Man Card
Book Review - MAN CARD by SARINA BOWEN & TANYA EBY
Man Card was a delightfully hilarious read that had me in stitches. First let's start by saying that these two authors write seamlessly and I didn't know which author wrote which parts that it was almost as if one author wrote this book. Secondly the characters in this book were so likable and downright cute. The competitiveness that Ashley possessed was fierce and definitely brought out some laughs especially at the beginning of this story. I'll be honest how she didn't castrate Braht at certain times was beyond me. LOL Braht well he's was such a unique character, comfortable in his own skin he gives a whole new meaning to Man Card that's for sure. I absolutely loved him, he was completely different from the usual Alpha caveman heros you read in books. Not saying I don't love my cavemen but it was refreshing to have a hero that indulged in a good mani/pedi on a regular basis. Take notes men of the world, woman love a man who have great hands. It's not just the size that matters. But I digress as far as storyline and characters go Man Card is definitely a book that will have you chuckling out loud and thoroughly enjoying the story from beginning to end.
Ash: I still don't know how it happened. One minute I was arguing with my arrogant competitor--our usual trash-talk over who deserves the larger commission. But somehow I went from throwing down to kneeling down... It can never happen again. I don't even like Braht. He's too slick. He's a manipulating mansplaining party boy in preppy clothes. So why can't I get him out of my head? Braht: There are two things I know without question. One: Ash and I are destined for each other. Two: never trust a man with a unibrow. Ash is my missing my piece. She's the sweet cream to my gourmet espresso. And nothing gets me going faster than her contempt for me. They don't call her the Ashkicker for nothing. Eventually I'll win her over...if my past doesn't ruin everything first.
Excerpt
“Name your other favorite movies,” I challenge Braht.
“All of them?” He chugs his margarita.
“Hmm. Top ten? Top five?”
“That’s totally easy,” he says. Somehow I’ve gotten closer to him on the floor. When he sits back, I actually snuggle in beside him. He’s wearing a ridiculously soft shirt that feels good against my skin. And I watch with fascination as he ticks off the names of films on his fingers. “When Harry Met Sally. The Devil Wears Prada. Roman Holiday. Clueless. AndWorking Girl.”
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. “Those are all chick flicks. You should
just hand over your man card right now.”
“Not a chance.” Braht’s expression grows intense. “In the first place, I gave you a very thorough demonstration of my man card last week. I don’t remember hearing any complaints.”
I swallow hard, because this is certainly true.
“And secondly, you’re looking at this all backward.”
“I…am?” And why can’t I look away? He has the most beautiful, intelligent eyes.
“Yeah, you are,” he whispers. “It’s the guy who has a firm grip on his man card that can hold your purse. He’s not afraid to be seen with that Tory Burch you like to carry—nice color, by the way. He’ll free up your hands because he likes your hands, and he remembers all the terrific things you can use them for.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. Now my fingers itch to reach out for him. I have to make fists with both hands so I won’t do it.
“Furthermore, he’s not afraid to quote Working Girl. Because Joan Cusack is a genius. And who wouldn’t want to say Melanie Griffith’s best line out loud?”
I can’t help saying it with him, and together we sound like the world’s horniest Greek chorus: “I have a head for business and a body for sin.”
Sin sounds pretty good right now, actually. But Braht’s not done with his speech. “Any man who tells you that chick flicks are for pussies can’t be any good in bed. Because that man does not speak the language of women. He doesn’t know that a little luxury can erase a shitty day of worrying about your ex…”
Braht takes my hand in his and begins to massage it. He has a great technique, applying gentle pressure between each joint. I relax just a little bit more against him.
“…That man doesn’t speak the language because he’s afraid of sounding like a girl. But fuck that noise, honey bear. If a man doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe a satin teddy with peekaboo lace and mother-of-pearl snaps at the crotch, he can’t buy it for you and then strategically ask you to wear it. He can’t plan ahead to blow your mind sometime by lifting your skirt somewhere semi-public and dangerous. And he can’t get down on his knees and kiss that lace and then pop open those snaps while you bite your own hand to keep from screaming when you climax.” Braht takes a deep breath and lets it out in one hot gust. “Fuck.
What was the point of this speech?”
“Um…” My voice is hoarse, and my face is suddenly very hot. Let’s not even mention my nipples. “Man cards, I think.” But I’m not sure, because everything tingles.
“Right,” he says with a sigh. “Still got mine. Shall we watch Working Girl next?”
“Okay,” I breathe, sinking a little further into his comforting embrace.
Other Book in this series
Check out our full review of Man Hands here