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My petal. Westminster’s toy had tea issues. Thank Biffy and Lyall. Toodle pip. A.

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Petal
Westminster
Petals
Toys
Tea
Thank
Issues

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Poetry can cause irreparable harm when misapplied
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Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.
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Rail is such an undignified way to travel. All that rapid racing about. Floating has so much more gravitas.
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She was no closer to determining who might want her dead. There were just too many possibilities.
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Lord Maccon looked up. “Grovel, you say?” Lyall did not glance away from the latest vampire report he was perusing. “Grovel, my lord.
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Why? I mean, why you? I can perfectly comprehend not liking my husband. I dislike him intensely most of the time.” Professor Lyall stifled a chuckle. “I am given to understand that he does not approve of spelling one’ s name with two ll’s. He finds it inexcusably Welsh. I suspect he may be quite taken with you, however.
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Felicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one’s butler is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.
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There are words to describe her, my dear, but one does not repeat them in polite company.
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She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.
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As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
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I suspect it may be like the difference between a drinker and an alcoholic the one merely reads books, the other needs books to make it through the day.
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Ever since her trip with Alexia to Scotland, Mrs. Tunstell had rather a taste for foreign travel. Alexia blamed it on the kilts.
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The Gamma paused. “You have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?” “You can think of a better place to stash him?” “What about the wine?
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These things, regrettably, are bound to occur when one is married and befriended.
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[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.
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How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
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Oh, Lady Maccon, I am unreservedly in love with her. That black hair, that sweet disposition, those capital hats.
Gail Carriger
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She moved with such purpose it was as though she walked with exclamation marks.
Gail Carriger
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What’s that?” she asked the girl, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, that? That’s just Pillover.” “And what’s a pillover, when it’s at home?” “My little brother.” “Ah, I commiserate. I have several of my own. Dashed inconvenient, brothers.
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Miss Tarabotti was not one of life's milk-water misses--in fact, quite the opposite. Many a gentleman had likened his first meeting with her to downing a very strong cognac when one was expecting to imbibe fruit juice--that is to say, startling and apt to leave one with a distinct burning sensation.
Gail Carriger