Young Fleur's heart leaped at the sight of Maddocks plantation, surrounded by live oaks, its columns white in the sunlight. This would be her home. Its owner, her uncle Leo, would protect her. Jem Hayard, her handsome neighbor, would marry her. And all the black fold would be happy as her slaves...
But at Maddocks, she found only shelter--not protection. In Jem's embrace, she discovered lust--not love. And when she looked for happiness among the blacks, she saw only Garland. He was her slave, a man she owned, a man she burned to possess--but could not have.
Total garbage. 🦨 My one comfort is that the characters who didn’t die by the end will probably end up dead from the Civil War. Yay! It’s the little things that bring joy to our lives. 🎉🙃
In the interest of full disclosure, I only made it to 50% before skipping to the end. But I don’t care. I’m counting it as finished because I deserve something nice for wading that far into the shoddy dialogue & driveling weeds o’ crapola. (Nice cover, though. It doesn’t deserve to grace this poorly written tripe.)
NTS: Author is Richard Tresillian. Avoid any of his other stuff.
{Note: This book is part of my ongoing quest to pluck tomes I’ve had unread for 7+ years & either love-and-keep or DNF-and-donate.}