Golden Angel, $4.99
Historical Romance, 2020
Proving that the now-dead Kimani line doesn’t have a monopoly on using the first few chapters of the story to conduct a roll call of characters from past and future stories to entice me to buy their stories, Golden Angel’s A Season for Treason nearly loses me in the first two chapters because of this.
There are so many annoyingly obvious sequel bait dumps in those chapters that it’s like the author constantly waving sales pamphlets right in front of nose, what with characters start telling one another the background story of sequel baits and, worse, sequel baits doing this to one another—ugh, intrusive and obnoxious indeed.
Once that is out of the way, the story finally begin to piece together.
Rex, the Marquess of Hartford, also known as the King because a romance hero needs a nickname to go with each inch of his pee-pee, wants to get married. Sure, he wants his life to remain as it is once he’s married—lots of boinking and partying—but at the same time, he wants a special wife, a fun wife.
I’d think he’d like a wife that doesn’t care and spends a lot of time abroad so that his boinking and partying can continue unabated, but then again, I’m not of the Ton so maybe there is some kind of brilliant logic there that eludes me.
The thing is, that rather strange Mary Wilson keeps showing up wherever he is out and about. One would think she is stalking him.
Actually, she is. Mary is the niece of the spymaster of England, so she fancies herself quite a bit of a spy herself. Having caught wind of a dastardly plot that is necessary to keep this story going, she takes it upon herself to snoop, and oh my, all clues lead to Sexy Rexy being the villain of the story. She must investigate more thoroughly, so that is what she is doing with all the subtlety of an elephant ballet in a china shop.
Oh, and she’s infatuated with Rex on Two Legs at first sight.
She needed to stop mooning over Hartford like a lovesick schoolgirl, just because he made her tingle and the skin on the back of her hand still felt warm from where his lips had pressed against her glove. While Mary was not a completely innocent young miss, thanks to Evie’s explanations since she actually was experienced in such matters, Mary dismissed her body’s reaction as the result of having a practiced rake focus on her. Any other rake would likely have the same effect if another ever chose to target her with his attentions. Hartford was nothing special. He was…
Mary frowned.
I am fully confident that she will be able to make rational, unbiased decisions with a clear head.
His eyebrows rose at the figure that appeared next to the rhododendron, hugging its branches as she looked about, trying to see where he had gone.
It was Miss Wilson—apparently, not as much a cipher as she had appeared next to her cousin. Perhaps he had been hasty in his judgment.
There goes the theory that one can inherit talent from an uncle just by existing.
“Hello, there.” His voice was a low purr as he emerged from the shadows of the bush, looming over her from a mere foot away. Her eyes widening, she stepped back, but she did not run, her head tipping back to stare up at him. “Looking for someone?”
“I… ah…” She blinked. Rallied. Her chin came up with a stubborn feminine air. “Lord Hartford. I seem to have lost my way. My apologies for interrupting your evening.”
Rex took a step closer, tilting his head down. In the moonlight, it was hard to see whether she paled or blushed, but he saw the rising panic in her eyes. Despite that, she held her ground rather than retreating again, which only intrigued him more.
“Have you?” he asked, standing close enough the pale blue skirts of her dress brushed his shins.
“Have I…?” she repeated. She didn’t seem to be able to look away.
Rex leaned down, his lips moving closer and closer to hers, giving her ample time to run. Would she run, or would she let him kiss her?
“Lost your way?”
Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, then his lips were on hers.
She definitely has everything under control!
So let’s recap: she is easily spotted during her spying sojourn, turns into a stammering mess with Rexy and other people when she has to lie, and is infatuated with her target. I am not even past the fifth chapter yet, mind you.
I suppose, in this case, I should applaud the author for telling me upright that her heroine is a blithering idiot instead of letting me slowly die inside as I find out this sordid fact for myself. Sure, I may resemble one of the dead-eyed people in the ballroom in the music video of Roxy Music’s Avalon, but at least I get the diagnosis of excruciating pain early on and can prepare myself in advance for the worst.
All this nonsense is just a set-up for the predictable inevitability: Rexona the Post-Coitus Antiperspirant throws a masked orgy ball, and our heroine charges into it like an obtuse dingbat.
She gets harassed, naturally, which is bad, because the harasser is not her designated true love. Rex on the Leech saves her, and then molests her, which is good, because every woman’s dream is to be sexually assaulted by her dreamboat honey.
Sadly, this isn’t a full-blown erotica, so there are still many pages of Mary’s tomfoolery that I have to endure before I get to the good stuff. Not that I am depraved person seeking only raunchy scenes in my romances, mind you, but when the story is all about a heroine running on empty but still going nonetheless because she’s too dumb to stop while she’s ahead, the love scenes are the only good things here where I’m concerned.
Fortunately, the sex scenes are hot. Perhaps because the bar has been set so low by the other parts of this story, I cling to those scenes like someone drowning that is given a lifeline. The descriptions are evocative, instead of purple, and I like how the hero talks dirty in a manner that comes off as commanding and sexy instead of cringe overload. There are also some parts that make me chuckle, but not enough to ruin the scene altogether.
Mary had seen enough at the masquerade to have a semblance of an idea what he wanted. The salty, meaty taste of him filled her mouth, and he pressed deeper. Her tongue flicked over the underside, exploring as she wrapped one hand around the thick base of his cock. A male rooster? While his member might not resemble one, in many ways, Rex did—preening, posing, and completely sure of himself.
So, that’s A Season for Treason in a nutshell. The sex scenes are hot, but on my god, the author comes up with such a ridiculous plot to get the heroine to put out, and in the process makes Mary come off like a total dingbat.
The hero’s alright, but he is done dirty by the author pairing him up with this imbecile. Mary never seems to be experiencing a sexual awakening as much as she is such a moron that she probably just goes along with all the naughty things the hero makes her do because she doesn’t know what else to do.
In other words, the heroine almost ruins those sex scenes as well, so she’s a menace all around.
To sum things up: the pros of this story are the sex scenes. The fact that I am giving this thing three oogies because of these scenes should tell you something.
Meanwhile, the cons are: Mary, she puts out way late into the story so the reader has to sit through her interminable tomfoolery, Mary, the whole dumb plot, Mary, Mary, and freaking Mary.
Readers wanting to read this one really should first try to re-calibrate their tolerance level for idiot plots and idiot heroines, just in case.
