Why I chose it: Okay, so the title has the words “wicked” and “vampire” and the cover has a rather pale lady with many ear piercings (ooh! a rebel!) and dark red lips, making the whole vaguely erotic. I imagine that’s pretty typical, but I found it attractive enough to pick up.
I don’t think that this book will make it into my hall of fame of best books ever, but it was… entertaining. It certainly taught me about the lengths to which implausibility is stretched in the paranormal romance world.
“So, here’s the deal. Yes, vampires do exist, along with lots of other nonhumans. Edge and I are cosmic troublemakers. My specialty is creating sexual chaos throughout the universe. Edge is the cosmic troublemaker in charge of death. You can guess what he does. Bain is a demon, and yes, Holgarth is a real wizard.” She held up her hand to stop Cinn from interrupting. “Let me finish.”
So, this is the world I’m walking into? Okay fine, I’ll play.
Cinn, the main character, is a botanist who makes… special… plants. Telepathic plants, plants that make you fall in love, plants that grow off of sex and not water and sun. Let me repeat: telepathic plants, and plants that sacrifice themselves out of love.
I am serious.
Aside from the ridiculous plot (the goddess of medicinal plants is after Cinn because of her unnatural experiments), I found the heroine to be rather flat. She has not much of a personality aside from worrying about her plants and wanting to sleep with a vampire. It all felt a bit… I don’t know, too much, like the author had run out of ideas and simply put random ideas together to build her plot. It didn’t quite hold water for me, even from an internal perspective. And I didn’t quite believe that a vampire like Dacian would actually fall in love with anyone. Sleep with Cinn? Sure. But I didn’t get his motivation for actually being emotionally attached to her.
Lessons learned: Don’t push the envelope too much. People can suspend their disbelief for vampires and wizards, but not for telepathic or self-sacrificial plants. Too much weird doesn’t make a book original; it just makes it weird.