Quotes from Lisa Kleypas

This club's no place for you, tibby," he had told her with gruff fondness. "You has to stay away from a milling cove like me, and find some rum cull to marry." "Papa," she had begged, stammering desperately, "d-don't send me back there. Pl-please, please let me stay with you." "Little tangle-tongue, you belong with the Maybricks. And no use to hop the twig and run back here. I'll only send you off again.

You'd be surprised what people say across the manicure table.

You have terrible judgment. You're in bed with the last man in the world you should trust, and you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life." "Is this your idea of seductive banter?" "I thought I should give you one last warning. Now you're doomed.

You believe yourself to be in love with her." "No," Hunt countered in a relaxed manner, "I am in love with her.

He's a man, dear,' Amelia explained kindly. 'Sustained thinking is very difficult for them.' 'As opposed to women,' Leo retorted, 'who have the remarkable ability to make decisions without doing any thinking at all.

It was Evie, Lady St. Vincent, her red hair arranged in in a loose chignon. "I've been looking for you," she said. "We haven't seen you for days,"Lillian said. "Where have you been?" Evie's color deepened. "With St. Vincent." "What have you been... Oh, good God. Never mind.

Before they even reached the front door, it opened and a small, silver-gray terrier came bounding out. He stopped a few yards away from Merritt and growled. "Hello, Wallace," she said with a faint smile, and stood still as he came to her. The terrier circled around her, sniffing at her skirts. In a moment he gazed up at her with bright eyes and a wagging tail, and let her pet him. "What a handsome boy you are," she exclaimed, smoothing his fur.

No, Redbird," her father had replied, his mouth twitching at the corners. "That's why I married your mother—she's kind enough for two people." "Mother," Gabriel had asked hopefully, "could you be kind enough for three people?

Life can be understood only by looking back, but has to be lived forwardly.

You fascinate me in every way," Harry whispered, his hand playing gently in her hair. "There are mysteries in your soul that will take a lifetime to uncover . . . and I want to know every one of them.

Romany Gypsies—the Rom, they call themselves—are a nomadic people. They dislike staying under one roof too long. It makes them feel imprisoned

She's not a lunatic," Daisy told her sister. "She's a New Yorker.

I see I'll have to use all my arts to bring out your talkative side." "I don't have a talkative side." "It is a guest's responsibility to be entertaining," she informed him. "Oh, I'll entertain you," he murmured. "I just won't talk while I'm doing it.

I wonder," he said to Merripen, "what Hunt knows about Harrow? Do you know him well enough to ask?" "Yes," Merripen said. "But even if I didn't, I wouldn't leave this place until I made him tell me." That made Leo chuckle. "You may be the only one in this entire mansion who would dare try to 'make' Simon Hunt do anything. He's a bloody big bastard." "So am I," came Merripen's grim reply.

He undressed before her, dropping his shirt to reveal a tautly muscled torso and a chest covered with with black hair. His big-framed body was clearly built for power rather than elegance. Yet there was something innately graceful about the long lines of muscle and sinew, and the heavy breadth of his shoulders. He was a man who made a woman feel safe, and at the same time, deliciously overpowered.

A sad statement of a man's life, that the world should have been so improved by his absence.

His two-month search for Charlotte had led him to Hampshire, a place of heather-carpeted hills, ancient hunting forests, and treacherous valley bogs. The western country was prosperous, its twenty market towns abundantly filled with wool, timber, dairy products, honey, and bacon. Among the Hampshire's renowned estates, Stony Cross Park was considered to be the finest. The manor house and private lake were situated in the fertile Itchen River valley.

Some of her fear must have shone through her effort to maintain a reassuring facade, for her father took one of her hands and exerted a feeble tug to bring her closer to him. "Evie," came his faint whisper, "I'm going to your mother, y'see… she's got 'em to leave a back door open… so I can steal into 'eaven." She laughed quietly even as a few hot tears spilled from her eyes.

Never try to turn back on a new road – you don't know what adventures await you.

It was hardly a surprise to find St. Vincent here, since his family owned the club, and his maternal grandfather had been Ivo Jenner himself. In recent years, St. Vincent had taken over the management of the club from his father. By all accounts, he was doing an excellent job of it, with his customary cool and relaxed aplomb.

Despite my deep and abiding affection for your parents, I'd rather not be overrun by Marsdens for the time being." "Neither would I," Merritt assured him. "Papa would ask a great many questions I have no wish to answer, and Mama... well, as you know, she's as subtle as a marauding Viking." The duke laughed softly. "In the interest of self-preservation, I'll withhold comment.

Cam leaned over the bedside, clasping Jenner's hands in his just as Evie had done. "Father of my heart," the young Gypsy said softly, "be at peace with every soul you leave behind. And know that God will open your way in the new life.

Swallowing back her bitterness, Amelia glanced up at her brother and managed a rueful smile. "Thank you, but at this advanced stage of life, I have no ambitions to marry." Leo surprised her by bending to brush a light kiss on her forehead. His voice was soft and kind. "Be that as it may, I think someday you'll meet a man worth giving up your independence for." He grinned before adding, "Despite your encroaching old age.

Lady Helen, who had been accompanied by her husband, Mr. Rhys Winterborne, was far more reserved than the twins. Instead of Pandora's raw and radiant energy, or Cassandra's effervescent charm, she possessed a quality of sweet, patient gravity. With her silver-blonde hair and willowy slenderness, Helen seemed as ethereal as a figure form from a painting by Bougereau.