Hi, my name is Rebecca, I’m 28 years old, and I’ve never read a romance novel. Ever. I mean, I’ve read classic literary romances like Wuthering Heights and A Room With A View, but no smut, UNTIL NOW. Because the romance section always seems to be right next to the science fiction section, I happened upon the shelves and thought, “Do you know what would be funny? My prudish, queer, craft-obsessed, Yankee reaction to one of these.”
The things we do for comedy.
I was looking for curly lettering, garish colors, a softcore illustration, mad heteronormativity, (not exactly literary accolades) and some kind of quaint identity that might appear as a costume during the YMCA, like a fireman or a cowboy or:
Look at this broad-shouldered dude dominating the lady, who clearly hopped in a time machine and went to Sephora because ain’t nobody had make-up like that in 1859, when our story begins. And the tartan! How… tartantalizing.
The Story Begins
We open with not one, but five gratuitously shirtless Scotsmen. Geez, Karen! Don’t you know it’s my first time?
It seems the author’s setting our main pair up for some hate sex, unless maybe their hearts soften before they do it. I’m on team Soft.
These characters are so relatable. “Why does he get whiskey?” Fergus complained. Yeah, why does he? Where’s mine? What do you mean it’s too early and besides, I’m breastfeeding? Fergus, bro, I feel you.
Getting Into It
This supposedly historical fiction sure contains a lot of anachronisms, but I can’t complain, because I work at the Renaissance Festival.
“She felt a surge of affection for the other woman, and wished there were some way to thank her for her willingness to help.” Omg, are there lesbians? Can there be lesbians?! I mean, it makes no difference to me…
The male half is so likable: a lot of time spent on his history and character development. The lady, thus far, is a silly b*tch. He should fix that with his p*nis.
But seriously, I’d be like, “Nah, brother, move on, you don’t need that kind of negativity in your life,” and he’d take up knitting Fairhaven sweaters, and open a shop, and during a trip to the market he’d meet a kind-hearted wool spinner, and they’d bond over yarn, if you know what I mean.
And the female half would be like, “Oh, darn. I guess I should have been a likable character,” and her lesbian friend would say, “You’re plenty likable, except you’re a closet case. Let me fix that with my not-p*nis,” and they’d live happily ever after. *Disney choir*
Back To You, Karen
What? There are ghosts now? This is quite a story.
No sex yet. The Lady is still pursing her lips and huffing around, but I am becoming more sympathetic to her because she is broke and stressed. As a sympathetic reader, I’m thinking she needs to get l*id. Ohhhh. That’s intentional, isn’t it?
I’m more interested in the real estate plot than the advertised nookie. Is this like reading Playboy for the articles?
They keep saying “arse.” That proves it’s really Scottish. I, too, can be Scottish: bonnie wee lass single-malt Speyside thistle. F*ckweasel. Yes.
They keep having flashbacks, like the one where she tickled him and he “let out a masculine yowl of protest.” A masculine… yowl. Of protest. Ah. Yes. One of those.
OH, FINALLY. It’s about damn time they did it. Chapter 20, page 222. It was fine, I guess. I could have done without the paragraph detailing the “various attributes of his marvelous weapon of pleasure.”
Hooray! They finally worked out their stuff. That was the climax.
The book is done now, right? Their feelings are aired, and all the quasi-developed side plots will wrap up, right?
LOL n00b, there are 150 more pages.
Wait, why are they having hate-sex now? This makes no sense. Come on, Karen, you’re killing me.
His trousers are difficult to remove, on account of his large erection. Poor fellow. I can relate, except with thighs.
“His c*ck was pointing at her as if it were a sentient being and knew its home.”
His c*ck was
pointing at her as if
it were a
Is It Over Yet?
Page 302: “Dear God, they were all pathetic.” Yes! True. The end. Wait, there’s more.
“I’ve a mind to kiss you,” he said in a thick brogue. #YouDontSay! Thank God she finally made it clear that the Scottish guy has a Scottish accent. I’d been hearing a Japanese accent in my head this whole time.
Writing tip: Whenever your plot becomes woefully tedious, have some mysterious assailant punch the protagonist in the face. Who is this guy, and why does he keep punching Shona in the face? These are the questions that drive well-crafted narrative.
Apparently, a single distressing night lost in a castle is enough to nearly kill our stalwart Scotswoman. Thankfully, lover boy came to the rescue, for if he hadn’t (I’m not making this up), she would have perished, resting upon the poetically posed skeletons of the castle’s ghosts.
Was It Good For Me?
Nah. Honey, if I want porn, the Internet’s got plenty, and it only takes seconds to consume, not hours. If I want a story, the library has better. If I want story-porn… well, I don’t.
But this was fun.
My sincerest apologies to the successful and, I hope, happy and healthy Karen Ranney.
YouTube Channel: ReginaTV
Featured image via PopSugar