18 Quotes by Karen Ranney

Until she'd known him she'd never experienced sorcery. Never known what it was like to feel passion. For the sheer blinding alchemy of that she would be forever grateful. But being with him was oddly more. It was the taste of an orange, the smell of a rose, the touch of the first spring raindrop expanded and multiplied and folded over itself. The meaning, perhaps, of joy.

All my happiness seems caught up in one of your smiles. - Jered Mandeville, 'Upon a Wicked Time

There’s no scandal involved,” she said airily. “I have no connection with you whatsoever. I have nothing to do with you. You are a thimble filled with water next to my ocean. You are a grain of sand to my beach. You are a tiny star in the sky. You’re nothing to me.

You will treat me with respect."He didn't say anything for a moment."What does that mean?" he finally asked.She looked over at him. "Do I need to explain that, your lordship? I would think an earl of your reputed stature would know the meaning of respect.

How very different it would be to live somewhere where people weren't afraid to reveal themselves, where emotion was prized instead of hidden.

The morning sun danced on her hair, transforming the brown to gold and reddish glints. An errant sunbeam angled over her face, dusting her long lashes with light, accentuating the perfection of her nose, her cheekbones, and the beauty of her complexion.

She bit her lips, concentrating, wishing he'd go and sit on one of the chairs before the fireplace. Or stand at the window and watch the full moon. Anything but sit there so close she could smell the sandalwood soap he used.Night had brought a shadow of a beard to his face. He no longer looked every inch the earl, but more a coach robber, someone who would march her out to the glen and kiss her until she fell to her knees.He would show no mercy to her. Instead, he would make her beg.

When the smell of her perfume, something that reminded him of faint spicy blossoms and spring, wasn't wreathed in a cloud around him.Maybe it was magic. Was she one of the creatures from the many Scottish tales his nurse had told him as a child?

My eyes are brown and my hair is brown.""Your eyes are the color of warm chocolate," he said, tilting his head to study her. "Your hair isn't brown, but auburn with gold and red threads in it like the finest tapestry.