My Killer Vacation by Tessa Bailey
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
This is me rolling my eyes so hard that they pop out, go through the ceiling, and fly about 200 yards to get stuck in a tree nearby.
I don't really know what I expected. Sure, a hot and steamy romance I was bullied into reading for Valentine's day? Sure. I'm up for a laugh. But if I was subjected to a double handful cliche archetypes that would be sprung fully-formed -- in perfect derivative glory -- from some sodden sex-drenched pile of text nominally called a novel, I would be half-tempted to laugh and write it off as a Tingle masterpiece.
But no. This was just a straight-laced fearful gradeschool teacher watching a detective and getting into a hammy mystery that would have been solved at the very beginning if they weren't both so damn horny.
Don't get me wrong. I've been known to count the multitudes of cliches throughout this plethora of books, but seriously, they USUALLY they tend to get subverted in some small way or they do something to surprise me in the plot.
This did neither. Indeed, it followed the archetype of a smutty romance so perfectly that it should be taught in school as an example of the immense purity of porn. Strong dangerous guy shows girl how to love the danger x 10. And ouch. I just lost my eyeballs again.
Please don't get me wrong. If you want something so simple and archetypal for your romance, then look no further. This is pretty much the template.
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