If he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.
Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book.
I can't imagine a romance novel published today where the hero rapes the heroine and she falls in love with him.
Because if he looked like he was unaffected by her smile, then she would not realize that, in actuality, he was in an utter panic because somewhere deep down inside he’d realized that his life had just changed forever.
When the dead body said, "Good evening," Annabel had to face the grim conclusion that it wasn't as dead as she'd hoped.
It wasn‟t even desire. It was far more than that. It was love. Love. With a capital L and swirly script and hearts and flowers and whatever else the angels— and yes, all those annoying little cupids—wished to use for embellishment.
Caroline, do you value your neck?" "Yes, I'm rather fond of it. Why?" "Because if you don't shut up, I'm going to wring it.
Mother,” Hyacinth said with a great show of solicitude, “you know I love you dearly—” “Why is it,” Violet pondered, “that I have come to expect nothing good when I hear a sentence beginning in that manner?
He was a puzzle. And Hyacinth hated puzzles. Well, no, in truth she loved them. Provided, of course, that she solved them.
It was juvenile, he knew, this need to assign blame, but everyone had a right to childish emotions from time to time, didn't they?
Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache—the kind that one could almost—but never quite—ignore.
In this room,in this minite,she was his everything
If you want to know if a gentleman loves you,” her mother said, “there is only one true way to be sure.” “It’s in his kiss,” her mother whispered. “It’s all there, in his kiss.
He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eys, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge. And his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.
Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.
When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.
Sometimes Hen...I think I would give my life just for one of your smiles.
Your heart is free now." "No," he whispered. "It's yours.
It was the one dream he'd never permitted himself to consider.
Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.
You should be thankful that dark colors suit you. Not everyone wears black well." "Why, Lady Olivia, is that a compliment?" "Not so much as a compliment to you as an insult to everyone else," she assured him. "Thanks heaven for that. I don't think I would know how to conduct myself in a world in which you offered compliments.
He would not give her up,he could not.For the first time in his life he'd found someone who filled all the empty spaces in his heart
Love was the best present of all.
When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.
There were a lot of things in life to be afraid of, but strangeness ought not be among them.
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