Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers, #1)

by Lisa Kleypas

There was no making polite conversation with a man who always said exactly what he thought, no matter how unflattering or objectionable his opinions.

“Mr. Hunt, you sound like the villain in a very bad play.”

“I should think we can all agree to something without having to open a vein over it.”

“As long as he’s firm in the pocketbook, he can be droopy everywhere else,”

I am coming to believe that there are two kinds of people . . . those who choose to be masters of their own fate and those who wait in chairs while others dance. I would rather be one of the former than the latter.

Fuck yeah

“I don’t bother with a higher intellect. I’ve done quite well with just my lower one.”

“Shall I woo you with whispers of balance transfers and rates of interest, then?”

“Heaven forbid that we should spend an evening with people who are not exactly the same as ourselves. We might learn something. Or worse, we might even enjoy it . . . oh, the shame!”

“I wouldn’t be able to saw off just anyone’s leg, you know.”