Elizabeth Hoyt Quotes
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You have to be very clear with yourself about how you're going to spend your time. When a child is at school or napping, you need to realize that this is your writing time and you don't spend it surfing the Internet or reading.
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A smile flickered across Coral’s face. “Have you ever noticed that once you have had a taste of certain sweets—raspberry trifle is my own despair—it is quite impossible not to think, not to want, not to crave until you have taken another bite?” “Lord Swartingham is not a raspberry trifle.” “No, more of a dark chocolate mousse, I should think,” Coral murmured. “And,” Anna continued as if she hadn’t heard the interruption, “I don’t need another bite, uh,night of him.
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A garden always has a point.
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But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.
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It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul.
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Shhh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out. I cannot deny that I would've liked to have made babies with you. A little girl with your hair and eyes would've been the delight of my life. But it is you that I want primarily, not mythical children. I can survive the loss of something I've never had. I cannot survive losing you.
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All her life she'd been warned that men were slaves to their desires, that they held their impulses in barely controlled check. A woman--a lady--must be very, very careful of her actions so she did not put spark to the gunpowder that was a man's libido.
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Dear God. She ached, wanting something that she knew was a sin. Wanting a man who was sin itself.
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Rebecca held her head high and swanned across the hallway, but as she neared the footman, she could see quite plainly that his gaze was not where it should be. She stopped dead and slapped her hands over her bosom. "Its too low, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have listened to that maid. She might not mind her boobies hanging out for all to see, but i just can't-" Her brain suddenly caught up with her mouth. She removed her hands from her bosom and slapped them over her awful, awful, awful mouth.
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I decided long ago that my family absolutely comes first, and I don't regret that. I do, however, sometimes wish I had an extra five hours or so in the day!
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Just because I don't deserve her doesn't mean I won't fight to keep her.
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Shh,” he whispered. “You asked me if I loved you. I do. I love you more than life itself. Nothing matters in this world but that you live. Can you do that for me? Can you live?
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Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else.
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This is my social face,” he said lightly. “Don’t confuse it with the animal beneath.
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I write both at home and at coffee shops, and I have a terrible work ethic - I have a tendency to write most of my books right before the deadline. I'm trying to work on that, but so far, I'm not getting any more organized.
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Do you think 'Duke' is a good name?' she asked. His face blanked for a second before it cleared. He glanced at the dog in consideration. 'I don't think so. He would outrank me.
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Will ye come with me?” he whispered. And she answered without hesitation. “Yes, please.
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... You are the closest I will ever come to heaven, either here on Earth or in the afterlife, and I will not regret it, not even at the cost of your tears. So I go to my grave an unrepentant sinner, I’m afraid. There is no use in mourning one such as I, dearest... -Simon to Lucy in a letter before the last duel.
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He grunted and stirred, withdrawing from her. She only had a moment to be disappointed and then he flipped her to her back and rose over her, powerful and male. He casually parted her legs with his knees and thrust into her again, hot and hard. She gasped at the swift invasion, the lovely feeling, and then his face was next to hers, his big palms cradling her cheeks. “What I want,” he drawled, “is ye. Nothin’ else.
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Your cousin might be a pretty face, but you, my darling, courageous, maddening, seductive, mysterious, wonderful Diana, you are the Duchess of Wakefield. My duchess.
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He watched her retreat, his eyes lazy, and his body unmoving. A trickle of blood seeped slowly from the corner of his mouth. He let her get nearly out of the room before he spoke, “I may not have the right, Silence, me love,” he drawled so soft she nearly didn’t catch the words. “But I would’ve listened to ye. I would’ve believed ye.
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Shhh,” he murmured against her mouth. “Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just feel.
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He grinned, though his face was strained. “That’s it, love. Use me to make yerself feel good.
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If I'm good enough to bed, surely I'm good enough to wed.