Quotes by Sarah MacLean

Arent we all victims of fate?

What did you do to her?” There were a thousand things he’d

My whole life, you have made decisions for me.Your whole life, Georgiana pointed out, totals nine years.

Well, to be fair, he’s in a situation where intelligence does rather go out the window,” Cross said. “I have a theory that women actually siphon off our cleverness during the courting phase, and keep it for themselves. Which is why they always seem to see the endgame before we do.

What does Éloa mean?”He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.”Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.”“You wouldn’t have.”“Was he a fallen angel?”“She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.”“Tricked her how?”He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.”Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love h

You think I would take a wild lily and trim it to appear an English rose? You shall meet the ton as a bright Italian star.Callie couldnt help but chuckle. Capital. Shall we choose some fabrics?The words sent the cluster of women around them into a flurry, rolling out yards of muslins and satins, jaconet and crepe, velvet and gros de Naples in every imaginable color and pattern.Which do you like? Callie asked.Juliana turned her attention to the pile of fabrics, a bemused smile on her face. Mariana approached and locked their arms together. Leaning close, she said, I adore that mulberry crepe. It would go beautifully with your hair. Turning to Callie she said, And you, sister?Callie cocked her head in the direction of a willow green satin, and said, If you dont leave here with an evening dress in satin, I shall be very disappointed.Juliana laughed. Well, then I shall have to have it! And I do like that rose muslin.Madame Hebert lifted the bolt and passed it to a seamstress. Excellent choice, signorina. May I suggest the gold satin as well? For evening, of course.

But she had dreamed of being his for too long. He had quite ruined her for a marriage of convenience. She wanted everything from him: his mind, his body, his name and, most of all, his heart.

I love your laugh. I want to hear it every day. I want to be through all this darkness and devastation. I want happiness now. I want our due. I want what we’ve deserved from the beginning.” He paused and stared deep into her eyes, willing her to understand how much he loved her. “I want you.

why couldnt someone , somewhere , want her for her ?

Why books?”Her brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”“Why are they your vice?”She set her plate down and wiped her hand on her skirts before reaching for the top volume on a stack of small, leather bound books nearby and extending it to him. “Go on.”He took it. “Now what?”“Smell it.” He tilted his head. She couldn’t help but smile. “Do it.”He lifted it to his nose. Inhaled.“Not like that,” she said. “Really give it a smell.”He raised one brow but did as he was told. “What do you smell?” Sophie asked.“Leather and ink?”She shook her head. “Happiness. That’s what books smells like. Happiness. That’s why I always wanted to have a book shop. What better life than to trade in happiness?

I believe she is Selene, goddess of the moon.She looks so content.You sound surprised.Well, Callie said tentatively, Selene is not the happiest of stories. After all, she is doomed to love a mortal in eternal sleep.St. John turned at her words, obviously impressed. Her own fault. She should have known better than to ask favors of Zeus. That particular course of action never ends well.A truth of which Selene was likely acutely aware upon receiving her favor. I assume that this statue depicts a happy Selene before Zeus meddled.You forget, St. John said, a teasing gleam in his eye, she and Endymion did have twenty children despite his somnolence, so she couldnt have been so very unhappy with her situation.With due respect, my lord, Callie said, bearing and raising twenty children alone does not sound like the happiest of circumstances. I hardly think she would appear so very rested were this a statue depicting her maternal bliss.

But there, in that remarkable room, surrounded by a laughing, rollicking, unseeing collection of Londons brightest and wickedest, Pippas knowledge of anatomy expanded.It seemed there was such a thing as a broken heart.

Men are not nearly as evolved as women are, nor as intelligent, evidently

Let me be clear. Last I was aware you were neither my husband nor my father nor my King. Therefore, any control you may imagine you hold over me is just that- imaginary

I am happy to pay you, she announced. For your services.A harsh, strangled sound cut through the room. It came from him. Pay me.She nodded. Would say, twenty-five pounds do?No.Her brows knit together. Of course, a person of your--prowess--is worth more. I apologize for the offense. Fifty? Im afraid I cant go much higher. Its quite a bit of money.

The best partnerships arent dependent on a mere common goal but on a shared path of equality, desire, and no small amount of passion.

Teenagers are asking, Who am I? and How do I fit in? in every aspect of their lives, and the best YA romances appreciate that there is more to a teens life than finding love.

There is perhaps no more rewarding romance heroine than she who is not expected to find love. The archetype comes in many disguises - the wallflower, the spinster, the governess, the single mom - but always with one sad claim: Love is not in her cards.

“Ive 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. Im still not sure about that.”