Because of Miss Bridgerton

It must have been a milk tooth; Edward was no Sir Reginald McVie, but as far as George knew, his brother’s smile was fully populated.

It must have been a milk tooth; Edward was no Sir Reginald McVie, but as far as George knew, his brother’s smile was fully populated.

Beauty wasn’t the fierce intelligence that gave her eyes depth, and it wasn’t the wit behind her smile. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t only beautiful, and that was why he loved her

She rode hard and she played hard and by God she kissed the same way, like he was her triumph and she was going to glory in it.

A well-timed phone call is

the mark of an excellent husband.

May you touch the sky this time

George Rokesby might be precisely the sort of stick-in-the-mud one would expect of the heir to an earldom, but his younger brother Andrew

Billie laughed at that, full and throaty, and once again she became so incandescently beautiful that George was half-tempted to throw a blanket over her, just to stop anyone else from wanting her.

22 March 1779 in Connecticut Colony.

Billie tried not to think of George. But she wasn’t successful. Like it or not, he was her who.

Cold compress, elevation, a sibling forced to wait on her hand and foot . . .
Where were her minions when she needed them