She tried to remind herself that beauty was only skin deep, but that didn't offer any helpful excuses when she was berating herself for never knowing what to say to people. There was nothing more depressing than an ugly girl with no personality.

Do I look like a mess?” she asked. He nodded. “But you’re my mess,” he whispered.

And if that weren't bad enough, the next sound he heard was a loud click. The damned woman had locked him out. She'd taken all the food and locked him out. "You'll pay for this!" he yelled at the door. "Do be quiet," came the muffled reply. "I'm eating.

No. Haven’t you been listening?” Marcus would always remember that moment. It was to be the first time he would ever be faced with that most vexing of female quirks: the question that had nothing but wrong answers.

Your heart is free now." "No," he whispered. "It's yours.

Gareth turned to Gregory. “Your sister will be safe with me,” he said. “I give you my vow.” “Oh, I have no worries on that score,” Gregory said with a bland smile. “The real question is—will you be safe with her?” It was a good thing, Gareth later reflected, that Hyacinth had already quit the room to fetch her coat and her maid. She probably would have killed her brother on the spot.

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