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Quote by Julianne MacLean

“It was difficult to imagine anyone besting him on the water, or anywhere else for that matter. He was powerful and unstoppable, and from her vantage point, he was the force to be reckoned with. Especially when it came to that infuriatingly stubborn spark of desire in her heart, which simply would not die, no matter how hard or how long she tried to snuff it out.”

Quote by Julianne MacLean

Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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Surrender to a Scoundrel

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Julianne MacLean
Julianne MacLean

Julianne MacLean is a renowned author known for her romantic historical novels. Her works are typically set in 18th and 19th-century England, blending love, history, and adventure elements. more

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“So it seems we both have reputations," he said, "which means that we are similar creatures. Except that you are famous for being virtuous, and I am famous for... Well, quite the opposite." Evelyn tensed. "And I thought you were famous because of all your sailing trophies," she replied. "Foolish me." He smiled again, and it reached his eyes. "You? Foolish? I don't think so." But she felt very foolish at this moment, responding with lavish desire to the sensation of his hot breath on her face and the intoxicating nearness of his body. Heart pounding, she drew in a slow, deep breath, and remembered to whom she was speaking. Martin Langdon. Charmer. Thrill seeker. Heartbreaker. And she was Evelyn Wheaton. Pious churchgoer. Shy mouse. Ugly duckling.”

OppositesEvelyn FosterEvelyn WheatonEvelyn And MartinMartin Langdon
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“I am going to the ball now, Lord Martin. Doubtless my dance card will be full. Do you still wish to reserve a spot?" So much for not being foolish. She should have just let him forget, which he surely would have done as soon as he saw all the other women in the ballroom. He crossed his wrists over the newel post at the top and leaned upon it. "Yes, I would like to reserve a spot. If I may have first choice, I'll take the last dance please." "Well, you had best hope I don't grow tired and leave early." He replied with smooth confidence. "You won't." She pursed her lips. "Don't be so sure." "How can I not be?" he replied. "Because I think you enjoy a good party, Mrs. Wheaton. More than you let on. Or maybe you don't even know it yet. Maybe you've never experienced a night that was truly exhilarating." He was gazing down at her with presumptuous assistance, as if he knew exactly what she was about, and it shook her inwardly, because curse him, he was right. She had experienced very little excitement in her life because she had witnessed the consequences of women who loved exciting men. She'd seen her mother's broken heart over her father's many disgraces with other women, and Penelope's heartbreak over Martin and others after him. Most importantly, she knew about rejection. She had been living with it all her life, since as early as she could remember, beginning with the most painful rejection of all- her father's. And later, her husband's. She knew how much it hurt and had learned to avoid it by never seeking attention. Instead, she was deliberately unapproachable. Her mask of contempt was her shield.”

ExcitementRejectionEvelyn FosterEvelyn WheatonEvelyn And MartinHeartbreaks
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“She remembered what he'd said in the hotel, that life was just a series of moments, and though she still did not agree with the idea that consequences played no part, she gave in to the possibility that there might be some wisdom in what he was trying to show her- that one had to enjoy life day by day and seize opportunities when they presented themselves, because one never knew when it could all end.”

Philosophy Of LifeMoments Of LifeEvelyn FosterEvelyn WheatonEvelyn And Martin
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“With any other woman, he would have touched her cheek at that point and slowly backed her into her room, but she was not any other woman. She was allegedly impossible to flirt with, Sir Lyndon had said. Martin was quite sure he had already proven that claim grossly inaccurate. And after speaking with her on the ship tonight, he was beginning to see the inaccuracy of many other things as well- his own previous impressions of her included. She was not a cold fish. She was simply repressed, with her lid on too tight, and in great danger of boiling over. He wondered why. Did she not want joy? Did she think it wrong?”

RepressedEvelyn FosterEvelyn Wheaton
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“So is that what you love about sailing?" she asked. "It keeps your mind busy and occupied?" He still seemed distracted as he tipped his head up to inspect the mainsail. "I guess that's part of it. I like to get everything working just so in order to get the most out of the boat, and I can't rest until she's moving as fast as she can." Evelyn turned the wheel slightly. "And you tell me I'm the one who needs to relax?" His gaze darted to her profile, then he laughed and shook his head. "I did say we were similar creatures, didn't I? We have that in common, I suppose- we both need some slack in our lines." "Speak for yourself!" she replied, feigning great umbrage. "I like my lines pulled very tight, sir, because with my inconceivable beauty, I have to do something to keep the wicked rakes like you at a safe distance." He stared at her, dumbfounded, then they both gave in to their laughter. She wondered how it was possible they could be having this conversation. Who knew she could be amusing? "You're quite a woman, Evelyn." Then he wagged a warning finger at her. "It's a good thing I didn't know you better back at Eton, or you would have been in considerable trouble.”

Evelyn FosterEvelyn WheatonEvelyn And Martin
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“Then he spotted her. She was sitting in a wicker chair with a lacy parasol over her head, wearing a dark crimson dress and matching hat that brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. She was listening to her companion, Lady Radley, who was gesturing expressively with her hands as she spoke. Evelyn glanced in Martin's direction, and their eyes met. She leaned forward slightly and smiled at him. I was not a broad smile, but it was clever and knowing and faintly teasing, as if she found the obvious spectacle of giddy young girls both entertaining and ridiculous. For a split second, he was immobilized with both relief and adoration. She was not the same woman she had been the other day when he'd first met her on the lawn with Breckenridge and the Radleys. She had been aloof and almost contemptuous that day, but this afternoon she was meeting his gaze directly and nodding with an open, mischievous countenance. She was practically glowing, outshining every other woman in view. All at once, he felt a stirring of emotion from deep inside himself, as if he were looking at a flower that had just opened to the sun.”

Evelyn FosterEvelyn Wheaton
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“Martin eyed the buffet table because he'd slept through dinner and was ravenous; but as luck would have it, who was standing next to the tower of cream cakes but Evelyn- looking equally delicious in a stunning, pale yellow gown of light diaphanous fabric that seemed to flutter around her legs on a nonexistent breeze. And her bosom... Well, she looked delectable with pearls crisscrossing over her lush, alluring breasts.”

Feminine BeautyEvelyn FosterEvelyn Wheaton
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“Evelyn." She recognized the voice immediately, and her body began to hum. Closing her eyes for a brief second to search for calm, she wet her lips and slowly turned. There he was, her hero, looking as handsome as ever in his black-and-white formal attire, his dark, wavy hair curling around his collar in the most appealing way. He was a striking and beautiful man, that had not changed, and she still loved him with every breath of passion in her body. "Hello," she said with a warm smile. "Hello," he replied, making his way closer, hands in pockets while his eyes took in her evening gown of white satin, embroidered in peach lovers' knots, cut daringly low at the neckline. He even glanced down at her shoes of gilt leather with expensive jeweled toecaps. "You look beautiful," he said, and she smiled when she recognized the wonder in his eyes. She had definitely picked the right gown for tonight. He gazed at her appreciatively for another few seconds, then raised his eyebrows and let out a whistle, as if he couldn't quite recover from the sight of her in this dress. It was just the response she had hoped for, and it sent shivers of delight down her spine.”

Feminine BeautyMasculine BeautyEvelyn FosterEvelyn WheatonEvelyn And MartinMartin Langdon
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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“Lord Martin." The voice came to him from behind. He felt a great jolt in his senses. He turned and saw her- Evelyn- looking ravishing in a dark red silk gown and matching mantle. Her hair was swept up into a braided knot on top of her head, and she wore a fashionable black hat tilted forward at a daring angle. He knew then that he really had made a difference in her life, for she was not the aloof young woman she had been in his younger days, nor was she the cool, dignified widow she used to be. She was proud and confident and dazzling in her beauty. He suddenly wished he could sit down, because she was so lovely, he feared his legs might give out beneath him.”

Feminine BeautyEvelyn FosterEvelyn Wheaton
Book:Surrender to a Scoundrel
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