Did you read the 50 Shades trilogy? Did you find yourself intrigued by the theme but severely disappointed with the writing, the characters and the fact that once you started you had to finish the whole series and were therefore robbed of several weeks of your life? Well, friend; you are not alone.
I too was lured in to reading these abysmal novels, and I felt truly resentful that I allowed E.L. James to consume even a small chunk of my life. I know that they are loved by many, and I am certainly not trying to belittle the likes of anyone. But for this lover of all things hot, steamy and smutty, it fell way short. In order to write good smut, one must first be a good writer. I felt that James simply sat down at her computer, opened up a thesaurus and inserted big words at inappropriate points throughout the dialogue. Which was so overblown and dramatic that I felt I was in a soap opera. It was simply not my style.
Now, this winding diatribe does have point; and if you heed my advice I promise that you shall not be disappointed.
Allow me to introduce you to New York Times best-selling author Karen Marie Moning. Also known as: my favorite author. Moning is a Cincinnati native who started her career writing paranormal romance. Her characters center around beautiful, strong, blossoming, sexual women (who were always virgins) that encountered their soul’s true counterpart in ancient Scottish Lords. And while some of her earlier work may have been on the predictable side, every other aspect of the Highlander series captivated me and consumed my very being. Especially the sex scenes. Karen’s ability to paint a picture with words is unmatched in this department; though perhaps I’m slightly bias.
After she wrapped up the Highlander series (though, not completely, as many of those characters appeared in her later books), she departed from the traditional paranormal romance and ventured into the world of urban fantasy; and thank the dear, sweet writing Gods that she did. Karen’s Fever series is breathtaking. It is dark, yet hopeful; funny, yet desperate; calculating, yet passionate. Karen has constructed a beautiful, luscious world filled with compelling characters, gorgeous writing and imagery so brilliant that you can almost taste the Dublin air and feel the craic emanating from the page. The antagonists in this world are the inhumanly (operative word) beautiful Tuatha Dé Danann, or the Fae, who have broken an ancient treaty and have their sights set on Earth for their new home.
I have loved every moment of my journey alongside her heroine and main protagonist MacKayla Lane. And her deliciously dirty relationship with the feral and enigmatic Jericho Barrons has been a cruel and beautiful thing to behold. But when those two finally get down to business (well, it’s not the first time; but that’s a different story for a different day), things start to get a bit uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because you will immediately be turned on. You will yearn for the kind of passion that Mac and Barrons share. You will hope and pray that “One day you will kiss a man you can’t breathe without, and find that breath is of little consequence,” as Karen so eloquently stated in Bloodfever.
Below is a small sample of just one of Karen’s earth shattering sex scenes:
As I fall to the floor beneath him, I think, here I am now: a featherless peacock with claws. My lovely tail lost, in one ordeal or another. I look into the mirror and have no idea what I am. Don’t care. Perhaps I’ll grow a mane.
Relief floods me when his body slams into mine. Barrons moves like a sudden dark wind. He’s not only on me but pushing in me before we hit the floor.
Advertisement. Scroll to continue reading.Oh, God, yes, finally! My head slams back into wood but I barely feel it. My neck and back arch, my legs spread. My ankles are on his shoulders and I suffer no conflicts. There is only need and the answer to it all shoving inside me–sleek, hard, animal dressed up in the skin of a man.
I look up at him and he’s part beast. His face is mahogany, his fangs are out. His eyes are Barrons. The look in them isn’t. It makes me wild. I can be whatever I want to be with him. No inhibitions. I feel him growing harder, longer inside of me.
I moan, I whimper, I writhe. It’s incredible. He’s filling me up, gliding deep and deliciously inside me where I’ve never felt a man before. Oh, God! I come. I explode. I hear someone roaring. It’s me. (Shadowfever)
Everyone okay? I know, it gets intense. And like I said–there is SO much more where that came from. So; whose heading to Amazon to pick up their own copies of Karen Marie Moning’s complete works? And be sure to check out her fabulous website here. You can thank me later!