Thursday, 5 May 2016

Because Of Miss Bridgerton by Julia Quinn ( The Rokesbies, #1)






I still remember what I felt when I read the Bridgertons for the very first time: It was pure fun.
I loved them. From Daphne to Gregory's stories, I could inhale them! I still "remember" when Gregory inadvertently pushes Simon into the river. ;)
The wit, the swoon worth romance, the writing, all of it was gold... that is why, it pains me to say this now, but it feels as if the author has lost that magical touch :/
Sure, I had some fun reading the beginning of this story: Billie is supposed to be an hellion and what's his name... George is all conservative and formal... you know, true to the time in which he was living?
As for Billie she comes out as someone somewhat cold ( doesn't like cats -_- never a good sign), someone who is indifferent to her younger sister to the point of having George admonish her.
I liked George _despite having forgotten his name *cough*_, his bafflement over his "sudden" interest in Billie was fun to read, but in the end this story's plot was practically non existent.
Do you want me to prove that to you?
This is what happens:

Stubborn girl grows up with responsible boy ( and his two brothers)
One day out of the blue they both find each other interesting.
They kiss.
___
___
Love is in the air.
"I can't marry her", says he.
"I will have to marry her, of course.", says the above mentioned.
There's a ball so that the girl can wear a pretty dress.
Said girl is considered the belle of the ball.
Guy can't dance with the girl due to very weak plot circumstances-_-
Hearts are broken.
There's make up sex.
Promises of marriage are made.
George is tested in the above mentioned weak plot circumstances (I said this already, haven't I?)
Girl acts all brash and idiotic.
George questions his intelligence... I question your intelligence as well, George.
Vows of forever love are renewed.
The End.

Ugh.
It has the Bridgerton trademark, so of course I was expecting much more. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Back To Top