I recently got snookered into re-reading the Bridgerton series by Julia Quinn. Which, I don’t have a problem with per se, but reading romance novels does tend to leave me depressed at the end. Giggly during, of course. I could just stop, I suppose. But they’re so delightful. They play a vicious, cutthroat version of Pall Mall (basically it’s croquet for those unversed in the parlance of historic romances). Plus they’re sarcastic and lovingly snarky; my favorite kind of people.
