This is the second of the series of intro books in a collection of seven of them that I've been reading lately, and for me this marks three strikes against this author.
This is a supernatural, urban fantasy, paranormal, whatever kind of a story, which is not something I'm that into, but once in a while I like to stretch and see what’s what in genres I donlt normally habituate. I'm always looking for a good, absorbing story, so while I held out little hope for this one, based on long and sad experience, I was open to something engaging me.
It wasn't this story that woudl do it! It turned me off from the start. First of all it’s worst person voice, and a sad and whiney first person this Angela character comes off to be, too. It made for a dreary and boring read, and I started skimming the pages almost right away. Nothing showed any sign of improving, so after about ten pages of this I gave up on it, and moved on to story three.
The set-up here is that Angela is part of a coven, and she's in her twenty-first year, which is when she's supposed to bond with a 'consort' to set her up for her future as head of the clan. Why a consort rather than a partner or a husband or whatever, goes unaddressed. Why a witch even needs a man at all is left unanswered, apart form vague hand-waving at the idea that this will ensure she comes into her full powers. What - a witch is uselsess without a man to trigger her? Shades of Grace Slick's Across the Board!
Why the 21st year is the magical one also goes wanting an explanation. So Angela is supposed to be this eventual coven leader, and she's a witch, but apparently it’s never crossed her mind, nor one single mind of the generations of witches that came and went prior to her that maybe, being a witch, she can find some spell to point her to her prospect? Apparently despite their witch powers, all of these morons just sit around all day singing "Some day my prince will come" or something like that. I guess. I'm sorry, but that is truly pathetic and I am not interested. Why are female authors so often the worst possible enemy to their female charcters? Wait is that enemy or enema? Does it even matter?
In Angela's case it’s all exacerbated because she's a special snowflake who has this recurring dream in which her man shows up, but she has no idea who he is. He's predictably tall and handsome - in this case also dark - with broad shoulders and all the other studly traits women apparently fantasize about bedding when approaching ovulation. The book description actually says that 'the clock is ticking,' which is even more pathetic. The opening pages were exactly what I’d expect from an author who wants to drag out an average story to wasteful serial lengths: slow, unimaginative, humdrum and boring. I cannot commend this one based on what I skimmed of it, unless you want a non-pharmaceutical means of putting yourself to sleep for the night.
