c2p-cmd/Good-Quotes-Authors huggingface dataset:
To know, finally, what love is and not be allowed fulfilment ...
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
All of them. Fated to love in vain.
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
It doesna matter the direction necessity forces ye to take in life, it matters which way ye go when ye have a choice.
— Madeline  Martin, Deception of a Highlander
No more sounds emerged as he walked through the forest, save the whisper of the leaves above. Though nothing further appeared out of the ordinary, he knew one thing for certain.	He was not alone.
— Madeline  Martin, Deception of a Highlander
Did I catch ye looking at me?" He knelt beside her and covered her with the plaid...	"I couldn't help myself," she mumbled.	He gave a low chuckle and slid in beside her. His naked arm pulled her close so her head rested on his solid chest.	"Good answer." The smile was evident in his silky voice.
— Madeline  Martin, Deception of a Highlander
What are you cooking this night, wife?” One of the crepes picked that moment to dislodge itself from the ceiling. It landed at her feet with a plop as if on cue. “Crepes.” She kept a straight face and tried to look like this was the normal way to make crepes.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
Time. She had to go home. As soon as the lunar eclipse occurred in three weeks. Because if she stayed here, she would die. Either from the bullet in her back, or from the pain that was slowly sinking talons into her.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
It seems you want me at your mercy, Princess. Question is, why?No, she whispered, question is do I?
— Meg Hennessy, A Pirate's Revenge
Only two things kept her from loathing him.The expression on his face when he'd said, "France." And the expression on his face when he'd said, "home.
— Julie Anne Long, It Started With a Scandal
A fierce possessiveness gripped him, a need to brand her, to make her his, now and forever. And he knew it was madness.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
She didn’t have a hat or a veil or anything in her hands. No one had offered so much as a single dried-out flower; she had nothing to hold onto to steady her shaking fingers. Her head pounded as hard and as painfully as her rapid heartbeat. She stood there, unable to move, staring at the man who waited at the end of the aisle. This unpredictable knight who hours ago had touched her, kissed her, caressed her in a way that still made her tremble, then sworn he would never do so again. This dark lord who despised her. This man she was about to marry.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
Once the spark of true love has been ignited, it cannot be quenched. It is there forever.
— Anne Rouen, Angel of Song
It is true, Monsieur, that when you die, the ones who love you come for you ... I have seen it.
— Anne Rouen, Angel of Song
It proved what he had always instinctively known.Love is Forever.
— Anne Rouen, Angel of Song
Now, at last, she understood her great attraction to him. Here was the companion of her spirit. Here, indeed, was love.
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
Why are we fated to love those we cannot have ...?
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
His mouth captured hers with a strong, soft heat and Celine discovered something far sexier than this man’s voice or his body. His kiss. She never had the chance to think of a protest. To think at all. She had been kissed before, but never like this. It was neither awkward and teasing nor forceful and overpowering, but long, slow, confident, and devastating. It was as if he were binding them together, deftly drawing her soul into his.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
She was destroyed many years ago, La Belle, on the cobblestones of the alley beside the opera house ...
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
Like a brilliant shooting star, she had almost reached her zenith when her light was extinguished.
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
One day you will meet someone who will show you what you are made of. I only hope it is someone not forbidden to you ...
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
I could not give her my heart, because it already belonged to another; for I have only loved once.
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
And what she does not know, what nobody else knows but you, is that I have a special place where I go to be with her; my first, my only love.
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
Celine glanced up as she passed under an arch, at another of the chateau’s decorations, her personal favorite: the entwined letters G and R, carved over every doorway. Family legend had it that one of the original owners of the chateau, a knight by the name of Sir Gaston de Varennes, was responsible for that bit of artwork. Sir Gaston, it seemed, had been quite a ladies’ man—until he had met and married his wife, whom he loved so much, he had had her initial engraved with his in every castle he owned.
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His
What takes more courage. To live ... or to die?
— Anne Rouen, Master of Illusion
She did not realise that there could be a joy - a spiritual ecstasy- in the touch of a certain man, or that she would long for his touch with all her being
— Anne Rouen, Angel of Song
Life isn't worth living without love. Have faith in love! Take a chance, and you might be surprised at how well things will turn out. If you do, you'll be filled with joy. I promise.
— Caroline Fyffe, Under a Falling Star
Eva’s chin ticked up. “Are you threatening me, m’lord?”Scoffing, he gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Heaven forbid someone threaten William Wallace’s woman.”Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him for a moment. Even if he’d seen her take the pictures, he wouldn’t have a clue what she was up to. And she’d turned the flash off. He had absolutely no grounds on which to make any accusations. With a dismissive nod she turned her attention back to Christina.“But—” Comyn stepped closer, making the hackles on the back of Eva’s neck stand on end. “One day that big fella will fall out of favor, and then a pretty lassie such as yourself willna be so smug.”“I beg your pardon, Lord Comyn?” Lady Murray threw her shoulders back. “You over inflate your station. Regardless of your noble birth, Miss Eva is the daughter of a knight, and I daresay she ought not be spoken to like a mere commoner.”“Not to worry.” Eva flashed a wry grin. “I am very comfortable being identified as among the loyal servants of Scotland. Unlike some high-ranking gentry present whose questionable actions have proved their very hypocrisy, and their willingness to change allegiances on a whim only to protect their personal wealth.
— Amy Jarecki, In the Kingdom's Name
I suppose,” continued Nate, “it’s not Bertie’s fault that he lacks the physical stature to carry a delicate young woman such as yourself a good distance. I believe he did not care to see you within the folds of my arms which were reluctant to release you, for I thought I would never see you again...
— Margie Bayer, Goodnight Eleanor
He wished for access to all the world's languages at once, for then he would have a better word for how he felt and what she was.
— Julie Anne Long
Her smile hollowed out his chest. She’d changed since last he saw her. She was brighter. More vibrant. Happiness suited her.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
You want me at your mercy, Princess. Question is, why?”“No,” she whispered. “Question is, do I?
— Meg Hennessy
Susanna, I'm not exactly sure how to begin. Where to start. I know I was in the wrong by not telling you sooner, but I was in an incredibly tight spot."	She crooked her brow.	"I'm still in an incredibly tight spot?"	She nodded.
— Caroline Fyffe, Under a Falling Star
I do have a girl that sets the moon and stars.
— Caroline Fyffe, Under a Falling Star
Look through that clump of trees. There's a hawk sitting on the weathervane at the Red Rooster Inn. I've heard that if someone you love very much passes away, they can come back in the form of a hawk, to look after you and give you comfort.
— Caroline Fyffe, Under a Falling Star
Why does sin feel so good if it is a terrible thing?
— Amy Jarecki, A Highland Knight to Remember
He nodded. A curt movement of his head, and she was, for no reason at all, convinced that the man before her was not in dislike of her but simply a man who did not have words come easily to him because he’d grown up alone. She thought of him as a boy. Lonely here, with no father and no mother to hold him, only the servants for company, and Killhope as an unceasing reminder of the centuries of duty and responsibility that were his. Her heart twisted up.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She looked over her shoulder at him, as ever, not in the least affected by him or his consequence. Not one whit. She was a lady, yes, but she would never believe herself the sort of woman who might marry a duke. “You aren’t the sentimental sort, are you?” “I’m told not.” She considered him, and he felt the curiosity behind her scrutiny of him. He had no idea what to make of that and so pushed off the wall he’d leaned against and headed for the door. She followed.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
There is a view,” he said. “You will admire it.” A command. All wrong. He meant for her to hear that he wanted her to see the view, but no. By habit, he demanded that she accompany him. “I should like for you to see it. Please.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She cocked her head. The ribbon tied beneath her chin glinted dully in the light. “Have I said something wrong?”“No."“I have.” She stepped closer. “You are the most inscrutable man I have ever met.” He laughed. No mirth at all. “I’m quite serious.” She studied him. “No.” Her quiet voice lanced through him. “Don’t look away. Not when I am about to understand you.” “Are you certain you wish to?” He held her gaze, and the silence of his hunting box became unendurable. He fixed in his head an image of her in his bed. Nude. And of him, there to touch, and taste, experiencing that moment when his prick slid into her body. Her. Not any woman, but her. Specifically. The woman who made him see beauty where he’d once seen only duty.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she’d made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
I-I've wanted you ever since..." She untied the sash around her waist and let the dressing gown drop to the floor.	God save him, she wore not a stitch of clothing. Every shred of self-control fled. His mind consumed with the tantalizing woman before him. Somehow she was even more beautiful now that he'd remembered. The candlelight flickered amber across her skin. Chestnut tresses slid over her shoulder, framing two perfectly formed breasts, tipped by rose.	Sean licked his lips, those delectable rosebuds would be his second stop. In two strides, he wrapped her in his arms and crushed his body against hers. "For all that is holy, you have claimed my soul, my flesh and my mind.
— Amy Jarecki, A Highland Knight to Remember
She had a good, strong voice. She smiled with her voice, too. This, he thought, was the magic that had drawn him to her.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
Her gaze collided with the duke’s. His eyes were a clear, pale green. Why was he staring so intently when there was hardly another woman less interesting than she?
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
You are walking to Hope Springs?” “Yes, Your Grace.” “In this weather?” She glanced around and gave him a smile. “I haven’t any other weather to walk in.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
He’d seen that absent look from her dozens of times in London. She thought herself invisible, and was not. Not to him. This was the second time he’d mentioned marriage to her. The second time she heard nothing but his words.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
If he spoke, there was no possible outcome but another disastrous exchange of words at cross-purposes. The chances of him finding both the right words and the right inflection were, in his experience with her thus far, vanishingly small. He would either growl at her, or tell her what was in his heart.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
Dread that she would meet some other man and see in him all the joy of life that he lacked. “I will see you home.” The words came out all wrong, with gruff emphasis on the word will. One look at her, and he lost all chance at serenity. Because he had never in his life cared whether anyone liked him. He’d never thought about it. Until her.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man’s lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she’d not understand his meaning. She’d think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
He fell quiet, but she understood this was his way. He was not a talkative man. Once, she’d imagined him sitting alone in his house, a monster ready to devour anyone who came near. What she imagined now was a man who had both his rank and his natural reticence working against him. She smiled at him. If he continued in his gruff ways the rest of his life, she would defend him to anyone. Anyone.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She laughed, and the duke might actually have smiled, though one could never be certain.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
He remounted. “I will ride with you.” With some effort, he gentled his voice. “If that would be agreeable to you.” “How kind of you. Thank you.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart.
— Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
She wanted to savor him slowly like a lemon cream pie on a lazy summer day. One bite at a time.
— Sandra Jones, His Most Wanted
Jacques appeared on his hands and knees, peering around the corner of the cabin. His dark eyes lit with pleasure when he saw her. The baby flashed Antonia his wide grin and scooted toward her. Only in the last two days had he gone from pushing himself across the floor to a hands-and-knees crawl.Henri trailed so close behind Jacques that he had to walk wide-legged so he didn’t step on his brother.The baby reached her, placed his hands on her legs, and pressed himself up, grabbing at the front of her tunic. “Maa.”Antonia hugged Jacques. He’d soiled his rabbit skin diaper and smelled, but she held him close, needing to feel the baby in her arms. He wiggled in protest. She dropped a kiss on his forehead and reached up to her shoulder to unlace the leather ties of her tunic, pulling the flap down to free her breast. He began to suckle greedily.Henri dropped to her other side and leaned against her. Antonia put her arm around him. Just holding her sons brought her comfort but also increased her despair. What do I be doin’ now? Should I be takin’ the boys and leave? Head for Sweetwater Springs?Antonia shook her head. No! I won’t be leavin’ Jean-Claude. Cain’t leave my home.But without her husband to provide for them, she didn’t know how long she’d be able to manage on her own.Somehow, I’ll be findin’ a way, Antonia vowed.
— Debra Holland, Healing Montana Sky
A man who is born to be hanged can never be drowned.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
Every morning," he said softly, his breath caressing her cheek. "You were my only thought." He tilted closer. "Every night, you were my only thought." His lips brushed her cheekbone. "Every moment of every day, you were my only thought.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
I may be dead inside, but I'm more than alive enough for you." He gripped her chin and covered her mouth with his.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
He tasted like Edmund, smelled like Edmund, felt like second chances. He kissed her as if she were as indispensable as air. As though his every heartbeat belonged as much to her as it did to him.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
She turned to him with wide, shocked eyes. "Why did he..."	His lips twitched. No coarse language in front of the infants limited the ability to discuss the fountain of baby piss that had just arced halfway across the room.	"Twasn't you, darling. It's one of their favorite bath-time games.	"Something about the cool air on their naked...berries," he substituted at the last second....	"Do I have piddle in my hair?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling with laughter above her flushed cheeks.	"Not much," he assured her with a straight face. "You look almost becoming."...	"Decades from now, when our children ask how I fell in love with their mother, I'll say 'twas her sweet, gentle compliments during bath-time, and her fleetness of foot whilst dodging a flow of ---
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
I've come to seduce you."	His pupils dilated as his gaze heated.	She smiled. He hadn't been surprised at her presence, but he'd been very surprised at the reason.	He held up a palm. "By all means.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
Can't sleep?" he murmured, the corners of his eyes crinkling.	She blushed, but held his gaze. "Don't wish to sleep."	"Mmm. I can help with that."...	"Do you have anything particular in mind?"	"Everything.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
The point is, people have been having babies for thousands of years. There will be frightening moments and exhausting moments, but more than anything---"	"--- there will just be love.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
Be thankful all she did was raise her voice," Mr. Blackpool told Sarah conspiratorially. "During the ride to London, I had to talk her out of scaling up the townhouse walls, should the door go unanswered."	She had to hide her smile at the image of flamboyant Mrs. Blackpool climbing row houses like a circus monkey. "We are fortunate indeed that such measures did not prove necessary.
— Erica Ridley, The Brigadier's Runaway Bride
She would do whatever she had to, even make this man’s life a living hell if it were required, and judging by the arrogance of Thomas Glanville, that possibility was quite likely.
— Tamara Hughes, His Pirate Seductress
Those green eyes mocked her, and the ass leaned into her blade as if daring her to slice him
— Tamara Hughes, His Pirate Seductress
You could cut...all that
— Mel Bossa, Linhart's Beautiful Beast
You don’t have to prove something to feel it, to know it exists.
— Ally Broadfield, Say You'll Love Me
Catherine bristled at the amusement in his voice. He could laugh all he wanted when he stood tied to a wall utterly naked. A little humiliation might do him good.
— Tamara Hughes, His Pirate Seductress
Do you miss wearing your kilt?" she asked.	"In London, it caused more bother than it was worth. Ladies either found it indecent or intriguing. A fair few found it to be both. I was never quite sure whether it was indecently intriguing or intriguingly indecent!
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
I kissed you," Finlay said roughly. "for the very simple reason that you are irresistible."	"I think that is what is known as serendipity," Isabella replied, "for it's the very same reason I kissed you back."	"Serendipity," Finlay said, sliding his arm around her waist. "I've always wondered what it tasted like."	"Strawberries, and lavender, and vintage wine, I believe is how you described it."	"No," he said decidedly. "It tastes of nothing other than essence of you. The most intoxicating and delicious taste imaginable.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
Vintage kisses," Finlay said. "If only they could be bottled, you would have an elixir beyond price.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
Those were the kind of kisses to keep a man awake at night, wanting more. Now, shall we drink this excellent wine and get on with the rest of the tour?
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
The Jock Upstart, is what Wellington calls - called me. A man who does not know his allotted place in the scheme of things.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
I must confess, your gown does not do justice as your trousers did to your delightful derriere."	Colour flamed in her face. She ought to be outraged, but Isabella was briefly, shockingly inclined to laugh. "A gentleman does not remark on a lady's derriere."	"I seem to recall telling you when last we met that I am not a gentleman, senorita. And now I come to think of it, I recall also that you took umbrage at being called a lady.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
It was because he wanted to kiss her so much that he stopped himself, bent over her hand, clicking his heels together, then let her go. "Adios, Isabella. Good luck. Please be careful. Stay safe."	"Goodbye, Finlay. May God protect you and keep you from harm.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
I don’t fear you. It’s my feelings for you that I fear.
— Ally Broadfield, Say You'll Love Me
He stared at her, his dark eyes unfathomable. "You could meet a better, worthier man."She laughed, a strained, harsh sound. "I've already met one--he's marrying my sister!"The words blazed forth, hanging in the air as though etched in fire, impossible to recall or deny. They stared at each other, scarcely breathing--then, in an instant, Trevenan closed the distance between them in one stride and pulled her to him, arms banding around her like iron.Their mouths met in a fierce mutual claiming, and the world went white around them--white as lightning, white as the heart of a flame. Closing her eyes, Aurelia let herself fall, deep into a void where all that existed was his touch, his taste, and the hot, urgent press of his lips against hers. This, she thought hazily. Yes, this. And knew by his response, the guttural moan in his throat, that it was the same for him. Love, that is first and last of all things made..."Damn you, James! Why couldn't you wait for me?
— Pamela Sherwood, Waltz with a Stranger
Why should I mind?” She drummed her fingertips against his knee. “Because you got asked to play baseball, while I got a lecture on circumspection, Jezebels, and leading men into sin?” “Did you really?” He managed to sound annoyed, fascinated, and amused all at once.“It’s not funny.” “Of course it’s not.” He was quick to try and placate her. “But we can do something about those lectures real quick. All you have to do is marry me.”Coyote Bluff had too many secrets that weren’t hers to share. She couldn’t put him in that position. He was a federal marshal. And she’d seen what all the lies her father told had done to her mother. She’d died hating him.The last remnants of her earlier contentment vanished. “I like my independence.” “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to the lectures, Sheriff Jezebel,” he replied.
— Paula Altenburg, Pale Moon Walking
What the hell do you think you are doing, creeping about in the night in woman's clothing? I could just as easily have killed you?"	The sheer audacity of her remark rendered him speechless for a moment, and then Finlay laughed. "This, senorita, is a kilt, not a skirt, and you did not for a moment come close to killing me, though I don't doubt that you'd have tried if I'd given you half a chance.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Rebel Lover
I steal from the rich to give to myself.
— Robert Thier, The Robber Knight
I believe yours is the only wisdom, Demelza.
— Winston Graham, Jeremy Poldark
Having our voices heard in the wilderness is akin to sharing our souls. Angelina J. Windsor
— Angelina J. Windsor, Seventh Son
My butler informs me you had a book on your person when you came to call.” She did not look up. “His vision is excellent, my lord.” “Was it your journal?” he pressed. He wondered if she kept a diary as well . . . and what she might write about him. He hoped something scandalous. He’d love to make it come true.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
I've seen enough cowboys in my life to know I don't want one for a husband."...Victoria"Every good man I know is a cowboy."...ColtPromises Kept
— Scarlett Dunn, Promises Kept
Romance means believing you are worthy of a happy ending.
— Sarah Wendell, Everything I Know About Love I Learned from Romance Novels
Whites and pastels — colors suitable for a girl’s come-out, though not always suited to the girls coming out — eddied erratically around gowns in every brilliant hue ladies married, widowed or on the shelf could imagine, and a few they ought not have.
— Colleen Ladd, The Duke's Despair
What’s bosoms?” Cade asked.“You’ll find out when you get older,” Jake said."A lot older," Colt said.
— Scarlett Dunn, Last Promise
Until we find Enio, I'm closer to you than your own shadow.
— Meg Hennessy, A Pirate's Command
Do you plan on marrying Charles?”She shook her head.“Good. I wouldn’t want to shoot him, but I would."... Finding Promise
— Scarlett Dunn
If you insist on standing in such a state of undress, it is your shadow that will have to get out of my way.
— Meg Hennessy, A Pirate's Command
Her feet shifted underneath her. “I’m not sure what troublesyou.”The wolf prowled, though he sat in a great chair. His uneasinessmade her skin tight and her heart race. Hakan was a handsomeman, very appealing to all of the fairer sex tonight with his blackjerkin stretched across broad shoulders. He had shaved for theGlima festival, and his blonde hair, lighter from summer, loosenedfrom the leather tie.“Many thoughts trouble me tonight, but Astrid’s not one ofthem.” In the dim light of the longhouse, his white teeth gleamedagainst his tanned face.“Does your head ail you?” She clasped her hands together,comfortable with the role of nurturing thrall.“Nay, but ‘twould please me if you sat close to me and playedyour harp.”“Music would be pleasant.” Skittish and studying him underthe veil of her lashes, Helena retrieved her harp.She sat cross-legged on a pelt near his chair. ‘Twas easy tostrum a soothing song and lose herself in the delicate notes herfingers plucked. But when the last note faded, the restless wolfstirred on his throne, unpacified.“Why did you play that game with Astrid? Letting her thinkmore goes on between us?”Ice-blue eyes pinned her, yet, ‘twas his voice, dangerous andsoft, that did things to her.“I…I don’t know.” Her own voice faltered as warmth flushedher skin.Glowing embers molded his face with dim light. Hakanleaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. His sinewy handplucked the harp from her, placing it on the ground.“Why?” Hakan’s fingertips tilted her chin.
— Gina Conkle, Norse Jewel
There is always a danger that those who are less obviously and traditionally important, prominent, or powerful will be left out of the history of human experience.
— Chloe Schama, Wild Romance: A Victorian Story of a Marriage, a Trial, and a Self-Made Woman
He stopped, gazing at the girl who stood before it. The man guessed the child to be ten years old. She had dark brown hair to her neck with ends that showed curls, ivory skin and large eyes of sapphire blue. Thin and barefooted, with soot on her face she wore an old, tattered white dress. As the child turned to look at him, the man thought she must be an orphan beggar and he was unable to tear his face away from her eyes. Those bright blue eyes filled with an incomprehensible sadness. What pain did she carry?
— Suilyaniz Cintron, Windswept
Love has a heavy load of possibilities. You can't have it without some measure of pain. They go together with an inseparable bond in this world. But it's worth it. I promise you, the treasure is worth the pain.
— Miranda Shisler, Where We Belong
Lord Sheffield tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and cupped her cheek in one hand. “Do you see a kissing ball anywhere?” “N-no.” She darted a quick glance about the room. It was decorated as a Venetian masquerade, not as a Christmastide celebration. There was no holly to be found. “Why do you ask?” “Because I don’t want you to think I have any reason for doing this other than because I wish to.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
A footman approached bearing a tray of sparkling wine. Lord Sheffield motioned the footman away before he could offer them a glass of champagne. “Forgive me,” he murmured in Amelia’s ear. “I cannot wait another moment to have you in my arms.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “If you had but asked, I would’ve informed you that I do not attend masquerades.” “That is precisely why I didn’t ask.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
Have you considered—between now and any future leg-shackling, that is—the possibility of spending some time not running things?” “Oh, I do,” she said earnestly. “Twice daily! I try very hard not to run things in my sleep, nor whilst cleaning my teeth. Far too difficult to bark orders with tooth powder in one’s mouth.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
As a lady of clocklike precision yourself, you may appreciate my schedule. I have kept strictly to it every day for the past decade. From eight in the morning to eight in the evening, I devote myself to my duties. Then from eight in the evening to eight in the morning, I . . . do . . . not.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
He had a hint of a Southern drawl, as if he’d worked hard to hide it, but couldn’t quite rid himself of the last of it. It was rough and gravelly, and had the seductive warmth of sinking into strong arms in front of a cozy fire. To my surprise, a spark of that long-dead heat stirred in my belly. This wasn’t the sort of response a woman should have to finding a strange man in her barn.
— Margaret Madigan, Gambling on the Outlaw
I won’t pretend that I deserve you. I am faithless. I have done unforgivable things. And I am broken.” He gestured to his face and body with trembling hands. “I know you see past these things when you look at me . . . but I hope I can be enough for you.”“What? Enough for me? Gabriel, you are everything.
— Rachel L. Demeter, Finding Gabriel
Now, tomorrow, and always.
— Rachel L. Demeter, Finding Gabriel
She was dangerous. I’d heard the rumors, that she had a history as a wild woman, that she’d been married to a gambler, maybe even been one herself, that her past was scandalous at best. But who was I to judge? My past was littered with scandal.
— Margaret Madigan, Gambling on the Outlaw
The only thing that can hurt me now is the thought of never knowing this feeling again. To never be able to touch you this way again...
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
Whether David believed in her affliction or not didn’t change the fact that it existed, and some day it would catch up with her.
— Tamara Hughes, Beauty's Curse
How were we so lucky? Two people lost in a world only to find solace and companionship in someone just as fractured as they are. I think destiny has played a hand in our union.
— K.  Webster, Becoming Countess Dumont
Let this moment whisper through eternity. Let it fill my every dream and visit me each night.
— Rachel L. Demeter, Finding Gabriel
He leaned back. “What, may I ask, is the nature of our business?” She inclined her head. “Just so. It came to my attention earlier today that you had canceled the seventy-fifth annual Christmas Eve ball. I would have called upon you immediately, but I’m afraid a prior engagement tied my hands until this very moment.” He tried to make sense of her words. She was apologizing for not descending upon him more promptly for a meeting he’d never in his wildest dreams anticipated?
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
I must remember to be troublesome now and again, else you are going to be impossible to live with. And by what magic did you find the gown and the horse?""Scottish fairy magic." His grin widened."Do you mean that fairies are real in Scotland?
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
In America, I appear more simple that I am, because I was completely out of my element. It was my misfortune, not my fault, that I was born in a country which was not congenial to my desires. -1815, in a letter to her father William Patterson
— Elizabeth Patterson Bonaparte
He watched her emerald eyes darken with need until they were the color of the Highland hills warmed by the summer sun.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
At first, I did not tell you any of this because...you were not supposed to mean anything to me. And later..." His voice became rough with emotion. "Later, I did not tell you because you mean so much to me.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
He cleared his throat. "I wish I could take back what I said." He looked away. "I behaved like a thoin aiseal.""What does that mean?""A donkey's arse."She glanced down at the furs, found herself fighting a smile. "And how do you pronounce that? I somehow suspect I may have need of that phrase again.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
You are a soldier. A fighter. And now you must fight. Not for the emperor, not for France . . . but for yourself.
— Rachel L. Demeter, Finding Gabriel
He drew her into his arms, gathering her close, and dusted kisses over her cheek, her hair. Wrapped in his embrace, Laurien closed her eyes, murmuring a sigh of exquisite satisfaction. A delightful drowsiness overtook her and she gave in to it, snuggled securely against Darach's chest, lying on a stolen wolf pelt, in the hold on a ship of thieves.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
She clenched her fists. "I believe, milord, that I have endured my full limit of male tyranny." "I am afraid, milady, that you will have to become accustomed to it. It is the way of things, here in the world beyond your cloister." He turned her forward and nudged her to continue down the stairs. "This world would fall into chaos if women were allowed to do whatever they wished.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
I do consider it my responsibility to know everything there is to know about anything that could be considered my domain. I believe I am quite adept at the management of people and events.” His green eyes twinkled. “You’ve certainly managed me since the day I was born.” “I was but three years old when you were born,” she protested. “I didn’t start managing you for at least another year.
— Erica Ridley, The Viscount's Christmas Temptation
Rolling onto his side, he drew her close. "Sleep, milady. I will keep you warm tonight, and safe." He pulled the blanket over her, wrapping one arm around her waist as he settled beside her on the furs. "And for one night, at least, neither of us will be alone.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
Let me give you one piece of advice. Do not get between a woman and her cause.
— Jenny Holiday, The Likelihood of Lucy
It was likely her due, then, that a familiar voice halted her progress just as she started to ascend the staircase. “You’ve certainly turned the afternoon on its head.” Lucas regarded her with a wry smile from the first landing, his thick brown hair blending into an exceptionally large portrait of Gravethorne’s favorite hounds. “How does it feel to be the most notorious debutante in London?”Sparring with Lucas Bellamy held little appeal to her at the moment, but Amy was incapable of letting a jab go unanswered. She gripped the decorative knob on the newel post and lifted her chin. “Slightly inconvenienced yet decidedly more powerful, I think.
— Rachel Pierson, Ruined By Nature
She lifted her chin and returned his unyielding gaze. "Do what you will."His blue eyes darkened to the color of a moonlit sky. "You should be careful, milady, about issuing such an invitation.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every part of her body had at once become brilliantly alive.His beard was a startling, silky roughness against her skin. His other hand came to rest at her waist, drawing her in tight, and her body seemed to meld to his hard, lean lines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her thoughts scattered. A sound escaped her, soft and deep, unlike any sound she had ever made in her life.Then his tongue touched her lower lip and she gave a startled little squeak.Her suddenly lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes midnight blue, his voice husky. "You have never even been kissed before, leannan. You are as innocent as the day you first set foot in the convent.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
Warning: Contains a Norman warrior with a thirst for justice, a Welsh rebel princess with second sight and a steady bow hand, magical prophecies, and a plot of royal proportions.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
Lauren closed her eyes, remembering how desperate she had been this morn in Chartres, how she had prayed for divine intervention to stop her wedding.She had never expected that intervention to be riding a black horse and wielding a sword.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
As I have said, milady, I mean to keep you safe, not harm you. And it is not my habit to force myself on unwilling maidens.""Aye, pilgrim?" she asked dubiously. "Next you will tell me you are as chaste as a monk." She backed toward the door.A grin slowly eased the hard line of his mouth. "I did not say that.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
There is no need to overreact. I’m certain there are worse things that could happen to a young lady than to be denied a voucher to Almack’s.” With a small smile, Amelia Bouchard folded up the letter that had delivered the bad news and tossed it into the fireplace.
— Rachel Pierson, Ruined By Nature
You've always done as you pleased, Princess. I can't change you, nor do I want to. You're strong, a fighter. And I've never wanted another woman as I want you.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
Just stop, for once, answering my questions with a question. And, incidentally, it's my concern because I care about you.
— Ayana Prende, The Anatomy of Desire
Her eyes narrowed with feigned disgust. "I cannot walk backwards anymore! I'm too afraid you'll run me into something."	He released one of her hands and reached around her, to cup her firm behind. "Trust me. I'd never risk hurting your backside.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
His gaze lowered to her breasts, scalding her with the intensity of his stare. "At this moment, I'm exceedingly glad I'm no longer a monk.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
He lifted his head, staring into her eyes as if searching for something. Voice ragged, he said, "I told you I'm a possessive man, Eleri. I want to keep you, mount you, fill you, but even as I hold you like this... I am still your captive. Have mercy and tell me you'll have me.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
The only death I fear is the one I fell when we're apart.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
To secure his king's trust, his family's future, and perhaps even his own happiness, he needed to convince her he was more than a mercenary -- in fact, a man who would stand by her side.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
A woman must find a husband, otherwise she is at the mercy of the world. If she waits for love and it never arrives, what is to become of her? I consented to Edward's proposal because he wanted me, and it was quite possible no other man would.
— Ayana Prende, The Anatomy of Desire
Mon dieu. I cannot leave without tasting your lips once more."	She read the question in his hooded gaze. She would not let him leave, of course, but allowing him a kiss seemed a reasonable consolation after saving her life. Especially as she wanted it , too. Longed for it.	She put her hand behind his neck, mimicking him, and threaded her fingers through his thick, wavy hair. "Take your kiss, my lord.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
What have you to trade for my silence?" ...	He opened his mouth to beckon the men, but Eleri moved like lightning. With her right arm restrained, she couldn't cut him. However, her weapon of choice caught him completely off-guard.	Her lips sealed to his, cutting off his voice in a hard kiss...	Bracing his back against the gnarled tree branches, he relaxed for more, but the kiss ended as briskly as it had begun....	Blood surging through his body, Warren grinned and lowered his face over hers. "Not the price I had in mind, but...um, shall we see what else you have to offer?
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
A woman on the verge of moral downfall ought to be well dressed. Claire's particular transgression was gartered to her thigh, a paper hidden by yards of silk. She walked through the empty alley, confident in one comforting truth: no one dared ask a lady what her skirts concealed...
— Gina Conkle, The Lady Meets Her Match
Growing up a steward's daughter on the grand Greenwich estate afforded her many opportunities. But life changed one fateful night, a reminder of who and what she was. Since then, she labored hard, building calluses anew on her hands and heart, all in an effort to fall into a deep sleep every night and forget what had happened years ago. Many more years of hard work stretched ahead of her.	Why not sip champagne once more?	What harm could come of that?
— Gina Conkle, The Lady Meets Her Match
Mr. Ryland was a riddle to unfold, an attractive one at that. The lone candle flickered behind him, outlining powerful shoulders, tempting solidness she wanted to test.	"But an evening of harmless flirtation isn't out of the question."	His gaze fixed on her. "I'd welcome an evening free of complications."	Did he just proposition her?
— Gina Conkle, The Lady Meets Her Match
The saucy Miss Tottenham slipped the strawberry into her delectable mouth, all the while looking at Cyrus. His thigh muscles tensed inside the velvet prison of his breeches. Hot pleasure shot through his body at the sight of the red berry slipping through her lips. Adding to his misery, a spurt of juice from the tender morsel painted her bottom lip red. He nearly groaned.	Tradition named the apple as the fruit of man's downfall, but tonight he'd argue mightily for the dangers of a ripe strawberry on a certain woman's lips.
— Gina Conkle, The Lady Meets Her Match
I'll kiss your feet if you'd scratch my nose.
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
Lulled into complacency, one of the brigands' hands loosened on his arm, and Warren had his chance. Breaking free, he grabbed a handful of Red's braids and tangled his fingers in the silky plaited coils. She cried out, flailing her arms, but he dragged her against him as he fell backward, pulling her down on top of him.	The warriors' retaliation was prompt...
— Sandra Jones, His Captive Princess
It was so unlikely that she should be there, standing on the far side of the ballroom, and yet there she was. Unlikely Lucy, gleaming, a jade flame burning bright in a sea of mere diamonds. Polished and disheveled at the same time, her fitted, elegant gown contrasted with hair that looked as if it had been precariously arranged and might escape its pins at any moment.
— Jenny Holiday, The Likelihood of Lucy
Being a pioneering reformer is all fine and good, but it does leave one terribly in want of agood party!
— Jenny Holiday, The Likelihood of Lucy
It had seemed entirely sensible at the time. A simple way to test the truth of her claim that she had lain with de Villiers. To show her that lying to him was useless. To make a point.Instead, he had ignited a desire that burned him like none he had ever felt before.He had expected Lady Laurien d'Amboise to be a timid little convent mouse. Quiet and passive and pliant. Easily manageable. Instead she was outspoken and strong-willed...and stunning in a way he could not even describe.An innocent beauty caught up in a deadly game that was none of her making....Malcolm rose to leave, chuckling."And what is there to laugh about?"Darach gave his jovial friend a dour look.Malcolm stopped just long enough to do his best imitation of Darach. "'Simple. Kidnap one French lass, hold her for a fortnight, and return her to de Villiers after he meets our demands. Perfectly simple.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
She frowned at him. "Not every man thinks constantly of... of..."Darach grinned. "Aye, they do, demoiselle. Every man, from the time he is about ten until the day he dies, thinks frequently of that.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
Camhanach, it is a bargain as old as the world itself." He chuckled."Women want protection...men want a willing lass to warm their bed.
— Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride
I've never met anyone as kind as you are, except me Mum, o' course." --Benjamin Trimmel to Lady Alexandra.
— Lisa M. Prysock, To Find a Duchess
And of course it has nothing to do with the fact that I haven't been with a women since I came to your bed back in February-Devlin.
— Gaelen Foley, Devil Takes a Bride
The Earl of Blackstone didn’t seem particularly mysterious to Emily. In fact, as he stood there silently—except for that sneering laugh he’d tried to cover up—she could think of several other adjectives to add to the list next time Sarah was searching for one: rude, self-important, boorish. And, if one could judge by the slightly slack-jawed way he stared at her, perhaps even “simple.
— Jenny Holiday, The Miss Mirren Mission
If you can write, you can read. And if you can read, you can better understand the world and its different societies. Knowledge is the key to destroying prejudice and individual hate, which always culminates in violence against the innocent.
— The Black Rose
There were times when he felt as if he were being literally torn in two. Times when he raged at the injustice of what was happening to him, times when he was overwhelmed with guilt. There was no right and wrong anymore, which had been one of clear-cut lines for so long, was now so blurred that he was careening around like a compass struggling to find true north.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
To Jane's horror, he unfolded her paper and read aloud. "Possible Candidates as Lovers.
— Tina Gabrielle, At the Spy's Pleasure
Celeste." Jack grinned. "How every appropriate. An angel sent from heaven to relieve my boredom.""An artist sent from France to paint your brother's estate," she retorted."Touché'. In that case we should get down to business.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
His eyes darkened. His hands slid up to her shoulders. She leaned into him as he pulled her towards him. It started so gently. Soft. Delicate. Celeste leant closer. The kiss deepened. she could feel the damp of his shirt and the heat of his skin beneath it. A drop of perspiration trickled down between her breasts, and she felt a sharp twist of pure desire.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember the taste of her and the feel of her and the smell of her. She was quite lovely. She was altogether ravishing. She would set any man's blood on fire. He shouldn't have kissed her.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
...People - the ones who are left behind - desire answers. Even when we are advised from beyond the grave not to pursue them.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
You're warning me off. There's no need, I assure you. At this moment in time, my only ambition is to get myself through the day ---" He broke off, realising too late what he'd admitted, remembering, suddenly, why he had kissed her in the first place. And now he'd given her the perfect opening to start again.But to his surprise, her expression softened. "Yes," she said. "That is how I have felt since --- since." She blinked rapidly, and forced a smile. "It is a good thing, this -- this---between us, because now I know that I am recovering myself...
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
...You, you look -- bien -- exactly what you were, a high-ranking British officer, used to unwavering obedience and with the air of a Greek god, gazing down on us mere mortals.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
The soldier in the portrait had been a respected and admired officer...The man he had become was fighting a different battle now. He had his demons, just as she had her ghosts.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
You! That is what is behind this. Ever since you -- As if I didn't have enough on my mind without having to lie awake thinking of you and your damned kisses and your damned questions.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
Maman’s life was an unfinished book. Celeste had to discover the ending, and then she could close the cover for ever.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret
Where is your Revolutionary spirit?""Beheaded," Celeste said.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Soldier's Dark Secret