Life was life. It happened. You never knew what was going to come at you. Or how you could defend yourself.

I will never stop writing. People often ask when I will retire, but I say it's none of their business. Writing defines who I am. I love the feeling of holding a finished book in my hands, and then I can't wait to start the great adventure of writing the next one.

At the age of fifty-six Eleanor Stoddard was still a beautiful woman. She owned three hotels in France and another two in England. From nothing at all, she had built an empire. Eleanor had it all. Her one weakness was the young man sleeping beside her.

It's different when the person you love dies. There's an awful finality to death. But it is final. The end. And there's the funeral, family gatherings, grieving, all of those necessary rituals. And they help, believe me. When the object of your love just disappears, there's no way to deal with the grief and pain.

When you are a strong woman, you will attract trouble. When a man feels threatened, there is always trouble.

Life always gets harder towards the summit - the cold increases, responsibility increases

Edwina always enjoyed a morning ride. Some mornings she rode the horse, and some mornings she rode the groom.