“Oh, to live in Grace Burrowes’ Regency England. This is a magical world where the aristocracy’s finest specimens of masculinity are, to a man, well over six feet tall, with all their hair and all their teeth. They are careful stewards of their wealth, which is considerable. Despite what the historical record might suggest, they bathe frequently, and instead of smelling of whiskey, the stables, or their own stinky sweat, they rather have about their persons the pleasing scent of bergamot or cedar. In the boudoir they are both talented and considerate; they like to cuddle almost as much as they like to swive. They not infrequently, although not always, have wildly anachronistic names (cf. Gayle — Gayle! — in Burrowes’ The Heir). They often have surprising talents and abilities, which may range from efficiently managing a brothel to performing an external cephalic version during the delivery of breech twins during a blizzard. They are affectionate. They are handsome. They are kind.”
And you can read all about two of them here!
I’ve tried several times with Grace Burrowes and I just can’t. Plus she is far too into precious bodily fluids.
You tags are hysterical.
I’ve never read Burrowes but I must admit that the cover art gives me pause. Each of the men pictured look uncomfortably like Vegas magicians. Bring on the tigers fellas!
ps. Do you ever review books with hot men who are missing a few chompers? Because I would like to see the author who could pull that off.
“Marcus whistled appreciatively. Of course he wasn’t actually trying to whistle, however since the unfortunate loss of his canines, any rapidly expelled breath resulted in a faint whistle. It was, much like his bronzed and hairless chest, entrancing. Edith slowly ran her hands down his chiseled jaw and was rewarded by another whistle of appreciation.”