Monday, May 11, 2015

Christie's review: Pucked by Helena Hunter

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Title:Pucked
Series: Standalone
Author: Helena Hunter
Release Date: May 3, 2015
Rating:2 stars
Cliffhanger: No

With a famous NHL player for a step-brother, Violet Hall is well acquainted with the playboy reputation many hockey stars come with. She’s smart enough to steer clear of those hot, well-built boys with unparalleled stamina. That is until she meets the legendary team captain—Alex Waters.

Violet isn’t interested in his pretty, beat-up face, or his rock-hard six-pack abs. But when Alex inadvertently obliterates Violet’s previous misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players, he becomes more than just a hot body with a face to match.

In what can only be considered a complete lapse in judgment, Violet finds out just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants. But what starts out as a one-night stand, quickly turns into something more. Post-night of orgasmic magic, Alex starts to call, and text, and e-mail and send extravagant—and quirky—gifts, making him difficult to ignore, and even more difficult not to like.

The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn’t want to be part of the game.






Well folks, I'm grappling with two conflicting urges. On one hand, I have a deep urge to rant over this book and let my annoyance rip. On the other hand, I'm attempting to reign in my stabby feelings, I’m just not sure how that’s going to happen. I'm not one to gleefully let loose on a book and tear it apart, but there are times when I feel so frustrated with the time spent on reading something, it's almost impossible to hold it in.



I can see where some people may find this book cute and quirky if this type of humor is your thing. But for me, I DID NOT connect with the writing style of this author whatsoever (this is my first read by her). From page one, I had a permanent eye squint and nose crinkle in frustration and/or confusion. And a "What is this?" feeling in the back of my mind that never really went away.

Case in point: what in the ever loving hell is up with the first sex scene? We're constantly bombarded with food similes. I ask you: what is remotely sexy about ANY of this from their first hook up??

He kisses me, soft and searching. Like gummy bears left out in the sun, I melt right into him.

His voice travels over my skin like marshmallows drenched in hot chocolate syrup.

It's not like he'll be able to fit more boob into his mouth. He spends a few minutes loving them like they're deluxe cheeseburgers after a night of binge drinking.

His voice is hot and sweet and hard; a Werther's Original sitting on a radiator.




Just no.

And if it wasn't one of these food gems, the writing went a little something like this:

I'm so wet. I couldn't be more ready if I jumped into a pool of lube.

What. The. Hell. I want to remove that image from my brain. Preferably with bleach.

What drew me into reading this book was simply the sports romance theme. I'm on a little reading kick with this genre and this book seemed cute so I decided to give it a shot. What especially attracted me was the fact that the hero was a famous star hockey player whose manwhore reputation is completely unfounded and he has to chase the heroine after their one night stand. Where did it miss the mark?

THE HEROINE.

I can't ever remember a heroine annoying me this badly. She has to be one of the worst I've ever read. Period. She had too many glaring character flaws that killed the story for me.

She was supposed to be awkward/cute.

She was just awkward.

She was supposed to be potty-mouthed and blunt and bold.

She was ANNOYING and IMMATURE.

I swear by all that is holy if this chick mentioned the size of this man's impossibly monstrous,vagina exploding, porn star sized, uncut, cock less than once every paragraph, I would be amazed.



The constant word vomit and worshipping of his holy-fuck-is-that-a-real-penis was OVERDONE. To the point that it actually became the theme of the story more than the actual point of the book.



This quote right here could be the synopsis. No further explanation needed:

I'm so nervous, like a high schooler with a crush. On a guy with a dick the size of Canada.

The hero, did not feel sexy to me. One minute he was confident, the next shy and uncertain. He was awkward. Again, not in a good way. The way he spoke at times made him appear as if he was a teenager with his first crush who stumbles over his words and struggles to attain the most popular girl's attention. His personality was just all over the place and I struggled to find any excitement over his pursuit of the heroine. And his obsession of the heroine's boobs was almost as bad as her obsession. He stared and groped them like they were the first pair he's set eyes on.



To wrap it up: it appears I've failed miserably in containing my ragey feelings. I gave this one two stars and based on my overall reaction, I feel this is being highly generous. I gave it the extra star because there were brief moments where I found myself actually smiling at a few of the jokes. The heroine did tone down her overzealous humor after a certain point in the book and it allowed me to see past my initial strong distaste. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to save the book for me, it was a complete miss this time around.

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