I’m going to go," he said. "All right." He didn’t move. Then: "I don’t want to." "Do it anyway." He chuckled. "You’re a hard woman, Faith Devlin." "Hardy." "I didn’t know him. He isn’t real to me. Did you love him?" "Yes." But not the way I love you. Never like that.

The bad thing about living in a small town was that everything became a personal issue. The good thing about living in a small town was that everything became a personal issue. During times of trouble, the support system was massive.

A village somewhere was missing it's idiot.

I’m going to go," he said. "All right." He didn’t move. Then: "I don’t want to." "Do it anyway." He chuckled. "You’re a hard woman, Faith Devlin." "Hardy." "I didn’t know him. He isn’t real to me. Did you love him?" "Yes." But not the way I love you. Never like that.

He supposed he knew, rationally, that she wasn't the prettiest woman in the world, but if his eyes saw any imperfections, his heart didn't care.

He needed a woman. Bad.

His mouth was hot and hungry, and he kissed the way no man should kiss and still be allowed to run free.