..he wanted her. And at another time, as another man, he would have her. Without hesitation. As lover. . . as more.

When I feel hurt, I fully experience my emotions (and don't make them anyone else's problem!). Then I question my thoughts, examining my belief system and meeting the reality of life.

You are beautiful and brilliant and bold and so very passionate about life and love and those things that you believe in. And you taught me that everything I believed, everything I thought I wanted, everything I had spent my life espousing--all of it...it is wrong. I want your version of life...vivid and emotional and messy and wonderful and filled with happiness. But I cannot have it without you.

He raked his fingers through his hair. "She doesn't need me." Ralston smirked. "You are laboring under that mistaken impression that it is their job to need us. In my experience it is almost always the other way around.

And... as long as they need me, it's easier to forget that I am alone.

It didn’t matter the quality of the writing— Callie’s fantasies about her fictional heroes were entirely democratic.

She had wanted more than she could have. She had wanted him, and more... she had wanted him to want her. In the name of something bigger than tradition, bolder than reputation, more important than a silly title.