…he murmured. “Of course, you’re my favorite ride.” “Aw, that’s sweet, baby. And you’re my favorite joystick.

One day at a time. You rise, you eat, you bathe, and you talk to the few people you can tolerate while feeling so wretched. Over time, it hurts a little less. Then a little less. And so on...Until one morning, you will awake and realize the pain is only a memory. It will always be with you, but it will eventually lack the power to cripple you.

He caught me to him and cupped my cheek in one hand. “I want to keep feeling the way I feel when I’m with you. Just tell me what I have to do.

Actually, you know what? You keep thinking I'm God's gift to women, angel. It's better for me if you believe I'm the best you can get.

I can still feel you, Eva. Still taste you. I’ve been hard since you left, through two meetings and one teleconference. You’ve got the advantage, state your demands.

Oh, I’ll fight you,” she promised, her eyes clear of shadows. “That’s the way I roll.

I've learned to allow myself the room to fall in love with what I'm writing.