My Love for Emphatic Statements

I love Wendy the Super Librarian's review of What a Scoundrel Wants, in that she makes a few bold statements that warm my toes.
If you're one of those historical romance readers who whine bemoan the lack of originality in the sub genre these days? Yeah, run out and buy this book.
This really is a fascinating debut novel. Granted, I haven't read every historical currently on sale, but I'm fairly confident in saying that nothing you'll find on the shelves at your local Borders is anything like What A Scoundrel Wants. It's gritty, romantic, charming, with a bad boy hero that will make any romance reader worth her salt swoon.
In other news, we finally got the dishwasher fixed. And the washing machine. Insert the sound of angels on high singing the praises of this miracle. Just in time for us to leave, but now we have clean undies and clean dishes.

Also, Ilsa is now officially allergic to something in store-bought bakery goods. We thought before that it was candy sprinkles, but although the cupcakes we bought for her birthday celebration on Sunday had no sprinkles, she wound up sick anyway. She's home from school, poor skinny girl. Because this is the third known incident of bakery goods/sprinkles = 24 hrs of heaving, I'll be discussing allergy testing with her doctor over her 5-yr check-up when we return.

We'll be out later to complete the last 1,274 things I need to do before leaving tomorrow. If I never visit the post office again, it'll be too soon. No one should have a book release at Christmas. It's just mean. I'll be utterly worn out by the time we land. Soon....

Hang your soul here on the snow.
Get on that board, and c'mon lets go.
"Touch Me, I'm Sick" by Mudhoney

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