Heroes (Hollywood Heartthrobs #1) by Kate Rivers Page A

but I find the frame narrative implausible.”
    “Um,
what?” Dean asked.
    “The
frame narrative,” Jane repeated. “It appears from the back cover blurb that the
story centers on Catherine and Heathcliff and their tempestuous love affair,
but the book itself begins years after Catherine’s death. A visitor to the,
yaknow, titular property thinks he sees her ghost, so he asks a servant to tell
him the story of Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship. In order to support
that particular narrative structure, not only are we, the readers, expected to
accept that the servant woman can remember all the relevant details of the
story decades later, but that she heard them in the first place. There’s a
great deal of listening in at keyholes and accidentally stumbling upon the
star-crossed lovers at inopportune times, and so on and so forth. The author
needs to constantly work this outside character into Catherine’s and
Heathcliff’s most intimate moments. I think it’s a terribly distracting
convention.” 
    Dean
shook his head slightly. Tempestuous? Titular? A distracting narrative
convention? Who talks like that? Wonders never cease with this girl.
    Jane
went on with hardly a pause. “But then I started reading this instead. Much
more engaging. The language seemed a bit impenetrable at the start, but a few
pages in you start to pick up the rhythm of it.” She held up a copy of The
Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. “The trick is to sound the words out,
then it’s pie.”
    Dean’s
eyes widened. “Jane, I think you might be an English teacher or something,” he
said quickly.
    Jane
considered the suggestion for a moment. She’s definitely thoughtful, thought
Dean. “Possibly. I do seem to have strong feelings about some of these books,
even though I don’t recognize them.”
    “Teaching
would suit you I think,” Dean said with a smile.
    “Is
that a compliment?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Well,
in that case I should focus on the best books I suppose. Care to help me?” she
waved a hand vaguely at the stack. “Anything you would recommend?”
    Dean
looked over the books. Several appeared to be from some sort of classics
reprint edition, plus a few paperback romances and mysteries. He pointed to a
collection of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. “Those are classics. Sherlock
Holmes, consulting detective. Brilliant mind, funny hat.” That was worth a
smirk from Jane. Next to that was a copy of Frankenstein . “Ooh, this one
too.”
    “Yeah,
I think I caught part of a movie version of that on TV this morning. Some black
and white production. Doctor builds a monster man, rampages through village.”
    “Oh,
no,” Dean said, warming to the topic now that he felt on solid ground. “You’ve
got to read it. None of the movies do this one justice. I read it because I was
auditioning for an adaptation, the character of the monster is so different in
the original text from anything they ever show on screen. Read this one.”
    “You
got it,” Jane said, smiling at his enthusiasm. “But, go back a second, you
mentioned auditioning. Are you an actor? I realize I haven’t asked you what you
do.”
    Dean
hesitated a second before answering. “Yes. Not a particularly good or famous
one, though.”
    Jane
looked at him playfully. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I think it would
suit you.”
    “I’m
fairly sure that is not a compliment,” Dean retorted with mock offense.
    “No,
no, I meant it in a good way. You’ve got that whole dashing hero thing down
pat. I’m living proof.” She winked at him. He found it suddenly difficult to
breathe for the tightening in his chest. God, what was it with this girl? He
looked back at the table and saw one slim volume he hadn’t yet noticed. It
read, William’s Shakespeare’s The Life of King Henry V.
    “Um,
Jane? Favor to ask.”
    “What’s
that?”
    He
picked up Henry V . “Please don’t read this.”
    “What?”
she asked. “Why