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Most people who know me know that I'm a voracious reader, crossing all genres. I tend to go through phases, where I will read (for example) sci-fi and nothing but sci-fi; then I get over that and I read adventure, and nothing but adventure. Every book I ever read from "Oprah's list" nearly put me to sleep or so disappointed me I wondered if disliking a book Oprah was gushing about meant I'm a shallow reader. Anyway, I tell you that so you know where I'm coming from when I say what I'm going to say next.

Stay by Moriah Jovan is one of the best books I've ever read. Ever, not recently - ever.

This is the second book in what is known as the Tales of Dunham series by Moriah Jovan. The first was The Proviso, which I reviewed then accidentally lost in a database deletion here at my blog. Never fear, however - Moriah saved it at The Proviso website. Follow that link and scroll all the way down to the end if you want to read it.

You don't have to read The Proviso before you read Stay. Some of the characters overlap, but Jovan has done a wonderful job of letting the characters from one enter into the next book without the need to read the first book. Oh, you might want to go back and read The Proviso anyway because you're going to fall in love with Knox (don't worry - everyone does, apparently), so you're going to want to know more about him - and The Proviso is his story. But it isn't essential before you read Stay.

Here's what I liked most about The Proviso - the characters. And that goes ten times over for Stay because now those characters are combined with a much better (in my opinion) story line and writing. Not that the writing in The Proviso is bad - it's good - but Stay is better. Again, my opinion. Because I don't want to give away any of the story, I'm going to mostly talk about the characters and the setting and the writing. If you want to know what the story is about - get the book and read it!

When you read Jovan's books, you just know these characters are like real people to her. She knows them like she knows her own family. Actually, she knows them better than her own family, since she knows their motives and what they're thinking. If you get her talking about them, you'll forget that they are just the imaginary people who live in her head. She makes them real, however and wherever she presents them. And because of that, she also agonizes over their lives - to the point where sometimes it seems like she forgets that she's the one in charge of their lives! All of this familiarity and love for these people comes out in the writing and the story. Because she believes in them, you will start to believe in them. She writes the characters and the stories so well that you, the reader, will become wrapped up in their lives and care deeply about what is going to happen to them.

Finishing this book brought back the same feeling I had when I finished the third book in George R. R. Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire" series - and I realized it wasn't just a trilogy, as I had thought (hell, he's just getting started!). I literally  screamed with frustration. I didn't scream when I finished Stay, but I came close to it! I was so completely drawn into the story and the characters and their lives, I felt impatient when it ended. But... but... what happens next? what about these other characters? what happens to them? You finish Stay not only wanting to know if you will pick up more of Eric and Vanessa's stories in subsequent Tales of Dunham, but NOW you also want to know about all the other characters that were introduced! Jovan demonstrates her mastery of the admonition always leave them wanting more. The worst part of it is, we have to wait until April 2011 before the next in the Dunham series will be published. I may be re-reading Stay a couple more times, to tide me over! And by the way, if you mosey on over to the Proviso website, you will find a bonus in the Dirty Little Secrets section. If you want something to tide you over until the next book, satisfy yourself with getting even more character background - these are freebies that tell some of the back story of the characters.

What I really like about the story is that there's no subterfuge or manipulation of the reader. In most many stories involving romantic relationships, the conflict between the two romantic characters is artificially (IMO) created by a "misunderstanding." Which is why I stopped reading most romances - that "misunderstanding" and manipulation of the reader really gets old and tiring. Stay is not a typical romance. Eric and Vanessa, our two romantic characters, have no misunderstanding about why they aren't together - can't be together. Those reasons are very clear from the beginning, as soon as grown-up Eric and grown-up Vanessa meet and fall in love. I like it because it makes me feel like Jovan understands that adults are reading this book. (Given the sex, I sure hope only adults are reading this book!)

But don't dismiss this as "just a romance," and don't skip it because you "don't read romance." If Jovan writes "romance," then it's romance like nothing you've ever read. Her books don't neatly fill into the "romance" slot. Yes, they involve romance and romantic love, but Jovan is very deep and she writes very deep. Her characters are multilayered and her stories are multilayered and it all goes deeper than and is entwined with the romantic aspects of the story.

OK, I brought it up - I'll talk about the sex. There's much less of it than in The Proviso. I admit that the sex in The Proviso nearly tired me out, just reading it. It's there in Stay, but (for me, at least) it was less emotionally exhausting to read it. Probably this says less about the sex in Stay than it does about the difference in the characters and their backgrounds - those Dunhams are stormy, emotional and physical people! Eric and Vanessa aren't Tribe members by blood, only by inclusion. Eric and Vanessa are healthy, sexually active young adults, so there's no doubt (other than the fact that this is a romance story) that there will be sex, but it's also clear that Eric and Vanessa lead busy lives outside the bedroom. (Raise your hand if you've never fallen asleep during sex. Yeah, that's what I thought!) The sex is erotic, tender, touching. It will make you laugh and cry, which is good.

I also like that Jovan sets her stories in a location we typically wouldn't see. I mean c'mon - how many stories have you read that were set in Kansas City? Yeah, that's what I thought! In much the same way that Jovan knows and loves her characters, which brings them to life on the pages of her books, she also knows and loves the Kansas City area. Read this story and then come back here and tell me if you don't think someday there are going to be Tales of Dunham tours going on all over the Kansas City area, with side trips down to the Ozarks. You heard it here first, folks! (She used to have some fabulous pictures of KC on one of the web sites but I couldn't find them - maybe she'll come comment and provide a link, if they're still there.)

As you can probably tell (was I gushing?) - I loved everything about this book. If this represents the kind of growth we can expect to see with each new book by Jovan, it's going to be exciting to watch her and it's going to be a joy to continue to read her books.

Disclaimer: I didn't get paid to write this review nor do I make any money if you go order it. But I am going to tell you - go order it! NOW! There's no accounting for taste but I'm pretty sure mine is pretty mainstream, so I'm going to go out on a limb and tell you that you won't regret it. Now, if you click on that "Song of Ice and Fire" link and go to Amazon and buy something, then I get paid as an Amazon affiliate - just letting you know. But I have read those books at least twice now and they're cheap at twice the price if you like sci-fi sagas and court intrigue.

Bryce had arisen before Giselle awoke. She smiled as she grabbed his pillow and sniffed deeply. Once she had showered and dressed, she went downstairs to find him. She couldn't and the house was quiet. Then she heard water running, possibly from a garden hose, and the sounds of squishing and metal on metal. She followed it out the back door to the long verandah and saw Bryce, clad in short denim shorts and steel-toed boots, most of his body exposed. His back to her, he mixed mortar in a wheelbarrow with a hoe. Nearby were two pallets of flat stones. The muscles of his back and arms bunched and unbunched under all those beautiful battle wounds. So. He was a stonemason in his free time. She leaned against the column of the porch, her arms crossed, and just watched him work. He never turned around, never saw her watching him while he worked the cement and sand and water, and she wondered if he used this to exorcise some demons or frustrations. Troubled then, as if she had peeped at something private, she went back into the house to see what she could see and make herself useful. She knew he had lemons because she'd made the hollandaise sauce with juice she'd squeezed. She found some strawberries to puree and use as sweetener. They'd sweeten it enough for her, but probably not enough for Bryce, so she poured a quart of the lemonade for herself, then dumped a cupful of sugar into his jar and hoped she'd estimated well enough. When she finally went outside with the glasses, she saw him up to his elbows in mortar, having begun his project while she'd made the lemonade. He barely glanced up at her before finishing his first course. She sat down on the top step of the porch and sipped her lemonade, watching him heft stone with one hand, butter with the other, set precisely, and then tap gently, patiently, until satisfied it lay perfectly. No wonder his hands were so rough, so calloused. No wonder he could lift her so easily and put her wherever he wanted her. Her arousal crept up on her as she watched him twist and lift, set and level stone. She studied his hips and his ass and the outline of his penis where it nestled in his groin, all covered by a mere scrap of very tight, very revealing denim. She took a long look at his musclebound legs that disappeared into white socks, then the brown high-top boots. She sighed when she thought of what that body could do to her and had done to her and what more she'd like for it to do to her. What she wanted to do to it. She couldn't stop staring. He was beautiful. And he was hers.

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"Did you do this, Eilis?" Sebastian asked. "This garden?" "Yes." "I'm- This is- Breathtaking." "Would you like a tour?" she asked, hesitant, as if she didn't trust that he was telling her the truth. "Yes, I would love one." She didn't seem inclined to talk and neither did he. He took in every bit of color and he knew she was watching him. At this point, he wasn't sure if he wanted more to stare at Eilis or Eilis's garden. In the back of the house was a swimming pool. Winding around the property, there were cobbled paths that served as a simple framework for its various beds of autumn flowers that, around trees, were built with stacked stone and, on the hills and in the dales, with no banding whatsoever. One path diverged and meandered through the lawn, then turned and disappeared into a small glade. Mourning doves and other evening birds called; frogs croaked. Around the bend of the path, there was a very wide stone bridge over a creek. In it, she'd planted lemon grass to keep mosquitoes away and rushes, and had strategically placed rocks so as to get a gurgling sound that she could probably hear on a still night, to clean the water as it went through, and to keep mosquitoes at bay. "Eilis," he said suddenly, earnestly, his attraction to her only increasing exponentially at this display of artistry and skill. "You are a master gardener. I might not know much, but I do know that. You've done this magnificent work yourself and I-" He stopped and looked around. "I'm awed. I could spend days lost in here." She sniffled and he went around her to find her with her hand to her nose and tears streaming down her face. "What? What did I say?" he asked, almost panicking because he must have said the exact wrong thing. "My-" She gulped and tried to squelch a hiccup. "David- My ex-husband. He thought it was a waste of time." "Eilis, look at me." He knew she didn't want to because she was crying, but she did anyway. "The man embezzled almost a hundred million dollars from you, half of which Knox wasn't able to recover. Why would you care about his opinion?" "I don't care, exactly," she said. "But I had to redo my entire garden to get rid of the sound of his mocking in my head. I still don't bring anybody here in case they... I don't know why I let you see it." "Eilis, this is a work of art," he murmured. "I've been to the best gardens in the world and this-this work you have created with your own two hands-rivals them all." He could see that she wanted to believe what he said, but didn't really. "Eilis." He loved her name and said it every chance he got. "I speculate in art. I know greatness when I see it." This time he didn't ask permission first. He enfolded her in his arms, the back of her head in his palm, and kissed her. Lightly at first, he felt her acquiesce; deepening the kiss, his tongue teasing hers, pleading with her to come play with him, he felt her melt into him. If he thought Knox wouldn't crack his head open for it, he'd lay her down in a bed of dying wildflowers and make love to her right then and there, amongst the wonder she'd built.

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Sebastian wandered around the exhibit drinking a punch that was slightly less offensive than the cheap champagne, brooding over why Miss Logan hadn't wanted to be with him tonight. Bored and only happening to catch a glimpse of a very tall blonde entering the gallery long after the unveiling, he ambled along behind her to see what he could see. When she turned, his breath caught in his throat and he nearly dropped his glass. She had one green eye and one blue eye, and they sparkled merrily as she looked around her. Her mouth was full and curving in a generous yet sensual smile. She had soft, straight butter-blonde hair to the middle of her biceps where it curled at the ends and lacked the harshness of any chemical coloring. Her body was lush, shown to perfection in a shimmering iridescent dark copper gown cut like a double-breasted tuxedo jacket that flared out into a long bell skirt to her ankles. Her lapels were iridescent black. Her sleeves stopped just below her elbows and were turned up in French cuffs that matched her lapels. She had high heels on, which made her stand head and shoulders above everyone else. She was stunning, a Viking goddess, and he smiled, looking down into his glass and shaking his head. Whatever he'd expected Eilis Logan to look like under all that badly fitting Chanel, pancake makeup, brown contact lenses, and hair-darkening gel, this was not it. He walked over to her, hooking her elbow in his right hand and gently pulling her away from the paintings. She gasped in protest and then stilled when she saw who he was, angry that she'd been caught. "I have an eye for detail, Miss Logan," he purred in her ear, not having let go of her and, in fact, pulling her even closer to him. Any excuse-he'd take it. "I will admit you have a very good act; you even have Knox fooled and it's not easy to do that when he's actually paying attention." She looked straight at him, no shorter than he in four-inch heels. Her two different-colored eyes blazed. "Let me go," she whispered hotly, and he was very pleased to know there was passion and fire under that luscious skin-and that he really could get to her. "I didn't come here to be 'on.' I came here to enjoy myself without being reminded of my humiliation by every mogul in the room." He could see how that would be distressing to her, now that she mentioned it. "I'm sorry," he said and released her, stepping back and into cool King Midas once again. "I didn't think." "No, you didn't," she shot back, though still quiet. "I would like for you to figure out when it would be most convenient to let me have a vacation. I need one. Badly. If I must take it up with the prosecutor myself, then I will do so. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go look at this man's work in peace." "Wait," he said, unsure what he was going to say. She had barely turned and she stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. "I- May I accompany you through the exhibit?" "Why?" His mouth tightened. "Because I would like to, if you would allow me the pleasure." Her eyes widened at his sudden formality, but he was pretty impressed with himself for not actually looking like a complete buffoon. He'd actually said what he meant to say. "Pleasure? You don't even like me." He looked at her, confused. "Why would you assume that?" She stared at him for what seemed like hours, then finally said, "Well." Her mouth twitched indecisively for a moment. "All right. I suppose I can't stop you." It wasn't much, but it was a start.

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