I am the proud owner of a good many of my grandmother's Dorothy Garlock books. She gave them to me because we both share a deep love for books and she knows that I will take care of them.

However.

I read this book one time already, and over the week I've been perusing the pages of this book again. To read the book once is to say that you are bored and need quiet reprieve from the brow-beating literary artists that scream down from your personal library shelves. To read the book twice is to openly admit that you are a derelict and a masochist and you want your brain to be beaten with a whip some more.

The plot is decent. The characters...unbelievable. The dialogue...filthy AND unbelievable. The situations the characters fall into...stupid. The love scenes...pardon me while I vomit in my mouth.

I wish this book were better. I don't like knowing my little grandmother sits and reads these things. Dorothy Garlock should forego writing about shooting people in the kneecaps in her books in the future. It doesn't belong in Grandma Literature. ( )