I can't imagine a romance novel published today where the hero rapes the heroine and she falls in love with him.

He was a puzzle. And Hyacinth hated puzzles. Well, no, in truth she loved them. Provided, of course, that she solved them.

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

You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.

Everyone has secrets. Especially me.

If he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.

Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book.

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

There was a huge difference between dislike and disregard.

A duel, a duel, a duel. Is there anything more exciting, more romantic ... or more utterly moronic?

No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.

I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.

I don't know whether to toss you through that window or shake your hand and say 'Well done'" Henry said in a tired voice.

I vow to spend the rest of my life keeping your hands and feet warm.

People will think you're courting me.' 'Nonsense, everyone knows I don't court respectable women.

She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.

It was one of those things that had to be experienced to be understood

But looking beautiful isn't, I think, as important as feeling beautiful.