My dream had been shattered, but then re-created, fashioned into something with more meaning and becoming more precious.

Two people see each across a room or their skin brushes. Their souls recognize the person as their own. It doesn't need time to figure it. The soul always knows... whether it's right or wrong.

You’re nice to me because you think I’m pretty?” “And because you have brown eyes. I’m a sucker for big old brown eyes.

We also told her you weren't a serial killer," Brit interjected. Cam nodded. "That's a glowing recommendation. Hey, at least he's not a serial killer. I'm going to put that on my Facebook profile.

Within a few short hours, he nearly had me agreeing to try deer jerky for the first time. Almost. If it weren't for Cam continuously whispering "Bambi" in my ear every couple of minutes, I would've caved.

I trust you with my life

Sweet baby Jesus, Blue Eyes was... He was gorgeous in all the ways that made girls do stupid things. He was tall, a good head or two taller than me and broad at the shoulders, but tapered at the waist. An athlete's body - like a swimmer's. Wavy black hair toppled over his forehead, brushing matching eyebrows. Broad cheekbones and wide, expressive lips completed the package created for girls to drool over. And with those sapphire-colored eyes, holy moley...