Tag Archives: book reviews

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover by Sarah MacLean

Girl meets boy. Girl asks boy to ruin her. Boy refuses. Boy gives in.

I’ve read about 140 romance novels in the past year, and attempted another two or three dozen. I feel depressingly confident in saying that I’ve read all the good ones. At least, all the good ones that I can get my hands on, as I am unwilling to pay $7.99 each to purchase an author’s out of print backlog as it spills into Amazon’s Kindle stock.  This means I do a lot of three things:

  1. Wait for the good authors to release new books.
  2. Take a chance on new authors on Amazon.
  3. Try random library books with titles like:                                                                                 If You Give a Girl a Viscount                                                                                                Sex and the Single Earl                                                                                                  Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

Between the awful titles and covers, the publishers really do manage to convey what they think of their extremely profitable readership. This book has an awful title, too. I don’t blame the author. I’m sure she would have preferred something less excruciating.

One Good Earl Deserves a Lover is the second book in Sarah MacLean’s Regency Rule of Scoundrels series. Each book features one of four displaced lords who run a notorious, and therefore extremely fashionable and popular, gaming club called The Fallen Angel. The first book, A Rogue By Any Other Name, introduced the gentlemen, and told Bourne and Penelope’s story. That book was good, but the hero suffered from a prolonged case of Head Up Posterior. This book is much better, lovely in fact. It picks up exactly where the Epilogue of the last book left off. I love it when they do that!

Pippa Marbury is getting married in two weeks. She is a woman of insatiable intellectual curiosity and as such is extremely inquisitive about what to expect on her wedding night. Instead of doing the logical thing and throwing herself at her very nice, very boring fiance, she approaches a notorious rake to provide the “ruination” she seeks; however, Cross is not actually the roue he appears to be, so he naturally/correctly/wisely refuses Pippa’s request, but he doesn’t really want to. Hijinks ensue.

Cross (Jasper, Earl Something) is likeable, fiercely intelligent, and kind, a quietly tortured hero. He’s also a redhead which is extraordinarily unusual for heroes in the genre; what’s more, he’s tall and he gangles (H/T Douglas Adams). The men in these books are never short, but at 6’6″ Cross, dwarves Pippa. I’ve complained about the practicalities of height differences before. These are details that occur to me while reading romance novels and break my otherwise extraordinarily willing suspension of disbelief. What does absurdly tall Cross do when he wants to kiss Pippa? He picks her up, they both sit down, he kneels in front of her. Not in swooping romantic gestures, but simply as a practicality. It’s small details like this that make Sarah MacLean the writer she is and put her on my autobuy list. I’m so grateful for the effort to keep things logical.

Pippa is bespectacled and bookish. She’s odd. An intellectual at a time when such efforts would have been barred to her, she’s also rich and has disinterested parents, and thus free to follow her scientific interests. I don’t normally latch on to the heroines as much as the heroes, but I loved Pippa and related to her strongly.  Her insistent uniqueness was really endearing. Pippa knows she’s unusual, she always has been, and while she doesn’t necessarily like it, she embraces it as who she is. In my family, speaking in a clever and complicated way is seen as a game. As a result, I tend to sound like a Gilmore Girl by way of Katharine Hepburn. It’s not a good thing. It’s a thing I was mocked for as a child and a thing that I still constantly try to temper in my everyday life: Don’t be too clever, don’t use words people might not know, don’t be too enthusiastic, don’t talk too quickly, don’t use references. I loved Pippa for being herself in a way I don’t often feel I’m allowed to be. Defiantly so. Defiantly curious, defiantly intellectual, defiantly demanding what she wants and needs, and being rewarded for it with a lovely man who genuinely understands, cares for, and delights in her.

And now I can go read Malin’s review of this book and see if we agree. We usually do.

Penelope by Anya Wylde

An open letter to Anya Wylde author of Penelope (A Madcap Regency Romance)

Dear Ms. Wylde:

Sincere congratulations on completing and publishing your second novel. It is indeed a great achievement and one which I certainly cannot claim; however, I have read very, very many historical romances, so if it is true that novels are never finished only abandoned, I have some notes for you. If you have moved on, they might help with your next effort.

1. The writing itself is perfectly serviceable. The plotting, characters, tone, and editing are problematic.

2. The bit with “Are you thinking about your grandmother?” was very clever.

3. The heroine, Penelope, arrives at Duke’s London residence with a PET GOAT. She may be a bumpkin with no filter, but this is patently ridiculous.  It is neither endearing, nor whimsical. It is malodorous and incontinent. Why not a puppy? It could grow up, calm down, and, this is the important part, be house-trained.

4. The reader is given two random and extremely brief scenes of Penelope’s dead mother in heaven looking down on her between rounds of tossing her halo for wolfhounds to fetch. Sure. Why? Give a dog to Penelope and kill the dead mother (and the damn goat).

5. Your hero, Charles, is an awful person and does not become any more tactful, likeable, or sympathetic as the story progresses. He finds Penelope gauche, embarrassing, and appalling. He tells her so regularly with spectacular insensitivity. He’s even rude to her in the Epilogue and refers to their children as “brats”.

6. Know your genre tropes: If the hero and heroine are opposites and set against each other, they must also have an intense sexual attraction underlying their interactions as they find common ground. Charles should find Penelope’s lack of pretension refreshing and charming, even if he doesn’t want to. Tell the reader what he is thinking. Penelope is flighty and blithers endlessly. He could help her feel comfortable and relax. She could help him remove the stick from his bottom.

7. Penelope and the duke’s sister act like 15 year olds. Why on earth would anyone be attracted to them, unless he/she too was a silly teenager? It makes the romantic relationship, such as it is, jarring and incomprehensible. Penelope may be sweet and well-intentioned, but she’s childlike.

8. Calling the story “madcap” does not excuse these elements:

  • The openly gay, openly transvestite modiste who teaches Penelope to be a “proper woman”, AND who is a peer AND a spy because of a late and inexplicable espionage subplot.
  • All the men have to wear a moustache to dinner to appease an elderly grandfather. This is silly, but it’s also a squandered opportunity. At some point, Penelope should either wear a moustache to dinner as a joke, or rip off the Duke’s in a fit of pique.
  • The lovelorn highwayman Penelope prattles into submission before the story even begins. Why did you not start with this episode?
  • The return of the lovelorn highwayman in some bizarre plotting which includes the Duke in costume declaring his love for Penelope despite the fact that he clearly can’t stand her.

9. I’m 99.96437% sure that no one in The Regency used the word diddlysquat.

Thank you for your time.

Yours truly,
Prolixity Julien

The Revenge of Lord Eberlin by Julia London

Almost completely joyless. This will be my only Julia London book.

I selected this novel randomly from the romance spinner at the library, read a few pages, shrugged, and decided to give it a go. The Revenge of Lord Eberlin feels like a romance novel from the early days,  i.e. the 1970s/1980s. For the uninitiated, that means that the hero is a gorgeous, but cynical, brooding bastard who treats the heroine abominably, and the heroine is nonetheless magnetically attracted to him. His sole redeeming trait for most of the book is that he is nice to children. His only sympathetic quality, I think that was the author’s intent, is that he has panic attacks and since it is 1808 he has no idea what is going on and they terrify him. Julia London is a decent writer, sentences like “her heart was beating like the wings of a thousand birds” not withstanding, but this book was not engaging and, frankly, I’ve seen the revenge plot (the clue is in the title) done better by Julie Anne Long and Courtney Milan.

When Lord Eberlin, once Tobin Scott, was 13, his carpenter father was hanged for stealing jewels from the Ashwood estate. Central to the case was the testimony of Lord and Lady Ashwood’s adopted eight year old daughter, Lily Boudine. She saw Mr. Scott senior riding away from the manor on the night of the theft. Scott’s family was destroyed by the scandal: his mother and brother died in penury, and Tobin helped place his sister in service before he went to work on merchant ships. Fifteen years later, having purchased a title and clawed his way to wealth as an arms dealer (how revolting), Lord Eberlin has come back to destroy the Ashwood family, its finances, the estate, and anything else that isn’t nailed down. He’s really very grumpy. He has a charming friend named Mackenzie who might actually make for a fun book, but his appearance was disappointingly brief.

Lily and Tobin played together as children; more accurately, Lady Ashwood and Mr. Scott senior asked Tobin to occupy Lily while “work” was being done at the manor. Now Lady Ashwood in her own right, Lily is a smart, patient, and preternaturally mature and understanding young woman. She also has a young ward who appears now and then to be winsome and prove hero isn’t a complete ass. Tobin wants revenge, but he is drawn to Lily. She wants to protect her land and dependents, but is drawn to the foxy  rude man who turns her crank even as he takes her livelihood.

The proposal was charming, but this book was no fun; more importantly it was essentially humourless.  The tone was so serious that I started to wonder if the problem was me. Was I in a bad mood? Was I misreading the tone? Was I projecting emotions onto the story? Mostly, it was disappointment. I need to find a new romance writer’s catalogue to march through and with every new book I’m hoping I’ve found her. London used the word “visceral” on page three, so I had high hopes, but it was not to be.

The (Shameful) Tally 2013 – Ongoing

Things That Occur to Me While Reading Historical Romance Novels – Ongoing

To Love a Thief by Darcy Burke

Meh, but more on that later.

There are a lot of large men in period romance novels: tall, dark, and handsome, with historically-inaccurate muscle definition. Excellent traits all.  I’m a woman of average height and I’ve never dated anyone tall, although it has a definite appeal. Feeling petite is one of those things I just know I would delight in. The heroine of To Love a Thief, Jocelyn, is a tiny little thing who just manages comes up to the middle of the hero’s chest, so about like this –

heights 2

which is totally fine, but I always wonder about the upright kissing. Romance authors like to say that the characters “fit perfectly”, or are “pressed along each others length”, but what are the practical considerations of this height differential? My former boss was about 6’4″, and when I hugged him goodbye, I stood on tiptoe and barely cleared his shoulder; moreover, the heroine is always putting her arms around the hero’s neck. Is that even possible from a standing start? He would have to bend over and therefore away from her to reach, right? I want to read a romance with a running joke that the hero is always making sure the heroine is on a step, or he sits down on the edge of a piece of furniture, or simply lifts her straight up (swoon) to deal with the issue. And don’t even get me started on the impossibility of certain positions with such a pronounced height difference.  He’d throw his back out. It’s contrary to the laws of physics, no matter how historically-inaccurate his muscles are. No one could vigorously squat or, conversely, stand on tiptoe for that long. This is what gnaws at me while I read these books. Well, this and “aren’t they freezing?”; “just how big is this bed?”; and “that’s not really feasible with the bathtub you just described”.

In To Love a Thief, Jocelyn Renwick is on the shelf, but still in circulation. Her only season was cut short by a series of unfortunate events, including a traumatic burglary and her father’s death. Two years later, she has returned to society as a lady’s paid companion. During her absence Daniel Carlyle, a former constable, inherited a title and has devoted himself to learning his new duties and to navigate the world he has joined, aided by his close friends Lord and Lady Aldridge. When first they meet, Daniel is captivated, but Jocelyn is distracted by Lady Aldridge’s necklace. It is identical, down to a surface scratch, to one that was stolen from her home.

Jocelyn sets out to retrieve/steal her family heirlooms from the Aldridges and Daniel catches her in the act. They work at odds, and then together, to solve the really quite obvious mystery of Lord Aldridge’s nefarious activities. There is some traipsing through London’s underworld, villainous mustache twirling, and a beleaguered household staff that keeps getting tied up. None of it is very exciting or fresh, and I admit to having perused certain portions rather quickly.

I don’t know if Darcy Burke is a new author, but the writing feels like she is. There were occasional flashes of potential, but overall it was pretty flat. The main problem was that the reader is told Daniel and Jocelyn have fallen in love rather than being shown. For obvious reasons, the ability to convey attraction and emotion is essential to success in this genre.

To Love a Thief was free for Kindle on Amazon; I downloaded it as one of several such items. It’s a clever marketing ploy, if it gets you to buy more of the writer’s work. It won’t, but I can’t blame Burke, or her publisher, for trying.

Julie Anne Long also has a historical romance called To Love a Thief and it is delightful.

This Wicked Gift by Courtney Milan

I’ve written about the two men and seven plots that occupy all romance novels, but I’ve given short shrift to the women, so this is what I’ve learned since my first romance novel review 136 books ago: She’s still either a Wallflower or a Victim of Circumstance. The Wallflower is a lovely, pert, overlooked woman who needs to get her light out from under that bushel. The Victim of Circumstance is someone who, usually due to exigencies beyond her control, has dim prospects and has to make her own luck. Both women are bright and self-sufficient, and, contrary to what I suspect many people think about romance novels (when they think about them at all), they are not being “rescued” by the hero. They either rescue him, or they find their way together.

When people are kind enough to ask me to recommend a romance writer to them, I always suggest Courtney Milan unreservedly. Correction: One reservedly, Trial by Desire, her second book. With the novella This Wicked Gift, I have read her entire output and thus have to writhe in anticipation of her next publication; fortunately, this one did not disappoint. It broke my heart and then put a smiley-face band aid around it.

A Christmas story, This Wicked Gift, is part of Milan’s first trio of published works, which also includes Proof by Seduction and Trial by Desire. William Q. White, a clerk scraping by after being perfunctorily disinherited, is in love with Lavinia Spencer. Astute, determined, and vivacious, she runs the local lending library to which he has a subscription, and she thrills to his presence as well. William takes advantage of an opportunity to be of service to Lavinia, and then takes advantage of her indebtedness to him, or so he thinks.

Milan never shies away from the grinding poverty of 19th century England and this book dwells not with the lords and ladies of so many romance novels, but with honest people trying to eke out a living in an often harsh and loveless world. To weave the fight against one’s own penury, place in the world, and the striving for some semblance of a comfortable life into a genre story based around romantic love is quite an accomplishment. It is indeed romantic and it feels realistic.

The last Milan novella I read, A Kiss for Midwinter, contained a heart-stoppingly romantic moment. This book contained a sentence that broke my heart into a thousand pieces, “You would need never feel cold again.” It wasn’t a romantic line, it was meant literally: You will have the financial wherewithal to purchase warm clothing and fuel to heat your home. Imagine a life where being warm seems like an unattainable luxury. Being cold is something I despise and resent. Whenever I read a book with characters living in poverty, being cold always occurs to me. I won’t even read the Highland Laird romance genre because I am always thinking, “God, it must be so damp. It would just crawl through your clothing and envelop you for nine months of the year. I don’t care how good a kisser he is, he’s not worth it.”

Links to my other reviews can be found on The (Shameful) Tally 2014 or my list of books by author.

Also from Courtney Milan

The Carhart Series
This Wicked Gift – please see above
Proof by Seduction
Trial by Desire – one of only two Milan books I don’t recommend

The Turner Brothers Series
Unveiled
Unclaimed
Unraveled – personal favourite
Unlocked

The Brothers Sinister Series
The Governess Affair – very good novella
The Duchess War – great
A Kiss for Midwinter – CLASSIC
The Heiress Effect – the secondary plot was lovely
The Countess Conspiracy – superlative
The Suffragette Scandal – CLASSIC, MASTERWORK
Talk Sweetly to Me (novella) – August 19, 2014 (bouncing with excitement)

Independent Novellas
The Lady Always Wins
What Happened at Midnight

The Mackenzie Series: The Seduction of Elliott McBride by Jennifer Ashley

I lovehate Jennifer Ashley. I went on about my feelings at length in an earlier review and yet I still read the next novella, A Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift, and novel in the Mackenzie series.

The Seduction of Elliott McBride may be the book that cures me of my love and brings me down solidly on the side of hate, or at the very least never, ever paying for one of Ashley’s books ever, ever again.  The novel opens with very proper Juliana St. John being left at the altar as her fiance has married his piano teacher. Quelle horreur! Taking a moment alone in a chapel, Juliana SITS ON her childhood friend  Elliott McBride. He has recently returned from India a shattered, but appealingly bronzed, man, and, since they have always loved each other from afar, they decide to marry right away, like, RIGHT AWAY, in the next 15 minutes, and so begins the story.

As with all Ashley men, Elliott McBride has a histrionically torturous back story. He wants Juliana to ground and heal him, so after impulsively marrying, they go straight to the manor he has bought in a remote area of Scotland. With the patience of a saint and the personality of a handkerchief, Juliana passively endures all manner of ridiculous subplots including Elliott’s blackouts and unpredictable violent rages (which are never directed her and that somehow makes them okay); accusations of murder; a stalker; a home in complete disrepair; the home’s violent and irascible existing resident; a culturally patronizing portrayal of Elliott’s Sikh servants; a mixed-race lovechild; Elliott’s random disappearances; his history of imprisonment and profound abuse up to, and including, brainwashing; and hostility from the locals, all while isolated from her family and any semblance of the life she has known. Juliana is fine with it. All of it. She only wants to help. She makes a lot of lists to help organize things. None of the lists seem to include the following:

  1. hide all knives
  2. hide all  guns
  3. install stout padlock on bedroom door
  4. have doctor secretly examine husband
  5. have husband committed
  6. make conjugal visit to asylum

A laundry list of plot ridiculousness is typical of Ashley, but she usually balances it with a love story sufficiently charming to counteract said ridiculousness. That is not the case here. The book is awful and NOT because of everything I’ve already mentioned, though it certainly helps. The fundamental problem is that it’s not a romance novel: Elliott and Juliana start out in love. They stay in love. Their love does not waver. They get busy from the get go. There is nothing actually keeping them apart. The story doesn’t build to anything in their relationship. That is not a romance novel. It’s Ashley attempting to hit all the highlights of her most popular book, The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie, and skipping the sincere love story part that endeared her to me in spite of her farcical plotting. She completely missed the point.

I will be resetting my romance reading summary, The (Shameful) Tally for the New Year. I’m under the impression I’ve read everything decent in the historical romance genre and now I have to wait for the good authors to publish new work, so I am anticipating far less shame and a proportionately reduced tally. I may have to read a real, proper book work of literature.

A summary of Jennifer Ashley’s catalogue can be found here. Links to my other reviews can be found on my complete reading list of books sorted by author or Author Commentary & The Tallies Shameful.

The Wallflowers Series: Secrets of a Summer Night, It Happened One Autumn, The Devil in Winter, and Scandal in the Spring by Lisa Kleypas

Bow down, motherfu*kers. The Queen is in the house.

Go look at my list of books by author. Note that one author has TWENTY-THREE entries on it. Lisa Kleypas is my historical romance genre gold standard. Hers are the books I place on the “keeper shelf”, have re-read the most, and will recommend to anyone who will listen. As is my wont, I read one of her best books first and then went back and devoured everything else I could find. Her earliest work is a bit rough, but she started gathering steam with Dreaming of You (CLASSIC) and forged ahead from there. She has a few connected series, but The Wallflowers and The Hathaways are the strongest.

Kleypas specializes in rakish, sardonic, self-made men, otherwise known as my catnip.  One of the things I find particularly enjoyable is that the men have either worked their way up from virtually nothing, or are making their own way in the world despite inherited privilege.

The Wallflowers, Annabelle, Evie, Lillian, and Daisy, are four young women out in society who bond over their mutual rejection by eligible men. After spending time on the side lines of many a ballroom, they decide to work together to find suitable husbands. There is a lot of cross-pollination between the stories which means you get to visit the characters multiple times.

Continue reading

The Slightly Series: Slightly Dangerous by Mary Balogh

Mary Balogh is a reliable and consistent romance genre author. She’s been putting out books for years and years, and with the advent of e-books will be reissuing her back catalogue for quite some time to come. I do not begrudge any author the chance to cash in, except maybe that 50 Shades of Twilight woman. I generally read Balogh when nothing else is handy, but I would go so far as to say this particular book is a classic of the genre.

In my (scathing and bitchy) review of Jennifer Ashley’s Mackenzie series , I wrote that the common series structure has the last book be about “the most forbidding of the men; the one you can’t imagine rooting for, or whose arrogance and aloofness is nigh on insurmountable”. This is that book, but instead of digging deeper to find sexually-twisted tyrants all the way down a la Ashley, Mary Balogh shows us a deeply caring man, motivated only by love and duty. Wulfric (I know) Bedwyn, Duke of Bewcastle, is the eldest of six children and each have already had their story told;  I gave Slightly Married a try, but when I skipped ahead to page 200 to check on the [cough] action I met the sentence, “He gave her his seed,” and I was out.  I did read all of Slightly Scandalous, but, despite a wonderful rake, the heroine was off-putting.

As the family protector and a Duke, Wulfric is a very serious man weighed down by duty and propriety in a way that is everything repugnant about the antiquated notion of aristocracy; fortunately, he falls for a woman who punctures that and makes him human.  Christine is a free-spirited widow living in genteel poverty who encounters the Duke at a house party (because it’s the Regency and that’s how they do).  She is both drawn to and leery of the Duke and her objections to his character, as she perceives it, and the role of his Duchess are the basis of the book’s tension. He’s fighting it for all he is worth, too, but in the end, she deigns to rescue him and it is lovely.

An Amazon review described the book as “Notting Hill meets Pride and Prejudice” and I can’t do any better than that.  The story is not as funny as some, and is virtually chaste, but the two main characters are so well drawn and fight against their attraction so valiantly that it carries the story along wonderfully. To use romance genre lingo, this book goes on the “keeper shelf”.

Also by Mary Balogh –
A Handful of Gold  for which I created a romance review template.

The Survivors’ Club Series:
The Proposal (Hugo/Gwen) – pleasant
The Arrangement (Vincent/Sophia) – very sweet, understated
The Escape (Benedict/Samantha) – meh
Only Enchanting (Flavian/Agnes) – Wonderful, read this one. Read it twice.
Only a Promise (Ralph/Chloe) – very good
Only a Kiss (Percy/Imogen) – see below
Only Beloved – May 2016

Links to my other reviews can be found on my complete reading list of books sorted by author or Author Commentary & The Tallies Shameful.

The Brothers Sinister Series: A Kiss for Midwinter by Courtney Milan

A Kiss for Midwinter is one of my all-time favourite romances. It’s in my top five.

I read romance novels for the banter, and, indeed, the romance, but writing emotion genuinely and sincerely is very difficult. A Kiss for Midwinter contains one heart-stoppingly romantic moment and such moments are rare. Julie Anne Long almostalmost managed one in her last book , but of the scores of novels I’ve read, I would say there have been maybe 8 times when I was actually overwhelmed by the sincerely romantic nature of what was happening. Not crying mind you, but gasping and covering my mouth, and doing that hand fanning gesture while I took a moment. This was that.

A Kiss for Midwinter is a novella in Courtney Milan’s Brothers Sinister series. The collection includes two novellas, this one and The Governess Affair, and a full length novel, The Duchess War, so far. I have read and will read everything in the series, and anything else Milan publishes. She is the best writer in the business. Tessa Dare is a lot of fun, Julie Anne Long gives great smolder and is wonderfully funny, but Courtney Milan is an artist. She’s funny, romantic, realistic, and heartbreaking, plus this book has a Spinal Tap reference in the first chapter. Her heroes are exclusively protectors, perhaps slightly forbidding (I’m looking at you, Smite), and possess fierce honesty. They demand the same honesty of their partners which allows the women freedom from Victorian society’s double-standards and strictures.

Lydia Charingford is the best friend of The Duchess War’s Minnie and this story picks up where that happy ending left off. Set in 1860s Leicester, Lydia has recently broken her engagement and is at a loose end. She and Dr. Jonas Grantham volunteer with a group that provides support to the local poor, the same group which populates his practice. Jonas has been in love with Lydia for over a year, but his brusque, brutally frank manner overwhelms her, and, more importantly, makes her feel seen through into places where she does not wish to look. With a terrible sense of humour and a bleak world view, Jonas sets out to court the vivacious Lydia by daring her to accompany him on three house calls and not be demoralized. His prize, should he “win”, is a kiss. If she wins, he must never speak to her again.

Having a wager involving a doctor working in the slums allows Milan to write about parts of the world usually seen only in passing in novels built around cultural necrophilia. The story is well-researched and the quality of it, and the writing, lift her books out of the genre. Not that there is anything wrong with the genre, but when I read Milan it can feel like I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out: A perfectly enjoyable piece of escapist reading suddenly feels like a “proper” book. I don’t know how to say that without insulting the genre, other than to clarify: There are things one looks to these books for and glimpses of workaday reality are not among them, but Milan folds everything in so well, the reading experience becomes more, and with every book she’s getting even better.

A complete summary of Courtney Milan’s catalogue, with recommendations, can be found here.

Links to my other reviews can be found on my complete reading list of books sorted by author or Author Commentary & The Tallies Shameful which includes the aforementioned observations.

The Mackenzie Series: The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie, Lady Isabella’s Scandalous Marriage, The Many Sins of Lord Cameron, and The Duke’s Perfect Wife by Jennifer Ashley

There are only two romance genre hero types and a few storylines. That’s it. The hero is either a Rake or a Protector. If, for some heretofore unimaginable reason, I was asked to, I could slide down The Shameful Tally and instantly assign Rake/Protector status to all of the heroes listed. I prefer a “reformed rake who will make the best husband” myself, with an occasional big lug thrown in for variety. If the hero is sardonic and calls the heroine “Sweetheart”, I am SO IN. The Rakes are generally charming, dry, seemingly indolent, and very experienced. The Protector is a warrior: probably taciturn, very kind, gentle, and uncommonly stalwart. So you take one of these two men, make him either wry or laconic, and match him to one, or more, of these storylines: The Reformation of the Rake; The Awakening of the Wallflower; The Revenge Plot; The Marriage of Convenience (including The Road Trip and Intrigue or Mystery) or The Tortured Hero or Heroine.

The Tortured Hero moves through the other stories and, depending on your taste, can be as thoroughly or as gently tortured as is your preference. MANY of the characters have sleep issues in these books and PTSD comes up a fair amount, too. Traumatized soldiers and child abuse survivors are common. Unless you are reading one of the really good authors, the psychological issues are not particularly realistic and seemingly easy to overcome.

But let’s move on to the more fun kaleidoscope of spoilers and annoyance with the author part of the review. These books each have an exhaustively tortured hero. The spoilers will help get my point across and, more importantly, the endings are foregone conclusions, so how much can I ruin anyway? Here is what you need to know about Jennifer Ashley:

When she is good she is very, very good, but when she is bad, she is horrid.

The entire range exists in every book. It’s kind of mesmerizing.

The Mackenzie brothers’ father was a fu*king monster who murdered their mother and was psychotically abusive towards his sons. All four men are very damaged. Damaged in a way that in real life creates drug addicts, madmen, or living in the metaphorical fetal position for years at a time. As is often the case, the last book features the most forbidding of the men; the one you can’t imagine rooting for, or whose arrogance and aloofness is nigh on insurmountable. The Mackenzies are intense, insanely rich, scandalously behaved, and frequently kilted. A detail in the books’ favour is that they are set in my preferred clothing period (bustles!) which adds a frisson of joy to my reading experience.

The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie Protector

Ian has what I think is supposed to be Aspergers Syndrome, or a similar condition. His fascination with the widow Beth Ackerley is intense and highly-focused, but sincere, from the moment he meets her, and somehow manages to avoid obsession. Ian considers himself too damaged to love and, what with it being a romance novel and all, is proved wrong. Love heals all and redeems all. A nice thought. But while Jennifer Ashley can be spectacular at the love part, she is equally atrocious at the back story. You see, Ian not only has some kind of disorder (with savant elements, obvs), he was also abused by his fu*king monster father, and was institutionalized in 19th century England (shudder), and was experimented on/tortured, and may have killed a prostitute in a rage (who hasn’t?), and is being stalked by an obsessed investigator, and is exploited by his eldest brother, Hart, who treats Beth abominably. Overwrought enough for you? Frankly, I had enough trouble getting past the fact that he rarely makes eye contact with the heroine, and often loses the thread when she speaks to him, never mind the other 19 ridiculous elements.

Lady Isabella’s Scandalous Marriage Rake

Do you enjoy chaos junkies? This is the book for you!

Charming Roland “Mac” Mackenzie, is an artist. His fu*king monster father tried to break all his pencils and all his fingers, but Mac persisted. He cares deeply about his art; he doesn’t sell or display it, mind you, and he hasn’t painted anything good since his wife Isabella justifiably left him four years ago. Still. Artist. Mac and Isabella met and married on the night of her society debut when she was 18 and he 23. Madly in love, their relationship was a roller coaster of honeymoon periods, his overwhelming behaviour, then disappearances and reappearances to repeat the cycle, until a pretty epic final straw.

The story begins after a 4 year separation, but includes flashbacks and excerpts from local gossip papers. Mac has decided that Isabella has had enough “space” and it is time to rebuild the relationship. Conveniently, his house burns down and he moves in with her. Sure. There is a lot of “Come here! Go away!” They love each other deeply, but Isabella is afraid of being hurt again, although she is willing to, um, consort with Mac. He is trying to show he is a better, calmer man, and sober. Did I mention he is a recovering alcoholic? Or the sub-plot about some crazy guy who is forging Mac’s works and just happens to look almost exactly like Mac because of course he does, and faux Mac paints Isabella nude from his imagimanation which freaks her out, despite the fact that it’s romantic when Mac does it, and helps them find their way back to one another and move forward with their lives? It’s how they do.

Many Sins of Lord Cameron Rake

For all my railing at the overkill, I did actually enjoy the first three books quite a bit, particularly this one. You just have to skip over chunks of ridiculous exposition lest one succumb to the desire to fling the book away from oneself with great force. I read them on Mr. Julien’s Kindle, so that would have been what is known as “a bad idea”.

Cameron owns and trains race horses which, I have to admit, is pretty cool. He’s a widower with a teenaged son, Daniel. His rampagingly mentally-ill wife killed herself during one of their arguments. The first Lady Cameron was so melodramatically insane that she makes the first Mrs. Rochester look a bit wistful. She was a violent, deranged, alley cat of a woman who beat, burned, and attempted to sexually violate him. Cam is supposed to be about 6’ 4” and brawny, but he let his wife hurt him, so that she would not hurt their infant son. Yet he didn’t, oh, I don’t know, institutionalize his wife, or seek proper help for her. This, apparently, shows loyalty. Cam’s a skooch damaged. Oh, and with a few exceptions, like the heroine of the book and his sisters-in-law, he hates is deeply distrustful of women. That’s an interesting choice in a romance novel: the hero sees women as beautiful, rapacious toys, interested only in pleasure and presents. Swoon.

Into Cam’s life comes the widow Ainsley Douglas. She’s a good and kind woman, who has a scandal in her past, but don’t we all? Ainsley is a lady in waiting to Queen Victoria, who either ignores Ainsley or is monumentally demanding according the whims of the author and needs of the plot. She is tasked with retrieving stolen love letters from the Queen to Mr. Brown (historical reference bonus +5, I guess) that just happen to be in the possession of Cam’s current mistress, who just happens to ALSO be a lady in waiting to the Queen. To sum up: blackmail, Queen, women untrustworthy, bad man owns good horse and must be thwarted subplot, Ainsley and Cam ♥.

On an up note, the fu*king monster of a father pretty much left Cameron alone.

I was willing to overlook over the histrionic elements in the first three books for the actually very charming and sincere love elements, but there is one more to go:

The Duke’s Perfect Wife Protector

So here with are with Hart. The earlier books hint at a very dark and shocking sexual history, including a propensity for violence, plus there’s that mistress he kept for years who tried to kill Beth in book one. Hart spent The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie treating Ian like a servant and Beth like a gold digger, and the subsequent books being an overbearing tyrant. Once upon a time engaged to Eleanor, she broke his heart and left him. I think it was because of the mistress, I can’t remember, whatever, it was ENTIRELY justifiable and she is ENTIRELY too understanding about everything. Hart married elsewhere and then lost both his wife (who was ENTIRELY terrified of him) and his infant son in rapid succession.

As this book begins, Hart has decided to win Eleanor back because, apparently, she’s his true love despite the whole long-standing-devoted-mistress-who-accomodated-his-fetishes-and-tried-to-kill-Beth thing. If this were virtually any other romance novel, this is when we would see beneath Hart’s anguish and turmoil to a deeply caring man, motivated only by love and duty, despite the seemingly impenetrable veneer of sexually-twisted tyrant. Good luck with that. Ashley spent three books setting him up as an irredeemable bastard with frightening proclivities and an all-consuming hunger for power. She did a great job. I hated him. He is not misunderstood, he is a fu*ing monster. I didn’t want to read about Hart’s true love for Eleanor, or the story gymnastics Ashley performed to make him bearable because it just wasn’t possible. I simply jumped through the book to visit the brothers and was glad when it ended.

Books are still being added to series. You will note that despite my protestations, I have read them all and a summary of Jennifer Ashley’s catalogue can be found here. Links to my other reviews can be found on my complete reading list of books sorted by author or Author Commentary & The Tallies Shameful.