Steamed: A Steampunk Romance
I tried. I tried so hard.
The main character, Jack, is the most insufferable asshole in romance history. He's a nerdy Quaker nanoelectrical engineer who loves cons and Steampunk and hasn't met a woman he can't seduce. Oh and everyone thinks he's Indiana Jones. From the second he's introduced to Octavia, the love interest, he treats her like dirt. Even if you wake up on a dirigible and believe yourself to be at a convention, you should no openly oggle a woman's breasts. You certainly cannot touch them, or her, after she tells you to stop. You should never make a woman so uncomfortable with her body that you force her to button her coat so you'll stop sexually harassing her. And if you do all of these things, she will not fall madly in lust with you. And I will not read your terrible novel where this seems like a logical and reasonable course of action.
I stopped reading once on page 89, when Jack and Olivia "share" their first kiss.
"I'm going to kiss you, Octavia Emmaline Pye."
"You may refer to me as Captain Pye, and I decline your offer," I said, a bit breathless to be true. *snip*
"Your mind says no, but your body says yes," he said, gently, persistently tugging me closer to him.
ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT. PLEASE LEARN THE CONCEPT, AUTHORS.
But, despite how badly that line pushes my buttons, I soldiered on until page 111-112 when I actually threw the book across the room. Emphasis mine.
I shook away the memory of her mouth so softly enticing beneath mine and made an effort to focus on the words that emerged from between those delectable, delicious lips. "Sorry, you asked me what? Oh, what would interest us both? I though you could tell me a little bit about your father."
Her gaze left my lips, the pupils flaring. "My father? Robert Ansthruther?"
"Yes. Matt said you were missing him. I take it he's dead?"
"He's gone, yes." She bowed her head. "And I do miss both him and his wife, Jane. As I mentioned, they were my foster parents, not my true parents, but I could not love them more if they had been."
"Does it upset you to talk about them?" I asked, my erection dying in the face of her grief. I wanted to comfort her, to take her in my arms and protect her from the sadness in the world, but I had as suspicion if I touched her, my dick would take control again.
So you pumped a crewmember for information on this woman you just met, found out about the greatest tragedy in her life, confronted her about her dead parents, and then, what, felt bad when your dick wilted? I can totally see why your secretary, who you mock behind you hand, wants another go. I'm going to stop there. Let's not ruin what we have, Jack.
