“Nicholas broke the seal and scanned the contents. He looked up at Marcus with a chuckle. “Why, it appears you may get your wish for perpetual bachelorhood after all. She wants to end your engagement.”Marcus started from his chair. “The hell she does! What’s possessed her?”“Perhaps she realizes your extreme reluctance to tie the knot after waiting…what is it? Five years since your betrothal announcement?”“Six,” Marcus snapped. “But who’s counting.”“Perhaps Miss Trent?” Nick needled with a quirk of his lips.- A BREACH OF PROMISE”

“She tied you to the kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the "hallelujah”

“Marcus stood at the mantel mirror, fussing with his lace cuffs, adjusting his cravat and openly admiring his reflection. “I’ll beguile her with the full power of my persuasive charm.”“And should that fail?”Marcus turned to his secretary with a slow, devious grin. “Why, Nick, I’d have thought it obvious. I’ll just have to ruin her.”-A BREACH OF PROMISE”

“Hallelujah" "Your faith was strong but you needed proof.You saw her bathing on the roof.Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.She tied you to a kitchen chair,she broke your throne, and she cut your hair.And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah....”

“Tell me everything about this woman you once knew. Tell me everything she ever told you about Jesus of Nazareth." Marcus saw the fever in his eyes. "Why?" he said, frowning. "Why does it matter?""Just tell me, Marcus Lucianus Valerian. Tell me everything. From the beginning. Let me decide for myself what matters."And so Marcus did as he was asked. He gave in to his deep need to speak of Hadassah. And all the while he talked of her, he failed to see the irony in what he was doing. For as he told the story of a simple Judean slave girl, Marcus Lucianus Valerian, a Roman who didn't believe in anything, proclaimed the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

“She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.”