What?" "you're So Neat," She Said, Looking

Darling," He Said Distractedly,"about The Moon..." "yes?" "i Don't Think It Matters Whether You Want It Or Not." "what Are You Talking About?" "the Moon. I Think It's Yours." Victoria Yawned, Not Bothering To Open Her Eyes. "fine. I'm Glad To Have It." "but--" Robert Shook His Head. He Was Growing Fanciful. The Moon Didn't Belong To His Wife. It Didn't Follow Her, Protect Her. It Certainly Didn't Wink At Anybody. But He Stared Out The Window The Rest Of The Way Home, Just In Case

She'd Met Colin On A Monday. She'd Kissed Him On A Friday. Twelve Years Later. She Sighed. It Seemed Fairly Pathetic.

It Wasn‟t Even Desire. It Was Far More Than That. It Was Love. Love. With A Capital L And Swirly Script And Hearts And Flowers And Whatever Else The Angels— And Yes, All Those Annoying Little Cupids—wished To Use For Embellishment.

Daphne Felt Something Wild And Wicked Take Hold. “let’s Walk In The Garden,” She Said Softly. “we Can’t.” “we Must.” “we Can’t.

She Was Petite, Small In That Way That Made A Man Want To Slay Dragons.