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A review by nuriamm
A Game of Hearts by Joanna Barker
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
5.0
Bookish friends, I hope you’re all happy with your smug smiles knowing I had no idea what was about to hit me. For that last half, I turned as feral romance reader as one can get without waking up the household with giddy squealing. It was a close call.
Everything I love about historical romance right here but within such a refreshing scenario of cliffside archery tournaments. The rivals rivaled, the banter bantered, the arbitrary societal strictures that would have completely accidental, innocent near-death experiences turned into total reputation annihilation…did their thing. Such a new favorite I self-sabotaged and absolutely slept too long on.
But we’ll start with our hero, of course. We have ourselves a delectably layered one. Mr. Tristan Gates, all capable, self-assured, commanding presence, an orphan/adopted heir turned ambitious self-made man that would rather wittle his own bow with a pen knife, and possibly even poke himself with it, than attend a social function. He’s a young’un but really he’s one of those where we’re just waiting for his age to catch up with his personality. And that is of a stoic, awkward grump with a protective streak that will just devastate you with how matter-of-fact he is with the “If this is important to you, it is to me” wielding. Seeing him fall was the absolute best because of the “The harder they fall” of it all. As Disney’s Belle admired, “And now he’s dear and so unsure” as his POV turns into a self-deprecating, self-sacrificing goner. I mean, thank goodness my kids sleep with white noise machines.
And Tristan may be a lot more than just a grump, but Miss Marigold Cartwell is not exactly sunshine either. She’s like a, both literal and figurative, straight-shooting, sardonic gale. In his own famous last words: “I did not fear a challenge, and Marigold was the very definition of the word.”
Again, one of my favorite aspects of historical: it’s not just about joining a dumb boys-only archery club. Even within her privilege, highly competent, ambitious, if not impetuous, women like Mari had very little of individual satisfaction and control, much less seeing their reaching to having it “all” fulfilled. I loved how this worked within those context limitations while still pushing just enough. A girl could and can have her sports club, her supportive community, her due recognition, her loving family, AND her rival-turned-ally-turned-champion-turned-love. Add swoon-your-bonnet-off gestures and kisses. Can’t forget those. Won’t forget those.
When we have such a tense “Will they get the words out?” build up to a resolution so fabulously full-circle, the squealing turns to cheering. I do love a couple you know will be lovingly bickering, one-upping and wagering into the here after. So happy I could stave off my stubborn ways enough to finally read this love story perfection.
Conter notes: Kissing Only. Mention of parent-loss grief.
Everything I love about historical romance right here but within such a refreshing scenario of cliffside archery tournaments. The rivals rivaled, the banter bantered, the arbitrary societal strictures that would have completely accidental, innocent near-death experiences turned into total reputation annihilation…did their thing. Such a new favorite I self-sabotaged and absolutely slept too long on.
But we’ll start with our hero, of course. We have ourselves a delectably layered one. Mr. Tristan Gates, all capable, self-assured, commanding presence, an orphan/adopted heir turned ambitious self-made man that would rather wittle his own bow with a pen knife, and possibly even poke himself with it, than attend a social function. He’s a young’un but really he’s one of those where we’re just waiting for his age to catch up with his personality. And that is of a stoic, awkward grump with a protective streak that will just devastate you with how matter-of-fact he is with the “If this is important to you, it is to me” wielding. Seeing him fall was the absolute best because of the “The harder they fall” of it all. As Disney’s Belle admired, “And now he’s dear and so unsure” as his POV turns into a self-deprecating, self-sacrificing goner. I mean, thank goodness my kids sleep with white noise machines.
And Tristan may be a lot more than just a grump, but Miss Marigold Cartwell is not exactly sunshine either. She’s like a, both literal and figurative, straight-shooting, sardonic gale. In his own famous last words: “I did not fear a challenge, and Marigold was the very definition of the word.”
Again, one of my favorite aspects of historical: it’s not just about joining a dumb boys-only archery club. Even within her privilege, highly competent, ambitious, if not impetuous, women like Mari had very little of individual satisfaction and control, much less seeing their reaching to having it “all” fulfilled. I loved how this worked within those context limitations while still pushing just enough. A girl could and can have her sports club, her supportive community, her due recognition, her loving family, AND her rival-turned-ally-turned-champion-turned-love. Add swoon-your-bonnet-off gestures and kisses. Can’t forget those. Won’t forget those.
When we have such a tense “Will they get the words out?” build up to a resolution so fabulously full-circle, the squealing turns to cheering. I do love a couple you know will be lovingly bickering, one-upping and wagering into the here after. So happy I could stave off my stubborn ways enough to finally read this love story perfection.
Conter notes: Kissing Only. Mention of parent-loss grief.