Enough, already, of Mr. Barrington's sex life, which Mr. Woods has taken to a pornographic level in this book. Barrington beds everyone, and we must endure graphic detail of her being "wet", breasts, nipples, crotch, his slinging one of his numerous conquests over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs.
Now in "Stealth" lesbainism is introduced and would have become a "three way" but Stone was called away unexpectedly.
And, the great show of wealth, with homes and staff in New York, Los Angeles, Connecticut, Maine, England, Paris, and if I recall, Key West. Transport by armored Mercedes or Bentley, or Porsche Cayenne, or Porsche 911, horse, and least we forget, a Gulfstream 500, which, of
course, he can pilot.
Does someone want to ride one of his fine horses at his English estate? Just press the button marked "Stable" on the phone. Riding apparel furnished if you didn't bring your own.
Dinner for ten tonight will be in the estate's small dining room.
And then in his next book, Mr. Barrington is all but broke, and Joan is concerned about all the bills that must be paid.
Mr. Woods, it appears, is living his life vicariously through Stone Barrington, and I wish he'd tone it down.
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