I read Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca recently, which was adapted into the wonderful Hitchcock movie of the same name with Laurence Olivier. The book is from 1938 and holds up tolerably well. The narrator is twenty but for a long time she's as annoying as a 12 year old. She's a lot easier to take in movie form where you don't have to be inside her head.

But the book is still pretty good. There's definitely a few more plot twists and turns than in the movie.

The biggest downside was the romance-novel-style cover. It's hard to take any book seriously with a cover like this.

The last romance I read was a free Harlequin eBook I downloaded to my Kindle that was sponsored by the Paris Las Vegas. Before that it was probably the first two in the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. And fortunately, none of those had billowing red satin (velvet?) on the cover.