And For The Rest Of The Night,

For Me, The Dialogue Is The Easiest Part Of Writing. It Just Always Seems So Obvious What A Character Will Say. Maybe Its Because I Talk Too Much!

Stirlings Of Old Had Been So Damned Besotted With Their Newfound Earldom That They Couldn't Think To Put Any Other Name On Anything...it Was A Wonder He Didn't Drink Kilmartin Tea And Sit On A Kilmartin-style Chair. In Fact, He Probably Would Be Doing Just That If His Grandmother Had Found A Way To Manage It Without Actually Taking The Family Into Trade.

He Stepped Toward Her, And Her Heart Just Ached From It. His Face Was So Handsome, And So Dear, And So Perfectly Wonderfully Familiar. She Knew The Slope Of His Cheeks, And The Exact Shade Of His Eys, Brownish Near The Iris, Melting Into Green At The Edge. And His Mouth-she Knew That Mouth, The Look Of It, The Feel Of It. She Knew His Smile, And She Knew His Frown, And She Knew- She Knew Far To Much.

Tonight," He Whispered, His Voice Hoarse And Hot In Her Ear, "i Will Make You Mine." -simon To Daphne

There Was A Huge Difference Between Dislike And Disregard.