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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.
Julia Quinn
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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Night
Smell
Things
Neither
Couldn
Rest
Quite
Chuckle
Maybe
Chuckles
Forget
Perfume
Sound
Soft
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He smiled, and suddenly she knew that his words were true. Everything would be all right. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Tragedy couldn't coexist in a world with one of Colin's smiles.
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She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.
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Mother,” Hyacinth said with a great show of solicitude, “you know I love you dearly—” “Why is it,” Violet pondered, “that I have come to expect nothing good when I hear a sentence beginning in that manner?
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You are not going to waltz in here and distract me with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile. You think my smile is beguiling?
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No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.
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She smelled like England, of soft rain and sun-kissed meadows. And she felt like the best kind of heaven. He wanted to wrap himself around, bury himself within her, and stay there for all of his days. He hadn’t had a drop to drink in three years, but he was intoxicated now, bubbling with a lightness he’d never thought to feel again.
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I had to do something, she said. I couldn't just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.
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It has oft been said that physicians make the worst patients, but it is the opinion of This Author that any man makes a terrible patient. One might say it takes patience to be a patient, and heaven knows, the males of our species lack an abundance of patience.
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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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Blake took a small roll from the tray on the table, then put it back in favor of a larger one. And maybe a little butter. It certainly couldn't hurt. And jam...no, he drew the line at jam. She was a spy, after all.
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In his heart, she’d been smiling for him. But now she was smiling at Colin Bridgerton, he of the famous charm and sparkling green eyes.
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Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book.
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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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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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It's only through sheer force and luck that she's yet to take over the world.
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People will think you're courting me.' 'Nonsense, everyone knows I don't court respectable women.
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But she was already in. Gareth couldn't help but stand back in admiration. Hyacinth Bridgerton was clearly a natural born athlete. Either that or a cat burglar.
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You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.
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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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In three days, he continued, I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means? You'll save me from marauding minotaurs?
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