My fascination — nay — obsession with all things Austen began inauspiciously enough. To quote Mr. I would have loved Jane Austen just as well, but I do not think that I would have been sent into such a tailspin of obsession had the role of Mr. Darcy not been so well cast. While Mr. Her Juvenilia announced a maturity far beyond her years.
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But also blasphemy, smut and trash are not uncommon adjectives used by her severest critics. Rarely has there been such a clear division of thought between two camps: those that fervently love her work and those that vehemently hate it. I for one am with Team Berdoll and at the risk of having my Janeite card revoked, boldly declare that Linda Berdoll sets the standard for this romance genre.
The Ruling Passion, her highly anticipated sequel to the sequels, has finally come to fruition. Time and children had not mitigated their passion whatsoever.
If any consternation bedeviled them, it was finding privacy wherein to avail themselves of their desire, not want of it. Or carraige. Or wherever she can entrap him. Elizabeth slips into a deep depression and closes herself off to her husband and his comfort.
But, imbedded in a muddle of fear and grief, she did not allow herself to take pleasure in their amorous inclinations. She clasped his nightshirt and buried her face against his neck as he took her. Berdoll weaves a rich cabal by her own coloring of classic Austen characters as well as those she thusly contrived. I laughed heartily at the tongue in cheek and other sensitive spots euphemisms of the burlesque, smirked at her quirky yet exacting vernacular, smiled at the quick-witted teasing, and sighed at the tender exchanges between a man and woman who truly adore one another.
I might add, unlike the Mr. As much. Alistair R. Yes, hold on to your bonnets as Linda Berdoll has quite done it again.
The Darcys: The Ruling Passion