We all look. The lucky find.

Plus it's just embarrassing when someone - oops.' She pressed a hand to her side, and had the blood draining out of Harper's face. 'What? What?' 'Nothing. baby's moving around. Sometimes it gives me a jolt is all.' 'You should stand up. You should sit down.

You--Roarke." Eyes watering, she reached for more tissue. "Jesus, Eve. Jesus Christ, you never sleep with anybody. And you're telling me you slept with Roarke?" "That's not precisely accurate. We didn't sleep.

If you write in category, you write knowing there's a framework, there are reader expectations.

You don't fix a man the way you do a fault in a pipe or a leak in a roof. You take him as he is, Mary Brenna, or you don't take him at all...adjustments can't be all made on one side, darling, else the balance goes off and what's being built just falls down.

Phillip look into Ray's eyes. He saw compassion and hope. And he saw himself mirrored back, bleeding in a dirty gutter on a street where life was worth less than a dime bag. Sick, tired, petrified, Phillip dropped his head into his hands. "What's the point?" "You're the point, son." Ray ran his hand over Phillip's hair. "You're the point.

Aren't most romance heros, or heros in fiction of any kind, generally superior to real men? Same goes for heroines and real women.