Sarah Mac’s Reviews > A Governess to Redeem Him > Status Update
Sarah Mac
is on page 18 of 272
THIS OVERWRITING. ‘What mattered was putting an end to this hellish farce, & had she not been driven so close to the brink these past weeks, perhaps her famed rational mind might’ve averted her to the dangers of this pursuit, only it had truly abandoned her, & so, on she went. Until finally, as the figure reached the edge of the loch, he stopped; the water fiercely lapping at the toes of his boots…’ ….😒
— Mar 27, 2026 03:50PM
5 likes · Like flag
Sarah Mac’s Previous Updates
Sarah Mac
is on page 40 of 272
This author really needs to DIAL BACK on the italicized EMPHASIS of certain words & phrases…not to mention the ELLIPSES, of which there are SO MANY that keep trailing off…I don’t like being TOLD…what I’m supposed to notice, because I have a brain that functions, thank you VERY MUCH, & it’s just very annoying to read, because…
— Mar 28, 2026 02:22AM
Sarah Mac
is on page 22 of 272
‘Sebastian stared out into the tenebrous mire of nothingness beyond the fire-tinted glass, a mire he couldn’t see, yet which remained infinitely preferable to staring at Juliana’s unconscious form.’ ….Tenebrous mire of nothingness? TENEBROUS MIRE OF NOTHINGNESS?? 💀 Go directly to purple-prose jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
— Mar 27, 2026 04:17PM
Sarah Mac
is starting
Starting over. Hopefully it was just my mood last time I tried to read this. 🫣
— Mar 27, 2026 03:15PM
Sarah Mac
is on page 23 of 272
‘The memories, no matter how he attempted to cast them away, clung to him like imps, reminding him of those precious few mornings, when she’d awoken thus, & he’d been beside her, to feel her warmth, & smell… jasmine, apple blossoms, the first dew of the morn, & the southern breeze of freedom.’
— Jun 11, 2025 09:14PM
Oh, & another sample describing the storm as she’s running through it: ‘ENOUGH, her mind screamed, propelling her on, fumbling first w/ the key, then w/ the handle. Onwards, out into the worsening storm, which lashed her w/ pelts of brittle ice, gentle snow, & thick rain. Out into the sloping garden, through the gales threatening to knock her down. She was frozen w/in seconds, drenched, numb, & in pain, yet still she moved, onwards, chasing the shadowed figure as it hurried away. *I cannot continue thus,* she cried, silently, her tears freezing on her cheeks, or blowing away w/ the precipitation.’ ….I mean. Damn. 🫣 I’m accustomed to dramatic gothic prose (& even love it much of the time), but this feels beyond the pale.