I have mixed feelings about this book. It’s a powerful story that kept my attention, especially after about the half-way mark. At times it was so gripping that I was actually holding my breath. It really is a good debut novel.

The book is broken down into ten parts which I found to be a bit strange but I guess it did help to have the sections focus on different aspects of the story. It’s written in first-person with each chapter being told by one of several different characters.

The story starts out with good Samaritan, Michelangelo, coming to the aid of Brandon when he is being harassed on the beach. From there it goes into a lot of things – almost too many things in my opinion.

There is an awful lot of repetitive information about Michelangelo’s work (he’s a bit of a mathematical genius); I felt this caused the story to get a bit bogged down in areas. I really enjoyed the thriller/suspense aspect of the story which really heated up about 80% of the way through. The fact that it took until 80% is why I couldn’t give this book more than 4 stars.

The last 20% was so intense and then it just kind of ended. I know all books have to end eventually, and this was already a very long one, but to have it end so abruptly left me feeling cheated. I invested many hours reading Damaged Hearts and to have it end without really letting us know how the two main characters get on was very anticlimactic to me. I wish I could say more but to give specific details would reveal way too much about the story and I don’t do spoilers.

This is the second book that I’ve read recently that left me feeling cheated by the abrupt ending. It’s the author’s first book, and there are more planned for this series, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that the next book will give us a bit more of Brandon and Michelangelo.

I know this review may have sounded too much on the negative side so I want to end on a positive note. I’m not at all sorry that I read this book even though I was a bit dissatisfied with the ending. I would definitely read more from this new author

Reviews for Jan St. Marcus

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BRANDON
But a little ways down, the pizza joint is just closing down. They have those ridiculously big slices of pizza and most people who don’t weigh at least three hundred pounds can’t finish their slices. Fuck the hot dogs. Half of a giant slice of pizza will do me just fine. Besides, trying to remember to say “catsup” instead of “ketchup” would make my brain hurt. And if I’m being honest, I do see the frat boy douchebags laughing and being all loud and douchey, but I really want to see if they’ll leave some of their slices uneaten. So I hang back a little and pretend to be looking for something on the ground. After about a minute or so, they drop their slices on the counter and start walking away. Score! I walk towards where they left their pizzas with my head down, like I haven’t noticed what they left for me. They’re about twenty feet away when one of them turns back and clocks me checking out their pizza. The fat one grabs the other one’s arm and points to me. I look up and see them seeing me seeing their pizza. Did that make sense? Fuck it. So anyway, as soon as they notice me, I kind of figure that they are going to be douchebags about their pizza, but I hold out hope. The fat one doesn’t need any more pizza, that’s for sure, but my stomach is getting the better of me, so I speed up a little bit. They’re closer and they return to the counter, beating me there by three steps.

Then the fat one, who seems to be the leader of this fucked-up pack of douchebags, picks up what’s left of his slice and lifts it up in my direction, like he’s offering it to me. Really? Maybe they aren’t such douchebags after all. I lift my eyes and start to smile. I’m going to thank him. I’m actually going to say “Thank you.” I do manage to smile as I approach because I realize that I haven’t said two words to anyone all day. He looks me in the eye and when I start to reach out my hand, he hocks a big ol’ lugey and splats it right on the pizza. Then he holds it out like I still want it. Okay, I know it’s probably gross, but I do still want it. His aim was pretty good and the glob of spit and snot has landed pretty much in the middle of the slice. But I could tear the pizza around the gross part and still have a pretty good amount of food. So I reach for it and he must have seen my eyes studying the pizza because he hocks another one and it lands on one of the good sides. He starts laughing and then his friends start laughing and they’re staring at me and laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. Assholes.

I turn around, about to say, “Fuck my life” again when one of the other guys apologizes and offers me his piece. It’s not as big as the fat guy’s, but it still looks good to my hungry young ass. And I can’t believe I am so hungry that I start to walk back over and take it, but I do. You can probably guess that he does the same thing his leader does and hocks a lugey and spits on his piece, too. My stomach growls with as much anger as I am feeling and I turn around and start walking back towards the boardwalk. It’s going to be a long night.

Their laughing stops and I hear a deep voice talking to them. “Why would you do something like that? What kind of asshole do you have to be to fuck with someone who is obviously hungry?”

As I turn around, I see the fat guy step in front of the other guy, who is six inches taller, and the frat-boy leader guy speaks in this bullshit little sing-song voice: “What business is it of yours, asshole?”

The guy just stands there, hands by his sides, not seeming to be bothered by the fact that there are three of them. Then he laughs. He looks right at the fat-assed guy and laughs.