Julia Quinn

Romancing Mister Bridgerton

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Penelope Featherington has secretly adored her best friend's brother for . . . well, it feels like forever. After half a lifetime of watching Colin Bridgerton from afar, she thinks she knows everything about him, until she stumbles across his deepest secret . . . and fears she doesn't know him at all.
Colin Bridgerton is tired of being thought nothing but an empty-headed charmer, tired of everyone's preoccupation with the notorious gossip columnist Lady Whistledown, who can't seem to publish an edition without mentioning him in the first paragraph. But when Colin returns to London from a trop aboard he discovers notyhing in his life is quite the same—especially Penelope Featherington! The girl haunting his dreams. But when he discovers that Penelope has secrets of her own, this elusive bachelor must decide . . . is she his biggest threat—or his promise of a happy ending?
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    Camilla Dahl Lersøeje podelio/la utisakпре 7 месеци
    👍Vredna čitanja
    🚀Čita se u jednom dahu
    🐼Lagano štivo

    Wooow this was realy lovely 🥰

    Amber Kintzigerje podelio/la utisakпре 3 године

    So nice to read about Penelope...finally!!!

    Mille Holm Nielsenje podelio/la utisakпре 3 месеца
    👍Vredna čitanja
    🎯Vredna čitanja
    🚀Čita se u jednom dahu
    🐼Lagano štivo

    De bliver næsten bedre og bedre. Bevares, de er meget forudsigelige, men det hører genren til. Sød, romantisk og hyggelig


    Nadine Davidsonje citiralaпре 6 година

    On the sixth of April, in the year 1812—precisely two days before her sixteenth birthday—Penelope Featherington fell in love.

    It was, in a word, thrilling. The world shook. Her heart leaped. The moment was breathtaking. And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question—one Colin Bridgerton—felt precisely the same way.

    Oh, not the love part. He certainly didn’t fall in love with her in 1812 (and not in 1813, 1814, 1815, or—oh, blast, not in all the years 1816–1822, either, and certainly not in 1823, when he was out of the country the whole time, anyway). But his earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a shadow of a doubt that his breath was taken away as well. For a good ten seconds.

    Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

    It happened thus:

    She’d been out for a walk in Hyde Park with her mother and two older sisters when she felt a thunderous rumbling under her feet (see above: the bit about the earth shaking). Her mother wasn’t paying much attention to her (her mother rarely did), so Penelope slipped away for a moment to see what was about. The rest of the Featheringtons were in rapt conversation with Viscountess Bridgerton and her daughter Daphne, who had just begun her second season in London, so they were pretending to ignore the rumbling. The Bridgertons were an important family indeed, and conversations with them were not to be ignored.

    As Penelope skirted around the edge of a particularly fattrunked tree, she saw two riders coming her way, galloping along hell-for-leather or whatever expression people liked to use for fools on horseback who care not for their safety and well-being. Penelope felt her heart quicken (it would have been difficult to maintain a sedate pulse as a witness to such excitement, and besides, this allowed her to say that her heart leaped when she fell in love).

    Then, in one of those inexplicable quirks of fate, the wind picked up quite suddenly and lifted her bonnet (which, much to her mother’s chagrin, she had not tied properly since the ribbon chafed under her chin) straight into the air and, splat! right onto the face of one of the riders.
    b9706397594je citiraoпре 3 месеца
    Colin tried to put himself in her shoes.
    olivia tiffanyje citiraoпре 3 месеца
    "Penelope Featherington, I think you should dance with me."

    And then Penelope surprised him by laughing and saying, "That's very sweet of you to ask, but you don't have to dance with me any longer."

    His pride felt oddly pricked. "What the devil do you mean by that?"

    She shrugged. "It's official now. I'm a spinster. There's no longer a reason to dance with me just so that I don't feel left out."

    "That's not why I danced with you," he protested, but he knew that it was exactly the reason. And half the time he'd only remembered to ask because his mother had poked him—hard—in the back and reminded him.

    She gave him a faintly pitying look, which galled him, because he'd never thought to be pitied by Penelope Featherington.

    "If you think," he said, feeling his spine grow stiff, "that I'm going to allow you to wiggle out of a dance with me now, you're quite delusional."

    "You don't have to dance with me just to prove you don't mind doing it," she said.

    "I want to dance with you," he fairly growled.

    "Very well," she said, after what seemed to be a ridiculously long pause. "It would surely be churlish for me to refuse."

    "It was probably churlish of you to doubt my intentions," he said as he took her arm, "but I'm willing to forgive you if you can forgive yourself."

    She stumbled, which made him smile. "I do believe I'll manage," she choked out. "Excellent." He offered her a bland smile.
    "I'd hate to think of you living with the guilt."

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