Okay, I think I can comfortably continue this. Thank you for being patient with me during my ethical crisis, but after a bit of rest and exciting personal developments, I feel I can continue this.
A few things to point out here before we get to the next couple chapters:
- Apparently, all you need to do to change a girl’s mind is to grab her and kiss her. MEN, WE’VE BEEN DOING IT WRONG THIS ENTIRE TIME.
- Vineyards are sexy places? It makes sense, I guess. Trekkiegirl and I have a few choices for honeymoon ideas.
- Johnny Cash’s cover of Personal Jesus is probably the best thing ever. This has nothing to do with the review, I just wanted to mention it.
- We miss you, Johnny.
- What I’m upset at most about the whole rageout incident last post is that I wasted a Chewbacca Defense. Those things don’t grow on trees!
I’d also like to mention that from here on out, it gets a bit Not Safe For Work. Which, for erotic fiction, is a bit of a given, but a disclaimer is a disclaimer.
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Learn anything about the future you are in! Just watch television!
So, it looks like I’m breaking even at about two chapters a post. Maybe I’ll push faster with this, maybe not; I’m really doing this on a “what can I handle at any given time” basis. Given that I’m told this is more on the “Erotic Fiction” side of things, there may be a whole lot in the middle that I can compress for time. Unless, of course, there are things that need to be brought to the attention of the whole.
Most likely in the form of a “Dayna Signal” section, as I did in the first part.
Anyway, this book so far has been an exercise in “WOW LOOK AT HOW CONVENIENT EVERYTHING IS”. I mean, we have:
- The fact that Magnus gets summoned (through prayer) to the precise time and place where there is a woman.
- Said woman HAS A FARM.
- Said woman also has a grandmother who is all “I WANT THERE TO BE BABIES LOTS OF BABIES” which is especially funny considering:
- He is the Very Virile Viking and can’t walk two steps without making a baby.
- BABIES EVERYWHERE.
- And by the way, he now has to live with her.
- Oh, and he’s freakin’ rich.
I’m just glad that she can’t stand him and hopefully that will forever be the case. I NEED TO BELIEVE THIS.
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Or, How I learned that European men can apparently impregnate a woman at ten paces.
Let me start out by saying that the copy I received did not have the chestacular cover you see to the right. The bookstores nearby were out of this book. Amazon didn’t have it at the time that Trekkiegirl tried to order it for me. We ended up having to trawl the local libraries’ web catalog and see who had it in stock, and then go through the spinners of their romance sections to find it and then suffer the amused looks of all the librarians at the front desk when we checked it out.
On a completely unrelated note, it’s amazing how many covers of romance novels have a top-heavy man who seems to have trouble finding buttons for his shirts and a woman about half his size. Apparently the female body needs to be completely dwarfed to be fully satisfied? I’m just saying, if I was a woman, I wouldn’t want a slab of muscle like that on top of me for fear of being crushed to death.
(Also, what is that? Is he attacking the reader? Seriously what kind of pose is that I can’t even.)
According to the back of the book, this promises a lot of anachronistic wackiness in addition to many romantic interludes, so let’s flip on the Flux Capacitor and take this Nordic nonsense out for a spin!
Please note: I am going into this COMPLETELY BLIND and am, in fact, writing this post as I read it.
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