Killing Cupid Read Free Page B

reader, Aparkinson, has awarded this product * * * * *. Five stars. It was a review of TLA .
    ‘Sublime, erotic masterpiece,’ was the sub-heading. I quickly scanned the page, superlatives jumping out all over the place at me. It was a rave review, so glowing it was almost neon. In fact – and I never thought I’d say this – it was almost too glowing. Pleased as I was, it was embarrassing, too. Like that creep at the gym that time, who kept going on about how sexy my calves were. Nice to have the compliment, but a bit much really.
    I couldn’t even think who Aparkinson was, until I saw the note at the end:
    ‘Dear Siobhan, I read your book. In case you don’t look at Bookjungle.’ (As if! All authors look at Bookjungle.) ‘I thought you might appreciate my posting. I really loved it. All the very best, see you in class. Alex.’
    Alex – the boy rebel. How weird! I wouldn’t have put him down for a pink-ribbon gushy kind of guy. But I had wondered if he fancied me.
    He might not, though. Perhaps he just genuinely loved the book. It’s very sweet of him.
    I wasn’t quite sure how to react. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Thanks?
    I re-read the review more slowly. I can’t say I wasn’t chuffed – it’s been years since anyone posted a review of TLA , not since that bastard who proclaimed it ‘Unreadable – the worst book I ever read,’ and gave it no stars.
    It was, admittedly, lovely to see such a nice one, and to know it’s on the internet for all to see. I kind of wish he hadn’t put his name, though, so the other students, when they eventually – and inevitably – look it up, don’t discount it because they know that he knows me.
    Can’t resist transcribing a few choice quotes:
    ‘The central character, Tara, is incandescent, shining on the page, the kind of person we all dream of meeting in real life but so seldom do; we cannot help but fall for her.’
    Aah - sweet!
    ‘The prose is rich and sweet as marzipan, but never cloying, never too much. Instead, we are happy to gorge ourselves on these delicious words, to get drunk on sugar, to be giddy like E-numbered-up children.’
    Hmm, that’s a bit OTT.
    ‘Sex scenes are notoriously difficult to get right, but McGowan seduces the reader in the same way the handsome Luke seduces the lovely Tara; a verdant eroticism moistens these pages, as sexy as hell, as blissful as heaven.’
    Yeah, baby! Love it.
    Anyway, I slid the review back into the envelope and put it, plus ribbon (Biggles will enjoy playing with it) back into my bag, and exited the toilet, glad that there wasn’t a queue of cross people in wheelchairs waiting outside.
    When I got into the classroom, I expected to see Alex, waiting cockily for my reaction, but the room was empty except for Poor Brian. It was funny, because when he clocked my boots and the tights, his eyes opened so wide you’d think I was naked.
    ‘H-h-h-hello,’ he said, gulping like a cartoon character who’s just swallowed a pikestaff.
    We chatted for a bit – I asked him a bit about his fantasy book, but I have to admit that it sounded as if he was talking in a foreign language, with all the place names and weird aliens and so on. I told him that I’d loved The Blind Assassin , and that had a sci-fi story within it, but he hadn’t even heard of Margaret Atwood!
    Then he glanced towards the door, and for a moment I thought he was going to lunge at me; he had this rather worryingly expectant look in his eyes. Or else do a runner. But to my astonishment, he produced a copy of TLA ! That’s doubled my annual sales figures then. I wonder if they’ve all gone out and bought it? I hope so. But I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do with it – he sort of waved it at me.
    ‘Would you like me to sign it?’ I asked, and he blushed gratefully, nodding. I duly inscribed it, and the poor chap looked as if he was about to die with gratitude – but it was a lot more straightforward than Alex’s big gesture.
    The