Beck Wyatt has always hated her mother—enough to kill her. As luck would have it, someone beats her to murdering Mommy Dearest and now Beck gets to plan the tackiest funeral the world has ever seen for the worst woman she’s ever known.
But first, Beck has a few minor problems to deal with. First on the list? Avoid getting kidnapped. She also has to convince the police she didn’t kill her mother. And then there’s surviving a death curse ….
With the help of her three best friends, cheesecake, and a little magic, Beck figures she can handle anything, even the mysterious and irritating Damon Matroviani, whose sexy good-looks light her panties on fire.
All too soon, her life is turned inside out, and just when things are looking like they can’t get any worse ... everything hits the fan.
I received this book for free from Author Gifted in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
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I am going to shine a bit of a light into the hot mess that I am. When I finish a book on kindle, which really is my phone because who knows where my not 1, not 2, but 3 kindles are, I look at what I have to read and just pick one. I do have a TBR, and I do follow it for the most part, but if I am in the bath or somewhere not near my TBR, I will scan through the books and pick one. That is what how I ran across “Putting the Fun in Funeral” by Diana Pharaoh Francis.
The main character is a bit of a hot mess, a wealthy hot mess, but a hot mess the same. But it is definitely someone I could be friends with. Her mom dies, and the first thing her friends do is celebrate, and get smashed. I personally will be a wet pool of tears, but my mom was not like Beck Wyatt’s mother. Where my mom cares, her mom hates. Where my mom likes my friends, her mom hated hers. There is a lot more but that would spoil the fun ;). Actually it really would, because you need to read this book to really know why Beck is jumping for joy when her mother was declared dead and police show up at her door.
Beck is your typical, everyday estate business owner, who just happens to have a smidge of magic in her. Or at least she thinks she only has a smidge as she really doesn’t know anyone else that does magic, except dear, dead, mommy. It isn’t like she is going to dig her up and ask her about magic, especially when her friends all volunteered to pee on her grave.
This book isn’t your typical paranormal book. There are some serious issues that go beyond humans not liking magic users, which actually doesn’t really come up. It talks about pain, suffering, abuse, self-esteem issues, commitment issues, kidnapping, and even torture. In places, it is pretty deep while others have a high level of levity. Personally, the self-esteem issues starting to grind at me a bit. It almost felt sometimes it was there just to increase word count. I know that sounds jaded, but how many times does one need to read about how they aren’t good enough to be with a guy, or aren’t good enough to tell friends their secret, or aren’t good enough to be… anything.
It is more than a romance, it is also a mystery. There are twists and turns, and surprises that I wasn’t even ready for. Knowing how much I read, I am ready for just about anything. It is a bit long, at 469 pages. It could have probably been shorter, but it kept me entertained throughout. If the author felt it needed to be that long, then it is that long.
Overall I think it is a good book and one that is worth reading, if nothing other than to find out how Dear Dead Mommy died.. and trust me, it is a death for the ages.
About Diana Pharaoh Francis
I was raised on a cattle ranch in Northern California (outside a town called Lincoln which is now part of an enormous sprawl). I taught myself to ride a horse at the age of six, as no one had the time to teach me—they were all busy learning how to irrigate, how to cajole an angry bull into another field, how to pull a calf… Afraid of heights, and absolutely sure I was going to die, I managed to scramble up on the back of a very patient and lazy strawberry roan destrier, and plod off into the sunset.
Thereafter, I spent much of my early life on horseback, or so far buried into a book that the rest of the world ceased to exist (much to the annoyance of my family—it took several attempts to get my attention). We all had very specific jobs on the ranch and mine was horses and cattle—out rounding up at dawn. And since I rode bareback, my standing request was to wake me up 5 minutes before everyone else headed for the barn—time enough to dress and eat my Wheaties, and no sleep time wasted on saddling.
After high school, I attended college after college, racking up a BA and MA in creative writing and a Ph.D. in literature and theory. My very patient and supportive husband traipsed across the Midwest and back to Montana for me (though my husband insists that he’s been running and hiding and I just keep finding him), where I now teach at the University of Montana-Western. We also a son Q-ball, who in our humbly unbiased opinions, is the most wonderful son ever produced, and a daughter, Princess Caesar, who is the most wonderful daughter ever produced.
I have a fascination for the Victorians, weather, geology, horses, plants and mythology, I like spicy food, chocolate and cheesecake, and I have an odd sense of humor. (Or so I’ve been told. Often.) Incidentally, the Pharaoh is in fact my real name, and oddly enough, is of British origin.
Some of my current favorite sf/f writers are Ilona Andrews, Carol Berg, C.E. Murphy, Patty Briggs, Lynn Flewelling, Rachel Caine, David Coe, and Anne Bishop
