Taylor Lee creates an intriguing premise for this book and the series. A female Army major, Jesse O’Connell, retires to Albuquerque, New Mexico, to start her own private security firm. Since her last decade in the military has been served as an undercover black ops field agent, she has the requisite skill set for that type of business. Throw in a secondary plot where her ex-husband is determined to gain sole custody of their teenaged son, and you have the potential for a thrilling action adventure with plenty of emotional overtones.
And “potential” is all you have in this first entry of the Red Rock series. The execution of that story arc has more holes in it than the proverbial Swiss cheese.
It has often been said that the best lies are always grounded in truth, and a work of fiction, by definition, is a glorified “lie.” What makes a fictional novel work is the “truth” embedded into the story. The emotions, the actions, and the reactions of the characters all have to ring true, as must the social, legal and political environments surrounding those characters. And writing that underlying “truth” takes research.
Apparently, Taylor Lee did absolutely no research into the workings of private security firms, gun registration laws, child custody laws, or police and court procedures. Or, if she did, she chose to ignore those “truths” in hopes of making more potent and dramatic scenes.
For example we find our heroine, her client and his other bodyguard inside a police interview room carrying at least 7 guns and knives between them. Our heroine’s son is arrested on a felony, and in less than 8 hours is sentenced to probation, all without Miranda, a defense attorney, a prosecuting attorney or a judge. Our heroine is found to have no concealed gun permit for her business and is also given probation without benefit of attorney or judge. And the heroine’s ex-husband moves their child across state lines without permission, which is a Federal offense, but is not charged.
Now, ignoring a point of fact here or there is usually defended as “artistic license.” However, rewriting some of the most prominent points of the legal code for the sake of portraying emotional angst or producing dramatic physical action is another thing altogether. And, on a petty point, there is absolutely no excuse for misidentifying Ford multiple times as the manufacturer of the Police Chief’s Tundra pickup.
Whether these are mistakes or deliberate oversights, the result is the same. Since all these incidents happen in the first 25% of the book, it really makes you want to cut your losses and DNF the entry. But since I have known more than a few authors to get a rough start to a novel but smooth it out to a really enjoyable read later in the work, I persisted.
What my persistence led me to was multiple editing errors and page after page of character angst and anger. It also led to lengthy scenes of gratuitous and crude erotica that the author was trying to advertise as sexy romantic suspense.
Now while I am no prude, I really didn’t see anything sexy or romantic in the scenes where our hero is verbally vulgar and obscene. I saw nothing sexy and romantic in the restaurant-and-panties scene (you’ll recognize it when you read it). And I certainly saw no redeeming romantic value when our hero – the Chief of Police, no less – puts pictures of their sexual acts on his telephone. Those scenes just came across as ethically and legally offensive and left me feeling slimy.
Fortunately, I received this book at no cost.