Hunt seemed similarly indifferent to the show, his head inclined toward hers, his gaze locked on her face. Though his breathing remained soft and disciplined, it seemed to her that its rhythm had changed ever so slightly. Annabelle moistened her dry lips. “You …you mustn’t stare at me like that.” Soft as the murmur was, he caught it. “With you here, nothing else is worth looking at.

I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.

Do you think I should stay away from him?" I asked in a scratchy voice. Todd took a long time to answer. "My advice is, if you're inclined in that direction, go with your eyes open. It's okay to let someone play you, Haven, as long as you know what's going on.

What kind of wedding would you like?" he asked, and stole another kiss before she could reply. "The kind that turns you into my husband." She touched the firm line of his mouth with her fingers. "What kind would you like?" He smiled ruefully. "A fast one.

It's fairly easy to break hearts, Miss Duvall. The more interesting challenge is how to keep someone's love, not to lose it.

Maybe he's not college-smart, but he's smart in a way they can't teach.

I'm not short," Daisy muttered. "Short women are never mysterious, or elegant, or pursued by handsome men. And they're always treated like children. I refuse to be short.