Heather Graves

For a book I picked up on impulse* because the cover had a horse on it, there wasn't much of a focus on the actual horses. (And what there was, needed work.)

Let's kick off with the numerous horsey errors: no one is training a Sydney Listed race winner from 3 hours north of Cairns. No one's training any racehorses 3 hours north of Cairns because you're too far from any tracks that race regularly. If Graves desperately wanted tropical setting with cane fields and beaches, move them down to Innisfail. (They still wouldn't have one black type horse in their stable, let alone two, but it would be slightly more realistic.)

Also, when Robert steals the Hunter's Moon? There's no way he got that horse on a flight from Melbourne to Cairns. Big name trainers have difficulty flying horses between Melbourne and Sydney, with plenty of notice, let alone from Cairns at the last minute (I'm not convinced Cairns airport is set up to fly horses at all, but I'm not certain).

You don't try to geld a colt in the middle of it's racing prep. You leave it until the horse is ready to spell and give it several weeks off.

Ryan had already put the protective socks on his legs and was loading the horse.

Boots. The word you're looking for is boots, not socks. Why do people decide to write about horse racing when they know nothing about horses? Why do editors take on books about horse racing and never stop to consult with some who might actually know something about horse racing?

Equine fails aside, the characters are bland and unsubtle: the "bad" women wear too much makeup and abuse animals, and the men shout a lot and have affairs. Ryan and Chrissie fall madly in love after their very first interaction .

...crushing her in his arms in a moment, almost biting her lips as he ground them under his own before parting her teeth with his tongue ... Vaguely, he was aware of a murmured objection as he unfastened her seat belt and deepened the kiss but he didn't stop because he couldn't.

Heather Graves, who hurt you? That description left my vagina drier than the Sahara. Inexperienced and rapey 20-year-olds are not sexy. Although that relationship does lead to this absolute pearler of a line:

"We're not related," Chrissie hugged him. "I feel as if I've had the best Christmas and birthday present all rolled into one."

The whole novel is brimming with death and disaster - the body count is higher than an episode of Game of Thrones . It feels like every event has to be dialled up to eleven because the author isn't talented enough to show emotion for anything less than death, death and more death. (With a side serve of terminal illness, kidnapping, surprise pregnancy, shotgun weddings and hidden adoptions.) Everything involving the humans is tied up far too neatly at the end, while the future of Hunter's Moon (supposedly the centre of the story) is left with a vague implication that he'll head to the Melbourne Cup *eye roll*.

I honestly don't know how some people can criticise YA when this drivel is out there claiming to be adult fiction.

*I have more than 600 books on my TBR list, why do I impulsively pick up tripe??… (mere)