Leisure, $5.99, ISBN 0-8439-4932-5
Historical Romance, 2001
Connie Mason is a New York Times bestseller now. Boy, there must be many Americans who really enjoy this author’s stuff. It must be danged fun living in the States, surely.
Anyway, her NYT bestseller status must have given Ms Mason a new lease of life. The Dragon Lord is what happens when your grandmother tries to be Susan Johnson. It opens with a skank-mistress boff scene (“Harder, Dragon. Oh, God, yes. Don’t stop.”) and it soon comes down to endless sex scenes and banana sucking and cream cake gorging. The “cock” word flies around as if chicken have suddenly acquired the power of flight. Plunge that cock! Suck that cock! Kiss that cock!
If I sound crass, well, The Dragon Lord is crass.
Alas, will I ever stop laughing at the hero’s name? What’s his name? Get ready, people.
His name is Dominic Dragon of Pendragon.
Somewhere over Avalon, Arthur the son of Pendragon must be holding up Excalibur like an extension of his middle finger at this insult.
He also has an Arab squire named Raj. Maybe Raj is an Indian orphan spirited to Arab right in time for the Crusades. Or something.
Dominic Dragon, after fishing his pendulous flying male chicken from his mistress, is summoned by King John who then demands that he wed one of the women kin of a recently executed lord. He will inherit the dead lord’s holdings, provided he marries either the widow or one of the twin daughters Rose or Starla. Starla must be a refugee from one of LoveSpell’s flop futuristic romance novels. Anyway, Starla is a timid one who just wants to enjoy the company of Jesus and the nuns, so Rose tricks Dragon into believing that she is the meek and biddable Starla. He marries Rose, and when her deception is revealed, he vows to make her pay, pay, pay…
Sex ensues. More sex. Dominic Dragon threatens to destroy a nunnery if they don’t do his bidding, and I believe I’m supposed to be in awe with his prowess. Dragon gives one complaining fellow a chicken or something, and Rose realizes what a wise ruler and lord he is. So she happily yummy-yum-yums on his male chicken part. Rose gets assaulted by her cousin. Dragon is mad at her because dang it, now his honor is tarnished. Bitch! Slut! Still, he decides that they are so good together, he boffs her some more. Sex, sex, sex.
The mistress makes an appearance – a complete shrew bitch she is, what a surprise! One of these days, maybe the Moses of Romance Novel Authoring will part the Red Sea and send out the edict to all romance authors: “Make ye mistresses complete harlots and ye make ye romance heroes braindead dongburrows in the process.” Dragon is a dumb slut.
Finally, the author remembers that she is writing a medieval romance and she ought to dust those History for First Grade books she kept in the attic and do some history thingie. Dragon is one of the prime forces in the country to force King John to sign the Magna Carta!
The whole world explodes in an apocalyptic cataclysm of incredulity.
On the bright side, the heroine Rose isn’t that dumb. On the dark side, Dragon is dumber than dumb, the plot is rubbish, and the silly sex is more rubbishy. Thus, primetime fun for those seeking good old-fashioned macabre and bizarre entertainment.
