When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.

the unexpected moment [is] always sweeter.

This is why I didn't get married last year," she said to him. "I wouldn't be here to nurse you." She thought about that for a moment. "Of course, one could make the argument that you wouldn't be in this situation if not for me. But we're not going to dwell upon that.

But when Anthony kissed her, she felt as if she were losing her mind. And when he kissed her twice, she wasn't even sure if she wanted it back!

It was one of those things that had to be experienced to be understood

Oh, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, "I love you so much. You must believe me." "I believe you," she said softly, "because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.

Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache—the kind that one could almost—but never quite—ignore.