Liquid Silver Books, $4.75, ISBN 978-1-59578-591-6
Fantasy Romance, 2009
In His She-Wolf Warrior – I still can’t make up my mind whether that title is clever or awkward – we are back in Wulf’s Den, that hot club filled with horny immortal werewolves that has been the setting for Marisa Chenery’s last few werewolf-themed stories.
This time around, into the club one fine evening walks a tough woman, Saskia, who is accompanied by her six “brothers-in-arms”. She claims that they have been trained to protect the female werewolf that is destined to rule over all the packs. That would be Roxie, the heroine of Beowulf and Roxie. Because the male werewolves protect their women by making sure that they act as gatekeepers for visitors looking for these women, poor Saskia will have to wait awhile to meet Roxie. This gives her a chance to do that mate-mate-mate thing with Eli York, brother of Billie, whom you may remember if you have read Mated to a Wolf.
I’d strongly recommend that you read previous stories in the series before you tackle this one. That or you probably won’t want to bother, because if I have one criticism about this story, it’s how underdeveloped this story is. Eli and Saskia are having sex before I can blink. When the story is not about them having sex, it’s about secondary characters chewing scenery and interacting with our main characters in scenes that add little to the ongoing storyline. Most of them work really hard at convincing me that Saskia and Eli are somehow in love, but I don’t see it. I see instead two randy people having sex to titillate the audience.
When I reach the last page, my reaction is pretty much, “Wait, this is it? That’s all? The author is actually going to end the story like this?” I honestly don’t see the point of a story like His She-Wolf Warrior, to be honest. There may be a kernel of a potentially interesting story in here, but all I get instead is a befuddling underdeveloped story peppered with some mechanical sex scenes and then, wham, the lights come on and everyone has to sheepishly get out of their seats, discreetly adjust their clothing, and go home.
If only the author has spent more time turning this disposable one-handed read into something resembling a complete story, sigh.
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