yourbookishbff's Reviews (650)

This was such a fun series start for Hell's Belles. I've been looking forward to Sesily's story (and the backstory on our standoffish American) since Sophie's book, and this was the happily ever after she deserved. While the pace dragged a bit in the middle (primarily just because we were stuck in a conflict cycle where he keeps pushing her away for no apparent reason, and I was anxious for the backstory reveal that would make this make sense), it picks up in the final third and closes spectacularly. I loved seeing so many of our previous characters return, and I adored our friend group. Excited for Adelaide's book next and already anxious for Imogen. 

I picked up The Love Remedy, my first by Elizabeth Everett, for its reproductive justice storyline and character work, and on both counts, it shines. Lucy, our female main character, is an apothecary, one of two female apothecaries in mid-19th-century London, the other being her sister, Juliet. Lucy has inherited their father's shop after his (and their mother's) early death from cholera. While Lucy excels in chemistry and treatment formulation, her sister, Juliet, excels in patient care, and splits her time between their shop and a free clinic for women. The two women are exhausted, worn out by the daily demands of their jobs and recent obstacles (a flighty brother mysteriously investing in unknown business ventures, a love interest who absconded with one of Lucy's most groundbreaking formulas, only to patent and sell it for a fortune, etc.). Our male main character, Thorne, enters the scene as the private investigator ("bookkeeper") Lucy has hired to recover a second missing formula.

We have a few plot threads at work - the mystery around the second missing formula, the sibling tension (lots of lying and withheld information here), and a slow-burn romance between the overburdened Lucy and the seemingly tireless and sturdy Thorne. Thorne, as a single dad, sober alcoholic, and recovering aristocrat, has built steep walls around himself and his daughter, Sadie, to keep memories of his past away and to build a new life for himself. Within these confines, though, he's developed some maddening assumptions about himself and others, about women's roles, etc. While he made ME want to hit him in the face with a book one (or a dozen) times, he is an authentic reflection of a 19th-century aristocrat unlearning a lot of absolutely violent nonsense about class, station and self-worth. Lucy, on the other hand, understands well her societal limits and challenges these in small and large ways every day, and is, understandably, exhausted by the fight. 

Where this romance works beautifully is in Thorne's commitment to seeing her, listening to her, and giving her peace and comfort. It is painful to read Lucy panicking on page, to see how she's constantly undermined by her OWN FAMILY, to see how she forgives those who hurt her before coming to terms with the pain they've caused her. I loved seeing how Thorne navigates this, and how his own character development is shoved along as he tries to be a person she can confide in and depend on. I loved their love story.

Mildly spoilery discussion to follow:

All of that said, I loathe Lucy's family to a degree that I'm not going to be over for a while. I love that Juliet provides women with abortion care, and that is the extent of my love for Juliet. Even David, despite all evidence to suggest he's well-intentioned but flighty, has earned none of my forgiveness. The nobility of his cause does not excuse his lies, withheld information, and decision to invest their money without their input, discussion or support. Not one of Lucy's siblings respected her enough to be honest with her, ask her what SHE WANTED, or treat her like an adult. Thorne and Thorne alone earned my forgiveness by the end of the third act. My frustration with Lucy's family curdled some of the third-act resolution for me, and had I not wanted to drop-kick them into a different character universe, this would have been a five-star read.

This was fascinating. Harkup works through the alphabet by chapter, naming a common poison used in an Agatha Christie mystery. She then describes how the poison works, how it causes death, how it is treated, where it appears in real life cases, and how it's used by Christie. I've never read Agatha Christie but I was excited to learn more about the poisons I've read in Lady Sherlock and histrom more broadly. Christie had a pharmaceutical background, and I was amazed by how frequently her stories are cited by doctors, investigators, and perpetrators in real poisoning cases. My mind drifted through some of the chemistry but I was always sucked back in for the historical cases. 

There are some dated comments in the opium chapter that do not hold up medically in 2024, particularly that medical use of opioids does not often result in addiction (to support this she cites a study of Vietnam vets who used heroine during the war and supposedly didn't use heroine when they came home? This feels like it came from a pharmaceutical company's sales brochure honestly). This commentary on opioids does not hold up given what we know of addiction in 2024. 

That said, this was a really interesting read and will be particularly enjoyable to Agatha Christie readers!

A Lady Awakened is unlike any other historical romance I've read. Where we usually get heady banter and snappy tension in an opposites-attract set-up, this is an exercise in awkward discomfort, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, and the worst sexual chemistry imaginable. Theo, a dissolute rake sent to the country for personal betterment, and Martha, widowed and facing expulsion from her home for lack of bearing an heir, find themselves neighbors and, soon, co-conspirators. Martha is determined to prevent her late husband's estate falling to an evil family member, and commits herself to getting pregnant within four weeks of her husband's death so that she can pass off the child as her husband's heir. She strikes an absurd sex bargain with a virtual stranger, committing Theo to sleep with her at least once daily in exchange for a hefty sum at the end of the month. 

Again, this is not your typical story of a widow wooed by a tender rake, as much as Theo assumed it would be. Martha is determined to hold herself apart from pleasure at every turn, is entirely unmoved by his charms, and is desperate for a person to respect her mind before seducing her body. Both of these characters need a lot of personal work, and the story is committed to each of their development, together and apart. 

Turn back here if you do not enjoy reading horrifically awkward sex. I have never read worse (and I thoroughly enjoyed it). This is an exploration in sexual attraction, desire, consent, and pleasure and how our emotional desires interplay with these. I can see Martha being demi-coded, though it's honestly hard to parse out how much of her sexual desire and understanding of her own attraction has been shaped by trauma, ignorance of her own body, and sexual shame.

I will note with spoiler warnings in content warnings how consent is impacted by this bizarre sex bargain. This will not feel like enthusiastic consent - because Martha desires nor experiences sexual pleasure for the first 75% of their interactions - but it is by her choice and agency that this sex bargain exists (within the social context that forces her into this position? God it's complicated). 

For historical romance readers eager to read something original, who enjoy character-driven stories that prioritize personal development and authentic interactions, this is a compelling read, and one I will be thinking about for a long time.

I loved this installment in Veronica Speedwell! When our murder mystery opened, I was worried the turns might be predictable, and I was so glad to be wrong when we started hitting the reveals. I really enjoyed how the mystery's conclusion was portioned out toward the end, keeping the reader in the dark for most of the action, and I appreciated the plot arc and how it ties into the characters broader goals. And of course, the chemistry between Veronica and Stoker is excellent and I can't wait for more time with the two of them.

This is a perfect bonus to the Lily-white Boys, with a tight little mystery, big old-time Christmas vibes, just the right amount of betrayal, and a mysterious Lily-white cameo that keeps you guessing until the final pages. I thoroughly enjoyed the romance at the heart of this, too. This series is all hits, no misses.

An art forger and an art critic, class difference, deep familial trauma, hidden identity, lying and spying, a slow-slow-burn - this was so compelling. I love how Lowell explores art circles in Victorian England in each of her books, showing their various political causes and their intersecting interests with their colleagues in the sciences and trade. I loved getting an inside peak at the business of art forging, and appreciated how Lowell navigates toxic familial relationships with respect and nuance. And I was so moved to see our art critic fully fleshed out on page. Alan's determination to forge a name (literally) for himself, as well as a path and a career and a future, in spite of everything he endured growing up, makes him a perfect match to Nina, brazen and lonely and determined to not give up even when everything is (literally) sold out from under her.

The backstory here for both characters is difficult to read - I'll include a note with spoiler warning in content warnings - but this doesn't ever feel gratuitous. These characters feel fully realized, and their moments together - and the way they built their own happily-ever-after - were just right. Highly recommend Joanna Lowell to anyone who loves Victorian-era romance that explores characters in and decidedly outside the aristocracy, with a specific focus on the art world, and gorgeous prose. 

This was a perfectly unexpected love story for Lavinia, a memorable side character from The Duke Undone. Both Lavinia and Neal are downright snobbish - Lavinia has only ever lived in high society and doesn't know how to acclimate to a life without luxury, and Neal is determined to find a female partner he believes shares his every interest and academic pursuit (eye roll, Neal). These two should make zero sense, but the zany and haphazard circumstances of their meeting and subsequent road trip, and their slow burn chemistry, worked so well. 

My absolute favorite decision Lowell makes in this is in Lavinia's happily ever after. Seeing women in historical romance support each other's passions and careers makes me feel absolutely effervescent with joy. Lowell puts in the work to build out an equitable resolution and life together for these two, and it felt so incredibly special.

Highly recommend for those who love opposites attract, class difference, hidden identity, and roadtrips!

After loving Lowell's newest release, A Shore Thing, I wanted to start at the beginning to read through her backlist. This is a remarkable debut, with a wildly inventive premise (East End artist stumbles on naked duke, paints him, causes pandemonium) layered with lush prose and complex character work. Through our main characters, Lowell is tackling codependency and alcoholism, war trauma, grief, class difference and Victorian era housing rights. She deftly uses the primary subplot - our Duke's attempt to finally overturn the conservatorship that's bound his money and agency with his father's old accomplice - to expose obstacles in the romance, and I appreciated how respectfully Lowell navigates some really nuanced relationship and power dynamics. 

Also, Lowell writes excellent intimacy scenes that feel authentic to each character and propel the plot and relationship in meaningful ways. Her intimacy scenes remind me of Meredith Duran's, both for their gut punch emotional heft and their character insight.

I thoroughly enjoyed this and look forward to being a Lowell completionist.

Non-consensual sex scenes between MCs in flashbacks were triggering, and I set this aside. See content warning for further context if this could potentially be triggering for you as well.