Interesting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.

To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.

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

Anthony looked down at his evil clutches -- hands, he reminded himself, hands -- and grinned anew.

Men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will soon follow. -Lady Whistledown

It wasn‟t even desire. It was far more than that. It was love. Love. With a capital L and swirly script and hearts and flowers and whatever else the angels— and yes, all those annoying little cupids—wished to use for embellishment.

You have to live each hour as if it's your last and each day as if you were immortal. - Kate Sheffield