Stranger in My Arms has one of the archetypal figures I enjoy most in romance novels: the accomplished man who defends his family, has excellent self-control, and fucks like a master. Hunter is well-written, and if at certain points he is manipulative he redeems himself later by reaffirming and supporting Lara’s autonomy within their relationship. Lara herself is great. her gradual embrace of sexuality feels natural and she is a kind person who literally helps orphans but isn’t a total drip. there was predictable intrigue, but it was predictable like a favorite candy is reliably delicious. this novel was designed to ensnare me.

as a little bonus I liked that the characters hold the racial/cultural sensibilities of the time but with a realistic degree of complexity. it’s easy to forget that there have always been people who see through christian ethnocentrism. and at the same time, that the people who do are not anti-racist superheroes. I think Hunter and Lara embody the contradictions of British racial sensibilities quite well. I also applaud Kleypas for using ritual violence against women in 19th century Indian culture as a comparison point for socially-facilitated violence against women in western cultures. her example could very easily have veered toward the exploitative and it did not; instead she made it clear that domestic abuse is a global phenomenon with different manifestations in different parts of the world and that no patriarchal culture is exempt.