I don't think I ever believed in love, not really. Just though it was something James Bond made up, a long time ago, to get laid.

And Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war.

Oh my God. What in—” I was going to be killed by two generations of beautiful women. While naked. “Mom,” Isabel snapped, interrupting. “Do you mind not staring? It’s totally perv.

She couldn't make it untrue.

As always, there was an all-American war hero look to him, coded in his tousled brown hair, his summer-narrowed hazel eyes, the straight nose that ancient Anglo-Saxons had graciously passed on to him. Everything about him suggested valor and power and a firm handshake.

Counter Girl (in candy shop): You two are cute. Seriously. How long have you been going out? Sam: Six years.

Do you feel better?” I asked Sam as he opened the door to the Volkswagen for me. “Yes,” he said. He was still a terrible liar. “Good,” I said. I was still a fantastic one.