Sandra C. Lopez's Blog, page 312

Review: LIVING WITH HER ONE-NIGHT STAND by Noelle Adams

Jill was always the good girl—shy, socially awkward, and more than willing to settle down with a forever man. One night, her online date stands her up and runs into a hot guy named Lucas at the bar. Even though the two couldn’t be more different (he rides with the tides and she wants to settle roots,) there’s no reason why they couldn’t both have tonight—just one night. So they hook up.


The next day, Jill discovers that her one-night stand ends up being her new roommate. Can you say “awkward?”


Since Lucas was not the forever man she was looking for, she decides to just forget the whole thing and move on as if nothing ever happened. But how can she do that when he’s strutting around looking so fine and sexy?


Another good romance by Noelle Adams.


My rating: 4 stars

Review: GOOD ON PAPER by Jennifer Millikin

Aidan Costa was the son of a romance novelist; Natalie Maxwell was the daughter of a preacher. Two teens that carry mythological expectations because of their parents (a romance novelists son would be the most romantic boyfriend and a preacher’s daughter would be the good girl,) but nothing is like it seems.


Years later, newly divorced Natalie is still reeling from the demise of her marriage, but, fortunately, she still had Aidan’s friendship. The two still share their witty banter, comforting gestures, and hearty laughter. They worked, but, at the same time, they didn’t work (her being a hopeless romantic with reticence on sex; and him not believing in love and just having fun with strings of one-night stands.)


“On every surface, in ways only eyes can see, they looked like a match made in heaven. They fit together.  But underneath,  geometry  doesn’t  matter. Below the surface is where it gets messy.” (17) Just because it seems perfect, it doesn’t mean it is.


“When all you can see are external characteristics, you can begin to match them up like puzzle pieces.” (94)


The problem with Natalie was that she was too focused on the Happily Ever After, on that untarnished, everlasting love. But Aidan knew that it wasn’t reality. He needed to help her realize that to get her to write her book and move on with her life.


I liked the authenticity of it. Life is not a fairy tale with princes on clean, white horses. Life has stale pumpkins with dirty rats. Aiden is simple and honest, which is what I liked most about him. He’s there for Natalie, but he doesn’t handle her with kid gloves. Like him, I don’t believe in this nauseatingly perfect HEA love (to be quite honest, I don’t really believe in marriage either.) The notion of a “romantic love” is definitely a heavy issue, one that regresses past trauma in both characters.  I certainly don’t get sappy over this romantic love, but what endeared me most was the foundation of friendship between Aidan and Natalie.


The relationship between the two characters is thoughtful, genuine, and achingly raw. Why not them indeed?


Well-written and full of emotion, story is a depiction that true love is not “a tidy, romantic experience to come  in  a  cute  box  with  the  pale , pink , silk  ribbon  wrapped around it.” (18) It engages the reader and entices to look beyond what’s “good on paper,” to get past the “pretty” and “perfect,” and see that everything doesn’t have to fit. The author certainly knows how to keep the reader hooked.


A perfectly imperfect novel!


My rating: 4 stars

Review: THE CUCKOO COLLOQUIUM by Michael Greco

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
"The Cuckoo Colloquium" is an uproarious misadventure, a gritty lost-in-the-jungle story with life lessons for everyone!The princess. The liar. The thief. The bully. The wuss. Five troubled teens from around the globe, plus their inexperienced driver and elderly chaperone, have unexpectedly been stranded in the exotic-bizarre rainforest world of Borneo.
It was supposed to be a year-end leadership seminar. It was supposed to help them grow, their minds expanded by the stunning landscape and the exotic wildlife.
In reality? Not even close.
Lost and separated in an uncaring rain forest with flying snakes, abusive primates, and marauding jungle life, it's an unremarkable little bird, a cuckoo shrike, that seems to be calling all the shots.
Each member of the Cuckoo Colloquium is forced to face their own unique challenges, both savage and fantastic, or die trying. Because as it turns out, the jungle has no intention of letting them go.

Available on Amazon

My review:

“This isn’t a jungle, it’s a labyrinth…for loons! Death Trap, Borneo, the prequel, the psycho version.” (LOC 27)
A fat boy, a rich beauty, a troublemaker, a thief, and a bully. Five kids at Cuckoo Camp for a colloquium. Where were the mentors? Instead they were lost in Tarzan Land.
Diverse characters are eccentrically portrayed in an erudite tale of debauchery and survival.  
This was kind of a mix between The Breakfast Cluband Lord of the Flies, and the outlandish writing style was a remarkable change of pace. Each dysfunctional character brings its own flavor of clash and high jinks, adding drama and tension to an unstable situation. Story was a little inane and convoluted at times. It felt too all over the place. I thought that it would be an interesting adventure of fantasy and fun mayhem. Instead, reading it made me feel like I was tossed in a whirlpool of exotic and weird with the plot going absolutely nowhere. I just felt confused most of the time. It definitely makes you go CUCKOO.
My rating: 2 stars



---Excerpt---
 
His name was Windell Ambrose Irvington the Second, but there was no way around Windy—he wore the nickname like a scarlet letter.“The fat kid farted again!” The other four teens had laughed during the ride over, because he’d accidentally made wind when this ENORMOUS bug flew into the minivan.Windy suffered from a difficult stomach, and when things surprised him, that was just the way his system reacted. It had been a big insect, though, with red eyes that buzzed, and flapped, and kicked around like some berserk jungle buzz saw. No doubt about that.Overhead he heard a long hiss like a tire deflating. He scoured the green canopy above. Then he saw eyes, big and bad eyes, predatory eyes...Windell Ambrose Irvington the Second passed wind and ran again.Another wet branch smacked him in the face. His eyes stung but he didn’t stop. The creatures were already feeding on him; he could feel them in his hair, in his underpants. Blood was dripping down one leg, he was certain; something was snacking on him down there—something he had no desire to see.He heard a loud CRAAACK, and then a tremendous ROAR—the footsteps of some jungle monster looking for its next meal in the loon labyrinth.Windy ran faster than he had in his fourteen years of executive-grooming youth, propelled by the trumpet-like bars of stomach gas.“I’m special, that’s why I’m here!” he cried, loping along, farting like a squeeze bottle of mustard, “I’m too young to be food! I have companies to manage, people to fire!”Fate answered him as he was about to throw aside another big mop of leaves...Nini Read, the Canadian girl, was kneeling in a clearing, head hunched, writing in a small notebook on her legs. Nini had rampaging red hair, a freckly face, and stunning, emerald-green eyes that reminded Windy of some snooty house cat.Watching her through the leaves, he held his breath, afraid his panting would give him away. Breathe normal, be brave. You’re the croc-fighting Tarzan, the original Johnny Weismuller Tarzan, because he had a really cool yell—even if he was in black and white... You’re Tar-codile!Tarcodile smelled its armpit again and sneered, empowered, as if the odor were a tonic. Then it strutted forward like the brave conqueror it was and sneered at Nini Read.Stupid girls always ruined a good adventure.

Review: LIFE, LOVE, AND THE BIG D by William Quincy Belle

Ten stories about how things work. They beg answers to the question: What if life happened?


In “The Radio Show,” a woman learns of her husband’s philandering ways through the sound waves.


In “The Café,” one man is still turned on by his wife.


“An Extraordinary Meeting” finds a divorced couple rekindling old feelings and regrets.


The author is clearly a natural story teller. Well-written and engaging, these stories shed light on everyday situations with thought-provoking harmony and wit. I only wish that some were longer rather than interesting fragments that fell short. Still, they make you wonder about life, love, and the big D. They’re definitely good for a quick read in the break room.


My rating: 4 stars

Review: ABOUT THREE AUTHORS: POISON PEN by Val Tobin

Writing can be murder…


An aspiring writer’s envy becomes murderous. A famous author found dead from poison. Who did it?


Story is told from multiple POV’s—from character’s experiencing life’s struggles. His sister, Daphne, is worried she’ll be blamed for his death. After all, she was the sole heir to his fortune. Personally, I thought the killer was Conrad because of his obsession with Daphne and jealousy of Leon’s writing success, and those were the killer’s thoughts in the beginning.  If I was right, then the plot surely took a predictable trail.


In the midst, we have an anal detective sifting through boring clues, trying to find the killer, which was a bit daunting at times. The investigation felt pretty long. Everyone seemed to be a suspect, which seemed kind of wasteful especially since I already had the killer in mind. Story certainly became more convoluted as you progressed, which was a killer on my interest. Suddenly I really didn’t care who killed the egotistical bastard.

My rating: 2 stars

Review: THE STORM by Amanda McKinney

Ever since it happened, Dean hasn’t been able to forget about his father’s death—his murder.


Six years later, Dean discovers a body abandoned in the middle of the road, killed the same way as his father—with a bullet through the forehead. A proud member of the Berry Springs Police Department, Dean takes an investigative approach to the fresh crime scene, wondering who would want to kill him and why the body was left in plain sight.


On the case, Dean realizes that the deceased was none other than Clint Novak, an old school friend from the same town.


When Heidi woke up in the middle of the night and realized her husband was gone, a sickening dread settled within her. The death of Clint’s death was a shocking moment. Who would want to murder her husband? And why was the killer after her now?


It was a puzzling quandary for Dean, who wanted nothing more than to protect the grieving widow, whom he was captivated by .But, for Dean, “women come and go,” and he certainly could never fall for her. Could he?  


Story was well-written and interesting, for the most part. The police investigation was slightly daunting, and there were a few too many characters for my liking. There was also a certain degree of complexity as bodies and clues sporadically appear amidst a dreary winter storm. The fact that Dean was so entranced by Heidi’s quiet elegance and beauty in a frightening and devastating time added a human empathy to an intense tale. I liked the deep connection between the two characters. Although I understood wanting to create scenes full of intensity, anxiety, and passion, I thought that the overall pace was lagging. It wasn’t that necessary to describe the antiquated mansions and desolated forests with such intricate detail. I think all that made it slower. But I’d still say this was a pretty good suspense tale.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: IF I EVER FALL by Sophia Renny

Three months ago, Willa had arrived in Rhode Island, embracing moments of calm, quiet, and the lack of urgency. “There was nowhere that she had to  be,  no  lectures  to  give,  no  papers  to  grade,  no research to be done, no colleagues to impress. None of that mattered now; perhaps it never would again.” (5)


In mourning for her father and her aunt—her only family—Willa was cocooned in a shell of her former self, hibernating away in the winter months while living in her aunt’s estate. “A simple, logical self analysis told her that she was  going  through  the  stages  of  grief.  It was  perfectly normal to isolate herself from her loss. But only Willa knew what she was truly grieving: the loss of her own self, the loss of the little girl she could have been, the young  woman  she  might  have  been. “ (8)


Then, out of the blue, Willa wins a home renovation by the Rhode Island Home Show, which will be filmed for an upcoming series.


Writing was well-versed and had a lovely lilt. Intelligent and thought-provoking, story is of a fragile woman in search of a new beginning, to live life on her own terms controlled by nothing but her own needs and desires. Willa’s quest for independence and self-worth was certainly admirable and endearing.  At times, however, the filming, the renovations, and the historical facets added tedium and lag.  The book certainly follows the classic formula for women’s literary fiction—an empowering tale with a strong lead character.  I thought it was a pretty good read—a decent prose of mediocrity and inspiration.


My rating: 3 stars

Review: MAN MISSION: FOUR MEN, FIFTEEN YEARS, ONE EPIC JOURNEY by Eytan Uliel

Image Graphic designed by Sandra Lopez
In college a group of four young men establish a tradition: every year, they come together for a week-long trip in search of adventure and distraction. They travel around the world to go hiking, biking, or kayaking. They call it their Man Mission, a sacred ritual dedicated to new experiences and friendship.

In the course of their travels, they hitch a ride with drug dealers in New Zealand, down kava shots on Fijian beaches, come face-to-face with a roaring lion in South Africa, luxuriate in a resort intended only for Vietnamese Communist officials, trek to Machu Picchu, and go ice climbing in Iceland. 
Over the years, they all get married, start families, establish careers, and do all the stuff upright men are supposed to do. But when the challenges of real life come into conflict with the perfect lives they are supposed to be living, the yearly Man Mission becomes more than an annual getaway. It's a source of stability and a place to find redemption.
Part travel narrative and part roman à clef, this novel follows four regular guys as they find adventure together, and seek meaning and purpose, in a world where the traditional rules of "being a man" are no longer clear.

Available on Amazon


My review:

Imagine venturing on a trip each year to an exotic location and experiment.


“Dull entry-level work was the way to start” and it led to the creation of the Man Mission.


Sam, Daniel, Alec, and Eytan were friends since the beginning of time. Even though jobs and family got in the way, they never strayed from their friendship, which is why they always went on an adventurous trip each and every year. 


“We were living life, doing guy things, and being real men.” (LOC 228)


“Ego mixed with adrenaline will drive men to do crazy things.” (LOC 303)


This epic journey was well-written and thought-provoking. It was an exhilarating reminder of why I aspire and continue my own travels, not just being “tied to the clock and hourly billings.”


As the years progressed and the men settled more into jobs, marriage, and family, the trips were more challenging to take, especially with nagging wives on your a#s. The ruggedness of these excursions weren’t always too appealing, but the author certainly expressed them with synthetic wit and inept humor. Story was a brotherly bond through manly idiotic excursions.


Also, the narrative awkwardly skips back and forth, causing slight confusion regarding the proper order of events. Scenes abruptly cut off and then go to another part in time, which was unsettling to me.  


An intense adventure of soul-searching and brotherhood. It was just men trying to be men and do some stupid things.


My rating: 3 stars



---Excerpt---

Late in the second afternoon of our safari, when the sun had dropped below the horizon and we had already begun to make our way back to camp, the jeep’s radio crackled to life.
Philemon cocked his head as he listened to the news and then nodded—one of the other drivers had spotted lions on the move. It was a viewing opportunity not to be missed, so he immediately spun the jeep around and set off at pace into the gathering darkness.
Ten minutes later we came to an unpaved dirt track. Two jeeps were already there, parked on the short grass to the side. Their headlights were on, creating a crescent of light in which a pride of lions was basking.
Closest to the jeeps was a big male. He had a shaggy mane, and was lying on the ground. Four lithe females had arranged themselves behind him, and behind them, a dozen or so cubs rolled about in the dirt. It was a distinctly human scene: a family enjoying time together in their living room.
The last of the light faded. The lionesses stood, stretched lazily, and sauntered off down the bush track. The cubs immediately stopped their playing and followed. Eventually Big Daddy roused himself, got to his feet, and padded off after his clan, too.
We followed slowly in convoy, the headlights of the three jeeps illuminating the procession of lions ahead. The cubs appeared entirely indifferent to our presence. But their moms kept guard, occasionally letting out a low, grumbly roar to remind their little ones, and us, who was in charge.
After some time, the lion procession came to a halt. Our convoy stopped a few feet behind. In the sudden stillness, I noticed that somewhere along the way the big male lion had disappeared. I asked Philemon where that lion had gone.
“He has probably gone into the bush to hunt. It’s the man’s job,” Philemon replied. “But beware—sometimes the male lions get bored, and then they will circle back through the bush and sneak up on the jeep!”
He punctuated his sentence with a cheeky smile—of course, Philemon was teasing. But still, I instinctively turned to look behind us; Sam, Daniel and Alec had all done the same. Together, we peered into the blackness. There was nothing there apart from the cloud of dust kicked up by the jeep’s tires. It was hanging in the night air like a shimmering sheet.
For good measure, Sam turned on his flashlight and swung it around, so as to light up the area directly behind the jeep. Right there, close enough that any one of us could have reached out and stroked his mane, was the male lion. He looked enormous, and was completely still, like a carved statue. But as the light touched his face he opened his mouth wide, bared his teeth, and let out an almighty, ear-splitting, blood-curdling roar.
It was an incredible moment, which on a TV nature show would likely be described as “awe-inspiring” or “regal.” In real life, however? Well, I almost wet myself. Because a lion in the wild, roaring at full volume, not three feet away from my face, was downright fucking terrifying.
It took a full hour for my legs to stop shaking. I’d had a chance encounter with a lion’s naked power—almost the definition of unbridled masculinity—and it had scared me senseless.
***
Three weeks before we left for Africa, Daniel had organized a family day in the park. The childless Alec had opted not to attend, but even without him it was a big gathering, consisting of Rachel and me, Sam and Evie, Daniel and Pamela, and our combined brood of eight young kids, all under the age of twelve.
The day was warm and sunny. On a worn plaid blanket, we laid out a picnic spread. Within minutes, the kids had eaten and run off to play, leaving the adults to chat, sip drinks, and nibble on cheese and crackers.
Not far from where we had set up our little camp was a group of college-age ladies. They were having a day in the park, too. There was a distinct air of fresh, youthful energy about their whole group, and two of the ladies in particular were strikingly attractive—tall, blonde and athletically proportioned.
Sam, Daniel, and I were huddled at one end of the picnic blanket. Safely out of earshot of our wives, we began making entirely inappropriate comments about the young women nearby.
“She is pretty hot.”
“She has a really cute butt.”
“I wouldn’t kick her out of the bed if she farted.”
But we had obviously miscalculated and weren’t actually out of earshot because after less than a minute of our banter, Evie called out to us.
“Boys, please stop? You are behaving like a bunch of creepy old men and embarrassing yourselves, not to mention us.”
In unison we turned toward where our wives sat, shame-faced. We were like three naughty children having been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. Rachel’s arms were crossed fiercely across her chest. From the look on her face I knew immediately that I was going to get an earful when we got home. Evie looked equally fierce, glowering at Sam.
Pamela, however, was smiling.
“Come on ladies, let them look all they want,” she chuckled. “Because one thing is for sure: those pretty young things are most definitely not looking back at these sorry-assed, middle-aged specimens.”
Everyone laughed, and the mood lightened immediately. But Pamela’s words were also sharp, like daggers driven right into the gut. An eviscerating, emasculating cut, perfectly timed and expertly delivered. The sound of air escaping from three punctured male egos was practically audible.
***
We had stopped to watch a family of hippos wallowing in a muddy lake when Philemon received a call on the jeep’s CB radio. He spoke a few words in a different language, and then turned to tell us a leopard had been spotted, not too far away. It was exciting news because we had already seen lions, elephants, rhinos, and buffalo, and only needed to sight a leopard to complete our “Big Five.”
Philemon sped us through the bush until we came to an open plain of tall grass. We weren’t alone there. The prospect of getting to see the normally reclusive leopard had brought ten other jeeps hurtling through the veld. It was a crush, jeeps lined up bumper to bumper. An unexpected traffic jam in the depths of the African bush.
We waited in line, the engine idling, while each vehicle in the queue ahead of us got their allocated alone time with the leopard. All the while the drivers were barking at each other on their radios. This was partly to keep an eye on the leopard’s whereabouts, but mainly to ensure that viewing privileges were being fairly distributed.
When it was finally our turn, Philemon inched the jeep forward. Right there in the undergrowth, no more than fifteen feet away, was a female leopard. Her yellow and black spots camouflaged perfectly against the surroundings, so we had to squint at first to see her, but once we had, it was impossible not to: we were in the presence of the queen of the jungle, and she had deigned to grant us a royal audience. Her mere presence commanded our full attention.
The leopardess was moving in a line parallel to the vehicle track, allowing us to roll alongside her as she walked. Although it didn’t look like she was walking. Rather, she appeared to be gliding, a languid, hypnotic sashay through the bush. Her movement was so smooth she could have been mistaken for floating, passing through the long grass like a soft breath of wind.
Leaves rustled in the breeze, and the leopardess abruptly stopped. It looked like she was sniffing the air. Then she turned toward us, lifted her head, and much as a domestic pussycat might, opened her mouth wide. I expected her to roar, like the big male lion had done the night before. Yet she made no sound. Instead our leopardess treated us to something entirely different: a seductive, feline yawn. A dozen cameras fired in unison, capturing forever the magic of that beautiful, perfectly feminine moment.
In the rush of flashes and clicks, I experienced an unexpected shift of focus, to Rachel. I found myself thinking of my wife—of our life together, our marriage, and our family. Through the long blades of grass I could see the two of us, but from a detached, self-reflective perspective. Like I was studying a photo, or like a doctor might observe a gravely ill patient through a hospital’s viewing window.
It all suddenly seemed so blindingly obvious in that African twilight: Rachel and I had expertly constructed a façade. To the outside world, we looked the model couple. We had a beautiful home and three perfect children. I had a good job. It may not have been as high-powered and remunerative as my previous one, yet it still allowed us a life filled with material comforts, adventures, and privileges. From a distance our relationship seemed warm and loving.
But behind the closed doors of our bedroom it was very different. Cracks had grown between us. They had widened slowly over time, until they had become gaping rivers that with each passing year were becoming harder and harder to wade across.
Alone, there was no camouflage to protect us. We bickered constantly, arguing over small, insignificant things. The flame of romance and lust, which had burned so strongly when we’d first met, had become a faint, intermittent flicker. We slept together infrequently, and more often than not I’d find myself jerking off in the shower for gratification, like a sad cliché character in a B-grade movie.
Our existence had become predictable and boring. We were both slowly losing our identities, choosing to define our relationship in terms of our young children’s blossoming lives. We had allowed ourselves to become little more than the sum of their feeding schedules, their play dates and parties, their swimming lessons, their school events.
Life was being sucked clean out from our marrows, and still we both smiled and continued as ever before. That was what was expected of me as a man. That was what was expected of us as a marriage. We’d signed up to a forever thing when we said, “I do.” The Relationship Playbook required us to be unflinching in that commitment to each other, no matter how dead we felt on the inside.
Nothing was perfect, and nothing was as it seemed—of course I knew that. Even so, I couldn’t help thinking that Alec now had it all: an adoring fiancée, a thriving business, and a six-pack. Daniel also seemed to have it all: a content life of his own choosing. And Sam too: a doting wife, a wonderful house and home, and a brood of perfect children.
I was the one who was failing. My relationship was dying. Rachel and I were dancing a slow, dripping death-waltz. It may have been barely perceptible from the outside, but inside of me my soul was withering away.
Once, ten years before, I’d been a happier, younger version of myself. Back then, I could roar like a lion. Now I was silent and choked up. I had become an interloper in my own life, trying to find a way through a field of treacherous long grass. Only I was not floating in the breeze, but slithering along on my belly, like a snake.
The leopardess paused for a moment. She sniffed the air one last time, and with a swish of her tail turned her back on me. Indifferent to my presence she sauntered off, to continue her walk under the big African sky.
She had better things to do.
*** MM X Vital Statistics
Country: South Africa
Location: Otter Trail and Kruger National Park
Mode of transport: Hiking and safari
Distance covered: Hike—thirty miles; safari—lots
Time taken: Hike—four days; safari—three days
Accommodation: Huts and eco-tents
Injuries sustained: Fear

Review: DOUBLE FUDGE AND DANGER by Erin Huss

Cambria Clyne, an apartment manager in L.A, was a low-income, single mother of a 3-year old daughter. She also had a bad habit of eating her feeling. Well, I guess you would too if you had her job with the late-night “emergency” calls and frustrated tenants.


Naturally, Cambria talks about the eclectic variety of characters that take up residence in her complex. Cambria is definitely as quirky as her tenants though, especially with her tendency to overthink and ramble on in her brain. She makes a lot of notes to herself.


When another on-site manager goes missing, Cambria was tossed into the mix. After all, there was a lunatic kidnapping apartment managers!


Although this sounded like a decent cozy mystery, I have to say that the mystery was rather slow and daunting. It felt like I was getting more of the neighbors (their leaks and problems) rather than any details to the case. The story really didn’t hold my interest.


My rating: 2 stars

Review: CLASS OF ’59 by John A. Heldt

2017: Mary Beth found herself in the middle of a store robbery. That’s when a gunman shot and killed the only man she’s ever loved.


1959: Mark finds a letter from a man in the 1900’s that traveled through time and wondered if it could really happen.


Suddenly, Mark finds himself in the future, 2017. He discovers that the house that was once his home in 1959 is the also the place where Mary Beth is vacationing with her family. After he meets Mary Beth, she accidentally joins him in 1959.


From that point on, the two jump between eras, to have the vacation of a lifetime before embarking on the next chapter of their lives.


This author usually has a knack for writing a good time-travel story; however, being that this was part of the American Journey series, it read more like a sight-seeing journal. I didn’t enjoy this as much as the author’s previous books, but it was still well-written.


My rating: 3 stars