His gut was stitched up good and tight, but that didn’t prevent it from flopping. He wiped his damp palms on the legs of his jeans and stood up shakily, leaning heavily on his cane.He called himself a masochist for putting himself through this torture day after day.He braced himself for the disappointment of having to go home alone.He braced himself for happiness like he’d never known in his entire life.He watched the door they would come through.

People don't care how smart woman is as long as she's charming and gay and pretty.

Nobody speaks smut to my wife and gets away with it.

You can only write by putting words on a paper one at a time.

What do you want? What are you willing to give up to get it? Writing requires you make sacrifices. Be prepared to work hard to be a writer.

Be prepared to work hard to be a writer.

Dispensing with the frivolity, he kissed her meaningfully. When at last he pulled away, her troubled expression alarmed him. "What?""Be careful, Hammond.""No one will know I was here."She shook her head. "Not that.""Then what?""You may have to put me on trial for my life. Please be careful that you don't make me fall in love with you first.

I'm sure you could have. Fending off unwanted male attention is a skill every attractive woman must acquire. But you're also a lady who was reluctant to cause a scene.. (Hammond Cross)

From what I know of you already, you have quite a reputation for providing customer satisfaction."Julie's cheeks burned. For Kate's benefit she said, "I try." "Oh, I'm certain you do more than try. You go all out." He paused for several beats. Then, "I've driven past the gallery thousands of times and always admired the works displayed in the windows. But I haven't had a reason to stop.""And now you did?""Now I did."She drew herself up. "Well, I'm sure Katherine will find the perfect piece for you. She's very knowledgeable.""He came to see you.""That's right, Ms. Rutledge. Not that Ms. Fields isn't perfectly charming and, I'm sure, knowledgeable." He shot Kate a smile over his shoulder, which she returned before he came back around to Julie. "But I'm placing myself in your very capable hands.

Women readers aren`t turned on by nice heroes any more than male readers lust after heroines who are too virtuous.There should be at least a hint,maybe even a promise, of corruptibility.

The F word turns me on, she whispered. The F word?FoodHe threw back his head and laughed. It rumbled up out of his chest and felt so good it startled him. For the first time in years,his laughter was spontaneous. It wasn`t tinged with bitterness and cynicism.

People reveal as much by their silence as they do by what they say.

People adjust their behavior to fit the society they live in. They integrate because they have to. But what they are on the inside doesn't change.

I don't panic unless I have to. Wastes energy.

If you wanted to kill me, why haven't you smothered me in my sleep?" "No sport in that." She gestured towards the ceiling. "Can I expect to be strung up on that bar and gutted like a deer?" He looked up at the bar and frowned. "Too much sport. Lots of heave-hoeing. Big mess to clean up after. Instead, why don't you just drink the poison-laced whiskey?" He extended the glass toward her again and when she didn't move he said, "No? Okay then." He shot the drink. She might not want the edge taken off but he sure as hell did.

From something as simple as what goes in to a good meatloaf to the not so simple - religion, culture, how you should vote, every damn thing you think or believe, your reactions, your behavior - were partially shaped by who and what your parents were.