Showing posts with label Paula Houseman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paula Houseman. Show all posts

Saturday, October 6, 2018

Book Reviews: Cupid F*cks Up, and My T(r)oyboy is a Twat by Paula Houseman



Cupid F*cks Up

by Paula Houseman



Amazon UK / US / B&N


Ruth Roth is a straight shooter. Pity Cupid’s not.

Smart-mouth Ruth is an inspirational humor columnist for a popular women’s magazine. Recently divorced, she has found the love of her life. Without any help, mind you, from the little fat love god. Ruth has decided she herself is her one and only.

And she’s in a comfy place. Why wouldn’t she be? No need to yell ‘Put the bloody toilet seat down!’ No need to hoover toe-nail clippings off the carpet.

But then a silver-tongued Prince Charming fronts up in his shiny Merc and tickles her discarded, little-girl fantasies. He tells her their love is written in the stars.

It must be a misprint.

A romance with this particular PC is not so PC! Still …

Ruth’s life plays out more like ancient myth than fairytale. And what hot-blooded woman can resist forbidden fruit?

There's a problem, though. Ruth does not have a hot-blooded mum. Ruth has a pain-in-the-arse mum whose squawking disapproval cranks the taboo up a notch.

All the more reason to take up with the stud! But it means taking on the harpy.

Tensions mount, and even Ruth’s man can’t protect her from the trash-talking voices in her head. It looks like he can’t muzzle his own either. When an earth-shattering revelation causes him to give her grief, it makes her feel like she’s dating her mother.

Taking the kind of advice she doles out to her readers is not so easy, and Ruth wonders if this love can survive. More to the point, is it worth the trouble?



My Rating: 



Favorite Quotes:


Finding out he was adopted was bittersweet for Ralph. Bitter, because he felt betrayed by his adored and adoring adoptive mother, who withheld such important information from him. But sweet, because it meant he wasn’t swimming in the same shallow, fetid gene pool as the other idiots in his family— his father, his younger whiney sister, Louise (Louwhiney), and his two brothers, george and simon (who, according to Ralph, had no brains, miniscule penises, and were too common to be worthy of majuscule letters at the beginning of their names).

Unlike Xena, Warrior Princess —who slept in an ice cave for twenty-five years— I’d developed some pampered princess tendencies. I was now more Worrier Princess.

But the award for unrivaled faux pas went to Sylvia… ‘My son the doctor did all he could,’ she told them. I didn’t think it was the right time to correct her. (Myron was a dentist. He had fallen short of Sylvia’s dream of him becoming a doctor, but she regularly cashed in on his title, Doctor Roth.) Chalky-skinned, she dabbed at her weepy eyes with a tissue. She regained her composure and continued. ‘Myron tried to revive his father with artificial insemination.’

‘You could have called me,’ she accused. ‘I might have been dead on the floor like your father was. I could have composted.’ … ‘I think you meant decomposed.’

Casper liked watching the occasional scary movie… Casper assured me he felt loved and wouldn’t become Freddy Krueger. With his powers of persuasion, I worried that he’d become a lawyer or a politician instead.


My Review:


While still cleverly amusing, this book was considerably more angsty with relationship and family issues and more introspective and emotive than the first in the series.  Ruth and Ralph were both laboring through significant life events, transitions, and revelations.  There were several emotional teeter-totters and periods in the story where Ruth was shrewish and cruel; I wanted to pull her hair.  Ruth’s procrastination and on and off attempts at soul-searching on her journey of empowerment was entertaining but not without hiccups.  Romance was all around for the group and I was all swoony over Ralph, although he could have also used a few kicks to dislodge his cranium from his gluts. This has to be the quirkiest cast of characters ever assembled and they continue to intrigue and expand with the oddest of eccentricities.  The introduction of the colorful and peculiar character of Hector yielded an entirely new level of rib-tickling levity.




Empress DJ




My T(r)oyboy is a Twat
by Paula Houseman


Amazon UK / US B&N


Love, romance, marriage, and a dark little secret. Shh … Small things let loose can grow out of hand.
Ruth Roth’s new husband can’t keep it in. If only he had all those years ago, things might be different now.
His big mouth sends every family member into hell. Except for Ruth’s late mother. She blows in from there. Seems the woman just won’t die. Or let up. Faaaark!

As if Mama’s ear-bashing isn’t enough, everyone else needs a scapegoat. Ruth is it. Somehow, this mess is her fault.

With everything falling apart, she feels overwhelmed. Until a hunky celebrity pants man—who clearly wants to get into hers—befriends her and makes her feel all warm and fuzzy. At the same time, an educated silicone seductress has designs on hubby.

Temptation abounds. But it’s overshadowed when a startling discovery throws Ruth and her man into uncharted waters, and life comes crashing down.

Ruth has survived plenty with the help of her friends. And as a writer, her wry wit, dirty muse, and a bent for ancient mythology have sustained her. This, though, might be her undoing.



My Rating: 


Favorite Quotes:


‘Buyer’s remorse, I’ll bet! I did tell you, you should’ve lived with him first. It’s one thing to tolerate his particular brand of crazy when you’re not sharing a living space, but Ruthie, you should’ve insisted on a try-before-you-buy policy.’

Men want a happy ending; women want happily ever after.

My Review:


I struggled valiantly with this installment to the series as the main characters were struggling and the storylines were 75% angst, yet thankfully, the remaining 25% sparkled with Ms. Houseman’s unique form of wit, wry snark, and clever humor.  Due to family issues, my newly beloved couple of Ruth and Ralph quickly dropped out of sync after their lovely wedding, and the fallout was heartbreaking and painful.  Worse yet was the immature and baleful behaviors they fell into and couldn’t seem to slide out of.  As I am no fan of angst, their suffering grew repetitive and tedious for me, although that is just my preference as I know lots of fellow readers who devour it like a lapsed dieter at a buffet.  Despite my discomforts, Ms. Houseman often found inventive means of sprinkling humorous bits in the midst of their despair.  R&R were able to pull it together and appeared stronger than ever when the story ended with yet another upending surprise.  Write quickly Ms. Houseman, you have me fully invested and hopelessly addicted to this oddly quirky and habit-forming group of eccentrics. 


New Aussie words for my expanding vocabulary list include “have Buckley’s” which Wiktionary defined as having no chance; and “Ocker” which Mr. Google indicated was the stereotype of the uncultured Austrian who tends to be crass, guzzle beer, and speak with a thick dialect. Is anyone else getting a sharp visual of Crocodile Dundee?  



Empress DJ


Author Bio 

Paula Houseman was once a graphic designer. But when the temptation to include ‘the finger’ as part of a logo for a forward-moving women’s company proved too much, she knew it was time to give away design. Instead, she took up writing.

She found she was a natural with the double entendres (God knows she’d been in enough trouble as a child for dirty wordplay).

As a published writer of earthy chick lit and romantic comedy, Paula gets to bend, twist, stretch and juice up universal experiences to shape reality the way she wants it, even if it is only in books. But at the same time, she can make it more real, so that her readers feel part of the sisterhood. Or brotherhood (realness has nothing to do with gender).

Through her books, Paula also wants to help the reader escape into life and love’s comic relief. And who doesn’t need to sometimes?

Her style is a tad Monty Pythonesque because she adores satire. It helps defuse all those gaffes and thoughts that no one is too proud of.

Paula lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband. No other creatures. The kids have flown the nest and the dogs are long gone.

Social Media Links –



Friday, October 5, 2018

Book Review: Odyssey In A Teacup (Ruth Roth #1) by Paula Houseman 


Odyssey In A Teacup
Ruth Roth #1
by Paula Houseman 


Amazon US / UK / B&N


A tut-tutting, big-breasted, modern-day gorgon; a humorless schoolmarm with an unfortunate name and freakishly long, yellow incisors (yeesh)—these are the kinds of people Ruth Roth regularly encounters. Add in daily dealings with an acerbic mother who squawks like a harpy, a father with a dodgy moral compass and a God complex, a bitchy mirror, and Ruth’s existence feels like a Greek tragicomedy.

The idiocy of daily life makes sense to Ruth when she develops a fascination with ancient mythology. She learns that the deviant gods and spectacular monsters of bygone myths are alive and well in the backwoods of our psyche; that there’s always one who escapes suppression and can have the whip hand in our lives. Ruth’s is one of the most unwelcome societal presences—the goddess of obscenity. And talk about ugly!

Ruth can relate to this immortal. Not in looks; Ruth is quite comely. But she feels unwelcome in her own family (she gatecrashed her mother’s womb only two months after her brother vacated it). Despite being labeled the ‘black sheep’, or maybe because of it, Ruth takes on her nemeses, bravely and brazenly (her dirty goddess doesn’t give a rat’s about social niceties). But our heroine is war-weary. And the yearning to fit in somewhere—anywhere—eventually undoes her. We must look on helplessly as Ruth loses her soul.

She wants it back, though!

Just as well the mad characters in her mind and experiences won’t quit. Just as well Ruth never loses her wry wit. And where her nearest and dearest attempt to keep her shrunken into a wholesome package of conformity, Ruth’s two closest girlfriends simply won’t allow it. And then there’s Ralph Brill.

Ruth’s hot-looking, eccentric cousin and best friend, Ralph is her staunchest ally. Also a misfit in his family, he has his share of problems including a st-t-t-tuttering brutish father, and an obsessive-compulsive personality disorder—Ralph needs to do everything twice, twice.

Ruth relies on his repeated encouragement and the support of her girlfriends as she embarks on an odyssey. A good homeopathic dose of ancient mythology helps her find her way back through the sludgy shame and irrational fears choking her spirit. Then just when all seems well, Ruth faces an apocalypse …

My Rating: 



Favorite Quotes:


Ralph staunchly and compassionately defended his brothers: ‘They’re only aggressive because they’ve got such über-small penises.’

I was learning about ancient Greece in history class. Greek mythology was a very large component of this because my teacher had a passion for it. His name was Zero Kosta ... poor bastard… this man must have truly felt like he was worth nothing from the get-go. Suddenly, my name didn’t seem so bad. I think Mr Kosta had first- hand knowledge of ancient times because he looked like he was raised from the crypt. He was cadaverous.

In our family, Joe had a special aptitude for farting. And he was renowned for it in the Jewish community. There were whispers: Psst, did you hear what Joe Roth did during the visiting dignitary’s speech? What chutzpah! Still, never heard anything like it before! and, That’s Ruth Roth. Her father’s the one who farts in public. This earned him the nickname ‘Joe Blow’ (clever, but also dumb because he was anything but your average Joe).

If the eyes are the window to the soul ... what if someone’s cross-eyed? Is that like looking through a bay window?

When I was seven, Joe backed up against my freshly ironed school shirt, which was hanging on the linen closet door. He deposited a fart in the shirt pocket. ‘For safekeeping,’ he’d said. The teachers didn’t think it was too funny that day when I told them I had a fart in my pocket.

My Review:


Paula Houseman is found treasure.  My face kept a near-constant smirk and my reading of this vibrant and cleverly amusing story was frequently and forcefully interrupted, as I was laughing so hard I could not see.  I adored it start to finish and had 5 pages of favorite quotes.  The book was packed with a full cast of peculiarly eccentric, neurotic, and quirky characters who had starring roles in Ruth’s memories of her most calamitous and psyche-scarring life events.  The storylines and writing were highly entertaining and I was hard pressed to put my Kindle down.  Her father’s legendary flatulence issues alone caused several bouts of giggle-snorting.  Ms. Houseman is my new favorite author and I will fangirl her hard.  I am thrilled to have two more of her masterworks on my Kindle, but I cannot imagine how she could possibly top the humorous storytelling of this one.  And I have doubled my newly established Aussie Vocab List with the new entries of furphies – which are erroneous stories; fossick – to rummage or search; stoush – a commotion or dust-up; and Strine - the English language as spoken by Australians as well as their accent.




Empress DJ


Author Bio 

Paula Houseman was once a graphic designer. But when the temptation to include ‘the finger’ as part of a logo for a forward-moving women’s company proved too much, she knew it was time to give away design. Instead, she took up writing.

She found she was a natural with the double entendres (God knows she’d been in enough trouble as a child for dirty wordplay).

As a published writer of earthy chick lit and romantic comedy, Paula gets to bend, twist, stretch and juice up universal experiences to shape reality the way she wants it, even if it is only in books. But at the same time, she can make it more real, so that her readers feel part of the sisterhood. Or brotherhood (realness has nothing to do with gender).

Through her books, Paula also wants to help the reader escape into life and love’s comic relief. And who doesn’t need to sometimes?

Her style is a tad Monty Pythonesque because she adores satire. It helps defuse all those gaffes and thoughts that no one is too proud of.

Paula lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband. No other creatures. The kids have flown the nest and the dogs are long gone.

Social Media Links –