It's a strange life, isn't it? ...A Rom with no tribe. No matter how hard you look, you can never find a home. Because to us, home is not a building or a tent or a vardo... home is a family.

Great men don't nessarily make good husbands.

You're surrounded by it wherever you go, you walk through it, breathe it...it's in your lungs and under your tongue and between your fingers and toes.

Those blue eyes glinted with uncivilized suggestion. A faint smile was tucked in the corner of his wide mouth. Definitely wouldn't want to be alone in a room with that guy, I thought. His gaze moved downward in lazy inspection, returned to my face, and he gave me one of those respectful nods that Texan men had raised to an art form.

I’ve never heard of a man being so eager to confess to the parent of a girl he’s just ruined

You sweet…beautiful…lunatic,” he heard himself mutter.

I don't share my body heat indiscriminately.