I love you with everything I am, everything I’ve been, and everything I hope to be. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we’ll have and for the years we’ll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles and even more, for every one of your smiles.
Men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will soon follow. -Lady Whistledown.
To say that men can be bullheaded would be insulting to the bull.
I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.
I can’t imagine a romance novel published today where the hero rapes the heroine and she falls in love with him.
Suddenly it was too hard to be in his presence, too painful to know that he would belong to someone else.
Before she knew what she was about, she was jumping about like a crazy woman, yelling, “Yes! Yes! I win!” “You don’t win,” Anthony snapped. “Oh, it feels like I’ve won,” she reveled.
She’d met Colin on a Monday. She’d kissed him on a Friday. Twelve years later. She sighed. It seemed fairly pathetic.
You don’t always have to kiss a lot of frogs to recognize a prince when you find one -Henrietta Barett.
And if you say that’s because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I’m disowning all three of you.
She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...
No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.
Why? It’s because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I love you, anyway.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of an heir.
I had to do something,” she said. “I couldn’t just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.
Never,” he spat out, “kick a man who is pointing a gun at you.
He rolled his eyes. Why was he surprised about anything having to do with her? Of course she’d be able to lift a large stone. She was Henry. She could probably lift him.
He didn’t know what he felt. For the first time in his life, his thoughts were a jumble, tossing and turning and writing over each other like an endlessly edited story.
Hush up, minx. You’re a funny one, but you’re certainly more likable than unlikable.
Five years with the dowager – Good God, she ought to be given a title in her own right as a penance for such as that. No one had done more for England.