Like many readers, I very much enjoyed Almost A Gentleman, Pam Rosenthal’s debut romance novel. If it wasn’t quite a DIK for me, it was both romantic and erotic and definitely left me looking forward to the author’s future books.

Unhappily, the The Bookseller’s Daughter is such a dramatic decline from that promising first effort that I’m still wondering just what went wrong. For starters, until the hero and heroine actually begin to have sex (about 100 pages in), their story is told in such a detached manner that I really couldn’t work up any interest in either of the characters. Things get better, though, and the characters do come to life once they get hot and heavy, but just when I was starting to settle down and really enjoy the book, the heroine makes a ridiculously stupid decision that had me rolling my eyes and scratching my head. Regrettably, as I soldiered on, I confronted melodramatic plot developments – and I really do mean melodramatic – that definitely crossed the line into “oh, puh-lease” territory.

The bookseller’s daughter of the title, Marie-Laure Vernet has fallen into such hard times that she finds herself working as a lowly scullery household in the Provence household of a dissolute Duc. Mistreated by a vicious mistress and by the particularly brutal circumstances facing all servants before the revolution, she is startled when serving tea one day to see the mysterious man she met months earlier when he sold smuggled books to her father’s bookshop. Injured the night they met, Joseph, a Vicomte and the second son of the Duc, recovered at her family apartment, where the two developed a fragile and soon to be broken bond.

But, clearly, sparks flew. And continue to fly. So, when it becomes clear that Marie-Laure is destined to be raped by either Joseph’s fat and disgusting brother or by his repulsive father, Joseph steps up to the plate and suggests that the two pretend to be lovers. She agrees and Marie-Laure and Joseph begin to meet nightly in his rooms.

Both lovers of books (Joseph is, in fact, a writer whom Marie-Laure deeply admires), the two have much to talk about and Ms. Rosethal does a good job in these encounters of showing the development of an attraction that is far more than physical. But, the physical is, without question, also part of the equation, and the love scenes that follow are languidly sexy and appealingly adventurous.

But the lovers’ idyll is destined not to last since the deeply indebted second son has no choice but to marry. Once his family locates the perfect bride, Joseph recognizes both the inevitability of his marriage and the deep gulf between master and servant, and he prepares to leave. But before he goes, he offers Marie-Laure the logical alternative that would both protect her and allow them to be together.

It would be hard to imagine a woman in a worse position than Marie-Laure. Her mistress doesn’t hesitate to beat her servants and holds the beautiful scullery maid in particular dislike. Equally, without Joseph’s protection, Marie-Laure stands to be raped night after night by men against whom she has no defense. Gee, do you think that staying there without her protector sounds like a plan? And would anybody be surprised if things don’t work out quite the way she hopes?

Joseph is a believable product of his time and an appealing character. Fortunate in his marriage and especially unfortunate in his family, he is more likable and his behavior more understandable than that of Marie-Laure. As a writer of erotic tales and a refined and imaginative lover, the love scenes in Provence are easily the highlight of the book.

Frankly, much of the subtlety that so graced Almost A Gentleman doesn’t seem to be in evidence here. Still, on the positive side, there are those love scenes and the fact that Ms. Rosenthal (who unquestionably carefully researched her period) obviously has both great love and immense respect for the bookseller’s trade. But with the hissing villains, the snarling villainess, and the horrific realities facing her heroine, I found myself more than slightly creeped-out by the extreme vulnerability of Marie-Laure. Though it is surely not her choice, this woman is a Victim with a capital “V” and, clearly, Victims have to be rescued.

Regrettably, The Bookseller’s Daughter is a less than satisfactory follow-up to the author’s very promising romance debut. So impressed was I with her first effort that I’m fervently hoping she’ll be back on track with the next.