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A review by golden_lily
Her Every Wish by Courtney Milan
2.0
Six months ago, Daisy and Crash were in love. Then, minutes after the first physical act, it all fell to pieces. Now Crash, a charming and genial scoundrel, is trying to turn legit with London's first velocipede shop and Daisy, the poor flower girl best friend from Judith's book, has entered to win a 50 pound prize at the local parish to open an emporium of women's goods.
You don't see a lot of historical romances from the POV of England's lower class of the Victorian era, and the reason is it's sad. It's sad to see Daisy struggle to keep coal in the stove and her mother bed ridden with rheumatism before 50. It's sad to hear Crash's story of his slave grandmother throwing herself overboard to escape her rapist and her (and his mother's) eventual turn as a dockside prostitute. He's proud of his lineage of strong women, and after hearing about them, I am too, but it's still sad. Crash's mix of Caribbean, Indian, and maybe Chinese or French or is it Portuguese? definitely lends the book a diverse air not found in other Victorian romances, as does his casual bisexuality, but it's not enough to overcome the big mis.
After having sex, Crash tells Daisy he's going straight, casually relating a tale of a time he stole. Daisy, having strong English morals, knows stealing is wrong. So she tells Crash she forgives him. Crash, not looking for absolution, becomes upset and Daisy can't understand why. She's thoughtless and privileged and hurtful and that's wrong, but it's the kind of romance novel wrong between two leads that I could move on from. Crash however, makes a conscious decision to hurt Daisy the way she's hurt him. He tells her she is a waste.
You could write me 150,000 words after that and I will never be able to ship the h/h. There can be no HEA. No amount of groveling, no delightful banter about tea and pastries and orgasms can pull back those words. It doesn't matter that Crash teaches Daisy to keep her head high and to push away insults, because his would already be in her heart. Any ending that doesn't conclude with her believing those shards of doubt her beloved put there, is false. You can't unring a bell, not even a romantic fantasy.
You don't see a lot of historical romances from the POV of England's lower class of the Victorian era, and the reason is it's sad. It's sad to see Daisy struggle to keep coal in the stove and her mother bed ridden with rheumatism before 50. It's sad to hear Crash's story of his slave grandmother throwing herself overboard to escape her rapist and her (and his mother's) eventual turn as a dockside prostitute. He's proud of his lineage of strong women, and after hearing about them, I am too, but it's still sad. Crash's mix of Caribbean, Indian, and maybe Chinese or French or is it Portuguese? definitely lends the book a diverse air not found in other Victorian romances, as does his casual bisexuality, but it's not enough to overcome the big mis.
After having sex, Crash tells Daisy he's going straight, casually relating a tale of a time he stole. Daisy, having strong English morals, knows stealing is wrong. So she tells Crash she forgives him. Crash, not looking for absolution, becomes upset and Daisy can't understand why. She's thoughtless and privileged and hurtful and that's wrong, but it's the kind of romance novel wrong between two leads that I could move on from. Crash however, makes a conscious decision to hurt Daisy the way she's hurt him. He tells her she is a waste.
"Very well. Do do you want me to forgive you for your mother? She'll be a burden, that's for sure. Shall I forgive you for working in a shop? I know you flirt with the men who come by. ... I forgive you the fact that you were raised to think yourself better than you are. ... I forgive you your impertinent and umwomanly desire to be more. ... I forgive you your utter ignorance in bed," he had continued, "and your maidenly qualms. Hell, I'll forgive you your very existence in return. Even though, as these things are reckoned, you are a complete waste of a woman."
You could write me 150,000 words after that and I will never be able to ship the h/h. There can be no HEA. No amount of groveling, no delightful banter about tea and pastries and orgasms can pull back those words. It doesn't matter that Crash teaches Daisy to keep her head high and to push away insults, because his would already be in her heart. Any ending that doesn't conclude with her believing those shards of doubt her beloved put there, is false. You can't unring a bell, not even a romantic fantasy.