A Daring Passion
When I was a ninth grader, I liked reading Rosemary Rogers books for the Forceful Heroes, the Feisty Heroines, and the s-e-x. Ninth graders everywhere are just going to love A Daring Passion. Frankly, the plot of this book is so clichéd and the prose so phenomenally purple I almost felt as if I should be keeping an ear out for my mother’s footsteps outside my room to keep from getting busted for reading a dirty book.
In fact, it’s fair to say that the clichés and overwrought prose are off the charts here. So much so, in fact, that the Forceful Hero meets the Feisty Heroine when she is dressed as a highwayman because she’s trying to protect her father – who’s the real highwayman (only he’s the good and kindly Robin Hood kind) – after he’s been wounded and she’s trying to throw the magistrate off the scent. Our jaded and enormously wealthy Forceful Hero discovers that his thief is really a teeny, tiny convent-raised girl and lust instantly ensues. Which is no wonder when you consider the author’s description of Fesity:
“Wreathed in the light of the flickering candles, her beauty was luminous, her ivory skin glowing with the perfect sheen of a rare pearl and her dark eyes faintly slanted and surrounded by a lush thicket of lashes that lent an air of smoldering mystery. Her nose was a tiny, straight line that contrasted with the full bow of her mouth. And just beside that lovely mouth was a tiny black mole that seemed deliberately placed to provoke a man’s attention.”
My reaction can be summed up in one word: Bleeech.
Then there’s this exchange between Feisty and Forceful:
“I will be no man’s slave.”
He merely laughed as he tugged open the cloak and his arms encircled her waist.
“You belong to me, Raine Wimborne.” He gave her earlobe a nip before his lips stroked down the line of her jaw. “There is no where you can hide that I would not find you.”
Color me s-o-o-o-o not amused.
So, Feisty and Forceful square off against each other while he threatens to expose her father and she sort of helps him find the bad guys who framed his feckless brother. Ho hum. Historical romance readers have been there and done that. About ten thousand times, as a matter of fact.
If you’ve ever read Rosemary Rogers before, then you’ve already read this book. If you haven’t, then the truth is that this book is very much of a period when one-dimensional Feistys and Forcefuls reigned supreme. We’ve all moved on in the years since her heyday, but clearly Ms. Rogers hasn’t.