Love Works In Mysterious Ways.

For Me, The Dialogue Is The Easiest Part Of Writing. It Just Always Seems So Obvious What A Character Will Say. Maybe Its Because I Talk Too Much!

Love Is Blind,” Harriet Quipped. “but Not Illiterate,” Elizabeth Retorted.

He’d Spent His Life Being A Perfect Gentleman. He’d Never Been A Flirt. He’d Never Been A Rogue. He Hated Being The Center Of Attention, But By God, He Wanted To Be The Center Of Her Attention. He Wanted To Do The Wrong Thing, The Bad Thing. He Wanted To Pull Her Into His Arms And Carry Her To Her Bed. He Wanted To Peel Every Last Inch Of Her Clothing From Her Body, And Then He Wanted To Worship Her. He Wanted To Show Her All The Things He Wasn’t Sure He Knew How To Say.

Before She Knew What She Was About, She Was Jumping About Like A Crazy Woman, Yelling, “yes! Yes! I Win!” “you Don’t Win,” Anthony Snapped. “oh, It Feels Like I’ve Won,” She Reveled.

You Are Always Looking At People Like This.” And Then She Made A Face, One He Couldn’t Possibly Begin To Describe. “if I Ever Look Like That,” He Said Dryly, “precisely Like That, To Be More Precise, I Give You Leave To Shoot Me.