers may enjoy graphic sex described in crude terms, I am not one of them. I realize this is fantasy, but even when I make believe, my fiction needs to stay in the realm of reality. Our heroine, Cassie, is a curator in a Minneapolis museum. She is recently divorced, struggling to make ends meet after her greedy ex took nearly everything. She’s grossly underpaid, and takes harassment from her boss, her ex, and every member of her family. Enter our well-endowed hero, Bobby, a bounty hunter whose specialty is retrieving stolen artwork. He comes to town to search for a painting stolen from Cassie’s museum, and Cassie picks up extra cash assisting him. Even though these characters are mature, educated adults, the moment they lay eyes on each other, their minds focus directly on primal sex. In short order, meek little Cassie is telling overly rich and successful Bobby just exactly what to do to her, and they burn up the sheets having countless rounds of raunchy sex worthy of Penthouse magazine. We have to endure several pages of this before the story finally starts moving, but then, this book isn’t about the story. The author actually seems to have some talent, when not referring to body parts in locker room terms, but it’s hard to forgive the way the heroine is a weak victim, except in bed. She has a host of problems that are all solved by a hero who’s just too invincible. He gets her a raise, solidifies her position at the museum, punches out her ex, and professes his undying love, in between marathon bouts of incredible sex. Shyeah, right. Susan Johnson is definitely a man.
I enjoyed the theme of a mature woman reclaiming her sexuality after a stifling marriage, I enjoyed that the sexist-pig boss got some comeuppance, and whooboy, the sex is hot. However, I dislike that his ex is a stone-cold bitch without a single good quality save her looks, and not even the hurried explanations of how they married young, it was more to please family, etc, really makes it viable that he would ever have been close to such a horrible person. I got tired of Cassie's go-to comfort when she's fretting being what sounds suspiciously like binge-eating, and how she chastises herself constantly for doing so. I mightily dislike her sister and mother, who ride roughshod over every objection she ever has to anything they do, and the implication that they have been doing this forever and Cassie just lets them. And finally, I don't care how big his dick is, sex in a movie theater one page after you spilled popcorn all over each other? ICK.
This one was almost jaw dropping. I don't mind sex scenes but this one seemed to just get more and more graphic. I just find that the more sex a story has, the less actual content it has plot wise and story development wise.
I read this book because I got it at a half priced bookstore and my boyfriend picked it out because of the name/cover.
It’s been a month since I finished it and I couldn’t tell you any of the characters names or really any important details about this book. The language was dated and so were the character. I remember hating the sexist way in which the MMC interacts with the FMC.