She accepted it from then on. Books liked her. Books wanted to look after her.

For stubborn souls like Lisette, death was easier than the courage it took to actually change your life.

Not every man was sorry when he hurt a woman.

He had a smug smile on his lips like he knew, even in his sleep, that women all around him were dying from love because he'd taken their hearts and hidden them where they'd never find them.

When you have to do something, you have to do it. Putting it off only makes it worse. Believe me, I know.

Like magic, she felt him getting nearer, felt it like a pull in the pit of her stomach. It felt like hunger but deeper, heavier. Like the best kind of expectation. Ice cream expectation. Chocolate expectation.

Those who decided to stick with her would be her true friends. The others would just be scenery.