In his heart, she’d been smiling for him. But now she was smiling at Colin Bridgerton, he of the famous charm and sparkling green eyes.

It was the one dream he'd never permitted himself to consider.

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

In this room,in this minite,she was his everything

In his heart, she’d been smiling for him. But now she was smiling at Colin Bridgerton, he of the famous charm and sparkling green eyes.

You are always looking at people like this.” And then she made a face, one he couldn’t possibly begin to describe. “If I ever look like that,” he said dryly, “precisely like that, to be more precise, I give you leave to shoot me.

Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.