Midnight Mass
by Sierra Simone
Published by No Bird Press
Book 1.5 in the Priest Series
We are told that God will punish the wicked.
That sinful men will reap what they sow. We are told to scourge our souls with prayer and pain to become clean once again.
Well, here I am. Wicked and sinful. Desperate to become clean…even though it feels so good to be dirty.
But even I never expected what came next.
Even I never expected my punishment to come so soon.
Genre
Triggers
Mentions of systemic sex abuse, and a sister's death by suicide.
Miscarriage and grief.
This novella was ... meh.
Whereas I enjoyed Priest, and was able to get past the run on sentences and FMC that didn't do it for me, Midnight Mass was just ... meh.
The story could have been so powerful. In it's own way, I guess, it was.
But damn ... how did these two people end up together and last this long.
I get that the sex is part of Sierra Simone's brand - it's hot, and intense - but in this story, some of it was just so out of place.
Why bother writing a story with heavy, emotional themes, and not take some time to focus on the power of those emotions?
Character wise, whereas I liked Tyler a whole lot in Priest, I found myself just as frustrated with him as I was with Poppy. How could he be so blind to her feelings? How come she didn't make more of an effort to talk to her husband? And how are we expected to believe these two will still be together in twenty years when they both use sex in place of communication?
I know, I know.
I'm thinking too hard on this.
I guess I feel like if an author wants to write great sex - which Sierra does - then do it. The amount of it, and how they almost weaponize the act against each other, just didn't match the tone of this story. It just didn't work here, like it did in Priest.
It sounds like I'm hating on this book. I didn't hate it. I didn't love it. I just felt lukewarm about it. If there was a little bit less sex, and some more emotional maturity between these characters, I think I would have liked it a whole lot more. And as much as I was really looking forward to Tyler's brother's books, I got half way through Sinner and gave up.
Again, I didn't hate it. I just didn't feel enough to continue. So tell me, what do you think of this series? Should I go back and finish? Do any of them live up to Priest? Let me know!
by purchasing this book through one of my Amazon links, the Amazon gods with bless me with a few pennies as thanks.
Poppy: “Do you still want to have children?”
Well, that was an abrupt change of subject.
Tyler: “Of course I do,”
I said, kissing the back of her neck.
Tyler: “I want you to be pregnant all the time. I want you to have nine thousand of my babies.”
She giggled, and I pressed my hands against her stomach, smiling into her neck. I loved her laugh. It sounded noble, royal even, like I was the knight who’d managed to charm his way into some queen’s bed.
Poppy: “Nine thousand is a tall order, even for us,
Tyler: “Nine hundred?”
Poppy: “Still a bit ambitious.”
Tyler: “Okay,”
I sighed heavily.
Tyler: “Nine, then. You did it, you talked me down.”
Poppy: “Nine kids.”
She tried to keep a flat, mock-serious tone, but she failed, dissolving into sleep-delirious giggles again.
Tyler: “I’m Irish, Poppy. Genetically we can have no less than nine children.”
Poppy: “Or what? Saint Patrick will chase all the snakes back into Ireland?”
Tyler: “How did you know? We only tell that to initiates into the ritual.”
Millie: "They keep trying to feed me prune juice. Do you know how many years I’ve managed not to drink that stuff?”
I snorted.
Tyler: “I suppose they won’t let you add some gin to that juice?”
Millie: “The Baptists run this place and they’re fucking teetotalers,”
Life is a spiral. As long as we lived, we would keep moving forward. But on a spiral path, getting closer to your destination meant periodically passing the same things—emotions, issues, character flaws—over and over again, the way a person walking up a spiral staircase would continually find himself facing north every ten steps or so.
Professor Morales: “Okay,”
she said into the phone. And then,
Professor Morales: “Yes, I have a ride to the hospital.”
Like a character in a sitcom, I instinctively glanced behind me, as if searching for another person in the room, and then I realized—I was the ride to the hospital. As if sensing my burgeoning panic, Morales met my eyes as she hung up the phone.
Professor Morales: “Tyler, you have to stop with those puppy eyes. I can’t handle them even when I’m not—ugh.”
She bent over again, both hands on the desk, breathing hard. Unsure of what to do, I patted her awkwardly on the back.
Professor Morales: “Don’t. Touch. Me,”
she snarled.
Tyler: “Yes, ma’am.”
Good Guy Tyler would probably need lots more things. But Good Guy Tyler wasn’t here right now. Father Bell was here instead. And church was in session.
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