Nicola Rendell is an wonderful writer. She takes you on quite a ride with Vince and Lucy. She tosses in the Russian Mafia, horses, bobby pins, being stranded, restroom destruction, the dangers of hitchhiking and assorted other adventures on the way to the HEA for Vince and Lucy. There is a little bit of doubt thrown in. Are they too different? Can they make this work? Can Vince be the person Lucy needs him to be? Can Vince find it in himself to believe he is even worthy of Lucy? All of these questions need to be answered in the story, and they need to be answered in such a way as you believe in their story.
I could talk about the plot, the pacing, the characters...or I can just say I love them and talk about what I really enjoy of Nicola Rendell: her writing style. It is quirky. But in a way that you enjoy, not in a way that is annoying. She has this amazing ability to tell a story that is a little stressful, that is about characters who either have it tough now, or have in the past...but there is something about her writing that keeps this book feeling light and fun...even while dealing with something serious.
The balance is perfect, and this is true for both books I have read. Often, when a writer tries to be quirky, they lose the heart of the story. And, often when a writer tries to tell a deep story, they lose the fun in the telling of the angst. Neither of these elements is lost or overshadowed by the other, which made this a great read. You can enjoy the lighter moments, stress a little through the more serious ones, and still come out on the other side fully believing in their story.
Confessed is balanced perfectly. I was impressed and I highly recommend this novel.
The bar is called the Last Resort. It looks like a shack outside and smells like Pine Sol inside. It’s surprisingly crowded for a place in the middle of nowhere. I’m almost sure there’s a table of Hells Angels to my right as I walk in. Or ZZ Top impersonators with borderline personality disorders. One of them is carving a pentagram into the table with a knife while the rest of them sit watching and grooming their chest-length beards.
I find myself gripping Vince’s hand, not out of fear but really just to say, Would you take a look at that!
“’Murica,” he growls. “Fucking ’Murica.”
“Home of the brave,” I whisper back. His palm is warm and solid against mine. It’s possible mine are slightly clammy. I feel like given the hotness factor, I’m doing pretty much awesome.
The only open spots are two seats at the bar. He pulls my stool out for me, takes my purse, and hangs it on the hook under the bar as I sit down. The back of his hand brushes against my skin while he studies my face. He isn’t smiling, but his eyes are.
Low and beasty, he says, “You’re running away. Admit it.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and raise my eyes to his. Sideburns just past his ears, and I find myself staring at the place where his stubble leads into his hair. “Maybe.”
“We got that in common at least.” He spins a cardboard coaster and watches me. I feel heat come up into my cheeks, and his smile turns a little harder, a satisfied tightness.
“Something tells me you’re not running away from your dysfunctional family,” I say.
“Something tells you right.”
“So what are you running from then?” I ask. His thigh presses against my knee. I let my fingers slide up the seam of his jeans.
“Right now?” he says, running his hand up my neck. “Not a goddamned thing.”
Enter Nicola’s Giveaway: a Rafflecopter giveaway