Wendy the Super Librarian‘s review of Heat Wave by Ceri Grenelle
Erotic romance novella published by Carina Press 01 Apr 18
Gather ’round, children, and let your Auntie Wendy tell you a story. Back in the Long Ago Time, during the height of the first wave of Erotic Romance (before anyone knew E.L. James existed…) Harlequin started the Spice imprint. A few years after that? They launched a digital only short story/novella line called Spice Briefs. The line eventually died out, for reasons (I have theories, feel free to ask me sometime!). I tend to like shorter readers in the erotic fiction world and I reviewed a number of those stories here at TGTBTU. When I first heard about Carina Press’ Dirty Bits? Yeah, I immediately suspected it was a way to revive the idea behind Spice Briefs. And reading Heat Wave by Ceri Grenelle? I can’t say I’m wrong.
Faye Arnell left New York for California and she hasn’t regretted the decision. Well, that is until a heat wave grips the Bay Area and, you guessed it, she doesn’t have air conditioning. Also making her hot under the collar? Her incredibly sexy neighbor, Ben. A guy so good looking, so smokin’ hot, that she’s literally tongue-tied around him. She eventually falls into an easy friendship with him, as they leave for work at the same time and make the BART commute together. But now? She seems stuck in “The Friend Zone.” He’s having amazing-sounding, incredibly hot-sounding sex with women and thanks to the paper-thin walls, she hears every delectably naughty moment of it. And yet? Nada. “The Friend Zone.” That is until a power outage in the middle of the night pushes them both over the edge into making some very serious moves.
For those who haven’t read this line yet, you can take the “Dirty Bits” tagline to heart. You’re basically getting a prolonged sex scene with a smattering of background story. It’s told in first person from Faye’s point-of-view, and the friendship that has developed between her and Ben is largely conveyed “off page.” What readers are getting with this roughly 50-page short story is the “dirty bits.” But they’re well-written dirty bits – so if you’re looking for some lunch-time shenanigans, this isn’t a bad way to go.
What works best in this story is Faye, who is so socially awkward and floored by Ben’s hotness – it’s very relatable to anyone who desperately wishes they were cool but knows without a doubt that they are not. What doesn’t work as well? Well, I was annoyed that Ben (and Faye) are extremely dismissive of the mystery woman that Ben was banging shortly after Faye moved in next door. To the point where I wanted to knee Ben in the giblets and take the mystery woman out for day drinking and junk food. There’s also the small matter that the I-Love-Yous come very, very quickly here, which I guess is to be expected in a 50-page short story – but honestly? Why do we have to have them at all? I get that the author (and probably Carina) was shooting for an erotic romance vibe, and the author does tap dance around a friendship, but that friendship is developed off page. Couldn’t we just have left this with I Really Like You, Let’s Be Exclusive? Professing undying love in 50 pages didn’t work for the cynic in me (I try to keep her bound and gagged but sometimes she breaks loose).
Anyway, even with my issues this is still a story that delivered exactly what I wanted: a quick, sexy read that I zipped through on my lunch break and introduced me to a new-to-me author. If that sounds like what you’re looking for, this ain’t bad.
Grade: B-
Summary:
Temperatures are shooting sky-high, but Faye Arnell doesn’t need a weatherman to tell her it’s about to get hotter than hell
Four months ago, I moved from New York to California, and my life changed for the better. Beautiful weather—most of the time—and a job I love. Life is perfect.
There’s just one little thing. Well, a big thing, actually. I can’t stop fantasizing about my neighbor.
Ben is tall—like, really tall. His beautiful eyes and lickable skin have me hypnotized. And don’t even get me started on his dimple. It’s as if he was made to drive me crazy.
The walls are thin. Paper-thin. Accidentally-on-purpose-overhearing-him-having-great-sex thin.
I’ve got it bad enough on a regular day, but this heat has me crawling out of my skin, restless and desperate. My hormone-fueled, vibrator-assisted fantasies aren’t exactly helping me cope.
And now he’s at my door.
Things are about to get sticky.
