“A very different sort of prayer—most certainly not for the sick and dying—rose within him as his gaze remained fixed on the delicate wisp of hair curling at her nape, just underneath her ear. Chestnut brown with auburn tints, in… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“I run. At least five miles a day.” When he saw her look of appreciation, he felt compelled to add, “Usually more.” — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“There are a million ways a man can become a Mr. Darcy.” “True.” “But it takes an Elizabeth Bennet to see them.” — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“Dearest? Are you awake?” I could feel her drawing near me, sitting up in the bed to peer over my shoulder. I continued my… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“You don’t think that literature can be a reflection of real life?” “Sure it can. But, like I said, Mr. Darcy isn’t a reflection… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“wanted her and no force on Earth could stop my craving! When, at last, we parted slightly, I took no more than a moment… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“A very different sort of prayer—most certainly not for the sick and dying—rose within him as his gaze remained fixed on the delicate wisp… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“You might find Fitzwilliam Darcy in disguise, including his imperfections, as numerous other literary paragons and film icons such as Gilbert Blythe, John Thornton,… — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“A vision of a breathlessly satiated Elizabeth in my bed—her tussled tresses, flushed skin—invaded my brain.” — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
“She carried a bouquet of borage and dahlias in her hands. For courage and dignity?” — Christina Boyd Copy Share Image
