these romance novels, with their dramatic painted covers and promises of intense erotic power exchanges, always held a great allure for me as a child. growing up in a religious family, they represented what was forbidden to me - any sort of sexual expression - but in a form that was perceived as non-threatening because it was (supposedly) so comical and exaggerated. my parents jokingly bought some of these at a thrift store as a gag gift for an acquaintance (who didn't know them very well and wasn't amused) and before they were gotten rid of I illicitly rifled through one and learned that the promise of the cover was very very legitimate. since then I've always been fascinated by them, despite now regularly reading contemporary erotica. well, I'm happy to have tried with Scoundrel's Desire, but it just wasn't very interesting. the characters were flat and unsympathetic. I love that Breanna is a capable brat, but that's about all. the the first sex scene was so mid (“he teased her nubbin,” etc.) that I didn't feel like I was going to get much out of it. still, I'm happy to have undertaken a literary endeavor so long on my mind. I look forward to trying again in the future!