I read this book due to a dare and as we know, one cannot turn away from a dare.
I wish I could have.
This book is a piece of loosely historical (VERY loosely historical), supposedly romantic, fluff. For someone who likes history and hopes to like the characters in one's book, it is agonizing.
Plot: "Juliana" Romanov* (seriously, that name; I cannot get over it) is a Russian noblewoman whose family died in a massacre on their country estate. She flees to England for reasons that are entirely unclear, all while being in the company of a band of "gypsies." (At least the author occasionally refers to them as Roma.) While there, she bumps into none other than Henry VIII, the king of England (as you do), and he commands a noble with marriage-market problems to marry her (because why not). Naturally, the noble, Stephen, rapidly falls in love with her, all while agonizing over his own past (a dead wife and kids, etc).
The book follows a clear formula: Exotic gypsy tropes (Juliana is seductive and compelling while performing in a troupe), a king bent on droit du seigneur (don't ask), magical maternal qualities in all women, insta-love, and at the risk of spoilers, a blatantly obvious villain and the happy ever after you'd expect. None of these are too shocking in a slightly historical very-much-romance book, but the book doesn't offer anything good alongside these cliches. It isn't interesting, entertaining, and it certainly isn't really historical. (The historian in me hurts from this book.)
All in all, I was very glad when I finished the book, and I will try to avoid dares every again.