Fiction Vixen is pleased to welcome Insane Hussein today to review Celebrity in Death by J.D. Robb
Thanks to Fiction Vixen for sending me this latest installment of J.D. Robb’s appallingly amazing In Death series so I could lust for Roarke. Really. Thank you.
Celebrity in Death is the 34th book in the In Death series. Holy crap, that’s a lot of books. A. Lot.
I enjoyed this book much more than I enjoyed New York to Dallas. This one was endearing, while being more in depth and stronger characterization. The dead person was the missy miss playing Peabody in the new Icove movie, who was a totally hobagalicious skank bitch. Forrealz. No one liked her but she got deader than dead within the first few chapters and the world blew up and became Raptured. Or that was just the media.
We also saw some poignant moments in the book, particularly between She-body and Bony-assed McNab. Rawr. Since I don’t want to give spoilers, I will just tell you to read the book. Know the sweetness.
This story followed Robb’s standard formula of something or other being done, person gets killed, Dallas and Peabody on the case with their trusty EDD lovahs, Roarke hotness, we indirectly know who the killer is and resolution. However, it also characterizes the victim, who was no victim in life.
This bitch took life by the balls and made it her bitch. While I did not like how she went about living her life, I do have to admire that she owned her life. Dallas and Peabody learn a lot about the victim and her beginnings.
There was also an awkward moment between Dallas and Feeney. It was funny.
We also saw some hot McLovin’ a la Roarke, the hot hotness that is Irish hotness. Really, I’m so in lust with a fictional character that I can’t even articulate well. DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY LOVE?!
Seriously, I don’t know how to write this without giving spoilers. I WANT TO SO BADLY!
So I will end with, read this book. Read. It. And know the good times that came from it. It’s opening us to an anti-climax but I hope that Eve doesn’t get pregnant any time soon. That would mean the end of my literary love with Roarke. And that would be a sad day, indeed.
Now I want a taco. Not a spicy one, cuz I’m all het-up from fantasizing about Roarke. Maybe no sour cream, cuz yea, um, yea, um uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. Heh.