c2p-cmd/Good-Quotes-Authors huggingface dataset:
The scene unfolded before him as though he were a ghost.	His mother stood on the raised stump, her body tied to the tall stake behind her. A pile of wood encircled her feet. Only a small crowd had gathered in the courtyard, despite his father’s commands that all should attend. Alasdair sobbed at her feet, calling out to her. The young Alasdair climbed on the pile and clutched her flowing gown. She had been dressed in her finest, not stripped down to her chemise like the handmaid who stood tied to a post beside her. His father had always liked a display. Alasdair’s hands reached and passed over his mother’s large pregnant belly. With that, she sobbed, too. “Oh, Ali, be good for Momma. I’ll see you in the pearly white heaven that God has promised us. Be steadfast, son. Trust your heart.”	“Light it,” his father ordered.
— Jean M. Grant, A Hundred Kisses
Did he actually believe in this curse? A curse! He snorted. Deirdre stirred.	Impossible. Curses were for witches, spell casters and the weak-minded.
— Jean M. Grant, A Hundred Kisses
A cloud of white death veiled in black…
— Jean M. Grant, A Hundred Kisses
Except I was hoping someday to see you standing on a ship's deck in your shirtsleeves with a cutlass between your teeth.""Maybe it can be arranged
— Melanie Dickerson, A Viscount's Proposal
He grinned: he’d turned in time to witness her delicate white shoulders dip below the water’s surface. Thankfully, she quickly completed her morning’s ablutions and made a shooing motion with her hands. Back turned again, he waited for her to dress, all the while telling his privy counselor to cease its repeated suggestions.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
You will be the death of me, woman.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
Here, sleep with your back against me. I shall protect you better this way.” She nodded, shuffled closer, and leaned back against him. Her unique womanly scent washed over him, and he fortified his resolve, though having her so close on a bed of furs fired his blood. She dragged her fur up, and he draped his extra across, tucking it in around her shoulders and arms. “I do not fancy having one of them lying next to you. Besides, I wish not for your pinkie to wander.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
Alexandra took the rose and lifted it to her face. The fragrance was intoxicating and the soft petals tickled her lips, as they must have done Benedict’s. It was as if he had kissed her. A shiver of delight caressed her body and she felt the warmth of a blush on her throat and cheeks.
— Ellen Read, The Dragon Sleeps
Together they looked skyward. The moonbow was shattering--mere bits of color in the blackness, a sort of bridge between heaven and earth--reminding her that even on the darkest nights there was a glimmer of home, of promise, however hazy.
— Laura Frantz, Moonbow Night
In another minute or two, those men would have tossed your skirts in that alley right there... if you were wearing skirts!” You should be thanking me for saving your sorry hide! By my calculations, that’s twice in one day.
— Melissa Lurquette, A Beautiful Bounty
A hot romp is timeless ...
— Sofie Darling
His brothers accepted his fluid nature as something Darian simply was. He had been so all his life; suspended between male and female, one rising, the other ebbing without pattern or reason. The Queen, daughterless and doting, had gladly let her youngest sonwear gowns, bows, and curls far longer than appropriate, until his father had intervened with violent persuasion. At court, he now moved as a man. In private, he never stopped wearing gowns or ribbons when the softer she inside him waxed like the full moon. He allowed her complete rein. In truth, he no longer knew where he ended and she began. They were the same.
— E.M. Hamill, Beneath the Layers
The pulse visible in the pale column of her neck vibrated faster, her intoxicating scent washed over him, and he was dizzy with lust. Even through his mail and gambeson, he could feel her womanly curves crushed against his hard chest. He uncurled his fingers from her throat and ran the tough leather of his palm’s mitten along her neck and to the enticing curve of her shoulder. He nudged her mantle an inch, exposing skin. He cursed that his hand was covered in mail. How long had he wanted to taste, to touch her precious skin? Unable to resist, he bent and, with his tongue, touched, tasted the heat of the skin on her collarbone. Oh, Christ, she was lovely. She shivered, and satisfaction roared through him.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
His heat, his erotic pull—she could feel it. A weird, pulsing, virtual pull tugging at her skin, her nerve endings. Made her want to…touch. Made her want. The more she resisted the urge, the stronger it became. It would be a relief, really. To just…touch. One little touch. Just one.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
Her pinkie took matters into its own, er, pinkie, and moved oh-so-slightly, grazing his skin. His pinkie, judging by the shape and texture. Blood rushed and pounded through her veins, flushing her skin. This could not, in any way, be explained as an accidental touch. But he could feign sleep if he wasn’t interested. Did she want him to do that? What was she doing? She commanded her pinkie to drop, and thankfully, it obeyed. A jolt shot through her as his finger made a query, and the need clarified. The need represented her desire for some measure of control. Control over her general situation. Control over her attraction. She answered with a gentle finger stroke along his calloused, warm skin. A sharp breath pierced the dark air.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
He leaned his head against the rock. Christ, when was the last time he’d seen the humor in life? And now, of all places, in an enemy camp, with a strange woman who made him burn. Burn with desire. Burn with need. A desire and need not only for her and her body, but for something he couldn’t quite name.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
She flapped her hands, anxious energy coursing through her. “How can you be so calm?” He got to his feet, unfolding with an easy grace. He held out a hand, his dark eyes focused solemnly on hers. “Come with me.” “For what?” “That’s part of the lesson.” Was it her imagination, or did a twinkle of humor stir in those eyes? “Center yourself, and grab onto the here and now.” That made no sense—what was he now, Sir Medieval Zen Master? But she slipped her hand into his strong, calloused one. He hauled her up until she bumped into his chest. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face until she looked in his eyes. “Listen to the world around you. Hear the birds? Hear the small animals scurrying? You are in this moment, this moment only, and sometimes that’s all you can do, all you can be.” His finger pulled away, brushing against her skin, and he tapped her nose, stepping away.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
She led them to their pallets, again encircled by other pallets. She sat down, sighing at her aching muscles, and caught his gaze. “You may, er, wrap your arms around me if that will make you feel I am safer.” He chuckled--a hoarse chuckle, rusty, but a chuckle nonetheless. She’d take it. “May I indeed?” He lay beside her and pulled her back against him, settling her head on his arm, bunching the other hide up to use as a pillow. “If I must.” His warm sigh tickled across her neck. “After all, I must ensure that pinkie does not wander.” Would Robert never let her forget that?
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Chainmail
He clutched her to him with a desperate strength that almost hurt. "I will love you for your light, if you can love me through the dark times. And that love will be like the clear night sky when the moon is full. Not like the sun....but beautiful and bright enough to find our way.
— Kerrigan Byrne, The Duke
Though we are not together in body, know that I will always be with you in spirit. I will be in the whistling wind and in your dreams. Think of me in the joy of watching snow fall and know that I am thinking of you always.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
When she straightened, he leaned back in the chair, his eyelids heavy. “My God, woman, you know how to make a man melt.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
He hadn’t landed on the battlefield to save Christina, at least not entirely. He’d landed there because it was meant to be – because his destiny lay with a bonny woman who would capture his heart and show him honor and respect on a uniquely deep level that had been lost in the twenty-first century.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
When their lips finally met, all the pent up emotion within Christina’s breast surged, funneling into a whirlwind of heat. Pushing away all thoughts, she allowed herself only to feel. Lachlan could be so physical, so powerful, so brutal, but when he wrapped his arms around her, Christina felt invincible. Be it true or nay, she felt loved, and cherished, and valued. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his locks. Soft waves of thick tresses contrasted with hardened male….	As his kiss eased, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I wish I could hold you in my arms forever.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
He had years of experience and training. She'd unraveled them in a week, and he was left at loose ends. This distraction, this madness of desire and yearning- it was everything a man in his position needed to avoid. On second thought, perhaps his senses hadn't been muddled. After all, they had been meticulously attuned to detect the slightest hint of peril.This woman- this beautiful, unbiddable, all-too-perceptive woman- was his personal embodiment of danger. She could ruin him. Destroy everything he'd worked to become.And she would do it all with a smile.
— Tessa Dare, Do You Want to Start a Scandal
My mum always taught that the truth will set you free.”	“Did she now?”	“Mm hmm,” Lachlan brushed the pad of his pointer finger over her cheek’s silken skin. “But she kept one truth hidden from me until very recently.”	“What was that?”	He gulped. “You know the truth thing on the medallion?	“Aye.”	“Well, if that’s my rallying cry, then it will mean the world to me if you trust that I’m not lying.”	She let the disk drop back to his chest. “Ye can tell me anything, I’d reckon.”	He needed to tell her the truth. “My father is – was William Wallace.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
He took a step back to distance himself from her wicked, mind-consuming scent. In the future if he wanted to bamboozle an opponent in the karate ring, all he had to do was splash on some eau de Christina.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
Howie brought her hand to his lips. “You stepped in front of me,” he said in wonder. “I didn’t need you to. I can handle Prudence Morgan.” “But you didn’t.” She tapped his chest. “You stayed quiet for the longest time before responding.” “Quiet is how I handle difficult people….” “You don’t handle me that way.” Her voice came out sounding breathless. Howie slipped his arms around her. “If it were up to me, this is how I’d handle you.” Butterflies danced in her stomach. Not a fearful battering of wings, but a sparkling mating flight, making her heart soar into her throat. “Why isn’t it up to you?
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
Even through her coat, he could feel the curve of her arm, making him aware of their differences. Man and woman. Hard and soft.
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
Don’t be sorry, Darlin’”, he said in his best cowboy drawl, “for I’m certainly not. It’s not every day a man like me gets to assist such a pretty lady. Any time you need help in or out of a wagon, you just give me a holler” he said in a teasing tone, “I’ll be right there, hoping you’ll fall in my arms again.
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
Howie rose and smiled down at her. “I just eat what’s put before me without being picky. I know everything you make will make my tastebuds bless the day you set foot in Morgan’s Crossing” he drawled, waiting to see the adorable look of confusion that crossed her face when he flirted.Bertha lowered her gaze and looked up at him through her eyelashes.“Only your tastebuds?
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
I particularly want you to meet Miss Bucholtz.” The very idea made him uneasy. “Why is that,Ma’am?” he bluntly asked. Mrs. Morgan hesitated. “Keep this under your hat, mind you.” “Yes, Ma’am.”  She let out a tired sigh. “I’ve brought Miss Bucholtz to replace Mr. Gabellini.” Howie pictured a dried up old spinster with the same commanding presence as Mrs. Morgan, a real battle-axe. “Fireworks are coming. Are you sure a woman is the right, uh, person for the job?” “Bertha Bucholz is one of the best cooks I know. I guarantee by this time next month, you men will all be sporting five extra pounds.
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
Cole stilled when his feral eyes found her, roaming every inch as though searching for a wound. The doorway framed him like a portal to purgatory, and he stood like an avenging archangel come to wreak a wrath no less than biblical. The swells of his powerful chest heaved against the white of his shirtsleeves now blotched and stained with blood. The blade on his prosthesis was extended past the motionless metal fingers, and blood dripped from it into a thick crimson puddle on the marble floor.
— Kerrigan Byrne, The Duke
A woman’s lust is addictive ," he murmured, marveling at the wetness coating his fingers as he stroked her. She trembled and her breath hitched in response. "It inspires a man to touch and to taste.
— Alexandra Hawkins, Waiting For an Earl Like You
She sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a civilized bathroom.” Howie remained silent out of habit and also because he didn’t know what a civilized bathroom was.
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
He hated having to look for a new girl, a new spy to add to his band of fallen women. Yes, it was an opportunity to spare her before her ruin could be known, but a deep part of him hurt for the women in his employ and what they’d all endured.
— Madeline  Martin, Highland Spy
A large man with wild blond hair gripped hr horse’s reins, drawing her steed to a stop.	“Welcome to hell.” Though he presented a jovial grin, his words shot straight to her gut.	“Enough, Murdoch,” Sylvi said in a warning tone.	The man shrugged his shoulders. “Ach, I’m just toying with the new lasses. “I’ll no’ be here long to share my winning personality.
— Madeline  Martin, Highland Spy
With the way Bertha can cook and her good-natured personality, she’ll be married in no time. We’ll see to it!” She cast a speculative glance around. “Why I see ten available men within a hundred feet of us. ... Bertha will manage just fine…“ I hope.
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
A job isn’t ‘till death do us part…
— Debra Holland, Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Novella
I falter in the doorway, swept with memories of my reckless behavior last time I saw him. I sipped wine from a bottle. I kissed him. And as my pulse flutters with excitement, I know I would do it again, given the chance.
— Meghan Masterson, The Wardrobe Mistress: A Novel of Marie Antoinette
What to make of this man? He was proper. He was passionate. He had the public demeanor of an iceberg, but he kissed her as if she were his oasis in a vast, arid d
— Tessa Dare, Do You Want to Start a Scandal
There was a moment of tenderness between them, and for a moment he experienced the most rare, ridiculous emotion- hope.
— Tessa Dare, Do You Want to Start a Scandal
Temperance Dews stood with quiet confidence, a respectable women who lived in the sewer that was St. Giles. Her eyes had widened at the sight of Lazarus, but she made no move to flee. Indeed, finding a strange man in her pathetic sitting room seemed not to frighten her at all.Interesting.“I am Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire,” he said.“I know. What are you doing here?”He tilted his head, studying her. She knew him, yet did not recoil in horror? Yes, she’d do quite well. “I’ve come to make a proposition to you, Mrs. Dews.”Still no sign of fear, though she eyed the doorway. “You’ve chosen the wrong woman, my lord. The night is late. Please leave my house.”No fear and no deference to his rank. An interesting woman indeed.“My proposition is not, er, illicit in nature,” he drawled. “In fact, it’s quite respectable. Or nearly so.”She sighed, looked down at her tray, and then back up at him. “Would you like a cup of tea?”He almost smiled. Tea? When had he last been offered something so very prosaic by a woman? He couldn’t remember.But he replied gravely enough. “Thank you, no.”She nodded. “Then if you don’t mind?”He waved a hand to indicate permission.She set the tea tray on the wretched little table and sat on the padded footstool to pour herself a cup. He watched her. She was a monochromatic study. Her dress, bodice, hose, and shoes were all flat black. A fichu tucked in at her severe neckline, an apron, and cap—no lace or ruffles—were all white. No color marred her aspect, making the lush red of her full lips all the more startling. She wore the clothes of a nun, yet had the mouth of a sybarite.The contrast was fascinating—and arousing.“You’re a Puritan?” he asked.Her beautiful mouth compressed. “No.
— Elizabeth Hoyt, Wicked Intentions
Oh, the way he was looking at her, really looking at her . . . this was the Christopher of her dreams. This was the man who had written to her. He was so caring, and real, and dazzling, that she wanted to weep.“I thought . . .” Christopher broke off and drew his thumb over the hot surface of her cheek.“I know,” she whispered, her nerves sparking in excitement at his touch.“I didn’t mean to do that.”“I know.”His gaze went to her parted lips, lingering until she felt it like a caress. Her heart labored to supply blood to her nerveless limbs. Every breath caused her body to lift up against his, a teasing friction of firm flesh and clean, warm linen.Beatrix was transfixed by the subtle changes in his face, the heightening color, the silver brightness of his eyes.She wondered if he were going to kiss her.And a single word flashed through her mind.Please. . .
— Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon
I’ll never leave you. I’ll never mistreat you. I think you know that by now. Try with me. Let us find what we may find.”“What do you expect to find, Robert?”“How should I know? I’ve never experienced anything like this before in my life.” Tears shone briefly under her graceful long lashes before she blinked them away and glanced at him again with a reluctant twist of a smile. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees and sighed.“You are asking us both to set ourselves up for great hurt when it comes time for me to leave.”“Leave? Don’t speak of leaving, angel. You must stay forever.”“As your mistress.”“As my love,” he countered insistently.
— Gaelen Foley, The Duke
Before Christina could stop herself, her gaze dipped lower. Holy saints, the outline of his manhood stretched the cloth taut. She’d never seen a man so well endowed. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her hand against her forehead and tried not to swoon while she forced herself to snap her gaze to his face. “They’re braies, not box-ers.” She bent down, picked up his blue ones and held them up. “Ye ken?”		“Right, bra-ie-s,” he said as if it were a new word for him. “How do you keep them up?
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
I'll be fine. It's just hard to love somebody who doesn't love you back," Fallon answered.
— Marcia Lynn McClure, Divine Deception
God, you’re beautiful,” he growled while his cock throbbed with need.	“Ye keep telling me that and ye’ll have me believing it,” she said with the sexiest, most breathless voice he’d ever heard.	His fingers sank into her supple flesh. Her breasts were so full, so pliable, he craved to have his mouth on them, craved to suckle her nipples and listen to every soft moan. “You’d best believe me, because whenever you’re near, I feel like a caveman.”	“A wild beast?”	He nearly roared. “The wildest imaginable.
— Amy Jarecki, The Time Traveler's Christmas
The engorged moon hung full and low in the sky like a yellow skull. Misshapen clouds stretched across the floating orb with elongated hands and bony fingers grasping. As they neared the docks, the gas lamps grew fewer and the streets gloomier. The cobblestones blackened as they passed the deserted brickfields. Bottle-shaped kilns spat their outrage with orange tongues of fire into the cooling air. Mangy dogs snarled in hunger and wandering sea-gulls screamed their displeasure at the hansom’s passage.
— Brian S. Ference, The Wolf of Dorian Gray: A Werewolf Spawned by the Evil of Man
I know you do not think very highly of me, but in some circles, I'm quite the thing.
— Jessie Clever, For Love of the Earl
Rory did not want her.	After devoting so much effort to avoid being wed to a man she did not want, she found herself bound to a man who did not want her.
— Margaret Mallory, Claimed by a Highlander
God save him, she smelled of a field of roses and tasted sweeter than port wine.	Drawing her hands over her mouth Charlotte gasped. “Hugh. How did we end up on the bed?”	“I think we must have floated,” he whispered.
— Amy Jarecki, The Fearless Highlander
Steeling her resolve, she stepped further into the study. “Regardless if I have your blessing, I have made up my mind. I love Hugh Maclain. It is he whom I will wed.”	Pap guzzled the remaining dregs. Slamming the bottle to the table with a belch, his gaze wandered to the hearth rather than to Charlotte. “No.” He drew the word out and it hung in the air and chilled like death. “You cannot marry a corpse.
— Amy Jarecki, The Fearless Highlander
He pulled her into his arms. Closing his eyes, he savored every inch of her small frame. God, why did she have to be the daughter of the Governor of Fort William? Why could she not be a simple lass from his clan. “Och, mo leannan, what am I to do with you?”	She took in a stilted gasp. “Love me.
— Amy Jarecki, The Fearless Highlander
She held her finger to his lips. “We have a lifetime to reveal our secrets.”	In a bold move, she took his hand and led him to the bed.	Ever so eager to follow, Hugh’s mouth suddenly went dry. Hell, he couldn’t even manage a swallow. “Are you ready, my love?” he croaked.	Licking those delectable lips, she nodded. “I want you more than the air I breathe.
— Amy Jarecki, The Fearless Highlander
Would you like to see where I will build your house, m’lady?”	She grinned. “You mean our house?”	He mirrored her smile. “Aye.”	Taking her hand, he led her along the path to the mouth of the River Coe. They stood on a curved peninsula high above the river where it would be free from floods. Hugh spread his arms wide and looked across Loch Leven. “The hills of Glencoe will be our backdrop, the river of the Coe will be our music, and our galleys will sail through the water of the Leven to Loch Linnhe and out to sea. Mark me, my love, Clan Iain Abrach will rebuild, and will once again rule these lands.”	He looked into her eyes and saw joy there. “And you will be my queen.
— Amy Jarecki, The Fearless Highlander
Our glass train, on fragile tracksBeneath bombs that fall like the floodTo wash away the shards—But all this sorrow will recedeAnd we will leaveTwo by twoAnd until then, I will only think of you.
— Danny M. Cohen, Train
Perhaps... Perhaps he could make her happy. Not with the Granville money or his social cachet, but just by being the man he was, at his core. Sometimes, when he looked deep into those blue eyes, it felt like anything was possible.
— Tessa Dare, Do You Want to Start a Scandal
You should not have kissed me," she replied breathlessly."I do a lot of things I shouldn't. It does not mean I won't do them again.
— Amy Sandas, Luck Is No Lady
Her beloved lunatic needed her–whether he knew it or not. Whatever it took, she was not leaving without him.
— Gaelen Foley, My Ruthless Prince
... but we’ll be back for dinner … especially if you’re having soup de jour!”“Now, Troy! You know very well that soup de jour means ‘soup of the day.’ It changes every time!
— Kellyn Roth, The Lady of the Vineyard
Yes, and you did it spectacularly. They were the best non words ever not spoken.
— Robert Thier, In the Eye of the Storm
Helen likes Brussels sprouts. How can anyone trust her opinion?
— Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne
Love was like a stock, Lizzie realized. You gambled on its paying off in the long run—but it could just as easily cost you everything.
— Joanna Shupe, Magnate
He kissed her temple. "Would you read to me?"	"You wouldn't grow bored?"	"Not if you were reading, my love."	Helen slipped off the bed, tiptoed into the main chamber and retrieved the book from the table. When she returned, Eoin had situated the candelabra to provide good light, and arranged the pillows for comfort.	How wonderful it was to be with a man who actually cared enough to do simple things like fluffing the pillows.	He opened his arms and beckoned her to him. "Come and tell me what this story's about."	"It would be my pleasure, sir knight." Helen climbed up and snuggled into his arms. She opened the cover and read the title. "'The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle'." She looked at Eoin and grinned. "The story begins when the mystical knight, Sir Gromer Somer Joure, challenges King Arthur to discover what women desire most, or face dire consequences."	He rested his chin on her shoulder and peered at the pages. "You have me entranced already.
— Amy Jarecki, Highland Knight of Rapture
I love stepping back in time
— Frances McCarthy, The Colonel's Secret Rendezvous
Strange how a tiny hand could make the weight of his new responsibilities feel like a boulder on his chest.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
Blessed desire gripped her nether parts as her passion inflamed. Helen shamelessly rocked her hips from side to side. "My, you have turned me into a wanton woman."	"And that's a bad thing?" His voice grew deeper with each word.
— Amy Jarecki, Highland Knight of Rapture
Indulge me this once, Meg. Her name was a whisper on his lips. Soft. Seductive. Meanwhile his eyes gleamed mischievously, daring her to say yes.
— Anna  Bennett, My Brown-Eyed Earl
There was no denying it; his wicked words thrilled her. Like a feather slowly brushing over her bare skin, they teased and tantalized, awakening every inch of her body.
— Anna  Bennett, My Brown-Eyed Earl
For her, their romantic interlude atop the staircase had been a glorious, magical, enlightening introduction to pleasure. For him,it had merely been Friday evening.
— Anna  Bennett, My Brown-Eyed Earl
to want any woman so badly was unwise, let alone his enemy's daughter." An Artful Seduction
— Tina Gabrielle
Burning her husband's bed was a mistake. Alison could see that now.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
David strode through the battle raging between his men and the castle defenders in the courtyard and headed straight for the keep, intent on his goal.The castle would fall quickly. The defenders lacked leadership and were in disarray. His only concern was whether the castle had a secret tunnel for escape. During the siege, he had spread his men out through the fields surrounding the fortress to keep watch. But he had concentrated his forces for the attack and most were now inside the castle. If there was a tunnel, he must secure the widow and her daughters before they had a chance to escape. He did not relish the idea of having to chase them down through the fields with dogs.The defenders had foolishly waited too long to withdraw to the keep, and most were caught in the courtyard when David’s men burst through the gate. He barely spared them a glance as he ran up the steps of the keep.With several of his warriors at his back, he burst through the doors brandishing his sword. He paused inside the entrance to hall. Women and children were screaming, and the few Blackadder warriors who had made it inside were overturning tables in a useless attempt to set up a defense.“If ye hope for mercy, drop your weapons,” David shouted, making his voice heard above the chaos.He locked gazes with the men who hesitated to obey his order until every weapon clanked to the floor, then he swept his gaze over the women. Their clothing confirmed what he’d known the moment he entered the hall. Blackadder’s widow was not in the room.“Where is she?” he demanded of the closest Blackadder man.“Who, m’lord?” the man said, shifting his gaze to the side.“Your mistress!” David picked him up by the front of his tunic and leaned in close. “Tell me now.”“In her bedchamber,” the man squeaked, pointing to an arched doorway. “’Tis up the stairs.”David caught a sudden whiff of urine and dropped the man to the floor in disgust. The wretch had wet himself.“Take him to the dungeon,” he ordered. The coward had given up his mistress far too easily.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
David started up the wheeled stairs to the upper floors with his sword at the ready. He expected to encounter Blackadder warriors, protecting the lady of the castle. But there were none on the stairs and none guarding the door on the first floor.Damn it. She must have escaped. He gritted his teeth as he envisioned the lady’s guards leading her through the tunnel.He was about to open the chamber door to make sure it was empty when Brian, one of his best men, came down the stairs.“Laird, I checked all the chambers while ye were in the hall,” he said.David’s jaw ached from clenching it.“There’s one door on the floor just above us that wouldn’t open with the latch,” Brian said. “Shall I break it down?”David waved him aside and pulled the ax from his belt as he raced up the stairs.“Open it!” he shouted and pounded on the door.He did not wait. She could be escaping through a secret door this very moment. Three hard whacks with his ax, and the door split. He kicked it until it swung open, then stepped through.At his first sight of the woman, his feet became fixed to the floor. He felt strange, and his vision was distorted, as if as if he had swallowed a magical potion that narrowed his sight. He could see nothing in the room but her.She was extraordinarily lovely, with violet eyes, pale skin, and shining black hair. But there was something about her, something beyond her beauty, that held him captive. She was young, much younger than he expected, and her features and form were delicate, in marked contrast to the violent emotion in her eyes.David knew to the depths of his soul that a brute like him should not be the man to claim this fragile flower, even while the word mine beat in his head like a drum. He had no notion of how long he stood staring at her before he became aware that she held a sword. It was longer still before he noticed the two wee lasses peeking out from behind her like frightened kittens.Anger boiled up in his chest. Every Blackadder man in the castle who could still draw breath should have been here, standing between him and their lady. Instead, she faced him alone with a sword she could barely lift with both hands.It was a brave, but ridiculous gesture.There was no defense against him.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
Loyalty is everything to him,” Robbie said. “He expected ye to trust him, to believe in him, without requiring an explanation.” She had failed David, and he could not forgive her.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
I should never have expected loyalty from a Douglas,” he spat out. He turned his back on her and went to the window.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
I was a possession he had a right to use, a woman with no feelings that mattered.” Wedderburn still did not speak. “I don’t want to feel like that again,” she said in a whisper. Wedderburn’s eyes were dark with a violent emotion, but his hands were gentle as he held her face. “You’ll never be just any woman to me,” he said. “I want to know you, Alison Douglas.
— Margaret Mallory, Captured by a Laird
She smiled, and her smile was filled with all of the sweetness and forgiveness that she offered so freely - and that he didn't deserve. But maybe, as with God, it was time to finally stop condemning himself and accept the gift.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
A good man would tell you to stop writing. A good man would say to you, “No, love, don’t wait for me. Live your life.” A good man would be happy that you were off somewhere in the world doing all the things you deserve. But, Miss Ada, I am no good man. I am, in fact, selfish, very bleeding selfish when it comes to you. Good man or no, I will tell you I believe a life lived without love is one not worthy of living a’tall.
— Eden Butler, Platform Four
Most of my money remains in England, although my unworthy carcass may not under usual circumstances ...
— Kellyn Roth, The Lady of the Vineyard
I’m going to take Charity to France. I can look after her there. You can go on with your life here, and I won’t be here to … to bother anyone.”He muttered two quiet words.“What?” she asked in bewilderment, inching forward to hea
— Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne
What do ladies wear beneath their riding trousers?""I would think an infamous rake would already know.""I was never infamous. In fact, I'm fairly standard as far as rakes go.""The ones who deny it are the worst.
— Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake
He slipped his tongue between her lips and thrust it wantonly inside her mouth over and over, echoing the enticing move of his hips against hers. She clutched him closer, reveling in the feel of him, and the fact that she'd made him moan for her, whisper her name over and over, beg her without words for more. To kiss him more. To touch him more.
— Karen Hawkins, The Princess Wore Plaid
This was the kind of kiss you remembered when you were a very old lady with a very poor memory.
— Valerie Bowman, The Untamed Earl
It's a sin.""How do you know?""Because it feels like one," she managed to say.He laughed quietly and pulled her hips farther toward him with a decisiveness that drew a little yelp from her. "In that case...I never sin by half measures.
— Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake
You took Theo's title and his home," West continued in appalled disbelief, "and now you want his wife.""His widow," Devon muttered."Have you seduced her?""Not yet."West clapped his hand to his forehead. "Christ. Don't you think she's suffered enough?
— Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake
I believe I was about to do this." He angled his head and nibbled on her lower lip. A small moan escaped her. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss and found she did not hesitate to explore on her own. Blood rushed to his groin and stiffened his arousal. Never had he met a lady so comfortable with her sensuality.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Breeches
You tempt me beyond reason." Her heart sped up. Indeed he tempted her beyond reason too.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
A fire burned in her chest. A fire that both terrified her and compelled her to lean into him and take everything he would give her. She trembled with the force of these strange emotions. 	"Shona." He lifted his hand to gently tilt her chin up and caress her cheek. His breath teased her lips and his nose touched hers briefly. 	"Aye," she responded.	His masculine scent and that of spices from the mulled wine stole her thoughts. When his lips touched hers like a light brush of silk, she was ensnared and her breath remained trapped in her chest. Some instinct within her surged to the surface and she pressed her lips firmly against his.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
I should never have allowed you to kiss me."	"Saints, Shona." Could she not see that he cared for her? 'Twas not as if he merely wanted beneath her skirts. She had stolen his heart.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
If only she had lived back then... experienced a real ball... not this play-acting. "Wouldn't that be amazing to truly be at this ball in 1834?" she whispered. The silver under her thumb flared with heat. The room spun. The air, colors and sounds muted as if she was inside an abstract color painting.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Breeches
Shona thought of another question. "What does a man expect of a woman? I would have no inkling what to do." 	Isobel waved a hand. "He will show you soon enough. Anyway, it will come to you as if 'twas something you'd always known. Accepting his kisses and kissing him back. Touching him. Men loved to be touched."	"Where?"	"Anywhere," Isobel snickered. "I remember one thing that surprised me the first time. Although I should have known considering how men are always staring down at my breasts."	Shona felt her eyes widen again, then tried to hide her shock.	"Men love to kiss and suckle nipples," Isobel whispered. 	"Heavens, you cannot be serious." Shona felt like the most naive person on earth at that moment. 	"Indeed, I am. That is why they're always gawking at women's breasts, even when they're covered my layers of clothing. They also like to fondle, squeeze, kiss and stroke them."	Shona cleared her throat. She had never imagined such a thing.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
Her passion for these items lit her eyes. The claws for instinct and desire gripped him. Her passion for history, he had to drink it, transmute it into another kind of passion. He framed her face with his hands, pushed her back into the recess between the two cases, and captured her silken mouth with his own.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Breeches
The rapid pulse in her wrist vibrated against his lips. His own rhythm matching the jumps in her heartbeat. He closed his eyes, breathed in her sweet scent one last time, and looked down into her eyes. She stared back at him, boldly assessing. God help him. He could not seduce her. He could not live with himself if he did. Expecting her to remove her hand, he closed his eyes again and sighed softly, willing his body to relax. Her hand slowly left his face. This is for the best. His heart and body ached at the loss and the unfulfillment of his desires. The next instant, her gentle hand stroked his chin and bottom lip and his whole body jerked. He kept his eyes closed, afraid to break the spell. Warm fingers slid down his neck. Shivers coursed up and down his spine. Sweet was the torment and fragile was his control as he felt it slip away.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Breeches
He crushed her mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. A kiss that made her stomach drop away.
— Angela Quarles, Must Love Breeches
The breeze was calm and the sun beamed between the scattering clouds. Glancing across the rolling heather-covered landscape and toward the burn, he didn't see Remy or anyone else. "Twas too bad that the heather was not in bloom for the sight would have been lovely. Glancing up, he noticed something else. A giant double rainbow spanned across the horizon, one slightly dimmer than the other. 	"Ah," he halted and turned in the saddle. "Have you ever seen such a bonny rainbow?"	Shona gasped. "Nay. 'Tis very bright."	Even lovelier, at least to Keegan, was Shona's smile as she took in the scenery. She was so beautiful, his chest ached. Yet, he knew not how he was going to keep her in his life so that he might see her smile every day.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
She dropped her hand, but he caught it and kissed her palm. His lips and warm breath on her sensitive skin fragmented her thoughts. His gaze held hers with that intense, magnetic force she didn't understand. It compelled her to draw closer to him. And she did. He leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. It surprised her and served as a potent temptation. Unable to quell her enthusiasm, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and tilted her chin up hungering for another kiss like the one they'd shared the night before. 	"Saints!" Keegan growled, then took her mouth. His wicked tongue flicked at her lips and she opened for him - completely ready to devour him. But he did not seem in a hurry as he tempted and taunted her, barely touching his tongue to hers, then retreating. A sound escaped her and she was shocked to realize that it was halfway between a moan and a needy whine. He gave an answering groan and stroked his tongue inside her mouth. It darted around hers and then swirled. He hummed a soft sound. "So sweet," he whispered.
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
How could he live never knowing what it would be like to hold her close and sleep with her the whole night through?
— Vonda Sinclair, My Daring Highlander
With a hoarse moan, he swept her against him, kissing her wildly, passionately, his mouth promising and teasing, as if her kiss had broken the dam that had held back his passion.
— Karen Hawkins, The Princess Wore Plaid
You challenge me to be a better person. And no one else does that, except maybe my mother.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
You can't be perfect. No one is. That's why we need God.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
And the only hope-perhaps the real hope he'd been missing all along-was found in God.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
You're safe now.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
Her face a mask of fury and determination.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
But she'd learned instead to hope in the one Beacon that would always be there, no matter what darkness came her way.
— Jody Hedlund, Forever Safe
In my dictionary, romance is not maudlin, treacly sentiment. It is a curry, spiced with excitement, and humour, and a healthy dollop of cynicism.
— Loretta Chase, Lord of Scoundrels
The love within them shone as brightly as the lighthouse beam on the darkest, stormiest night. It broke through her confusion and heartache and filled her with a warm glow.
— Jody Hedlund, Undaunted Hope
He inclined his head toward a fallen log. "Come. Let us break our fast."	She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples as if she had an ache in her head. "I need a cup of coffee."	William sat on a log. "What is this ye say ... coffee?"	She looked at him and arched one brow as if she considered him daft. "It's a hot drink that helps me wake up in the morning."	"But ye are already awake.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
You are charismatic. Men are drawn to you. I am drawn to you. And by your size, let alone your skill with weapons, they will be in awe of you.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
She swatted the fur beside her. "Sit."	Growling, he shoved his dirk back in its sheath. "I'll listen, but if ye lift a finger against me, I'll slit your throat afore ye can draw your next breath."	"I'll keep that in mind." Eva smoothed her fingers over her throat ...
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
Isn't one man's truth another man's lie?
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
Barely able to breathe, Eva's tongue slipped across her lips.	He moved a bit closer. "Every time ye walk past, I want ye. Your scent sends my insides into a maelstrom of need."	She closed her eyes and drew out the moment, wishing he'd say that again. Oh, how delectable to listen to a medieval Scotsman declare his desire.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
Buchan had discovered a wealth of small tidbits. He now knew her first name - Tatiana. Like Shakespeare's fairy queen. "Be she but little, she is fierce.
— Karen Hawkins, The Princess Wore Plaid
He opened his eyes to half-cast. With a low rumble he lifted her onto his hips. "Take me to heaven, lassie. For no one but ye can cool the fire thrumming in my blood.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
He picked up the hairbrush and handed it to her. "What were you planning to do with that, comb me to death?
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
It's a jump, Minuette, that's all it is. A jump out of this world, straight into my arms."Incredibly, she managed to smile. "You will catch me?"He pressed his lips against hers. "Always.
— Laura Anderson
Unbridled passion with an incredibly hot seven hundred-year-old Highlander in the middle of the night? Mm Yeah. Bring it on.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
Nothing could stir Eva's passion like a tall, muscular Scotsman disrobing. Lordy, she could watch him stand before her in the nude for hours.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
So you wish me to forget that you are a sheikh and a prince and a crown prince and soon to be King? That is a lot to forget.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
It is terrifyingly beautiful," Julia said softly.	"Terrifying?"	"Nature at its most beautiful and most lethal. It is like standing on the edge of one of those lakes in Switzerland, so blue and so calm and so deep and so dangerous. You have the overwhelming urge to plunge in, even though you know the cold will kill you. This desert - your desert - it makes me want to walk into it and keep walking. You probably think I'm being ridiculously fanciful."	"I would not have put it in those words, but they are exactly how I feel about Qaryma. Terrifyingly beautiful.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
There is an old saying, that in the desert a camel is more useful than a kingdom," he said ruefully, "but as a location for lovemaking, it leaves a lot to be desired.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
She was riding a camel, in the most beautiful desert, in the kingdom belonging to this most beautiful man. A man who thought she had the most delightful rear. A man who wanted to kiss her every bit as much as she wanted to kiss him. "I know that I will regret saying this, but at this moment in time, I think I could manage anything.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
There is nothing more effective in igniting a man's desire than a woman's passion. To see the fire in your eyes, to feel the fire in your blood as you touch me, it sets me on fire too. Do you imagine I would prefer to kiss a woman who responds only with -- with compliance? No, I would not. No red-blooded man would. Never apologize for passion. Restraint, Julia, has no place in lovemaking.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
She laced her arms around his neck. "Are you hungry, Azhar?"	His smile made her blood fizz. "Ravenous, Julia."	"Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me," she whispered into his ear, "Because I too am starving.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
Was your magic carpet out of commission?
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
I thought I had to be alone to be free. But I am only ever truly myself when I am with you, Azhar. I know, that is such an -- an extravagant thing to say, but it is true. I have to realize that freedom means having the ability to choose. To choose to share your life, to choose to love unconditionally. The two are inseparable. There is no freedom without love and there is no love without freedom.
— Marguerite Kaye, The Widow and the Sheikh
She ... grabbed her bra, clasping it and shoving her arms through.	"Ye harness your udders?" The man was insufferable.	"For your information, it's a bra - short for brassiere, something that wasn't invented until the twentieth century.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.	Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.	Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven's stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.	God on the cross, save me.	Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God's teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel.
— Amy Jarecki, Rise of a Legend
Before her, with sharp blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blond hair, was Josephine Marie Elizabeth Cavendish, Her Grace, the Duchess of Durham, widow of the fifth duke, and aunt to the Cavendish siblings.One did not call her Josie. Amelia had asked.
— Maya Rodale, Lady Bridget's Diary
It was a chaste kiss, but as her lips brushed his warm cheek, her eyes met his. They were deep and dark, warm with passion and longing. And somehow she knew, without question, what he thought. What he felt.	Time held its breath - and in that moment, looking into Buchan's warm, tormented gaze, Tatiana's heart awoke.
— Karen Hawkins, The Princess Wore Plaid
Beware, lion’s lady, for your predator is hungry tonight. He may not wait long before devouring you.” “Devouring me?” she asked, challenge gleaming in her eyes. “What if I devour him first?
— Shelly Thacker, Forever His