So what's your second suggestion?" "Tread lightly." "That's it? That's the best advice you can give me?" "All right, tread very lightly.

Silent mantra practice helps me respond rather than react.

But it didn't stop him from loving her just a little. From loving all women-all shapes, all sizes, all walks of life. Their soft skin and softer curves, the way they gasped and giggled and sighed, the way the wealthy ones played their coy games, and the less fortunate ones looked at him, stars in their eyes, eager for his attention. Women were, without a doubt, the Lord's finest creation. And, at twenty-three, he had plans for a lifetime of worshipping them.

Even as she’d come to know the real Ralston—the Ralston who was not cut from heroic cloth—Callie had failed to see the truth. And, instead of seeing her own heartbreak coming, she had fallen in love, not with her fantasy, but with this new, flawed Ralston.

She tilted her head, considering the sensation. "It is strange." He gave a hiss of laughter at the words. "It only gets stranger, darling. But we shall try for something more.

You cheated!” He looked at her, wide-eyed with feigned outrage. “I beg your pardon. If you were a man, I would call you out for that accusation.” “And I assure you, my lord, that I would ride forth victoriously on behalf of truth, humility, and righteousness.” “Are you quoting the Bible to me?” “Indeed,” she said primly, the portrait of piousness. “While gambling.” “What better location to attempt to reform one such as you?

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