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Nothing like trapping the gentlemen where they couldn't get away.

Julia Quinn

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Julia Quinn
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 12
Author
Writer
Evergreen State
Julie Cotler
Julie Pottinger
Nothing
Like
Trapping
Gentlemen
Gentleman
Couldn
Away

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It suddenly made sense. Only twice in his life had he felt this inexplicable, almost mystical attraction to a woman. He’d thought it remarkable, to have found two, when in his heart he’d always believed there was only one perfect woman out there for him. His heart had been right. There was only one.
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Oh, Elizabeth, he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, I love you so much. You must believe me. I believe you, she said softly, because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.
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There were only so many ways a man‟s heart could break, and he had a feeling his couldn‟t survive another puncture.
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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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I'm not a gentle pony... I promise you, you will have to work to keep your seat.
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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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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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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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Reformed rakes make the best husbands,Violet said. Rubbish and you know it. -Anthony to Violet
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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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Most fiction series are written so that the reader can come in at any point and not feel lost, but if you can start at the beginning, why not?
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The only words I'll allow from your mouth are, 'Oh, Gareth,' and 'Yes, Gareth.' What about 'More, Gareth'? He almost kept a straith face. That will be acceptable.
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It’s a curse, really,” Lady Danbury said. “I’m the only person I know my age who has perfect hearing.” “Most would call that a blessing.” She snorted. “Not with that musicale looming over the horizon.
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Rehearsels, actually. Rehearsals? For the- Oh,no. -musicale. The Smythe-Smith musical.It finished off what the Crusades had begun.There wasn't a man alive who could maintain a romantic thought when faced with the memory-or the threat-of a Smythe-Smith musicale.
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As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. Don't, he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, I'll be your blanket.
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...I do not tell you often enough, dear Mother, how very grateful I am that I am yours. It is a rare parent who would offer a child such latitude and understanding. It is an even rarer one who calls a daughter friend. I do love you, dear Mama.
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Anthony sneezed and pushed them aside. Mother, I am trying to have a conversation with the duke. Violet looked at Simon. Do you want to have this conversation with my son? Not particularly. Fine, then. Anthony, be quiet.
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Interesting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.
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Love works in mysterious ways.
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I shall have one, too, he told her. So that you don't feel alone. She tried not to smile. That is most generous of you. I am quite certain it is my gentlemanly duty. To eat cake? It is one of the more appealing of my gentlemanly duties, he allowed.
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