I love Karen Marie Moning. She is one hundred percent guilty
pleasure, like eating a rich, delicious chocolate cake that you know is too big of a slice and you know pretty much makes up your entire ideal calorie count
for the next three days, but you’re doing it anyway. Her romances are so
over-the-top sometimes that you feel like she’s utterly aware of the inherent
cheesiness of the genre—and is rolling around in it like a kitten in catnip,
inviting you to join her. And I’m right there with her, every time, furry
little paws in the air, batting at invisible butterflies.
With the Fever series, though, her writing takes a darker turn. I wouldn’t call this series
romance. It has a strong romantic undercurrent, and its hero and heroine mostly
adhere to romance novel archetypes. But the story itself is more fantasy than
romance, and the romantic arc draws out over several novels. Here’s where we
meet the deadly-sexy-dangerous JZB—my favorite evil-dark-hero-badass of all
time. Yes, I must speak in giddy hyphens when referring to him. He is too much
to describe in just one single word.
Iced is a spinoff of
the Fever series, told from the
perspective of Dani, a fourteen-year-old girl with special powers—a peripheral
character in the Fever books. As
with those, I wouldn’t call this a romance—instead, like the heroine, it’s
growing up slowly, and you know one day it’ll evolve into a brilliant romantic
future. It’s just not quite there yet.
There are several different candidates put forward for the
man who will evolve into Dani’s hero. One is a JZB equivalent character—much
older than he looks, keeping dangerous secrets, and truly badass. But this guy
doesn’t quite stand up to the JZB example to me. Maybe it’s the age difference,
but Ryodan strikes me more as the creepy uncle you walked in on having sex that
one time—and you’re still scarred—than as a potential love interest.
And where JZB never could or wanted to control Mac—the
heroine of the Fever series—I found
Ryodan’s interactions with Dani to be too controlling. True, Dani is a child.
But she has a very vibrant and strong personality, and the way Ryodan bosses
her around makes him a dangerous adversary—but also makes me not want to root
for them as a future couple. Maybe the difference is explained best by Dani
herself, who once compared JZB to a wild animal and Ryodan to a machine. The
wild animal doesn’t seek to control others—and the only gift he can give
someone else is her freedom. I think ultimately, that’s what makes a dark hero
like him work. At least for me.
Then there’s Christian. Sexy Christian, who’s evolving into
a powerful but also out-of-control supernatural creature because of some kind
of curse he picked up in the Fever
series. I thought he had potential at first. But his level of intense interest
in Dani—who is, don’t forget, only fourteen—and the other creepy stuff he keeps
doing (you’ll have to read the book for that; I don’t want to spoil it) puts
him officially in the friend zone for me. I don’t think he’s hero material in
this book, although he could make that transition in a different one—and I’d
like to see that.
To be honest—and this is a surprise to me—my favorite
candidate for Dani’s future main squeeze is Dancer. Dancer is not a supernatural
being. He’s also not a lot older than Dani. He’s a normal human boy, and true,
he’s really smart. But he’s not a typical romance novel hero. He’s not
powerful. He’s not alpha. He’s not intimidated by Christian or Ryodan, both of
whom are plenty intimidating. But he’s not a testosterone-happy posturer,
either. He quietly gets the job done. He shows himself out. He’s there when she
needs him.
My hero tastes run more toward the JZB-style dark hero than
the nice, ordinary guy—at least in fiction. But KMM makes that nice guy attractive.
Through Dani’s eyes, Dancer comes off as
truly the strongest and most mature of all of them—despite lacking special
powers of his own or a supernaturally extended lifespan. (Sigh. I just re-read
that sentence. MAN, I am such a paranormal romance geek.) For Dani, who is a
bold, brave, larger-than-life character herself, that may be just what she
needs. Strong, solid, and steady—someone she can make a life with.
As for what I’m drinking when I read this novel: champagne.
Not expensive champagne. But definitely champagne. It’s light, it’s
intoxicating, and you get so drunk on it you’re a little embarrassed the next
day—but you just can’t stop guzzling it. It’s the equivalent of alcoholic
sunshine—or, dare I say it, catnip. This is a thick book, and I finished it in
a single joyous, orgiastic weekend of reading. I bet you will, too.
