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Friends, let’s keep it real. We’ve all fallen in love with a fictional character in a romance novel, and most of us can quickly call to mind our favorites. You’re doing it right now aren’t you? Lately, my book boyfriends share a common denominator: they’re all written by the fabulous Kennedy Ryan. Grip, the titular hero of the Grip duology (Grip and its prequel, Flow), is my latest true love, whom I met after turning to Ms. Ryan whilst in the middle of a prolonged book slump. I spotted the prequel novella Flow lurking in my TBR, and since I loved the Hoops trilogy, I decided to read it. This tiny gem of a novella introduced readers to Marlon James, aka Grip, a hip-hop artist on the cusp of a major music career. Let me tell you all about why I love him.
Before you begin Grip, you need to read Flow, a prequel novella, available for free from Ms. Ryan’s website. In that story, we’re introduced to Grip, a talented aspiring rapper based in LA. Grip is tasked with picking up Bristol Gray, the estranged twin sister of his best friend, from the airport. Bristol, a sophomore at Columbia University, is determined to renew her relationship with her brother and flies out to visit him during spring break. Her brother isn’t as eager to reconcile with her, and uses work as an excuse to send Grip in his place. Despite their attraction to each other and their quick and easy rapport, neither expects anything romantic to develop between them. Bristol isn’t looking for a hook-up, and she’s hurt that her brother sent someone else to meet her; Grip’s already in a relationship that he’s trying to end, and he knows better than to hook up with his friends sister. Unfortunately, fate – and a mostly too busy to bother brother – conspires against their best intentions. By the end of the week, they’ve shared a magical ferris wheel ride, and fallen for each other. But the story ends with them on the outs after a major plot twist.
Grip picks up eight years later. Bristol did reconcile with her brother and eventually relocated to LA to be close to him. She’s now his manager (he’s a successful solo artist), and they’ve launched their own label, Prodigy. Among their roster of artists is Grip – whose first album is just about to drop. He’s made a name for himself writing, producing, and collaborating with other successful hip-hop musicians, and all signs point to him becoming a major star. Bristol, who hardened her heart against him after discovering he had a girlfriend at the end of her LA visit eight years ago, struggles to resist her attraction to him. Grip knows Bristol is the one woman he would give anything to love, and he hasn’t given up on convincing her to give him another chance.
Grip is a slow-burn torture of a novel. Grip chases, Bristol deflects and avoids, and they’re both miserable without each other. So are we! Oh, but reader, it’s so well done. I’m not going to divulge all the details of their story, aside from telling you the pacing is perfect, the chemistry between our principal characters is insane, and the obstacles to their HEA feel absolutely authentic to the story. Bristol is afraid; Grip is determined. Their love affair is meant to be – from the moment you pick up this novel, you root hard for the pair of them to get their shit together and partner up for lots of steamy sexy times. Spoiler alert: they do, the sex is hot, hot, hot, and the wait is worth it.
So what’s the catch? Bristol is white. She comes from a background of privilege and opportunity. Grip is black, raised by a proud single mother in the dangerous LA neighborhood of Compton. Unlike many of his peers who joined gangs, Grip was pushed by his mother to expand his world through poetry and books and education, and she encouraged him to chase his dreams. He’s a talented rapper with a social conscience… who falls in love with a proud, lonely, white woman. Grip’s love for Bristol drives a wedge between him and his friends and family – who believe he should be with a black woman. So while Grip is most definitely a love story, it’s also a powerful, subtle and sometimes painful examination of race and racism and bias. Ms. Ryan grounds her story in Grip’s experiences as a black man – and in Bristol’s new awareness of his world and the challenges he faces, along with the not insignificant obstacles they face on their way to a happily ever after. They don’t doubt their love for each other – but everyone else does. Grip is powerful and complex and thought provoking, just like our lead character. Fortunately, the messaging doesn’t overwhelm the love story, and enhances it in every way.
Lately, many of my favorite novelists have taken a smugly sanctimonious tone in their novels; this self-righteous sermonizing is a major turn off and instead of inspiring me, I’ve stopped reading their books. These writers could learn a lot from Kennedy Ryan, who manages to tell wholly engrossing, sexy, romantic and smart stories that impart subtle, powerful messages that feel organic to the story she’s telling. The characters’ actions and motivations are wholly in keeping with the flow of the narrative and I’m never pulled out of that narrative in order for the author to drive home some secret agenda. Ms. Ryan doesn’t pander to her audience or shy away from uncomfortable subject matter. Yes, Bristol is a stereotypical beautiful heroine, and Grip is the hot and sexy guy she falls for. They’re wealthy and successful, and life is mostly good. But there’s so much more to their story and this series.
A diverse cast of secondary characters play pivotal roles in Grip and while they occasionally detract from the central romance, none feels superfluous. I particularly enjoyed meeting Grip’s mom and the friends he’s grown up with and helped along the way; that they love Grip and want what’s best for him is never in doubt, although I felt Bristol’s hurt when they rejected her. It’s painful. I wasn’t as fond of Bristol’s family – especially her mother – and I was happy she found someone who loved her so absolutely because her family… well, they sucked. I also hated Bristol’s ex-boyfriend and the villainous plot that drives the final quarter of the book – and I wish it wasn’t part of this story. It was cheesy and over-the-top… and dumb and unnecessary.
Kennedy Ryan writes sexy, smart and passionate romances. It’s clear she’s a music and poetry fan, and she uses both to great effect in telling this story. Everything about Grip is gripping – and if I hadn’t already read the Hoops trilogy, it would have sent me racing to get my hands on more of her books. I’m looking forward to whatever she has for us next.
Buy it at: Amazon
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Grade: A
Book Type: Contemporary Romance
Sensuality: Warm
Review Date: 01/06/19
Publication Date: 03/2017
Recent Comments …
Yep
This sounds delightful! I’m grabbing it, thanks
excellent book: interesting, funny dialogs, deep understanding of each character, interesting secondary characters, and also sexy.
I don’t think anyone expects you to post UK prices – it’s just a shame that such a great sale…
I’m sorry about that. We don’t have any way to post British prices as an American based site.
I have several of her books on my TBR and after reading this am moving them up the pile.
I love romance novels - all kinds.
I love music - some kinds.
I have strong opinions about both and I like to share them.
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Em, you were quite right, I loved this book!
I read it a while back, and did not remember it by title, but your review brought it back. It hit so many spots right, making me think, and worry, and feel those characters. Much more depth than Lily Morton, and courage in showing us fully drawn, difficult supporting characters, such as
_ Bristol’s mom, who is just a bit more open but not truly changed from her hurtful convictions by the end of the book
– Grip’s mom who was offputting and mended fences late, being strongly prejudiced at first
I am happy there is a sequel, at the time, “Grip” was the end. Looking forward to reading it.
This is one of those times I really wish we had a “like” button!
Your wish is my command…..
I am not convinced that the role of art should be primarily to better the reader/viewer/listener. A great deal of the art we love exists simply to entertain and to bring joy. I’m not against the idea that art should be prescriptive but I’m uninterested in art where the whole point of the art is to make she who apprehends it a more morally viable person.
This sounds great, Em. I have not read Kennedy Ryan yet but her books are definitely on my radar.
I too really dislike the sanctimonious tone in books, even when I agree with the ideas being put forth. Values are always part of books but it takes skill to convey them organically. For instance, the baby epilogues at the end of romances too often feels like a sledgehammer to alert readers that this is the world order to which we all aspire. Right now, identity politics are overt in stories, and while I typically endorse the message, how it is portrayed fictionally is so important to storytelling.
I agree. Everyone (almost) is jumping on the “soapbox” bandwagon – and while it’s not a bad thing to write books with a social conscience, I’m starting to feel as though I’m being hit over the head with the MESSAGE (which I’m quite capable of working out for myself, thanks!) and that romance writers (I can’t speak for other genres) are losing sight of the fact they’re supposed to be writing romances first and foremost. If readers care about characters, we’ll care about their situations and convictions; but all the endless tub-thumping will do is, as Em says, put us off reading their books.
My very favorite romance writer (I’ll omit her name here) is driving me a little batty right now with her preaching on whatever issue du jour she takes up, and it varies from book to book. Even though I’m in total agreement with her on the actual issue, her pompous tone and awkward use of characters to become voice boxes for messages she’s trying to get across feels insulting to me as a reader. It is so utterly off-putting. We’re living in such a politicized moment and I’m hoping that this is a transitional time for writers who are struggling to address important ideas but haven’t quite figured out how to do this with more artistry. Ugh, it’s frustrating.
I so hear you.
Perfectly said, Blackjack, I couldn’t agree more. And it’s a big problem in historical romance especially, where these “author inserts” are even more glaringly obvious. The last couple of HR by big-name authorsI read have fallen foul of it and given readers underdeveloped romances involving one-note characters defined by issues rather than given personalities.
Ditto – well said Blackjack. These messages, these efforts to right wrongs, to be more inclusive, more diverse – they’re needed and necessary. But readers don’t need to be shamed or treated like they aren’t smart enough or as enlightened as these writers to “get it” is…I don’t know what it is. offensive? Misguided? Insulting? All of the above?
Kennedy Ryan nails that tricky balancing act – especially in this series and HOOPS. GRIP tackles racism and bias and sexism and Bristol’s obliviousness until she falls in love with a black man…it’s just so well done. I learned a lot from this novel AND 100% loved the love story. Grip is excellent on many, many levels but never feels exploitive – another thought that frequently comes to mind reading some romance authors these days.
Lately, many of my favorite novelists have taken a smugly sanctimonious tone in their novels; this self-righteous sermonizing is a major turn off and instead of inspiring me, I’ve stopped reading their books.
Can I give an Amen to this? I have put down book after book lately because the story is subsumed by either characters who are, first and foremost, SJWs in a way that feels forced of because the plot is driven by VALUES rather than plot and character. It’s tiresome.
And to clarify – Grip is the first book, and Still is the excellent follow up. Flow is a prequel novella. All of them are terrific.
Whelp, I’ve gotta sink my teeth into this one eventually!