As for inspiration, I find stark fear of missing the deadline very inspiring.

Lucy swayed in shock. A gust of wind moaned through the conservatory and blew out all but one of her candles. Simon must have done this. He’d destroyed his fairyland conservatory. Why? She sank to her knees, huddled on the cold floor, her one remaining flame cradled in her numb palms. She’d seen how tenderly Simon had cared for his plants. Remembered the look of pride when she’d first discovered the dome and fountain. For him to have smashed all this . . . He must have lost hope. All hope.

There's something about her," Caire said in a low voice. "She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.

Now, now," said Vale in a sickeningly sweet voice reminiscent of a nursery nanny. "I already gave him a drubbing for courting Emmie."Reynaud raised his eyebrows. "You did?""He did not," Hartley said even as Vale nodded happily. "I threw him down the stairs."Vale pursed his lips and looked skyward. "Not my recollection, but I can see how your memory of the event may've become hazy.

Excuse me, but I believe you have my lady,” one of them said in a quiet, deep voice that sent veritable chills down George’s spine. Harry.

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul.

Much of life is a game. If played skillfully, with an intelligent and fascinating opponent, it can become almost a dance. One challenges and moves, the other teases and skips away, only to dart forward later and strike a telling blow.