Michael Bourne is a Lord who lost everything on a single wager at the age of twenty-one except for his title. For ten years he has schemed and dreamed of regaining his childhood lands and getting revenge on the man who pushed him to bet it all and took it all away. When he learns that the piece of land he wants the most has changed hands and is now attached as a dowry to a woman he knew as a young girl, he is determined to marry her and have the land regardless of how she may feel about it.
Penelope remembers Michael as a dear, childhood friend, but soon finds that he’s a total asshat when he forces her to marry him. But as we all know, that isn’t how the story goes, right? Because they both still have those fond memories of each other, and they are both attracted to each other and want the other to be happy.
I thought the book was pretty good. I enjoyed the story, and the sex was nice and steamy. I liked the characters, although I obviously felt like punching the main characters, especially when they so obviously liked/loved each other but of course felt like they couldn’t let the other know. It’s a pet peeve of mine in romance books. The book was easy and the problems never felt insurmountable to me, although it always seems that way to the characters.
But there’s something else I wanted to briefly vent about. And I’m sure it has been discussed in this group before, but I haven’t been a part of this talk yet. I’m having a major issue reconciling how I feel about romance novels and how men treat the women–especially forced marriage, sexual coercion and rape. And even worse–what is wrong with me that I can possibly enjoy these books (not rape because although there are some romance novels that go there, I draw the line at that–seduction, fine. Rape? Nope.)? Because I do, dammit! It makes me angry and frustrated and I’m screaming in my head the whole time, but there’s also a part of me enjoying the damn thing and waiting for what I know is the inevitable falling in love part and sexy, fun time. Is it because I know this is a “safe” and “sure thing”? I know that although this isn’t something I’d want to happen to me in real life (the abduction and forced marriage part), because I know this is just part of a romance novel formula–I guess their version of a fucking meet cute–that I can allow myself to be okay with this? Because I’m totally not okay with this.
But you know what I did immediately after finishing this book? I bought the second fucking book. Because although it pissed me off, it also got my lions going, and I also enjoyed most of the storytelling when the leads weren’t being total idiot dill-holes and the man wasn’t being a fucking prick. I enjoyed the book and I hate myself a little for it. So…. a solid 3.5, but because of the self-hatred, I’m going with a 3. But don’t let that deter you if you enjoy romance. It was enjoyable. I’m just obviously in a mood now.
(By the way, my husband’s nickname for romance novels is “Catch-me, fuck-me books”)
I think we all (or most of us at least) have similar issues with some romances. I think the guarantee of the Happily Ever After helps a lot with the “seduction”. I reviewed this one last year and also gave it three stars. The next is most people’s favorite, so hopefully you like it more! Fair warning to skip the third in the series though, it’s a dumpster fire.
Actually I just finished the 2nd book–I kind of gobbled it up last night and all day/night today. It was a lot of fun! I’m not as intrigued with Temple so I wasn’t sure about the 3rd… I’m a little disappointed to hear that book 3 is a resounding NOPE
I liked this one and the next one, and the others in the series not so much. Of course, the secret of Chase’s identity is the real reason I kept reading!
I was searching through her book list to see if Chase had a book. I will skip book 3, but I may have to read book 4 for Chase, even if it isn’t as good as 1 & 2.
For me, some of the, shall we say, potentially uncomfortable elements come down to willing suspension of disbelief. It inhabits this weird, idiosyncratic area where my brain decides what crosses the line (violence, the suggestion thereof, enjoyment of the heroine’s victimhood) and what doesn’t. Also, I try to give myself a pass on some of the self-judgement since I wrestled mightily with loving this genre and what the patriarchy tells me I am and am not supposed to like either intellectually or in my escapism.
For me that sort of things gets a barely-pass in historicals and zero pass in contemps.