Love didn't run on logic. It didn't follow neat lines or a list of priorities.

I'd always loved to read - and come from a family of readers - but I never thought about writing as a career.

Laying a hand on his heart, she timed its beats to her own. And knew the truest magic was there.

Three weeks hadn't changed Cop Central. The coffee was still poisonous, the noise abominable, and the view out of her stingy window was still miserable. She was thrilled to be back.

She wants to learn how to handle a gun. Well, I want George Clooney naked in my bed, but I haven't attempted kidnapping. Yet.

We're all victims of what life deals out. It's how we handle it that's important.

She walked with a ghost of herself, one full of potential and possibility. One who was fearless. Where had that girl gone?