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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“But he place a gentle palm under her chin and turned her face back to him. “I'm privileged to see you like this,” he said, his eyes fierce. “Wear you social mask at your balls and parties and when you visit your friends out there, but when we are alone, just the two of us in here, promise me this: that you'll show me only your real face, no matter how ugly you might think it. That's our true intimacy, not sex, but the ability to be ourselves when we are together. (Winter Makepeace)”

Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

Book:Thief of Shadows
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Thief of Shadows

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Author

Elizabeth Hoyt
Elizabeth Hoyt

Elizabeth Hoyt, born in 1970, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won her a large following among readers. more

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“I’m leaving.” Her cold lips barely moved as she mouthed the words. Horror fisted around his vitals. “No.” For the first time she met his eyes. Hers were red-rimmed but dry. “I have to leave,Simon.” “No.” He was a little boy denied a sweet. He felt like falling down and screaming. “Let me go.” “I can’t let you go.” He half laughed here in the too-bright, cold London sun before his own house. “I’ll die if I do.” She closed her eyes. “No, you won’t. I can’t stay and watch you tear yourself apart.” “Lucy.” “Let me go, Simon. Please.” She opened her eyes, and he saw infinite pain in her gaze. Had he done this to his angel? Oh, God. He unclasped his hands.”

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“Sophia looked down her long nose at the girl. “Who are you?” “I’m Abigail, ma’am,” she said, curtsying. “This is my brother, Jamie. I apologize for him.” Sophia arched an eyebrow. “I’ll wager you do that quite a lot.” Abigail sighed, sounding world-weary. “Yes, I do.” “Good girl.” Sophia almost smiled. “Younger brothers can be a chore sometimes, but one must persevere.” “Yes, ma’am,” Abigail said solemnly. “Come on, Jamie,” Alistair said. “Let’s go into dinner before they form a Society for Bossy Older Sisters.”

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“What,” Mick said softly, “is Lad doin’ in me bed?” Hearing his name, Lad opened small, piggish, upside-down eyes, gazing with idiotic adoration as his whip-thin tail thumped the covers. “Ah.” Harry scratched behind one ear. “Well, see, ’e was lookin’ so forlorn, like, out in the courtyard by ’imself. Seemed an awful shame to leave ’im there all alone.” “Off!” Mick roared at the dog. Lad’s transformation was instantaneous. His tiny triangle ears folded back, his eyes narrowed worriedly, and he rolled so that he could crawl toward the edge of the bed on his belly. “Is that mud on his paws?” Mick asked in outrage. Harry glanced at the dog. “I do believe it is,” he said as if making a discovery. “Christ!” Mick watched disgustedly as Lad made the edge of the bed and slithered off, thumping to the floor. The dog seemed to think that his apology was done—or perhaps he’d already forgotten that Mick was mad at him—for he gamboled over as frisky as a lamb. “He’s not even me dog,” Mick muttered. Lad sat, one back leg sprawled out to the side, tongue hanging from his mouth, and grinned up at him. He completely ignored Harry, his supposed master. “The dog ’as a wonderful affection for ye,” Harry said brightly.”

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“Sometimes life offers a pause in its rhythm… a gentle exhale… that invites us to reset. These days become a sanctuary where time slows just enough to remind us what truly matters. It doesn’t take extravagance to feel refreshed… sometimes it’s the quietest moments that restore the most… A restful whisper that reminds us that life is more than deadlines and obligations. Cheers to the quiet days… the little pauses in life. May they become restful days of healing, fun, reflection, and realignment… bridges between where we’ve been and where we’re going. I am so grateful for soul-refreshing days!”

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“She swallowed and licked her lips. “It’s rather good.” He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and no other.”

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“She leaned forward, her gaze so intense that Helen wanted to look away. “And I love him more for it. Do you hear me? He was a good man when he went away to the Colonies. He came back an extraordinary man. So many think that bravery is a single act of valor in a field of battle—no forethought, no contemplation of the consequences. An act over in a second or a minute or two at most. What my brother has done, is doing now, is to live with his burden for years. He knows that he will spend the rest of his life with it. And he soldiers on.” She sat back in her chair, her gaze still locked with Helen’s. “That to my mind is what real bravery is.” -Sophia to Helen about Alistair.”

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“She smiled as she poured tea into his cup. “I hope you find your rooms comfortable?” “Quite.” He took a too-hasty sip of tea and scalded his tongue. “The view is to your liking?” He had a view of a brick wall. “Indeed.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him over the rim of her teacup. “And the bed. Is it soft and… yielding?” He nearly choked on the bite of cake he’d just taken. “Or do you prefer a firmer bed?” she asked sweetly. “One that refuses to yield too soon?” “I think”—he narrowed his eyes at her—“whatever mattress I have on the bed you gave me is perfect. But tell me, my lady, what sort of mattress do you prefer? All soft goose down or one that’s a bit… harder?” It was very fast, but he saw it: Her gaze flashed down to the juncture of his thighs and then up again. If there hadn’t been anything to see there before, there certainly was now. “Oh, I like a nice stiff mattress,” she purred. “Well warmed and ready for a long ride.”

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“And how closely related to you is Cousin Beatrice?” Reynaud gave him a look. “Not that close. “Glad to hear it.” Vale dropped into a cushioned chair. “I hope she recovers fully so that you can then propose to her. Because I tell you now, matrimony truly is a blessed state, enjoyed by all men of good sense and halfway adequate bedroom skills.” “Thank you for that edifying thought,” Reynaud growled. Vale waved his glass. “Think nothing of it. I say, you haven’t forgotten how to treat a lady in the bedroom, have you?” “Oh, for God’s sake!” “You’ve been out of refined society for years and years now. I could give you some pointers, should you need them.”

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