Everyone Has Secrets. Especially Me.

When A Man Writes A Romance, The Woman Dies. When A Woman Writes One, It Ends All Tidy And Sweet.

Men. The Day They Learned To Admit To A Mistake Was The Day They Became Women.

Your Heart Is Free Now." "no," He Whispered. "it's Yours.

Love's About Finding The One Person Who Makes Your Heart Complete. Who Makes You A Better Person Than You Ever Dreamed You Could Be. Its About Looking In The Eyes Of Your Wife And Knowing All The Way To Your Bones That She's Simply The Best Person You've Ever Known.

What Happened To Your Face?" Harriet Asked. "it Was A Misunderstanding," Daniel Said Smoothly, Wondering How Long It Might Take For His Bruises To Heal. He Did Not Think He Was Particularly Vain, But The Questions Were Growing Tiresome. "a Misunderstanding?" Elizabeth Echoed. "with An Anvil?" "oh, Stop," Harriet Admonished Her. "i Think He Looks Very Dashing." "as If He Dashed Into An Anvil." "pay No Attention," Harriet Said To Him. "she Lacks Imagination.