She surrounded herself with books at work and at home. Her living space was a testament to her first and abiding love with shelves jammed with books tables crowded with them. She saw them not only as knowledge entertainment comfort even sanity but as a kind of artful decoration.
Aren’t most romance heros, or heros in fiction of any kind, generally superior to real men? Same goes for heroines and real women.
He gave her a quick, casual kiss on the cheek first. Then came the hug, and it was the hug that always made Laurel’s heart mush. Serious grip, cheek to the hair, eyes closed, just a little sway. Del’s hugs mattered, she thought, and made him impossible to resist.
Laurel: I don’t need a ring or a license, or a spetacular white dress. It’s not marriage so much, or at all really, that matters. It’s the promise. It’s the knowing someone wants me to be part of his life. Someone loves me, that I’m the one for him. That’s not just enough, it’s everything.
She was tough in the best sense of the word. She’d taken blows, the disappointments, and had worked her way through them. Some people, he knew, would have buckled under, found a clutch, or given up. But she had carved a place for herself and made it work.
Why couldn’t the merciful God turn down the sunlight so it wasn’t blasting like a red furnace against his aching eyes? Because he’d worshipped the god of beer, thats why. He’d broken a commandment and worshipped the false and foamy god of beer. And now he was being punished.
What if there’s a fire?” Glenna said sweetly, and Cian merely smiled. “Then I guess you’d better open a window, and fly.
Not enough.” Margo rose and tucked the towel in place. ” Come on, let’s go stuff her in a locker. For old time’s sake.
I want you more than I should,” she heard herself say. “I have you less than I want.
Why do I find it irresistible when you tell me to go to hell so politely?
Life – you have to live it as it comes.