When it's your fourth marriage, you tend to lose faith in superstitions.

Writing is hard for everybody except fools.

His pacing stopped. The mattress sighed as he sat on the edge. seconds ticked by before he spoke so softly she could barely hear. "Sometimes I want to leave this town so bad I can taste it.

Phoebe tapped the toe of her sneaker against the dock. “There’s only one good use for a man like Heath Champion.” “Here we go again,” Molly muttered. Phoebe’s lip curled. “Target practice.

Now, now. Southern ladies don’t French-kiss and tell.

When it's your fourth marriage, you tend to lose faith in superstitions.

Before you go anywhere, Mr. Football Player,” Nita said, “I want to know exactly what your intentions are toward my Blue.