The real question is, can you love the real me? Not the perfect person you want me to be, not that image you had of me, but who I really am.

It's Mari, Jack," Ken whispered, needing to say it aloud. "What?" Jack jerked around, staring at the sniper as the eyes fluttered closed. "Are you certain?" Ken pulled the woman's belt loose and buckled it around her leg. "Either that or your wife is playing sniper for the other team. It has to be Mari. She looks exactly like Briony.

If I had a sense of humor, I'd be laughing right now.

She was crawling out from under the huge tour bus when he first caught sight of her. She was small, like a child.

And of course I'm a chauvinist, but it isn't my fault." "It isn't?" "No, Jack was born first and I share his genes. I can't help it if he infected me inside the womb." Briony burst out laughing. "I should have known that would be your excuse.

I write for the love of writing. If I never published another book, I would still be writing stories.

I look at you, and I see the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. Inside and out you are beautiful. I know you better than anyone else could ever know you, because I can see into your thoughts and read your memories. The very light in you, our tremendous capacity for loving, humbles me.