He could deal with his guilt all by himself. Guilt didn't add up to love, an emotion she was done with forever.

E-mail creates the illusion that you're writing. You're not.

Okay, so I'll admit I'm curious. Big deal. We both know what that leads to. Dead cat.

Save your sweet talk for later, Daphne. The garbage guys just drove up with the new Dumpster." "Shut the lid after you climb in.

My website bulletin board is the place I interact with my readers.

Take it off first, soldier." He looked at her suspiciously. "Take what off?" "Your clothes. Entertain the troops." "My clothes?" He frowned. "I was sort of thinking you might want to do that for me." She shook her head and leaned back on one elbow, giving him her witchiest, bitchiest smile. "Strip." "Now, listen here, Francie--" Lifting a languid hand, she once again pointed toward the center of the room. "Do it real slow, good-looking," she purred. "I want to enjoy every minute.

Losing isn't as bad as not fighting at all.