I love to read. I have since I was a little girl. I got it from my mom. She got it from her dad. I plan to give it to my children. It's one of the gifts that truly does keep on giving. When I was a pre-teen/teenager, there were *always* at least one or two books in my purse. Over the years, I have read everything from Steven Covey to James Patterson to Johanna Lindsey. Once I find an author, I devour pretty much anything I can get my hands on by that author. I did it with the James Patterson's Alex Cross series. I did it with Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta series. I did it with almost every trilogy that Nora Roberts ever wrote and her "in Death" series (written as JD Robb). I did it with Johanna Lindsey's Malory family novels.
I hit a dry spell when I didn't take the time to read much. It lasted more than a couple of years (I'm sad to say). But, when I had surgery on June 1st, I knew I'd have a weekend of hanging out on the couch without a lot on the boob-tube. So, I asked Angie for some reading recommendations. Little did I know that she was going to get me hooked all over again. Now, not quite 2 months later, I've devoured 2 new authors - Julia Quinn (specifically the Bridgerton Family series ... God bless her for writing about a family with EIGHT kids!) and Lisa Kleypas. In total, I've polished off 19 books (totaling 6000+ pages) since June 1st.
I mostly read a chapter or two at a time while I'm waiting for something - at a doctor's office, waiting to meet an appointment - or at night before bed. I have to admit that I find myself reading sometimes way too late into the night. The penultimate of that has to have been last night. I picked up "An Offer From A Gentleman" (Benedict Bridgerton's story) at 11pm. I finished it at 4am this morning. I only planned to read the prologue. Then I was only going to read a chapter or two. At 1am I thought that I would put it down by 2:00. At 3:00, I said screw it and just finished it.
I've often wondered if there is something lacking in my life that drives me to read somewhat ridiculous romantic drivel. But, I've come to the conclusion that is simply a great escape. The characters aren't even close to real. They're lives are so far removed from mine that I completely forget whatever might be stressing me out. Being happily married to a wonderful husband means that the heart stopping romance doesn't happen quite as often as it did 13+ years ago. So, it satisfies that girly side of me. And, there's always a happy ending. How can you argue with that?
So, now I'm off to bed to read the last book on my list in the Bridgerton Family series - Anthony's story "The Viscount Who Loved Me" (which Angie loaned me this afternoon ... Thanks, girl!).
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