I went into this fully braced for peak bodice-ripper disaster and somehow came out… weirdly entertained but also mildly annoyed and occasionally exhausted.
We’ve got:
╰┈➤ a 17 y/o heroine, Angelica Rodrigo, poor, alone, and working as a maid in Mexico
╰┈➤ a brooding Anglo hero, Gareth Dawson, who has sworn never to marry because Daddy’s marriage was a mess
╰┈➤ prostitution threats, brothels, mines, violence, captivity, forced proximity, and more melodrama per page than three Ekta Kapoor serials combined
The setup actually slaps. Poor girl in a rough mining town, driven to desperate choices. Hero haunted by his past, determined to avoid emotional entanglement, then blindsided by an inconvenient Mexican angel. I was ready for angst, grit, and some level of emotional payoff.
What I got instead was:
╰┈➤ 555 pages of every single old-school trope thrown at the wall
╰┈➤ pacing that lurches from nothing is happening except internal monologue and dust to five life-altering events in ten pages
╰┈➤ a heroine who manages to be both resilient and deeply, frustratingly passive whenever the plot needs her to suffer more
Angelica is the kind of FMC who keeps getting pushed into terrible situations because the author clearly decided “what else awful can I do to her?” as a plotting strategy. She does have a spine, she fights, she resists, she defies, but the universe (and the author) repeatedly punishes her for it. She’s “defiant” mostly in the sense that she keeps emotionally surviving what men and society do to her, not because she actually gets to steer her own fate in any meaningful way until very late.
Gareth… works better as a concept than as a lived experience across 500+ pages. He’s your standard “I don’t believe in love, I just take mistresses” hero who then spends the rest of the book proving why he should probably not be in charge of any woman’s life or feelings. You can see Barbieri trying to give him layers: his father’s disastrous marriage, his determination not to repeat it, his attraction to Angelica conflicting with his fear of commitment, but the execution is patchy. Half the time he’s compelling; half the time you want to throw his angst down a mine shaft.
Their romance is a slow-burn in the sense that it burns, stalls, rekindles, gets buried under misunderstandings, and then limps to a resolution. There are moments where the emotional intensity lands... quiet scenes where the class, race, and power differences are acknowledged and they actually talk rather than yell or storm off. But those scenes are constantly interrupted by plot interruptions: attacks, villains, brothel danger, family drama, etc. It’s like the book is afraid to let them be together on-page without external chaos.
By the time the HEA rolls around, I believed they could make it work, but I also felt like they needed a long vacation away from mines, men with guns, and the word “mistress.”