The Travises who had survived were the most purely stubborn people on earth, the kind who relied on their backbones when their wishbones were broken.

There's nothing worse than breaking a promise to someone who cares about you.

He was so far from the gallant knights in her romantic fantasies...He was tarnished, scarred, imperfect.

“Simon,” she whispered, vaguely surprised that she had just used his first name, for she had never used it even in the privacy of her thoughts. Moistening her dry lips, she tried once more, and to her astonishment, she did it again. “Simon…” “Yes?” A new tension had entered his long, hard body, and at the same time, his hand moved over the shape of her skull in the softest caress possible. “Please… take me to my room.” Hunt tilted her head back gently and regarded her with a sudden faint smile playing on his lips. “Sweetheart, I would take you to Timbuktu if you asked.“

The sight of a sullen teenager is common no matter where you go. Teenagers want things so powerfully and can never seen to get them, and to add insult to injury, people make light of your feelings because you are a teenager. They say time will mend a broken heart and they're often right. But not where my feelings for Hardy were concerned.

If your concern is that I may be overcome with manly ardor and ravish you in a moment of weakness… I may. If you ask nicely.

I've always considered myself a feminist, which is such a tough word for people. Some people immediately assume that you're angry or you hate men, which is obviously not true.