Prism Book Alliance, Josie Goodreads
I loved Mending Him and recommend it to anyone who loves historical stories with wounded heroes that need lots of tender care.
The Novel Approach, 5 stars, Reviewer Rena
A pitch perfect historical romance … I’ve read a good number of Devon and Dee’s books, and it’s quite safe to say that MENDING HIM, as far as I’m concerned, is their best offering yet.
Boys in Our Books, 4 stars, Reviewer Ami
Charles — in his rakish way — saw Robbie for more than his worth and Charles challenged Robbie to dream bigger. While Robbie, with his shyness and loyalty to the Chester family, made Charles learn to be less reckless. They were really lovely together — including during their intimate moments.
The Blogger Girls, 4 stars, Reviewer Heather C
This was a very sweet story. Not the sappy, disgustingly sweet that I hate, but the adorable, happy romance that put a huge smile on my face. Both characters are easily likable and their friendship and attraction to each other is very believable. Two lost souls coming together over disability and recovery.
Rainbow Book Reviews, Reviewer Lena
This is a great historical romance, written in the language of the times, adding credibility and authenticity to the plot. It’s well-written, with interesting characters, and a few unexpected plot changes, which kept my interest. I recommend it to everyone who enjoys a historical romance, passionate men, and true love overcoming almost impossible obstacles.
Joyfully Jay, 4 stars
I am a big fan of Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon’s historicals and MENDING HIM was another really delightful story. Robbie and Charles are such an interesting match and I loved the way things develop between them.
Lovebytes Reviews, 4 stars
This story is a sweet, tender love story that made my heart smile while I read it. I loved seeing these two men who both have come a long way in the own ways, to find the one who loves and accepts them for the wonderful person that they are.
Heroes and Heartbreakers, Reviewer John Jacobson
Robbie’s consistency and rule-following appeals to Charles, whereas Charles’s rakish past is the excitement that Robbie desires a little more in his life. Their circumstances force them together in ways that lead to inevitable honesty. MENDING HIM was like dark chocolate: sweet enough to be a dessert, and bitter enough to do the flavors justice.
Romantic Times Reviews, 4 stars
Strong, likeable characters will have you rooting for them from the first page to the last as they move through a fast-paced plot to a satisfying ending.
Robbie Grayson could have been scornful or appalled at his drunkennness or simply left him to the servants, but he had come in and taken charge and treated Charles with simple friendliness.
Charles glanced over at him. Robbie stood in only his shirtsleeves and some poorly tailored trousers. He’d hooked his thumbs in the braces and leaned a hip against a low bookshelf, the picture of a gentleman at leisure.
“Let me know if you require my aid,” he said when their eyes met. He looked away; Charles didn’t. Enough alcohol still swirled through his system that he allowed himself a thorough perusal.
Grayson’s shoulders weren’t broad, but he was pleasingly proportioned, and the lines of muscle in his forearms demonstrated hidden strength, Charles fancied. The dark hair on Robbie’s arms showed him to be an adult male, not the youth he seemed at first.
Grayson straightened and shuffled near, reaching down to the more-or-less clean, damp spot on the carpet. He grimaced.
“That shoulder is causing you pain.” Charles was not used to feeling shame, and he wasn’t relishing the weight of it as he recalled how the man’s shoulder had been hurt from Charles toppling onto him like some great oaf.
“It’s much better.” Grayson straightened. “I apologize for not being properly dressed. I was getting ready for bed when I decided someone ought to check on you. I believe I might have heard a thump?”
He’d been getting ready for bed? Charles noticed now the slits of light between the heavy library curtains had vanished. Now the only sources of light were two lamps on the desk that had been shoved into a corner to make room for the cot.
Had Grayson lit them?
Charles had lost hours, and dinnertime as well, which was a pity because his now-empty stomach had begun to grumble.
He awkwardly folded the waistcoat, set it on the floor next to him and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Robbie straightened and looked away. “I’d offer to help, but I think I’d be more likely to get in your way.”
Charles would love to drawl something about how he wouldn’t mind at all if his dear new friend Robbie got in his way. But, of course, he would not. Although he swore he felt a glimmer of…something simmering in the air between them, it was more likely his hopeful sot’s imagination. He would never risk trying to seduce the one man who’d treated him kindly and possibly end up driving him off.
Of course, that driver, Forrester had also been quite kind, sharing the last of his whisky. Charles pulled off his shirt, considering that one change in his new existence that seemed rather freeing. He wasn’t used to thinking of servants as any sort of companion. In the past, he wouldn’t even talk about personal things with someone like McNair. He’d certainly never noticed the in-between people, men like Robbie, who was not a servant yet appeared to act like a butler or major domo in this house.
“I’m eternally grateful to you, Mr. Grayson.” Charles met the translucent gray-green eyes, which seemed to grow sharper even as they examined him.
“You’re feeling more the thing? Less dreadful?” Robbie said.
Charles nodded. If he could imagine touching that caring face, drawing it close for a kiss or two, he definitely felt more like himself. “I’ve rallied, thanks to you.”
Robbie laid his hands on Charles’s shoulders and carefully squatted. Those hands were large for his slender size and obviously strong. Charles examined them. Definitely bitten nails. His gaze traveled again to the bit of hair that showed at the top of Robbie’s unbuttoned shirt. Charles raised his eyes and met the cool gaze. They remained locked together that way for a powerful few moments. Suddenly, the slight Robbie seemed less inconsequential. Charles raised his own hand, intending to cover the warm, strong grip on his shoulder.
“I shall not tell my aunt and uncle about this evening, but the servants know and will likely complain,” Robbie whispered, which showed he believed servants to be listening. “This family is not liberal in its views. There is little tolerance for anything unconventional.” He paused, then added, “Such as overindulgence in drink.”
Charles’s hand froze. He lowered it. There was dark warning in those words. Not a threat, of course, but something hard as steel. A message which curbed his budding desire and let him know in unequivocal terms that there was no place for it to take root and grow.
Charles swallowed his thousandth apology and only said, “Ah.”
Robbie squeezed both shoulders once, fast, then released his grip. “I needed to warn you.” He lurched awkwardly to his feet. Charles reached out to steady him.
“Oh no, I’m quite used to my own clumsiness.” The light, pleasant tone had returned to his voice. “I’ll remain here and wait until I know you’ll be all right.”
A light scratch came at the door.
Stewart entered, carrying two empty containers. One was the vase, which he put on the cabinet. The other was a flowered chamber pot. Robbie nodded, and the footman slid it under the cot.
“It was entirely our fault for forgetting such an important detail. I hope you will forgive us?” Robbie spoke in a normal voice, instead of the middle-of-the-night hushed tones they’d been employing. He watched Stewart, not Charles.
Nice of him to try to remove the blame that belonged to Charles. “Of course,” Charles said.
“Stewart, please help Mr. Worthington back into his bed.” Robbie’s smile seemed perfunctory. “Good night, Cousin Charles. I hope you feel better.” He plunked the ugly flower arrangement back into the urn, then hurried out of the room.
Ruffled. Like a cat whose fur has been stroked the wrong way. Crackles and pops of static electricity prickled his skin and zipped through his bloodstream. Robbie did not care for the feeling. Nor had he been prepared for a stab of lust to spear through him when he’d merely gone to offer a helping hand to the newcomer.
When he’d imagined Worthington’s arrival, at best he’d hoped to gain a friend, someone to spend an amiable hour with now and again. At worse, he’d feared an arrogant snob who would ignore or talk down to him. He had not expected Charles Worthington, with his dark brown eyes so full of pain and his deep voice rumbling in way that upset Robbie’s equilibrium.
This would not do, as Aunt Lenore would say.
The flutter of excitement that ricocheted around inside him must be exterminated immediately. He’d succeeded in quashing this sort undesirable attraction before, of course. He’d simply left any room Uncle Phillip’s lawyer’s assistant entered. That man, slender and meek, barely resembled Worthington, but both had smiles that sparked that same swirling fear in Robbie. He’d easily shed that old infatuation and no longer thought of that assistant’s hands or smile except of course, at night or quiet times alone.
He deemed it best to keep his distance from Worthington for a while. Let the man gain his bearings here on his own, and, in the meantime, Robbie might find his footing again too.