The thing people don't realize, God bless them, is that my books are supposed to suck.

Ian paused and leaned closer to me so that I couldn't seem to see anything around his face, just snow and sapphire and ink.

Hate is a passionate emotion.

Is the fire gone?" "Yes," I sighed. "Thank you, Edward." "I love you," he answered. "I know," I breathed, so tired. I heard my favorite sound in the world: Edward's quiet laugh, weak with relief.

My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn't like math;in math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.

Everything in my world was about him. What a silly thing to expect.

True love was forever lost. The prince was never coming back to kiss me awake from my enchanted sleep. I was not a princess, after all. So what was the fairy-tale protocol for other kisses? The mundane kind that didn't break any spells? Maybe it would be easy - like holding his hand or having his arms around me. Maybe it would feel nice. Maybe it wouldn't fell like a betrayal. Besides, who was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.