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And so Harry became proficient in the task of cleaning up vomit.

Julia Quinn

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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Harry
Task
Tasks
Became
Proficient
Vomit
Cleaning

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Besides, he said breezily, were it not for misunderstandings, we would be sadly lacking in great literature. She looked at him questioningly. Where would Romeo and Juliet be? Alive.
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I have thoroughly compromised your niece, Alex declared. Will you plase insist that she marry me? Caroline didn't bat an eyelash. This, she announced, is most peculiar.
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Every unmarried man is looking for a wife. They just don't always know it.
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The girl doesn’t need a violin,” he added. “She needs to have her hands bound so she can never touch an instrument again.
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Daphne felt something wild and wicked take hold. “Let’s walk in the garden,” she said softly. “We can’t.” “We must.” “We can’t.
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I keep waiting for the day in which everyone who loves Downton Abbey will realize they were actually watching a historical romance novel.
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To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.
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You have a mother? He quirked a brow. Did you think mine was some sort of divine birth? My father was a remarkable man, but even he was not that talented.
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Have you seen Frances?” He tilted his head to the right. “I believe she’s off rooting about in the bushes.” Anne followed his gaze uneasily. “Rooting?” “She told me she was practicing for the next play.” Anne blinked at him, not following. “For when she gets to be a unicorn.” “Oh, of course.” She chuckled. “She is rather tenacious, that one.
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No words for the passion. No words for the need.No words for the sheer epiphany of the moment.And so, on an otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon, in the heart of Mayfair, in a quiet drawing room on Mount Street, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.And it was glorious.
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And for the rest of the night, he couldn’t quite forget the smell of her perfume. Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle. Or maybe it was neither of those things. Maybe it was just her.
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He wondered if she'd mind if he threw her down on the blanket and tore off her clothing. (..) She looked heartbreakingly innocent. Alex sighed. She'd probably mind.
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Tell me something wicked.
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Everyone has secrets. Especially me.
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Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.
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