So far, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by Mimi Matthews. She tends to write clean, interesting romances that aren’t irritating.
Her books are perfect for when you want to drop a romance bomb on your reading life. Romance with a capital R. Her books are decently clean. For example, in this one, there are bedroom scenes between a husband and wife, and even though they’re steamy, they’re not spicy or explicit. In fact, it’s sweet to see the marital bed depicted in a positive light.
What I’m saying is that the romantic relationship is the point of the book. There are side characters and some light subplots, but the two main love interests get the spotlight. There’s a dab of suspense and intrigue. This keeps things interesting and allows external forces to put pressure on the romance and test it.
Most of the action, however, happens internally. Our main character, Philly, is great with wounded animals. That’s why she feels drawn to Captain Heyward (which made me think of Sanditon every time I heard it). The Captian was traumatized in battle and sustained injuries that resulted in lifelong handicaps. Philly is just the girl to make him feel safe. It’s your classic Beauty and the Beast setup—the beast isn’t lovable until he is loved. Philly has a less dramatic arc. She grows stronger and more confident in the face of the girl-bullies who try to cow her, and she becomes a tad more worldly wise to wicked people who hide their true selves.
What I appreciate most about Mimi Matthews is that she doesn’t throw unbelievable or exasperating things at her lovers to keep them apart. A pet peeve of mine is when an author overuses a misunderstanding or presumption to throw an obstacle in the way of love. If the two people would just talk about it, they’d resolve it in one beat. But no, this one unspoken belief keeps them apart for 30 chapters. That gets old fast. In this book, there are many misunderstandings, but the characters clear them up quickly and move on. This is much more satisfying.
Honestly, this all makes for a solid book. It’s not the most amazing story, but it WILL hit the spot if you need to satisfy a Jane Austen craving with some quick sugar.
I loved Bleak House, but I think I just might love this one more. This book is about what it means to be truly free and happy.
Amy Dorrit was born in the Marshalsea prison for debt. Her father was once a prosperous gentleman, but now he’s imprisoned for life. Amy, the youngest and smallest of her siblings, quietly and devotedly manages things so they can all survive.
One day, when Amy is 21, a 40-year-old man named Arthur Clennam comes on the scene, and he’s a friend to her and her family. He plays a key role in making a discovery that leads them out of the Marshalsea and restores all their former fortune and then some. The Dorrits go from a literal prison to a metaphorical one (London high society). Meanwhile, Clennam falls upon hard times and there’s a reversal of fortunes. But wait, there’s another twist.
Amy and Arthur’s story is just one fraction of the book. There is a huge cast of characters who are all trying to break free from something. What does it mean to be truly free in body, mind and soul? Some characters are imprisoned by expectations, by guilt, by vice, by emotion (romantic love in particular). It is so beautifully rendered and woven together. It’s far too complex to write about here, but I thoroughly enjoyed steeping in this theme for a month.
As is always the case with Charles Dickens, his antidote is Christian love. Even though Dickens was a flawed man who made a lot of mistakes, he writes so clearly about the power of Christian morals and ethics to bring true freedom and happiness.
I highly recommend the audiobook narrated by Juliet Stevenson. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it half so much if I’d read it in print. I also highly recommend watching the BBC miniseries first, as it’s shockingly faithful to the original.
Now, some quotes:
Regarding Mrs. Clennam: Verily, verily, travellers have seen many monstrous idols in many countries; but no human eyes have ever seen more daring, gross, and shocking images of the Divine nature than we creatures of the dust make in our own likenesses, of our own bad passions. Ch. 30
Regarding Arthur and Amy: Looking back upon his own poor story, she was its vanishing-point. Every thing in its perspective led to her innocent figure. He had travelled thousands of miles towards it; previous unquiet hopes and doubts had worked themselves out before it; it was the centre of the interest of his life; it was the termination of everything that was good and pleasant in it; beyond, there was nothing but mere waste and darkened sky. Ch 27
For we all know how we all deceive ourselves—that is to say, how people in general, our profounder selves excepted, deceive themselves—as to motives of action. Ch. 13
Be so good as to say nothing that goes beyond what is said among us. If you keep within our bounds, you cannot well be wrong. Ch. 8
It is enough that she was inspired to be something which was not what the rest were, and to be that something, different and laborious, for the sake of the rest. Inspired? Yes. Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life! Ch. 7
Crushed at first by his imprisonment, he had soon found a dull relief in it. He was under lock and key; but the lock and key that kept him in, kept numbers of his troubles out. If he had been a man with strength of purpose to face those troubles and fight them, he might have broken the net that held him, or broken his heart; but being what he was, he languidly slipped into this smooth descent, and never more took one step upward. Ch. 6
This quick Christmas romance brings second-chance love with You’ve Got Mail vibes
It’s not often you read a holiday rom-com about an estranged wife and husband getting back together, but that’s what happens here. Our protagonist, Fern Gale, is the town recluse. She lives in a gorgeous house in a small town, but ever since her mom died four years ago (and her husband abandoned her) she has been filling it with antiques with vague notions of selling them at some point. Maybe. She’s aimless and alone.
When a pipe freezes and bursts in her historic house, she calls the only person who knows where the water shut-off is buried under the new-fallen snow—her ex. They haven’t spoken in four years. Now what?
This is a simple, sweet book that will make you smile and get you into the holiday spirit. The only thing I wanted to know more about is why Fern’s husband left and stayed MIA for so long. I understand generally why, but I wanted there to be a bigger “last straw” that sent him packing and justified the years-long estrangement.
This was solid Christian historical fiction with a heavy helping of romance. You’ll like this book if you enjoy Francine Rivers.
This book is titled The Pesant King, referring to Cyrus, the historical leader. But the book isn’t about him as much as it’s about a young Jewish woman and a half-Jewish, half-Gentile young man and the people associated with them. They find themselves wrapped up in the warring of nations, and they do great deeds to influence the outcomes. Not in the background but very much in the forefront, they fall in love.
Like I said, this was solid. I enjoyed it, and there was plenty of action. I wasn’t crazy about it. I feel like it might’ve been a good book at the wrong time for me. I did feel like the book needed one more editing pass. Just a few nuances of wording, repeated words, etc. that jarred me.
How big of a role does the romance play? Big. It’s not spicy or distasteful at all, but it’s the driving force behind the story for sure. The good news is that there’s a lot going on in the background behind the romance—plenty to keep things interesting!
If you love Hallmark (or GAF) movies, then you’ll adore this short, sweet book. Blackstock uses dual narrators. We’ve got Finn, the crabby cabby (a cab driver with a bad attitude) and Sydney the stressed-out lawyer who needs to win a no-win case in order to keep her job. No pressure, Syd.
So, fun fact. In her author’s note, Blackstock describes how she was sitting in the waiting room at her actual doctor’s office when a man wheeled in an elderly lady and then headed toward the door. She asked if he was just going to leave her, and he responded: “Lady, I’m just the cab driver.” That was her inspiration for this book.
Finn gets a call to take elderly and disoriented Callie to the doctor. Who hires a cab to take Grammy to her appt?? Well, it turns out that Sydney does—on a day when she must attend an important work meeting or risk getting fired. That gets the ball rolling, and it’s sweet as figgy pudding front to back.
Callie is spicy and determined to get her way, no matter how sick she is. Finn is prickly on the outside and jello on the inside. Sydney looks like a successful attorney, but she’s broke and hanging on by a thread.
Worldview means a LOT to me when I’m reading a light book like this one, especially a romance. Why read a candy book if the author is saying things about life and love that you can’t stand? I can tell that Blackstock and I share a lot of the same beliefs, and it’s great to see those reflected here. I didn’t have to cringe at anything…you might, but I didn’t. There are a few moments that some people will find politically incorrect, but I actually agree with the author on most things, so I, uh, mentally high-fived her when I read those bits.
Blackstock is a Christian author, but this book does a great job of not getting preachy. There is no contrived altar call moment. We see both Finn and Sydney rethink their spiritual lives, going from dormancy to just waking up. They are on the brink of starting something good with Jesus, but the book isn’t about that. It’s a side effect of their interactions with Callie.
More twists and turns than a cinnamon roll, and a masterpiece of suspense
This book has the “train wreck” quality, where every scene has you biting your nails, saying oh no, oh no, oh no. And it’s not because it’s high on action. In fact, most of the action takes place in relatively serene settings indoors, such as parlor rooms, dining rooms, and bedrooms. People talking, with only one fist-punch that I can remember. But it’s the escalation that had me hooked, hoping for a good outcome for the shy, insecure narrator.
This book is carefully crafted, swathed in atmosphere, and bursting with symbols and meaningful details. It’s a literary banquet. It’s hard to review the book without spoiling anything.
For a long time, I thought this book might be too scary for me. I thought it was more of a ghost story with paranormal whatsits flying around, but no. Even though there are eerie aspects, it wasn’t scary. And if I wasn’t scared, then nobody gonna be scared because I’m a wuss.
Even though this is a rather slim review (to avoid spoilers) you can grab my Rebecca book club guide and get everything you need to enjoy this classic.
Opposites attract. Big time. Romance Above All Else.
Oh, Mimi Matthews! She’s one of the queens of period romance. This is NOT what I’d call a naughty little nugget—it was clean—but the romance was laid thick.
I picked it because I needed a quick win after The Shell Seekers, and this came free with Audible Plus.
I will say this. The book is short, and it gets straight to the point. “You here for romance?” Mimi asks. You nod enthusiastically! She doesn’t make you wait even one page to get things started. Hero and heroine meet right away, and it’s off to the races from there. It’s one neat little package.
Besides romance, there’s not much here. Both Valentine (heroine) and St. Ashton (hero) have personal issues to deal with, but they play second fiddle to the romance.
Valentine is a vicar’s daughter, and she’s sweet and innocent, but she also has a blurry past. St. Ashton is a notorious ladies’ man with dubious morals. The morals praised by the book are (by and large) good. Some characters behave badly, but this is never condoned. I was happy with the standards the book set for female-male relationships and what’s okay and not.
How spicy is this, exactly? It’s a closed-door romance with 3/5 jalapeno peppers worth of spice. But I also wouldn’t call it chaste. There’s closeness and kissing, and a lot of it. Okay for a teenager? Yes, an older teen. How cringey is it? I’d say 3/5 on the cheese scale. One of the author’s strengths is that she can write these crazy romances without making you feel foolish for reading them.
A reimagining of The Little Mermaid that’s worth finishing all the way to the end
This is a romantic YA retelling of The Little Mermaid, with a gender reversal. The first half of the book was a tad slow for me, but the second half sped nicely along.
In the original HCA story, the little mermaid is a girl, and she falls in love with a human prince. In this retelling, it’s a merman and a human princess. The author adds some backstory. There was a war between the people of the deep and the people of the land, and in order to restore peace, the people of the air imposed a “silence.” No mer-person can break the surface without perishing, and any human who plunges into the ocean risks getting pulled below and drowned.
So, how are our two kids going to fall in love? Well, the first half of the book answers that question, and the second half depicts everything in the world trying to tear them apart. Hoyle does a great job of keeping the stakes high, which is important because the plot points closely follow HCA’s, so most of us have a good guess as to what happens next. With much higher stakes and a much sweeter romance than in the original, this story is actually more entertaining.
Hoyle threw in some great plot twists in the second half that left me so glad that I finished! I was a tad under the weather when I was reading the first half, so it was hard for me to concentrate and stay awake…mostly due to congestion and fatigue, lol. But I’m glad I pushed through because I read the second half in a single night. Yee-ah.
Wow, this was long. Too long. I bought the audiobook a while back when Chirp offered it on sale, and when I saw that Haley Atwell narrated it, I was sold. Atwell is a British actress, and her voice was spot-on perfect for this story. I loved her performance. I wish I could say the same for the story.
The positives:
This book feels luxurious and lush, so if you want to revel in sights, sounds, smells, and textures, this book delivers big-time. The descriptions suck you in, and before you know it, you’re physically experiencing another time and place. This is Pilcher’s strength, nay, superpower. She is a gorgeous writer. The protagonist, Penelope, even discusses the concept of “luxury” near the end of the book, and there’s this thematic question of luxury vs. comfort vs. privation, both physically and emotionally, and this was a discussion that I can appreciate.
The book is character-driven, and there is a colorful mix of characters. By far, the best mix is Penelope and her adult children, with whom she doesn’t connect. This discord makes the scenes between Penelope and her kids the best of the book. It seems like everyone else gets along too well…sees things similarly…and this was too serene for so long a book. For example, when Penelope discovers she’s going to have a baby out of wedlock, everyone in her life is incredibly supportive. It would’ve been much more interesting if someone, anyone, had put up some fireworks—at least there would’ve opened the door for a nuanced picture of Penelope’s predicament. But overall, the characters are good.
The negatives:
There are so many intertwining storylines that it’s hard to know what you’re supposed to care about. This book reminds me of Anna Karenina—a deep dive into the interpersonal relationships and inner lives of a handful of people at a specific place and time in history. That’s exactly what The Shell Seekers is. But, like Anna Karenina, the plot is meandering and slow. Pilcher slows WAY down, describing things in such minute detail that I got distracted and a little impatient. Why does this matter? She’s moving so slowly, it’s got to have some significance…but it doesn’t.
Also, this is an adultery story. I cannot express how much I dislike adultery stories. And this one largely condones the adultery. Most of the characters give the adulterous relationship a huge thumbs-up. This robbed the story of the conflict inherent in such morally fraught actions, nor does it challenge the reader to think about something like adultery from many angles (like Anna Karenina does).
At the end of the day, what frustrated me most was that I couldn’t condone the morals that the story praises, by and large. The writing is 5 stars, but the story was much more like 2, which evens out to three. So, there you go.
Content warnings: Characters commit adultery and have sex outside of marriage, and this is largely condoned. Nothing is graphically portrayed, and the romance is tastefully written, but morally disappointing.
Two sisters with wildly different temprements fall in love with men they can’t have
This book contains some of Austen’s all-time best dialogue. So many double meanings, so much dramatic irony. I will say, though, that this novel gets off to a rather slow start. I’d forgotten how long it takes for things to really get rolling. But the story just keeps getting better and better as it flows along.
I’m a total sucker for strong theme, and this book has it—it’s right there in the title. Just like Pride and Prejudice. You’ve got two sisters who embody two extremes of temperament. Eleanor is all sense, and Marianne is all sensibility. Austen shows us the upsides and downsides of each, ultimately praising both in moderation.
In the BBC miniseries from the 2000s, there is a very cringey scene in which Brandon and Willoughby duel with pistols on a foggy morning. I always mocked this scene up and down, saying, “That never happened in the book.” But I was so dead wrong! When Brandon confides in Eleanor, he mentions in veiled language that a duel did take place. So, there you go. Duels do happen in Austen.
What happens when a selfish lord decides to help a poor family get a foothold in London society? Rrrrrrrromance! (Roll the “R.”)
This was delightful. Georgette Heyer is often described as the inventor of the regency romance genre when she started publishing novels like this one back in the ’20s. This book is like Jane Austen with antics, haha.
Frederica is determined to see her drop-dead gorgeous younger sister, Charis, have one London season. That’s all she needs to make a comfortable match with a gentleman. Since Frederica lost both her parents and has long been in charge of her younger siblings, it’s up to her to make this happen for Charis.
Frederica appeals to a distant cousin, Lord Alverstroke, who agrees to help her (at first) only to needle his bothersome sisters. But then, Alverstroke realizes that Frederica might just be his kind of gal. Romance ensues.
This book is CUTE. Clean romance. Regency period. Sparkling morals. Sweet to the bone. But, unlike Jane Austen, this isn’t all quiet action in parlor rooms and gardens and country estates. Here, we mix with people of all classes. We have adventures—barking dogs, hot air balloons, steamers!
The only critique I have (and it’s a small one) is that the writing can be clumsy to read at times. It’s not seamless. I found myself halting through some passages, especially those thick with period slang and colloquialisms. Also, Heyer uses exclamation marks with zero hesitation!!! Haha.
The next time I read a Heyer novel, I’d like to listen on audio. I bet that would be even better.
Side note: I can’t believe that filmmakers haven’t picked up on Heyer yet. Instead of making bad adaptations of Jane Austen, they could pick ANY Georgette Heyer novel and run with it.
Content warnings: None. The romance is as clean as it gets.
Deep in the Russian mountains, two peasants discover a magical realm. But will this power bring good fortune or bad?
This book hit the spot. I loved it, and I thought it was even better than The Arrow and the Crown. The dual protagonists were lovable. The villains were mysterious and not made of cardboard. I also loved the supporting cast.
This book is based on a fairy tale that I’m not familiar with, so, for me, it read like a story set in a fairy tale world. It didn’t feel strange or contrived in any way, which sometimes happens with a retelling when you aren’t familiar with the source. You don’t NEED to know the source story to enjoy this one.
This is a sweet romance, too! Perfect for teens who want clean, mature romance. No spice, just heart.
I’m very much looking forward to Emma C. Fox’s next book!
Don’t confuse this with Walter Tevis’s chess novel. It’s completely different.
I adored The Q, so I’m making Beth Brower’s books a priority. This one is far less complex (and much shorter) than The Q, but it’s still a worthy read, especially if you love character-driven royal dramas with lots of politics.
The bountiful land of Aemogen is a self-contained country that has little to do with the surrounding nations. When Imirillia, a battle-hardened nation to the north, declares war on the soft Aemogen people, the queen, Eleanor, must figure out how to ready her peaceful farmers for war against a foe that is more numerous and skilled than they can ever hope to be. It’s like The Shire vs. Mordor.
She finds unexpected help when Wil Traveler, a wandering soldier, arrives at court. Asking him to train her troops is a gamble, but she takes the risk.
This book moved slowly, without too much high action. This first installment in the series is more about establishing character dynamics, which, I’m sure set the stage for the second and third books. The characters are good—flawed and riddled with issues. There is also a lot of worldbuilding to clue us in on the traditions and ethos of the two warring nations. I think this is important to know going in.
There’s also a slow-burn romance that is not cheesy. Executing a romantic subplot without cheese on top is no small feat, but I love the way Beth Brower approaches it. You can hand this to any teenager without fear. It’s clean as a whistle without feeling sanitized.
This book doesn’t provide a ton of closure at the end. It doesn’t completely satisfy as a standalone book. The external plot wraps up, but the internal plot is just getting started, so you do feel compelled to read the next book. That’s also important to know going in.
I’m notorious for reading the first book in a series and never continuing. But, I might just keep going with this YA medieval adventure!
This book wins the award for Cutest Romance That Isn’t Cutesie
It was a slow start, but once I got my mental bearings, I was hooked.
The reason that this book started a TAD slow for me is because the author throws a lot at you right away. There’s a deep cast of secondary characters, and there are businesses, locations, and other things that can cause some early “who’s who?-type” confusion. But just push through that, and you’ll be glad you did.
Set in a fictional European city in the late 1800s, the story opens with Quincy St. Claire, owner of The Q, a newspaper that consists entirely of reader-submitted questions. Kind of like the Classifieds, but anything goes. She’s a brilliant businesswoman with a fiercely independent spirit. Quincy doesn’t need anyone or anything in her life except The Q. It’s her meat and drink.
She works for her uncle, who owns The Q. When he dies, his will states that Quincy can’t inherit The Q unless she meets a set of 12 requirements. The catch? She can’t know what the requirements are. The only person who knows (and who will determine if she meets them) is The Q’s lawyer, Mr. Arch.
Quincy and Arch are tossed together a lot due to this “requirement business,” and they combine like oil and water. Their tart banter is a highlight of this book. Ever so slowly, Arch gets Quincey to open up, and she does NOT want to do this. She prefers accounts, data, and machinery. People are way too unpredictable—not a smart investment.
So, you can see where it’s going, but the journey is worth every page. This is a LONG 500+ page book, and Beth Brower doesn’t rush Quincy’s transformation. Thus, we as readers do feel like we’ve made a big investment in this St. Claire woman, and we want to see how things turn out for her.
Overall, this was a great book that I’d recommend to anyone who loves Jane Austen but with way more sass.
Oh boy, I’m a sucker for a Regency romance, and this one came on my radar when I learned that Sarah Eden crowdfunded enough money to have this made into a film. That’s impressive. My library had it, so I thought I’d read it.
This is a loose retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth. You’ve got Adam, a duke, who is fearsome and solitary and self-conscious about his scarred face. Then, you have Persephone, who is young and lively and completely devoted to her father and siblings. The result is a classic Opposites Attract story with heavy Beauty and the Beast overtones.
Adam and Persephone agree to marry, sight unseen, each for their own reasons, and they have a bear of a time getting along.
There were times when the Hades and Persephone myth was too on the nose for my taste, but it was neat to see how Eden translated different elements of the myth into the Regency era.
These stories rely on misunderstandings in order to keep the lovers apart, and there were plenty of them here. Adam and Persephone are strangers when they marry, and neither of them will speak plainly or open up. This book almost reached my personal threshold of tolerance for miscommunications, but it wasn’t bad.
In fact, I devoured this book in just a couple of days. It was a quick, wholesome and enjoyable read.
How spicy is the romance? Like three out of five jalapeno peppers. I thought the romance was one of the most tasteful I’ve read. It didn’t feel cheesy, which is impressive. I truly believed that they were falling in love because they wanted to—not because the author told them to. 😊
What would happen to a fairy tale princess if she were simply ordinary?
This book came with my homeschool curriculum. I didn’t think my 7- and 8-year-old boys would be interested, so I swapped this one with The Secret Garden, which they loved. That didn’t stop me from reading this tiny book for myself, though.
My copy came with a preface by the author, and I’m glad I didn’t skip it. She says that after going on a fairy-tale-reading-spree, she realized that most of the princesses fit a certain model—beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, and graceful. This is only to be expected in fairy tales, right? But, the author, like so many before and after her, wondered how the story might change if the princess in question were ordinary. She said that she sat under a tree and wrote the whole thing by hand in one sitting.
This book isn’t exactly a retelling of any single tale (that I can think of). It nods mightily to Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, but it’s not a spinoff. It stars Amy, the seventh and youngest daughter of a noble kingdom, and she’s cursed with ordinariness.
Because she’s nothing special to look at, the king and queen can’t marry her off. Amy becomes so weary of the endless string of suitors who arrive, take one look at her, and then awkwardly contrive early departures. So, she must figure something out—and that something is her future.
The curse turns into a blessing. Amy learns the virtues of independent thought, hard work, and healthy physical exertion out of doors, all of which (come to think of it) line up neatly with The Secret Garden.
This book is short and takes a tongue-in-cheek approach to fairy tales, mildly mocking them. It reminds me of About the Sleeping Beauty by P. L. Travers. It’s long been fashionable to recast these timeless tales to suit modern tastes, pointing out how sexist and violent the originals are, and aren’t we much better in this day and age? But, we’re not better, and it does no good to scoff at folklore, myth, and fairy tales. But it’s okay to look at them and wonder why. Wonder how and if. What else are they for if not that?
When a young woman in regency-era England is forced to flee home, where will she turn?
This is the second Julie Klassen book that I’ve DNFed since the beginning of the year. I tried listening to Castaway in Cornwall on audio first, and then I got bored at the 35 percent mark. I decided to start this one, and I find that I’m forcing myself to go back to the audiobook…I have no desire to continue, so I’m going to just stop.
I don’t know if it’s the audio format or if it’s just not the right time for a regency romance. The books aren’t bad, but I think they’re lacking the conflict and emotion that I’m craving right now.
There are times when a relatively sedate and buttoned-up story is just the ticket. But, that’s falling flat for me at the moment.
Not giving up on you, Jules! I’ll be back.
Content warnings: Nothing graphic, but there was one scene when a man made unwanted advances toward the protagonist, and she got away.
This is my second Georgette Heyer novel, and I went into it blind. I enjoyed this old-timey Regency romance for the most part, although there was a saggy bit in the beginning-middle, which I pushed through, and I’m glad I did. This book illustrates the age-old truth: you don’t know what you got till it’s gone.
The first few chapters race along because the setup is superfun: A rich, young, and hunky lord decides (on a whim) to marry a childhood friend of his. She’s young, like 16, and he’s not much older, like early 20s. They don’t love each other, but they’re chums. They’re marrying for convenience. The Viscount Sherry gets his full inheritance bestowed upon him when he marries, and our sweet young heroine (aptly named Hero) agrees to be his wife to avoid the woeful fate of becoming a governess.
After they get married, Hero proves that she has no idea how to be a proper lady, but Sherry can’t be bothered to teach her. They are both so young, and they just wanna have fu-un. Sherry is a bit of a wild boy, flirting and gaming. Hero is a fun-loving, ready-for-anything teenager.
The beginning-middle of the book shows Sherry having to clean up after Hero’s many social fumbles—taking the grownup role for the first time in his life. Hero realizes how much she loves Sherry, but Sherry is oblivious to this. Hero wonders if he regrets marrying her, and she never asks him, so she’s left to stress over it.
The book title probably comes from the traditional poem “Monday’s Child.” According to the poem, Friday’s child is “loving and giving,” and that is exactly what Hero is. She is not an Amazon or a Matriarch or any power-archetype. She’s entirely at Sherry’s mercy, yet, through her love and goodness, she saves him.
Sherry is not—ahem—politically correct, shall we say. This whole book, in fact, is delightfully incorrect in so many ways. Sherry is flawed. He doesn’t appreciate Hero and treats her like a possession. His nickname for her is “Kitten”—barf! Even after his transformation, he’s not exactly fighting for her right to be prime minister or anything like that. But he does teach her to drive, so there’s that.
