She took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a long moment. A raindrop moved slowly down her neck; he watched as it turned down the slope of her breast to disappear inside the collar of her shirt. He was seriously contemplating becoming jealous of a droplet of water. Yorkshire was obviously damaging to his sanity.

I do not traditionally speak ill of women, but your governess is a cabbagehead

In fiction, as in real life, love might inspire acts that are at best foolish and at worst life-threatening, but in the best romances, love is the final, secret ingredient that turns mere mortals into heroes and heroines.

I had a perfect life in my reach once, and it was a crashing bore. Perfect is too clean, too easy. I don't want perfect any more than I want to be perfect. I want imperfect.

This new world was already turning her into a cabbagehead, and she'd only been a part of it for an evening

He was struck dumb at the words though he should not be surprised; his wife kept him in a perpetual state of speechlessness.

How could she go on without him? And, at the same time, how could she go on knowing that every moment of their time together had meant so little to him