Dell, $6.99, ISBN 0-440-23759-9
Romantic Suspense, 2003

This is a “stare” book. I stare at the pages until my eyes run because I can read it again and again but I still cannot comprehend what I am reading. For example, I cannot understand whether the heroine is just born stupid that way – maybe mommy popped her out while mommy was flying down the slopes of the Alps – or she has her brain scooped out by evil aliens that hate romance readers. I spend the first 100 pages trying to puzzle out whether I am missing a few chapters in the edition I’m reading or maybe the author is just taking her time in making me see sense in her story. Then I have to decide if I should even care.

Taylor O’Toole is a suspense author who is stuck in what the author must hope to be a brilliant crime drama. Accidents happen. A Navy SEAL, Jack Broussard, is her neighbor who, unknown to her, is eavesdropping on her via bugs and taps. That’s all I can say. Wait, I can also say without spoiling the story that the author can only hope she is doing some brilliant Tarantino-like thing where seemingly random scenes finally come together to form a great picture. Frankly, most of the events here happen due to implausible coincidences that stumble more than once into the Great Plot Holes that riddle the highway from chapters one to forty-five. The hero is – well, he’s a Navy SEAL guy. Seen one naked, seen ’em all. Whatever. The heroine, when she is not going into some overwrought weepy hysteria mode about her being adopted, is acting all stupid, like not following a Navy SEAL’s instructions just because she feels like getting in trouble today.

So that’s it. If this review makes little sense, it’s because I can’t explain the complicated plot that involves everything from biological weapons, Dubby’s panties, Saddam’s milk mustache, Tony Blair’s vibrator, and a dog named Chairman Mao. I made the last four things up, by the way. Lots of villains, lots of coincidences, lots of scenes of the heroine getting in danger, and oh yeah, some nice hot love scenes. Very little here makes sense, the heroine is irritatingly stupid, and… well, let’s just say that bad plots and silly formulaic antics are on Hot Pursuit on Christina Skye’s tush, and for the author’s sake, I hope they never catch up with her.