A Lady for Lord Randall by Sarah Mallory
Why take a story rife with possibilities and turn it into a tale of stubborn one-dimensional creatures scowling at one another?
Why take a story rife with possibilities and turn it into a tale of stubborn one-dimensional creatures scowling at one another?
The adventures, the dangers, and the hero are all adequate for a good time. The romance, not quite.
Don’t tell anyone, but I think the two main characters here skin bunnies and kill old ladies for fun.
The author didn’t run away with her fantastical premise, more the pity.
Wait, did anyone say “perfect”? Not today, dear, not today.
I loathe the heroine. She should be a Mortal Kombat character so that I can perform repeated fatalities on her.
A whiny special snowflake and a doormat sex-mad bunny boiler, together in love. Just kill me already.
The author commits the greatest authorial crime ever: she fails to make me care even a little about her story.
It is never about this book. It’s all about the next book, when Lyon Whatshisname finally faces the firing squad.
There are many dramatic moments here, and the romance is lost in there, somewhere.