Monday, 1 May 2017

Review: Joy Ride by Lauren Blakely

*****4.5 Stars*****

I can't actually pin point the sole reason I love Lauren Blakely's books. Maybe it's the fact they're quick, fun, light hearted reads. Maybe it's because they are pretty damn hot, or maybe it's just because she writes totally unique, mad as a hatter characters.

This book was no different. Max and Henley, both masters in the custom car game, have some unresolved tension, which definitely helped give us that amazing chemistry that grabs my attention.

Initially I couldn't warm to Max at all. I mean yes he was hot and I absolutely felt the sexual energy between him and Henley, but he came across as a bit of an egotistical jerk and at times displayed, what I now know to be untrue, chauvenistic tendencies. He was after all the self confessed King of Pleasure, Master of One Night Stands.

As for Henley, I did actually have a lot of sympathy for her. I felt she was wrongly mistreated by Max, but again the reason for this became clear. She was just the right mixture of bad assness and girly girl and her vulnerability made me love her all the more.

This book to me was like the Discovery TV Show's Fast N' Loud - Romance Edition (This should definitely be an idea for a show) and whilst it did take me a while to get used to the quirkiness of the character's (as is often the case with Lauren's books). Once I did, I was 100% hooked.

Reviewed by Louise Dale 

From the #1 New York Times Bestselling author of FULL PACKAGE and BIG ROCK, comes a hot & hilarious new standalone romantic comedy…

Let’s be honest, ladies. A good man is a lot like the perfect car. You want a hot body, an engine that purrs, and superior performance under the hood...for the best joy ride of your life.

I’m at your service. Ready to go all night long.

But then a wildly sexy brunette appears in my life and throws a wrench in all my plans. She’s fiery, she’s talented, she’s gorgeous, and I’d really like to know what makes her engine hum.

Henley also happens to be my biggest rival, and now we’re forced to work together every day on the most important custom car build of my career. The trouble is I can’t quite figure out if she wants to kick me in the lug nuts or beg me to give her a good, hard fuel injection. Until one night that question is answered on the hood of a sports car when she calls out my name three times. And we can’t seem to put on the brakes.

If sleeping with the enemy is a bad idea, how much more dangerous would it be to fall in love with her?

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