Thursday, December 9, 2021

ALL I WANT, as frothy and fun and sweet as a venti toasted white chocolate mocha


ALL I WANT
STELLA STARLING

Self-published (non-affiliate Amazon link)
$4.99 Kindle edition, available now

Rating: 4* of five, caveat: straight people are strongly cautioned

The Publisher Says: “All I want for Christmas is someone to love.”

Shy retail clerk Elliott Gaffney’s Christmas wish isn’t something Santa can grant him, but that doesn’t stop it from being his favorite time of year. Especially since he gets to work at Chicago’s prestigious Ashby’s department store in “the North Pole,” doing his part to make the magic of Christmas come alive for others.

All Bennett “Ash” Ashby wants for Christmas is to forget about it. Unfortunately, his father is forcing him to pay penance for the media frenzy caused by his latest public sex scandal. The Ashby heir, working as a lowly department store Santa? Only the fact that no one will know it’s really him can save Ash the embarrassment of being stuck in a fat suit instead of partying with his friends.

But when Elliott catches Ash’s eye, Christmas starts to look a whole lot brighter. And even though Elliott would never have the guts to say yes if he knew who Ash really was, falling for “Ben,” the new Santa, is another story all together…

I RECEIVED THIS HOLIDAY THEMED ROMANCE AS A FREEBIE ON AMAZON.

My Review
: There are far, far, far too many w-bombs (over a dozen!) in this book. A few of them at the beginning are not what they initially seem to be, but the fact is that they don’t stop coming.

Speaking of coming…there’s more of that than I expected in a silly frothing Holiday-season treat like this book. It was an agreeable surprise that I got as much as I did, since it suited my mood that day perfectly. What was also comforting and comfortable was the plot’s absence of fanciness. There wasn’t anything grafted on or poked through to make it more Writerly. It’s a straightforward workplace grump-and-sunshine romp with the usual status and wealth gap.

“Ben” aka Ash the company’s big-boss’s son is forced among the hoi polloi for Xmas…into duty as the flagship store’s Santa! Tell me that’s for a single second believable…but Elliott, the humorously cast nutcracker positioned next to Santa, is there to whisper in “Ben”’s ear the requisite clues on how to handle the kiddies. Which he instantly turns into winning charm and sweetness!

Okay. So you see the Disbelief-alaya you’re going to be required to climb. Summiting K2 in tuxedo slippers without external oxygen would be easier for many, including me in another mood.

Also stretching one’s credulity muscles: Ash is being punished for being caught by the paparazzi in a car having sex with a fellow company director. (No word on that poor bastard’s fate. Can’t’ve been pretty.) Ash’s Page-Six priors are all with socially acceptable men…models, celebs, the like…and Ash’s father, while disapproving of his latest and one must acknowledge supremely stupid escapade, is barely even implied to be upset that it’s with a man. Just that man. And that he got caught. (Even when Ash's earlier struggles to be his queer self are touched on, they aren't foregrounded.)

For Elliott, whose gayness also isn’t remotely disapproved of by his gay and RGBFF colleagues at the store, “Ben” is the “pinch me I must be dreaming” guy, the one whose Look you intercept and turn around to see who he’s looking at…and it’s YOU!...and the bells ring and the birds sing! *wistful sigh* memories do have power.

For Ash, Elliott’s sincere and bone-deep love of the magical way the Holidays make happiness so much easier to find and to share is intoxicating. A sincere pleasure is a rare thing in the world of the very privileged. Everything is much less simple when you’re rich. Every apple has a worm; every horse is Trojan. It’s all very easy…there’s always someone whose job it is to do the labor…but you pay (and pay and pay) for it with the complete and total absence of simplicity. This is why Marie Kondo’s nonsense is so very appealing to wealthy people.

The end product of these two very different men coming (!) together is a somewhat unsustainable HEA. We're in a romance world, but still a HFN would've worked fine...and left room for Reality. These are people from radically different backgrounds, and while opposites attract, similarities endure. You're given many chances to see bits of Ash's growing up process (eg, the Grinch call from his dad, his rescue of the dog and subsequent ability to overcome his collywobbles at dealing with poochie's ticks) and similar opportunities to see Elliott coming to terms with his quite normal fears about someone as handsome as Ash falling for him. But really? What my brain says is, "not a damn chance, they're from different worlds, they'll run out of common ground in seconds flat." The gift Stella Starling has is for making my sentimental "I always cry at weddings" side ruthlessly club that bastard into submission and take over the endocrine system, flooding me with oxytocin. I want to bond, so I want Ash and Elliott to bond, and therefore the...um...not-sturdy framework (too harsh to call it "flimsy" but...) of this relationship Is. Just. FINE.

That issue firmly dealt with (ignore the muffled screams coming from my closet-locked logic centers), we can touch on (!) the sex scenes: Hot enough, not too many or too few, and VERY MUCH NOT HETERO SAFE. No! Down! The mechanics of deflowering a man aren't skimped or dwelt on; and, for a wonder, the top's the PoV character! That's not ordinary, and Stella Starling did a good job of it...sadly, not the usual case. All three of the sex scenes have a certain...lovingkindness...to them, so they're not icky but they're likely to be uncomfortably detailed for those whose tastes don't run towards men with men.

At all events, this is a novel, not a novella; this is a story, not a set-up delivered with pretty wrapping paper; and this won't weigh you down as you're sipping your venti toasted white chocolate mocha, pondering how to survive the weirdness of a second Plague Yule. Smiles and fun all the way, please, Bibliosanta!

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