A Week to Be Wicked by Tessa Dare

Grade: B+

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Dare,

As I read A Week to Be Wicked, I kept thinking about Cyndi Lauper’s assertion “Girls just want to have fun.” The heroine of this book, Minerva Highwood, prior to hitting the road with your hero, Lord Colin Payne, really hasn’t had much fun. She certainly hasn’t had any fun where men are concerned. As her mother writes in a letter to cousin—her rather awful mother  actually dictates it to Minerva to write—

Minerva? Plain, bookish, distracted, awkward with gentlemen. In a word, hopeless.

Minerva’s a spectacle-wearing bluestocking. She’s always reading and is beyond fascinated by fossils she’s found in the caves of her home, Spindle Cove. She’s never been kissed, never fallen in love, never let herself go wild, and, when she does allow herself to dream, she dreams of having her geological research taken seriously by Britain’s (all male) geologists. She’s certainly never done anything truly outrageous until the night she marches up to Colin Payne’s door in the middle of the night. Minerva believes Colin plans to propose to her gorgeous older sister Diana and Minerva is dead set against such a union. Minerva is sure Colin is only marrying Diana in order to inherit his fortune—which he can’t get until his next birthday or until he weds. She’s also sure Colin, who is known as a rake of the first order (he’s famous for having a woman in his bed every night), isn’t good enough for her sweet sister. So, armed with the determination she’s known for, she bangs on his door and demands he speak with her. He opens it half-dressed and surveys her.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “this is hardly the first time I’ve answered the door in the middle of night and found a woman waiting on the other side. But you’re certainly the least expected one yet.” He sent her lower half an assessing look.

“And the most muddy.”

She ruefully surveyed her mud- caked boots and bedraggled hem. A midnight seductress she was not. “This isn’t that kind of visit.”

“Give me a moment to absorb the disappointment.”

“I’d rather give you a moment to dress.”

Minerva would like for Colin to dress because she finds him alarmingly alluring. And, when around alluring men—and Colin is the most alluring she’s ever met–Minerva’s big brain turns to mush.

Minerva considered herself a reasonably intelligent person, but good heavens

. . . handsome men made her stupid. She grew so flustered around them, never knew where to look or what to say. The reply meant to be witty and clever would come out sounding bitter or lame.

Sometimes a teasing remark from Lord Payne’s quarter quelled her into dumb silence altogether.

Only days later, while she was banging away at a cliff face with a rock hammer, would the perfect retort spring to mind.

Remarkable. The longer she stared at him now, the more she could actually feel her intelligence waning.

Colin doesn’t dress and Minerva, helped along by a bit of wine, asks Colin to marry her instead or, rather, to make it look as though he’s eloped with her. She asks him to accompany her to the upcoming Royal Geological Society of Scotland’s annual meeting in Edinburgh where she plans to present her fossil findings which are so extraordinary she is sure she will win the five hundred guinea prize for the best presentation. She promises Colin her prize money if he comes with her. Colin thinks hers is an exceedingly bad plan. Not only will it ruin Minerva’s chances of ever marrying—the trip entails two unchaperoned weeks in his company—but it goes against his own personal code of ethics. He tells her,

“I’m a lover of women, yes.” Then he lifted his empty hand. “And yes, I seem to break everything I touch. But thus far I’ve succeeded in keeping the two proclivities separate, you see. I sleep with women and I ruin things, but I’ve never yet ruined an innocent woman.”

Colin says no that night but, over the next few days, his determination wavers. Minerva takes him to see her fossil—it’s a dinosaur footprint–, the two talk, end up sharing quite a kiss, and, despite his conviction the trip is a disastrous idea, early one morning, he and Minerva are on their way on what turns out to be one very fun road trip.

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Breakaway by Deidre Martin

Grade:  C-

passion rating: warm

Many a romance novel features an adorable small town, filled with people and places a reader might love to experience. Ballycraig, Ireland, the fictional setting of Ms. Martin’s latest New York Blades series, is not such a place. The people there, in general, are economically struggling, tend to drink too much, make self-destructive decisions, and are routinely nasty to each other. The town has little charm. I, like the heroine of Breakaway, Erin O’Brien, wanted to get out of there as soon as I possibly could.

Erin has lived her entire life in Ballycraig. She once had plans to leave, plans that fell apart when Rory Brady, the love of her life — they began dating when she was fourteen — broke his promise to marry her and bring her to New York City where he plays for the NHL. Rory smashed Erin’s heart so thoroughly it took her two years to recover. Even now, she, and the entire town, hates Rory Brady for dumping her. Now Erin is stuck working night and day for her demanding mother at their family’s B and B, and is determined to leave Ballycraig on her own. She’s been finishing up her degree — on-line — in art history, and as soon as she can, she’s moving to a city somewhere in Ireland, getting a job, and finally seeing the world.

Rory Brady, on the other hand, has just returned to Ballycraig after four years. He’s realized breaking up with Erin was the biggest mistake he ever made and he’s determined to win her back. He loves his life as a NHL star — he’s the only Irish-born player in the league — and he’s proud of all he’s accomplished. But, he believes there’s “a difference between achievement and contentment.” He won’t be content, won’t have all the success he wants, until he’s got Erin back and she agrees to be his wife.

I haven’t read the other books in the series, and as best I could tell, that didn’t matter. This is a stand-alone story, has nothing to do with hockey, and didn’t seem to have any parts that needed a back-story to make sense. Several of the books have been positively reviewed at All About Romance; I’d hoped this too would be a good read. It wasn’t. It was, to steal a phrase from the book, “feckin rubbish.”

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At Your Pleasure by Meredith Duran

Grade: A-

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Duran—

As I read At Your Pleasure, I wondered if you will ever write a book I dislike. It seems unlikely. I love three of the books you’ve written and the two I don’t love—A Lady’s Lesson in Scandal and Wicked Becomes You—I like tremendously. I am enamored of your use of language, your deftness of plots, the complexity of your lovers’ relationships, and the crackling chemistry in your love scenes. In short, I am a big fan.

So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone I think At Your Pleasure is a very good book. Its hero, Adrian, might be my favorite of all your heroes—although I am terribly partial to Phin (from Written on Your Skin) and Julian (from The Duke of Shadows.) The historical context of the novel, the year 1715, a year after the coronation of the Hanoverian King George, is an unusual and fascinating one. So often the conflict between lovers centers around class but in this book, the line that divides Adrian and Nora, the heroine, is that of religion.

In 1715, in England, Catholics, even Catholic aristocrats, lived under restrictive laws. There were limits on the right to own and inherit property. Catholics paid special taxes, couldn’t have their children educated in Catholic schools, worship openly, or vote. The Settlement Act of 1701 forbad any Catholic or anyone married to a Catholic from sitting on the throne. At the same time, a significant number of the Tory peerage, most of whom were not Catholic, wanted to see a Scottish Catholic, James Stuart, on the throne rather than the current king, German born George I. It was a fraught time rife with tenuous political alliances.

Your heroine, Nora, the widowed Marchioness of Towe, is a Colville and her family is fiercely Tory. The Colvilles have been punished for their abiding loyalty to the Stuart King. Her father, now stripped of his titles and most of his wealth and property, is hiding out in France, plotting with those who would overthrow the current king. Her brother, David, is on the run, hiding in France and then in England, determined, at any cost, to implement his father’s dreams. Nora is the only one of her family living openly in England, in the family seat of Hodderby. Nora doesn’t necessarily share the sentiments of the men in her family but she is deeply loyal to her brother and will do whatever he asks of her, no matter how much it risks her happiness and/or safety. One of the most deadly things David has done is fill the wine casks in the cellars of Hodderby with volatile gunpowder which he plans to use in the upcoming Jacobite rebellion. Nora can tell no one of her brother’s plans—he’s a traitor to the crown—and she lives each day in trepidation, afraid the goals of her father and brother will destroy not only her, but Hodderby which she alone loves.

One night, as Nora readies for bed, a party of riders from the King arrives, led by Adrian Ferrers, the Earl of Rivenham. Rivenham, a favored Whig advisor to King George, carries a Writ of Parliament allowing him and his men unfettered access to Hodderby. Adrian has the right to stay as long as he pleases, command all who live there, and search the house freely. His ultimate goal is to flush out David Colville who will then be taken to the Tower and tried for his traitorous crimes. Adrian Ferrers loathes David Colville for more than just the latter’s politics. Adrian still feels the wound on his shoulder given to him, eight years ago, by David on the night David almost killed Adrian for the crime of loving Nora.

Nora, David, and Adrian grew up together—Rivenham land abuts that of the Colvilles. The Rivenhams, however, are a Catholic family and the Colvilles are of the Church of England. Adrian and Nora fell in love when they were young and both paid a terrible price for doing so. Adrian was beaten within an inch of his life by David, and shipped, by his family, to France to escape the wrath of the then powerful Colvilles. Nora was forced by her family to marry a cruel man in order to cover up her affair with Adrian. Adrian, when he returned to from France to England, was determined, at all costs, to protect his family from the sort of violence inflicted upon him by the Colvilles and their like. He renounced Catholicism, and used his charm, intellect, and will to become a powerful man in the English Court. His Catholic background makes him a target of many in the Court—if Adrian captures David, a Tory Jacobite traitor, and sees him hung, Adrian will augment his political power in the Court.

Nora is devastated to encounter Adrian again. For years, after she was married and he’d returned to England, she would see him at Court, and he never once spoke to her. She believes he hates her and, when she realizes he’s come to Hodderby to destroy her family, she tells herself she hates him too. When Adrian installs himself at Hodderby, he initially treats her cruelly, and she, terrified he will discover all she is doing for her brother, responds with defiance. Adrian is sure Nora knows the whereabouts of David and he pushes her hard, even torturing her with sleep deprivation. As the days pass, though, and Nora and Adrian begin to talk about their past which is full of tragedy and unshared secrets, their relationship shifts. They wend their way from enmity to something else, full of danger and desire. There seems no possible way they could ever find happiness together and yet, the longer Adrian is at Hodderby, the more he and Nora are drawn to one another.

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Abigail Jones by Grace Callaway

Grade: D

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Callaway:

I was bemused and not particularly enchanted by your gothic paranormal novel Abigail Jones. Everything about it, from the demented sex-starved demonesses to the enormity of your hero’s penis, was over the top. Very little about the heroine, her plight, the hero, his predicament, or the eye-popping plot called to me to. Ultimately, I found the story silly and, despite the many erotic scenes, unsexy and unromantic.

You open the book with a poem by the famous Pre-Raphaelite painter and poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it is told

(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)

That, ere the snake’s, her sweet tongue could deceive,

And her enchanted hair was the first gold.

And still she sits, young while the earth is old,

And, subtly of herself contemplative,

Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,

Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

The rose and poppy are her flower; for where

Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent

And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?

Lo! as that youth’s eyes burned at thine, so went

Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent

And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The poem has a literal significance to your tale: the villain of this gothic romance is the Lilith, first wife of Adam, Mother of the Demons, and Queen of the Night. As the hero, Hux, explains:

According to ancient Semitic scriptures, she was created by God as the first wife for Adam. Though her beauty was unparalleled, she was querulous and headstrong. When she refused to take a subservient role, Adam complained to God. God gave him another wife, Eve, and Adam cast Lilith aside. Enraged, Lilith set the earth aflame and fled amidst the smoke of burning poppies. She has ruled the darkness ever since.

She’s done nothing but become more evil over the centuries and now, at the height of Victoria’s rule, Hux says, the Mother of Demons has a horrific goal.

Lilith is building an army, and when her power is great enough, she plans to overtake our world. To create her own empire of everlasting hell.

Our hero, Lord Lucien Langsford, Earl Huxton (Hux to his—none of which exist in this book—friends), has been tasked with defeating Lilith. He has this burden because when Hux was young, he was blamelessly responsible for a horrible injury to his brother John who subsequently took his own life. Years later, while living in Italy, Hux met a woman. He describes the encounter to Abigail:

“Her name was Isabella Del Blanco. We met at a masquerade in Florence. She was the young widow of a wealthy merchant and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I still remember the dress she wore that night: layers of white and gold that floated around her. I thought her an angel descended into our midst.”

He was looking at me, but his eyes had that distant focus again. I knew he was seeing his wife as he had that first time. Reliving that moment forever imprinted upon his memory.

“I had to know her. But she was surrounded by admirers, and I—so used to the attention of the fair sex—I could not get her to notice me. So I bided my time. I waited until I saw her slip out to a balcony, and I followed her there. I pressed for an introduction. But it turned out she knew me already—she had heard of my exploits from her friends, she said, and she wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?” I could not help but ask.

A dull flush spread over his cheekbones. “About my … stamina. ‘Twas a trifling matter grossly exaggerated.” He cleared his throat. “At any rate, she seduced me that night. Then and there, on the balcony overlooking a piazza brimming with revelers, she took me as no woman ever had. I had thought myself experienced in carnal arts, but she overwhelmed me completely—with her beauty, her lack of restraint. I had never felt this way with another woman. The next morning, I asked her to marry me. Within a week, we were wed by special license.”

Isabella turned out to actually be Lilith and, after making Hux’s life a torment and murdering their son, she abandoned him. Hux, unable to overcome his grief over his son’s death, was about to hurl himself out the nursery window when he was visited by another paranormal creature, this one on the side of good, Michael, Captain of the Army of Light. Michael told Hux that if Hux could defeat Lilith and her slutty offspring, the Lilin,

God would pardon my brother’s sin and let John be at rest at last. Michael gave me a blessed sword and knowledge of the words and ritual to cast a demonic force from its humanly shell.

This back-story is too bent for me. First of all, the idea that Hux is so good in bed—it’s already been established he’s hung like an elephant—that the Queen of the Night finds him just to try out his goodies, sticks around to make him miserable, gets pregnant with his son, and then suffering a post-partum depression caused by the fact she really wanted a girl, kills the kid and dumps Hux all seems beyond far-fetched to me. Add to that, a mystical messenger from a mean God—Hux, who is completely innocent in his brother’s suicide, has to take on the Biggest Bad because God is keeping John is some sort of nasty purgatory and he won’t let him out unless Hux rids the world of Evil—and a bunch of hell-bitch women who are horrifically horny and trying to destroy the world one cock at a time and you have a story so lacking in credibility, it’s ridiculous.

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Wedded in Scandal by Jade Lee

Grade: B-

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Lee,

I fell head over heels in love with your hero in the very first few paragraphs of your novel, Wedded in Scandal.

“Yer wants to go in there? But, er, why?”

Robert Percy, Viscount Redhill, ignored the mine manager and began stripping off his coat and gloves. They were in the shack outside a coal mine that his father had purchased in a fit of drunken entrepreneurship. Sadly, the earl didn’t fall down in his cups like a normal person. No, instead he bought businesses, which Robert then had to save. And given that no one in his family knew anything about coal mining, this was going to be a challenge indeed.

But the first step in a new venture—or after one of his father’s drinking binges—was to inspect the new property. So he was determined to go down into the hellhole of a mine despite Mr. Hutchins’s objections. He’d already pulled off his coat and folded it neatly to the side, but after one glance outside at the filthy employees all lined up near the mine entrance, he stripped off his waistcoat as well. He would have taken off his fine lawn shirt, but he couldn’t greet his new employees half naked.

However, by the end of the second chapter, I no longer thought he was a paragon of male perfection. By the end of Chapter Two, I thought he was a pompous prick. I was wrong both times—Robert isn’t a jerk, although he does tend to arrogantly overwhelm most everyone he encounters, nor is he a dreamboat peer. By the end of the book, I liked him and understood why the heroine, Helaine Talbott, not only fell but stayed head over heels in love with him.

Helaine has had a difficult past decade. When she was in her teens, her father, a drinker and a cheat, stole a case of fabulous brandy the Earl of Bedford had sent as a gift to his son, a soldier finding for England in Spain—Helaine’s father, the Earl of Chelmorton, had a drinking buddy in charge of certain military shipments to Spain and he somehow used information from his friend to nab the booze. Helaine’s dad, immoral and stupid, then threw a party and carelessly bragged about the brandy’s provenance. The Earl of Bedford, an unforgiving type, retaliated by socially destroying Helaine’s father, now known as the Thief of the Ton. Her father subsequently vanished and, within a few short months, Helaine and her mother were tossed out of the ton, and found themselves in the poorhouse. Helaine’s now business partner, a seamstress named Wendy (there’s a mystery there that’s never explained) bailed Helaine and her mother out of the poorhouse and suggested that Helaine and she—Wendy—open a dressmaking business together. Thrilled at a chance for survival, Helaine said yes. For years, Helaine has supported herself and her mother but, each day, Helaine worries the shop could fail and she and her mother will be again without resources. As a dressmaker and shop owner, Helaine has completely left her aristocratic past behind; in fact she keeps her past rank a secret, sure the ton wouldn’t buy clothes made, no matter how well, by the daughter of the Thief of the Ton. She uses the name Helen Mortimer and presents herself to clients as a lowly tradeswoman.

Helaine has one aristocratic client—the rest of her patrons are from the business class—the soon to be married Lady Gwendolyn, Robert’s sister. Gwen wants Helen to make Gwen’s trousseau—Helaine is really good at what she does. This would be marvelous for Helaine if she, Helaine, could convince merchants to let her buy fabrics and the like on credit which they, given that she’s a woman of no means, adamantly will not. Gwen, like all aristos, is used to buying on credit and so Helaine is stuck—she needs to make gorgeous creations for Gwen, but she can’t afford the fabrics she needs to do so. Desperate for funds, Helaine calls on Robert and asks if he will pay Gwen’s bills. Helaine tries to convince Robert the bills are for dresses already made, but he calls her bluff. Even worse, he accuses her of extortion, and readies to call the constable. Helaine implores him not to and tells him the truth, and he, still unwilling to pay her, says the best he can do is give Gwen control over her clothing funds and she, Gwen, can decide whether to pay Helaine. As the two bargain, Robert becomes enamored of the buxom, attractive Mrs. Mortimer. So much so, that, later the same day, he goes to Helaine’s shop with the intent of asking her to become his mistress.

Once there, he gets her alone and kisses her—she’s twenty-eight but knows nothing of passion. It’s a damn good kiss in part because

Nearly a decade ago, his uncle had taught him how to seduce a woman with just his tongue. It had been the most useful lesson any relative had ever given him.

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More Than One Night by Sarah Mayberry

Grade: B/B+

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Mayberry,

It’s always a delight to read your books. Your characters are interesting, multifaceted, (reasonably) ordinary men and women; your plots are touching without being tawdry; your love stories convincing and sexy. More Than One Night isn’t my favorite of your books—I had trouble with the heroine—but was an enjoyable novel and one I’d recommend to any contemporary romance reader.

Charlie (Charlotte) Long, is at 32, out of the Australian army after fourteen years, and ready to begin the rest of her life. On her first night of “freedom,” she and her friend Gina open a bottle of champagne and Gina toasts Charlie, saying,

“To the rest of your life. To having a home that’s all yours. To meeting a guy who doesn’t know how to field strip a Steyr F88 rifle and who isn’t going to ship out when things start getting good. And to never, ever having to wear khaki again.”

Gina’s been out of the army for a couple of years, has a good job, a sweet little house—Charlie is staying in her spare room—and loves civilian life. Charlie too is happy to move on and yet she’s anxious.

“She’d die before she admitted it to anyone, but rather than being excited by all the choices and possibilities that lay ahead of her, she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.”

She’s got a nice place to live, she’s building up a business as a web designer, she has a fabulous friend—we all need a Gina in our lives–, but she’s quietly terrified. She tells herself

Stop freaking out. You can do this. How hard can it be? You find an apartment. You buy some furniture. You start a life. It’s not rocket science. 

It only felt like it.

Charlie, despite having been a very successful communications engineer with the Royal Australia Corps of Sigs, doesn’t have a lot of confidence. Oh she knows there are things she does well—she’s organized, intelligent, and ethical—but she sees herself as ordinary, plain old Charlie. And when I say plain, I mean unattractive, unsexy, and, in general, uninteresting to men. She’s never been in love, most of her sexual encounters have been awkward, her mirror is not her friend. Gina’s told her she’s crazy, that Charlie is lovely. But Charlie can’t believe it—really, Charlie won’t believe it. She’s sure she’s, to use a phrase from my grandmother, not much to look at.

On Charlie’s first night back, Gina gets the chance to prove Charlie wrong. Charlie and Gina have made plans to go to one of Sydney’s hottest restaurants but Charlie, whose luggage is missing, has none of her own clothes to wear. Gina talks Charlie into borrowing an outfit of Gina’s—a mesh halter and a pair of skin-tight stretch satin black pants. Charlie squeezes into the outfit, puts on some sexy makeup, and, once at the bar, is astonished to see guy after guy checking her out. She’s so stunned, in fact, she stumbles down a stair and spills a glass of red wine all over the white-shirted chest of an absolutely gorgeous guy. When she tries to apologize, he–Rhys Walker–tells her if she lets him buy her a drink, he’ll call it even. She can barely believe this beautiful man is flirting with her—which he very clearly is—and, after finishing her meal with Gina, Charlie decides to go for it. Usually Charlie listens to the voice in her head that tells her she’s just good, old, plain Charlie.

The voice was probably right. It had saved her from making a lot of bad decisions in her life, that voice. But she didn’t want to listen tonight. She wanted more of the feeling she’d experienced when she’d caught Rhys tracking her every move with his dark, heated gaze. For that precious handful of seconds she had felt powerful and knowing and invincible and incredibly sexy.

It might be an illusion—maybe even a delusion—but she wanted more of it. Even if it meant she was setting herself up to fail spectacularly.

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the AAR staff picks the best of non-romance from 2011

While it’s true that we here at AAR read, with love, romance novels, many of us also read and enjoy books outside the genre. I asked my fellow reviewers to pick their favorite non-romance book or books from 2011. Mysteries were the first choice—seven of the fourteen books were from that genre. Two chose the same book: Tina Fey’s bestselling Bossypants.

Here are their picks:

Blythe confessed her favorite this year was Stephen King's 11/22/63. She called it an “Absolutely fabulous book - it was happy, sad, funny, romantic, and thought-provoking. I can't stop recommending it to people.” In her review, she wrote “You might think from the title and the cover that this book is about the Kennedy assassination. It is, and it isn’t. It’s about time travel and all the big “what ifs,” but it’s also about a Maine English teacher who travels back in time and falls in love in small town Texas. That wasn’t at all what I was expecting, but it was a lovely surprise.”

The book chosen by Bessie, Swamplandia! a debut novel by Karen Russell, is described by Booklist as “Ravishing, elegiac, funny, and brilliantly inquisitive, Russell’s archetypal swamp saga tells a mystical yet rooted tale of three innocents who come of age through trials of water, fire, and air.” The book made many a “Best” list in 2011.

The one book picked more than once—by both SandyAAR and Jean Wan—was Tina Fey's Bossypants. Jean wrote: I thought it was absolutely hilarious and a masterpiece in how a little goes a very long way.” Ms. Fey’s novel has been a huge commercial success: it’s sold well over a million copies in the United States alone.

Reviewer Jane Granville had a hard time choosing any books from 2011. She wrote, “The two books that first came to mind -- Room by Emma Donahue and Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins -- were both 2010 releases. Does it count if the paperback was first published in 2011?” Many readers know the Collins books but maybe less familiar with Room, a much lauded novel about which the New York Times Book Review wrote “Emma Donoghue’s remarkable new novel, “Room,” is built on two intense constraints: the limited point of view of the narrator, a 5-year-old boy named Jack; and the confines of Jack’s physical world, an 11-by-11-foot room where he lives with his mother.”

Pat H chose a relatively unknown book, But Remember Their Names by Hillary Bell Locke (obviously a pseudonym!). Pat wrote, “It's a mystery about a neophyte lawyer who defends a teenage girl in a murder case. It's a smart, funny, insightful look at the legal system. Brilliant!”

LinnieGayle also picked from the mystery genre. She picked two. The first was Jacqueline Winspear’s A Lesson in Secrets. She wrote, “This 2011 entry in the Maisie Dobbs series began to move the series forward into the pre- World War II era. While there wasn't any real development in her relationship with James, I enjoyed the college setting of this book and also liked the direction Maisie's life seems to be taking. I definitely look forward to reading the next in the series. A close second for me would be Alan Bradley's I am Half-Sick of Shadows, his latest Flavia de Luce mystery. I remain totally in love with this young girl sleuth and can hardly wait until the next in the series.”

Lee Brewer picked not a mystery but a spy thriller, Rip Tide by Stella Rimington. Lee wrote, “It's the latest in her series about MI-5 Officer Liz Carlyle. The author used to be the head of MI-5 so her knowledge of what really goes on with spies and such really adds to her stories.”

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bad guys, good sex, true love

my (current) favorite romantic suspense novels

Romantic suspense is an entertaining genre—in a great romantic suspense book, there’s a fabulous romance and a compelling mystery/suspense as well. It’s two for one! I prefer books that balance each of those pieces equally—I want there to be as much romance/sex as there is mystery/suspense. I added in the sex component, because, in general, that’s something I look for in romantic suspense. The vast majority are set in modern times and there’s just no reason the heroine and hero shouldn’t be able to get down and dirty whilst trying to trap the bad guys.

I’ve probably read somewhere between 100 and 150 romantic suspense novels in the past five years. Of those, this list comprises my favorite 25. I love Anne Stuart’s Ice series and much of Shannon McKenna’s McClouds and Friends series. I’m also a fan of Pamela Clare—her I-Team books have gripping suspense plots and her macho heroes can be hot as hell.  I put Heat in here because I’m not sure where else I’d put it. I don’t read paranormal and I see Heat as a paranormal romantic suspense. It’s my list and I can do what I want, right?

These are my current favorites, published between 1992 and today. This is a list that, as I read more romantic suspense, will grow and I will add to it as it does. Happy reading!

Anne Stuart	Black Ice
Anne Stuart	Cold as Ice
Anne Stuart	Ice Blue
Anne Stuart	Fire and Ice
Beth Kery	Sweet Restraint
Beth Kery	Explosive
Cynthia Eden	Deadly Heat
Linda Howard	Death Angel: A Novel
Lisa Marie Rice	Midnight Man
Lisa Marie Rice	Midnight Run
Nora Roberts	Honest Illusions
Pamela Clare	Hard Evidence
Pamela Clare	Unlawful Contact
Pamela Clare	Breaking Point
R. Lee Smith	Heat
Roxanne St. Claire	Edge of Sight
Shannon McKenna	Behind Closed Doors
Shannon McKenna	Extreme Danger
Shannon McKenna	Ultimate Weapon
Shannon McKenna	Blood and Fire
Susan Andersen	Be My Baby
Susan Sey	Money, Honey
Susan Sey	Money Shot
Suzanne Brockmann	The Unsung Hero
Toni Anderson	Sea of Suspicion

Forever and Day by Delilah Marvelle

Grade: C

passion rating: warm

The hero of Ms. Marvelle's latest is in the very first chapter in the book, crashed into by an omnibus on a busy New York street. When he wakes, he's an amnesiac, unable to remember anything about himself or his life. He can remember bits and pieces from what turns out to be his favorite book as a child, Robinson Crusoe, and takes the name of Defoe's protagonist as his own. Ms. Marvelle's Robinson's fate is joined, not to a man named for a day of the week, but with a woman named for a state: a Mrs. Georgia Wilder. I recall struggling to finish — at age 15 - Mr. Defoe's novel. Forever and a Day wasn't quite as taxing, but it, too, was a trial to read.

The book is divided into three sections and ends with an epilogue; all three core components were wearisome in different ways. The first part of the tale is downright baffling. As the novel begins, Georgia is hurrying home to her tenement in Five Points when she spots a fine looking gent walking her way. He's tall, dark-haired, handsome, and clearly very wealthy. She inadvertently stumbles into him and he immediately, politely, propositions her. Georgia, despite finding him quite the dish, declines. Their initial encounter is somewhat incomprehensible. He's quite insistent that she join him at his hotel for coffee and I hadn't any idea why. Ms. Marvelle doesn't describe Georgia in any detail other than to point out she's Irish, red-headed, and poor. I wondered what it was about her that so entranced this unnamed British toff. Then, suddenly and melodramatically, Georgia's purse is nicked by a pickpocket; her Brit - as she thinks of him - takes off after the thief, and while in pursuit, is run over by a bus. Georgia has him taken to a hospital - she feels responsible for his injury - where for nine days, he lies in a coma. When he wakes, he recalls nothing of his life before that moment. No one has claimed him and, unable to think of a better alternative, Georgia takes him home with her.


Within a day and a half of living with Georgia - and after having crude sex with her in the public hallway of her apartment building - Robinson, as he and Georgia have come to call him, is in love. He's not just in love, he's sure that nothing in life has ever been or could ever be as important to him as being with this woman he's just met while he’s suffering from a traumatic brain injury. Georgia, for her part, falls in love as well, but she's convinced such a dazzling, well-heeled, kindhearted, upper-class gentleman will, once he regains his memory and his life, leave the likes of her behind. Their few days together, supplemented with heaps of history about 1830s New York, comprises the first part of this book. At its end, Robinson has indeed reclaimed his memory, his father has come to claim him, and in a hurried and awkward ending, all parties involved must make painful choices. 


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Teach Me by Cassandra Dean

Grade: C

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Dean—

When you sent Dear Author a teaser for your novel Teach Me, you described it as an historical novel set in the early Victorian period. In describing the book, you wrote “romance will be the focus of the story with erotic elements. Sex and language will be hot, graphic and plentiful.” You weren’t joking about the sex. In fact, I wouldn’t describe your book as an historical romance; I’d call it erotica set in a very imaginary Victorian London.

Your heroine, Elizabeth, the Viscountess Rocksley, is at twenty-eight a very curious widow. She married young to a man she perhaps loved but never experienced passion with. (He was the stereotypical Victorian and would only make loved under the covers, clothed, quickly, and with no conversation.) The whole time Elizabeth was wed, she wondered if there wasn’t more pleasure to be had and, after her husband died and she finished her mourning period, she did have three discrete quickies at social events with a very nice rake whose hurried thrusting made her feel something stirring, although not quite thrilling. So, what does she do next? She asks around for the name of a brothel—this seemed ridiculous to me; a woman of her status could no more fish about for the name of a house of ill repute than discuss erotica at a dinner table (which Elizabeth does later in the book and doing so gets her in all sorts of trouble with her respectable social set). She contacts the madam of La Belle Jeune Fille Pieuse and requests an education in carnal pleasure. Elizabeth wishes to know sensual joy, to learn to give and receive it.

When Elizabeth goes to the bordello, she expects to encounter Mrs. Lydia Morcom, the madam. It’s never explained what sort of initial conversation Elizabeth had with Mrs. Morcom, but Elizabeth is expecting her training to be verbal and to be done by the madam. Instead, when she arrives for her first session, she’s met by an icy, gorgeous, arrogant peer, the utterly sexually depraved Earl of Malvern. Elizabeth, initially nonplused, quickly finds the idea of being educated by the Earl damn alluring. He tells her, after having her take off her cloak and checking out her body, that he is willing to teach her all she wants to know.

“I shall show you carnal pleasure, madam. As you say, both to receive and to give. However, pregnancy should be avoided at all costs.” His eyes flickered, the first sign of something resembling emotion crossing his face. “I will not marry you, no matter the circumstance.” Well, of course he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t wed him either. In any event, conception was not a concern for her, not after a marriage that had never yielded— Good Lord. He spoke of practical application. He spoke of touching and kissing and— Was it warmer in here of a sudden? He continued with barely a pause. “Actual penetration will be avoided. While many people extol the virtues of withdrawal, I remain unconvinced. We will discuss methods of contraception during your education, but the most effective method is always avoidance. You are in agreement?” Still confused but now with cheeks aflame, Elizabeth nodded. In all her life, no one had ever spoken so frankly. This, combined with his matter-of-fact manner and lack of emotion, banished any lingering apprehension and left only the excitement. Glorious, thrilling excitement.”

The two agree that Elizabeth will come to his townhouse—discretely of course—three days hence. Elizabeth leaves the brothel in a tizzy—she’s never been so turned on in her life—and James, the Earl, goes to ask Lydia, a woman he’s fucked many a time, why she decided to offer him the “mousy” little widow. Lydia says she thought her present would appeal to his “degenerate soul” and that, since she’s just gifted him, she’d like him to gift her with the reward of his cock which he, without much interest, does.

Three days later, Elizabeth finds herself in the Earl’s home, where the two go over the basics of their arrangement. They will meet twice weekly at five in the evening—this hour is somehow more discrete than other times. The Earl asks Elizabeth to detail her sexual history. She, who has never talked about sex with anyone, is unable to answer. So, because Elizabeth isn’t really mousy at all, she asks him instead to tell her his sexual history.

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To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield by Bronwen Evans

Grade: C-

passion rating: warm

Dear Ms. Evans,

I’ll begin this review with the last line of your novella, To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield.

He loved, with a consuming passion, the woman who’d dared the Duke of Dangerfield.

This line evokes a picture perfect happy ending for Harlow Telford, the Duke of Dangerfield, and Lady Caitlin Southall, the woman who dared him. It’s a fitting finish to your tale in which everything is so sweet, lovely, and darling that the book reads like a naughty version of a 1950’s Disney film. The story is an airy cliché, the characters overcome obstacles with unforced ease, each conflict is effortlessly resolved. It’s the literary version of a tiny, over-sweet cupcake; fun enough to take in, but too sugary and predictable to satisfy in any real way.

Catlin and Harlow share the same birthday (so adorable); he is thirty to her twenty-three. As the book opens, Caitlin, wearing trousers, is bent over her horse’s hoof, trying to free a stone caught there.

“If you’re going to point that delectable rump at a man you’re asking for trouble.”

Caitlin cursed under her breath and ignored the cultured baritone voice goading her from behind. She remained bent, focused on her task, and determined to clear the stone from her horse’s hoof. Still, irritation dribbled down her back. If she were a cat her hackles would have risen.

She knew who the voice belonged to. She’d heard the melodically ducal tones in church and the village store often enough. Harlow Telford, the Duke of Dangerfield, consummate rake and the most powerful man in the Kingdom next to the Prince Regent.

The man determined to see her father ruined.

(I considered whether or not a “consummate rake” would go weekly to church and sing in the choir and decided it seemed unlikely.  Harlow may be labeled a rake—the only proof of this is his catty mistress whom he dumps a day after spying Caitlin’s pants-clad derriere—but he’s really a Dudley Do-Right kind of guy. Every action he takes is fair, honorable, and just. He’s even sweet to his mom.)

Caitlin and Harlow live next door to one another although they haven’t seen each other for years. Recently, however,  Caitlin’s father’s, Earl of Bridgenorth, a sad sack of a man, staked her home Mansfield Manor, in a game of faro against Harlow who won it and now considers it his. Caitlin feels her father had no right to use the house as a marker—it belonged to her mother and, when her mother died, it passed to Caitlin. However, her mother made her father the trustee—a terrible mistake in that, once Bridgenorth lost the love of his life, he became a drinker and a gambler—and thus, legally, he was able to lose it to Harlow. Harlow loathes Bridgenorth because, fourteen years ago, after Caitlin’s mother died and her dad became a cad, Bridgenorth seduced and impregnated Harlow’s recently widowed mother. He then refused to marry Harlow’s mom who had a son, Jeremy, out of wedlock and both have socially suffered ever since. Harlow deliberately won Mansfeld Manor for Jeremy so that Jeremy will own the house he should have been raised in. Caitlin, however, knows none of this—in the never-real world of this novel, such a secret is easily kept from a 23 year old woman in living in a small Shropshire town.

Caitlin loves her home and is determined to hold on to it. So, the day after the trouser incident,  she sneaks next door to Harlow’s home at night where he is entertaining two friends, two whores, and his snippy mistress. Given that Caitlin is an unmarried woman, if it were known she visited Harlow’s home, Telford Court, at night and unchaperoned, she would be ruined. She goes anyway and asks Harlow to give her back her house. He instead offers her a chance to win back her home. She agrees and suggests a horse race—her horse Ace of Spades is the fastest around. He declines that offer and, after some negotiation, the two agree instead on three wagers—a horse race, a game of faro, and—I am not making this up—a cake-baking contest to be judged by the local vicar. If Caitlin wins two of the three, she gets back her home. If the Duke wins, he gets Caitlin in his bed. In some other book, this behavior would make Harlow an unscrupulous rake. But here, the minute Caitlin leaves, Harlow sends Larissa—the bitchy mistress back to London—and tells his friend Marcus he plans to marry “the chit.”

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