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Dimity sighed into her tea. She hated it when men got complicated. They were so very bad at it.
T
Oh, she could climb if she must, but it wasn’t her strong suit. Nevertheless, as certain as fire opals were her favorite jewel (and they absolutely were, so colorful!) Dimity Plumleigh-Teignmott wanted to climb Sir Crispin Bontwee.
Y
“I’m going to stretch now, wife,” he warned her. “Are you indeed, husband?” she responded, oddly breathless. “Are you certain that outfit will accommodate such a trial? It’s rather tight.” “Apparently it’s made for just such an endeavor.” “Praise be to the heavens,” murmured Dimity.
T
Never leave an open bottle near a clergyman, a writer, or an academic. Not if you want it back again.
T
