Oh the shame, the shame. Yes, I read romances. And not the vaguely “okay, well there’s vampires or werewolves, so really its speculative or horror” kind.

I mean bodice rippers. That is, if they still made covers with bodice ripping like they used to.

Luckily, they don’t. Because when I go to pick up my books from the Library’s hold section, girl1’s always looking. She’s like “Mommy, what’s that book?”

It’s bad enough with the zombies and vampires, let me tell you.

Anyway, back to “Lord Perfect” by Loretta Chase. I don’t read just any romance. I tend to look for recommendations because I have very LITTLE patience for bad writing, too much gratuitous nooky, or really really stupid heroines.

I liked Lord Perfect. It’s one of those where the male protagonist POV is done very well, which is always interesting to me.

So like, if regency romances were like potato chips, this wasn’t Pringles in a can, but it wasn’t Boulder Parmesan and Garlic Chips either. I would call it a cheddar kettle chip, maybe.

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