“You didn’t die. You’re not dying. You don’t get to die, Sara,” he ground out. “Start living.” — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“No one could control the length of their life, but they could control how they lived it.” — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“PICTURE A CREAM-COLORED couch. Now visualize one brooding dark-haired sex machine (I’m assuming, but I have a strong feeling about this) sitting on one end and one golden being of near perfection on the other. Then there’s me, in the middle, literally squished between two yummy smelling men, and…I just want to escape. The pizzas have been demolished (I ate… — Lindy Zart Copy Share
“I want to live as much as I can,and if people are around when I happen to get spontaneous, I can't exactly tell them… — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“She had realized something over the recent months: it didn’t matter who you were or what you’d accomplished in life; none of that mattered… — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“it didn’t matter who you were or what you’d accomplished in life; none of that mattered when tragedy struck. You had no pull; no… — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“Without making a conscious decision to do so, Drew grabbed a fistful of her ridiculous blond wig and tugged. Some of her hair came with it and he felt a moment of satisfaction when she howled. Bianca’s real hair was a matted mess against her head. He looked at the wig in his hand and moved his gaze to the… — Lindy Zart Copy Share
“Each song had a story to tell, each song was a small, but significant tale.” — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“Love was forever, love was not lost when a life was; love did not fall away or weaken a person. Love was strong and people were stronger because of it; love continued, in all forms, in every way, until the end of time and even after that. It was in the glance of gray eyes; it was in the caress… — Lindy Zart Copy Share
“We always think we have more time and that is the wrong way to think, because time is something we never have enough of.” — Lindy Zart Copy Share Image
“Why are you in my room?” “Because I can be.” “You shouldn’t be.” “Save it, Rochester. You broke my nose.” “Does it hurt?” He lifted a hand toward his face and dropped it. “You could say that.” “Good.” He nudged a tray on the floor with his boot. It had oatmeal, toast, and orange juice on it. “Hungry?” Honor’s stomach… — Lindy Zart Copy Share
“Why do you need a recipe book?” “So I can cook?” I raise my eyebrows. A frown twists his lips. “Pretty sure my mom isn't paying you to cook.” “Pretty sure your mom isn't paying me to sleep with you either.” As soon as I say it, I bite downhard on my tongue, tasting blood. So much for my idea… — Lindy Zart Copy Share
