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Je suis un peu terrifié par Kristen Ashley Fans… L’auteur a cet énorme public fidèle (dont je n’étais pas au courant avant de commencer à lire ceci) et ils amour ces livres… Comme AMOUR VRAIMENT eux… Au point que lorsque j’ai réalisé que ce livre n’était pas (pour moi personnellement) à la hauteur du battage médiatique, je me suis inquiété de la façon dont j’écrirais cette critique.
Dans cet esprit…
Mme Ashley et ses fans adorateurs, je veux que vous sachiez ce qui suit :
1. J’ai déjà l’intention de lire d’autres séries de la talentueuse Mme Ashley et de voir si celles-ci fonctionnent mieux pour moi.
2. Je donnerai toujours mon opinion honnête dans une critique de livre, et je ne m’attends jamais à ce que le monde entier soit d’accord avec moi.
3. Peut-être qu’un jour j’essaierai de lire le reste de la série, et quelque chose jaillira qui manquait cette fois.
LES CHOSES IMPRESSIONNANTES DE CE LIVRE :
1. Je suis une ventouse totale pour le « fille béguin grandit pour devenir un amour à part entière » l’intrigue *s’évanouit*
2. Euh… Lee Nightingale ? Oui s’il vous plaît!
3. Héroïne impertinente ? J’aime ça!
4. Il y avait tellement de personnages secondaires et tertiaires impressionnants.
5. L’humour était génial, même s’il devenait parfois idiot.
6. Texte ? L’homme aux chats fou, savant du café, ressemble à un tueur en série ? OMG oui.
DES CHOSES QUI ÉTAIT MOINS QU’IMPRESSIONNANT :
1. Vous avez lu le synopsis… il y a un ÉNORME complot de Mob dans ce livre. Diamants volés, drogue, kidnappings, poursuites en voiture, des gens se sont fait tirer dessus… Il aurait donc dû y avoir du suspense, non ? Je n’ai pas ressenti le suspense.
2. Je n’étais pas du tout amoureux de l’Inde « Indy » Savage… Elle attirait les malheurs qu’elle s’infligeait… seconde fois qu’elle a été kidnappée.
3. Indy était censée avoir trente ans, mais elle avait la maturité émotionnelle d’une fille de dix-neuf ans, elle était d’une sophomore alarmante.
4. C’est le mélange d’humour immature et de suspense échappé qui a vraiment détruit le livre pour moi… Considérez une certaine scène qui a commencé avec quelqu’un étant la cible d’une bataille de nourriture (hee hee) et s’est terminée à la page suivante avec le même personne étant la cible d’une voiture piégée (quoi?)… Il y avait plusieurs autres exemples de cette dichotomie, et cela a vraiment dilué toute menace de prise au sérieux de l’intrigue de Mob.
ÉCOUTEZ-MOI!
J’avais vraiment, vraiment envie d’aimer ce livre !
je un m un poussin de roche. J’ai grandi en écoutant les cassettes de maman des rockers des années 70… J’ai essayé de m’éclater les tympans en écoutant Led Zeplin… J’ai eu ma phase Grunge, ma phase Metal, et oui… Même ma phase Goth (seigneur aidez-nous tous)… À l’exception des Red Hot Chili Peppers (parce que je n’ai pas pu obtenir de billets), je suis allé à chaque spectacle qu’Indy a mentionné tout au long de ce livre… Je suis TOUJOURS l’un des plus grands fans de TOOL que vous rencontrerez dans votre vie… J’échangerais tous mes petits amis de livre pour Maynard James Keenan, et c’est comme ça.
Alors je le répète… Fans de KA, ne me faites pas de mal…
Et à tous mes amis et followers,
Je ne suis pas un ennemi. Je ne détesterai jamais un livre ou un auteur pour le simple plaisir d’être négatif. Je ne mentirai jamais non plus sur mes sentiments à propos d’un livre pour flatter un public particulier. Et surtout, je n’aurais jamais déjà ne plus suivre/se dissocier ou faire des commentaires désagréables à une personne simplement parce qu’elle n’aime pas un livre que j’aime. Je suis classe comme ça, et je le sais Kristen Ashley & ses fans sont chics comme ça aussi.
Certains de mes moments préférés :
(voir spoiler)
…I was never, never, never in a million years going to tell Lee Nightingale that I’d been in love with him since I was five and he sat next to me during my Mom’s memorial service and held my hand. I was never going to tell him it was a Bon Jovi-style shot through the heart when he told me he wasn’t interested in me because I was his little sister’s best friend. And I was never, never, never, ever going to tell him that something had changed in him and he scared the pants off me.
What was he playing at?
He told me.
And he told me bluntly.
“I do this thing for Rosie, you sleep with me.”
I stared at him, open-mouthed and in stunned silence.
I did, of course, understand what he meant but he explained further.
“Not like last night, we’ll both be naked and sexual acts will be performed.”
My expression didn’t change except maybe my mouth opened wider.
“I’ll expect your participation.”
Holy shit.
“Your avid participation.”
Dear Lord in Heaven.
Lee was not just a Bad Boy, a Badass or a Badass Extraordinaire, he was a fucking crazy man.
I figured it would be bad form to smack Lee in front of his mother.
And definitely strangulation was out.
I’d never replace Rosie at the espresso machine. He had a God-given talent, no joke. He was the Picasso of Coffee.
My life had been simple a day ago. Work, coffee, rock ‘n’ roll. Now I was being shot at, dragged around by bad guys and propositioned by the love of my life who I had decided I didn’t want anymore.
“Stop it, you’re crazy! One second you tell me to pack my bags, the next second you’re on me like white on rice.”
The backs of my knees hit the bed and we both went down, him on top of me, his lips on mine. “Gorgeous, give me ten minutes and I’ll be in you.”
“…Can’t be fun to be practically famous for fucking anything that breathes and being able to do so by expending the immense effort of just sending a smile their way. Then, later, you find yourself in a position where you’re serious about a woman who’s known you all your life and knows this fact real well and have to convince her you’re serious.”
They all wanted the facts, all the facts.
If I but breathed a word of what it actually was like to kiss Lee, be held by Lee, or, dear Lord, what Lee looked like naked, I might cause a riot, even a war. I might have to arm myself and fight them all back lest Lee be torn limb-from-limb.
It was for the better health of the female population and peace in the land that I kept my mouth shut.
“I gave him your excuses for missing dinner on Wednesday.”
“What were those?”
“You’d be with me and I’d be fucking your brains out.”
“He’s from Texas and he’s a drag queen. He has quick reflexes,”
“That was hardly the point.
Okay, it was a point, just not the point.
It was my longstanding theory that men missed the point on purpose.”
“He’s straight, he’s taken and if he turns, I have first dibs.”
“Holy fuck, pandemonium at the gay bar!” he yelled.
“Jesus,” he buried his face in my neck, “there’s nothin’ better in the world than hearin’ you say my name when I’m inside you.” He slid in deep, filling me. “I’ve been waitin’ years to be right here.”
Holy crap.
His mouth was at my ear.
“I could be on assignment, in a desert as hot as an oven, in a jungle as close as fuck and sometimes I’d get through it dreamin’ of you sayin’ my name like that.”
Holy crap, crap, crap.
I had to pull out the big guns.“There’ll be naked gratitude in it for you.”
Lee hesitated, but just for a moment.
“We gotta talk. Do you think Betty and Veronica here can keep an eye on these two?”
“I get to be Veronica,” Ally said instantly.
I turned to her. “Why do you get to be Veronica?”
I didn’t want to be Betty, Betty was a doormat. Veronica had attitude.
“I’m so Veronica,” Ally said in answer.
“Lee, you’re gonna have to get over this jealous-possessiveness thing.”
“Indy, you’re gonna have to get used to the fact that I’m the jealous-possessive type.”
Mace? Who had a name like Mace? Where did these macho idiots come up with this shit?
“You got a guy named Mace?” I asked, I couldn’t help myself.
“His name’s Mason. Mason is a shit name. We call him Mace.”
That made sense.”
I discovered I loved stun guns, stun guns were righteous when they weren’t used on you.
“I don’t do hearts and flowers but I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“You are so cocky.”
“Honey, I don’t give a fuck if you don’t believe it’s gonna be good between us. I know we’ll both enjoy me proving it to you.”
“Maybe we should have this conversation upstairs,” Lee suggested when he saw my attention turn to Eddie.
“Maybe we should have this conversation in an alternate universe where Alternate Indy gives a shit what Alternate Lee wants her to wear.”
“What’re you doing? Collecting the straight, super-macho Village People?”
“I’ll help you forget Nightingale,” Wilcox told me.
Okay, seriously, this guy was nuts. Even if he wasn’t a weird, creepy, icky, scary bad guy who killed people, there wasn’t a woman alive who would forget Liam Nightingale, especially if she’d seen him naked.
I wanted to run to him, throw my arms around him, do a lot of girlie, oh-my-god-I’m-glad-you’re-all-right and oh-my-god-I’m-glad-I’m-all-right stuff but his body language was not inviting that. This was badass Lee and hugs and cuddles were obviously not acceptable at this juncture. Therefore I kept my distance.
(hide spoiler)]
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