Shefali S

“I'm asking you to tell Lady Cassandra about my good qualities as well as the bad ones."
"What good qualities?" West inquired sharply.
Tom had to think for a moment. "How rich I am?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“How is Cassandra going to reach the chapel without being drenched?" Tom asked with a groan. "I'm going to tell Trenear and Ravenel to-"
'Let them take care of her for now," Winterborne counseled. "Soon enough she'll belong to you." He paused before adding slyly, "And then you'll be lighting your fire on a new hearth."
Tom gave him a quizzical glance. "She'll be moving into my house."
Winterborne grinned and shook his head. "I meant your wedding night, you spoony half-wit.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“I wonder how many orgasms I could have consecutively before I imploded?” I ask offhandedly, and Siah laughs as he rinses his hair out. “I don’t think I could handle more than four before I shriveled up into nothing. Pretty sure males aren’t meant for multiple back-to-back releases.” “Yeah, that is a lot of magical ball butter to lose in one go,” I agree, and Siah barks out a laugh.”
― Ivy Asher, The Marked and the Broken

“Tom looked at St. Vincent. “I assume the editor at the Chronicle refused to divulge the writer’s identity?”
St. Vincent looked rueful. “Categorically. I’ll have to find a way to pry it out of him without bringing the entire British press to his defense.”
“Yes,” Tom mused, tapping his lower lip with a fingertip, “they tend to be so touchy about protecting their sources.”
“Trenear,” Lord Ripon said through gritted teeth, “will you kindly throw him out?”
“I’ll see myself out,” Tom said casually. He turned as if to leave, and paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Although … as your friend, Trenear, I find it disappointing that you haven’t asked about my day. It makes me feel as if you don’t care.”
Before Devon could respond, Pandora jumped in. “I will,” she volunteered eagerly. “How was your day, Mr. Severin?”
Tom sent her a brief grin. “Busy. After six tedious hours of business negotiations, I paid a call to the chief editor of the London Chronicle.”
St. Vincent lifted his brows. “After I’d already met with him?”
Trying to look repentant, Tom replied, “I know you said not to. But I had a bit of leverage you didn’t.”
“Oh?”
“I told him the paper’s owner would dismiss him and toss him out on the pavement if he didn’t name the anonymous writer.”
St. Vincent stared at him quizzically. “You bluffed?”
“No, that is what the business negotiations were about. I’m the new owner. And while the chief editor happens to be a staunch advocate for freedom of the press, he’s also a staunch supporter of not losing his job.”
“You just bought the London Chronicle,” Devon said slowly, to make certain he hadn’t misheard. “Today.”
“No one could do that in less than a day,” Ripon sneered.
Winterborne smiled slightly. “He could,” he said, with a nod toward Tom.
“I did,” Tom confirmed, picking idly at a bit of lint on his cuff. “All it took was a preliminary purchase agreement and some earnest money.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra