My Lady Beloved by Lael St James
Wow, this is practically a textbook epitome of the word “generic”.

Wow, this is practically a textbook epitome of the word “generic”.

Oh, this one is so vile and misogynistic, I weep for the trees that died for this thing.

The dumb heroine is made of hate. My hate.

Renaissance Italy! Nice.

The secondary characters are so much more fun than the main couple. Is that how everything is supposed to be?

This is one book fantastically devoid of any sign of intelligence.

Ugh, the hero is such a gaping sore-covered anus.

The heroine loves to talk. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry…

Everyone’s heaping praises on it. I don’t get it. Oh well.

If you’ve ever dreamed of shagging your babysitter, this one is patterned after your heart.
