Before I write the first page of a novel, I spend a long time creating detailed backgrounds for my characters. I imagine the experiences that have formed them, what makes them happy, angry, fearful, and what they yearn for.

Then he raised her enough to whisper in her ear, and while his voice was tender, his words were savage. "You're my woman, and no man or God or ghost will ever take you from me.

I was going to have to leave you anyway. Because I loved you too much to drag you down with me." My hand crept up to caress the rigid line of his jaw. "Why'd you change your mind?" I whispered. "After I calmed down a little and had a chance to think, I figured . . . I love you enough to try and deserve you. I would do anything, be anything, for you.

I've never been convinced that everything in a relationship needs to be talked about. Some things can't be fixed by a conversation

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

I grasp reality, but sometimes I like to choke it into submission.

He's a fascinating gentleman. Old-school. I tried to talk him into attending one of my services, but he said he wasn't finished sinning yet, and he'd let me know when he was.