TEST
Our reviewer Em gave an A- to Lucy Morris’s previous Viking book, The Viking Chief’s Marriage Alliance. I found it closer to a B, but it was still an enjoyable book. I hoped I’d find something here that was at least as good, but I emphatically didn’t.
Aimée Évreux, heiress to the Évreux estate, is in a convent, not because she is devout but because her parents’ awful relationship makes her fear marriage. Still a novice, she is shocked when Jorund Jötunnson literally batters down the door of her convent with an order that she marry him, an order approved by her father. Together, they return to Évreux, where they start to forge a life together. I would say they are hampered by his PTSD and her fears, but honestly, their biggest obstacles are assumptions and the inability to have a five minute conversation to resolve them. Here are some such obstacles:
- Jorund can’t read. Amée reads in the scroll sent by her father that if she doesn’t have a child within two winters, the land of Évreux (which Jorund married Amée for) reverts to her father. She doesn’t tell Jorund.
- Jorund sets aside the best room in Amée’s childhood home for her – one with a view of the apple tree where, unbeknownst to him, Amée’s mother hanged herself. Amée hates this room and its view, but won’t tell Jorund (even to say she wants another room without explaining the suicide).
- Jorund has nightmares from his time as a pillaging Viking. He doesn’t explain to Amée that this is why he won’t share a bed with her, so she takes it personally.
- Someone tries to kill Amée, and anybody with a brain cell will know who it has to be. Jorund not only won’t tell Amée his suspicions, but he actively lies to her that the attempted hit was just random raiders, so she resents and tries to ditch the bodyguard he seems to have given her for no reason.
- Most annoyingly, Amée is utterly convinced that Valda, a female Viking warrior, is Jorund’s mistress. Yes, eventually, she has some misleading evidence, but her suspicions begin long before she has that evidence and causes a pointlessly long estrangement.
The prose and values are modern, as when Amée admonishes herself “to be more open-minded about their differences”, or gets insights about restoring the estate from “some key families”, as though she’s a Dark Ages political consultant. Amée’s story of her mother’s mental health reads too clearly as bipolar disorder. Of course bipolar disorder existed at the time, but Amée’s description of it sounds like it’s written from a web article – a clear differential diagnosis, and entirely absent of any religious interpretation. Jorund’s PTSD is the same, and I was quite irritated that the author concurred with Amée that Jorund would never hurt her in the throes of a night terror because he loves her. That is 100% not how PTSD works.
I had some issues with the setting, but I don’t think any of these were problems that would jar a reader who isn’t a major history nerd. To give an example, Amée casually pulls a Bible out of the bag she brought with her from the convent. A Gutenberg Bible, made five hundred years later with more advanced technology, came in two volumes (each the size of a flagstone), cost somewhere in the range of $200,000 modern dollars, and weighed 14 pounds. A Bible just isn’t the sort of thing a novice nun slung around in a suitcase in 914 AD. Still, I acknowledge that most people won’t notice or care about this. I did appreciate the way Princess Gisla laughs off Amée’s concerns about a mistress, because mistresses are to be expected.
One unexpected win here? The epilogue, with twin babies, complete with exhaustion for Amée and a feeling that nursing makes her “more of a prize cow than a wife.” Oh, I felt that, and laughed. That epilogue alone, and the high note it left me on, probably lifted this book from the D range.
I’m sorry to say that after a strong first Viking romance, Lucy Morris is going in the wrong direction with A Nun for the Viking Warrior. I hope she can get it together for future books.
Buy it at Amazon or your local independent retailer
Visit our Amazon Storefront
Grade: C-
Book Type: Historical Romance
Sensuality: Warm
Review Date: 26/10/21
Publication Date: 10/2021
Recent Comments …
Yep
This sounds delightful! I’m grabbing it, thanks
excellent book: interesting, funny dialogs, deep understanding of each character, interesting secondary characters, and also sexy.
I don’t think anyone expects you to post UK prices – it’s just a shame that such a great sale…
I’m sorry about that. We don’t have any way to post British prices as an American based site.
I have several of her books on my TBR and after reading this am moving them up the pile.
I'm a history geek and educator, and I've lived in five different countries in North America, Asia, and Europe. In addition to the usual subgenres, I'm partial to YA, Sci-fi/Fantasy, and graphic novels. I love to cook.
Related Reviews
I definitely did not like this one nearly as much as the first book from Ms. Morris. And I want to clarify my grade of that story just a bit. I love Viking books and there are too few “good” ones out there. That helped with the grade. It was a debut and I was excited for the author. That also helped with the grade. After reading A Nun, I reconsidered my earlier grade – but I think it felt/feels right to me. I enjoyed that story very much and it got a bump for the aforementioned reasons.
Now this story is a different kettle of fish altogether. I don’t like the title…but just because I think it is is dumb. Not for any religious reasons. I didn’t like the heroine or identify with her or grow to like her; the villains weren’t villainous enough; the hero isn’t fully realized; the only other significant female character is cast as a competitor instead of as a friend and that’s annoying, too.
This grade is the same I one I would have awarded the story.
I love Viking stories too and I enjoyed the Morris book as well!
Not Catholic, but I find the title deeply offensive.
Hi, Caryl. Does the title offend you because of its inaccuracy (the heroine is technically a novice, meaning she hasn’t taken her final vows), or are you uncomfortable with the implication that someone contemplating religious life is abandoning her original calling in favor of married life?
I’m not asking this to start a fight, by the way. I was raised Catholic and understand why the premise- not just the title- could cause offense. There is, in fact, a long history of sensationalist literature about women being “rescued” from convents in order to have a traditional, more Protestant-friendly HEA.
There are definitely ways to handle this type of story respectfully though, think Sound of Music. But if it’s a title issue alone, would you be more comfortable if this book were instead called A Novice for the Viking Warrior or Captured from the Convent or left out the religious connotations entirely? I’d be curious to hear some more of your thoughts on this because I know it’s a complicated issue.
Hi Nan,
Inaccurate and therefore manipulatively offensive around a religious topic.
I don’t object to the character’s decision not to go through with her vows, since she appears just to be sheltering there, just the disrespectful marketing.
Thanks for asking, Nan.
You are welcome, and thanks for elaborating upon your position.
FWIW, this isn’t the first time I have observed manipulative/inaccurate marketing from Harlequin (something I would never blame authors for, by the way, as they generally have no say in titles and product descriptions). Recently, a reviewer complained about the title of A Blues Singer to Redeem Him as the hero doesn’t really need redemption in the manner implied by the speakeasy/jazz club setting. Moreover, Harlequin’s submission site described this recent acquisition as “a blues singer who meets her mobster hero in a 1920s speakeasy” when the hero is nothing of the kind! I realize it’s not as catchy to tell potential authors “a blues singer who meets her son of a mobster hero who is trying to make an honest life for himself away from the stain of his family’s crimes,” even though that’s accurate. (BTW, I wrote a scathing review for this book on AAR that makes it clear how the title and advertising the least of its many problems, but I digress.)
As for A Nun for the Viking Warrior, I turned down my library hold today. Like many have commented below, I just wouldn’t be able to get past the anachronistic purse-sized Bible and overly modern attitudes.
The “exoticization” in the title here I think is the issue – the idea that the hero might go with a nun is meant to titillate. A good lesson in empathy for what it feels like to be part of a culture that produces sheikhs.
This is an interesting area where I think the genres of romance and erotica overlap. Like titillating erotica titles, a lot of Harlequin titles tap into readers’ emotional desires, which often include a desire for the “exotic.” Harlequin Presents, in particular, still includes such advertisements as “These stories are pure romantic fantasy with glitzy, glamorous, international settings to upstage even the swankiest of red-carpet premiers!” And one editor “can’t get enough of a sexy accent…so if you have a delicious hero from a striking, exotic location, send them her way!” Hence, you get such titles as Innocent in the Sheikh’s Palace and The Sicilian’s Ruthless Marriage Revenge.
While I understand why people grit their teeth at stories and titles like these, I also defend their existence because readers obviously want this stuff. I mean, who wants to have a politically correct romance and/or sexual fantasy? Maybe some readers do and more power to them. But for those who have a specific interest in naughty nuns or salacious sheikhs, blunt titles can really help them find what they are looking for. And, conversely, they can ward of readers who find the premises offensive. I’m not saying publishers couldn’t do a better job with some of their advertising but I’m not condemning it outright either.
As an HP aficionado, I also think it’s likely that the editorial board comes up with the titles and then basically tells the writers to shoehorn it somehow into their storylines. You get an “exotic”hero (Sheikh, Italian, Greek, Spaniard, King/Prince), a heroine defined by either her “innocence,” her value as bride/wife/mistress, or some combination thereof, and the crux of the plot (secret baby, unplanned pregnancy, arranged marriage, arranged affair, debt repayment, revenge, amnesia) all tied up in a neat package of a title: THE GREEK’S IMPOSSIBLE VIRGIN WIFE, MARRIED FOR THE SHEIKH’S REVENGE, THE SPANIARD’S SECRET CINDERELLA, etc. I think it takes incredible skill for a writer to balance the aspirations of (let’s face it) a rather outlandish title against the need to provide a plot with ultimately sympathetic MCs who readers really root for, regardless of how far-fetched the original premise may be. And, the fact is, most people who read HPs avidly (there are eight new titles per month, so those who wish to consume mass quantities of HPs can easily do so) are basically in on the bait-and-switch: we know the plot, angsty & operatic as it may be, will never live up to the cray-cray title, nor was it meant to.
I had a feeling you’d be writing in as soon as I mentioned Harlequin Presents. :-)
Ha hah! I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that were the case. And I agree with you that it takes a lot of talent to write within the line’s stringent requirements. Actually, I’ve found that to be true of category romance in general. Authors have to be superb at plotting in order to stay within those word count requirements, hit all the expected beats/tropes, and keep readers turning the pages with excitement, high drama, and cliff hangers. As someone whose weakest writing point is plotting, I salute them one and all!
Yes—I have tremendous respect for category romance writers (my HP Queens include Caitlin Crews, Jackie Ashenden, Clare Connelly, Kelly Hunter, and Maisey Yates) because of how difficult it is to write to the template and still manage to be creative within those parameters.
Good work Caroline; I admit the plot of this one sounds intriguing to me but ugh, the implausibility.
Great review, Caroline. I guess it’s safe to say that you strongly disagree with the GR poster who commented “A Nun for the Viking Warrior is as gorgeous as the cover, the story will take you on an unforgettable journey that will leave you breathless for more.“
I mean, I wanted more, but I think not in the same way as that commenter! More accuracy, more communication, more historical attitudes….
I often suspect reviews like that are written by members of the author’s street team… or their mum!
Haha, yes, there were only a handful of reviews, and most of them were glowing! I immediately thought “friends and family”.
That may be true in some cases, but I think there are genuinely a lot of readers who are easily satisfied as long as an author hits all the right beats. I mean, I don’t go around soliciting reviews or have a street team for my work but still get surprising amounts of four and five star ratings for stuff I know is just fluff. Yes, it’s flattering, but once I pull myself down from the ego cloud, I have to ask myself, “What does it mean that somebody just gave five stars to something called ‘Cora’s Cowboy Cuckold?’ James Clavell’s Shogun, it ain’t.”
Agree with that 100%. Totally useless reviews like that are blindingly obvious and cringeworthy!!
That cover? What on earth possessed the designer to dress a nun that way in the 10th century? Or are we just supposed to think nuns are somehow timeless?
The Bible element would have taken me right out of the story. Before the advent of the printing press, Bibles were so rare, they were usually chained to a lectern in a church to prevent theft. Also, they were massive—every word was handwritten and there were usually illuminations illustrating the margins and the body of the text. Definitely not the sort of thing a nun would throw into her bag! Not to mention at the time few men—and even fewer women, including women of the church—could read or write, so the purpose of lugging an enormous book makes even less sense. I have this humorous image of a nun toting the medieval equivalent of the printed Encyclopedia Britannica in an enormous bag that she hefts from place to place.
Maybe she’s a kind of medieval Mary Poppins with a bottomless carpet bag…
Which, I now realize, J. K. Rowling borrowed from for a bag Hermione uses in the last book that enables her, Ron, and Harry to travel all over and carry things like portraits and giant textbooks. Really, I need one of those.
Ha! In D&D we have “Bags of Holding” which are basically portable dimension doors. Now I wonder if the original creators got that idea from Mary Poppins! :-)
Also, some early books were made with heavy wooden covers. (I think they were used more to protect the valuable book rather than show off the title or cover art.) There are also old covers made of ivory — and even precious metal with ornate jewels. Nobody is going to hand one of these off to a nun and let her wander off to her new home with it.
A Bible! How big was her bag? It might have made more sense for her to have a psalter as they were smaller. (And nuns and monks recited from them.) Even then, it would depend on so many factors.
Oh, darn! I had this on hold through Overdrive at my library, thrilled that they were finally adding another Harlequin Historical to their digital catalog- one that sounded intriguing at first glance. After this review, I think I’ll be cancelling my hold. Thanks for slogging through this one, Caroline.