Quotes from Julie Anne Long

No, Lord Waterburn threatened to shoot us for singing." Waterburn had no patience for such whimsy. "I did no such thing," he said flatly. "I might have done, however," the marquess teased. "Depending upon the song.

Love is like a loaded musket," he mused. "And yet it's available to everyone. It's always . . ." He mimed thrusting out a gun. "'Here you are! Try not to kill yourself or others with it.' They oughtn't allow young people near it.

Rebecca stared back at him, still dazed. She'd forgotten how to speak; it seemed an unimportant skill, anyhow, when such kisses were to be had, when a whole world could be made from a kiss.

He wished for access to all the world's languages at once, for then he would have a better word for how he felt and what she was.

It's . . . Titian, Genevieve breathed. I'm sure of it. A slow, awestruck, disbelieving smile took over her face. Stunned pleasure shone from her eyes. And he was certain her heart was racing with the sheer delight of being in the presence of the thing. Because his heart was racing at simply watching her love it.

The line of Miss Eversea's spine seemed positively 'alive' with... something. Outrage? Horror? Hilarity? He noticed the very fine line of hair traveling up the fragile nape of her neck, and something about that intimate little trail made the back of his own neck tingle as though she'd brushed her fingers there. Something entirely unexpected was happening in the region of his solar plexus.

All his reckless, whimsical, sensual testing of the world throughout the years had been a search for what he knew with her. Passion and peace. Laughter and combat and friendship. God, but he loved her. It was an immensely humbling, enormous, radiant thing.

How had it never occurred to him the peril in which women walked every day, even the most pampered of them? How valiant the simple act of being a woman was in so many ways.

She most definitely had an instinct for passion, an instinct that matched his own, that had nearly caused him to lose his head. Well, now he knew her skin was petal smooth; he knew the rich wine of her mouth; he knew the feel of that delicate, puckered nipple rubbed against his cheek---

We did everything we could to save him, to defend him and still we knew he was going to die. One never feels more like speck upon the breast of the universe in those moments.

She charmed and sparkled and said witty things, but she knew very well she was being charming and sparkling and witty while she was doing it, which somehow felt wrong.

You wagered you could indulge passion and receive trust and honor in return, and lost.

Colin could not recall a single woman ever regarding him with anything so neutral as detachment. It suddenly seemed important to ascertain whether she was pretty, in the same way it was necessary to know whether a man was armed.

talking to him this morning had been like taking that first bite of an orange. That first sip of black, black coffee. He listened as though she mattered precisely as much as he did. How disorienting this quality was to encounter in a man.

when one loved, one cherished. One protected.

The duke was sitting silently in the corner, long legs casually outstretched, arms loosely crossed over him, surveying the room with ironic eyes. They lingered on her; he gave her the faintest of smiles. It was almost impossible to believe that this was the man who had said to her 'I want you naked beneath me.' Apart from the rush of blood to various places in her body when she thought it, she could almost imagine it hadn't happened at all.

Perhaps men like the Everseas were commonplace here in England. Perhaps finding a beautiful titled husband would be as simple as shaking an apple from a tree.

If he'd been able to imagine it, perhaps he could have saved himself from what was to come. A grief that would reshape his life the way a tsunami reshaped a coastline.

All of my books are made of sweat, blood, laughter, cat hair, chocolate and inspiration.

Delilah had been transferred from her father's household to her husband's like crated porcelain.

sex always changed things between people, a bit the way an earthquake shifts a landscape.

Her heart was walloping away in her throat, and she was certain he could feel it, as his fingers lingered there. Nearly everything on her body that could stand erect was erect now, clamoring for his touch. The hair on the back of her neck, her arms. Her nipples. Are you afraid, Genevieve? No. You do enjoy saying my name. It has a lilt. I see. Her voice was faint. Because you should consider being a little afraid.

Lovely as a spring day but not the sort to make one envious, any more than one would envy the sun its ability to shine.

It was a fine hat. Had a plume... Made her eyes so green... Very good color---green, Bullton agreed wistfully. Particularly for eyes, Kit mused. But I'm partial to hazel. Hazel is green with blue and bits of gold in it, he explained to Bullton. Are you, sir? Are you really partial to hazel? Bullton solemnly wanted to know. Very, very partial, Kit said dreamily.