By Julia Quinn
Nora Roberts calls Julia Quinn’s novels, “Delightful.” the number 1 New York occasions bestselling author of the impossible to resist Bridgerton relatives, Quinn deals old romance readers new delights with A evening Like This—the moment booklet (following the exceptional Just Like Heaven) to add the affairs, romantic and melodic, of the endearing, if painfully untalented, Smythe-Smith musicians. On A evening Like This in Regency England, whatever can take place, particularly while a gorgeous pianist sitting in on the annual Smythe-Smith musicale catches the attention of a haunted, hunted guy in determined want of redemption. there's easily no writer within the realm of ancient romance fiction warmer than the notable Julia Quinn—and an individual who has ever been swept away by way of the affection tales of Amanda fast, Lisa Kleypas, or Jill Barnett will cherish A evening Like This.
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Extra info for A Night Like This (Smythe-Smith Quartet, Book 2)
How can I hate the one person with whom I share all that is worthwhile? Especially because now, ten years after he moved out, so much of the tension is gone. I don’t expect to sleep with him. I don’t want to know with whom he’s sleeping. He never seems to have a real relationship with anyone. He’s never introduced a single one of his women friends to the twins. The twins say Daniel and I get along better with each other than any of their friends’ parents get along, and they’re all still married.
Yeah. ” “Since forever. ” Parents love their children unconditionally, I think. How unfair that children don’t feel the same way about their parents. I can hear their voices even before I put the key in the downstairs gate—and they’re arguing. ” “You fucking fart. You’re totally dead. Dead. ” When they returned from camp, their faces seemed reminted— their jaws longer, their eyes more defined—and their voices imitate new friends. The buzz words are new. “Fucking fart” is a fresh favorite. As is “Gawwwwd,” a new form of “God” that’s spoken with the mouth totally shut.
I’m getting to know them, to like them, to find consistencies between us, to detect differences. To understand how they really feel inside. Some of the questions I ask are quite mundane. I ask them if they sit together in the same room at night, or apart. ) I ask if they like to read, and how many books they own. I ask them where they spent their childhood summers. I discovered years ago that people long to return to their childhood summers. This goes deeper than almost any other question. You’d be surprised how deep.