As the daughter of a famed author, Isolde Ophelia Goodnight grew up on tales of brave knights and fair maidens. She never doubted romance would be in her future, too. The storybooks offered endless possibilities.
And as she grew older, Izzy crossed them off. One by one by one.
Ugly duckling turned swan?
Abducted by handsome highwayman?
Rescued from drudgery by charming prince?
No, no, and… Heh.
Now Izzy’s given up yearning for romance. She’ll settle for a roof over her head. What fairy tales are left over for an impoverished twenty-six year-old woman who’s never even been kissed?
I honestly don’t even know if I can be trusted to seriously rate historical romances. Mostly because where certain trends and tropes SERIOUSLY piss me off in EVERY SINGLE OTHER GENRE, in HR…
In fact, I actually look forward to certain HR tropes. They’re like mental check boxes, and the more of them are checked off, the higher I’m likely to rate the book.
Take this book. It had witty banter, hilarious moments, a disheveled duke, a virginal yet non-prudish female lead, hate to love relationship, hawt schmex, insta-lust, goddamn near insta-love, a drafty castle, and a plot I can hardly remember even though I just finished it.
Do you know what that translates to?
CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK. CHECK.