Pleasure Me by Monica Burns

Once upon a time in Ye Olde 2011, I’d never known the great joy of the addictive substance known as romance novels. I was young and naive, and possibly a bit snobbish, thinking I was too good for “those kinds of books” (insert elitist sniff). Also, you know, reading such books was quite scandalous in my Ultra-Conservative household. Tsk tsk. Anyway, I saw a review for Monica Burns’ Pleasure Me, thought that the story sounded quite good/different than one’s usual preconceptions regarding romance. Virgin heroes? Middle-aged heroines? What what? I was intrigued, so I oh-so-sneakily obtained a copy, devoured it…devoured it again. And then like 5 more times in the next year or so.

Pleasure Me honestly changed my life, so now, 5 or 6 years after the fact, I figure I owe it a proper review. It’s the least I can do, really.

Looking back, this is kind of a weird book to be one’s first romance novel. It really doesn’t have many of the more popular tropes that one sees today. No rakes, no wallflowers, no comic interludes—it’s not even Regency! Rather, Pleasure Me is a Victorian romance featuring a no-longer-20-and-fresh-faced courtesan and a virgin Baron. And if I were to describe the plot in a sentence, I’d say something like “This is a book about two people overcoming extreme anxieties/traumas…and also screwing each other silly.” Really, the plot is actually kind of nonexistent when I examine it, but it doesn’t matter so much in the long run. (Because the sex is great.)

I think it’s the particular tropes here that appeal to me so much, that drew me into reading it in the first place, and that consistently draw me back—I think I’ve read this almost 10 times, honestly. The Virgin Hero trope, for one, is huge for me. For some reason it’s really refreshing to have the roles switched and see the male protagonist in a position where he’s uncertain, inexperienced, and isn’t superlatively great. It’s also about the furthest from overconfident mansplaininess as you can get. And Burns really does well with Garrick’s characterization in this area. The reasons for his virginity will be discussed below in the section of the review dedicated to Trauma & Angst, but for now: yes. I liked how the whole thing was handled.

Ruth being a middle-aged courtesan was/is also an appealing aspect of the book. Shy, bookish wallflowers who’re convinced of their lack of appeal until some roguish lord convinces them they’re beautiful might be The Big Thing, but I like Ruth. She knows she’s gorgeous, she’s confident in her own intelligence and seductive qualities, and also dedicates her time to charities when she can. Again, she deals with lots of Trauma & Angst, but we’ll discuss this later.

So, obviously the very nature of the two tropes just discussed lends to…sex. A whole lot of sex. I feel like there’s a bit more sex in Pleasure Me than one would generally expect to find in your average romance, which was wonderfully titillating for me the first time I read this. And, now that I’ve read plenty more romances, I can now admit, also, that the spiciness level of the sexual content is Hot, much hotter than typical romance novels, which I find to be consistently medium or medium/mild. Honestly, this book is…mostly sex, with some character angst thrown in between.

And now to the promised Trauma & Angst.

Basically both our heroine and our hero spend much of the book throwing themselves massive—and I do mean massive—pity parties. Ruth is pathologically self-conscious about her age; she feels that she’s old and ugly and unlovable and tries to run away from Garrick because, obviously, he could never love an ancient hag like her. Garrick naturally overcomes her objections over time, but it takes the whole book.

Garrick, meanwhile, has remained a virgin until the ripe age of 29 due to a highly traumatizing event when he was 17, in which his abusive uncle set him up to be “seduced” with the intention of making fun of him, and in the process discovered that Garrick was born with only one testicle. Yep. Garrick spends the entire book in an agony of shame and humiliation because…only one ball. Again, this anxiety is relieved by Ruth and Garrick learns how desirable he really is, blah blah blah.

So, having highlighted to two main prongs of Burns’ attack, let’s simplify. The format of this book is usually: 1) a casual conversation between Garrick and Ruth, 2) a scene where one of them agonizes over their unique trauma, 3) a sex scene, 4) more internal angsting, 5) a conversation where one tries to convince the other to set aside their trauma, 6) more sex. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Uh…I feel like I’m talking very dismissively about this book, even though it’s the Most Important Romance I’ve ever read and definitely the one I’ve re-read most often. The thing is that Pleasure Me is super readable and super sexy, but when you examine the plot with any level of scrutiny, it’s not great. Which is why I haven’t reviewed it until now, because it’s my favorite and I must protect it at all costs. Which I will do.

Anyway, who reads romance novels expecting quality prose and storytelling? Pfft. Silly women reading silly novels written by other silly women. “Quality” is for Manly Stories About Manly Things. Like Hemingway. And John Green.

What Pleasure Me has going for it, and what I love about it, is the Super Steamy Sex Scenes (honestly my favorite of all time), the really hot chemistry between the characters even when they’re not engaged in coitus, the relatively unusual/unique characterization, and the way Ruth and Garrick’s tropes interplay. Also nostalgia, but that should be obvious by now and beside the point.

Briefly: The book that made Renae a lover of trashy fiction, featuring age differences, virgin heroes, angst, and lots of sexytimes. 10/10 would recommend.

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