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Shadows of the Night, Lydia Joyce.
I hesitate to call it enlightened, but it's better than some of Joyce's romances have been. Okay. Fern, the heroine, is the perfect society wife. Colin, the husband, is the perfect viscounte. Togetherthey fight crime they discover that perfect sucks. The dialogue between them at first is cringingly awkward because they can't be real people with each other. The first night of sex is bad and Fern, a former virgin, is traumatized. Fern grows a backbone. After Colin scolds her for disrespecting him, Fern cracks him a good one across the face.
Kinky bitey clawing sex ensues.
I liked this book. Both of her characters were endearing, if screwed up. There was no overwhelming trauma to explain why Colin was an ass, just that he was enculturated to be an ass. There's not as much kink as I'd like; IDK, I prefer the spanking and the roleplaying to raking one's nails across one's husband's back because, um, ow. I did like that Fern was the top, so to speak, and she found that she wasn't helpless by the fact that she could hurt Colin and make him like it. Which is surprisingly kinky for straight romance. And the ending, in which Colin's manwhore past comes back to bite them, was handled maturely and left room for the characters to continue to grow into themselves.
I don't especially like regency romances, but I like Joyce's. When her heroes aren't, y'know, raping people.
I hesitate to call it enlightened, but it's better than some of Joyce's romances have been. Okay. Fern, the heroine, is the perfect society wife. Colin, the husband, is the perfect viscounte. Together
Kinky bitey clawing sex ensues.
I liked this book. Both of her characters were endearing, if screwed up. There was no overwhelming trauma to explain why Colin was an ass, just that he was enculturated to be an ass. There's not as much kink as I'd like; IDK, I prefer the spanking and the roleplaying to raking one's nails across one's husband's back because, um, ow. I did like that Fern was the top, so to speak, and she found that she wasn't helpless by the fact that she could hurt Colin and make him like it. Which is surprisingly kinky for straight romance. And the ending, in which Colin's manwhore past comes back to bite them, was handled maturely and left room for the characters to continue to grow into themselves.
I don't especially like regency romances, but I like Joyce's. When her heroes aren't, y'know, raping people.