Product Description

As one of New York's top sex therapists, Dr. Morgan Snow sees everything from the abused to the depraved. From high-profile clients with twisted obsessions to courageous survivors, the Butterfield Institute is the sanctuary to heal battered souls.

Morgan Snow's newest patient is a powerful, influential man -- secretly addicted to watching Internet Web cam pornography. He's not alone in his desires. She's also working with a group of high school teenagers equally and dangerously obsessed with these real-time fantasies.

Fantasies that are all too accessible.

Then the woman start dying online, right in front of their eyes.

Now it's all about murder.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #421644 in Books
• Published on: 2006-07-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 410 pages

From Publishers Weekly
In the latest series entry from Rose (The Delilah Complex) to feature psychiatrist Dr. Morgan Snow, a string of murders is plaguing Manhattan, and sexy sex therapist Snow's new patient—a powerful judge with a reputation for being fair and an addiction to Internet pornography—is at the top of the suspect list. While Morgan works with patients addicted to real-time Web cam fantasy girls, someone is killing off the online girls and broadcasting their slow, grisly murders on their own Internet feeds. On the case is Det. Noah Jordain, who maintains a shaky romance with Snow. Soon the investigation is giving their already strained relationship a good rattle, pitting Morgan's professional duty against Noah's. Though creepy letters from the killer to "Dearest" break up the first-person narrative with stabs of dread, this psychological thriller is less thrilling but more thoughtful than the typical genre exercise. As in Rose's first two series entries, Morgan charms as a sex shrink who's seen it all, and the grisly details and bold sexual content blend nicely with themes of family, love and friendship to form a solid whole. (July)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Review
"Cleo is an engaging guide to the world of dysfunction Rose painstakingly constructs." -- Publishers Weekly on The Halo Effect

"M.J. Rose is a bold, unflinching writer and her resolute honesty puts her in a class by herself." -- Laura Lippman, bestselling author of To the Power of Three

"Rose writes erotic better than just about anyone . . . and does thrillers just as well as the big boys." -- BookBitch.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Venus -- Mythol. The ancient Roman goddess of beauty and love, especially sensual love.

Fix -- slang (orig. U.S.). A dose of a narcotic drug. Also short for fixation -- Psychol. In Freudian theory, the arresting of the development of a libidinal component at a pregenital stage, so that psychosexual emotions are "fixed" at that point. Also, loosely, an obsession, an idée fixe.

Mine Enemy is growing old --

I have at last Revenge The Palate of the Hate departs If any would avenge --

Let him be quick -- the Viand flits It is a faded Meat

Anger as soon as fed is dead 'Tis starving makes it fat -- Emily Dickinson Dearest,

After all these months,I'm willing to concede.Nothing will make me miss you less. Nothing will ease the razor-sharp pain that wakes me up every morning and keeps me from falling asleep at night.Not while those women roam -- no, not quite women, but witch women who go haunting, casting spells and capturing souls without anyone realizing just how dangerous they are or noticing the evil running in their veins.Evil that glows secret bright in the night and feeds the junkies who drool, eyes glued to their bare breasts and wet lips, ears attuned to low moans and dirty chatter while they stroke, massage, and manipulate themselves to orgasm and then languish in some fugue state until they crash back, back, back to earth.

There are twenty-three days left until your birthday, and to show you how much I love you,I promise,by then all five of these women will have been punished.

What I'm going to do won't bring back my appetite or my curiosity or my energy. It won't do a damn thing for me.That doesn't matter. Because this I do for you.

Thursday

Twenty-two days remaining Damn, it was freezing. He'd opened the window to chase away the smell of beer and grass and sex, but then he'd fallen asleep, and now it was so cold he didn't even want to stick his head out from under the covers to see if she was still there. But Timothy wanted to come again more than he wanted anything else, so he did it, he pushed the blanket down just enough to peek out.

In his darkened bedroom she was the only thing that he could see. Still there. Still naked. Her lovely breasts with their pink-tipped nipples pointing up.

His erection stirred.

Timothy was awake now, the dreams replaced with a fresh fantasy of what the next minutes would bring. She was golden. That was the best way to describe her: the tawny color of her skin, the long blond curls, and the feeling inside of him that burned like a sun when he was in her glow. And all he had to do was lie back and let her magic work on him.

None of the girls at school were this experienced. Or this gorgeous.

Or this willing.

Penny was sitting in the big red armchair where he'd left her -- her legs spread, playing with a dildo, smiling at him. But it was one weird smile. He leaned forward. Nope, she didn't look right. She was shaking a little and her mouth was sort of contorted into a sick clown's grimace. Then her head fell forward, her back heaved, and she vomited.

Timothy had fooled around with a lot of different crap, but this was weird. What kind of pervert would think this was hot?

Usually Penny was coy and sweet and sexy. Sure, she was a little kinky sometimes with the crazy-shaped dildos she used, but she wasn't moving any of those magic wands in and out of her now.

"Penny," he whispered. "What are you doing?"

Her answer was an agonized groan. Low and feeble. Like the sound a wounded animal might make. Nothing like the exciting sounds she'd made when she was riding the lubricated pink plastic dildo and coming right along with him.

Maybe she wasn't acting. Maybe she really was sick. Food poisoning made you sick like that. He'd had food poisoning once. She looked sick, didn't she? Her skin was slicked with sweat, her hair was flattened to the sides of her face, and her eyes looked glassy and feverish.

She looked like she needed help. Now. Fast. But what could he do?

Grabbing the blanket off the bed, he wrapped it around his naked waist and started for his bedroom door. Then he stopped -- there was no one home. His parents were out. Jeez, what was he thinking? Thank God they were out because Penny, sick or not, was way off limits.

He looked back at her to make sure. Yes, she was still moving in that slow-motion, sick way, her moan now a low constant sound that made him want to put his hands up to his ears and block it out.

He grabbed the phone.

He'd call for help. But who? The police? An ambulance? Amanda? Would she know what to do? No, she might tell her mother. He couldn't risk that. Besides, what if he was wrong? What if this was a game? What if Penny was acting out some perversion by request? He knew she did that sometimes.

He glanced back at her, at her small hands gripping the arms of the chair, at her feet, so fragile and inconsequential, at the worn carpet he'd never noticed before. Everything looked sort of pathetic now -- the meager furniture, the really small television -- except for the view out the window. He'd never noticed any of this before. He'd always been too busy, under her spell. But not now. Not anymore.

Pick your head up, Penny. Look at me. Tell me what's going on. What should I do?

She threw up again.

He dialed 911. "State your emergency, please."

At the same time he heard the voice, the screen went black. He ran to the monitor and stared at it, seeing only his own ghostly image staring back.

Penny was gone.

What the hell?

He hit the back button to see if the problem was his computer or hers. The site he'd been to before hers popped up. He hit the forward key.

Her site was gone. "Hello?" shouted the voice on the other end of the phone. "Hello?"

A dozen thoughts hit him all at once. They were going to ask him who he was, and he was going to have to tell them, and then his parents would find out he'd broken the rules again, and God only knew what they would do to him this time. He had been going to all those stupid therapy sessions at school and his parents were finally easing up on him, but if they found out about this…what would happen then? Besides, maybe he was wrong. Maybe Penny had only been acting out some stupid game.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Timothy finally answered.

"Can you tell me what the emergency is?"

"It's not…I don't think. What if it's not an emergency?"

"We have a car on the way to your house. Are you hurt?"

"No. It was a mistake, it's not an emergency."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. It's not me. I thought someone…I thought someone was breaking in…but it wasn't… I was asleep."

"The police are on their way. They should be there in less than thirty seconds." The operator's voice eased and softened.

Timothy heard the intercom buzz in the kitchen, hung up, ran out of his room and down the hall, the panic rising like bile in his stomach.

He pressed the button. "Yes?"

"Timothy, the police are here," the doorman announced. "They said it was an emergency. I'm sending them up."

"No," he shouted at the doorman. "No. Let me talk to them." There was a pause. Then: "Timothy Marcus? This is Officer Keally. Is there something wrong up there?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You called 911."

"Yeah, but by mistake. I was asleep, dreaming, thought I saw…heard something, but it wasn't real."

"Are you sure you don't want us to come up and check things out?"

Timothy actually hesitated. Should he tell them and face the consequences? Deal with whatever his parents would do to him? He had seen something weird on the computer, hadn't he? She was sick, wasn't she?

Or had some weird fucker convinced Penny to act out his perverted scenario?

"I'm sure," he said into the intercom.

Customer Reviews

Webcam venuses
"The Venus Fix" is a schizophrenic novel, a multi-strand thriller with erotic overtones.

At its center is sex counselor Dr. Morgan Snow. While her boyfriend, New York police detective Noah Jordain, is investigating the murder of an online performer, who died in agony during one of her shows, she's treating patients who may have a connection to the case. One is a mystery man who needs therapy for his addiction to Internet webcam shows, while the other is a group of teens from the same school.

Rose has said in interviews that she wanted the novel to reflect accurately the trauma caused by Internet sex addiction, and she has done so effectively, showing the lure of graphic images on the part of the men, and trauma such behavior inflicts on the women in their lives, and the girls who feel pressured to imitate the looks and behavior of porn stars.

But depicting behavior is not the same thing as telling a story. While the patients struggle with their obsessions and the murders of the sex performers follow the thriller template, the far more compelling story lies with Snow's personal life. Morgan and Noah, each with enough emotional baggage to fill a 747, feel their way toward a hopeful greater intimacy, which is threatened when Morgan's ex-husband returns, wanting to make things right with her. Morgan also has a problem with her daughter, who at 13 is acting in a Broadway play and has the potential of making a career out of acting. To Morgan, who saw her actress-mother self-destruct, this is unacceptable.

It is Morgan Snow's struggles to find her place in a relationship, to retain a connection with her daughter and her need to protect herself from her patients' traumas that give "The Venus Fix" its kick.

One of the year's best thrillers
An erotic thriller isn't the kind of book you'd expect to find on most guys' reading lists. But most novels of this type aren't as good, and as universal, as those written by M.J. Rose. Any reader, man or woman, who enjoys a sexy, suspenseful read would be advised to pick up one of her books.

Rose's latest, "The Venus Fix," features the return of sex therapist Morgan Snow, a single mom and top-notch professional in her field. In a wonderfully-crafted plot, Snow is counseling a group of teenagers who are addicted to live Internet sex shows. When someone starts killing off the performers, while the boys watch, Snow is drawn into the investigation.

The plot of "The Venus Fix" is fresh and intriguing, but it is the characters that push this thriller to such a high level. The relationships that fill it -- mother-daughter, doctor-patient, girlfriend-boyfriend -- are so well-developed and so real that the story takes on considerable power and poignancy.

Not her best
Someone is killing webcam girls, someone very angry who wants to hurt someone close. Who could be doing it? That answer eludes Detective Noah Jordain, of the NYPD Special Victims Unit, but he is prepared to find out. On the other hand, Morgan Snow, sex psychologist at the Butterfield Institute, has several possible suspects. One of her clients is a very successful and well-known man -- so well-known that he attends the clinic under a pseudonym, for fear of being discovered. He is addicted to webcam pornography and feels a conflicted combination of guilt and thrill for hiding it from his wife. Morgan is also working with a group of teenagers with the same problem, webcam addiction. Are any of these people involved, or is someone close to them committing those crimes? If so, why? There are some twists throughout the novel.

M.J. Rose is one of my favorite suspense novelists. Her erotic-slash-psychological thrillers are delectable and enthralling. Her descriptions are sensual and literary. Her first novel, Lip Service, is a favorite of mine. I have read all of her books with the exception of The Reincarnationist (still on my TBR pile). The Dr. Morgan Snow novels are wonderful. Then why am I giving The Venus Fix two stars, you ask? I thought it was boring. I also didn't like the format in which it was written. There is too much head-hopping going on. Almost every chapter features a new point of view. Morgan, a fascinating and complex heroine, gets lost in the middle of all the isolated scenes/chapters. It made her first-person narrative seem absurd in the middle of so much third-person hopping. I give it two stars because I enjoyed her scenes with Noah and her difficulty accepting her teen daughter's passion for acting and how her daughter's ambition reminds her of her mother, a former child actor who self-destructed once her career was over. If not for that, I would have given it one star. Perhaps M.J. Rose is no longer into this series, which may explain why she hasn't written one in over a year. The first novel in the series, The Halo Effect, is the best one (so far). As said earlier, I admire this author, but that doesn't stop me from admitting that The Venus Fix is kind of a stinker.