For some reason* I’ve been reading a bunch of old gothic-romance paperbacks lately. It’s giving me the strangest second-hand nostalgia. I don’t remember reading these books when they were newer, but I remember *seeing* people reading them, and it’s all tied up in my mind with shopping from old Sears catalogues and grown-up women wearing long nightgowns and skirts with boots. And people smoking, and livingrooms having huge heavy glass ashtrays.
Anyway. The most recent haul:
*Okay, the reason is that I’ve been reading a whole lot of former-twific novels, and I needed space free from whips, chains, billionaires, childhood abuse, and endless conversations about NOTHING.