You have a mother?" He quirked a brow. "Did you think mine was some sort of divine birth? My father was a remarkable man, but even he was not that talented.

I don't like your tone," was Violet's standard answer when one of her children was winning an argument.

A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.

I‟m going to kill her,” Francesca said to no one in particular. Which was probably a good thing, as there was no one else present. “Who are you talking to?” Hyacinth demanded. “God,” Francesca said baldly. “And I do believe I have been given divine leave to murder you.” “Hmmph,” was Hyacinth‟s response. “If it was that easy, I‟d have asked permission to eliminate half the ton years ago.” Francesca decided just then that not all of Hyacinth‟s statements required a rejoinder. In fact, few of them did.

Daphne felt something wild and wicked take hold. “Let’s walk in the garden,” she said softly. “We can’t.” “We must.” “We can’t.

Tell me something wicked.

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