When I first read the brief plot description of A Greek God at the Ladies’ Club on the list of books available for review, I was taken by what seemed to be a charming premise. And it is. But, despite the fact that I started the book interested and intrigued, the author’s execution of her admittedly nifty idea left a very great deal to be desired.

Regretfully, McNight’s book features inch-deep characterizations and consists mainly of a series of one screwball antic after another – some of them marginally funny and some of them painfully not. Frankly, it’s a shame.

Through a series of god-ly misadventures, playboy god Darius lost his body some three thousand years ago. Through a series of equally god-ly decrees, Darius can only regain his body once a perfect sculpture is made of his form. After a very long wait, St. Louis sculptor Alexandra de Marco is finally creating the statue the god needs to once again regain his body and resume his profligate ways.

An orphan who is creating the statue to be sold at the Ladies Club of the title to benefit the home where she was raised, Alex is charmed (not surprisingly) by the gorgeous work of art she is creating. Modeled on Darius’s exact form, the god soon occupies the stone form and, while waiting for the work of the art to be complete when he’ll be able to morph the statue into his body once again, Darius bides his time by channel-surfing (he’s got psychic powers, of course) and covertly assisting Alex in finding the model of the perfect penis to finish her masterpiece. (Don’t ask.)

Of course, you can guess what happens at the big “unveiling” at the Ladies Club. And, as I’m sure you’re expecting by now, hilarity ensues. Or not.

Both Alex and Darius, to be honest, never gained any more depth than the stone form that contains the god for much of the story. A talented artist, Alex was dumped by her nasty husband after an accident left her scarred (shades of Days of Our Lives). I know all these details because as the reader I was told about them. Did I ever feel even the slightest insight into her character? Not even an inkling.

Darius, too, is equally stone-ly. We’re told that he’s gorgeous, likes being the god of gems, wants his body back, likes women, and eventually grows to love Alex. Oh, yeah, and he’s good in bed. Well, a god would have to be, wouldn’t he?

Even worse, the book just isn’t funny. The author tries very, very hard to make the book amusing, but for me pretty much all of it fell flat. I may have cracked a smile here or there, but I can’t recall laughing even once. And when cardboard characters engage in keystone cops-type antics for page after page and chapter after chapter, not only is it kind of hard to follow what’s going on, it’s kind of hard just to stay even remotely interested.

I enjoy books about gods and was very much looking forward to reading one less angsty than Sherilyn Kenyon’s Dark Hunter series. I was looking forward to a fun, light, sexy read – which, as you can tell by now, I just didn’t find here. I can’t recommend this one – even if you adore books about gods or retellings of the Pygmalion tale – because of the paper-thin characterizations and pointless screwball adventures.