She had wanted more than she could have. She had wanted him, and more... she had wanted him to want her. In the name of something bigger than tradition, bolder than reputation, more important than a silly title.

I've loved him for a decade. And I had him for one day before I made a complete and utter mess of things. Or he did. I'm still not sure about that.

You must be mistaken," Isabel said, unconcerned by the insult that the words carried. "I assure you i am not. Voluptas is nearly always portrayed wrapped in roses. If that were not enough, her faces confirms her identity." "You cannot tell a goddess from a face carved in marble," she scoffed. "You can tell Voluptas by her face." "I've never even heard of this goddess, and you know what she looks like?" "She is the goddess of sensual pleasure." Isabel's mouth fell open at the words. She could not think of a single thing to say in response. "Oh

Yes, she was a scandal. Her brother simply didn’t know it. “I fell in the Serpentine today.” “Yes, well, that doesn’t usually happen to women in London. But it’s not so much of a scandal as it is a challenge.

It didn’t matter the quality of the writing— Callie’s fantasies about her fictional heroes were entirely democratic.

Colleen McCullough taught me that desire is the heart of romance.

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