Debra Johnson

“You veriest varlet.” Ashbury lowered his mangled face to within an inch of Chase’s nose. “This. Is. Nap. Time.” Chase was nonplussed. “What?” The duke rolled aside, resting on his elbow as he worked for breath. “My infant son is currently upstairs, sleeping for the first time in nineteen hours. The only thing keeping me from disemboweling you here in the entrance hall, you cream-faced rooting hog, is that you’d probably wake him with all your sniveling and sobbing for mercy.” “Oh.” Somewhere upstairs, a thin wail pierced the silence. Ashbury closed his eyes. “I hate you.”
― Tessa Dare, The Governess Game

“Lillian offered him a placating smile. “I never thought you would actually betray me that way. I was just afraid that you found her tempting. And I—” “The only thing I find tempting is the idea of taking you to the tack room and applying a saddle strap to your bottom. Repeatedly. With vigor.”
― Lisa Kleypas, A Wallflower Christmas

“Just be careful with my damn dog. That animal gets hurt and you and I are having words.”
― J.R. Ward, Covet

“When Susanna cocked her pistol, the others followed suit. The chorus of clicks raced down Bram’s spine. “I find this scene wildly arousing,” Colin murmured, echoing Bram’s own thoughts. “Is that wrong?” “If it is, I can promise you company in hell.” His cousin made an amused sound. “And you thought we have nothing in common.”
― Tessa Dare, A Night to Surrender