No one could hear them over the carriage wheels, yet somehow it felt right to whisper. His eyes dropped to her gaping bodice. One nipple was reddened and still moist. He averted his eyes, swallowing. His erection, silly thing, didn’t know the show was over.
To fight demons, one must assume the guise of a demon.
My darling Lucy.” He panted against her ear, and then his teeth scraped her earlobe. “I love you,” he whispered. “Don’t ever leave me.
He grinned, but a bead of sweat ran down his temple. “Then with your permission.
He smiled down at her. “Truly. I think a man may find happiness-or discontent- no matter if he has a full belly or not.
You are my family. If we never have children, I will be disappointed, but if I never have you, I will be devastated. I love you. I need you. Please trust me enough to be my wife.
A garden always has a point.
Each time it was like a stray bit of glass pressed into the softness of her heart, grinding, grinding, oh so silently until she no longer noticed when she bled.
You have to be very clear with yourself about how you’re going to spend your time. When a child is at school or napping, you need to realize that this is your writing time and you don’t spend it surfing the Internet or reading.
Much of life is a game. If played skillfully, with an intelligent and fascinating opponent, it can become almost a dance. One challenges and moves, the other teases and skips away, only to dart forward later and strike a telling blow.
But like the legless man, I’m unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.
I write both at home and at coffee shops, and I have a terrible work ethic – I have a tendency to write most of my books right before the deadline. I’m trying to work on that, but so far, I’m not getting any more organized.
Dear God. She ached, wanting something that she knew was a sin. Wanting a man who was sin itself.
As for inspiration, I find stark fear of missing the deadline very inspiring.
He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.
I think I do pretty well with child characters. It’s hard to write kids that are realistic, not annoying, and bring something to the story.
Just because I don’t deserve her doesn’t mean I won’t fight to keep her.
But I intend to make you respectable.
Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else.
Your cousin might be a pretty face, but you, my darling, courageous, maddening, seductive, mysterious, wonderful Diana, you are the Duchess of Wakefield. My duchess.