That's possible to likely. We're involved, you and me. I'm telling you what I'm going to do because I figure when people are involved, when they matter, they tell each other.

Her killer wrote a note on that stationary." "A note." Now Renquist's eyebrows lifted. "Well. That was rather arrogant of him, wasn't it?

She's in love, and that makes her strong. She'll need to be." "What makes you strong, Mia?" "Purpose. Love never worked for me.

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.

I don't let myself believe in writer's block. I feel very strongly writing is habit as much as an art or a craft. And if you write crap, you're still writing.

Do you know what I feel about you, Devin? About us?...Dazzled, you dazzle me. You make me feel things, and want things I never knew I could have. -Cassie

So, you’re hitting on Clare the Fair.” “I’m not hitting on her. I’m exploring the possibility of seeing her on social terms.” “He’s hitting on her,” Owen said around a mouthful of chips. “You’ve still got that thing you had for her back in high school. Are you still writing bad song lyrics about heartbreak?” “Suck me. And they weren’t that bad.” “Yeah, they were,” Ryder disagreed. “But at least now we don’t have to listen to you playing your keyboard and howling them down the hall.