I’m beginning to wonder: do I have some knack for selecting truly horrific romance novels to read or have the majority of romance novels jumped off the deep end? Am I just paying more attention to the infuriating plots and characters than I used to? Is my critical eye more attuned, less forgiving? Or do these books have some kind of psychic pull over me that leaves me helpless, unable to resist? Am I being punished?
Also, food for thought: “pirate’s” is an anagram for “rape-ist.”
Love is complicated. You know what else is complicated? Complications. I finished this doozy of a romance novel more than a week ago and it’s taken me until now to recover. I think Patricia Hagan had an idea for five or six novels and then decided just to shove them all into one. Her publisher made the brilliant decision to con people like me into buying this twisty turn maze of sex and violence with this seemly innocuous blurb:
After her father’s death, Julie Marshal vowed to save the family plantation, even if it meant marrying a man she knew she could never love. But duty would soon give way to desire in the arms of Derek Arnhardt, a rugged ship’s captain whose mistress was the sea – until he saw the green-eyed beauty. Then, nothing could come between him and his ultimate goal – to possess Julie body and soul.
Pirate romance! Sounds hot, right? Sounds totally normal, right? Pirate! Romance! Innocuous! Sexy! Holy canola, it took a hard left, like, right away.