It’s February and while we’re covered in about 20 inches of snow and all I want is to hibernate until the grass is green again, it’s also the month of love. Am I a romantic person? No, not really. At least not in real life. On paper? Oh yes. I love my angst and I want my heroes to suffer, I don’t even need that Happily Ever After, but I do want some comfort with my hurt.
Now, when I read the theme “Lovers come hither”, I don’t know why, but it made me think of Scarlett O’Hara.
I must’ve been about six years old when I saw the movie Gone With The Wind for the first time. I didn’t understand much about what was going on at the time (apart from pretty, pretty dresses), but it struck a cord. When I was old enough I devoured the book until my grandmother’s already worn paperback started to lose pages.
“No, my dear, I'm not in love with you, no more than you are with me, and if I were, you would be the last person I'd ever tell. God help the man who ever really loves you. You'd break his heart, my darling, cruel, destructive little cat who is so careless and confident she doesn't even trouble to sheathe her claws.”
― Margaret Mitchell
There was something forbidden about that Rhett Butler, something I didn’t understand at the time but had me enthralled anyway. In The House on Hancock Hill Jason bites into a forbidden fruit too. The childhood friend he hasn’t seen in fifteen years has never been with another guy, and Jason knows he can’t stick around for more than a few days, but when the opportunity presents itself, he’s not saying no.
There’s something irresistible about wanting what we shouldn’t want, or what we can’t have. Rhett Butler was pretty much my bad boy crush until I knew better (actually, I still don’t), but even back then I wanted Rhett and Ashley to interact in touchy-feely ways I didn’t understand. So next time anyone asks about my reading/writing preferences, I will blame Rhett Butler. After all, the first encounter with an alpha male has to leave an impression, right?
Was I the only one who detected some BDSM undertones in that book?
“I want to make you faint. I will make you faint. You've had this coming to you for years. None of the fools you've known have kissed you like this - have they?” — Margaret Mitchell
There isn’t any BDSM in The House on Hancock Hill, but there are a few situations where Jason and Henry don’t hesitate to take what they want. They’re grown men, and while they spend most of the book on different wavelengths, they still collide. (naked)
While I’ve been writing this, I’ve been wondering if Jason is the type to do Valentine’s Day, and I have to conclude he’s not. But he would be the type of guy to sneak some of his homemade crème fraîche from the bakery up to his bedroom.
Oh wait, he already did.
And he’ll never go hungry again…
Pastry chef and bakery owner Jason Wood bakes a mean chocolate soufflé, yet his love life keeps falling flat. He’d blame his past if he wasn’t trying so hard to avoid it.
When his family’s farmhouse burns to the ground, he’s summoned to identify a body found in the ashes. Jason returns to Hancock, Michigan, and reunites with a childhood friend, small town vet Henry McCavanaugh. After fifteen years apart, their rekindled friendship soon develops into much more. But Jason’s baggage threatens their blossoming romance, and he leaves town unannounced to escape his feelings—and Henry’s feelings for him. He has learned the hard way if something seems too good to be true, it’s best to run for the hills. Jason stress-bakes more confections than he knows what to do with before wondering if he’s running in the wrong direction.