“There weren’t any fairy tales in the streets around me. If there was ever a Cinderella, her glass slippers shattered under her weight and she limped home bleeding from the ball.”

“It would be like Cinderella moaning about getting blisters from her glass slippers.”

“People like to talk about "Cinderella stories," but Cinderella didn't get her happy ending without lifting a finger. She had to show up at the ball, be charming and smooth, and win over the prince. Of course she had help along the way, but ultimately it was up to her to make the fairy-tale ending happen.”

“It doesn't feel swollen," he commented, bending his head torward her ankle again. "Does it hurt at all?""Very little. Not nearly as much as my dignity.""In that case, by tomorrow your ankle and your dignity will probably be fine."Still crouching, he cupped her heel in his left hand and reached over to pick up her sandal with his right. Just as he was about to slip the sandal onto her foot, he glanced up at her and his lazy smile sent Lauren's pulse racing as he asked, "Isn't there some fairy tale about a man who searches for the woman whose foot fits into a glass slipper?"She nodded, her eyes bright. "Cinderella.""What happens to me if this slipper fits?""I turn you into a handsome frog," she guipped.”

“There was no slipper, nor spinning wheel, nor true love's first kiss. This was not a fairy tale with a happily ever after.”

“There was no point dreaming; the leaflet was nothing more than a glass slipper handed to the ugly sister. I would never fit in there even if they'd let me go, which was a fairy tale in itself.”