Rating: 3 stars
Lasse and his friends head to Oppdal ( a ski resort in Norway) for a vacation filled with fun, partying, and lots of skiing. After a day on the slopes, Lasse gets into a confrontation with a man named Armas who won’t take no for an answer. Coming to Lasse’ rescue is Markos, Armas’ brother and fellow vacationer. Markos and Lasse are instantly attracted to each other and spend the rest of the vacation together. But Markos is Finnish, and the vacation is coming to an end. The stress of a long-distance relationship is only one of the tests their love comes under as Markos and Lasse struggle to keep their winter love alive.
Upon finishing the story, I wondered why I found it so dissatisfying. On the surface, the story is plausible and well constructed, the characters of Lasse and Markos likable. Further reflection crystallized several problems I had with Winter Love.
The first is characterization or the lack thereof. All of the characters here are so bland as to be interchangeable, with the exception of the group slut, Oliver, and homophobe Armas, who sleeps with men. Otherwise, you can switch out Markos, Lasse, Dimitri, and Mathias with each other based on personality alone and no one would notice. It’s just one note character after another. When glimmers of depth or layering comes up, or when we think that a backstory is about to be discovered, it is either immediately forgotten or dropped.
These lapses in character and story development are so frustrating that the reader is tempted to skipped ahead to see if it (whatever it is) comes up again. And of course, it doesn’t. At one point, Oliver is described as being bitter, which would give meaning to his promiscous behavior but it is never mentioned again. Also during the epilogue, Lasse wonders if he should bring up his past as a alcoholic and drug addict to Markos’ parents and the reader starts going “what? what?” because this is the first mention of this side of Lasse’ character. Had we had a backstory on Lasse earlier, it would have made him a more relatable person, instead we have a bland personality masquerading as a main character.
Plot lines within the story are handled with the same nonchalance as character development. A major character in one of the main story lines threatens suicide because of a trauma that has driven a major section of the plot. He then disappears for the rest of the book, leaving the reader to wonder why this character was introduced at all if he could be so easily discarded. Also disturbing is the manner in which the potential for suicide is treated by the other characters. One singular moment of tears then nothing.
T. T. Kove is Norwegian so the thought did occur to me that some of the issues I had with the story might be due to translation or language difficulties. Also, I have not read any Norwegian fiction so perhaps story development or plot outlines diverge along cultural lines. I am not sure. I would like to give her the benefit of the doubt, rather than using Winter Love as a standard for her prowess as a writer.
Cover: Beautiful cover by Megan Derr. I loved the image but wish the author’s name could be more legible. A larger font in the same color as the title would have been better.








When I think of a man’s chest (and the good Lord knows I do), it’s those wonderful sexy nipples that grab my attention first. Large or small, tight or at ease, all colors, it doesn’t matter. I just love them. I like to look at them. I like to read about them. Except when they are described as tits. Right or wrong, to me the word tit has feminine connotations. Woman have beautiful tits, gorgeous breasts, outstanding tatas, basooms, gazongas, whatever. We have oodles of names for womens breasts. Men who gender identify as women and men transitioning to women have tits. But men? Straight or gay men? Well then, it’s nipples all the way or nips if you prefer. If you have a man nipping the nip in a story, I am allfor it. Go on, lick that nip! Have your way with it! Just please don’t call it a tit. I have read descriptions where they were called tight buds, and I am okay with that. Nubs? That’s good too. Rub that nub ! But tits? When you get the urge, just take a gander at the picture above. And just say no.






