5 outta 5 hysterical Stars!
Claire is a twenty-something, single mom that grudgingly helps her best friend sell sex toys while she attempts to make enough money to start her own business to give her foul-mouthed, but extremely loveable (when he’s asleep) toddler a better life.
When Carter, the one-night-stand from her past that changed her life forever, shows up in her hometown bar without any recollection of her besides her unique chocolate scent, Claire will make it a point that he remembers her this time.
With Carter’s undisguised shock at suddenly finding out he has a four-year-old son and Claire’s panic that her stretch marks and slim to none bedroom experience will send the man of her dreams heading for the hills, the pair will do whatever they can to get their happily ever after.
Warning: contains explicit sex, profanity and enough sarcasm to choke a horse.
Ok, I don’t know what my damage was, taking THIS long to read this book. Seriously – anyone who quotes Heather’s as much as Tara Sivec is kind of like my soul-mate.
Her writing style is pretty unique. I can’t say I’ve ever read another author quite like her – she is SO fast-paced-funny-snarky-self-depricating-halarious-anti-hero that I kind of want to stalk her and become her new BFF.
Claire: She won me at hating kids. Seriously, the first lines are “Hello, my name is Claire Morgan and I never want to have children” SOLD!
I could tell right away, this chick and I were going to have A LOT in common – until the whole, she becomes a mom thing. But, as throughout the whole book Sivec shows you the ugly side of mommy-hood and raising a boy who is too much like his mother, mouth and all. You cringe, you laugh your ass off – and you call your best friend and tell her apparently it’s not weird for a four year old boy to go around talking about his wiener all the time, because this kid in the book your reading is doing the same thing.
Because all the conversation she has with her best-dildo-slinging-friend are the same ridiculous conversations I’ve had with my best friend. The conversations everyone else would think you’re CRAZY to have – let alone in public.
This is a story about a girl – who met a boy – and said boy – well …… there’s a WHOLE lotta’ story that goes along those lines, and I don’t want to spoil the fun for you.
But know this – if you meet a guy who quotes Heather’s? KNOW he’s a keeper –
“And let’s face it people, no one is ever honest with you about child birth. Not even your mother. “It’s a pain you forget all about once you have that sweet little baby in your arms.” Bullshit. I CALL BULLSHIT. Any friend, cousin, or nosey-ass stranger in the grocery store that tells you it’s not that bad is a lying sack of shit. Your vagina is roughly the size of the girth of a penis. It has to stretch and open and turn into a giant bat cave so the life-sucking human you’ve been growing for nine months can angrily claw its way out. Who in their right mind would do that willingly? You’re just walking along one day and think to yourself, “You know, I think it’s time I turn my vagina into an Arby’s Beef and Cheddar (minus the cheddar) and saddle myself down for a minimum of eighteen years to someone who will suck the soul and the will to live right out of my body so I’m a shell of the person I used to be and can’t get laid even if I pay for it.”
“I had been out of the game for too long. I couldn’t even get drunk and flirt anymore. I could however, get drunk and look like a stroke victim.”
“I suddenly had a vision of my sperm swimming around and talking in Bruce Willis’s voice like in Look Who’s Talking. “Come on! Swim faster! This little shit has no idea we escaped from the condom! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!”
“Who keeps putting alcohol in my alcohol?”
“I was going to have to tell people I got fired from selling dildos. I can’t even sell fake cocks to a room full or horny women. How do you come back from that shit?”
“Give me a cat over a kid any day. You can open up a bag of Meow Mix, plop it down on the floor next to a bucket of water, go on vacation for a week, and come home to an animal that is so busy licking it’s own ass that it has no idea you were even gone. You can’t do that with a kid. Well, I guess you could, but I’m sure it’s frowned upon in most circles. And if my kid could lick his own ass, I’d have saved a shit load of money on diapers, I can tell you that.”