Novel & Cerita Are Bridgerton Books Spicy

Since she had drunk a fair amount of alcohol, even the tips of her brows were tinged with charm. Leon even felt his throat burning as Heather’s seductively charming face swam before his eyes. He gawked at her face; it was within his reach, but he felt that it was as far away from him as the remotest corner on earth. As his outstretched hand froze in midair, he gave a smile of resignation. “Reading? Just give me a break.” He knew without thinking what kind of books Heather would recommend him, and he had no interest in reading them at all.

He smiled to himself, thanked the Infernal Powers, and moved toward her, catching her sea-blue gaze. He stepped in front of her, smiling, and offered to carry the books. She looked into his intense eyes, had a brief flash of warmth, a taste of royal icing, and the instant urge to kiss him. She handed him her books, though, and they walked to her home. She found his scent intriguing, and just knew how he'd taste. Hotter than fire; spicy, like ginger and cinnamon. Sweet and creamy, like royal icing. He walked with her, imagining her touch, her taste, and thinking there was nothing whatsoever wrong with love -- especially when it was mixed with a lot of lust.

Ok, this is just weird. “Yeah, it’s kind of a musky, spicy smell.” She scrunches her nose up. How can she smell it but I can’t? “Don’t you like it?” I raise an eyebrow at her, waiting to see what she says. “Oh, no it’s fine. I just binge watched this drama about palace life. Some concubines were in competition with each other to give the emperor his first heir. So they would wear a musky spicy perfume to cause the other women to miscarry.” My eyes widen and I take a shuddering breath. They would do that to me?

“He was so hot. Tall, broad, and had this energy. Like, ‘I own the room and I probably bite’ kind of energy.” I choked on a laugh. “You’ve been watching too many supernatural shows.” “Don’t judge my taste in men or in fiction. Anyway, his name was Briar. Gave me enough tips to buy a new corset and maybe half a textbook.” I smiled. “Look at you, thriving.” “And he was polite, too! Not a single handsy move.” She paused. “Okay, a little handsy, but in a respectful, I’d-let-him-destroy-me kind of way.”

Willow’s POV I dug my fork into my main dish, but when I put the Jamaican jerk chicken into my mouth, it burned. I grimaced. It was far too spicy. I reached for my water while Beatrice smirked. “Too hot for you?” she asked. I didn’t reply. All the food on the table was made to suit Beatrice’s flavor preferences, not mine. I couldn’t tolerate spicy food. As my husband, Logan was supposed to know that.

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Adrian Cross smiled for the cameras like a man who had just conquered the world. Beside him stood Elena Langford, glowing beneath the flashes of expensive cameras and media attention, every inch the perfect rich man’s bride. The internet was obsessed already. Business blogs called it the union of the year. Investors called it strategic. The public called it romantic. I called it predictable. A humorless smile tugged briefly at my lips before disappearing just as quickly. Adrian had always been ambitious, but the problem with ambitious men was that they eventually confused greed for intelligence. Marrying Leonard Langford’s daughter was not love. It was business. A move. A transaction wrappe

I arched into him, hungry and trembling, heat pooling deep inside me. His name left my lips in a whisper. “Caspian…” He groaned like my voice hurt him, like hearing me say his name undid him. His mouth trailed down my jaw and my neck, teeth grazing skin. I gasped, my legs tightening around him. And then a scent hit my nose. Faint but unmistakable. Sweet. Too sweet. Floral. Familiar. Bridget.

“So… SPICY is it? Just that?” Bree tilted her head, smirking. “Girl, you can’t just stop at SPICY. That’s cute, but we need something… sexy. Something that makes people curious keeps them wanting more.” I raised an eyebrow. “Sexy, huh? Like what?” Bree’s fingers drummed against the table as she thought. Then her eyes lit up. “Spicy… Temptation! That’s it. It’s mysterious, alluring… it screams ‘look at me’ without giving it all away.”

Or, what was that thing you took me to the other day? “Slam poetry….” I said, holding back a laugh. I might have chosen that last date just to mess with her, after she forced me to eat at so many high class restaurants. “Let’s go.” I said, taking her hand in mind and walking her towards the entrance. Behind a 10-foot brick wall lies a beautiful garden. I had chosen it because, on one of our last dates, she had mentioned Bridgerton. She had not read the books since she claimed to have no time or interest in reading. But she did watch a lot of reels about the show before finally trying it.