When I heard the news that many of your romance titles were being released as ebooks by Open Road Integrated Media, I felt a pang of jealousy for those newer romance readers who would have the opportunity to discover your work for the first time. When the opportunity came to interview you, Jane [...]]]> Dear Ms. Gaffney,

When I heard the news that many of your romance titles were being released as ebooks by Open Road Integrated Media, I felt a pang of jealousy for those newer romance readers who would have the opportunity to discover your work for the first time. When the opportunity came to interview you, Jane suggested that perhaps some reviews of these older books wouldn’t be amiss. It was natural for me to review Lily, since once upon a time it was among my top five favorite romances.

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that Lily fell out of favor with me at some point; that’s not the case. Unlike most romance readers (at least so it seems), I don’t reread. Not even favorite books. I’m not sure why not – for the first five or so years that I read romances, I reread regularly. I guess at some point I just decided that there were enough good new books out there for me to read; I didn’t have time to keep rereading things I’d already read. I keep my favorite books, to be sure, and wouldn’t be parted with them. I just don’t read them. (I’m sure the fact that they are in boxes in a closet with stuff on top of them contributes to this – if I had them on shelves and easily accessible, my habits might be different.)

My point, and I do have one, is that I haven’t read Lily in part or in whole, for a long, long time. Inevitably, over the years, my tastes have changed. So I approached the book with a measure of trepidation – what if it didn’t live up to my remembrance? Not only would I be personally disappointed, would I then have to (gasp!) give Lily a bad review?!

I needn’t have worried – while I found some flaws in the story (flaws I very well may have noticed the first time and forgotten), I still found reading the book, over all, a magical experience.

The book opens with Lily Trehearne dealing with the recent death of her father and the trying attention of her guardian, the Reverend Roger Soames, who insists that Lily must marry his son Lewis. Lily has no intention of or desire to marry Lewis; she only needs Soames to put up with her for a short while until she reaches her majority and gains a small inheritance. But Soames won’t take no for an answer, and threatens to have Lily taken up as a thief (he burns several pounds in the fireplace and then calls to his son to fetch the constable) if she doesn’t comply. Lily and Soames tussle, and in an attempt to get away Lily pushes Soames, who in true melodrama fashion falls and hits his head, and lies apparently dead on the hearth as the law pounds on the door. Lily flees in terror, grabbing the first coach out of town.

A chance encounter with a housekeeper traveling back to her employer lands Lily a job as a maid in Cornwall, which she figures is remote enough to hide in for the time being. So she comes to Darkstone Manor (!!), home of Devon Darkwell (!!!!), whom she first encounters drunkenly waving a pistol in the hall. It turns out that Devon is not normally given to such Elvis-like behavior; he’s especially distraught on the anniversary of the death of his child. Devon is normally rather buttoned-up and repressed.

Lily is going under the Dickensian alias of Lily Troublefield, and (at first at least) sporting a ridiculous Irish accent as further disguise. She is quite unsuited to the position of housemaid, having been raised as a gentlewoman, albeit an impoverished one. Her beauty and her innate nobility attract Devon’s attention, though it’s hardly love at first sight. Devon is definitely a product of his time; he just doesn’t understand why a housemaid won’t spread her legs for him. It’s only when he is injured (reluctantly participating in his brother Clay’s smuggling activities, Devon is wounded by the King’s men) and Lily must nurse him that a deeper relationship develops.

Devon and Lily’s romance is deliciously old-school in all the best ways; above all it’s a roller-coaster. He pursues, she retreats; she relents, he treats her like shit (afraid to love done wrong by a woman once blah blah blah). Lily is badly injured, and it’s partly Devon’s fault. So he’s nice for a while (well, kind of), and then there’s a big mis and he’s really, really not nice. She goes away and he pursues her and is not nice some more and then she goes away again and this time he pursues her because he’s realized he was wrong. And then a bunch of other stuff happens. Lily doesn’t lack for action.

One thing that struck me about the book is that it has an unusual number of villains (I guess if your characters are going to suffer that much, you need lots of villains to facilitate). There’s the Reverend Soames, whose fervent religiosity is revealed to be less than genuine; there’s the housekeeper, Mrs. Howe, whose religiosity is more sincere but also kind of violent and loony; Mrs. Howe’s son, the dastardly valet Trayer, and finally one whose identity I won’t reveal, since it’s kind of a spoiler to events in the second half of the book. The last villain, actually, is a bit of a pitiable figure, though his actions are such that I wouldn’t call him sympathetic.

Besides the (honestly kind of delicious) over-the-topness of Lily, there were a few things I noticed that mark it as an earlier, less sophisticated effort. I mentioned Lily’s silly Irish accent; in general her early behavior has some TSTL markers that really aren’t indicative of her personality as a whole. Even the fleeing after Reverend Soames is injured struck me as kind of hasty, though I took into account the fact that he was, as a man and a minister, much more powerful than she, and that 19th century English justice may have left something to be desired when it came to the fates of poor orphan girls.

Other than that, there were quite a few abrupt POV switches that forced me to reread paragraphs to figure out whose perspective was being relayed. Generally, though, the seeds of the author’s fine prose style are strongly in evidence here.

The characterization of secondary characters is very good. There’s Clay, Devon’s happy-go-lucky younger brother – he’s a bit of a rogue (I would’ve mourned him not getting his own book, but he has a fiancee by the end of Lily anyway). There’s Lowdy, another housemaid who befriends Lily and speaks in an almost incomprehensible Cornish accent (normally I would recoil at dialogue rendered in dialect, but it’s kind of fun to try to figure out what exactly Lowdy is saying). Most of all, there is Meraud, the mysterious moor-hermit who takes Lily in after she flees Devon. Meraud is thought by locals to be a witch, but mostly she just seems no-nonsense and a little strange; her avocation is the creation of giant sculptures of mud and straw, which, given that she creates these out on the moor where absolutely no one sees them definitely qualifies them as art for art’s sake. Meraud is a vibrant, unique character, and her relationship with Lily is almost as important as Devon’s.

Cornwall itself, with its unique and specific qualities, almost qualifies as a character itself. It’s full of rocky outcroppings and smugglers and treacherous tides and pilchards; I’m reminded of another of my favorite romances, and the first book I reviewed for DA – Penelope Williamson’s Once in a Blue Moon.

I write this review aware that some readers may read the book and just not be able to handle its old-fashioned style: either the relentless sturm und drang or the dickishness of the hero will put them off (possibly both). But I know that there are readers out there who haven’t read Lily who will love it as I do. My grade: straight A.

Best regards,

Jennie

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Back in 2006, Jayne and I wrote a few reviews of our all time favorite books.  We primarily read and review “new to us” books whether those are new publications or recently republished backlist titles.  Because of that, our archives are thin as it pertains to the books which might considered modern [...]]]> Dear Ms. Garwood:

Back in 2006, Jayne and I wrote a few reviews of our all time favorite books.  We primarily read and review “new to us” books whether those are new publications or recently republished backlist titles.  Because of that, our archives are thin as it pertains to the books which might considered modern romance classics.  The holidays are a perfect time to remedy that.

“The Bride” is one of my most often read books.  I purchased it new in 1989 and proceeded to read it so many times that the spine fell apart.  When Penguin (who apparently must have bought Garwood’s digital backlist titles after they reverted from her original publisher, Pocket) began rolling out the release of new titles, I snapped up my copy.  At $5.99, I felt like I was getting a real bargain.

Jamie is the youngest daughter of Baron Jamison who owes the crown money. To pay his debt he offers two of his daughters to marry two Scottish Lairds to help cement a peace between Scotland and England.

In many ways, this is a twist on the Cinderella story. Jamie’s mother came to Baron Jamison with Jamie quickening in the belly. Jamison treats Jamie as his own. But Jamie pays for her place in the family by working.  When her mother died, Jamie slowly but steadily took over the mistress duties and her father let her. Jamie’s hands are calloused and her step-sisters are not. She runs the keep, manages the finances, and ensures that the family has a home over their head. What saves Jamie from coming off as a pained martyr is she is portrayed as not only embracing her role as doyenne of the keep, but welcoming it. She doesn’t see herself as being used or abused by her family. When she is taken to Scotland and instructed to rest, she believes that her new husband isn’t valuing her.

The fairy godmother might be the stablemaster, Beak, a Scot himself who views the Scottish Lairds appearance at Baron Jamison’s keep as a way to give Jamie a new and better life.  He confronts the two Scottish Lairds, Alec Kincaid and Daniel Ferguson, and tells them that the Baron Jamison treats his daughters like his horses:

Baron Jamison treats his daughters just like his horses and that’s a fact. Only have a look around you and you’ll get my meaning soon enough. The pretty little ladies in these three stalls are for the baron’s daughters, right there for anyone to see. But if you’ll walk down this long corridor and turn the bend, you’ll see another stall hidden away in the far corner by the side door. It’s separated from the others. That’s where the baron keeps his beauty, a magnificent white pretty just waiting for a proper mating.

Jamie is beautiful, a wonder at healing, capable of managing a huge keep, able to tame the wildest of horses.  Yet, for all her perfection, she is somehow relatable.  She doesn’t view herself as beautiful and every other skill she has she deems without much value.  She acts as if she is ordinary even if those around her view her otherwise.

Alec Kincaid is a fierce warrior who is only taking an English Bride to appease his King.  His first wife killed herself and The Kincaid, as they call him, views a wife with as much interest as he has for his horse.  Despite Jamie’s beauty, her strong defense of her family, and her winsome manner, Alec still is intent on placing Jamie firmly in the wife category, much to Jamie’s dismay.

Jamie doesn’t allow Alec to walk over her. Her strong personality and the rightness she feels in her own beliefs impel her to challenge him: “Alec, if I’m not any good at kissing, it’s your fault, not mine. Maybe you aren’t any good, either. What think you of that possibility?”

Neither Jamie nor Alec change much in the story.  Their character arcs are subtle.  Jamie begins to see her self worth shouldn’t be tied up in how much work she does for others.  Alec’s insistence on holding himself emotionally apart softens when he falls in love with Jamie.  In a true melding of the best of both worlds, Jamie’s deliberate refusal to understand the intricacies of clan feuds highlights the ridiculous nature of some of them but she also comes to understand the fierce loyalty the clan system invoked.  Robin once said that the key to a captivity narrative is that the captive changes the captor and his people in some measurable fashion.  ”The Bride” exemplifies this.  Jamie is taken from her home, a forced Bride, and changes Alec and his people by adopting the best of their culture and melding in her own sensibilities to create a more harmonious life for everyone.

“The Bride” features classic Garwood tropes. The inept but beautiful heroine (usually English). The stoic, long suffering Scottish Laird who must marry to protect his people but has no intention of caring for the lass. The reluctant clan that is won over by the heroine’s dogged attempts to fit in. Humorous gags that repeat themselves throughout the book. In “The Bride,” it is Jamie’s poor sense of direction and her name.

“I’ve been in England too long,” he admitted, “else I’d find your arguments overbearing, wife.”

“Will you quit calling me ‘wife’? I have a name. Can you not call me Jamie?”

“It’s a man’s name.”

She wanted to throttle him. “It’s my name.”

“We’ll find another.”

“We will not.”

and

“It isn’t decent to touch like this in front of others, Alec.”

“It isn’t?”

She ignored the amusement in his voice. “No, it isn’t,” she repeated. “And my name is Jamie. You’ve still to say it, Alec.”

“It’s a man’s name.”

“Are we back to that?”

“Aye, we are.”

and

“Did you say your name was Jane?”

“No, it’s Jamie,” she instructed.

She nodded when Gavin continued to look confused.

The soldier turned to Alec and blurted out, “But that’s a man’s name.”

Throughout the text, “that’s a man’s name” is a repeated refrain, always interjected at just the right moment to provide comedic relief.  The use of repetitive phrases and motifs are not limited to humor. In the first sex scene between Jamie and Alec, the phrase “Not yet” is traded back and forth between the two, first used by Alec to signal that he isn’t ready to put an end to their activities and her introduction to intimacy and then by Jamie to inform Alec that she isn’t ready to stop.

Another writerly technique that is employed very effectively is the cliffhanger chapter endings matched by startling chapter beginnings.  Chapter One starts with “They said he killed his first wife” and ends with “Still? it would make the kill so much sweeter.  Chapter Three ends with:

“It will be a frigid day in heaven before I marry you, milord, a frigid day indeed.”

“You’ve just described the Highlands in winter, lass. And you will marry me.”

“Never.”

Exactly one hour later, Lady Jamison was wed to Alec Kincaid.

and Chapter Five begins with “She wore black to her wedding.”  There are no wasted scenes in this book.  Every word that is stated by the characters is important in either building the characters or advancing the plot.  The use of repetition is done with obvious intent and not because of a writerly tic.

Probably nothing in this book is historically accurate, but I care not.  As Jayne famously recited in her review of “The Raven Prince” by Elizabeth Hoyt: “I so believed in the romance and the world you’d created between these two that if you’d told me they got into a Range Rover and drove off into the sunset on the M25 I would have nodded and said “of course, that’s the perfect vehicle for Jock to fit into”. That is how I feel about “The Bride” and a whole series of historicals written by you.  A

Best regards,

Jane

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I’ve been intrigued by your writing for a while. Your tagline is “Kink, love, and a happy ending. Do you Dare?” which I think is incredibly cute. Honestly, though, I’ve been put off by your publishers (Total-e-Bound and Resplendence Publishing…who?) and by the fact that your series are quite so long (TWELVE [...]]]> Dear Ms. Dare.

I’ve been intrigued by your writing for a while. Your tagline is “Kink, love, and a happy ending. Do you Dare?” which I think is incredibly cute. Honestly, though, I’ve been put off by your publishers (Total-e-Bound and Resplendence Publishing…who?) and by the fact that your series are quite so long (TWELVE stories?!). But I bit the bullet, bought all TWELVE of your G-A-Y series, and I’m going to review ALL of them here.

I chose the G-A-Y series because they’re all m/m, they’re all kink (as all your books are), and they “revolve around various problems gay men might encounter. The stories can all stand alone, and can all be read in any order,” although I’m reading them in order. And the series is complete, so I won’t be missing any. $36 initially seemed steep for 12 stories, but, God, these are SO good, it’s almost worth it.

TL;DR overall impressions for those who can’t be bothered:

• The editing sucks. Doubled words, missed words, and homonyms, worse in some stories than in others. So I was right to be leery of your publisher. And the prices are a bit ridiculous: $2.96 each for 15,000 words each. It just seems…a bit much.
• However! The stories are AMAZING. Oh my ghods, lots of angst; perfect emotional arcs for the short novella size of the stories; amazing distinct, individual characters; hot hot sex.
• The stories are all D/s. You’ve got very little pain play in the stories (except one) and occasional sneers about “sadists” which set up my hackles. But the D/s is fun and very well done and it’s SO fucking refreshing to have stories in which the fact that the characters are D/s isn’t where the angst and trauma is located.
• I’ve read more of your stories than this series (all m/m, though — none of your m/f yet) , and unreservedly recommend every one I’ve read. You’re a very consistent author with strong writing, strong individual characters, great conflict that gets solved satisfyingly every single time, and really great sex.

1. Gaydar
Mathias has incredibly bad luck with men. Either his gaydar is completely messed up, or he’s got really good asshole-dar. He makes an assignation to meet someone in the men’s room of a bar, only to be met there instead — and thoroughly kissed — by the bartender, who has been watching him and lusting after him for months. None of Matt’s experiences have ever been more than fumblings in the dark or an hour in a hotel room, so he’s completely unprepared not only to be with someone who is out, proud, happy, and looking for a longterm relationship, but is also a dominant. He’s very confused and very turned on:

The moment Flynn closed the door, Matt dropped to his knees and reached for the other man’s fly. Flynn easily caught both his wrists in his grip before he even felt denim under his finger tips.

“Don’t do that,” Matt protested.

“Do you remember what your safe word is?” Flynn checked.

Matt nodded. “Yes, but I find it a hell of a lot easier to think when you don’t do that, so if you’re going to start confusing me again, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t hold on to me like that.”

Flynn smiled. “It only distracts you because you like it, don’t you? Being held like this, belonging to another man.”

Matt looked at his wrists, somewhat scared by just how much he loved the feel of Flynn’s hands wrapped tight around his skin. Trying to push that aside, he cleared his throat. “I’d also like to suck you off. I’m good at that. I know what I’m doing with that.”

“I’m sure you do.” He made no move to release Matt’s wrists and let him get on with it.

Matt looked down. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he whispered, surprised by his own honesty. Without knowing what it was Flynn wanted, he had no idea how to keep Flynn wanting anything at all from him and that was even scarier than the lust that shot through his veins every time Flynn’s hands took hold of him.

I liked this story. Told entirely from the perspective of Matt, he’s funny and sweet and sad — partly it’s his unrealized submissive nature that steers him wrong in the first place — and it’s great to see him get his happy ending. Flynn was…pretty much a cipher, but he liked, respected, and wanted Matt and that showed. The only thing that was annoying was Flynn talked about himself in the third person: “It’s not a test. Just show your master how much you like sucking his cock and everything will be fine.” I loved the collaring scene in this story, how it shows that Matt has the courage to go after what he wants. And the sex is hot.

Grade: B+

2. Gay Like You
Tristan’s mother is trying to set him up with someone, anyone. She invites Cory to dinner, someone Tristan knew in high school but who hasn’t been around for years. Cory hasn’t been around because his family threw him out when he was 15. It’s implied, although never stated outright, that he hustled to make do. Certainly he doesn’t know how to interact with Tristan at all without bringing sex into the equation. Tristan shows him that he likes Cory without the sex, but it takes some intense work to get Cory to believe him:

Tristan turned the smaller man around in his grip. “If we have sex like this, you’ll disappear and I’ll never see you again.”

He had no doubt about that. Something about Cody screamed his need to belong to a man who didn’t screw him at the first opportunity. Even if Cody didn’t know it was what he needed, Tristan knew he had to prove that he knew Cody was more than a convenient screw.

“You think I’ll stick around to be turned down again?” Cody snapped. “Thanks, but humiliation isn’t one of my kinks.”

As a result of the waiting, the sex is put off and put off and is intensely emotional when it happens. I LOVED this story. I loved the angst. I loved Cody’s emotional barrier. I loved Tristan’s solution. It’s told from the alternating perspective of both men. And the sex was SO hot. I can’t think of anything wrong with it besides the fact that it was too short. Hits all MY buttons.

Grade: A-

3. Gay Till Graduation
Baxter, who is gay, has lusted after his best friend for years. Spencer, who is bi, is swearing off women, because they might get pregnant and thereby prevent successful college graduation, as it does for a mutual acquaintance, six months before graduation. He’s also intrigued and, we get the impression, pissed that Baxter’s been seen subbing at a kink club. Spencer’s “gay till graduation” vow quickly includes “Baxter’s master till graduation.” Three months later, they’re doing well together, but there are cracks at the edges because Baxter’s convinced Spence is going to dump him as soon as they graduate. Seeing his stress, six weeks later, Spencer’s trying to convince Baxter that everything will be better after graduation, which hurts Baxter terribly, because he thinks Spencer wants to get rid of him.

It’s all one Big Misunderstanding, but for all that, it’s well done and believable. And the fight they have is so well done. Authors can write good sex, good barriers, good resolution, but still fuck up fights. This fight was great and natural and fun. And the make-up sex is, naturally, awesome.

Grade: B+

4. Gay For Pay

This is NOT a Gay For You story, like I thought it would be. Ben Smith is a security consultant and has been charged with finding the missing son of one of his clients. He finds Nate Lockwood for auction as “Gay for Pay” in a ridiculous BDSM club. He buys Nate (hope he can expense that!) and gets him out of the club. He then works out that Nate has promised his father never to say that he’s gay (we find out that it’s because his father is worried that Nate, with his submissive nature, won’t be able to hold his own in business when the gold diggers come out after he comes out — it’s complicated…).

I thought the plot was a little too far-fetched, but Ben’s gentle, dominant guidance of Nate’s first sexual (and first BDSM encounter) was sweet and hot. The story wraps up all the emotional ends very nicely, but there’s one thing at the end that’s odd. Ben gets Nate to sign two documents and then uses the fact that Nate signed without reading them as an object lesson in the fact that Ben’s not a gold digger and doesn’t want any of Nate’s money. But we never find out what the documents are. And that’s just strange.

Grade: B-

5. Gay Divorcee

This one was a little odd. Jones is raving about the possibilities of gay marriage equality at a BDSM club and pisses of Grayson, an older Dom who, it is revealed after he makes a fool of himself ranting about how gay marriage should be banned, married his submissive as soon as he was able to but then found his submissive fucking another man and had to get divorced. So he’s bitter. But not bitter enough to refuse Jones’ offer of spending Christmas together. They hit it off while they each try to figure out what Christmas means to them, but have too much vodka-spiked punch. In their drunkenness, Grayson collars Jones using his submissive’s old collar and when he realizes in the sober light of morning what he’s done, he vows to take things much slower.

What I like about Dare’s work is how she’s got 24 men in these stories, and even though 12 of them are dominant and 12 of them are submissive, they’re all still very distinct from each other, as is the sex and even the D/s interaction between the men. This one is about two men who are really comfortable with themselves and their sexualities finding out what they like about each other and how they can negotiate each other’s baggage and still have a successful relationship, very little angst involved. Gentle, sweet, and hot.

Grade: B

6. Gay Since Today

Tyler Harris and James Ford are at university. Tyler’s had a crush, both romantic and kinky, on James Ford, even though James is straight. Except Tyler’s friend comes to tell him that James is in the gay bar across the street. Tyler rushes there and meets James, who’s just come out (“Gay Since Today”). Tyler takes him back to his place and introduces him not only to gay sex, but also to kinky sex — and he’s right: James is a fabulous dominant. But after their first encounter, it looks like James was pulling off an elaborate April Fool’s joke, rather than really coming out. The Medium-Sized Misunderstanding is dealt with quickly and the boys get back together.

I love reading about an experienced submissive and a virgin-dominant coming into his own. It’s so seldom done because the balance of being “tutored” by the submissive and still exercising dominance is pretty difficult to do. But Dare does a pretty good job. The misunderstanding in the middle was…annoying more than anything else and it seemed that the heroes went through the same realizations in the second half as they did in the first half.

But at the end, there’s a HUGE error about the day on which everything happened. First encounter is March 31, second is April 1, but at the end of the novel, they’re saying it was April 1, and then April 2. Pulled me right out of the story and pissed me off right royally.

Grade: C

7. Gay Pride

Jayden shows up drunk and wearing only a gay pride flag on Crenshaw’s doorstep. Crenshaw is a gay and leather rights activist. Jayden is a reporter who nominally wants to interview him, but really just wants to introduce himself to Crenshaw and hopefully start a relationship. Crenshaw refuses Jayden’s drunk advances that night but allows Jayden to sleep on his couch and in the morning they start to explore their attraction. Crenshaw introduces Jayden to some pretty heavy bondage and Jayden loves it. There’s a hiccup when Jayden announces that he’s a reporter and Crenshaw takes it the wrong way, but Jayden sticks up for himself and gets Crenshaw to admit that he’s wrong in his assumptions.

Over all cute, but not a standout story. I like that Jayden stands up for himself, but the opening scene where he’s naked and drunk and Crenshaw turns him down (rightly so) is a little wince-inducing. But the sex is hot because so unusual

Grade: B

8. Gay Man Seeks Same

Craig McKinley has a huge crush on his coworker Donovan but feels that Donovan’s way out of his league, experience-wise, and anyway, he just wants to find one guy to love and grow old with and he knows One-Night-Stand Donovan doesn’t that. So he goes onto an online dating site and tries to find someone else like him. His first date turns out to be…with Donovan, who is finally ready to admit his interest — his long-term interest. But Craig is convinced that Donovan wants with him what he’s had with all his other lovers. Refusing to consider any alternatives, he figures this is a chance for him to have one night with Donovan before he moves on.

Donovan doesn’t make clear until the very end that he’s interested in anything other than a one night stand, so the reader is taken in as much as Craig is, especially since Craig is the only point-of-view character. Donovan is dominant, of course, so Craig gets to explore bondage with his friend. Confronted with Donovan’s bedroom of kinky delights, Craig feels overwhelmed. Donovan asks him:

“Do you know what my favourite thing is—what I like to play with more than anything in the world?”

Craig shook his head.

“A submissive. Without a man to tie up, the rest is all pointless. It’s the man who goes in the bondage that’s important—everything else is just window dressing.”

I love that answer. :)

Grade: B-

9. Gay Friendly

Ellis is 18 and goes with his cousin to a “gay friendly” hotel, where he finds himself fending off unwanted advances from all the other guests. Thompson helps him out by granting him a collar of protection and then letting Ellis sleep in his room when Ellis’s cousin’s friends get too “friendly” in their room. Over the next week, Ellis and Thompson slowly start exploring each other.

The age difference here was a bit squicky: Thompson is over 30, Ellis is 18. But Dare doesn’t leave this undiscussed. Thompson insists that Ellis ask for everything, that it be obvious to all concerned that Ellis wants everything that happens to him. And it goes deeper than that:

Part of him couldn’t help but believe that Ellis would be far better off with a vanilla boy his own age. Except he’d seen how panicked Ellis became when he was with a man who wasn’t old enough to know how to take his time and appreciate someone who was so new to everything. And he’d seen the way Ellis had soaked up every touch of dominance that had been offered to him.

Bowing his head, Thompson brushed another gentle kiss against the younger man’s lips and forced himself to face the true facts of the matter. He had no intention of telling Ellis he would be better off with another kind of man because the thought of another man laying a hand on him made him want to throttle the guy. He tightened his grip around Ellis’ wrists at the very idea. Ellis whimpered his approval and rose onto his tip toes in the hopes of gaining a deeper kiss.

Because the age difference isn’t ignored, and because Thompson is such a mature character, perfectly aware of how far and how fast he’s falling and how to deal with Ellis, I totally trusted that these two would make it, despite the age difference.

Grade: B

10. Gay Best Friend

And here we have the Gay For You story I was expecting earlier and the opposite type of sub from the previous story. Carlton, who is straight, is best friends with Bryce, who is gay. At the pub one day, Carlton is sort of goaded into kissing Bryce (the other guys they’re with made a bet behind their backs, but Carlton noticed, kissed Bryce, and took the ante for the bet and split it with Bryce). This precipitates Carlton getting trashed, finding out that Bryce is not only gay, but kinky, not only kinky, but a very pushy, brash submissive, and then trying out his Gay-For-You feelings out on Bryce when utterly smashed. Bryce pours him into a cab, but the next time they get together, they explore things a bit more.

This is another story with an inexperienced dominant and an experience submissive. But this submissive is very dominant in his everyday interactions with everyone:

As fantastic a friend as he was, Carlton was more than a little aware that Bryce had the potential to be a complete bastard when you caught him in the wrong mood, and he sure as hell wasn’t the kind of guy to make things easy for a friend who suddenly found himself out of his depth.

No, Carlton couldn’t help but smile a fraction at the idea of him babying someone through anything. Bryce was very much the ‘learn how to swim fast or get back into the shallow end where you belong’ kind of guy.

I love how we get into Donovan’s head, even though the whole story’s from Carlton’s perspective:

The look of easy relaxation Carlton had seen in his friend’s expression earlier in the night deepened with every moment that passed, as if Bryce had focused in on that one task and, if only for a little while, that let him forget about the rest of the world.

I also love that this story has the dominant choosing to bottom for sex, to make a point to his submissive about how “Gay For You” he really is:

When Carlton opened his eyes, Bryce was staring up at him. It was only then that he really realised just how closely every single move he made, his every reaction was being studied. And Bryce would remember it all. He had no doubt about that. Bryce would always know, and he’d always know that his gay best friend knew just how much pleasure shone in his eyes when he rode him for the first time.

Loved this story all around.

Grade: A

11. Gayday! Gayday!

Okay, first thing: Rip and Slade? Really? Scraping the bottom of the name barrel there. >.<

Right. So, Rip is a submissive who has a habit of getting himself in over his head at clubs. At which point he calls Slade, his dominant but straight — or so Rip thinks — friend to come save him. And Slade’s happy to oblige, giving them a great scene each time he does, with no strings attached. Except both Rip and Slade increasingly want strings. Finally, Rip gets himself into a really bad situation…and gets himself out of it again, meaning, he thinks, that his need for Slade’s “white knight” routine is exposed for the ruse it has been for a long time. Then things get really interesting.

I love the twist at the end where Rip thinks he’s messed everything up by NOT needing saving. But I found it incredibly frustrating that he remains utterly blind to the fact that Slade is very very bisexual. Even at the end, Rip thinks:

he had never allowed himself to fall so far into his fantasies that he’d forgotten he was playing with a straight man who was occasionally willing to indulge in a little guy-on-guy kink when given the right motivation.

This is quite so frustrating, because it’s made very clear in their very first scene that Slade comfortably identifies as bi.

That aside, this is a great story. It’s one of the very few that has some pain play in the D/s when Slade punishes Rip.

Grade: B+

12. Gayish

After reading eleven really strong, interesting, sexy stories, it was very disappointing to read the last one of the group. It seemed very scattered and confused and the characters seemed a little off.

Ben Langford, out and proud, is at a gay pride rally in the rain. He sees across the road, standing in the rain, the deli counter guy he’s been lusting after for months. The guy’s either waiting for a bus, or trying to get up the courage to go to the rally. Langford takes him home, dries him off, takes him back out to the rally to introduce him to people, then takes him back home and fucks him. And I understood why he did that, but it dragged the story out and didn’t seem to add much to character development. And Tayton was just a wet blanket. I wanted him to grow a spine and he never really did.

Grade: C-

Overall, except for the last story, I loved these stories. They all did a great job at showing the very beginnings of twelve different relationships between twelve different couples. Each of the characters were distinct, as were all the relationships, all the D/s pairings. This series utterly hooked me on your writing. Which is great, because you seem to do a lot of it.

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The title of this book is what got my attention. I mean, how could it not? Once I saw it, I knew I had to read it. Who’s the Rat God? Who is his bride? What on earth is going on here?

If not for her actress sister-in-law Chrysandra Flamande taking her [...]]]> Dear Ms. Hambly,

The title of this book is what got my attention. I mean, how could it not? Once I saw it, I knew I had to read it. Who’s the Rat God? Who is his bride? What on earth is going on here?

If not for her actress sister-in-law Chrysandra Flamande taking her in, WWI widowed Norah Blackstone would still be an underpaid, overworked servant to a nasty, older woman in gray Manchester, England. Sometimes Norah still can’t believe how Christine blew into her life and whisked her away to sunny California as a companion to Christine as well as her three Pekinese dogs – Buttercreme, Chang Ming and Black Jasmine.

Though she can’t act to save her life, Christine is in the movie business and the pampered mistress of studio head A.F. Brown who’s given his “mad about all things Chinese” rising star a beautiful, though unusual, necklace reputed to have been looted from the Imperial Palace. On the night of the premiere of her latest movie two things happen – Norah meets camera man Alec Mindelbaum and an older Chinese man desperately tries to warn Christine of a life or death evil that’s been raised by her wearing the necklace. Already used to the lengths that movie fans will go to in order to see their favorites, Norah dismisses the odd old man though she and Alec agree he wasn’t like the usual fans.

But later that same night two more things happen – a stunt double who wore the necklace is brutally murdered and a violent storm blows through the area during which the three Pekes go berserk. The next morning the Chinese man, Shang Ko, appears and almost mystically manages to be hired as Christine’s groundskeeper. Still, no one is willing to believe what he says about the necklace and how it means Christine is now promised to an ancient, evil Manchurian god. But when bizarre things begin to happen on a location shoot followed by a mind blowing event after a star studded party, Christine, Norah and Alec can’t deny that something evil is lurking and maybe the old man is right. Can the four of them thwart the Rat God of his promised bride and keep from destroying half of Los Angeles while they do it?

After I read the glowing review of this book at All About Romance, I immediately ordered a used copy online that then sat on some bookshelves near my computer desk for years, silently urging me to read it. Finally I took it down and slid it into my reading rotation. Now that I finally read it, I wish I’d done so years ago. It’s fascinating, well written, fast paced and packed with tension leading to a dynamite ending. It’s also got a sweet romance between a woman who thought her heart was dead and a fantastic hero who’s probably a good four inches shorter than she is, bearded and who wears glasses. Readers who want to experience an unusual hero need look no further.

A friend of mine has Pekes and the descriptions of Christine’s three furry protectors are so accurate that they come alive for me as individual little people from Buttercreme’s outraged hiding when people visit the house, to Chang’s conviction that everyone is a long lost relative and finally little Jasmine struggling up and down stairs while being extremely vocal about that. They are also fiercely protective of both their mistress and Norah and play important roles in the ultimate take down of the Rat God.

The world of 1920s Hollywood with all its pre Hays Code wildness is vividly brought to life. The film stars of the day might have earned more money than the average American would see in a lifetime but the physical and mental cost of the 18 hour work days and churning out a film a month would need the easily prescribed cocaine to keep them going. And who cared for Prohibition? Free flowing booze, some of it even safely made!, was the order of the day. Sleek Nash roadsters, beaded flapper dresses and elegant cigarette holders add to the visual images that filled my head while reading the book.

As for the fantasy elements of the story, I guess if a reader is willing to buy a book called “Bride of the Rat God,” then he or she will be willing to go along with the plot. Clues are woven into the story from the beginning but one thing I like is how you gently drop them into the narrative without pointing neon arrows at them. Yeah the premise, when examined as a whole, is outrageous but since it’s doled out little by little, I had time to swallow the tiny pieces and buy into the whole shebang. The time frame of the story is also crucial since it draws on actual things which were common then such as powerful studio heads manipulating crime scenes to protect their investments, the simultaneous mania for China with the blatant racism against the Chinese in L.A., the specific locations in and around the city which feature in the book plus the “free for all” film industry of the day.

As well the danger is slowly revealed such as when Norah notices something about the foundation of Christine’s house after the early storm that scares her yet it’s another page or two before what alarms her is finally described. It allows time for my brain to magnify the mystery and terror of what could possibly be there and the implications that arise. Later on all the clues and forshadowing make sense but the whole thing is allowed to build to the thrilling climax.

The wealth of period detail, the pulse pounding ending, the complex characters, the tight narrative and three wonderful little dogs make “Bride of the Rat God” a winner for me. I wish it was currently in print but there are used copies to be found and an ebook version available. For people tired of vampires, were-creatures, Regencies, gazillionaire CEOs and secretly pregnant heroines this is something different to sit down and fall in love with. A

~Jayne

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The novel “The Black Hawk” begins in 1818, six hundred yards from number saeven Meeks street where Justine, a former member of the French “Police Secrete,” long estranged [...]]]> Reader Christine sent me this beautiful review of Joanna Bourne’s book, The Black Hawk, and I am honored to share it with the DA readership.

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The novel “The Black Hawk” begins in 1818, six hundred yards from number saeven Meeks street where Justine, a former member of the French “Police Secrete,” long estranged from her former lover Adrian, now Head of British Secret Service, is hurrying to his headquarters to break their impasse and warn him of a deadly plot she has uncovered being woven around him. An assassin attacks and Justine has her first face to face meeting in years with Adrian while lying gravely wounded on the rug of the entryway. I say the novel begins in 1818 rather than the story, because as any follower of this author knows, Adrian and Justine’s story really “began” twenty two years before.

The greatest danger of any novel where a supporting character becomes a standout over several books and readers clamor for their story is disappointment. When their tale is finally told it is often impossible for the book to live up to what may be years of reader anticipation and expectation. It can result in a perceived triumph (Zsadist and Bella) or a letdown (Gina and Max) by its readers.

I had followed the story of “Hawker” aka Adrian Hawkhurst, not chronologically, but in the order Joanna Bourne wrote her books. First encountering him as a wry, seasoned and flirtatious 18 year old agent during “The Spymaster’s Lady,” leaping forward nine years in time in “My Lord and Spymaster” to learn more secrets of his past, enjoying his avuncular role with the heroine and his new responsibilities as  head of section, to finally hurtle back in “The Forbidden Rose” to see him on his first mission  in 1794 as a surly thirteen year old thief and cutthroat pressed into British Service after a botched job robbing their headquarters. Hopping about in his history like Dr. Who on the Tardis, touching down in this time or that, here and there, not fully understanding the implications of a random sentence in his “future” until offered a “later” glimpse into his past. I enjoyed myself picking up pieces of his puzzle and felt clever for sussing out the clues woven by Bourne into the novels. Bits of Justine and Adrian’s history are seeded in these books, offering tantalizing glimpses of what promised to be an epic and passionate romance begun in 1794 with two very precocious thirteen year old agents working for opposing sides during the French Revolution.

My anticipation for this novel was so great that when the parcel containing the ARC arrived at my home, I clawed it open leaving shreds of envelope in my wake as I charged up the stairs, book in hand to barricade myself in my room with this Holy Grail until I had learned all the twists and turns of their story. Whenever Joanna Bourne publishes a new novel the temptation for me is to devour the book as quickly as possible, gulping it down whole in my rush to experience it. This does her work an injustice however, as books by her are like a box of fine Laduree macaroons, not cheap junk food. They should be leisurely savored as the exquisite delicacies they are, for Bourne is a master wordsmith, able to charm, excite or break a reader’s heart with the stroke of her pen.

When I settled in to read, from the first page all my fears of disappointment melted away. This is the story I was hoping to read, and even better than imagined. While the novel begins in 1818 we don’t miss a piece of Adrian and Justine’s relationship. From 1794 on, through “flashbacks” we follow the growth of their friendship and love while they act as official adversaries but frequent allies during one of the most tumultuous periods in history.

Because of their past, this romance is more wistful than Bourne’s previous works and feels more serious. In previous books the couples’ stories evolve over a matter of weeks, not years. By allowing their relationship to mature and evolve over time, their story seems the most passionate and complete. It is also the most heartbreaking as time and circumstances serve to continually separate them. This is not to say the romance is dark or depressing, for when the two are together their sheer joy in each other’s company leaps off of the page. As Adrian observes, admiring Justine “Owl, at work was bright as the edge of a diamond, hot as fire sparks. Tonight heat glowed out of her, from wanting him. He glowed right back, wanting her.” Knowing their romance jeopardizes both of their lives they still cannot help snatching stolen moments across most of Europe while in the midst of intrigues and wars that continuously put them on opposite sides.

One of the most refreshing things about Adrian and Justine how is equal they are as a couple in almost every way, including age, experience and drive. Justine and Adrian struggle to meet in the middle on so many grounds, literally and figuratively. He is bettering himself after a ragged upbringing in the toughest part of London as a cutthroat and burglar for the “King of Thieves,” while she is striving to deal with the horrific abuse done to her after knowing only a privileged childhood as an aristocrat.  He is clawing his way up from the bottom; she is struggling to survive there after a plummet from the top. Both are using their native intelligence and respective opportunities in the “game” to advance their positions in life. In so many novels the woman is the inferior to the man, trailing along in his wake and content to conform her world to his. While Justine has the misfortune to be both a woman and on the losing side of the war, she pursues her goals as ruthlessly and advances as steadily in her world as Adrian does in his. Their relationship does not culminate in her conceding or “seeing the error of her ways” as she is a true idealist for her cause, willing to sacrifice her life for a man that she sees as bringing the first sense of equality to her country. In her opinion “Napoleon was all that held France together. He was the great man of this age. He renounced the worst excesses of the Republic but kept the great gains. Because Napoleon held France, all men could vote. The Jew, the Black, the poorest peasant in the field- every one of them was French and free…The Republic had been purchased with rivers of blood. Only Napoleon could preserve it.”  So often in novels the means for keeping a couple apart seems contrived and false and the characters appear foolish as a result of letting it happen. In “The Black Hawk” it seems perfectly logical throughout the book that not only their opposite sides, but their equally strong wills would keep them from finding a way to be permanently together for so many years.

Perhaps the most touching thing about Adrian and Justine’s romance is how well they know and accept each other. Justine, emotionally scarred by her abuse has allowed it to define her in her own mind. “For some things there is no lie big enough…The knowledge of what she was lay down at night to sleep beside her. Stared at her from the mirror every morning. “I was a child whore in the most fashionable and degenerate house in Europe.” “I can escape France but I cannot escape what I am.” In Adrian she finds a kindred soul who has already come to terms with the violent life he was born into and considers any escape from the narrow confines of it a triumph. The acceptance Justine sees in his eyes helps her to work through her feelings of self loathing. “His voice poured warmth over the cold inside her. He knew what she was. Knew what she had done. There was no condemnation in him. He had done terrible things, himself.” Their love affair, rather than shameful, is seen as cleansing by Justine, a kind of rebaptism, and begins initially (and quite symbolically) in the middle of a downpour. Adrian continually thinks of himself as two people, the street thief he was born and “Sir Adrian” the persona he created over years of study and work. He makes a careful division between the friends who know him as a respectable servant of the crown and those that knew him when. Adrian allows only Justine to see a part of him he has had to repave to advance in the world. When they reconnect briefly in England in their later teens Justine asks him to speak English for the first time with her but he initially refuses as “They don’t want me speaking English.” “I don’t do it right.” He quickly relents and allows Justine to hear his tentative and imperfect new “upper class” accent.  Each is unafraid to show each other the parts they hide from the rest of the world. In lives that are led totally in deception they can be truly honest only with each other.

Throughout “The Black Hawk” Bourne provides so many scenes I had longed for as a reader, a glimpse into Adrian’s home life in England, Severine and Justine interacting in France and later after her adoption, Meeks Street under Adrian’s rule with new upstart apprentices (who do not react as Adrian did to a recycled barb of Carruthers), Doyle as older agent and advisor, and the close friendship that develops between former rivals Pax and Adrian. Chief amongst these joys is seeing Justine and Adrian together and through each other’s eyes.

At one point Justine’s observes a now adult Adrian, her lover, while hiding together. “His jacket fell open around him, pulled by the weight of the knives he carried in secret pockets inside. He slouched beside her. The gray waistcoat fitted his body as close as skin, showing a man of lean muscle. A tomcat of a man. A sleek imperturbable hunter. The strength of him, the danger, the coiled spring of unlikely possibilities that was Adrian Hawker – all contained within that elegance.”

Their mutual admiration for each other is based in a healthy appreciation for each other’s intellect and skill, and pride in each other’s accomplishments. While Adrian frequently remarks on how beautiful he finds Justine, he is just as impressed with her intelligence and tenacity. “Ten feet from the door he let himself look back. Owl had attached herself to that bastard Napoleon, playing guard. She was drawn up straight, all steel ready to shoot anybody who looked at Bonaparte cross-eyed. Clever Owl. Consummate professional. Nothing she didn’t see.” When Adrian figures out a complex riddle perplexing them both, Justine is just as appreciative of his mental acuity and tells him. “You are more than adequate.” He was her Hawker and he was brilliant. He was already pacing back and forth across the rugs. Thinking. Plotting. Muttering to himself. Had she not seen this a hundred times? She had never wanted him more. She said “I must leave. This will require preparation.” And because there was no one else to tell him this. “You have been clever. You are very, very clever.” Both Adrian and Justine are, and for a reader nothing is more enjoyable than reading a beautifully written story about two highly intelligent people.

I have tried to avoid spoilers for the plot as I feel any reader should be allowed to be carried along and experience the books twists and turns as breathlessly as I did, but I will say an underlying theme of this book is the manipulation of children and how they are used and/or abused by both sides of the conflict. This is something both Justine and Adrian feel keenly and work to prevent when they can. I don’t however, think it is a spoiler to say there is a clever twist I did not foresee, and that eventually everything ends happily, perfectly, but not in any way saccharinely. There are no big reunions between Justine and Adrian and couples of previous books. No gratuitous mentions of other characters are made; the only characters revisited are integral to the times and the plot. There are as always, a few oblique references that Bourne includes which never fail to make me feel clever when I catch them. (One very small one- Adrian is said to be very wealthy and among his holdings is a partial ownership in a shipping company. Any guesses who the other owners could be?)  

As a reader of all of Joanna Bourne’s works, with the exception of the frustratingly elusive “Her Ladyship’s Companion,” my opinion is this is the best novel she has written and destined to be a classic in the romance genre. If you have read Joanna Bourne’s work before you know what a compliment this is, and the depths she is capable of.

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I heard with regret that your Petit Morts series is drawing to a close; although I was late to the party, I have enjoyed these stories very much, and I’m sad to see them end.  Short stories are difficult to write and although short fiction is plentiful in the m/m romance genre, I [...]]]> Dear Authors,

I heard with regret that your Petit Morts series is drawing to a close; although I was late to the party, I have enjoyed these stories very much, and I’m sad to see them end.  Short stories are difficult to write and although short fiction is plentiful in the m/m romance genre, I frequently find it unsatisfying and I tend to avoid it. This series was a marked exception to that rule. In anticipation of the final installments of Petit Morts, I thought I’d review the previous set, which are written by three of the four authors in the upcoming volume.

The inaugural five installments of Petit Morts featured stories by Jordan Castillo Price and Josh Lanyon, and the second set contains two stories each by these authors and adds a fifth by Sean Kennedy. The stories are largely independent of each other, but they are linked through a recurring character, Chance. Chance is a chocolatier and facilitator of romance. In each story he opens a chocolate shop and helps the main character find his romantic partner. The stories are all set in the present, and Chance is the only supernatural element in them (at least I think he’s supernatural, and at this point in the series everyone and everything other than the chocolates are mortal and normal). The stories share a common tone, balancing serious issues with lightheartedness, but they also reflect the individual authorial sensibilities of their writers.

Pretty Ugly (PM #6) by Jordan Castillo Price. Dominic is a professional photographer who is very good at his job but rarely has personal relationships that last more than an evening or two. He attributes this to his ugly face, and now, in his early forties, he has come to terms with it. While photographing a society event he makes the acquaintance of a young and handsome country singer who seems to return his interest, but they are unable to get together that night. They make plans for the following evening, but in the meantime Dominic eats a delicious chocolate, photographs another event, gets his car stolen, and encounters an even more unexpected romantic possibility. The writing is smooth and Dominic’s character is well drawn. The shift in romantic focus threw me a bit, but the ending was unexpected and satisfying. Grade: B.

Sort of Stranger Than Fiction (PM #7) by Josh Lanyon. A stranger comes to a tiny western town, this time in the guise of a war veteran named Michael. Ethan, who runs a bookstore/coffee shop with his twin sister, has been crushing on the gorgeous but scarred Michael since he arrived, but figures he has no chance. But when Ethan says something unforgivably rude and Michael overhears him, it shatters their previous impersonal relationship and allows them to be honest. Lanyon’s skill at conveying depth and complexity in a small package is evident in this story. He takes gentle digs at writers’ groups and small-town life, but he also reminds us that there are people everywhere who dream of having something different, something that takes them out of their everyday lives. Michael remains enigmatic, and his attraction to Ethan was not fully apparent to me, but the twists and turns kept me turning the pages. Grade: B

One Less Stiff At the Funeral (PM#8) by Sean Kennedy. Jason Harvey is trying to arrange his first service as a director at the Newlin Funeral Parlor, and Adele Conway is doing nothing to make it easy. Rivaling her late mother in rudeness and general misanthropy, she insists that there be chocolates at the funeral, claiming it was one of her mother’s last wishes. When Adele throws up her hands and turns over the funeral planning to her nephew, Frederick, Jason first heaves a sigh of relief and then perks up considerably when he comes face-to-face with Fred. Few authors can fuse sweet, funny, and charming in a story as well as Kennedy, and this short really shows off his voice. Chance and his magical chocolates play a more central and overt role, and his other-wordliness is at the forefront, as is his wit and snark. Grade: B+

Critic’s Choice (PM #9) by Josh Lanyon. This story returns to one of Lanyon’s familiar contexts: the Los Angeles of the cinema industry. Cris, a film critic and historian, is unwillingly reunted with his ex, Rey, when they meet to tape a voiceover commentary for a newly remastered edition of a horror film classic. They convene at the home of its star, the 70-something Angelo Faust. His sprawling Italianate estate is located above Sunset Boulevard (Gloria Swanson fans, take note) and guarded by a cadaverous major domo named Neat who is given to malapropisms. When car trouble, weather, and other occurrences right out of a horror film trap Cris and Rey together in Faust’s mansion, they find themselves finally talking about the individual and shared problems that drove them apart. The juxtaposition of light and clever with poignant and serious is ever-present and expertly handled. Grade: B+

Wishink Well (PM #10) by Jordan Castillo Price. This story opens from Chance’s perspective, but he isn’t opening a gourmet chocolate shop in a new town. Instead, Sweets to the Sweet is now a vending machine restocking service, and his client is Hospice House. Chance is wondering how he is supposed to facilitate true love in this environment when Eddie and his wheeled IV stand show up to buy a Pepsi. Eddie has terminal COPD, and he isn’t expecting much at Hospice House besides morphine, but he can still appreciate a gorgeous specimen like Chance. After their brief meeting, he finds that he is in possession of Chance’s fountain pen, which has properties even more magical than chocolate. Unlike the four previous stories, in which the heat level can be characterized as moderate, this features a long, explicit, and wholly essential sex scene. To describe it would be to spoil it. Under no circumstances should readers start with this installment, because part of its power derives from the way it plays on earlier portraits of Chance. The story is by turns funny, painful, and extremely moving. The writing is first-rate, and when I reached the end I turned right back to to the first page. A lovely, unusual story. Grade: A.

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 Jaclyn says:

When I opened to page one of Isle of Night I was expecting a historical romance set in Scotland—presumably on the Isle of Night. The ARC I had didn’t have a cover image and because I have enjoyed your books in the past I did not seek information about the [...]]]> Dear Ms. Wolff,

 Jaclyn says:

When I opened to page one of Isle of Night I was expecting a historical romance set in Scotland—presumably on the Isle of Night. The ARC I had didn’t have a cover image and because I have enjoyed your books in the past I did not seek information about the story before starting to read. My assumption was half right: most of the story takes place on the Isle of Night.

Isle of Night begins with seventeen-year-old Annelise leaving her abusive dad’s dingy Florida apartment to register for college. The specter of her father, who uses his fists to communicate, sows the seeds of suffocating menace that permeates the pages of this story. Unable to register for college and left with no money and nowhere to go, Annelise accepts the offer of a mysterious young man to drive her to the coast. But in turns out he didn’t mean the coast of Florida, and what follows is a coming of age story set in a school that trains girls to become agents for vampires—Watchers—who travel the world doing their masters’ work, whether it means gathering information or assassinating enemies. The experience of reading this book is visceral. As I read page after page my body was tense, my heart rate picked up as Annelise faced danger, I was scared for her and simultaneously wanted her to win and to escape, but mostly I wanted her to survive.

John says:

Unlike Jaclyn, I knew from the beginning what this story was about.  I was expecting an unusual setting for YA (Scotland – not the boarding school itself, which is a common trope in YA books) and something with a little more spice than the regular vampire novel.  The blurbs and marketing have been promising this as a combination of The Hunger Games and other big YA titles.  Many of the comparisons could have set this book to fail before it even began, but I was soon sucked into Wolff’s world the same way you were.

What makes me feel like this book works from the beginning is that it’s appealing to a lot of different fronts without feeling like a pretender.  I never once questioned WHY Wolff wrote this book – which I often due with these adult-turned-YA authors that come out with hyped books – and that in and of itself is something that I am impressed by.  She strikes a tone that feels completely natural, and she manages to make everything feel suspenseful and gripping.  Even the romance.  It’s a paranormal novel that really has a lot of grit to it.

Jaclyn says:

I agree with John about the tone and level of grit in this book. The most compelling novels create rich atmospheres that allow me to drop out of the real world and immerse myself in the events of the story. Wolff does this by appealing to all of the reader’s senses. Almost all romances offer detailed visual descriptions and appeal to a reader’s emotions, describing how things look and what the characters feel; with Isle of Night, sound, taste, and scent are deftly woven into the story, and in particular sound plays an important role in Annelise’s life and maintaining the tension throughout the story.

Annelise smuggles two things into the boarding school, a photo of her mother and her iPod, deciding that her need for the solace of music and a tangible connection to her beloved mom is greater than the potential for punishment if she is caught with the forbidden items.

During the early weeks of her training these two items become a source of life support, a moment of escape from the stress of the intense Watcher training and Annelise’s way out of the school without leaving the campus. But because they are forbidden, they also become a point of stress for the reader—will she get caught? What will happen if the items are discovered? And they are eventually discovered.

My only complaint in this whole story is the iPod: whenever Annelise listened to her iPod I found myself wondering how she managed to charge it—which drew me out of the story for a brief moment.

John says:

I think Jaclyn makes a really important comment above, so I’m going to reiterate it:

 ”Almost all romances offer detailed visual descriptions…”

The comparison is very adequate on a multitude of levels.  What is so appealing about Wolff’s style is that she has all of the description and atmosphere detailing of a romance novel—which would make sense, considering she’s penned several historical romances—while still keeping the pacing and focus of a YA work.

What Jaclyn describes about Annelise is precisely why I enjoyed her character.  I haven’t read The Hunger Games, so I can’t say how she’ll compare to Katniss fans, but I felt like Wolff knew how to make a strong female character that wasn’t perfect.  The iPod and the picture are both obvious weaknesses that get exploited throughout earlier parts of the book, and I felt Wolff really understood that her character couldn’t be this perfect person.  Annelise’s weakness is such a highlight to the story, and it’s really rewarding to see her grow into someone who can be utterly ruthless.

I think that the characterization extended well into the side characters, too.  Annelise’s love interest admittedly made me swoon.  Even her friends caught my attention.  Wolff has really thought about what her world entails, and I think it’s most obvious when you consider the side characters.  She has an island in Scotland where the elite train to be vampires—which is already a step from the YA norm—and she places all of these really interesting and diverse people on it.  There are characters from around the world in this story, and they don’t feel tacked on at all.  It gives such a good idea of just how sweeping her world is.

Jaclyn says:

John makes a good point—the secondary characters enrich this story. At the same they also play into the menace—Annelise is learning a dangerous lesson about whom she can and cannot trust. Each new person she met at the school left me wondering if they would betray her, though she manages to make some genuine friends.

In the last quarter of the story violence ratchets up as all the first year trainees, including Annelise, take part in a competition for the Directorate’s Award. The girls fight in one-on-one combat. There are a few rules to the fighting, but they are not intended to keep everyone safe and the girls are often fighting for their lives. In the last match Annelise faces off against her archenemy in an epic battle. When it’s over the true threat to Annelise is revealed.

After finishing Isle of Night I sat for a moment and realized I had read it straight through. Then I immediately headed online to find out when the next book in the series will be published. Isle of Night earns a well deserved A.

John says:

Like Jaclyn, this book completely sucked me in.  I didn’t read it in one sitting, but if I had the time I easily would have.  Minor quips like the iPod easily brushed past my reading, and I think Wolff sets herself up for what promises to be a strong YA series.  A-

Cheers,

Jaclyn & John

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A while back you posted on Twitter a couple of drawings that your late husband had done, explaining that while he was an accomplished artist, he never felt comfortable thinking of himself that way or having his art made public. At the time I thought it was sad that someone who so [...]]]> Dear Ms. Weir:

A while back you posted on Twitter a couple of drawings that your late husband had done, explaining that while he was an accomplished artist, he never felt comfortable thinking of himself that way or having his art made public. At the time I thought it was sad that someone who so obviously had the talent his drawings exhibited never thought of himself as an artist. Now, after reading your memoir, The Orchard, I feel that I have a deeper understanding of why that would be, and an even deeper sadness about all the reasons that it would, could, never be any different. But I also came away from The Orchard with a deep respect for your storytelling skill and the austere beauty of your prose. Even the harshest, ugliest moments of The Orchard are rendered carefully, gently, even lovingly, not in a way that softens their blow, but rather in a style that deepens their impact and significance.
So here’s the thing about apples: perfection on the outside can hide a multitude of ugliness on the inside. Worms and disease. Bruises that don’t show up until at least an hour after the fruit is handled with anything but the lightest touch. And producing the perfect apple requires incredible vigilance, sacrifice, gallons upon gallons of pesticides, and ideal weather conditions. And still the apple can be rotten on the inside. This irony permeates the narrative of The Orchard, starting on the first pages when the 8-year old narrator (referred to as Theresa only once throughout the entire course of the book*) is offered a mushroom by the neighbor:

 

“Have one, Theresa. I’m sure your mother won’t mind.”

She smelled like soap and clothes that had just been ironed. She wore pink lipstick, yellow beachcombers, and white sandals. She was so unlike the moody women in my family.

I ate a mushroom.

Later my mother and aunt put their dark heads together and whispered their concerns about the food.

They could be poisonous.

Oh, yes, they look poisonous. . . .

I didn’t tell anyone that my life was over. Instead I went to my room, lay down on the bed, and waited to die.

The mushroom was not poisonous, but that did not stop Theresa from experiencing all manner of ills, often from the very people in her life who should have been nurturing and protecting her. From her thoughtless father, who simply announced to her one day that he was leaving and would not be back, to her moody, self-centered mother, who brought man after man into her life, yearning for a happiness she could never create within herself, Theresa was too often a casualty of other people’s decisions and desires, never cherished as the center of someone else’s world. Even some of the people who loved her the most ended up failing her in one way or another.

It is therefore no surprise to the reader when she impulsively marries Adrian Curtis, the son of a prominent Illinois apple farmer, local royalty in 1970’s Henderson County, a handsome young man who picked up Theresa in her uncle’s bar and carried her to his family’s orchards, a few miles away from where she lived but forever away from where Theresa had ever imagined her life going. The vagabond child of a mother who didn’t want her and the niece of an uncle who couldn’t offer her much beyond his own affection for her suddenly became the 21 year old wife of a 23 year old apple farmer without even knowing what marriage would entail, let alone life on a farm with in-laws who despised her for her lack of pedigree and a young husband who could never articulate why he had wanted so badly to marry her, let alone ever tell her he loved her.

And yet the marriage and the family Theresa and Adrian built over the next 18 years became the very substance of Theresa’s life and of the story of The Orchard, with all of the bittersweet moments strung together in a narrative of incredible emotional resonance. Of her uncle, Theresa remarks with approval that unlike the women in her family, “he wore his cloak of despair in silence.” Adrian is the same way. No matter how long she spent with him, she “still felt he harbored a secret self none of us would ever know. In the middle of the night, I would wake up and lie very still, and I would feel his sadness in the bed beside me.” His incredibly controlling and cold mother (she tied toddler Adrian’s left arm to his side until he learned to be right handed) had almost inhuman expectations for her son, who toiled on the family farm like any hired laborer, until one day he would inherit the farm and virtually nothing would change. Except that Theresa was soon pregnant, and her son would be expected to follow in his father and grandfather and great grandfather’s footsteps.

Although The Orchard is Theresa Weir’s memoir, Adrian quickly becomes its central figure, in part because he and their children were the most important people in her life, in part because of how she struggled to understand her enigmatic husband, in part because of Theresa’s conditioned instinct to remain unobtrusive, and in part because Adrian’s life provides such a powerful vehicle through which Weir can investigate the intertwined themes of beauty, artistry, fragility, and devastating loss. Adrian could never tell her he loved her, but he bought her a horse after her beloved grandmother died, and Theresa recognizes this as his way of acknowledging her grief and trying to soothe her loss. He is a devoted father who will not let his children participate in the toxic rituals of apple growing, even as he puts himself in harm’s way every single day to meet the demands of the fruit’s elusive perfection and his own mother’s ever-looming rejection. In fact, Adrian’s devotion to his disdainful parents is so complete that early in his marriage he even eats suppers at their house, leaving Theresa alone for all but the late night hours, when they didn’t even speak to one another in the darkness of their tiny, musty cottage on the orchard property. Later in their marriage, when Theresa proposes they move away from the orchard, Adrian brings her to his parents so she can understand why such a thing would be impossible:

Adrian’s father made eye contact with me, and I almost recoiled at the iciness I saw there. Then he turned to his son: “If you move, don’t bother ever coming around here again. You won’t be welcome.”

And yet this man, who learned to draw right-handed because his mother had tied down his left hand when he was only three years old, is passionate in his own way. He draws beautiful pictures he won’t show anyone. He draws the things of his life, the “weeds,” as Theresa points out, the things that plague him like the codling moth that could destroy a harvest of apples like nothing else. He appreciates the beauty of the orchard and strives to develop his own type of apple, the Sweet Melinda, which “would have given Adrian a voice, given his ideas weight and validation.” In short, “[t]hey would prove his worth in a place where worth shouldn’t have to be proven.” And as Theresa shares in Adrian’s excited anticipation, she “understood the reward for seeking perfection.” Unfortunately, falling short of perfection could be a devastating drop.

What ultimately happens to the Sweet Melindas is, like so much else that happens to Theresa, an omen of things to come. Perfection on the outside, whether in the beauty of her husband or an apple, or even an apple farm, could hide all sorts of ugliness on the inside, and while you worked and sacrificed to keep that patina of perfection intact, worms or cancer or past fears and disappointments could be eating away at the soft, fleshy inside.

At one point Theresa notes that “[m]odern farmers were artists, destructive architects of the land.” As sublime as the aroma of the apple blossoms was, it could never eclipse the garlicky odor of the pesticides that was always in the air. Every beautiful site, every beautiful moment held the possibility of its opposite and the probability that something bad was the price to be paid for that beauty. And as she narrates her tale, Theresa returns again and again to the dualities of this world of which she was such an integral part but to which she never fully felt she belonged, observer and participant, her story unfolding like testimony, a confession of how helpless she often felt in the face of her fears and a chronicle of how stubbornly she survived, and in many ways, thrived in the beautiful but treacherous world of mortally engineered natural perfection. Like the apples, yet not quite the same. Similar in the way an apple so easily bears the scar of an overenthusiastic or aggressive grip, just like the human heart. Different in that where an infected orchard has to be plowed and burned, human beings continue on, given more opportunities to suffer or thrive.

Although we tend to read memoirs as “true,” I read The Orchard as a captivating, suspenseful, dramatically compelling story, and whether its details are strictly accurate is of no concern to me. The narrative consistently reflects a profound respect for art and beauty, as well as an appreciation for small blessings and the very human struggle for survival and happiness. And the interesting juxtaposition of Theresa’s strong-voiced narration and her apparent desire to be inconspicuous (the single use of her name, for example) raises fascinating questions about subject v. subjectivity, presence v. being present, identity v. identification, etc.

Ultimately, though, there is an emotional truth in Weir’s writing that is characteristic of the best fiction, and all of the characters in this narrative are vivid and “real” at a visceral level. I cried through most of the second half of the book and highlighted more passages than I could ever recount in a review, struck again and again by the straightforward artistry of the text, the depth of its metaphors, the complexity of its themes, and the absolute stark beauty of its truths. That Weir also writes Romance and Romantic Suspense is both astonishing and completely understandable if the events of this book are anywhere near the truth of her life, and while Theresa’s writing is a part of The Orchard, it is not, by any stretch, the focal point or even a main point of the narrative. Indeed, I hope this book reaches far and wide in terms of readership, because it’s so powerfully crafted and so satisfyingly cathartic. There is a great deal of sadness here, but it’s rendered with such care and such sensitivity that it becomes beautiful in its own way, sublime in the reader’s experience of every mundane and profound tragedy. And, for me, a perfect A read.

~ Janet

* note: when I refer to “Theresa,” I am referring to the narrator of the book, and when I reference Weir or Theresa Weir, I’m referencing the author of the book, which I see as distinct from, although related to, the narrator.

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Seven months [...]]]> I loved Fletcher’s baby. Sam Fletcher(the guy dumped in Finn’s Twins) comes home from Tokyo to find his mother telling him that his Aunt Hattie left him everything, her inn and Josie. Josie came into his aunt’s life at fifteen after roaming from foster home to foster home and is now the inn-keeper.

Seven months ago when Izzy was getting married Sam went there to get away and one night he found Josie crying when on her birthday her fiancee didn’t come. They start drinking and end up making love. Sam doesn’t really remember the details, he feels guilty and the next morning Josie is gone to meet her fiancee. He figures she may be married now.

Josie has been in love with Sam since fifteen but he never noticed her, so she started dating Kurt even if he was more interested in his parishioners. She even agreed to marry him when she found out Sam was engaged. But on her birthday when he doesn’t come she realizes how alone she is , how wrong he is for her. She loses her virginity to Sam and the next day goes to tell Kurt but Sam is gone.

She is shocked to see him in the inn months later and when he questions her, she blurts out he is the father. Sam who has never faced anything he couldn’t handle in life doesn’t know what to do, so he goes to clear his head and then offers to marry her but Josie says no but he is determined to stick it out and wonders why is it that women find it to so easy to refuse him, he’s nice, not bad looking and kind.

He starts working from the inn but Josie keeps avoiding him and derailing his work. Sam also feels guilty that he sabotaged her relationship with a man he thinks she loves. But when Josie has a little scare they come close with him taking care of her and she even agrees to marry him temporarily for the sake of the baby.

Honestly I loved the book. Josie was stubborn and wanted love which she never had gotten, poor Sam was clueless but sweet. Josie was also used to hacking it alone so accepting help from Sam came a little hard since she think he was doing everything out of responsibility which he initially was. Seeing these two come together was awesome and I loved how Izzy(Sam’s ex-fiancee) gave him some insight into the female psyche.

Rating 4.5

Saly

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Eight years later Prudy and Case meet again. They let their attraction run loose [...]]]> Prudy & Case’s first marriage ended when Case couldn’t forgive Prue for her deception. She desperately wanted a child (while Case didn’t) that she tricked him into getting her pregnant. She not only lost her baby, but her husband as well.

Eight years later Prudy and Case meet again. They let their attraction run loose and spend the night together. She gets pregnant. As she tries to get courage to admit it to him, he lands in her ER with a gunshot wound. And he needs someone to help him recuperate. Guess who’s the only one who can do it? :-)

I like Case, with all his surliness and bad temper. He loves Prudy so much, but his fear of having children drove him to hurt, eight years ago, and now. The scene at the end when he admits that he loves her, and their unborn daughter is heart-breaking.

We see some more of Luke, as well as Boyd & Stacy (h/h from Daddy By Accident (Maternity Row)).

Another great character is Case’s partner Don Petrov.

Rating:

4.5 stars

by Ana

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This is the book. This one started…well, that’s up for debate. It certainly started a new type of romance. Yes, there were romances before TFATF. There were bestselling authors who unabashedly wrote romance, even in the same style as TFATF: The Sheik (1919), Gone With the Wind (1936), Rebecca (1938), Forever Amber (1944). [...]]]> Dear Romancelandia.

This is the book. This one started…well, that’s up for debate. It certainly started a new type of romance. Yes, there were romances before TFATF. There were bestselling authors who unabashedly wrote romance, even in the same style as TFATF: The Sheik (1919), Gone With the Wind (1936), Rebecca (1938), Forever Amber (1944). The 1960s was the age of the Gothic. (Apparently an editor looked at the steady sales over 25 years since the publication of Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca and wondered if there were an untapped market. In 1960 Victoria Holt’s Mistress of Mellyn was published and Gothics took off.) But the 60s were turbulent times and the sexual tension without the actual sex of the Gothics stopped being titillating.

In the early 1970s, Woodiwiss’s first novel was rescued from the slush pile by editor Nancy Coffey. Coffey couldn’t put it down and threw the not-insignificant power of Avon’s paperback marketing machine behind the novel, releasing it as an Avon Spectacular, a paperback original. Initial print run was 500,000 in 1972 and it quickly went back time and again for reprints. In fact, in 39 years, it’s never been out of print.

Avon quickly received other manuscripts from other authors, most famously Rosemary Rogers’ Sweet Savage Love, famously addressed only “To the editor of The Flame and the Flower.” In 1974, then, they published SSL and Woodiwiss’s second novel, Wolf and the Dove. Bodice rippers then ruled; Gothics disappeared.

At this point I’d like to bring up the plot of The Flame and the Flower. Heather is 18 years old, reduced to drudgery by her aunt-by-marriage who is jealous of Heather’s stunning beauty and upset by her Irish ancestry. From this she is rescued by the aunt’s brother, who takes Heather to London to find a place for her as a teacher at a finishing school. This is a ruse, of course: he wants to rape Heather and then install her at the brothel he is part-owner of. Heather rescues herself — in fact, she thinks she’s killed the aunt’s brother. She runs away…and is mistaken for a prostitute anyway and dragged aboard a ship to slake the sexual lusts of Brandon Birmingham, captain of a merchant ship just put into port. Heather is unable to escape this time and Brandon rapes her. She escapes in the morning instead, goes back to her aunt’s house and works as a drudge again until her aunt figures out what Heather cannot: she’s pregnant. Brandon is blackmailed into marrying Heather by the friend of Heather’s father who threatens to impound Brandon’s ship and put him in jail. But in a fit of pique, Brandon vows not to bed Heather again, to treat her like a servant. This is more torture for him, because he can’t bring himself to bed anyone else if Heather won’t have him. Heather doesn’t understand what she’s missing, so she’s perfectly happy with the situation, if it weren’t for Brandon’s unpredictable foul moods.

They sail to America and settle at Brandon’s house, confronting Louisa, the fiancee he left behind who won’t leave him alone. Brandon and Heather slowly, achingly, and frustratingly find their way to each other, despite too many interruptions to count and the machinations of Louisa. A mystery raised in the last 100 pages is solved, Heather and Brandon declare their love for each other, and all live happily ever after in idyllic (slave-run) happiness.

Reaction as a reader? Heather and Brandon act like children. They’re both Too Stupid To Live. They both flounce off in fits of pique. I wanted to slap them both and tell them to sit down and TALK to each other, OMG. They don’t have any conflict that they don’t manufacture themselves. The sexual tension is maintained by interruptions of their hesitant attempts at sex, which is the mark of a very young writer. The pacing is positively glacial. The mystery and suspense also arise because Heather won’t talk to Brandon and tell him all the secrets of her past. The historical details are awful: waltzing in American in 1800?! Men wearing colored coats with embroidery in 1800? Women without any underwear at all?!

Seriously, y’all, I have to take a sidebar here to talk about the underwear. There are no corsets, no pantalets, very rarely a chemise, nothing on under the dresses the women wear. In 1800, even with the much more slender silhouette, women wore substantial corsets, with layers of petticoats and other undergarments. In this book? Nothing. Women are frequently bending over and showing EVERYTHING to the people in front of them. It drove me nuts.

And also? The baths! OMG, the baths. Everyone in this book has a bath every time they turned around. There were more baths in this book than I’ve ever seen. The servants and the heating that must have taken is staggering. Baths on ships! Baths at inns! Baths at home! Baths at the drop of a hat! Water was ALWAYS ready, servants always happy to oblige. Baths baths baths!

All in all, it’s a pretty wretched book. Now. It’s a pretty wretched book by modern standards, 39 years after its publication, and mostly it’s wretched because Woodiwiss was a first-time writer. I’m interested in reading both Wolf and the Dove and Shanna, which I’ve heard are much better than TFATF.

However! That plot summary demonstrates one thing: TFATF is NOT your “typical” bodice ripper. Oh, there’s bodice ripping, don’t get me wrong. Literally. But Heather has the Glitteriest of Hoohahs and Brandon can’t bring himself to do the nasty with anyone other than Heather after he has her the first time. Seriously, he has sex with an untried virgin twice, then doesn’t have sex with anyone again for an entire year, until she’s ready to try it again. And Brandon’s Wang is indeed Mighty: it gets Heather enjoying sex too, clueless as she is. Sure, Brandon rapes Heather, but it’s NOT the brutal, multiple raping and pillaging of typical bodice rippers, they’re together for all but 50 pages of the book, and they don’t ever have sex with anyone else. Rosemary Rogers might have taken the sexual tension and the rape of TFATF, but SSL is an utterly different book and I think lumping them together has done the romance genre a disservice for the last 40 years.

I’ll admit: it was a struggle to get through this book. I could not have done it if I hadn’t been reading it for academic purposes. I can read the most godawful stuff if I’m reading to analyze, rather than for pleasure. And trust me, this wasn’t nearly as awful as Coelebs in Search of a Wife (1809) by Hannah More, that I read three times for my dissertation. TFATF is a book by an untried writer. Except for the initial rape, it’s sweet and tender, if frustrating.

But, one way or another, it IS the book that launched a thousand others. One only has to read the messages in the condolences book after Woodiwiss died to see the joy she brought to this world. I dare you to read that with dry eyes.

Grade: C- on its own merits; A for influence.

Best regards,
-Sarah

BTW, if you want to hear more about Mistress of Mellyn or about my theories about The Flame and the Flower, there will be a presentation on each at the conference of the International Association for the Study of Popular Romance this Sunday-Tuesday, June 26-28, in New York City. Please register and join us!

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When I checked your website and saw this book mentioned, I got all excited and checked the eHarlequin site for ages waiting for it. Then it appeared and I read the blurb and thought, this sounds familiar. And for good reason as it was previously published as “Tenderly,” the fourth book [...]]]> Dear Ms. Reavis,

When I checked your website and saw this book mentioned, I got all excited and checked the eHarlequin site for ages waiting for it. Then it appeared and I read the blurb and thought, this sounds familiar. And for good reason as it was previously published as “Tenderly,” the fourth book in the Navajo Family Blessings series, way back in 1998. But just because I’d already bought a (used) copy and loved it didn’t stop me from buying it again, especially as you would get to actually see some moolah from me out of this deal.

Okay the blurb is slightly different from before and there are a few differences in the book, CD players have been updated to MP3s and the sex scenes removed, but this is basically the same story I fell in love with then. And that I’ve fallen for all over again after rereading it now. Ben and Eden are two flawed people, falling in love and dealing with a lot of issues.

Ben Toomey, an officer on the Navajo tribal police force, has no idea what’s up when he gets the message that Dr. Edna Trevoy is back in the area. As a child, he helped his father and several other Navajo men when they worked with Trevoy years before when she was studying the Anasazi and he vaguely remembers Edna’s daughter Eden. As several people will warn him during the book, Eden has been raised as the kind of woman who can breeze in and really hurt a man, a rich white woman who might toy with a Navajo man but who would never love him enough to stay. He knows Eden is nothing but trouble for him but he can’t help slowly falling in love with her.

Eden’s world gets rocked when her dying mother tells her that Eden is adopted. Though Edna had never really been that close to her, at least Eden had an identity as her daughter. Now she only knows that her white mother didn’t want her and that her Navajo father didn’t either. Suddenly she’s a half caste bastard with no family and no idea of who she really is.

Ben suggests that Eden stay with his grandmother Sadie for a while and learn something about the Navajo way of life. Of how to live in harmony with oneself and one’s world. Eden agrees and begins to find her place in the world and with Ben. A man she knows the world will disapprove of and one she wonders if she has the courage to stay with.

Lots happens in this book but you pull it all off without rushing or skipping much. Eden’s feelings of abandonment then anger over her past. Ben and Eden’s quiet falling in love even though they are told there’s little hope of a future for them. Eden’s growing knowledge of her Navajo heritage. And some revelations about past events that include characters from this and past books. Revelations that thankfully don’t get rushed into a quick HEA for all. You show both the bleak and the beautiful about life on the Rez, the danger and the dullness of being a cop, and about how Eden is torn but determined to learn who she is.

Navajo daily life is woven deep into the story and the characters. It is used not only as a contrast between Ben and Eden but shows some similarities as well. Eden got sent away to Eastern boarding school while Navajo kids were forcibly shipped off to boarding schools to strip them of their heritage. I think a major thing to know from book one is about how the tribe has authority over all children with Navajo blood. Edna’s memorial service highlights several differences. The way some information is presented as Eden begins to learn about her past worked for me as it doesn’t come across as an info dump. I love Sadie and how she rules the household. Ben does what she says and replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

Clues to Eden’s heritage are scattered throughout the story but it’s only after the truth has come out that they are evident. Eden’s reaction is realistic. She gets all she knows about her family yanked away from her then something she never expected put in its place and she’s not a happy camper. She has to have time to process. Then when she does discover who her father is, she’s got to do another 180 degree turn. The scene where Eden’s grandmother finally meets her and laments the lost years almost had me in tears. Then when, as the head of the household, she questioned Ben’s intentions towards her granddaughter, I was laughing again. Ben’s proposal is a delight.

Even though this is the fourth book in the series, I think it stands alone. If pressed, I would say that reading the first book, “One of Our Own” might help readers better understand some of the secondary characters and the background regarding how the Navajo view their children. I hope that Harlequin will eventually re-release all the books (One of Our Own, Meggie’s Baby, Mother-to-Be) but I’m tickled pink that this one is available again. A-

~Jayne

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I’ve been chomping at the bit to talk about this book with other readers.  I’ve felt, in the past, that your works were smart and thoughtful but sometimes lacking in emotional engagement.  I particularly struggled to connect with Ned Carhart in Trial by Desire.  But Unlocked packs an emotional punch from the [...]]]> Dear Ms. Milan:

I’ve been chomping at the bit to talk about this book with other readers.  I’ve felt, in the past, that your works were smart and thoughtful but sometimes lacking in emotional engagement.  I particularly struggled to connect with Ned Carhart in Trial by Desire.  But Unlocked packs an emotional punch from the very opening of the story.  My throat was tight and  tears pricked the back of my eyes for most of the story.

Lady Elaine Warren entered her first season, flush with excitement and brimming with vitality.  Evan Carlton, the young Earl of Westfield, was drawn to this vitality.  Yearned to feel it.  But because he was callous and immature, the popular Evan Carlton began to poke at Elaine, making fun of her at nearly every party until she became the butt of every joke in the season, until the vitality of Lady Elaine’s spirit was damped out.

When last he’d been here, he would have been the center of that crowd. His jokes had been the funniest—or at least, they had made everyone laugh the loudest. He’d been the golden boy—handsome and popular and liked by everyone.

Almost everyone. Evan shook his head. He had utterly hated himself.

Evan, recognizing his wrongdoing but afraid of his consequences and unsure of how to react, flees England and doesn’t return for 10 years until his father passes away and Evan is required to come home and take up the stewardship of the family affairs.  Upon his re-entrance into society, Evan is a changed man but society has not changed with him. Instead, it is the same people, with the same prejudices, making the same jokes that he had started 10 years ago, including the one about Lady Elaine.

He kept his voice calm. “I suppose she isn’t Lady Elaine any longer. Who did she end up marrying?”

“Really. Who would wed a girl who laughs like a horse?”

He looked at his cousin. “Do be serious. We’re not youths any longer.” Even from this distance, Evan could see the ripe swell of her bosom. When she had come out at seventeen, she had attracted attention, her body mature beyond her age. He had noticed. Often.

She’d been entirely unlike all the other debutantes: not just in body, but with that laugh, that long, loud, vital laugh. It had made him think that she held nothing back, that life was ahead of her and she planned to enjoy it. Her laugh had always put him in mind of activities that were decidedly improper.

Evan’s feelings of longing toward Lady Elaine haven’t changed and he attempts to set right the wrongs he did to Lady Elaine.  The more time he spends with her, the more he attempts to make reparations, the deeper in love he falls even knowing that he does not deserve Lady Elaine’s affections and that he may never win her heart.

Unmarried and a wallflower, Lady Elaine looks at Evan Carlton defiantly refusing to allow him to diminish her one iota.  She has spent the last 10 years trying to survive society and protecting her mother, a brilliant thinker in a time when brilliance in women is deemed nothing short of madness.

This story works so well, particularly in the short format, because we know immediately that Evan is regretful.  Second, Lady Elaine was hurt but she doesn’t wallow in her pain.  It’s marked her, of course, but she shows great courage in coming to party after party.  Third, there is no easy forgiveness for Evan. He really has to work at earning Lady Elaine’s trust, respect, and ultimately, love.  And finally, Elaine is human.  She lashes out when she is hurt even when she tries to put on a brave face. She isn’t perfect nor is Evan and therefore all the more relatable.

This story is like an anthem for every girl who has ever been mocked, criticized or made fun of.  Lady Elaine’s pain, her courage, and her ultimate triumph is painful and poignant.  And Evan is just as sympathetic even though he was the instigator of a deep wrong against Elaine.

This is a self published book and at 99c I felt like I was robbing the convenience store. I felt like I was reading a gift.  A

Best regards,

Jane

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Cotillion shows up on “Favorite Heyer book” lists all the time, and I never really understood why. I [...]]]> The first book I assigned my continuing education class on Georgette Heyer at NC State was Regency Buck. The second was Cotillion, which I actually taught last week. As one of my students said, “It’s just delightful.”

Cotillion shows up on “Favorite Heyer book” lists all the time, and I never really understood why. I mean, I’d read it, of course — I read (almost) all of Heyer’s historical romances. But in the sub-sub-genre of Regency romance that Cotillion belonged to (not smart heroes), I preferred Friday’s Child. But I assigned Cotillion because other people apparently loved it so much. And I’m glad I did, because it meant I had to read it again. And I loved it.

Kitty Charing is a penniless orphan. She’s lived her entire life with the friend of her father who is exceptionally wealthy but utterly miserly. She has no money of her own and Uncle Matthew feels obligated to leave his money to someone in his family. So he invites all his grand-nephews (who are of age and unmarried) to come to visit and offer for Kitty and Uncle Matthew will leave his money to the grand-nephew who marries Kitty. This way Kitty is provided for and the money stays in the family.

Three cousins show up, only two of whom are eligible: Lord Dolphington, an Earl who is slightly mentally retarded (there’s a throw-away line about him being a seven-month babe), and the Reverend Hugh Rattray. Hugh’s brother is also there, to bring Hugh up to scratch, but he’s married and Uncle Matthew doesn’t like him. Three cousins are missing. One’s in the Army of Occupation and we never hear from him. One is Freddy, the heir to a Viscountcy and himself not the brightest candle in the wall sconce. The other is Jack, the dashing and bold man-about-town who Kitty has loved for years. She’s furious that Jack didn’t show up, so runs away in pique. She meets Freddy at the local inn, partaking of dinner before he shows up at Uncle Matthew’s. She convinces him to fake an engagement so she can go to London — just for a month. She wants to make Jack jealous and realize what he’s missing.

So, she goes to London…and unwittingly falls in love with Freddy and he with her, thoroughly overturning Jack’s plans.

I asked my students what Kitty and Freddy learn, and we found something, but it’s so slight: she learns what a true hero is; he learns to grow up a bit. And although this isn’t profound, it doesn’t have to be. You just adore the characters anyway. And this is an utterly character-driven book. Nothing HAPPENS, but nothing has to happen because you’re having too much fun anyway.

And the characters are constructed in such a way that make the plot happen utterly naturally and perfectly. For example, Dolph is able to find his happiness because Uncle Matthew despises Dolph’s mother. Uncle Matthew’s dislike is set up at the very beginning of the book and seems perfectly natural and just the crotchets of an old, disagreeable man and don’t need to mean anything else. But they do mean something important by the end of the book, but it doesn’t look labored at all.

At the end of the book, there are four happy couples — it’s better than Shakespearean comedy.

But the book really is Freddy’s. He’s ridiculous and his sexuality is questionable (he’s a Pink of the Ton and very much NOT “in the petticoat line”), but he makes an amazing hero because Heyer does such a wonderful job of showing what makes a true hero. Kitty says at one point:

“Freddy is the most truly chivalrous person imaginable! . . . and a great deal more to the purpose than all the people one was taught to revere, like Sir Lancelot, and Sir Galahad, and Young Lochinvar, and — and that kind of man! I daresay Freddy might not be a great hand at slaying dragons, but you may depend upon it none of those knight-errants would be able to rescue one from a social fix, and you must own, Meg, that one has not the smallest need of a man who can kill dragons! And as for riding off with one in the middle of a party, which I have always thought must have been extremly uncomfortable, and not at all the sort of thing one would wish to happen to one — What is the matter?”

Meg raised her head from the sofa-cushions: “He w-would say it was not at all the th-thing!”

“Very well, and why should he not?” said Kitty, refusing to share in her hostess’ unseemly mirth. “If you were to hear of such a thing’s happening, you would think it most improper, now, wouldn’t you?” A sudden thought occured to her, and she choked, and said, in an uncertain tone: “As a matter of fact, he said that Lochinvar sounded to him like a d-dashed loose-screw!”

The Cotillion dance, according to Wikipedia, “The Cotillion is a type of patterned social dance that originated in France in the 18th century and was originally made up of four couples in a square formation . . . Its name, from French cotillon, “petticoat”, reflected the flash of petticoats as the changing partners turned. The Cotillion, of repeated “figures” interspersed with “changes” of different figures to different music, was one of many contredanses where the gathered participants were able to introduce themselves and to flirt with other dancers through the exchange of partners within the formation network of the dance.” This is an exact metaphorical description of the book: flashes of petticoat and couples forming and reforming in order to flirt. As my student said, utterly delightful.

Grade: A

Next up: Sylvester! and a visit from Sabrina Jeffries.

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I read this book back in February of 2011. I remember the date clearly because I started reading it the night I got to the Tools of Change convention. Angela James, Jenny Bullough (of Harlequin) and Sarah Wendell and I went shoe shopping the following day at what is seems to have [...]]]> Dear Ms. MacLean:

I read this book back in February of 2011. I remember the date clearly because I started reading it the night I got to the Tools of Change convention. Angela James, Jenny Bullough (of Harlequin) and Sarah Wendell and I went shoe shopping the following day at what is seems to have become an annual event. The problem is I didn’t really want to go shoe shopping. I wanted to finish my book. So I kept reading. While they tried to talk to me in the taxi. While they walked me down Lexington Avenue. While they gathered shoe boxes about 6 feet high. I really wanted to finish the book. Yes, finishing this book was more important to me than buying shoes. There’s your endorsement.

Despite the frothiness of the title, this book has quite a bit of meat to it. Miss Juliana Fiori is the half sister of the twin brothers who are featured in the first two books of the series. The hero is Simon, the Duke of Leighton. It is a classic tale of opposites. Juliana lives a life of scandal, thumbing her nose at societal conventions in every way she can without actually stepping over the line to be ruined. Simon is vying for the most virtuous man in society, in part out of duty and in part out of desire.

Juliana was born a scandal. Her mother was the former Marchioness of Ralston who ran out on her family with Juliana’s father, an Italian merchant. Her mother then abandons said Italian merchant and Juliana. When Juliana’s father dies, her guardianship is given over to her half brother and she is shipped to England where society views her as a lesser because of her mother, her birth, and her family. Juliana struggles with both wanting to be liked and fit in and disdaining the rigid morality. In order to prevent herself from being hurt by those who look down on her Juliana decides that the societal mores are for the dull and uninspired. If she cares about being a scandal, then she’s doomed to live in misery because society already hates and despises her. Over the course of the book, we see that Juliana is both right and wrong. She is right that she is viewed as a scandal but she is wrong to think she couldn’t have overcome some of the opinions of those who occupy the ton but in flaunting the rules, she is pushed farther and farther to the margin. As Simon notes:

Scandal was not her choice.

It was her burden.

Her bold words and her brave face were not borne out of pleasure but out of self-preservation.

When acts occur that make Juliana truly beyond the pale, she learns what true scandal is like and it is this sort of scene that impresses upon the reader what Simon is trying to avoid for those that he loves. The women of the ton turn from talking about her behind their fans to actually publicly attacking her to her face and Juliana begins to see the painful price of being considered a scandal.

Even his mother says to him:

” The duchess leaned forward and steeled her tone. “She is so far beneath you, she’s barely good enough to take to mistress.”

Juliana’s pain is so poignant. Her longing to be loved and accepted was palpable. Her heart was the opposite of the grinch. It was too sizes too big. And I loved where she decides that she is a person of worth and that she is deserving of someone who can love her without reservation, even if that someone is not Simon.

Simon has very good reasons to want to marry well and live a life of propriety. If anyone has read Ten Ways, the second in the series, they’ll know why but essentially he fears what Juliana suffers at one point in the book. Where the people of society, his peers, turn on him and generally make him and his family outcasts.

[[Visit blog to check out this spoiler]]

As Simon spends more time with Juliana, he realizes how passion can overcome the best intentions. He begins to act in ways that are anathema to him and to his beliefs. His passion for Juliana leads him to act as a rogue and rake and he despises his own weakness. Simon is also good friends with Juliana’s brothers. His actions toward them and then his actions toward their sister make him realize what a hypocrite he is. Simon’s downfall, however, is necessary for him to realize that a life without passion would be empty and just as painful as life being cast out of society.

The great thing about this book is that within the course of romance, Simon and Juliana grow as characters to the extent that their character arcs cross each other and kind of flip as Simon races toward more scandal and Juliana tries to embrace more propriety. The rigidity of both their positions is highlighted and you see the flaws in both their positions. Juliana learns that one can’t be ruled by passion at all times and Simon learns that rigidity of moral position is no comfort at night.

There was such respect in this book for the reader. I felt like this is one of those books carefully layered where each scene, each word has meaning and I could re-read it a dozen times and still discover new things in the story. It’s an A book for me.

Best,

Jane

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By February I had heard enough people mention how eagerly they were awaiting the sequel to your first novel, 2007's The Name of the Wind, that I was intrigued and decided to pick up the first book in the series.

The Name of the Wind begins this way: "It was night again. [...]]]> Dear Mr. Rothfuss,

By February I had heard enough people mention how eagerly they were awaiting the sequel to your first novel, 2007's The Name of the Wind, that I was intrigued and decided to pick up the first book in the series.

The Name of the Wind begins this way: "It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts." The following paragraphs go on to describe all three parts of the silence. The first is "a hollow, echoing quiet," the second the silence of two customers at the bar who "drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news." But it's the third silence that is most unsettling, the silence of a red-haired man polishing the bar. It was, the third person omniscient narrator tells us, "the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die. "

The red-haired man is an innkeeper who goes by the name of Kote, but he is also more than an innkeeper, and more than Kote. When a terrifying, spider-like being nearly kills one of the inn's few customers, Kote is the only one who knows what to watch out for and what to do.

Later, a man referred to as Chronicler comes to the inn, and Kote admits to Chronicler that he is Kvothe (pronounced like the word "quothe"), a famous, heroic figure now in hiding. But Kvothe doesn't see himself as others see him, and only agrees to tell Chronicler his story if Chronicler will stay at the Waystone for three days and record Kvothe's tale word for word, without altering anything.

Kvothe's story, told to Chronicler in first person, begins when Kvothe is eleven. Kvothe is one of the Edema Ruh, a highly-regarded troupe of actors and other performers. From his father Kvothe begins to soak up acting and music. From his mother, a noblewoman who left her family to be with his father, Kvothe learns etiquette.

One day the troupe takes in Abenthy, an arcanist (magic user) who helps them with lighting and special effects. Abenthy, or Ben as Kvothe calls him, was educated at the University and teaches Kvothe much of what he knows, including Sympathy, a system of magic that helps Kvothe redirect energy from one object to another. But what Kvothe most wants to learn is how Ben did something Kvothe once saw him do — call the wind so that the wind came and did Ben's bidding.

Ben refuses to teach Kvothe the name of the wind, but he does tell Kvothe's parents that Kvothe is a child prodigy, able to absorb nearly any skill with almost no mistakes. He will be the best at whatever he chooses to be, Ben informs them, so they should think carefully about what opportunities to give their son. Kvothe overhears this conversation and dreams of attending the University, but at age eleven, he does not know what lies ahead of him.

The troupe parts from Ben around the time Kvothe turns twelve, and on that occasion, Kvothe's father performs the first verse of a song he is working on. It is a song about the Chandrian, a group of legendary demons. Kvothe's father is collecting legends about them because he wants to write the definitive song, the one that hearkens back to the root of these legends.

The Chandrian are believed to be nothing more than a superstition, but one night Kvothe returns from gathering firewood to find his entire troupe dead, and the surrounding fires burning blue, a sign of the mythical Chandrian's presence. And indeed, the Chandrian are in front of him for a few moments, before they disappear.

Kvothe is left grieving and utterly alone in the world at age twelve. He forages in the forest and teaches himself to play his father's lute even better. A fateful trip to the nearby city of Tarbean in order to replace a lute string turns Kvothe into an urchin. He lives on Tarbean's streets for three years, until something reopens the memories he has shut away. Memories of his parents and of the Chandrian, of his dreams of attending the University and acquiring knowledge.

Eventually fifteen year old Kvothe arrives at the University and it is here that he makes dear friends and dangerous enemies, here that he learns greater magic, and here that he falls in love. He also cannot let go of his need to get to the bottom of the truth about the beings who killed his parents, even though it places him at great risk.

I enjoyed The Name of the Wind a great deal. One of the things I really appreciated was the device of having Kvothe's tale told by his older self, and the occasional interludes which allow us to see Kvothe in a different place in his life, and to sense danger lurking around the Waystone Inn.

This story-within-a-story structure, known in literary terms as a frame device, gave the book extra richness due to the age gap between the teenage Kvothe and the more mature and weary Kvothe who was telling the story. We got both the younger Kvothe's viewpoint and the perspective of his older, wiser self, who knows things the teenage Kvothe does not.

Alternated with these viewpoints is the third person narration of the frame story, so even though the book is mostly written in first person, there is more variety of voice, perspective and texture than in many first person books.

Still, and although we meet his family, his friends and the woman he loved, there is no question that the focus of the novel is Kvothe himself, and one of the things that kept me reading was the desire to see how he had evolved from the boy he had been to the man telling the story of his youth. Another was Kvothe's voice – witty, opinionated, and as a boy, often unwise.

I think that Kvothe could fairly be described as a Marty Stu (male equivalent of a Mary Sue) character because he is not only a child prodigy, but by age fifteen he is endowed with so many gifts – near perfect recall, a quick and strategic mind, lively curiosity, a talent for verbal sparring, a gorgeous voice and a breathtaking musicianship with the lute, to say nothing of his command of magic.

Normally so many talents in one character would be a sure way to turn me off, so Kvothe's saving grace is his propensity to making big mistakes. He takes chances that most people would not, and while some of them pay off, others land him in trouble. It is this quality, along with his witty opinions, and his vulnerability, that make the younger Kvothe so engaging and make it possible to believe in his genius.

There when many times during the reading of this book that I found myself thinking, "No Kvothe, no! Don't do it!" And he went ahead and did whatever impulsive, courageous yet unwise thing it was I wished he wouldn't do. I see my desire to spare Kvothe from pain and punishments as a sign of my huge investment in this character and his fate. His failings made him real and endearing to me.

One of other endearing things about Kvothe is that he judges people based on their behavior rather than their social status, and doesn't see himself as particularly better than anyone else. He is willing to do some shady things on occasion, but there are other moral lines which he would never in a million years cross. There is a great exchange between Kvothe and Ambrose, the university student who later becomes his nemesis.

Kvothe walks into the University's Archives to see Ambrose and a female student, Fela, at the front desk. Ambrose is sexually harassing Fela, but his family is so powerful that she can't protest, and Kvothe cannot bear to stand by and do nothing. He sees Ambrose's attempt at a poem on the desk, and sets about rescuing Fela by eviscerating Ambrose's writing.

Ambrose looked over his shoulder, scowling. "You have damnable timing, E'lir. Come back later." He turned away again, dismissing me.

I snorted and leaned over the desk, craning my neck to look at the sheet of paper he'd left lying there. "I have damnable timing? Please, you have thirteen syllables in a line here." I tapped a finger onto the page. "It's not iambic either. I don't know if it's anything metrical at all."

He turned to look at me again, his expression irritated. "Mind your tongue, E'lir. The day I come to you for help with poetry is the day–"

"- is the day you have two hours to spare," I said. "Two long hours, and that's just for getting started. "So same can the humble thrush well know its north?' I mean, I don't even know how to begin to criticize that. It practically mocks itself."

"What do you know of poetry?" Ambrose said without bothering to turn around.

"I know a limping verse when I hear it," I said. "But this isn't even limping. A limp has rhythm. This is more like someone falling down a set of stairs. Uneven stairs. With a midden at the bottom."

"It is a sprung rhythm," he said, his voice stiff and offended. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Sprung?" I burst out with an incredulous laugh. "I understand that if I saw a horse with a leg this badly "sprung,' I'd kill it out of mercy, then burn its poor corpse for fear the local dogs might gnaw on it and die."

How can you not love a character like Kvothe? I couldn't help loving him. A lot of the charm of this book is Kvothe's charm, his indelible appeal, as well as the human scale of his personal story. If he isn't the hero others think he is, he is still more heroic than he gives himself credit for.

The Name of the Wind clocks in at 726 Kindle pages, or 13,459 locations. That is one long book, a huge investment of time, especially when you consider that it is only the first of the three parts of Kvothe's story. The early parts of the book, especially the beginning at the Waystone Inn and then the time Kvothe spends on the streets of Tarbean, dragged a little for me. But the vast majority of the book was greatly involving and entertaining, and there was an artistry to the narration and the dialogue that makes this book stand out among many others.

Even though I'm not usually one to embark on such long tomes, much less series that follow the same protagonists, I find myself anticipating book two. As for The Name of the Wind, it is a terrific novel and one I can easily see myself rereading. A-/A.

Sincerely,

Janine

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