Quote

Francesca: It's still a bit cold yet. Michael: Never stopped John and me. Francesca: Yes, well, you're Scottish. Your blood circulates quite well half frozen.

Julia Quinn

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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Still
Stopped
Wells
John
Well
Cold
Never
Blood
Francesca
Bits
Circulates
Quite
Scottish
Half
Frozen
Stills
Michael

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And I hope you will not think me foolish when I also extend my thanks. Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first. —from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin
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It wasn‟t even desire. It was far more than that. It was love. Love. With a capital L and swirly script and hearts and flowers and whatever else the angels— and yes, all those annoying little cupids—wished to use for embellishment.
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You’re going to be my grandmother.” “You silly child. In my heart, I’ve been your grandmother for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to make it official.
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I just -- I know my own heart and I love you, Turner. And if you have even the tiniest shred of decency, you'll say something because I've said everything I possibly can, and I can't bear the silence, and -- oh for heaven's sake! Will you at least blink? He couldn't even manage that.
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This is why I didn't get married last year, she said to him. I wouldn't be here to nurse you. She thought about that for a moment. Of course, one could make the argument that you wouldn't be in this situation if not for me. But we're not going to dwell upon that.
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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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He gave her his best smile. His best I-almost-died-so-how-can-you-deny-me smile. Or at least that’s how he hoped it appeared. The truth was, he wasn’t a very accomplished flirt, and it might very well have come across as an Iam- mildly-deranged-so-it’s-in-all-of-our-best-interests-if-youpretend- to-agree-with-me smile.
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A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.
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Every unmarried man is looking for a wife. They just don't always know it.
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He sucked his lips in an attempt not to laugh. Aren't you Spanish? She raised one arm in a salute. Viva la Queen Isabella! I see. Then why are you speaking with a French accent?
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Don’t look so upset,” Hyacinth said, once it was just the two of them again. “You’re quite a catch.” He looked at her assessingly. “Is one meant to say such things quite so directly?” She shrugged. “Not to men one is trying to impress.” “Touché, Miss Bridgerton.” She sighed happily. “My three favorite words.” Of that, he had no doubt.
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I'm not a gentle pony... I promise you, you will have to work to keep your seat.
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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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You have to live each hour as if it's your last and each day as if you were immortal. - Kate Sheffield
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Oh, very well, do you want to know why I really think you should keep a journal? She nodded. Because someday you're going to grow into yourself, and you will be as beautiful as you already are smart.
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He didn’t know where the thought had come from, or what strange corner of his brain had come to that conclusion, because he was quite certain it would be nearly impossible to live with her, but somehow he knew that it wouldn’t be at all difficult to love her.
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It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.
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Don't settle. Know what you want and reach for it. And if you don't know what you want, be patient. The answers will come to you in time, and you may find that your heart s desire has been right under your nose all the while.
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Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty. He could picture himself a very happy man at that table. Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we? Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.
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Love is blind,” Harriet quipped. “But not illiterate,” Elizabeth retorted.
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