Okay, so maybe this isn’t the most artful romance novel I’ve ever read, but, as fantasies, go, it’s a darn good one.
As someone who obsessively read Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in my early teenage years and who sighed endlessly over that original Star Trek episode in which the history officer got to do it with Apollo, I’ll admit that a modern-woman-meets-Greek-god-kind-of-guy premise is right up my alley. So, with that bias already firmly in place, I very much enjoyed both Night Pleasures and its prequel, Fantasy Lover. Sometimes you just have to go with it, you know?
Amanda Devereaux is determined to be normal – not easy when everyone in your family is a bit whacked out and obsessed with various aspects of the paranormal. When she goes late one night to let out her twin sister’s dog, she is attacked – and then double attacked – by mysterious creatures. Turns out that the first attacker – the Greek god (sort of) – was out to get her vampire-hunting sister when both were in turn knocked out and kidnapped by a really evil demon engaged in a longstanding battle with the Greek guy – one Kyrian of Thrace.
Kyrian is also known as The Dark Hunter, one of a breed of sort of vampire-like creatures (though they don’t really drink the blood of humans, or at least not much) who dedicate themselves to protecting humans from a group of soul-sucking demons who prey on poor little us. Got that? For many reasons that really aren’t that related to having a good time with this book, innocent Amanda gets caught up in the battle and finds herself having to spend lots and lots of time with major babe Kyrian.
Lots of things here really don’t stand up to close scrutiny, but (for once) I really didn’t care. Hey, Kyrian is one great fantasy guy. He dresses in a lot of black leather. He drives a Lamborghini. He’s got lots of money and really likes to buy gifts, including very expensive clothes. He’s a prince. He likes kids. And he’s heart stoppingly gorgeous.
Heroine Amanda nicely serves the purpose of stand-in for the reader. She’s normal with a normal kind of job, and is basically like a lot of us with the important exceptions of that wacky family and the fact that she herself is a psychic of enormous talent that she refuses to accept.
I’ll admit the mythology that Kenyon has created is a bit too complicated and at some point there, I definitely started to zone out. Equally, sometimes the dialogue is almost excruciatingly clunky. And, like my colleague Rachel Potter (whose review follows mine and was posted first), I think that the mental lusting was way out of line.
But, with all that said, this book perfectly fit the bill for the rainy Sunday afternoon that I spent reading it. You know, sometimes nothing else will do but a perfectly prepared and presented four-course meal. And sometimes all it takes is a Hershey bar.