And you're not the kind of girl I want." Surely he couldn't mean the fact that I was Mexican. From what I knew of Hardy, there wasn't a bit of prejudice in him. He never used racist words, never looked down on someone for things they couldn't help. "What kind do you want?" I asked with difficulty. "Someone I can leave without looking back.

Roy received my comments with a forced smile. "Hardy, didn't I warn you not to date a woman who reads?" Hardy seemed amused by my outspokenness. "Keeps the arguing to a minimum," he replied. "No point in trying when I know she's going to win.

Come on, Ella. Sleep green.' Ignoring him, I got into bed wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts printed with penguins. I reached over to the nightstand and flipped off the lamp. A moment of silence, and then I heard a lecherous murmur. 'I like your penguins.

It’s all right,” the boy murmured as he felt her trembling. “My grandmother always told me ‘Never try to turn back on a new road—you don’t know what adventures await you.

She was everything he'd ever wanted, beauty and fire arching against his despoiling hands.

He was unbelievably hard. Everywhere. He was in control, infinitely stronger, and he wanted me to know it. -Ella

Why is life so difficult for some people and not for others? Why do some people have to struggle so much?