First of all, I have no idea what the heck is going on with the cover of this one. God knows what she’s actually doing, my husband has several theories, but all of them pretty much qualify in the NSFW category, so we’ll just leave it at that. Covers like these make me so very happy that I have an e-reader, because while I’m really not at all ashamed to admit that I enjoy romance novels, and read a lot of them, this is just not a cover I would want to display while on public transport on my way to work and back every day.
Lord Edward de Lacey is second of the Duke of Durham’s three sons. On the Duke’s deathbed, he confesses to Edward, and his youngest son, Gerard (the heir to the title is a wastrel and a rake who apparently had a massive falling out with his dad, and doesn’t show up in time for the passing of his father) that he has a rather inconvenient secret he’s been keeping. In his youth, before he became a Duke, he married a woman in secret, and never really made sure the marriage was dissolved or checked whether said woman was dead before he married his sons’ mother. He’s been receiving threatening notes that suggest someone knows about this, and the three young lords will need to figure out what actually happened, or their entire inheritance is at stake. More on my blog.
An open letter to Anya Wylde author of Penelope (A Madcap Regency Romance)
Dear Ms. Wylde:
Sincere congratulations on completing and publishing your second novel. It is indeed a great achievement and one which I certainly cannot claim; however, I have read a very, very many historical romances, so if it is true that novels are never finished only abandoned, I have some notes for you. If you have moved on, they might help with your next effort.
1. The writing itself is perfectly serviceable. The plotting, characters, tone, and editing are problematic.
2. The bit with “Are you thinking about your grandmother?” was very clever.
3. The heroine, Penelope, arrives at the Duke’s London residence with a PET GOAT. She may be a bumpkin with no filter, but this is patently ridiculous. It is neither endearing, nor whimsical. It is malodorous and incontinent. Why not a puppy? It could grow up, calm down, and, this is the important part, be house-trained.
4. The reader is given two random and extremely brief scenes of Penelope’s dead mother in heaven looking down on her between rounds of tossing her halo for wolfhounds to fetch. Sure. Why? Give a dog to Penelope and kill the dead mother (and the damn goat).
I’ve been feeling pretty depressed this year so I’ve been cheering myself up by reading romance novels. I’m up to book 11 in CBR V but I’ve only managed to review 4. I’m actually pretty embarrassed by what I’ve read this year, but since I couldn’t manage a quarter cannonball last time, I’ll take everything I can get.
Yes, I know. The title is ridiculous. There seems to be a trend in current historical romance, in particular the ones published by Avon, to have silly, punny titles. I mentioned it to my husband, who coined an absolute gem of a “so bad it’s good” title, and I’m hereby claiming it as my own, as it appears no one has yet to write a novel entitled Earls Just Want to Have Fun. That one’s mine, bitches. When I finally tire of teaching and decide to become the first Norwegian famous for Regency romance novels, that shall be my debut novel.
Lady Philippa “Pippa” Marbury is decidedly odd by society’s standards, and has known it her entire life. She’s more interested in horticulture, anatomy, physics and mathematics than gossip, fashion, balls and fancy dresses. She wears spectacles. In two weeks, she’s about to marry in a lavish double ceremony with her vibrant younger sister, to a man who’s perfectly nice, and more importantly, is the only one who ever thought to propose to her. As Pippa has always believed in doing thorough research and that this is the way to prepare for everything, she is in need of a research partner who can help her figure out the more puzzling aspect of married life.