To purchase this book, called "a worthwhile read (and nice change of pace)." ~ Long and Short Reviews, click HERE
If you like parodies, and funny romps through the 18th c., you'll enjoy my story where I poke fun at the tropes of romance novels. At least if you take it with a grain of salt.
I read many historical romance novels and usually found the formula, boy meets girl, they immediately fall in love, trouble ensues, but love and lust conquers all, contrived. I wanted to pen more believable stories, with long simmering attractions. But first, given the parodies of the popular Fifty Shades of Grey, I had to combine the usual tropes of this genre and have some fun.
Here is an excerpt: (Melwyn and Griffin are betrothed, but neither wants the match. He confronts her in the Vauxhall Gardens)
“How is your sojourn in London, my lady? A sudden urge to travel, had you?” Griffin smiled at the rising anger in her blue eyes.
“How dare you follow me, sir. And drag me into bushes.” Miss Pencavel pulled away from him, chin jutted out. “I told you my wishes in Cornwall. You have wasted your time if you’re here to change my mind.”
“Truth is, I did have business in town, so it’s not a total waste.” He rocked back on his heels, arms now behind his back. His actions were irrational, and totally alien to his usual demeanor. “You intrigue me, Miss Pencavel, such as a wasp might intrigue one. You wonder how close you may hover before being stung.”
He baited her, and enjoyed it. This slip of a girl provoked him, and that was disconcerting. Most females he understood as connivers or simpletons. Miss Pencavel appeared to be neither. Her eyes shone with an innate intelligence. Why had he followed her into the garden—while he had to admit that he’d searched for any sign of her in town—when he had little use for marriage? A wife like her would only get in his way.
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Thomas Rowlandson 1780s, "Entrance to Vauxhall Gardens" |
“I assure you, you will feel my sting.” She backed up a step and took another bite of her dessert. “You said cruel things about my mother. Even if they were true, you were still despicable.”
“I must apologize; I should have waited until I knew you better before being so straightforward.” He softened his words as a twig crackled under his buckled shoe. “But are you like your mother, partial to servants and other low-lifes?”
“I might be partial to whoever takes my fancy, a sailor, a groom, a particularly handsome nightsoil man.” She scrutinized him closely. “I’ve heard you have sinister inclinations, not that such things would bother me, being the free-thinking person I am, but I’d rather not be troubled with you.”
Griffin pondered what she really knew. He decided to deride her, to nudge her off-balance. He resisted the urge to brush a stray leaf from her cheek. “Are you already ruined, my girl, is that why you shy away?”
“I have been in various positions where I might have been ruined, but not in that compromising position I know nothing about, and you no doubt insinuate.” She licked her spoon, slowly.
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Many reviewers took offence at my fun-poking, but it was not meant to be taken seriously. My book club thought it hilarious.
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"Beer Street and Gin Lane" by William Hogarth 1751 |
Many reviewers took offence at my fun-poking, but it was not meant to be taken seriously. My book club thought it hilarious.
For more on me and my books, visit my BWL author's page
Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with one naughty dachshund.