So after finally finishing The Billionaire’s Wife I slept for like a week straight. I was completely wiped, you see, and unable to get anything out on my current story, Dead Man’s Curves, a BBW Vampire urban fantasy romp. This is the dreaded author burnout that comes from pushing out approximately 70,000 words over the course of a month. In these cases, it’s best to sit back, detox from all the caffeine you’ve been ingesting, and read some books. I picked up a couple at the grocery store. Yes, that’s right, I’m a supermarket reader when I’m not a straight up e-reader. I love brick and mortar bookstores, but my god. I just don’t have the time. They don’t sell ten packs of chicken thighs at brick and mortar bookstores. I love Barnes & Noble, naturally, I just never have the time to actually go there. It’s a tragedy. Anyway. Kresley Cole. Boy howdy do I love me some Kresley Cole. Not in large doses because it’s too much at once, but that just means that when I go back to her there’s more to choose from since she’s deliciously prolific. I saw this sitting there in my local supermarket and was like, Gee, I loved that one story where the witch and the demon got it on and also the one with the ghost and the insane vampire, and this one has an assassin in it! Sold, motherfucker. I’m on page 163 and the vampire assassin hero and his fated demon princess bride heroine are about to get funky (again). I’m psyched. It’s got everything. Fights to the death and danger and high stakes and a perfectly matched hero and heroine (a Cole trademark). I’m immensely enjoying it. I can’t quite put my finger on what Cole novels in this universe are like, but they are definitely turned up to 11. I’m quite jealous. I wish I had the time to craft such a huge and fertile universe, but them bills gotta get paid, if you know what I mean. If you like vampire assassins obsessing over waify princesses and sexily executing all who stand in their way, well… this is the book for you. Edit: I must be hella bloodthirsty because Trehan’s gift to Bettina in the lady’s choice round would have made my knickers wet, not made me nauseated.