Charles could care less about shoes - and he suspected he wasn't alone among men in his feelings. Shoe, no shoe, he didn't care. Naked was good, though over the past couple of weeks he was beginning to think that dressed in his clothes was a decent second best.

Your woman tells me you will hunt me down and eat my marrow while I live." "Did she?" Charles looked at her, and she saw the approval in his face. She doubted anyone else would have read anything at all. His voice was a caress, just for her. "Would you like that, love?

"I thought Indians built fires with fiction." .... "I can do that, but I'd like to eat sometime in the next day or so. Sterno and Bic are much faster."

Being a martyr is highly overrated.

Mmm, he rumbled into my ear. I thought that being married meant that I never go to bed hungry.

She understood his passion because she felt the same way: as if nothing was more important than the touch of her skin to his, as if she'd die if he left her.

Happiness is German engineering, Italian cooking, and Belgian chocolate.