“She didn’t want to see the blow coming, but refused to take the coward’s way. She raised her lashes, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own, even though her knees threatened to buckle from fear.“You’ve made me very angry, Miss Constance,” he said. “No one disrespects the name Lachlan. Not without paying a price.”And then he did something she had not anticipated.He kissed her.”

“With a glance over her shoulder to ensure no one saw them, she charged up the stairs. Mr. Aldercy fell into step behind her, and they hurried like schoolchildren afraid of being caught in a prank.However, at the top of the stairs, games stopped. He whisked her up the last step, twirled her around until her back was against the wall, and kissed her.”

“We were all that mattered back then, or have you forgotten? Do you not remember that night? How we stood beside the river and followed the Shawnee way? Do you remember what I whispered to you?"She shook her head, refusing to look at him. She tried to wrest her wrist free, but he held fast."You are lying," he accused quietly. "You can't forget.""How do you know?" she threw back at him.Alex smiled. "Because I can't," he admitted sadly.”

“Leah’s baby was nestled protectively in the crook of Devon’s arm.In the golden firelight, his expression appeared grim. The neck of his shirt was open, the sleeves rolled up. With a soft gasp of mother love, Leah reached for her child. But Devon’s deep, silky voice stopped her.“Who is the baby’s father? And do you love him?”She froze. Her mouth went dry. Her heart pounded in her chest.He waited.”

“Liam stared at her, his gaze glittering hot with something she was afraid to identify because it made her knees weak and she couldn’t breathe from the intensity and pace of her heart pounding away in her chest.He wanted to kiss her.He didn’t want to want to kiss her—she could read that in his expression, as well—but she knew he did. And right, then. Cop or not—mistake that it would be— she wanted him to kiss her, too.”

“It was one way she had found to fill her solitary childhood, but it was more than that; the act of creation gave substance and shape to her life. It made order out of the chaos.”

“Lance told me his father didn’t think much of him. “He wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don’t do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing.” He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. “He always says, ‘Don’t get fat as your mother has,’ but I don’t think Mom’s fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I’m fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray...”