Dls’s Comments (group member since Sep 14, 2010)
Dls’s
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from the Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn group.
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They are all very different each from the other. Wicked Becomes you is perhaps a little more lighthearted than the first three. I recommend them al.





Group consensus was that it was well done but not as good as the book.
I'm intrigued that my daughter and many of her friends kept saying "that's the end of my childhood"....because they grew up with Harry.

What I loved about the book was how beautifully Duran conveyed the world view gap between the hero and heroine. Most books that do a Pygmalion type story tend to do it almost from the upperclass person's perspective--I mean, you don't really see how different it looks for the person who is being offered a way out of poverty. Here, Nell is utterly convincing that way.



I finished Slightly Married and the Amorous Education of Celia Seaton. I'm now reading The Bride Wore Scarlet by Liz Carlyle. I have already read our August book read, which I loved. But I have I think six books pre-ordered on my Nook for August 1 or 2 (the new Sarah Mayberry, Karina Bliss, Victoria Dahl, Jodi Thomas, Jennifer Ashley, and Thea Harrison). That's got to be one of the things I love most about it--that I get books the day they are released, without having to go to the book store or wait if they are not in stock yet. For people like me who don't get ARC, that's wonderful.

Am I the only person who reads several books at once?Does anyone else in this group?

And then there are some wonderful lines and scenes ....I could go on and on.

Its definitly one of my favorites by her too, and I always forget how much I love it until I reread it. We could probably exchange favorite bits out of the book...

“I am a killer,” he said abruptly. “I kill for a living. There is nothing very amusing about that.”
She looked up at him, her needle suspended above her work. He frowned. Now why the deuce had he said that? He had not consciously thought that way for years. He had never spoken such thoughts to anyone, least of all a woman.
“Is that how you see yourself?” she asked. “As a killer?”
He wanted to shock her then. He wanted to shake her out of the complacence most English people seemed to share, perhaps because the realities of war were very remote to them, safe as they were on their secure island.
“It is said that every woman is in love with a uniform,” he said. “At present I believe everyone in England, man and woman alike, loves a uniform, provided it is British or Prussian or Russian. Everyone loves killers.”
“But you have been fighting tyranny,” she said. “You have been fighting to free countries and the countless people who inhabit them from the clutches of a ruthless tyrant. There has to be something noble and right about that, even if you do have to kill some enemy people in the process.”
“Next year,” he said “or the year after, it will perhaps be Russia that is the enemy, or Prussia or Austria or America—and France that is the ally. The British, of course, are always on the side of good and right. On the side of God. God speaks with a British accent—did you know that? A refined, upper-class English accent, to be precise.”
She had lowered her needle to the cloth, but she continued to gaze at him.
“I am a killer,” he said again. “The great advantage of being a soldier, of course, is that I will never be hanged for my crimes. I will be feted and adulated instead. The ladies will continue to fall in love with me, even though I am already married—and even though I do not smile.”
What the devil was he babbling on about? He was feeling vicious—and alarmingly close to tears. He wished he could jump up and dash from the room without looking like an idiot, or that she would look down and get back to work. He could not remember when he had so lowered his guard before—perhaps it had not happened since he was a boy .
“I am so sorry,” she said at last. “I had no idea. I assumed that because you look so… I did not understand. Is it deliberate, I wonder, that we block out the shocking reality of what happens when one army defends the freedom of a nation against another army? And that we forget that an army is made up of real men with real feelings and consciences?”
“I beg your pardon.” He got to his feet and turned his back on her, staring down into the unlit coals in the fireplace. “I gave a foolish answer to the simple question of why I do not smile. I believe I do smile, ma’am.”



I think of this as a relationship food--my husband loves to grow and eat Zucchini and I hate them. So if I cook almost all the squash blossoms, he gets a few zuchini, and he loves squashblossoms too so I can keep him happy without spending my summer cooking zuchini!