I've been reading this new series.
A series that I thought a blogging friend had suggested.
In reality, she suggested this one, and I read this one instead.
In my defense, the title is just one word different and I'm half crazy anyway, so it's basically the same book, right?
I read all five books in the series in less than a week and I'm not going to lie, I loved them in much the same way a 13-year-old loves Twilight.
They're all lovey and sappy, and they perfectly match my current mood.
I mean, except the second book, because the lady in that was just a little whiny for my taste, thank-you-very-much.
But the one thing that killed me, just absolutely killed me was all the courting that went on.
Oh, don't get me wrong, I love the non-trashy love stories.
And it's even kind of charming that during that time period (the Civil War), courting and love was much, much different than it is now (obviously).
And I like it that the touch of a hand is so exciting.
But what I didn't get was all of this breathing on the neck that happened.
I swear, in every, single book, there was some mention of the main man breathing on the main woman's neck and OH-EM-GEE, it was the ultimate.
Because to me, there's nothing as gross as being breathed on.
The sauciness of the man makes no difference.
DO. NOT. BREATHE. ON. ME.
And that's all I have to say about that.
In other news, I am all for pregnancy confinement.
I am an emotional wreck.
I cried twice at church.
I even cried this afternoon while watching Emma. Who cries at Gwenyth Paltrow?