It was a constant source of amazement to Alexia that the only thing she had ever done in her entire life that pleased her mama was marry a werewolf.

Biffy didn't like enigmas - they were out of fashion.

Alexia had found pregnancy relatively manageable, up to a point. That point having been some three weeks ago, at which juncture her natural reserves of control gave way to sentimentality. Only yesterday she had ended breakfast sobbing over the fried eggs because they looked at her funny. The pack had spent a good half hour trying to find a way to pacify her. Her husband was so worried he looked to start crying himself.

Rail is such an undignified way to travel. All that rapid racing about. Floating has so much more gravitas.

...Tunstell was not what one could describe as call subtle. His flaming red hair bobbed up with each pointed and articulated footstep as though he were some cloaked Gothic villain creeping across a stage.

Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.

These feelings you engender in me, my lord, are most indelicate. You should stop causing them immediately.