“As a girl, she was a legal prey, especially if she was dressed in a worn black leather jacket and had pierced eyebrows, tattoos, and zero social status.”

“The man towered over her five-foot-four-inch frame by a good ten inches. He was big, dark and deadly-looking, with piercing ebony eyes and long, silky black hair secured in a ponytail. Dressed all in black—leather jacket, cotton shirt and jeans—he blended into the night like a prince of darkness. Rorie shuddered at the thought. Whoever or whatever this man was, he was danger personified.”

“She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget.”

“She tightened her seat belt yet again, so she felt like she was wearing a strait jacket—appropriate dress for someone as crazy as she had to have been to come along on this trip.”

“The library was a little old shabby place. Francie thought it was beautiful. The feeling she had about it was as good as the feeling she had about church. She pushed open the door and went in. She liked the combined smell of worn leather bindings, library past and freshly inked stamping pads better than she liked the smell of burning incense at high mass.”

“A pang filled her chest at his absence, especially so soon after having decided she loved him. With a shake of her head, she chastised herself for acting like such a girl and got dressed.”