The Way to a Duke's Heart by Caroline Linden

Grade: C+

passion rating: warm

Dear Ms. Linden, 

I've read all three books in your The Truth about the Duke trilogy and never much cared about what happened to said peer, the (unchallenged) Duke of Durham. The guy seems like a heel. On his deathbed--and estranged from his eldest son, Charlie, the hero of The Way to a Duke's Heart--he confesses he (the dying dad) is a possible bigamist. Prior to tying the knot with his Duchess, the long dead mother of his three sons, he'd married and pretty much lost first interest in and then contact with another woman. The Duke shares his big secret because, in the months prior to leaving this mortal coil, he was being blackmailed by an unknown person threatening to expose this earlier union. His middle son, Edward (the hero of One Night in London, reviewed here by Jane), tells the wrong woman about their family troubles--dubbed the Durham Dilemma by the press--and Charlie and his brothers may be, depending on the truth about the Duke, branded as illegitimate and left without a titles, fortunes, and properties. 

  I was looking forward to this book; in both the first and second books in the series (the second, and my favorite, Blame it on Bath, is reviewed here by Janet) Charlie is the man. He's sexy, selfish, and clearly waiting for destiny to smack him upside the head. Charlie, like so many Regency-type rakes, suffers from evil dad/eldest son syndrome; he did not get enough love as a small child. His dad bullied him and was unreasonable; by the time Charlie became old enough to draw from the family's coffers, he tossed aside his father's expectations, ignored the call of his birthrate, and began bedding widows and wantons nightly. When his legacy is first challenged, Charlie, who refused to come to his father's deathbed, tells his brothers the Durham dilemma is NOT MY PROBLEM. However, after Edward and Gerard (bro #2) find connubial bliss they tell Charlie to step up to the plate: they're, um, busy. Even if his brothers weren't in shag heaven, they'd have a point. Charlie is the putative Duke and it is his title, now at risk, that most defines the family. Charlie, somewhat ambivalently, agrees at the end of Blame it on Bath to leave his hedonistic life in London and head off to discover their father's blackmailer. 

As The Way to a Duke's Heart begins, Charlie has come to Bath in search of one Hiram Scott whom Gerard has identified as the man who sent their father the loathsome letters. Charlie doesn't want to be there and the job he faces overwhelms him. His leg hurts from a drunken fall down the stairs and, to top it off, on his way into procuring the best suite in the best hotel in town, some chit muttered, loudly enough for all to hear, that he, the (hopefully) Duke of Durham, looked "indolent." Charlie checks into his suite, finally waves off the officious inn-keeper, and assesses the task before him.

He caught sight of the leather satchel on the writing desk across the room. In it were all the documents and correspondence from the investigators and the solicitors relating to that damned Durham Dilemma, as well as his father’s confessional letter. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at it. He’d forced himself to bring it all to Bath, but just thinking about it left him angry at his father, irked at his brothers, and deeply, privately, alarmed that his entire life now hung by a thread. If rumors in London—and Edward’s expensive solicitor—could be believed, Durham’s distant cousin Augustus was about to file a competing claim to the dukedom, alleging that Charlie could not prove he was the sole legitimate heir. If the House of Lords upheld that claim, the title and all its trappings would be lost—at best, held in abeyance until proof was found, or at worst, irrevocably awarded to Augustus. Either outcome would effectively ruin him. 

Charlie hoped to high heaven the answer to all their troubles could be found in Bath. And even more, he hoped he was capable of finding it before the House of Lords heard his petition. 

He let his head drop back against the chair and closed his eyes. How ironic that the first time anyone expected great things of him, the stakes were so high. Right now he didn’t want to think of anything beyond his dinner and the glass of wine in his hand. If the lady from downstairs could see him now, she would surely think him the most indolent, useless fellow on earth. 

A smile touched his lips, picturing her defiant expression when she realized he’d heard her disdainful remark. She was sorry he’d overheard, but not sorry at all for saying it. What a prudish bit of skirt. No doubt she had a collection of prayer books and doted on her brood of small dogs.

Charlie is, naturally, wrong about the woman who dismissed him. She's neither a prude nor does she dote on much of anything. Tessa Neville had her heart broken years ago by a lout and now is focused on managing her brother, Viscount Marchmont's, business affairs. She's a whiz with investments--numerical columns being so much more trustworthy than those of men--and has come to Somerset to investigate a possible investment: a canal partially owned and being aggressively marketed to her family by Hiram Scott. Tessa has a bad attitude and a chip on her shoulder--she just can't believe how closed-minded men are and don't get her started on the inability of women to vote! Frankly, she's pretty cranky and, for me, not in a good way. I wouldn't call her a bitch--she's no Scarlett O'Hara--but she lacks the ability, most of the time, to sit back and smell the sulfur. Just seeing the rakish Duke of Durham with his wicked smile, his lordly--but charming--manner, and his bodacious bod puts her in a bad mood. 

I liked him but not her. Tessa is, for her era, a thoroughly modern woman. That's cool. What's not so cool is that her asserted skill set--brilliant, able to discern waste from genuine want, savvy about where to park a pound or thousand--isn't displayed in her actions. She's bamboozled by Scott--he's trying to lure investors to a canal with a problem--and her people skills are poor. When the men--those who run the canal she's interested in--are forced to invite her to a "let us tell you what a deal we have for you while getting you drunk" dinner, Tessa is useless and is, in fact, rescued by Charlie who doesn't give a strut about the canal. Additionally, halfway through the tale, she--who has thus far lusted for Charlie within the constraints of her time--suddenly finds her inner-bad girl and behaves in ways that don't ring true for her.

Tessa is nice to her traveling companion, the always worried Eugenie, and she clearly cares for her brother and her bossy older sister. But this kindness in her didn't balance out her impatience with virtually everyone around her. I'm sure I'd be constantly pissed off if everyone treated me as lesser because I was female--I'm not saying she's not believable. She's just not very pleasant a lot of the time. And when she is pleasant, it's because she's lusting after Charlie or lustfully rolling around with Charlie. I'd have enjoyed her far more if she, on her own, was more engaging and less carping. 

Charlie, on the other hand, is a fetching hero. He, in the start of the series, is portrayed as a lazy, selfish cad. And, not only is that initially true, it's how he sees himself. But once his brothers force him to act and he heads to Bath to investigate Hiram Scott, Charlie changes. He begins to push himself to think, to work, and to sit around reading really dull parish registers. He initially checks out Tessa because he thinks she may be in cahoots with Hiram Scott, but once he realizes she's not, he puts a lovely sort of effort into figuring her out. He finds her intelligence and direct manner incomprehensibly alluring; the scenes where he works to help her are sexy and sweet. Here, he's just put bluebells Tessa picked into a vase for her. She's startled he'd do such a thing.

click here to read the rest of the review 

A Lady at Midnight by Tessa Dare

Grade: B- Sensuality: Hot I’ve had mixed reactions to Tessa Dare’s Spindle Cove series. The first book in the series, A Night to Surrender, did not enchant me as it did many other reviewers. I loved the next, A Week to be Wicked. I enjoyed this book more than the first one but less than the second. The reason for that, I think, is that I’m bored with heroes who proclaim, despite evidence to the contrary, they just aren’t good enough for the women they love. The lovers in A Lady by Midnight are kind as can be Kate Taylor, Spindle Cove’s resident orphan music teacher, and Corporal Samuel Thorne, he of the glower and glare. Kate, like most of the women who have found their way to Spindle Cove, doesn’t have a place in mainstream society. She was raised in the harsh Margate school for girls where she was deposited when she was five. She’s tried for years to learn something of her past — she’s written requests to countless English parish registers asking for information about a girl born between 1790 and 1792 named Katherine — but has never found from whence she came. She has memories — scraps of her past — locked away in her head but she can’t quite figure out what they mean. Kate loves the welcome she’s found at Spindle Cove and the town cares deeply for her as well. Kate is a lovely person — she sees the best in almost everyone and can coax a smile from all. All except the exceedingly dour Corporal Thorne. Thorne, who arrived in Spindle Cove a year ago when the militia arrived — that event is the plot of A Night to Surrender - seems utterly immune to Kate’s charm. Whenever he’s around her, he’s laconic to the point of rudeness and usually leaves any room she’s in. Kate thinks he’s an ass — a handsome ass, but an ass nonetheless. She changes her opinion of him, however, when one night when she finds herself stranded in the next town over, caught in the rain and with no money for a safe place to stay. Thorne not only saves her from a horse whipping but insists on giving her a ride back to Spindle Cove. The two share a conversation, a kiss, and Kate steals the puppy he’d gone to town to pick up. After that, Kate not only no longer thinks Thorne is a jerk, she finds herself drawn to him despite his assertions he wants nothing more to do with her. Thorne has a good reason for staying away from Kate. He thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, but not only does his checkered past make him “wrong” for her, he knows the truth about her past and it’s one he doesn’t want her to find out. Their story didn’t quite work for me. As I mentioned in the beginning of this review, I’ve grown tired of the “I love you, I spend all my time trying to ensure your safety, but I’m not good enough for you” hero. It’s been clear since the first book in the series Thorne is a stand-up guy, a leader, and a profoundly loyal friend. Kate is alone in the world; she thinks she’s unattractive because she has a port-wine stain on her brow—it seemed almost cruel to me for Thorne to continually rebuff her all in the name of his supposed worthlessness. I liked their repartee, their sparring over the puppy Kate appropriated, and the rough passion that sparks between them. I even liked them as individual characters. I lost patience however with the repetitiveness of Thorne’s “I’m just not good enough” self-abnegation. click here for the rest of the review

Five works by Serenity Woods

This review was originally published at DearAuthor.com

Seven Sexy Sins  

A few weeks ago, Ruthie Knox was raving about this book on Twitter so I decided to give it a whirl. I'm glad I did. Seven Sexy Sins is a bawdy, diverting read that skims the surface of real emotion just enough to make one care for its characters. Faith Hillman is, though only twenty-two, a successful writer for a New Zealand magazine and web-site. (Her column was recently voted "the best editorial on women’s matters in the southern hemisphere.") Her latest topic: spicing up women's sex life. As she explains it to her friends,

I’m going to call it ‘Seven Sexy Sins’. I’m going to base it on the seven original sins, with each one relating to a ‘sexy sin’. The idea is that your average housewife, who’s struggling in the bedroom, could show her partner the list and work through them with him.”

She's got a problem, though. Faith's only had two boyfriends in her life and both of them were fizzlers in the sack; she's never experienced the delights she wants to turn her readers on to. Her friends--her brother Dan, his girlfriend Eve, and Dan's two best friends Rusty and Toby--are shocked when Faith shares with them her sorry sexual history. Toby offers himself up as a test case, but it's clear he's not really serious--for starters Dan would kill him. However, Rusty, while giving Faith a ride home, says he thinks he's the answer to her problem. Faith is stunned.

She stared at him, her mouth falling open. “What are you saying, exactly?” “You need to do some research for your articles. And I’m happy to help.” “You want to help me research the seven sexy sins? Personally? Like, not in books?” “Absolutely. Sounds like great fun.” They studied each other for a moment. Eventually he gave a short laugh. “You needn’t look quite so shocked.” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you find me attractive?” She gave him a wry look. “Of course I do—you know you’re sex on legs. That’s hardly the point.”

Faith not only thinks Rusty's a hottie; she's jonesed for him ever since she met him. He kissed her on her 18th birthday and she'd hoped it might lead to something more, but Rusty never made another move--Dan had punched his lights out and warned him to stay far away from his little sis--and Faith has seen Rusty as off-limits ever since. When he offers up his gorgeous body for her use, Faith realizes she'd be crazy to say no and she doesn't. She does, however, take steps to protect her heart and her friendship with Rusty. She writes up a contract saying 1) there will be only seven sexual encounters between them (one for each sin), 2) no one is to know about their rendezvous, and 3) they will work to remain friends when their trysts are done. Rusty, amused but game, signs the contract and he and Faith become lovers. 

I liked so much about this novel. Seven Sexy Sins is one of the better friends to lovers tales I've read in a while. Rusty and Faith are close friends and their relationship means a great deal to them both. They also care deeply about the others in the circle; their group functions as family for them both. Rusty comes from a long line of abusive alcoholic losers whom he hates and works to distance himself from. Faith's and Dan's parents died in a car crash three years ago.  Faith and Rusty constantly weigh the benefits of their own actions--super hot sex, a lot of laughter, and a growing romantic attachment--against the possible damage those actions could do to the cohesion of their group. Everyone in the group is distinctly and compassionately rendered. Dan, in particular, though he comes across as an over-protective jerk at times, is sympathetically portrayed and shows himself to be the sort of big brother any woman would be lucky to have. I appreciated the tension between the joy Faith and Rusty found together and their fear it would ruin the most important relationships in their lives. 

The sex in this book is incinerating and well-written. I enjoyed both the pairing of the sins with the acts Faith picked and the enactment of those acts. (Envy=watching porn, Sloth=oral sex, Gluttony=sensual food applied all over, Pride=mutual strip-teases, Wrath=bondage complete with handcuffs, Greed=as many orgasms as they can fit in a day, Lust=quasi-tantric sex.) Each encounter--and the first few are endearingly awkward as Faith and Rusty figure out who they are as lovers--enriches the growing romance between the two. The more the two make love, the more the two become equals between the sheets--I loved watching Faith discover and revel in her sexual self with Rusty's unwavering support. Here, Faith experiences the joy of cunnilingus for the first time.

She rested her forehead on her arms. The sensations he was creating were incredible. He caressed her thighs and hips and brought a hand underneath to stroke her, parting her lips with his fingers to access the heart of her sensitivity. He slipped his fingers inside her, deep inside, his thumb joining his lips and tongue in teasing the responsive spot at the top so that she groaned and widened her hips, begging him to take her further. 

So he did, slowly, making it last as long as he could. He drew out her pleasure until in the end he was barely touching her, each little brush of his tongue, graze of his teeth or sucking of his lips making her teeter on the edge of the chasm, until eventually she pleaded for him to let her fall. And so he covered her sweet spot with his warm tongue, slid his fingers back inside her, and held her tightly across the thighs with his other arm as her orgasm exploded within her like fireworks. 

Rusty let her lift herself off him and collapse onto the bed. He looked across at the sliding doors to see the twilight settling, and watched a moth hover around the lamp outside, although it didn’t come in. There were no lights on, but the full moon that hung low in the sky like a Christmas bauble lit the room, and as he turned his head to look at Faith, he saw her skin glowing, luminescent like an oyster shell. She looked as if she were made of marble, each muscle delineated by light and shadow, like a Greek statue of a gracefully reclining woman, sculpted with a careful hand.

The only part of the book I found to be less-engaging is the barrier standing between Faith's and Rusty's long-term happiness. (It's not the dynamics of the group nor Dan's conviction his friends shouldn't have sex with his sister. Both of those issues are resolved in measured, interesting ways.) No, the real problem is that Rusty has convinced himself he can never marry and have kids because of his family's awful track record. Even he knows he's kinda nutty about this.

Part of him knew how ridiculous he was being. He loved women, and he’d never even spoken harshly to one, let alone mistreated any of his girlfriends. He wasn’t stupid—he knew there was no guarantee he’d react like his father or brother, even if he drank. He hoped he was a fair man, a kind one, a person who hated injustice and unfairness, who worked hard at his job, and who loved his friends. But the thought that Mr. Hyde might be lurking deep within him scared him enough to make him stay alone.

He is pretty stupid about this. As Dan says, when Rusty shares his fear, “You mean Rusty Thorne. One of my best mates. Secondary school teacher, steady job, reliable income. Honest, solid, trustworthy."  The strength of Rusty's belief in his possible fucked-up future is hard to understand given how smart he is about everything else. Everyone but Rusty can see he's the stuff happy families are made of; his repetitive adamant refusal to see himself as he really is frustrated me. 

That said, I liked Rusty and all his self-analysis. This is a book where the reader is given lots of insight into what the lovers are thinking. I often find this tiresome but, in Seven Sexy Sins, that depth of exploration worked.  I had a blast watching Faith and Rusty work through their list of sins and their internal issues. By the time they got to their happy ending, the only thing I really disliked was that the book was over! There was nothing for it but to read another Serenity Woods book... and another... and another. I ended up reading five in all and of the five, Seven Sexy Sins was my favorite. I give it a B+. 

Summer Fling 

My second favorite book by Ms. Woods was Summer Fling. Like all but one of the books of Ms. Woods I read, the story is set in New Zealand, this one in the Bay of Islands.  Summer Fling is really a novella, but it tells a fairly straight forward love story and I wasn't bothered by its brevity. The hero of this book, Garth Rowland, is an American now living in New Zealand, running a sky-diving business. Garth meets Chloe, a native New Zealander, when she, determined to prove she's not a wimp, signs up to jump out of one of his planes. It's clear from the story's opening lines, Garth finds Chloe quite enticing.

“I should be on top,” the willowy blonde protested. 

She sat on the bench in front of Garth with her back against his chest and her butt nestled between his thighs. 

He stifled a groan. What red-blooded male wouldn’t misconstrue that statement? His brain had been in sex mode since she’d pulled on her jumpsuit. She’d leaned forward and the neck of her T-shirt had gaped to reveal generous breasts only just covered by the cups of her lacy white bra. He’d fought hard to concentrate on her training, too rusty at flirting to make a comment, but now the image of her sitting naked on top of him returned in full force. 

He attached the last clip of his safety harness to the one on her right shoulder and chuckled in her ear. “That’s kind of forward, Chloe, considering we’ve only known each other for thirty minutes. But I’m not going to argue with you.”

Chloe is so terrified she's almost unable to make the jump but, just before she can pull away, Garth kisses her and the two of them plummet out of the plane. After the two land--safely--Garth asks Chloe to have a cup of coffee. The two talk about Chloe--she's a control freak because her mom's bi-polar and made Chloe's childhood an unstable hell--and Garth makes it clear he'd like to see her again, preferably naked. Chloe shuts him down.

“Garth, I’m not a thrill seeker. And I could never date a guy who was. I want stability and security in my life. I made a pledge to myself years ago that I wouldn’t turn into my mother, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

A week later, however, after running into each other again, they both agree to go to a beach party being thrown by a mutual friend. There the two talk some more--Garth tells Chloe about his tragic past (He was a journalist covering the war in Afghanistan, was imprisoned, escaped and came back to New Zealand to find his wife had left him for another man.)--and Chloe decides to take a risk after all. The two share a very steamy--in more ways than one--encounter in Garth's tent and, when the party's over, Chloe goes home with Garth. 

There are, of course, obstacles to their happy ending. Chloe is trying to open up her own chocolate shop--I learned lots about chocolate in this book which was fun--and Garth's vendetta against the man his wife left him for gets in the way of Chloe's dream. Even more importantly, Chloe--rather like Rusty--is determined to let her past limit her future. Her feelings for Garth scare the hell out of her and she is sure the best choice is to run away.

“It’s not because I don’t feel anything for you. It’s because I do. I shouldn’t be feeling these emotions, Garth—I’ve only known you a week. And I won’t give in to them and make wild declarations of love, only to find out in a week’s time that we’re totally wrong for each other. I won’t turn into my mother.” 

He gripped her wrists and moved her arms behind her back. She gasped. His mouth was grim, his lips inches from hers, his hazel eyes hot, intense, and for a moment she thought he was going to give into the raging emotion he was obviously feeling and kiss her anyway. Part of her wanted him to. To fight her, to take her anyway, because then it wouldn’t be her fault if it all went wrong. She was desperate to feel his mouth on hers, his hand on her breast, to have him inside her again. 

But he didn’t move. 

Instead, he released her. 

“This isn’t over. I’m telling you now.” She shivered at his possessiveness. “Don’t be like that.” 

“Like what?” He looked out the window for a moment. The muscles bunched at the corner of his jaw as if he’d clenched his teeth. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking back at her. “I guess we both have our demons that make it difficult for us to trust in love. And maybe we have to exorcise those demons before we’ll be able to make things work. I’ve got things I have to sort out, things to do with the past, and I don’t want you caught up in them. But you’re the best thing that’s happened to me for a long time, and I’m not taking cowardice as a reason for us not to be together.” 

“I’m not a coward.”

Yes, actually she is and it takes her a while to overcome her fears. It didn't take too long, however, and by the end of the novella, I believed she and Garth had a good shot at happiness. There really wasn't anything I disliked about this book, but I didn't find it as riveting as Seven Sexy Sins. For me, Summer Fling was a charming B read. 

Remember Me 

Remember Me is the most serious of the Woods books I read. It too is a novella and here I felt the brevity of the story was problematic. Its hero, Hamish McIntyre, has an even rougher past than Garth. Hamish was a soldier in the New Zealand Army and, while on duty in Afghanistan, was blown-up by a suicide bomber. He is now missing much of his right leg and his memory of the past fifteen years of his life. He's returned to his family's beach house on the west coast of the Northland Island to recover and rebuild his life. There he meets Rose, a woman his brother tells him he was involved with before he left the last time for Afghanistan.

“You met her the day you came home on leave, at a party. Her folks have a beach house somewhere nearby. You brought her back here for a drink. After the party, I went back to Kerikeri, so I only met her briefly. Far as I know, she stayed the night—and every night after that for three weeks. Mum and Dad loved her. So did Brandon.” He patted the boxer’s rump. “But then you had to return to Afghanistan. I don’t know what happened. You told me you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Rose has never gotten over Hamish and, now that he's back, she inserts herself in his life again. One of the lovely parts of this book is their back story--Rose tells Hamish (and the reader) what happened between them in the past which is both sexy and sad. I struggled more with Hamish and Rose in the present. The conflict that pushed them apart in the past still exists for them now but, this go-round, it's resolved in the blink of an eye. I liked the bones of their story--and it's fabulous that a one-legged, amnesic vet is portrayed as decidedly sexually desirable--but I needed more to believe Rose and Hamish could have the happy ending Ms. Woods writes for them. I give their story a C+. 

White Hot Christmas 

It's possible that I was beginning to burn out on Ms. Woods--this was the last of her books I read--but White Hot Christmas didn't really work for me. (Jane liked it better than I did. You can read her review here.)  The hero, super-hunky fire fighter Neon (short for Napoleon) Carter, falls for his cousin's wife's sister while she's visiting New Zealand over her Christmas holiday. The heroine, beautiful and brilliant Merle Cameron, is taking a few weeks to escape her miserable life in Southwest England where she's single, underpaid as a university lecturer in archaeology, and stuck taking care of her demanding, mean mom.  Merle and Neon, in lust from the moment they first saw one another, embark on a passionate affair knowing it has a set end date. They have lots of great sex--and it is great sex, Ms. Woods writes passion well--and, of course, find they want more than the time they have. 

Neon is too faultless a hero for me. He's gorgeous, smart (which is supposed to be surprising because he's just a fire fighter--this irked me), the best lover in New Zealand (and maybe in the whole Southern hemisphere), and saves small children and cats with courage and kindness. He's the best at everything he does--even his parents are flawless. I never cottoned to him. Plus, the stunt he pulls to win Merle's love at the novel's end seemed ridiculous and somewhat trashy. I didn't find him sexy--although he seems like he'd be great to have sex with--I found him predictable. 

I didn't like Merle much better. For starters, she comes to New Zealand to visit her sister whom she never sees and then she spends all her time with a studly guy. She violates the 'ho's before bros rule. She also has sex in the bathroom of her sister's in-law's house while his family and Neon's are in the next room. This threw me--here again, it seemed smutty rather than hot. Lastly, she's a bit of a martyr and she takes way too long to value herself and Neon. For much of the book, she annoyed me. 

I did, though, enjoy other parts of the story. There's lots of witty banter in this book between many of the characters and some of it is laugh out loud funny. New Zealand is a character in this book and is described so gorgeously I wanted to emigrate tomorrow. I think if I'd read this book first, I'd have liked it more. It's a light, fun read. It's just no Seven Sexy Sins so, for me, it was a C read. 

Stranded with a Scotsman 

Stranded with a Scotsman was my least favorite Woods book. It seemed more like a chapter from a longer, possibly boring, novel.  The couple in it, Ewan Macbeth and Cori Spencer, are stranded in a ten-by-four-foot wooden box during high tide off the coast of Scotland. The two were once involved, her father put an end to it, and neither is really over the other despite the fact Cori is engaged to marry another man. They sit in the box, play a game of Truth or Dare, and discover... well, I'm sure anyone can suss out what they discover. I was actually bored by this book--I never liked Truth or Dare--and thought its premise forced. Part of the problem is it's just 53 pages long--I had no context for the subtext that infused their interaction and found very little to like in their box. Upon finishing it, I wanted my half an hour back. I give it a D-.

Within Reach by Sarah Mayberry

Grade: B

passion rating: hot

Dear Ms. Mayberry, 

Years ago I saw a made for TV movie called The Substitute Wife. Set in "Pioneer Times," it starred Lea Thompson as a woman with four children who knows she's dying. She's determined to find someone to replace her and ultimately brings home a hooker with a heart of gold played by rather subdued Farrah Fawcett. That plot appealed to me then and it appeals to me now. I love the idea a wife leaving this world could pick her successor. When I was younger, I gave this some thought. If I died, who would I have picked to marry my husband and raise my kids? I almost always chose one of my very closest friends who were, at the time, conveniently unmarried. Who better to take over my life and keep it safe than someone I loved and knew? When I read the summary for Within Reach--husband is widowed far too young, left with small children, and finds himself falling for his dead wife's best friend--I had to read it. I liked Within Reach a lot but I struggled with the idea that both the husband, Michael, and the best friend, Angie, were so freaked at their coupling. Their relationship seemed almost predestined and, if you ask me, it's one Billie, the dead wife, would have approved of whole-heartedly. 

Michael and Billie Young were happy, truly happy, together. Michael, an architect, loved his job, his wife, and their two children Eva and Charlie. Billie stayed at home, enjoying being a full-time mom who dabbled in ceramics. She'd been best friends with Angie since the two met in boarding school. Angie, a jeweler, is, at thirty-two, single. She's yet to find the guy whom she'd like to settle down and have kids with. She likes kids; in fact, she loves Eva and Charlie and spent, prior to Billie's death, a fair amount of her free time hanging out with Billie, Eva, and Charlie. One horrible afternoon Billie collapses and dies of a genetic heart defect. Michael--and Angie--are devastated. Michael takes a year off from his job to care for his kids but, ten months after Billie's death, it's clear to Angie he's drowning in grief and bringing the kids down with him. Angie, worried and anxious, confronts him.

“You think this half life is doing any of you any good? When was the last time you left the house to do anything other than drop Eva at school or go to the supermarket? When was the last time you did something because you wanted to rather than because you had to?” 

For a moment there was so much blazing anger in his eyes that she almost shrank into her seat. She understood his anger—his wife of six years had died suddenly and brutally from an undiagnosed congenital heart defect, leaving him to raise their two children alone. He’d lost his dreams, his future, the shape of his world in the space of half an hour. 

But the fact remained that life went on. Michael was alive, and Billie was dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Certainly living in some sort of shadow world wasn’t going to fix things or make them better. 

So she stood her ground and eyed him steadily. “I know it’s hard. I think about her every day. I miss her like crazy. But you stopping living isn’t going to bring her back.”

Angie is, of course, right about this. The dead don't return--at least not in standard contemporary romance--no matter how loved they were. Michael, a rational guy, accepts this. What he can't accept is that he has a right--even, according to Angie, a responsibility--to live and love again. Michael believes a life lived immune to romantic and sexual intimacy is his dutiful destiny. He's therefore horrified, after the above confrontation with Angie, to feel his libido come alive. First he dreams about sex with a faceless woman--clearly not Billie. Then, as the he and Angie spend more time in contact, he begins to see her as a desirable woman. This awareness initially makes him miserable. Angie is not only his dead wife's best friend--she's the rock on which his recovering family is anchored. She picks up Eva from school, changes Charlie's diapers, and gently, but firmly, ushers Michael back into the land of the living. 

Angie is equally appalled to be attracted to Michael. To her, he's always been Billie's and she, Angie, never gave his gorgeous body or his intelligent charm any real thought. But now that Billie's dead, and Angie's practically living in Michael's house--she moves her studio to the pottery nook Billie never got the chance to truly use--Angie finds herself hyper-aware of Michael the man.

She’d acknowledged it a number of times—Michael was good-looking. The strong planes of his face, those clear gray-green eyes, the dark, rumpled hair. And his body. Even in his current lean-and-mean state he was still built on heroic lines. She’d have to be blind not to notice so much male beauty. 

But he’d always been tall and dark and handsome and he’d always had the body of a god and it had never bothered her for a second before. 

Yes, but he belonged to Billie then. 

The realization hit in a cold rush. 

She’d never been the sort of woman who coveted other women’s men. It wasn’t part of her makeup. But Billie was dead, and even though Angie would never, ever dream of looking sideways at her best friend’s husband, on some subconscious level she was obviously aware of the fact that Michael was now a free agent. 

She shook her head, deeply uncomfortable with the direction of her own thoughts. She didn’t want to be aware of him in that way.

This conflict between desire and denial is beautifully portrayed in Within Reach. Your deft writing makes the grief and guilt Michael and Angie feel palpable; I teared up several times as I read Within Reach. Billie's death is also so damn sad for her kids--both of whom are wonderfully rendered--that, at times, I had to put the book down and collect myself. I loved the sorrow in this book--it's the sort that makes one appreciate being alive and able to love. 

click here to read the rest of the review

Broken Harbour by Tana French

this review was originally published at DearAuthor.com

Dear Ms. French–

OK, deep breath and here goes. I love your work but I’ve read this book three times now and I really don’t get it. Broken Harbour is obsessively readable and jammed with sumptuous language. It has a fabulous first person narrator with an idiosyncratic voice. And yet, Broken Harbour didn’t add up for me. It’s a kick-ass read, to be sure, but, when I finished it and gave it some serious thought, I wasn’t quite sure what happened. In a mystery, that is a disappointment.

Broken Harbour is recounted by Detective Michael Kennedy–his colleagues at the fictional Murder Squad, based in Dublin, all call him “Scorcher.” Readers of your other books will remember Scorcher from the last book in the series, Faithful Place, where he was, frankly, a pompous ass. One of the pleasures of Broken Harbour is seeing Scorcher as he defines himself–the traits that made him unlikable in the previous novel are here shown to be, if not likable, exceedingly useful. As he says,

I am bloody good at my job. I still believe that. I’ve been on the Murder Squad for ten years, and for seven of those, ever since I found my feet, I’ve had the highest solve rate in the place. This year I’m down to second, but the top guy got a run of slam dunks, domestics where the suspect practically slapped the cuffs on his own wrists and served himself up on a plate with applesauce. I pulled the tough ones, the nobody-seen-nothing junkie-on-junkie drudgery, and I still scored.

Scorcher’s boss hands Scorcher and his newbie partner Richie Curran a horrific case: in a house out in one of Dublin’s dying “luxury” estates built during the boom, a family has been slaughtered. The husband was stabbed to death, the two young children suffocated, and the wife lies in the hospital, barely alive, covered in wounds and bruises. The development, now called Brianstown, was once a seaside town called Broken Harbour… Scorcher flinches when he hears the name.

In Broken Harbour, as in all your books, there are two story-lines: the present mystery is connected to the past in ways that matter tremendously to your protagonists. For Scorcher, Broken Harbour is the most significant place of his childhood. It is there his family vacationed each summer and it is there his mother walked into the ocean and never returned. Scorcher and his family are still, years later, damaged by Broken Harbour –the children are estranged from their terminally depressed father, one sister is relentlessly happy, the other, seriously mentally ill.

As Scorcher and Richie try to piece together what happened at Jenny and Pat Spains’ house, Scorcher’s past–especially his crazy sister Dina–keeps tripping him up. He’s just barely holding it together and there’s nothing that matters more to Scorcher Kennedy than being one hundred percent in control. It doesn’t help that the case, the deeper Scorcher delves into it, is full of yokes–clues to us Yanks–that don’t add up. The Spains’ house, which Jenny kept spotless, has random holes punched in its walls, a huge steel trap with massive teeth on the attic floor, and baby monitors everywhere though the Spains’ children, Jack and Emma, were too old for such things. Even when, halfway through the book, Scorcher collars the perfect suspect, the case keeps slipping through his fingers, leaving him frustratingly unsure he knows what really went down.

The first 80% of this book is terrific–I couldn’t stop reading it, drawn into Scorcher’s mind, the case, the Spains, young Richie, and the investigative genius of the Murder Squad. I wondered as I furiously read how you would tie all the myriad ends together.

I don’t think you did. At the tale’s end, not only are there mysteries left unsolved–there are hints the answers might be found in the realm of the supernatural (in this, Broken Harbour is much like your debut novel In the Woods)–but the reasons given for why a host of characters act as they do are not supported by either their behaviors or personalities. Scorcher is a somewhat unreliable storyteller–you make that clear in the beginning of the novel with the explanation he gives for his nickname, an explanation contradicted in your last book Faithful Place. But within the context of his telling of the story, the people he describes don’t, ultimately, behave in accordance with his portrayals. In the last portion of the book, I found myself baffled, unable to credit the resolutions presented.

My reservations about the viability of your story do not extend to any reservations I have about recommending Broken Harbour. Your book is literary crack–it’s almost impossible to put down once begun. Scorcher’s voice is outstanding and the ways he and his team solve the sad story of the Spains is riveting. Your vision of modern Ireland, wounded, angry, still just a handspan away from economic collapse, is fascinating. Even the weaker plot of Scorcher’s troubled past is interesting–although heavy-handed. The prose is vividly brilliant–God, can you write. There are reams of paragraphs like these two, filled with sentences I read again and again just for the joy of it.

There have been so many of them. Run-down rooms in tiny mountain-country stations, smelling of mold and feet; sitting rooms crammed with flowered upholstery, simpering holy cards, all the shining medals of respectability; council-flat kitchens where the baby whined through a bottle of Coke and the ashtray overflowed onto the cereal-crusted table; our own interview rooms, still as sanctuaries, so familiar that blindfolded I could have put my hand on that piece of graffiti, that crack in the wall. They are the rooms where I have come eye to eye with a killer and said, You. You did this.

I remember every one. I save them up, a deck of richly colored collector’s cards to be kept in velvet and thumbed through when the day has been too long for sleep. I know whether the air was cool or warm against my skin, how light soaked into worn yellow paint or ignited the blue of a mug, whether the echoes of my voice slid up into high corners or fell muffled by heavy curtains and shocked china ornaments. I know the grain of wooden chairs, the drift of a cobweb, the soft drip of a tap, the give of carpet under my shoes. In my father’s house there are many mansions: if somehow I earn one, it will be the one I have built out of these rooms.

Broken Harbour isn’t even half as good as your last book, the dazzling Faithful Place. It is my least favorite of your novels. Its ending left me thwarted and wanting. It’s still worth reading. I give it a B.

Somewhat reverentially,

Dabney

Almost a Scandal by Elizabeth Essex

Grade: C+

passion rating: warm

For generations, the Kents have served proudly with the British Royal Navy. So when her younger brother refuses to report for duty, Sally Kent slips into a uniform and takes his place—at least until he comes to his senses. Boldly climbing aboard the Audacious, Sally is as able-bodied as any sailor there. But one man is making her feel tantalizingly aware of the full-bodied woman beneath her navy blues… Dedicated to his ship, sworn to his duty—and distractingly gorgeous—Lieutenant David Colyear sees through Sally’s charade, and he’s furious. But he must admit she’s the best midshipman on board—and a woman who tempts him like no other. With his own secrets to hide and his career at stake, Col agrees to keep her on. But can the passion they hide survive the perils of a battle at sea? Soon, their love and devotion will be put to the test.

Dear Ms. Essex, 

 I’ve read and enjoyed your first three books: Georgian histories steeped in naval history. Your writing style is distinctive and seductive—you have a gift for dreamy description and passionately portrayed love scenes. I looked forward to losing myself in this book, Almost a Scandal, and was startled when, half-way through, I realized I wasn’t especially enchanted by your plot or your protagonists. 

In Almost a Scandal, nineteen year old Sally Kent hates the dull land-locked life she has as a young, unmarried woman in Falmouth. All the men in her family—brothers, cousins, and her famous captain father—serve in the British Royal Navy under Admiral Nelson. The Kents, with the exception of the youngest son Richard, adore the sea and Sally is no exception. Thus, when Richard acts on his threat to run away from his sea-faring destiny—he wants to be a minister—and doesn’t show up to report for his assigned duty on His Majesty’s Ship Audacious, Sally dons his uniform and takes his place.

It wasn’t the first time Sally Kent had donned a worn, hand me-down uniform from one of her brothers’ sea chests, but it was the first time it had felt so completely, perfectly right. She had always been tall and spare, strong for a girl, but dressed in the uniform of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, she felt more than strong. She felt powerful.

(I had a hard time believing any woman could pull off such a deception. How would she pee, hide having periods, or constantly keep a bunch of randy sailors at bay? But, I did some research and it turns out there were several women who did indeed serve as men in Nelson’s Navy and managed to remain undetected for years. The most famous was a woman named Hannah Snell who served for over five years on the HMS Swallow from 1745-1750.) 

 At the dock in Portsmouth, Sally is picked up and rowed out to the Audacious by driven, darkly handsome First Lieutenant David St. Vincent Colyear. “Col” is no stranger to Sally. He’s a close friend of her older brothers and, the summer she was thirteen and he nineteen, he spent six weeks living with her family while he studied for his lieutenancy exams. Sally is panicked he’ll recognize her but he does not. She's easily brought onboard and presented to Captain Hugh McAlden (the hero of your last book, The Danger of Desire, reviewed here by Janine) and the other men aboard the ship. Everyone accepts her as a young man—she’s pretending to be Richard’s age of fifteen—and Sally is elated to finally be a midshipman. She loves the work and is a gifted sailor—flying up the rigging, full of knowledge about the sea and ships, deftly offering leadership to her peers on ship. 

But, from the moment Sally steps on board, Col is strongly drawn to, as he calls her, Kent. And when, soon after she joins the crew, he hears her singing an old ditty he’d heard her sing years ago, Col suddenly realizes Kent is Sally rather than Richard. He confronts her with the truth and she begs him to let her stay onboard. Astonishingly, he does. I say astonishingly because for him to do so requires him to both break the law and risk all he’s worked for. Why does he do this? In large part because he’s desired Sally since he met her—when she was thirteen (a little icky for me)—and he’s compelled now to keep her near him. 

click here for the rest of the review

The Legendary Playboy Surgeon by Alison Roberts

Grade: B-

passion rating: warm

Dear Ms. Roberts-- I am baffled why such a good book has such a stupid title. Really, I am. When I first saw your book The Legendary Playboy Surgeon I snorted.  The cover is awful--some dark-haired dude wearing oversized aviators is going for sexy and coming across surly--and the series description, "Heartbreakers of St. Patrick's Hospital. The delicious doctors you know you shouldn't fall for!"sounds like an atrocious reality TV show. I was sure, as someone who has worked in  hospitals and  is married to a not-playboy surgeon, I'd read your book and mock and jeer at the incorrectly rendered medical world and shallow portrayals of dick-obsessed doctors. I was wrong. The Legendary Playboy Surgeon not only is spot-on in its portrayal of a working hospital, but its hero, Dr. Connor Matthews, is a compassionate physician who reminds me of surgeons I've known--the good ones whose patients are beyond grateful to have them as their caretakers. 


A running joke in medicine is that surgeons know nothing and do everything, internists know everything and do nothing, and pathologists know everything and do everything but it's always too late. There are no internists in this tale, but there's a do everything while breaking the rules orthopedic surgeon and a conscientious do and know everything pathologist. Connor, the surgeon, is a playboy in that he's dated a string of babelicious blonde nurses at his hospital, but, really, he's always been an honest, generous lover and he's never lied to get into anyone's scrubs. All of his ex-conquests think he's a good guy and kinda envy who's ever currently warming in his bed. He's dedicated to his patients, savvy about hospital politics, and more or less an emotional loner. Kate, the pathologist, does both regular pathology and autopsy work. She's driven, determined to correctly diagnose not only the cause of death in her cadavers, but the exact pathogen sent by the OR to her diagnostic lab. She's also a survivor of childhood abuse; she copes with her past by keeping her distance from men and by walling off any strong emotional responses. 


I did find the opening scene in the book a bit much. Connor, wanting to make the day of a dying little boy, actually rides his motorcycle into the kids' ward. (I kept thinking about all the filtrating oxygen masks being besieged by noxious particulate matter.) Kate can not believe he's done such a rule-breaking, possibly dangerous thing. Connor, wearing black leathers, tells Kate not only is she way too uptight, her tightly buttoned up lab coat looks stupid, and she seriously needs to get a life. But, once I got past the unlikeliness of even a hot-shot surgeon being able to ride a chopper into a ward, I liked Connor, Kate, and their relationship. 


Kate, in particular, is a moving character. She was raised in an abusive home, and, like many a survivor of childhood chaos, is most comfortable when she is in complete control. She's 34, lives alone, and has never let her guard down with a man--even when she's had sex, she's always distanced herself from the experience. She can't stand what she knows of Connor--he's a rule-breaker, the kind of guy who charms his way past regulations, and he seems to sleep around. (Kate doesn't do casual sex.) When she confronts him about the inappropriateness of his stunt with his bike, she's shocked to realize his motivation wasn't to look hot in front of the nursing staff, but rather to grant a chlid's last wish.  When he then lashes out at her personal life, she's at first angry and then, much to her chagrin, focused on whether or not he's right. 


Connor, a nice guy, is appalled he was flat out mean to Kate. He has always thought of her as Princess Prim and Proper from Pathology but he knows she's a good physician and a dedicated caregiver. She certainly didn't deserve him dumping all over her. Over the next few days, Connor keeps revisiting their confrontation in his mind. She's not his type--in fact there's a new nurse on his service, a bubbly blonde named Bella who has his name written all over her come-thither smiles--but he can't stop thinking about Kate. She's so tightly locked down--Connor wonders what Kate would be like if she let down her hair and defenses.  One afternoon in the OR, Bella injures her foot and Connor, who is considering sampling her charms, offers her a ride home on his bike. He is stunned to deliver Bella to Kate's house--Kate, though less than a decade older than Bella, is her aunt. Connor takes one look at Kate when she does indeed have her hair down and is oddly entranced.

click here to read the rest of the review