Bad Boys On Board
by Lori Foster, Donna Kauffman, and Nancy Warren; contemporary (2003)
Brava, $14.00, ISBN 0-7582-0428-0

Now here's a good thing: these authors have apparently run out of reject Harlequin Temptations to send to Brava and now they are turning to their half-finished soon-to-be-rejected Harlequin Temptations. This is good, because let's face it, these authors' idea of "plot" often revolves around inane Virgin Seduction (virgin plotting to get laid with all the gravity of Moses), Bro's Buddy Loves Me (virgin falling in love with her brother's best friend whom she has known since she was ten), I Opened A Sex Shop In Topeka, and other really fun stuff that one should read when one is bored of pouring Chlorox into one's ear canal. Bad Boys On Board is very short even when compared to the previous "Brava! Category authors humiliating themselves!" anthologies, but that's because it's all sex, no plot, hurrah. And no plot, all sex means this anthology is less annoying its predecessors.

Lori Foster is all about My House, My Rules. Sam Weston (all you need to know about him is that he's a cop) gets hurt when he tries to save Ariel Mathers from her Nitwit Seduction Gone Wrong fiasco and ends up geting nursed by Nurse Ariel here. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. The end. Unfortunately, it's the PG-13/R-rated borderline kind of sex with very little out of the realm of conventional mechanics. Somewhat boring.

Going Down? Donna Kauffman has Callie Montgomery - actually, why do we even need names for these people? - and Dominic Calbourne get stuck in the same elevator and they are still stuck pages later, going down and down and down and we all scream for ice cream and Melanie C shrieks from CD player, "I'm going do-ooo-ooo-own! And I don't care!" The love scenes are really nicely done, although it doesn't stray too far from the R-rated territory. This one is okay, and yes, Ms Kauffman is very aware of the innuendo that is the title of her novella.

Nancy Warren promises A Fast Ride. Amnesiac biker dude with secret identity - oh please, as if anybody would believe that he is a real biker dude! - crashes into unemployed Nell Tennant's house and with the aid of her eccentric smalltown granny, finds sex and sex and sex and sex and varoom-ba, the end. Someone should tell the author that she shouldn't put a dotty old lady thing in what is supposed to be a sexy novella. It quite ruins the mood. This one is stuck in the middle, better than Lori Foster's tepid love scenes but not as good as Donna Kauffman's hotter ones. This one has more plot than the other two, though, for what that's worth.

Yes, I'm judging the novellas by the degree of creativity in the love scenes. However, this anthology is spectacularly unimaginative. The sex is dull. It is as if using clinical terms for jutting and sticky body parts is enough to make one sexy. No interesting positions, not even fun dirty talk, nothing. A totally pointless and irrelevant book. Add a few dollars more for a vibrator instead. Heck, even the vibrator's humming will provide more stimulating conversation than any of the lacklustre love talk in this one.

Rating: 50

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