The Dark Affair by Máire Claremont
The heroine in this one must be the mother of modern psychiatry. No? Could have fooled me.
The heroine in this one must be the mother of modern psychiatry. No? Could have fooled me.
How appropriate that a story with “What on earth?” characters gets a “What on earth?” title.
This is a polished and well-written story, but I just ain’t feeling the magic.
Do we need another Mary Balogh? Isn’t one enough?
Everything good about this medieval romance is submerged under the hero’s constant bleating about his guilt, anguish, and other rot.
This one is not a typical romance novel. It may not even be a good one. But it’s for all those who dream of giving their lot the finger.
Beware! The heroine is indeed “innocent” – the poor dear really shouldn’t be allowed to make key decisions in her life.
Someone spelled “arses” wrong in the title.
Come undress me; I have prettied myself with a ball and chain, with a refuge in my old name…
The hero is whiny, mopey, petty, and – worst of all – bewildering. Nothing worse than a crybaby that makes no sense.