Love is fragile. And we're not always its best caretakers. We just muddle through and do the best we can. And hope this fragile thing survives against all odds.

Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. But rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person, how beautiful it will be when the right person comes along.

Regrets about the journey, maybe, but not the destination.

What mattered most was knowing that love was mine to give, without strings or expectations.

It was one thing to divide the major assets, but how was it possible to divide the heart?

I'm writing a new love story, set in eastern North Carolina. Surprise, surprise, huh?

While I find inspiration in real life, the actual stories are, thankfully, works of fiction - which, given the considerable turmoil in my character's lives, is probably a good thing!