I love vintage Mills and Boon, especially ones featuring a winsome, as-delicate-as-spun-sugar, wide-eyed ingenue being chased and seduced by a barely civilized, steely-eyed Neanderthal in a Saville Row suit in London… or Toronto. There’s just so much gooey, cheesy, melodramatic nonsense going on that you can almost bite into the crazy pie and come back for seconds and thirds without feeling like you just consumed something disgusting (okay, maybe a little disgusting… shouldn’t you be training for that full marathon?). In this lovely offering by Lynne Graham, we have: a secret baby, an Italian billionaire, amnesia, and a car accident reminiscent of Deborah Kerr’s in “An Affair to Remember.” The heroine is a fragile, pretty blond thing who is described as “innocent” one too many times and the hero is a majorly alpha, testosterone-heavy, chauvinistic He-Man who literally drags the heroine back to his castle like some liege lord claiming his lady. And yet… and yet… I ended up liking the hero. Sure, he basically kidnaps the heroine and keeps her with him under false pretenses, but in the end, he just seemed so helpless about expressing what he truly feels about her and utterly baffled as to why he should feel the way he does that it’s almost adorable. OMG, IKNORITE?! Let’s dive into the insanity together, ladies and ghouls, and explore this “Tempestuous Reunion.”
Posts Tagged ‘Secret Baby’
I’m a grump, a grouch, the kind of lady who says, “Ugh” at romantic comedies with a thumbs down and over-exaggerated eye-rolling. I should have hated this film because it’s just Jennifer Aniston playing Rachel from Friends again for the umpteenth time and Jason Bateman is playing a variation of Michael Bluth from the brilliant Arrested Development. Well, friends, I’m going to confess something to you. I know I’m a noted cynic and hater of all things corny and cheeseball and over-processed, gimmicky bullshit, but I gotta tell you: I love Rachel and Michael Bluth, all right? [side note: I’m starting to think that maybe it’s time I stop kidding myself and stop telling people, “My favorite film? Why, Wong Kar Wai’s seminal film, In the Mood for Love, of course,” and instead say that it’s Mannequin 2: On the Move starring Kristy Swanson and William Ragsdale– gotta love the main theme song, “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship] I avoided seeing this at the theater because I didn’t want to be seen as one of those women gushing, “Ohhhh, I love The Notebook. Ryan Gosling + Rachel MacAdams should be together forever!” and “OH MY GOD, how accurate was He’s Just Not That Into You? It’s like they read my web diary!” and “SHUT UP, Sex in the City 2 is the best movie of ALL TIME. OF ALL TIME!!!” or “I WILL JUST DIE IF I DON’T SEE THAT NEW KATE HUDSON MOVIE ON OPENING NIGHT!! My girlfriends and I are going to head on over right after Happy Hour at Cosmo’s where I will drink many pink girly drinks with umbrellas in it.” Or “Ohmygaw, I’m so going to crash Target’s website and servers because I just absolutely have to have those ugly rain boots with the print on it by some Italian guy I’ve never heard of.” That’s just not me. Admittedly, I scoff at those women. And why, for God’s sake? I like cats, I write romance novels, I LOVE romance novels, and I like shoes very, very much. Why should I make fun of these ladies when I once watched that movie with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel and found myself rooting for those 2 crazy kids to make it work? On top of that, I am unabashedly excited for that Stephanie Plum movie starring Katherine Heigl when I just know that the critics will hate it. What do I gain for pretending I hate these movies and proclaiming loudly how awful and sexist they are? Why should I deprive myself of happiness from watching goofy, critically lambasted films just because people might think I’m uncool? Hipster cred makes NO ONE happy and satisfied. From now on, I will proudly declare that I LOVE so-called “awful” movies. So there.