A Man trapped inside the Agent

A man of mystery.
A Man of passion.
A man who takes no crap from no one.
A man who looks upon the world with suspicion and cynicism. His looks get him attention, more than he wants. His heart is a neglected desert in need of an oasis.
What kind of woman can survive his heat and sooth his rage?

a bit o'gripe

I figure I'm safe. No one really sees this blog and
since I usually review the positives, it leaves me with
a bit of unvented spleen with no where to go when I read books that tank. In my personal opinion anyway.

I just read the latest B.A.D. book by Sherrilyn Kenyon except it wasn't truly written by Sherrilyn. A Co-author by the name of Dianna Love helped out.

I like B.A.D. books as I've read quite a few. I wish Ms. Love had done so as well.

If it weren't for it being a library book, I would have thrown this book against a wall, several times in fact. I'm just glad I didn't have to shell out very hard earned money for this experience. Gas is expensive!

Where do I start?


Terri Mitchell is the star in this story and she's a tarnished little chit.

She is supposed to have been a cop. She recovered from a harrowing ordeal that left her partner dead and herself sliced up with a very sharp knife. She was recruited by B.A.D. and I was never clear why?

What in the world did she have that they wanted? Wasn't brains. And she didn't know enough. Was it just the 'in' of being there where they wanted to investigage anyway?

I did not like Terri. I did not feel sympathetic towards her, I didn't connect to her and in fact, the character fell flat. Carlos, one of the better B.A.D. agents is emasculated...he does a bit of growling and posturing but they let Terri get away with stupidity by blaming it on her inability to 'trust' her superiors.

How can an agent not trust Joe or Tee? For goodness sakes!!

OH yes, they 'might' have been infiltrated too. She doesn't ever call for back up, she's careless, and refuses a partner. She walks into things thinking she knows what she's doing because she's been 'trained' but the only thing I saw throughout this book is that she needs a whole year's worth of more training just so she won't be a danger to herself, never mind anyone else counting on her.

Nathan Drake's character had potential. That is, until he hooked up with Terri.
He ADMIRED her? Thought she was dedicated, clever and a professional and her stubborness was an asset? Give me a break! Her refusal to use back up , her refusal to use B.A.D. technology and expertise made her seem weak, foolish and inaffective.

I was basically yelling at the book, 'Get over yourself already!'.
But of course, she never did.

Even the demise of Sammy, in a most horrifying way, totally left me untouched. Sure the description was graphic and gross, just like the virus was supposed to be. And that was well written from a tech standpoint. But I never connected with Sammy to feel for the character...to BE shocked and/or saddened. I never connected on the emotional level. Sammy was a Star Trek Red Shirt...expendable card board character or cannon fodder.

The villains. Predictible. Seriously, I figured out who the bad guy was and wasn't surprised who his accomplice ended up being.

This book just didin't do it for me in any way or fashion. Which is too bad because the series of agents that Sherrilyn has created have all been alpha, hard core, and very gripping heros. This one was a wimp.

OH, don't think that I don't believe woman can't be badass agents. Suzanne Brockmann writes some seriously awesome female agents or women who become agents and no where have they acted like Terri. Alyssa Locke (Gone Too Far) would have mowed over Terri while ripping her a new one for the decisions Terri made in the field.

Terri Vs. Alyssa. It would have been a TKO. And I can imagine Sam Starrett congratuating Alyssa with a passion that was sorely lacking in Phantom in the Night.

Yes, this is a very negative review. A diatribe if you will. I believe my ire stems from the fact that I admire Sherrilyn Kenyon. She's written an amazing volume of worth with a reputation that delivers. And this one let me down so much, I am mad, angry and disgusted.

Will I buy another book? Yes. But it will be a Dark Hunter. Those have yet to dissappoint.

Hide and Seek

The snap of a twig somewhere behind Marcus stopped him in his tracks. He cocked his head to the side, held his breath and tried to concentrate on what was stalking him. He narrowed his eyes to slits in order to focus beyond the shadows dancing in the depths of the jungle. He let the air out of his lungs slowly then inhaled, both through his nose and mouth to maximize the scents that surrounded him. One thought kept stabbing at his brain, "What the heck happened last night?"

If his pursurers turned out to be none other than Mobias and Hector, enforcer goons from his uncle Chip's clan, he'd rip each of them a new one.

Marcus closed his eyes. He rubbed his temples to dislodge the spiked hammers beating a tattoo in time with his racing heart. He remembered Hector strolling up to the bar, slapping a C note on the counter and instructing the bartender to "keep 'em coming".

"What the hell was in that Jungle Drum drink Hector plied me with anyway. Damn, that stuff is potent. I don't remember a thing."

Marcus listened for another moment and noticed the birds and jungle sounds remained vocal and noisy. Whatever it was hadn't spooked the animal life and that was good enough for him. For now. He took a few more steps and hopped to a stop. He risked his throbbing head to bend down to investigate a bright yellow feather stuck between his toes.

"Huh. What's this ...?" His vision was arrested by the blinding pink, orange and neon green flowers covering his groin.

"Panties? I'm wearing GIRLS' panties?" Marcus saw red.

A furious roar ripped from his throat. "Uncle Chip, you are vulture meat!"

In a rage, he ripped the offensive fabric off with claws that tore through his human fingers. A taunted animal was a dangerous animal but a taunted Were was hell on Earth. And Marcus was beyond pissed.

The jungle sounds shuddered to a stop, animals cowered in fear and wary eyes peeked through dense foiliage not wanting to be seen because a predater had just been unleashed.

If I were his focus ...

I'd be internally Squeeeing.

That's my word when I'm excited.

I'm not sure if it's the look in his eyes, the small smile or the attitude, but it all works.

If I met him and he looked at me like that... I'd be a girly girl for sure and just giggle and swoon.

What about you?

You know, I'm starting to hate that camera

Ah! My favorite, a SPEAKING look.

*****************************************

There went Jenny, giggling and and hiding behind the gnarled oak tree, snapping pictures of her favorite obsession, Stan the Man.

*

Stan knew she was there and at first was flattered with all the action shots she'd take as he'd jog the park trails.

Lately however, he'd been hearing not only more giggles but whispers, like she'd passed the word to her girlfriends. They hadn't been as discreet or cute about it and today's behavior counted as the last straw.

*

Stan observed Jenny cringing behind her troublesome titian-haired friend, staring at the paintball gun in the girl's hand in horror. He watched as she lifted her tear-filled eyes to his. As she took in the paint-splattered seat of his shorts Stan saw dismay and regret cloud her eyes and it was then he realized that she'd had no idea what her friends had planned to do.

*

The stern look on his face spoke volumes, of recrimination and disgust, but the red-headed hellion brought up her own camera and aimed it at his stony face. Stan heard her crow to the others,

*

"Aren't guys cute when they have on that mad aggressive look?"

*

Stan zeroed in on Jenny, guaging her reaction. He was gratified to see that although she was young and giddy, she wasn't without knowing right from wrong. He watched her grab the camera away from her friend and toss it to Stan. He grabbed it in one hand and held the other up in a universal stopping motion when the troublemaker screeched in outrage.

*

"You, young lady, will get your camera back when your parents pay the laundry bill for cleaning the paint off of my shorts. If it doesn't come off, then you'll be having to pay for a new pair. As for my 'angry look',", Stan chose a few select pictures and hit the delete button. "I don't see a need for you to keep it. Do you?"

*

Stan turned to Jenny and held out his hand. "Care to let me walk you home?"

*

He smiled at Jenny when she trustingly walked towards him and put her hand in his, her eyes looking up at him in shy adoration.

*

"Okay, Officer Bencher"

*

Her friends' gasp of horror told Stan a bit more about young Jenny. She hadn't told her friends everything.

A Story From a View

There's something about a vein-roped arm isn't there?

A strong and large hand capable of strength and gentleness...maybe.

What about an aloof posture? Don't you feel it's a challenge to your femininity? How do you get him to turn towards you, to notice you?

What or who is he looking out towards?

Is it a deep yearning that he feels?

Is he contemplating doing something?

Or is his appearance for someone's benefit. Is he exposing his vulnerability in a most basic way to his heart's interest yet keeping that barometer of truth hidden?

I never could figure out how a picture could be worth a thousand words, but if a picture inspires you to write a short story, then I guess they'd be right.

So, how would you answer those questions in your story ?

If he were Were

Were what?

What would he be if we were to have him be a Were?

Jaguar is all I can think of.

Alpha for sure.

He's got a very potent look in his eye. Classic features and nicely proportioned torso that's not overdone.

A guy in shape without obsessing about it to the exclusion of all other pursuits.

Wouldn't you want one of the pursuits to be you?

Will you let him catch you?

Well, since I believe him to be Jason Mamoa..... *grin*