JRT Publications, $2.99, ISBN 978-0-994556-5-4
Paranormal Romance, 2018
Harley Davis—not to be confused with the motorcycle, I am sure—is an art forger. Don’t worry, she’s still goody-goody, so let’s not throw bricks at her now.
Besides, she’s had a rough day. She discovers that her employers, one of them with an oh-so-clever-not name Michel DeAngelo had brought her onto their yacht hoping to get her to put out, have just murdered a man for double-crossing him, and for some reason, she finds that offing assholes that cheat you is somehow a bad thing to do.
So she jumps into the sea, ends up on the beach, and finds herself in teahouse haunted by our hero, Three Sheets, and his ghostly buddies.
Yes, Three Sheets. I owe Michel DeAngelo an apology; his name is amazing in comparison.
Because every freaking romance in the 21st century needs to give the heroine a nickname that reeks of cringe and second-hand embarrassment, he calls Harley Deary and Love. He also uses insults like “tuna breath”.
If the hero coming off like a 13-year old brat in the playground trying very hard to insult people in an effort to appear grown-up is an appealing notion, you will just love Jo-Ann Carson’s Confessions of a Pirate Ghost, because after the initial, oh, three chapters of Michel DeAngelo drama, the story screeches to an excruciating halt in order to showcase Three Sheets, Harley, and other ghosts trying super hard to appear like cartoon ghosts that don’t know whether they want to be grown-up or 13-year old pugs.
That’s right, nothing of significance happens aside from these characters trying super hard to be entertaining, or “entertaining” in my case.
The author seems to have her grammar and spelling down pat, but yikes, her sense of humor is an atomic bomb going off inside my skull.
What is she aiming for anyway, by having a supposedly studly romance hero calling people things like “tuna breath”? Never mind, I don’t want to know; just point that thing away from my face, thank you.
