Dls’s Comments (group member since Sep 14, 2010)
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from the Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn group.
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And this shows both an 18th c one and a rather charming 17th one with hand pedals
http://www.wheelchairnet.org/wcn_wcu/...
Nice to know that as usual Balogh has her facts right!


I did read both The Escape and The Captive and was really struck by both the similarities--men with war wounds both physical and mental, widows recovering from bad marriages--and the differences . The Balogh felt realistic and the Burrowes felt melodramatic and over the top. I didn't believe her hero recovered that quickly or took so long to figure out the role of his heir. And the melodramatic bad guy wasn't really necessary .


Who wants to be on the schedule for the Monday Puzzler for the rest of 2014?
You can just answer here or PM me.
Thanks!
Deb

Jamie slipped his hand into Hero’s. “This year you should try writing to Santa. I know you’re big but you never know. I write to him every year and he always comes.”
Finding it difficult to speak, Hero cleared his throadt. “You think he’d come if I wrote to him?”
“Sure. I think so.” Jamie frowned. “Maybe you ought to tell him that you save a lot of people’s lives, just in case he doesn’t know you do that kind of thing. I mean, that’s good, isn’t it? It’s got to be worth something.”
Hero nodded. “Maybe.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Where do I post the letter?”
Jamie gave him a puzzled look. “You put it up the chimney. It just goes.”
“Up the chimney. Right.” He didn’t point out that his contemporary fireplace was surrounded by glass. “Maybe you can help me write it. Have you done yours?”
“Last week.” Jamie tugged at his hat. “I asked for a Batmobile toy and a Nintendo Wii, but I know I won’t get both because its too expensive. I sort of asked him to choose. He knows what would suit you. What would you ask for?”
Hero looked at Heroine, who had wandered off to help her mother choose a tree. “I have a feeling Santa probably can’t give everyone what they want,” he said huskily, and Jamie looked at him and then turned his head.
“You like my mum, don’t you? You look at her all the time. And she looks at you, but mostly when she knows you’re not looking.”
Digesting that information, Hero dropped down to his haunches so that he was at the same level as the boy. “I do like your mum, Jamie. I like her a lot.”
Jamie glanced over his shoulder and then leaned forward and whispered, “If you like my mum, then you have to have a plan, because pretty soon she’ll drive you away. That’s what she does. She puts men off. I’ve heard Grandma talking to her. Grandma says she needs to stop shutting people out. I don’t quite know what that means, but I know she doesn’t kiss anyone. Is that going to be a problem?”
Hero thought about the night before, about Heroine stretched out naked under him and above him. “I think I can handle it.”
“The thing that really worries her is that a man might like her and not me.” Jamie fiddled with one of the branches of the tree. “Not everyone likes kids. My real dad didn’t like kids.”
Hero found that his hands had curled into fists. Forcing himself to breathe slowly, he relaxed them. “Jamie—“
“I used to think it was that he didn’t like me, but Mum told me that was wrong. He didn’t even wait around for me to be born, so it couldn’t have been because he didn’t like me, could it?” There was a flicker of uncertainty in his face and Hero put his arms around the boy and dragged him into a hug.
“No, it most definitely could not have been because he didn’t like you. Your mum is right, he must just not have wanted kids. If he’d known you there is no way he could have walked away.”
Over Jamie’s shoulder he saw Heroine looking at them. Saw the anxiety in her eyes. He gave her a smile and saw her relax slightly. But she kept glancing toward them as she helped her mother choose a tree.
“Mum says it was her fault. Because she’s not a girly girl. She says my dad wanted someone who wore a dress all the time and painted her nails pink.” Jamie pulled away. “Would you want Mum to pain her nails? Because generally she thinks it’s a waste of time.”
“I think,” Hero said slowly, “that I’d want your mum to do whatever she wanted to do. If she wanted pink nails, that would be fine. If she didn’t, that would be fine too.”
“Right, well, that’s good. And I know you don’t mind that she likes the mountains, because you like them too. Most of the time at weekends we’re up in the mountains training Rambo. And when I’m older she’s promised to get me my own puppy to train.” He looked at Hero. “So what do you think? Do you think you could get to like me? Because I sort of come with my mum, a bit like getting a free toy in a cereal packet.” There was a tremble in his voice and Hero tried to remember another occasion when he’d felt as though his heart was jammed in his throat.
“I already like you Jamie. I like you a great deal.”
Jamie stood for a moment. “So the only problem is how to get Mum to stop being scared of you.”

