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Review

With A Sticky End, you CAN judge a book by its cover. Especially as it's by James Lear. His books are always decorated with muscular young men, sans clothes, in various inviting positions. Inside, they are just as sexy but also fun, intelligent, well-written, easy to read. A cut above most erotic writing. The sex -- abundant enough to satisfy the hungriest palette -- is hot, and cleverly woven into complex stories of intrigue.

This one is his third book featuring young, horny American Mitch Mitchell who lives in England and lustily livens up the land of Shakespeare. Mitch is no slouch in the intellect department: he studies medicine. His erstwhile college boyfriend, Boy Morgan, is beautiful, not-too-bright, and married, but most eager to please. Now, however, Boy desperately needs the sleuthing skills of his lascivious lover because his most recent paramour has died under suspicious circumstances, and Boy is the prime suspect.

Sherlock Holmes had his violin to help him think. Hercule Poirot had his liqueurs. Mitch has sex -- with a handsome, well-built young policeman, a randy old British OBE, an incredibly seductive and dangerous young Guardsman, a trio of underworld hunks. All this activity stirs his brain, among other things, and brings new meaning to the title of the book.

Sticky End may not be Jude the Obscure but it is a good read, and Mitch's unbridled, hedonistic romps in the hay may stimulate more than your intellect.

 -- Miles Fusco

  Gay physician/amateur detective Edward Mitch Mitchell is in England to visit his longtime playtime buddy, Harry Boy Morgan. When he arrives at Morgan's home, he finds Boy upset and gradually gets him to tell the story of the previous night. Apparently, after Morgan's wife and kids went on holiday, he planned on entertaining his client, Frank Bartlett, with whom he had been carrying on an affair for some time. They brought a third man home for some playtime, the man left, and Morgan fell asleep waiting for Bartlett to finish up in the bathroom. Later that evening, realizing he had never come to bed, he checks on him and finds him dead in the bathroom, apparently having slashed his wrists with a razor. Shortly after Mitch hears the story retold, the police return to Bartlett's home to further investigate, and eventually bring in Morgan on suspicion of murder. Wanting to believe Morgan was not responsible in any way, Mitch must look beyond the obvious and try to find out what really happened that night, a search that takes him to places where rough trade looks for generous benefactors. This is correctly classified as an erotic mystery, although - in my opinion - the erotic content definitely overwhelms the plot. Truth be told, the mystery itself is well-written and could stand on its own, but obviously the author's target readers like the series as is, and he gives them what they want. What Lear (actually novelist Rupert Smith, using a pen name) does, he apparently does well, but it is not my cup of tea.

 -- Mike Whitt