There was a period in my life when I read romances like a movie fan unconcerned with her health eats tubs of popcorn laden with gooey, urine yellow faux butter. Those days have been long gone. Since, romances have generally left me yawning. All those perky, perfect heroines and those men with six-pack abs. Not for me.
So I was delighted recently to pick up A Spear of Summer Grass by Deanna Raybourn. Her heroine is anything but perky and perfect. I'll let Delilah Drummond speak for herself through the pen of the ever-so-talented Ms. Raybourn:
Don't believe the stories you have heard about me. I have never killed anyone, and I have never stolen another woman's husband. Oh, if I find one lying around unattended, I might climb on, but I never took one that didn't want taking. And I never meant to go to Africa. I blame it on the weather. It was a wretched day in Paris, grey and gloomy and spitting with rain, when I was summoned to my mother's suite at the Hotel de Crillon. I had dressed carefully for the occasion . . . I put on a divine little Molyneux dress in scarlet silk with matching cloche . . .
If you would like to duplicate Delilah's look, I suggest 1920s Butterick 2070, available at The Blue Gardenia, of course. You might top it with this delightful Adrienne Henry cloche. I think Ms. Drummond would approve. Emphatically.
And I highly recommend this book. It's as addictive as that unhealthy movie popcorn. You won't be able to put it down.
And be sure to take advantage of our end-of-year sale! It's a dooz!