It's drugs, isn't it"? Tara was so innocent. She got pulled into that glamorous lifestyle with all her rich friends...all that cocaine dust floating around, she probably inhaled some by accident, and then -' 'There's no such thing as secondhand cocaine snorting, Mom.

There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it's because you're so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire. I've so often wondered-are you ticklish, my lord?

I've got about ten things to say to you right now. But at least nine of them would make me sound like a psycho.” In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I nearly smiled. “What’s the tenth thing?” I asked his shirtfront. He paused, considering it. “Never mind,” he grumbled. “That one would make me sound like a psycho, too.

I will admit, I once launched myself at Julie Garwood for a hug, hoping some of her magic would rub off on me... and I have fangirl crushes on Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Linda Howard, and Kresley Cole, among many others.

Well, I find a strange comfort in the fact that he wouldn't feel this degree of animosity now, had he not loved me so much before.

The way I was brought up ‘he needed killing’ is an airtight alibi.

He stared at me with bitter understanding. We both knew there was no room in this for friendship. Nothing left but childhood history.