Home For The Holidays
by Johanna Lindsey, historical (2000)
William Marrow, $18.00, ISBN 0-380-97856-3

Jodie Foster directed a nice funny movie called Home For The Holidays with the ever-reliable Holly Hunter, the swoonsome Dylan McDermott, and the hilarious Robert Downey, Jr. That one's a nice Christmastime movie worth watching.

This Home For The Holidays should be called "How The Farkin' Grinch Ruined My Life And I Forgave Him Because I'm Such A Dumb Bimbo Romance Heroine Who Is So Sweet I Probably Crap Chocolates". Or at least stamped a warning: "Aneurysm guaranteed unless you have a high tolerance for 'understanding' (read: spineless) wimpy heroines". Or, to be kind, "Die-hard fans only".

Our hero - I use that term loosely - Vincent Everett, some stupid baron (probably bought the title or slept with someone important to get it, mesays - meeeowww) who believes his stupid brother when the latter says that a George Ascot has ruined him financially. So Vincent sets out to ruin George, but George is out of the country. Okay, he'll ruin the daughter and son instead.

Here, I tell myself, all heroes start out on the wrong foot, even if this foot reeks of cruelty and misplaced vengeance.

After he tosses the kids out of the street, he sees the lovely daughter Larissa, and decides to seduce her. That will be even better vengeance, right? And then he will toss her back out on the streets.

Control, control. Don't want a burst blood vessel now.

Larissa actually lets herself be seduced, that spineless match girl-wannabe she is, thinking he will marry her.

When the truth comes out, I expect claws to start scratching and some stupid bastard's eyes to roll across the room. I actually clutched my heart when Larissa and family decide to forgive this odious creature and embrace him into the family! They understand. It's Christmas! Forgive, forgive, forgive!

I don't know whether to hoot in derision or sputter in indignation. Finally, I write these really weird creatures' behavior off as a result of their heads being addled the moment I fling this book hard across the room to hit the wall - thwack! - and consign this book off to the deep, dark ranks of Failed Rushed Christmas Cash-In.

Rating: 08

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