When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.
Julia QuinnRaw toast," Lucas said grimly, shaking his head. "It goes against the very nature of man.
Julia QuinnDarling," he said distractedly,"about the moon..." "Yes?" "I don't think it matters whether you want it or not." "What are you talking about?" "The moon. I think it's yours." Victoria yawned, not bothering to open her eyes. "Fine. i'm glad to have it." "But--" Robert shook his head. He was growing fanciful. the moon didn't belong to his wife. It didn't follow her, protect her. It certainly didn't wink at anybody. But he stared out the window the rest of the way home, just in case
Julia Quinn