I read a lot of books. I pick up and discard even more, because life is too short to read bad books. But every once in a while, a book comes along that is so awful that it's almost a sport to read it. This is one of those books. From the first incoherent paragraph to the last ridiculous page, this is bewilderingly bad. (I should note that it's published by M.M.W.E. Publishing House in Tampa, FL in case you'd like to check out more of their fine selections. I can't find them online, but maybe you can.)
Quick summary, then we can get to the bad writing. Two storylines: One is about a beautiful woman who is killing pedophiles and other sexually criminal men (her motto is the book's title). The other concerns Molly Madison, socialite who is married to Philip, a lawyer with political aspirations and a secret gay life. When Molly's parents die unexpectedly, she takes over the ranch and fends off potential buyers who will use any means to get to the ranch. She splits up with Philip and takes up with Clayton Leatherbe, head foreman of the ranch. Also, she has a half sister in town who (spoiler alert) is Molly's best friend and responsible for killing or trying to kill most of the people Molly knows.
I give you the first lines of the novel:
"The dimly lit room was specifically designed to create a soothing atmosphere for his patients. An illusion of safety and warmth was his mastermind. He was a Picasso when it came to the details of decorating his office."
Picasso? What? On to Chapter Two, as Philip goes to the gay bar:
"The city lights cast shadows that stretched along the brick walls upon the back of the buildings that lined the dingy alleyway. It reached up like bony fingers providing shade to mask the faces of those who wished to keep their dirty secrets from others."
Just think about it logistically . . . It's at this point that I couldn't help thinking of Inigo Montoya--I just don't think those words mean what she thinks they mean. At least not in the order that she uses them. Let's join Philip at the gay bar!
"The electric voice of Donna Summer swirled in his head. He took great pleasure watching the sweat glisten from the men who simultaneously grinded their bodies together upon the dance floor and felt shivers of excitement run from the back of his neck all the way down to his groin."
Is it just me, or did that shiver of excitement take a u-turn? Even emotions take twisty turns within a single sentence, as when Molly finds out about her parent's accident:
"She expected to hear the comfort of her father's voice calling to inform her that they would be arriving that night, only to be emotionally overthrown by the voice of a compassionate state trooper informing her of her parent's deadly accident."
Molly flies to Montana, "pained with guilt over the fact that she and Philip were being pampered in first class along with her mother and father's charred remains that had been stuffed into body bags and placed in the cargo hold of the large airliner." She drinks Bloody Marys, cries and sleeps on the flight. But "as she stepped off the plane, the mountain air slapped the inebriated woman square in the face and awoke her dulled senses." Just in time for her to meet Clayton Leatherbe:
"Molly noticed the tall, brawny cowboy calling her name. She could not help but admire the thick blond hair that lay beneath his black cowboy hat or the way his tight fitting Wrangler jeans complimented his perfect ass. As Clayton approached them, Molly's swollen eyes spotted the silver rodeo belt buckle that rode just above the large bulge that filled out the front of his pants.
Remember, she just lost her parents. Man, that mountain air really does work wonders. Plus, was he spinning around in circles? At this point, I'm starting to think this is some elaborate publishing joke. On every single page is an example of genuinely weird writing. The descriptions make no sense at all, as in this bit about Molly's father's study:
"As he looked around, his nostrils were filled with the aromatic scent of cherry tobacco that still lingered thick in the air. He spied Gavin's expansive collection of assorted pipes sitting on the large hand carved desk as if anticipating his arrival to be puffed upon once more. A massive fireplace made out of Ancient River rocks, which had once been painstaking hand selected and gathered specifically for their color, emerged from the floor to fill the corner of the room."
I'd love to see an old-school grammarian parse the descriptive sentences in that scene. And what's with the random capitalization? Believe me, I could go on and on. But let's close out with one final scene--a love scene to end all love scenes.
"Clayton gazed down into the depths of Molly's blue eyes with such intensity that he was able to reach in and pluck out her soul. [Literally?] All of her desires were mounting and taking over and she knew that she had lost control of the lust that was building inside her.
Neither one of them had any control over the passion they felt for each other. As her body quivered under his touch, Molly reached up for Clayton's lips, parting them ever so gently with her moist tongue. [Just picture that. Try it yourself for fun!] From the first moment that Clayton pressed his lips to her, Molly knew that they were destined for each other and she would never let him go. She loved this man, and for the first time in her life, she felt whole and complete.
As Molly inhaled heavily, the aroma of spice and leather swirled off from Clayton's masculine skin and filled her nostrils with delight. [Mmm, swirly AND masculine.] He enthralled her. He had heightened her senses to a level beyond her wildest dreams.
Clayton could not contain the burning passion he felt for Molly. He slowly unzipped her coat and reached under her denim shirt, longing to feel her swollen breast. [Just the one?] Even though Molly was in her forties her breasts were firm and ample and seemed to reach out with anticipation for his touch, as if they were aware of the great pleasure that awaited them. [Sentient breasts? Sure, why not?] As he gently caressed her peaks he looked again into her spectacular eyes, blue as the glacier lakes that lay amongst the surrounding mountains. [You'll note the peak theme. Pay attention, it pops up again.]
[the watching horses snort with approval, no other love existed before this, blah blah blah and back to the sweet lovemaking]
She grabbed hold of her muscular cowboy's tight rear and tugged at his zipper in feverish desperation to free his manhood from its tight confinement. [At the same time? Is he Flat Stanley?] Clayton felt the heat rising from between Molly's legs. He moved forward almost touching the warm, wet invite. [Almost? Hot.]
The full moon moved out from behind the clouds where it had been hiding in order to take a peak [SEE??] and shine its bright beam down as a spotlight upon the two lovers."
I tell you what, it's hard to type this. I keep inadvertently fixing the punctuation and correcting the word choice. It would be one thing if it was just the writing--writing like this can be fun to read and critique, but there is a genuinely hateful undertone in this book concerning the gay characters.
Sloan, who is Philip's boyfriend, outs Philip to Molly (or as Benchley refers to it, "ousted") and as a result the mystery vigilante woman pricks him with a syringe filled with HIV and two kinds of hepatitus. He, of course, instantly develops full-blown AIDS. But wait: He goes out to Montana and is killed by two of Molly's enemy's henchmen. They break his neck and set him on fire in his car. And no one, not Philip, not Philip's new more manly lover Jack, even blinks an eye. Remember, all he did was have a consensual relationship with Philip. Just . . . wow.
But wait, there's more! After Molly's friend/half sister/murderer falls off the side of a cliff into the cold, dark water, and Molly and Clayton are joined in holy matrimony, an epilogue informs us that the mystery vigilante is still at her work. After all, they never found Molly's friend's body. BAH BAH BAH! Sigh. Perhaps a sequel in the works? But how could the author top this one?
