Sorry people, I need a minute. To squeal and reel and make a cartwheel or two I wouldn’t normally be capable of performing. I just feel like euphorically shaking my butt to the awesomeness that is Color me Crazy with as much enthusiasm as I apply when I hear “Uptown Funk” on the radio. What do you want from me? It has groove! Although I am pretty sure Julian would prefer that my ass be shaken to a more rocking tune such as my beloved Led Zeppelin or Def Leppard and I would be happy to oblige…
Without actually saying anything, I think I have made it pretty clear where I stand with Carol Pavliska’s amazing contemporary romance.
No? Let me spell it out: I L.O.V.E. IT! Simple as that.
Before I get to the very high praise I have for the story, let me first gush about the title, Color me Crazy.
In Italian we would use the word azzeccatissimo, which you would roughly translate as “you’ve hit the nail on the head”, but it sounds way better in Italian.
Julian, the main character, is a synesthete – I think the simplest way of explaining Julian’s particular “condition” of synesthesia without going all Wikipedia on you is to say that he perceives the world in colors, meaning that, for example, when he hears stuff he sees it, too. An that happens in form of color. He feels in colors, he hears in colors, his world is colors – I don’t know if that makes sense…
Cool, you might say. Beautiful, even. The idea of everything being color might sound enticing, especially for artistic souls, but as things go, there’s always an downside to the upside, and in Julian’s case there are more than one. People think him crazy (hence, Color me Crazy, you know, because of him being a synesthete and people thinking him as mad as a hatter). Thus the fear of being perceived as crazy by everyone that crosses his path (in this case, the girl).
You think seeing colors everywhere is just peachy? Nope, because there is somewhat of a mental overload that makes Julian drift off into his particular corner of la-la-land when he can’t manage to “keep colors separated”.
Attention, please: that does not make him crazy!
People have diabetes, heart conditions, some have lactose-intolerance, others are allergic to peanuts, some are synesthetes. This is the way Mother Nature wanted it. Just because someone blows up like a blowfish after eating peanuts (or simply nuts) doesn’t mean those nuts are a modified version of Jack’s magic beans and the newly made blowfish definitely isn’t X-man material.
So, you see, if you hear or feel colors you aren’t crazy and Julian’s aforementioned episodes are nothing more than (very very uncomfortable) manifestations (not in the paranormal sense, but in the medical one) of his condition. The man might act weird, he might be an occasional asshole, he might have made mistakes (a huge Titanic-sized boatload of them), but he definitely is not crazy. At least, not more so than your average person nextdoor. To quote the Mad Hatter: “we are all mad in here”.
Gush Attack: the Revenge.
Did you see the cover? It’s a “Rock ‘n’ Spin” (yeah, I know it’s fictional, don’t judge me for getting all riled up over it, I just think it’s brilliant) cover with a very sexy Julian. I am pretty sure I am not the only one noticing the striking resemblance to the “Rolling Stone” magazine? Well, it made my heart beat a bit faster, because I love “Rolling Stone” as much as I love my “National Geographic”! Again, azzeccatissimo: brilliant choice, in my opinion.
With these cover and title you cannot say that you’ve been misled. You don’t even have to read the description to know what you’re getting yourself into. Just grab it and walk away with it – with paying first, obviously: don’t steal it! You don’t want to go all “Orange is the New Black” on me.
Color me Crazy is a spectacularly good read which delighted me immensely!
I really wish I was an octopus so I could thrust eight thumbs to the sky. Yeah, I know octopuses don’t have thumbs! Just go with the figurative meaning. Although… octopuses with thumbs *shivers* what an unsettling thought that weirdly enough brings Cthulhu to mind… or Davie Jones of “Pirates of the Caribbean” (those two supposedly had thumbs, so you see I am not as bonkers as you might think).
There are tons of CRs out there with a rock-star or two as main characters, but Color me Crazy – maybe because of Julian who melted my heart, then broke it, then put it back together, then melted it again along with my panties (hey, Cleo, I too have a thing for guys with guitars), maybe because of how goofy and down to earth, yet so strong and determined Cleo was, maybe because of that amazing epilogue (huge soft spot for epilogues – you can either make everything up to me or drag your book in the dirt with the epilogue) – has found a particular spot on my Rock Star CR shelf and I can say with certainty that I will read it again and again, as I already did. It’s on my 2015-Favourites shelf.
Yes, people, yes! I already did a re-read, because I couldn’t hold myself back. I am pretty sure you don’t hold back either when a box of Ferrero Rocher falls into your lap! Yeah, I am comparing Color me Crazy to a box of Ferrero Rocher (I first wrote “boy of Ferrero Rocher” – not bad either) which means this story is just that sweet and heartbreaking (chocolate is sweet, too, and your heart breaks after you have eaten them all up because a) you wish you had more, and b) you wish you hadn’t eaten that many of them because now your ass is going to inflate big time!). But hey! – totally worth it, if you ask me.
So, yeah, Color me Crazy did a chocolate number on me, and I don’t think more words are necessary to convince you to pick Carol Pavliska’s book up.
Want a taste of it?
You can read the first chapter for free here!
Color me Crazy Synopsis:
Never fall for a rockstar…
Julian Wheaton views the world through a kaleidoscope of synesthesia, seeing the colors of every sound he hears. His life as an iconic rock guitarist was a stressful psychedelic trip that nearly destroyed him. Now he’s abandoned the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle for the peaceful sanctity of his recording studio, but when fiery Cleo Compton comes to work for him, she brings chaos with her.
Cleo Compton has had her flings with rockstars—and it’s left her wary and bruised. Julian may have those sexy bedroom eyes and drool-worthy tattoos, but Cleo is determined to keep things strictly professional—until Julian turns out to be every dream she’s ever chased. When he risks it all to hit the road with a band again, Cleo fears he’ll return as the one thing she can no longer abide—a rockstar.
Purchase Color me Crazy:
Color me Crazy Excerpt:
Her back was pressed up against the wall; there wasn’t even an inch to spare. Julian bent and kissed her neck. People yelled at each other outside the bus, and voices hummed inside, as well. “We don’t have any privacy.”
Julian kissed the sweet spot right behind her ear. “That’s true,” he whispered. “Anybody could walk in.” The bus shook as things were loaded into the storage wells.
“Excuse me,” someone said, just outside the door. “Hey, has anybody seen Lazros?”
Julian put his hand over Cleo’s mouth. “Shh…”
He unbuckled his belt, and she heard his zipper go down.
“I’m in my bunk,” he said to the door. “What do you want?”
Oh, God. He was actually going to carry on a conversation with someone just a few steps away while he…what would he do next?
His knee went between her legs, forcing them apart. Oh.
“Wayne wants to know if you’ll be keeping your Les Paul with you or if you want him to take care of it.” The voice was so close. Right outside the door!
“I’ll keep it,” Julian answered. Then he slipped his fingers between her thighs, inside her panties, and she closed her eyes and tried not to whimper. Julian’s voice was right at her ear. “Oh, Cleo,” he whispered. “Somebody is a naughty girl.” She totally was.
He pulled his hand away and stepped back. Cleo thought she’d fall, but somehow her legs held her up.
“Onto the bunk, baby,” Julian said softly. “Spread your legs.”
She looked over his shoulder at the small door. “What if someone tries to come in?” Her pulse sped up.
Julian grinned. “They’ll hit my ass with the door.” He gently pulled on her hand until she sat on the bunk. His fly was already open, and he was very ready to go. He pressed her shoulder until she leaned back. Keeping a nervous eye on the tiny, uninsulated door that led to the narrow corridor, Cleo pressed her knees tightly together. But only because she wanted to hear him beg. Or demand. Or anything, really.
“Uh-uh, little girl,” he said. “Spread those legs. And give me the knickers—they’re going on tour.”
Meet Carol Pavliska:
Carol Pavliska began her writing career as a family humor columnist and blogger, a pursuit she abandoned when her children became old enough to realize they were being exploited. To save them from further embarrassment, she turned to writing fiction.
Her debut novel is a steamy contemporary romance, so unfortunately, the kids are still embarrassed.
When she’s not creating unrealistic expectations as a romance writer (ripped abs, dramatic temperaments, and eyes like bottomless pools of Hey Girl), she functions quite nicely in her real world, which consists of a delightfully stable husband and five children.
Carol and her husband, both die hard Red Hot Chili Peppers fans, raise their vegan brood of mortified offspring on a cattle ranch in South Texas. No lie.
Carol Pavliska’s Web Tracks:
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