Then I picked my book back up again and stroked her hair and read to the soundtrack of her breaths.

This time of year, I live and breathe the beach. My cheeks feel raw with the wind throwing sand against them. My thighs sting from the friction of the saddle. My arms ache from holding up two thousand pounds of horse. I have forgotten what it is like to be warm and what a full night’s sleep feels like and what my name sounds like spoken instead of shouted across yards of sand. I am so, so alive.

Imagine my delight and awe when I discovered such a thing was a real genre - contemporary fantasy or urban fantasy. It was like having my birthday twice in one week and cookie dough for breakfast.

How do you feel about helicopters?" There was a long pause. "How do you mean? Ethically?" "As a mode of transportation." "Faster than camels, but less sustainable.

Sam: “You—you greatly overestimate my self-control.” Grace: “I’m not looking for self-control.

You know what I mean. I'm telling you I was stupid over it. I thought it was about trying so hard to survive that you didn't have the time to be a good parent. Obviously, that's not it. Because you and I, we're both...wealthy in love.

I was wild and tame and pulled into shreds and crushed into being all at once.