Julie James
About That Night
Berkley / April 3, 2012 / $7.99 print & digital

Though Rylann Pierce tried to fight the sparks she felt for billionaire heir Kyle Rhodes the night they met, their sizzling chemistry was undeniable. But after being stood up on their first date, Rylann never expected to see him again. So when she finds herself face to face with Kyle in a courthouse nine years later, she’s stunned. More troubling to the beautiful Assistant U.S. Attorney is that she’s still wildly attracted to him.

Just released from prison, Kyle Rhodes isn’t thrilled to be the star witness in a high-profile criminal case — but when Rylann comes knocking at his door, he finds she may be the one lawyer he can’t say no to. Still as gorgeous and sharp-tongued as ever, she lays down the law: she doesn’t mix business with pleasure. But Kyle won’t give up on something he wants — and what he wants is the one woman he’s never forgotten.

At its best, romantic comedy is a genre in which the protagonists, realistically drawn adults who are equals in mind, body, and spirit (although not always in social status) meet, engage in quips and ripostes, encounter obstacles (often their own confusion), and ultimately understand that the other is the right person for him/her. Sexual tension may be prevalent, but the relationship is not about sex; it’s about resolving conflicts and moving to a happy union of the lovers. This is the pattern of Beatrice and Benedick’s relationship in Shakespeare’s  Much Ado About Nothing. It is the pattern of classic romantic comedy films such as It Happened One Night. It’s also the pattern of About That Night, the third book in Julie James’s FBI/U. S. Attorney series.

[So, about that night—what did happen?]

Eloisa James
Paris in Love: A Memoir
Random House/April 3, 2012/ $26.00 print, $12.99 digital

In 2009, New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James took a leap that many people dream about: she sold her house, took a sabbatical from her job as a Shakespeare professor, and moved her family to Paris. Paris in Love: A Memoir chronicles her joyful year in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

With no classes to teach, no committee meetings to attend, no lawn to mow or cars to park, Eloisa revels in the ordinary pleasures of life—discovering corner museums that tourists overlook, chronicling Frenchwomen’s sartorial triumphs, walking from one end of Paris to another. She copes with her Italian husband’s notions of quality time; her two hilarious children, ages eleven and fifteen, as they navigate schools—not to mention puberty—in a foreign language; and her mother-in-law Marina’s raised eyebrow in the kitchen (even as Marina overfeeds Milo, the family dog).

Paris in Love invites the reader into the life of a most enchanting family, framed by la ville de l’amour.

Eloisa James’s memoir is, as the title indicates, a book about Paris, or at least about Paris as experienced by one American family during a sabbatical year spent in that city. It is filled with vignettes of the city’s landmarks, museums, and restaurants and of its homeless, its school children, its shop keepers. The memoir, again as suggested by the title, is also about love—love of family, friends, food, and fashion (in both the specific and larger senses of that word), as well as love of the city itself. It is, less obviously, a book about time—time spent, time wasted, and time cherished.

[Love and time—tackling the big stuff, huh?...]

More than a decade ago, Jennifer Crusie argued that romance is a genre that both depends upon the tradition of fairy tale narratives and demands the revision of the traditional stories (“This Is Not Your Mother’s Cinderella: The Romance Novel as Feminist Fairy Tale” in Romantic Conventions). Both the dependence and the revision continue to hold true as romance writers mine fairy tale narratives for story material. Some writers borrow elements and motifs without actually reshaping the tales into new versions of traditional material. One scholar suggests these borrowings might more accurately be called “fairy-tale pastiches.” I find more interesting the novels that actually re-view the tales and work within the tradition to create a story that clearly draws upon the original but adds revisions that accommodate the tale to contemporary sensibilities. Among the best of the reworkings of the fairy tale in romance fiction are Charming the Prince and The Bride and the Beast by Teresa Medeiros and An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn.

In Charming the Prince (1999), Medeiros incorporates elements of the traditional Cinderella tale while gently mocking others. The heroine, Lady Willow of Bedlington, has not two step-sisters, but rather a horde of step-siblings added to the family when her father remarried and half-siblings who have increased the size of the family. Willow adds nanny-in-charge of her savage siblings to the maid-of-all-work role of the original. Lacking a fairy godmother, she must rely on her own initiative and spirit to change her situation. When the hero’s emissary conducts a search for the bride his lord is determined to have, it is not the beauty Willow possesses in ample measure that catches his eye and offers her the opportunity to escape domestic service to her unappreciative family but rather the fact that at deceptive first glance she appears to be a plain, plump, competent caretaker of unruly children.

[Appearances can be deceiving...]

Miranda Neville
Confessions from an Arranged Marriage (Burgundy Club, Book 4)
Avon/March 27, 2012/$7.99 pb, $4.99 digital

In London after a two-year exile, Lord Blakeney plans to cut a swathe through the bedchambers of the demimonde. Marriage is not on his agenda, especially to an annoying chit like Minerva Montrose, with her superior attitude and a tendency to get into trouble. And certainly the last man Minerva wants is Blake, a careless wastrel without a thought in his handsome head.

The heat and noise of her debutante ball give Minerva a migraine. Surely a moment’s rest could do no harm ... until Blake mistakes her for another lady, leaving Minerva’s guests to catch them in a very compromising position. To her horror, the scandal will force them to do the unthinkable: marry. Their mutual loathing blazes into unexpected passion but Blake remains distant, desperate to hide a shameful secret. Minerva’s never been a woman to take things lying down, and she’ll let nothing stop her from winning his trust ... and his heart.

I view the opposites-attract trope in romance fiction with trepidation. While I appreciate that the conflict in such stories will be strong and organic, too often the book leaves me doubting whether reconciliation between such different people is possible and concluding that once the fires of desire burn low the H/H will lead separate lives.

[Do Blake and Minerva change your mind?...]

Sophia Nash
Between the Duke and the Deep Blue Sea
Avon/Feb. 28, 2012/$7.99 paperback, $4.99 digital

Six Regency heroes—One royal hangover

An infamous night has been lost to memory. The scandalous Dukes of the Royal Entourage must make amends. The first step is a heroic rescue.

One of England’s most disreputable peers, Alexander Barclay, Duke of Kress, has stumbled upon a perfect opportunity for redemption. Having been exiled to Cornwall by the Prince Regent himself, Barclay discovers lovely Roxanne Vanderhaven clinging to the edge of a cliff, stranded there by her murderous blackguard of a husband . . . just waiting to be rescued.

Back on solid ground, Roxanne is desperate for a new life—once she’s retaliated for her husband’s despicable actions. Surprisingly, she finds herself drawn to her unlikely champion, certainly the last man in England she could count on. Yet, the infamous Duke of Kress isn’t quite the scoundrel he seems. .

Between the Duke and the Deep Blue Sea is the first book in Sophia Nash’s new series about six peers who party too heartily in company with the Prince Regent and create a scandal that leaves Prinny with a PR problem of major proportions. It’s an interesting premise, and Alexander Barclay, Duke of Kress, is an intriguing hero. But it is the heroine, Roxanne Vanderhaven, who makes the book extraordinary.

[We love a good heroine!...]

Caroline Linden
Blame It on Bath
Avon, $7.99/$4.99 digital
Feb. 28, 2012

A marriage of convenience . . . or of destiny?

Gerard de Lacey is determined to find the man who is blackmailing his family, but with his inheritance and status at risk, a hasty marriage to a wealthy bride also seems in order—just in case things take a turn for the worse. Charismatic and capable, Gerard knows he can win the hand of any lady he chooses. Still, he’s not expecting a rich widow to find him and propose the very thing he wants: a marriage of convenience.

Katherine Howe’s first marriage was one of dreary duty. Now that she’s being pressured to marry her late husband’s heir, she’s desperate for a better option. Gerard de Lacey, with his sinful good looks, charming manner, and looming scandal, fits her needs perfectly. The fact that she’s nursed a secret affection for him only makes it better—and worse. Because Gerard will likely marry her for her fortune—but can he love her for herself, as she loves him?

The marriage of convenience may be the most beloved trope in romance fiction. I count it among my favorites because I love watching a character (usually the hero) awaken to the treasure he/she has married. Caroline Linden’s Blame It on Bath is a wonderful example of the hero’s awakening to the worth of the heroine.

[Now that’s a great alarm clock!...]

Happy Valentine’s Day! Cynicism about this holiday has become common, and many see February 14 as just another excuse to empty the pockets of consumers, who will spend more than $16 billion on cards, flowers, chocolates, and other gifts. I’m still enough of a romantic to find the day a charming tradition. Ever since I read a particular romance novel a few weeks ago, I’ve been thinking about osculation in fiction. What better day to consider kisses than a holiday that celebrates love and lovers?

A kiss, of course, can mean many things from simple affection to bitter betrayal, but it is the romantic/erotic kiss that most fascinates. The ancients believed that in mouth-to-mouth kisses, lovers exchanged the breath of life and mingled souls. The Roman poet Catullus (84BC?- 54BC) inspired poets such as Robert Herrick, William Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Lord Byron with his explicit demand: “Kiss me now a thousand times and still a hundred more and then a hundred and a thousand more again till with so many hundred thousand kisses you and I lose count.” Herrick’s “To Anthea (III)” utilizes Catullus’s math and adds a challenge:

[Ooh, and who doesn’t love a good challenge?...]

This summer Anne of Green Gables, Lucy Maud Montgomery’s first novel, will turn 104, and Anne Shirley is still winning friends and influencing readers. Last year saw four new editions published: one hardback, two paperbacks, and an electronic book.  More than 50 million copies of the book have been sold, and this impressive number was reached without the common classroom study that has pushed sales numbers of some children’s classics higher.

According to one source, eight out of ten adult women admit an abiding love for Anne. And Anne’s appeal is not limited to North America; the Anne books have been translated into thirty-six languages, gaining particular popularity in Poland, where Montgomery ranked #2 in popularity among young readers, and Japan, where the books are popular with adults and children alike and inspire thousands of Japanese tourists to visit Prince Edward Island each year.

[A worthy pilgrimage...]

Linguist and author Deborah Tannen describes the unique bond of sisterhood as the “the coming together of connection and competition.” Tannen also talks about the ways that families often define sisters in terms of each other, thus creating identifying labels (i.e., the smart one and the pretty one, the bookworm and the athlete, the belle and the loner, etc.) that may become lifelong baggage to display with pride or refute with vigor. The ties and tangles of sisterly relationships are staples of women’s fiction, of course, but they occur frequently in romance fiction as well, serving, to borrow a phrase from Eloisa James, as “counterpoint to the hero.”

Jane Austen, whose sister Cassandra served as friend and confidante, created some of the most famous fictional sisters. The Dashwood sisters were the first to be introduced to the world, and Anne Elliot proves how uncomforting and uncongenial sisters can be. Best known of Austen’s sisters are the Bennets of Pride and Prejudice (1813): Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

[Who doesn’t know the Bennet girls?...]

On her web site, Eloisa James says that her Happily Ever After series arose from the questions generated when she was reading Andrew Lang’s Blue Fairy Book, Yellow Fairy Book, and others aloud to her daughter and found herself wondering “What on earth was Cinderella’s prince thinking when he set up the infamous ball? How did Beauty feel about getting that particular nickname? And what would the princess in The Princess and the Pea think of her future mother-in-law, once she learned of the tests?” She answers these questions in A Kiss at Midnight (2010), When Beauty Tamed the Beast (2011), and The Duke Is Mine (2011). She also follows in the footsteps of her father, poet Robert Bly, in reworking traditional tales.

James begins her series with a revisionary Cinderella, the most popular fairy tale generally, and most popular within romance fiction. The oldest datable version of Cinderella is a Chinese tale from the 9th century A. D. The version most familiar to Western audiences is the 1697 version of Charles Perrault, the version on which the Disney film was based and the version that James acknowledges in her author’s notes for A Kiss at Midnight. Scholars believe that Perrault modified his story to please the members of the French court. Writer Jane Yolen sees in Perrault’s character a young woman who “demonstrates the well-bred seventeenth-century female traits of gentility, grace, and selflessness, even to the point of graciously forgiving her wicked stepsisters and finding them noble husbands.”

[Fairy tales with a twist...]

Whether your vision of the perfect Christmas is “city sidewalks, busy sidewalks/dressed in holiday style” or “Christmas in the country/like another time and place,” chances are you can find your preferred image in a Christmas romance.

NoveList offers 764 titles categorized under the phrase “Christmas romance,” and I suspect that list is far from complete. My personal preference is for Christmas in a small town: The parade that the whole town turns out to see, the Christmas pageant with a freckled angel, the Santa plate with Miss Eunice’s special chocolate rum balls—these have the comfort of the familiar and cherished for me. And seeing love work miracles of healing and reconciliation makes the story perfect.

I have loved my Christmas visits to many small towns. I think of Destiny, Ohio; Valentine, Oklahoma; Twilight, Texas; Eternity Springs, Colorado; and Misty Harbor, Maine fondly, but I do have favorites. Here are my top three small towns at Christmas.

[Did your favorite make the list?...]

I’m no cynic during any season, but Christmas, a holiday that is steeped in faith, family, and tradition for me, brings out the sentimentalist that I work at keeping under control, with varying degrees of success, the rest of the year. Small surprise that my favorite Christmas romances are as rich in appeals to the tender emotions as Christmas kitchens are in smells of cinnamon and chocolate. Some of the category lines are perfect for my taste.

I don’t know when Harlequin began publishing Christmas romances. I remember only anthologies and occasional gems before 1989. That December, however, the company published four novels in their Harlequin American Romance Christmas Is for Kids promotion: A Carol Christmas by Muriel Jensen; Mrs. Scrooge by Barbara Bretton: Dear Santa by Margaret St. George; and The Best Gift of All by Andrea Davidson. I loved all four of them, and from that year I actively searched for Christmas stories in all the category lines. One of the Christmas Is for Kids books became #1 on my list of all-time favorite category Christmas novels, but there are others that are also a lot like my favorite Christmas movies—a bit schmaltzy but essentially heartwarming and guaranteed to leave me feeling good.

[More pick-me-up holiday recs this way...]

I come from a long-line of Christmas aficionados with a host of seasonal rituals, and at my house, Christmas begins the weekend after Thanksgiving. We put up the tree and decorate without restraint. Nativity scenes of crystal, porcelain, and wood have places of honor. Angels, Santa Clauses, and snowmen peek from every corner, and cookies (the first batch anyway) are decorated with the enthusiastic help of little ones.

One of my favorite holiday rituals is reading new Christmas books and rereading favorites. I can remember my mother reading the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke, Clement Moore’s A Visit from St. Nicholas, and The Bird’s Christmas Carol by Kate Douglas Wiggin (most famous for Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm) to my brother, sister, and me when we were still quite small. The latter, a book my mother loved as a child, is a real tearjerker, and tears would be streaming down our faces by the time Mother read the last line:

“And so the old years, fraught with memories, die, one after another, and the new years, bright with hopes, are born to take their places; but Carol lives again in every chime of Christmas bells that peal glad tidings and in every Christmas anthem sung by childish voices.”

Even now when I am aware of the book’s sentimentality, reading that passage leaves me teary-eyed.

[’Tis the season...]

There’s been no dearth of Christmas romances this season. New York publishing houses, small presses, e-publishers, and self-publishers have offered something for every taste from stories as wholesome as Mommy kissing Santa to those steamy enough to wilt not just the mistletoe, but all the holiday greenery.

Despite the variety, I still miss the Signet Christmas anthologies. From 1989 through 2005, these anthologies were the highlight of my December reading. I could count on novellas by my favorite historical authors that would give me not Christmas as a painted backdrop,  but rather Christmas as an integral part of the story. I have the complete set, and each Christmas I reread these favorites:

[But there are so many to choose from...]

Cross-dressing heroines, or chicks-in-pants books as they are popularly known, are among my favorite reads when they are done well. Twelfth Night has long been my favorite Shakespearean comedy. One of my favorite 19th-century popular novels is The Hidden Hand by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte “E. D. E. N.” Southworth (1819-1899), one of the most widely read and highest paid authors in America during her period. 

The Hidden Hand (serialized 1859; published as novel in 1888) features a heroine whom readers first meet when she is masquerading as a boy in order to survive. When orphaned street waif Capitola Le Noir, also known as Cap Black, realizes that boys are earning money carrying parcels, blacking boots, and shoveling snow on the streets of New York, jobs denied her solely because of her gender, she disguises herself as a boy. She has no regrets: “The only thing that made me feel sorry was to see what a fool I had been, not to turn to a boy before.” Even after she is rescued by a wealthy relative and restored to her female identity, she rejects conventional feminine behavior—confronting villains, fighting a duel, rescuing an imprisoned maiden, and expressing herself without reservation.

[Anything he can do, she can do better...]

Despite the overflowing TBR bookshelf and a couple of dozen unread ebooks  (all books I truly want to read), sometimes I’m just hungry for a new book from a particular author, one whose books I love, but who seems to have disappeared from bookstores—brick and mortar and cyber.

I celebrated when Laura Kinsale’s Lessons in French was published after four years without a new book from her and crossed my fingers when I heard a recent rumor that a new book is in the works. I was delighted when this past spring brought an ebook sequel, The Mask of Night, to Tracy Grant’s Mélanie and Charles Fraser books (originally published in 2002) and a prequel, Vienna Waltz, even if the characters are now called Malcolm and Suzanne Rannoch and the author’s name on the cover is Teresa Grant. I’ve mourned a year without a new novel from Lisa Kleypas, and even the three Friday Harbor books scheduled for release in 2012, although I anticipate them eagerly, won’t satisfy my longing for a new Kleypas historical. Alas, Maggie Osborne has retired, but I haven’t given up on reading another Judith Ivory book in my lifetime.

[Who else is on the wish list?...]

I’m Southern by birth, upbringing, education, and choice. When I travel, I always give a little “I’m home” sigh when the restaurants I visit start serving grits for breakfast. Southern literature is my major academic field, and I drop quotes by William Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor, and Eudora Welty at every opportunity.

So it’s hardly surprising then that I have high standards for romance fiction with Southern settings. I’m a peaceful lover of harmony by nature, but when I read a novel that purports to be Southern, but is as fake as the accent in too many Southern movies, I have been known to hurl a book across the room and mutter imprecations that would have scandalized my mama (see a similar post titled RIMBY: Romance in My Own Backyard). I crossed a former auto-buy author permanently off my list when she wrote a book in which the hero proved his roots were below the Mason-Dixon Line by using “y’all” every time he spoke.

[Southern is a state of mind, too...]

In her October 25 post, “Outstaying Their Welcome: “When Romantic Couples Linger Too Long,” Elizabeth Vail declared,

“If prequel characters have no specific purpose to be in a particular story, then they ought to butt out, because Perfectly Married Bliss is boring as hell to read.”

With all due respect to Elizabeth and those who hold to her view, I beg to disagree. Not all readers find boring a second (or third or fourth) look at couples whose HEA has already been achieved.

I, for one, will be disappointed if Mary Balogh’s 2012 book about Lady Gwen Muir doesn’t have roles for Lily and Neville and Kit and Lauren; I even hope for a glimpse of the Bedwyns. Although I agree that the primary couple should be the focus of the story, I would find it strange if family and friends were not part of the world the couple inhabits. For example, I loved the wedding scene in Simply Love and the summer gathering in Simply Perfect. They seemed like natural interactions to me.

[Making a case for returning favorites...]

I avoid horror tales and rarely read the paranormal stories that are popular with many readers, but I do have a fondness for romances with a ghost as protagonist. I plan to celebrate Halloween by rereading my favorite ghostly love stories. Some of my favorites:

[Scary and romantic!]