Wow! First vampires. Then gods. Now…vampire—gods? What’s next? Werewolves? Smurfs? Were-Smurfs?
Mimi Jean PamfiloffMots clés helena
Oh. Come on! I left my backpack on the bus.” According to Darwin, you’re a prime candidate for extinction. Too stupid to live!
Mimi Jean PamfiloffMots clés helena
Oh God, now she couldn’t remember why she’d ever left him. She needed him. More than air or sunlight and beaches, definitely more than garlic.
Mimi Jean PamfiloffYou do not mean that, my sweet. I know you are lying.” Yes. Maybe. Crap! I don’t…“No".
Mimi Jean PamfiloffAndrus turned the engine and gave her a suspicious look. “You smell like...” He shifted into drive. “What?” “Nothing, but—did something happen inside?” Could he really smell…that? He crinkled his nose. “Your face is red and your scent is…” Oh, God. He can! Kill me now! Giant bomb, falling tree, spontaneous combustion…anything!
Mimi Jean PamfiloffYes, a proud, proud moment in my life. If only that could go on my Facebook timeline!
Mimi Jean PamfiloffMots clés helena
Hastings sat down and braced his arm along the back of the chaise, quite effectively letting it be known he did not want anyone else to join them.
“You look frustrated, Miss Fitzhugh.” He lowered his voice. “Has your bed been empty of late?”
He knew very well she’d been watched more closely than prices on the stock exchange. She couldn’t smuggle a hamster into her bed, let alone a man.
“You look anemic, Hastings,” she said. “Have you been leaving the belles of England breathlessly unsatisfied again?”
He grinned. “Ah, so you know what it is like to be breathlessly unsatisfied. I expected as little from Andrew Martin.”
Her tone was pointed. “As little as you expect from yourself, no doubt.”
He sighed exaggeratedly. “Miss Fitzhugh, you disparage me so, when I’ve only ever sung your praises.”
“Well, we all do what we must,” she said with sweet venom.
He didn’t reply—not in words, at least.
Mots clés sherry-thomas helena hastings ravishing-the-heiress
Do you think I should be paying my addresses to Mrs. Martin, my dear Miss Fitzhugh?” he whispered. “Martin doesn’t
look the sort to have enough stamina to service two women.
And goodness knows you could probably exhaust Casanova himself.”
Again this insinuation that she must be a sufferer of nymphomania. Behind her fan, she put her lips very close to his ear. “You’ve no idea, my Lord Hastings, the heated yearnings
that singe me at night, when I cannot have a man. My skin burns to be touched, my lips kissed, and my entire body passionately fondled.”
Hastings was mute, for once. He stared at her with something halfway between amusement and arousal.
She snapped shut her fan and rapped his fingers as hard as she could, watching with great satisfaction as he choked back a
yelp of pain.
“By anyone but you,” she said, and turned on her heels.
Mots clés sherry-thomas helena beguiling-the-beauty hastings
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world:
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is here to look on me?
Mots clés helena
She fluttered her fan. “And do you know what they say of women of a certain age, what they want above all?”
Desire simmered in him at her not quite smile. “Do tell.”
“To be rid of you, Hastings. So that they don’t have to waste what remains of their precious few years suffering your lecherous looks.”
“If I stopped looking at you lecherously, you’d miss it.”
“Why don’t we test that hypothesis? You stop and I’ll tell you after ten years or so whether I miss it.”
....
He rose and bowed slightly. “You wouldn’t last two weeks, Miss Fitzhugh.
Mots clés david sherry-thomas helena tempting-the-bride
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