No Man Of Any Intelligence Would Pretend

I Knew Nothing But Love And Devotion When I Was Growing Up. Trust Me, It Makes Everything Easier.

I Keep Waiting For The Day In Which Everyone Who Loves Downton Abbey Will Realize They Were Actually Watching A Historical Romance Novel.

To Call That Writing, Madam, Is An Insult To Quills And Ink Across The World.

She Smelled Like England, Of Soft Rain And Sun-kissed Meadows. And She Felt Like The Best Kind Of Heaven. He Wanted To Wrap Himself Around, Bury Himself Within Her, And Stay There For All Of His Days. He Hadn’t Had A Drop To Drink In Three Years, But He Was Intoxicated Now, Bubbling With A Lightness He’d Never Thought To Feel Again.

Everyone Has Secrets. Especially Me.