Winning can be addictive

Roarke had to force himself not to snatch her up as she swept through the hallowed Senate halls. Members of the media were already leaping toward her, but she cut through them as if they weren’t there. “I like your style, Lieutenant Dallas,” he said when they’d fought their way to the car. “I like it a lot. And by the way, I don’t think I’m in love with you anymore. I know I am.

...If I don't have twenty or thirty books right here, waiting to be read, I start jonesing. That's my compulsion.

I have to say you don't look anything like a policewoman." Maxia's perfect eyebrows arched as she gave Eve's dress a quick scan. "Leonardo dresses you, doesn't he?" "No, I usually do it myself.

If you don't step forward, you're always in the same place.

I think sometimes fate cuts you a break. Like it says, okay, you've had enough of that crap, so it's time you fell into something nice. See what you make out of it.

It shouldn't make you sad to know you're loved, Grayson." But it did. It made him sad, and panicked, and for just a moment, wishful.