This had the advantage of being different. Sadly, that's the only advantage.
If you're in need of an adjective CC has a few to spare.
I've wanted to read this book for ages. It's an A read on AAR, but under the author's American (publishing market) name Susan Johnson and with the title Forbidden. For some reason she's CC Gibbs on the Blighty Kindle and the book is Forbidden Pleasures. And I was so happy that, in fact, I could get this book on Kindle because: Native American lady lawyer, Daisy, meets late 19th century French Duc for erotic romance fun. On paper: interesting and different. And that AAR review is glowing.
So, perhaps this was a case of elevated expectations.
This was just: a whole load of no.
It doesn't start off badly. The Duc's character is pretty clearly and explicitly set out, as is Daisy's. They clash when they first meet and I expected a dance towards a relationship, particularly, when we discover that the Duc is already married. Some things bugged (the language is old fashioned, that is to say: you can tell this is a 1990s romance, the Duc has a "carnal paroxysm" before "pouring into he the moist interior of the voluptuous woman") but there was definite potential there.
And then, by 20% the're together andthey're in love and Meant To Be Together Forever and it all goes so very, very wrong.
And, all the things that bugged came roaring to the fore because there was nothing about the book to distract from them.
First amongst them: the writing.
"His broad shoulders swayed with the racing speed, but he held her firm prisoner of his passion and need, filling her entirely, the undulating motion of the speeding carriage creating a dizzyingly pleasurable friction.
"She nodded, a shiver of uncontrollable desire vibrating through her body as he touched his fingertip to his mouth, licking away a drop of her essence."
"The Duc felt an answering rush of pleasure course through his senses. She was, he thought, a woman of captivatingly varied parts: more natural than a country lass; as sophisticated as a queen; immodestly capable of holding her own in a man's profession; as beautiful as the most treasured sunrise from his childhood - and seductive... as orchids drenched with jungle rain seduced the eye and lured one's sensibilities."
Do you hear that? Listen closely now. No? That's because I'm silently screaming. This woman doesn't exist, first of all. But second of all: seductive as orchids drenched with jungle rain. Like: what. Really, what? Do they seduce the eye? I mean, I've seen them in Sainsburys after they've given them a watering and I've got to say: not seductive. But then that wasn't 'jungle rain', so perhaps that's the difference. That ellipsis, incidentally, isn't me omitting text: that's the Duc taking a moment, thinking and then coming up with that description. So in addition to making me think Daisy is an insufferable paragon of perfection, this paragraph also makes me think the Duc is an idiot.
Look, I could go on and on with these examples and rant and rant, but we'll move on.
The characters. They lose all of their edges. In Daisy's case she almost literally does, Gibbs actually says it, "'Yours,' Daisy whispered on a small caught breath, giving up the very core of her independent, soul without through or regret." Well, there was regret this side of the Kindle, Daisy, let me tell you. In this context the references back to Daisy's Native American heritage felt rather, exploitative, I suppose. Sort of shoehorned in as a way to assert that she's different and interesting but without any organic integration of those parts of her heritage and without them really impacting her actual actions. The Duc goes overnight from unrepentant rake, bored by woman, to loved up paragon of virtue comparing Daisy's seductiveness to wet plants.
It is extremely boring to read all about a couple in love when the external factors damaging their relationship aren't engaging. And here they were bloody dull. I'm as much of a historian as the next person with a history degree, but the hierarchical, Christian nature of the French judiciary in the late 19th century and the difficulty therefore of obtaining a divorce is the very definition of dull. To compound matters, the force exploiting those difficulties, the Duc's wife, is horribly characterized as a villainess woman without any nuance and constantly set against the heroine's perfect womanhood. So this 'conflict' is not only dull, it's irritating.
What you're left with is two perfect people, who both lose their interesting characteristics when they fall for one another, having luxurious meals, in idyllic houses on the Seine, drinking fabulous wine and bathing in glowing sunlight amidst soft fields of glistening green grass before having amazing euphemism, adjective-filled sex and then moaning periodically about how they can't be together. And then they do the same thing over again. But perhaps in a different idyllic house.
Suffice to say, it doesn't work. And I couldn't stick it out. DNF at 60% (in my defence, the book is loooong). Perhaps it picks up at the end but I'd lost all interest in the characters. And I'd just have been hate reading to guffaw at some of the excessive language on display.
If you like old fashioned romance writing, you might enjoy this. For everyone else: step away from the book.