I haven’t always been a bourbon drinker. Even of late as I’ve begun to delve into the wide world of whiskey, my tastes tend to lean toward scotch (perhaps I just have expensive taste?). There’s a certain undeniable romanticism to bourbon, though. The vanilla notes. The charred oak barrels. The strong, southern, American history. The derby and the juleps and the hats. The men that are mad, their old fashioneds, and debonair attitudes.
Is it any surprise, then, that one of the bestselling romance authors would tackle the world of bourbon? The jacket copy of this intriguing cover promises:
“Upstairs, a dynasty that by all appearances plays by the rules of good fortune and good taste. Downstairs, the staff who work tirelessly to maintain the impeccable Bradford facade. And never the twain shall meet.”
Bourbon meets Downton Abbey meets Romeo and Juliet? Count me in.
Make yourself a cocktail, curl up in your favorite weathered, leather chair, and let’s crack the spine on this one.