“Honeysuckle. She smelled of honeysuckle. He thought about her pert little nose. He'd wanted to smile every time she tilted it to demonstrate her disdain toward him. If her obvious hatred for him hadn't been so great, hadn't hurt so… — Lorraine Heath Copy Share Image
“Being held, she thought, a little dazed. She was being held by a man, by Beckett, and in a way that didn't feel friendly or helpful. In a way that made something coil inside her, a long, slow wind. Something… — Nora Roberts Copy Share Image
