Of all Ash Turner’s accomplishments, stealing a dukedom from his old enemy is by far the most brazen. Now that he’s been recognized as the heir, nothing remains but to head to Parford Manor and survey the estate that will be his. He expects opposition.
He gets Lady Margaret.
Margaret lost everything when Ash claimed the dukedom: her dowry, her legitimacy, and her place in society. Now Ash wants to take her family home, too. She disguises herself as a nurse, determined to learn his weaknesses. But the closer she comes to Ash, the greater the pull of his reckless charm. If she wants to reclaim what she has lost, her only choice is to betray the man she is beginning to love…
Historical Victorian Romance
381 e-book pages, Enhanced Edition
Series, book 1 of A Turner Series
January 29-30, 2016
Ratings are 1 to 5 stars and based mostly on GoodReads standards.
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I don’t think I’m ready to stop iterating that I don’t like reading historical romance. Not long ago I said I would. Seems I’ve lied. I’ll just keep peeking around the corner of my denial and stay crouched in this little closet like a fugitive with the door cracked open just a smidge to let in enough light by which to read.
Do you believe me?
I think it has to do with all the fabric. The yards and yards and layers upon layers of fabric. Corsets with their boning and cinched too tight to sneeze properly. Not eating or drinking for hours because going to the bathroom is too difficult. Slippers unsuitable for any real conditions to walk with surety across any surface but Persian rugs or marbled ballroom floors.
It reminds me of when I walked my parents’ dog down the street in my wedding gown after the reception and before the after-party at their house. The neighbors are still talking about it. Well, new hubs and I were the first ones there and the dog hadn’t been out in hours. What’s a bride to do?
I would not make a fine lady during those times. I don’t make much of a fine lady now as I sit here in my preferred uniform of yoga pants and hoodie, socks, hair in disarray, my feet tucked up in the chair with me, likely some queso dip on my chin. Kiddingnotkidding.
Damn and blast it. I liked this. Really, really liked this.
Cause see…Courtney Milan turned the usual Regency Romance tropes on their fucking ear with this.
Dude says I want you, chic says nope, dude ambles away with a hat tip.
What what what?
But…but it’s not s’posta happen like that!
This story was highly enjoyable. The writing was superb. The characters have actual character. We aren’t treated to endless parties and balls of the ton. We aren’t treated to overblown propriety and outdated, pretentious speech patterns.
These folks get real. Really real. Elite dines with servants. First names are used. A lady is taught to bodily defend herself.
The lady has power. She means something. She’s not a decoration. She’s not judged on her embroidery skills.
Mr. Hero isn’t perfect and knows it.
My only niggle…and it’s kinda silly because FICTION. But would someone explain to me how the hero can always, and so easily, get under all those layers of confectionary lace and silk and whatnot to hone right in on the lady-parts like a laser guided missile? Every time. Even wall sex and chair sex where the guy can’t just follow the ankle up the leg to the great beyond. Like there’s nary an obstacle he can’t conquer with the sheer force of will and a hard-on.
Just once I’d like to see the guy become impossibly entangled and lost in the labyrinth of skirts and crinoline.
But I’ve digressed.
This is the kind of historical romance I can like and not care one whit about what anyone says when I stand on top of my own judgment, ground my heels into it and proclaim far and wide: Read Courtney Milan.
This review also posted on GoodReads.