Every unmarried man is looking for a wife. They just don't always know it.

Is there anything else I can do to see to your comfort, Miss Trent?" Perriwick inquired. "She's fine," Blake growled. "Clearly, she--" "Perriwick, isn't the west wing on fire?" Perriwick blinked, sniffed the air, and stared at his employer in dismay. "I do not understand sir.

When the dead body said, "Good evening," Annabel had to face the grim conclusion that it wasn't as dead as she'd hoped.

Colin decided then and there that the female mind was a strange and incomprehensible organ - one which no man should even attempt to understand. There wasn't a woman alive who could go from point A to B without stopping at C, D, X, and 12 along the way.

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Cousin‟s Wife. Moses must have forgotten to write that one down

When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.

And if you say that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I'm disowning all three of you.