Posted on March 27, 2017
Mini-review: Good Girl by Lauren Layne
Jenny Dawson moved to Nashville to write music, not get famous. But when her latest record goes double platinum, Jenny’s suddenly one of the town’s biggest stars—and the center of a tabloid scandal connecting her with a pop star she’s barely even met. With paparazzi tracking her every move, Jenny flees to a remote mansion in Louisiana to write her next album. The only hiccup is the unexpected presence of a brooding young caretaker named Noah, whose foul mouth and snap judgments lead to constant bickering—and serious heat.
Noah really should tell Jenny that he’s Preston Noah Maxwell Walcott, the owner of the estate where the feisty country singer has made her spoiled self at home. But the charade gives Noah a much-needed break from his own troubles, and before long, their verbal sparring is indistinguishable from foreplay. But as sizzling nights give way to quiet pillow talk, Noah begins to realize that Jenny’s almost as complicated as he is. To fit into each other’s lives, they’ll need the courage to face their problems together—before the outside world catches up to them.
I think I prefer Lauren Layne’s adult contemporaries where I can find mature realistic romance with swoon, chemistry and banter. I find her latest NA novels (Blurred Lines, Good Girl) lacking something. Don’t get me wrong, these books are good quality novels, but they are typical NA and miss some Lauren Layne’s magic that I’ve come to expect from her books.
I can copy the list of things I didn’t like from my Blurred Lines review, because I feel the same way about Good Girl. Where is humor? Where is chemistry? Where is characters’ growth? What left is meaningless sexy times and silly dialogues. I used to enjoy her NA titles; I loved Isn’t She Lovely and Broken. I wonder if my tastes changed that much, or if Lauren Layne shifted her stories into typical NA territory.
Despite my issues with this book Lauren Layne stays on my autobuy list, I just hope that one of her NA stories would sweep me off my feet. Is it too much to ask?
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