Because of Miss Bridgerton

And he had fallen in love with Billie Bridgerton.

“I think . . .” She swallowed. “I think you should kiss me again.”

But he’d wanted her. By God, he’d wanted her.

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.