Every Single Book Is A

“i'm Not Going Anywhere.” Gently, He Stroked Her Back, Cradled Her Head. Was There Anything More Astounding Or More Frightening To A Man, He Wondered, Than A Strong Woman In Tears? “i've Been Right Here All Along. I Love You, Eve, Almost More Than I Can Stand.” “i Need You. I Can't Help It. I Don't Want To.” “i Know. He Eased Back, Tucking A Hand Under Her Chin To Lift Her Face To His. “we’re Going To Have To Deal With It.” He Kissed One Wet Cheek, Then The Other. “i Really Can’t Do Without You.“

"what Was That Technique You Were Using On Those Bastards?" "an Ancient Form Called Kicking Ass."

My Fondest Wish, I Suppose, Would Be To Die At The Keyboard Right After Finishing A Book, Perhaps With A Little Time Off To Have Some Really Good Sex. It's Not, 'oh, Thank God, This Is Book No. 250. I Can Die Now.'

Love Without Trust? It's Not Love At All.

Life--you Have To Live It As It Comes.