“Then claim it my pretty knight," she whispered- weeping with joy. "Claim your prize...claim me as your token of favour...for I have ever been yours, Broderick.”

“First you term me pretty...and then dub me terrifying in the next breath," he said. "I do not know what to make of it." "Make of it that you are...pretty terrifying, Sir Broderick Dougray," Monet said, smiling at the warmth of his breath in her hair.”

“Sometimes just the tiniest allocation of time spent with a friend, imprints on your mind and gives you something to smile about for the rest of the week, month, or your life!”

“Let's see---a prince defending your honor with his vast vocabulary and political competency---okay, maybe. But a rogue defending you with fists and bladed weaponry? No contest there!”

“The trick is finding a person whose flaws don't drive you crazy...you know...someone whose flaws you can live with...someone who can stand your flaws, too.”

“You've been quiet for awhile. What are you thinking about?" he asked, grinning at her."I was wondering if maybe you're a serial killer.”

“People like to think the worst. They like to have hushed gossip sessions and point their fingers at someone's problems that are more obvious than their own.”