by Teresa Medeiros, historical (2002)
Bantam, $6.50, ISBN 0-553-58185-6
The other day I realize what a bind I am in! My dearest guardian, a woman who loves me and hence knows what is good for me, has decreed in her will that I must marry before I turn 21 - or me and my siblings will be thrown onto the streets! I realize right away that this is an ingenous way for my late loving guardian to ensure my happiness. Stunned by her genius - my guardian wouldn't do anything as mundane as telling me, "Laura, go get screwed!", that's for sure - I decide to pray to God - did I tell you my father was a vicar who neglected my upbringing in his love for me, I wish all fathers in the world are like my daddy, because then I'm sure the world will be a better place. Anyway, so here I am, looking for a husband.
Not the men in my village that I know all my life, because let's face it - I don't want to marry for the sake of marrying alone, especially with people I know all my life! What kind of logic is that? I am not marrying for sex either, so don't hate me please. It's for the house, but that's for MY SIBLINGS. If I'm alone, I'd rather die on the streets, because I'm feitsy and independent that way. And I love my Daddy the mostest. I'm a bluestocking too. Wanna see my herbal pouch? And I do mean the herbal pouch around my belt, so stop peeking up my skirts, you pervert!
So one day, I discover a very handsome unconscious man in the woods, and I know it. This is the man I will marry. If I marry this stranger, I will get my house and even better, I will find true love and happily ever after! My grouchy old man that hangs around my place - why, I'm surrounded by old silly fools or young innocent bumpkins relying on my undoubtedly splendid skills in decision-making to make it through the day - that old man tells me that the unconscious man may be a serial killer or something. But what does he know? He's not a bluestocking. I know this man is handsome, sexy, and so gorgeous, there's no way he's a serial killer. He's a gentleman. When he wakes up and realizes that he has amnesia, hey, even better. I'll marry him, create a personality for him, and we'll live happily ever after! Oh, alright, I'll tell him the truth maybe ten years later.
Give me an ax and I'll pass for Kathy Bates in Misery, you say? Excuse me! I'm a bluestocking, so you take your obscene insinuations elsewhere?
So there I go, creating some fantasies around my handsome man and falling in love with him. I know even when he recovers his memory, our marriage will be sanctified by God and that is all that matters. Why cares what the court say? He will never leave me, because this virtual stranger is a kind, gentle soul and I know it! I know it! Yes, I know, so you SHUT UP!
Imagine my horror when I realize that he is actually that meanie rake Sterling Harlow, that debauched, evil rake who is the estranged son of my guardian! That poor woman died calling Sterling's name, and I wrote a stinging letter to Sterling that has him coming over here at once to evict me. How lucky for him that he fell off his horse and lost his memory!
He hates me now. He is angry. But no matter. Because you see, I will be the best wife to him ever. I will make him see that we are in love. Because I love him like no one else. We have made love, and it's the purest thing ever - even better than Daddy - so he must love me! He must! I know he is a prince charming. I know! I know! YOU SHUT UP, BITCH!
It's all his parents' fault anyway. I hope they burn in hell. They made my darling Sterling that way. And I'm so grateful that in the end, Sterling loves me. I don't know what I will do if he doesn't love me, because I love him so much, I just know he must love me back. And I'm glad he does. This proves me right, see? I know from the moment I met him that he is noble, pure, sweet, handsome and perfect. I weave my fantasies around him, I don't know him at all, but you know what? I don't care. I'm a romance bluestocking, and it is my right to have my stupidity indulged and rewarded.
So all you stupid hos can just shut up. SHUT UP. And if you even dare look at my man, I will rip your uterus out of your skanky groin with my bare hands.
Oh, Sterling is asking me to come suck his toes. How disgusting! But since he asked me to, I must submit, hee-hee! Coming, darling! La, la, la!
Love me please,
PS: The hero, for the first chapter at least, is one sexy dude - just think of the hero in Loretta Chase's Lord Of Scoundrels, and Sterling is the poor man's version. The heroine, however, is just begging for a wake-up reality bitchslap, but too bad the author only has that nitwit burrowing even deeper into her fantasies. She barely knows that man, all she has is her own delusions that Sterling is some Jesus Christ figure, and in the end the author tells me it's a happily ever after. Yeah, after I bitchslapped that nitwit Laura Fairleigh with a frying pan, that is. I hate morons.
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