Please come to me, Cat, because there's no surviving you. You don't have to love me back. You don't have to be mine. Just let me be yours.

Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist. “To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.

The way glass can be molded or blown or cut into any kind of shape made me think about how we as people - our characters or souls - can be shaped or changed by outside influences.

Anyone who had ever read a novel knew that governesses were supposed to be meek and downtrodden.

Fear you?" she said without thinking. "Good God, I would never do that." Easing her head back, Westcliff looked at her while a slow smile spread across his face. "No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "You'd spit in the devil's eye if it suited you.

Without a doubt... the worst part of being a single woman was having to take care of your own car.

Ah, there’s the governess voice. All stern and disapproving. It makes me feel like a naughty schoolboy.