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Jesus. Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene. Delilah, Jezebel, Salome, Judith, Eve. Trouble, every last one. Add Minerva Highwood to the list.

Tessa Dare

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Tessa Dare
Last
Salome
Jesus
Minerva
Christ
Mary
Every
List
Lists
Delilah
Add
Magdalene
Trouble
Jezebel
Lasts
Judith

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So there’s an . . . an etiquette to raking. Some seducer’s code of honor. Is this what you’re telling me?
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What on earth are you wearing? Did you take orders in a convent since we spoke last? Little Sisters of the Drab and Homely.
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You’re a terrible cook. That I’ll grant you. You can’t hold your liquor, either. And you have questionable taste in men. So no, you’re not perfect.” His voice sank to a husky whisper, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “But you’re close. Close enough to restore a man’s faith in miracles.
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He had to feel those lips on him again. Had. To. This wasn’t a mild expression of preference. This was an imperative. His body was insistent. To continue his existence on this earth, he now needed the following: food, water, shelter, clothing, and Minerva Highwood’s lips.
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Oh no. Oh God. I couldn't possibly be so stupid. Don't limit yourself. You can be anything you wish.
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What is the world coming to, with these modern women? A man can't tell them what to do.
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I know how mirrors work. They're all in league with the cosmetics trade. They tell a woman lies. Drawing her gaze from one imagined flaw to another, until all she sees is a constellation of imperfections. If you could get outside yourself, borrow my eyes for just an instant... There is only beauty.
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He was right. They could have a whole conversation without exchanging a word. And the conversation they had right now went like this: Colin, shut it. I don’t think I will, M. Then I’ll make you. Really? How?I’m not certain, but it will be slow and painful. And I won’t leave any evidence.
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Cleverness is like rouge - liberal application makes a woman look common and desperate. Wit is knowing how to apply it.
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I don’t know. What do people see when they gaze at the sky? Inspiration? Beauty?” She heard him sigh. “Truth be told, this view always intimidated me. The sky’s so vast. I can’t help but feel it has expectations of me. Ones I’m already failing.” He was silent for a long moment. “It reminds me of your eyes.
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So odd. Most women of his acquaintance relied on physical beauty and charm to mask their less-pleasant traits. This girl did the opposite, hiding everything interesting about herself behind a prim, plain facade. What other surprises was she concealing?
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Forgive me, Your Grace. Are you suggesting a woman is some sort of … piece of fruit to you? One squeeze, and you know if she’s ripe?
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This is true valor, I hope you know. Legends have sprung from less. All Lancelot did was paddle about in a balmy lake.” She smiled. “Lancelot was a knight. You’re a viscount. The bar is higher.
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Dedication: For librarians and booksellers everywhere, who gather books and build shelters for tender souls.
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One more minute of this, and she’d be a certifiable simpleton.
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Amazing, then, how with that one remark, he made a mortifying situation thirteen times worse.
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Men never hesitated to declare their presence. They were permitted to live aloud, in reverberating thuds and clunks, while ladies were always schooled to abide in hushed whispers.
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Her,” he said. “I’ll take her.
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You are a sweet man. -God, there it is. He flopped back on the bed, as if shot through the heart. Repeat that to anyone, and I will have you brought up on charges of slander. I wouldn't dream of telling a soul.
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A home isn’t only defined by what you need, Bram. It’s also about the people who need you
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