by Loretta Chase.

 From the first pages, this book made me chuckle. It has all the Necessary Elements for a romance, but has skimmed out the contrived formulaic stuff. 

It starts with widowed Daphne Pembroke purchasing Rupert Carsington's release so that he may help her find her kidnapped brother.  He quickly tries to size her up.

     "I do not see the relevance of my height or hair color," she said.

     "That's because youre not a man," he said.

     Very much not.  The dress seemed designed to play down her assets rather than enhance them.  She couldn't disguise her walk, though.  She walked like a queen or a goddess, chin high, back straight.  But the arrogant sway of her hips bespoke a Cleopatra kind of queen, an Aphrodite kind of goddess.  The walk was an invitation.  The attire was a Keep Off sign.  The combination was fascinating.

      The dialogue is witty and sweet all the way through.  I like that the heroine is strong without being the typical headstrong, spoiled beauty.  This Regency is set in Egypt, so there is no Hyde Park or Almacks or young ladies dancing the waltz. 

     Instead of telling us that Rupert is strong and dark and a little wild, Chase resorts to wonderful word pictures.

     She had felt, for a moment, like a character in The Thousand and One Nights who'd inadvertently let a genie out of a bottle. A large, powerful, and uncontrollable genie. 

    He is an excellent foil to Daphne's studious seriousness.  There's respect between the two, and none of the silly misunderstandings considered essential in romances.  That's something I enjoy about Chase's work in general.  Drama without a lot of nonsensical agony. Breathtaking scenery, fast-paced plot, heroines you'd like for colleagues or daughters-in-law. Protagonists who probably look like our favorite actors.  Characters arrive at revelations without ripping a strip of hide off.  In some of my favorite authors' work, real-life people would give up and walk away in the scenarios depicted.

     Not that Mr. Impossible is a heavy historical, but it conveys the feel of real people, complete with the frustrations of their social strictures. I can imagine Daphne's stifled brainpower, and her relief that Rupert is not daunted, but rather enchanted by it.  

     In contrast, I read Julie Quinn's The Marquis Who Loved Me this week. I just don't think that noblemen of that time period helped to walk dogs.  I doubt that men in general fall for girls less beautiful than their little sisters, unless a very good description of the attraction is sketched in. But you don't read the nutrition breakdown of a jelly donut expecting to find fiber and protein and vitamins. 
      In contrast, some authors give more than a sugar high. When Georgette Heyer writes a lot of nonsense,she provides the foibles that make magic out of the incongruities.  With some of My Favorite Writers, I can only believe when I'm in the mood, like clapping for Tinkerbell.  Escape reading isn't usually brain food.
   But...Loretta Chase is in a class all by herself.  I dare to say that all her books....so far...are entertaining on a number of levels, and I can read her stuff without hating myself in the morning.