“Was there any woman in the world quite like Nora? He was so glad she existed; even more glad there was only one of her.”

“Once upon a time,” Nora said, as she fluttered a series of kisses over his shoulders that sent every nerve in his body reeling, “a very poor girl from a fucked-up family became a famous writer with a wicked pen and an even more wicked tongue who made seven figures a year. And she went everywhere she wanted to and did everything she wanted to. And nobody ever tried to stop her. And she had her own pet Angel who needed to learn how to talk. So guess what she did?” “What?” Michael asked. He laughed in surprise as Nora slammed him down onto his back and slid on top of him. She brought her mouth onto his and forced his lips apart. “She gave him her tongue.”

“Welcome to the world of being owned. You'll like it. Until you hate it." Nora”

“How easily you forgive, Eleanor. How freely youabsolve the sins of others. Tell me, little one, when thetime comes, how will you absolve yours?With the first lash of the whip Nora felt a strip of fireburn across her back. She cried out from a pain soferocious she nearly choked on it.Like this, Søren, she dared answer only in her mind.This is how.”

“Why did you leave him?"The sigh that was Nora’s first answer billowed out in front of her in a cloud of white. "Winter," she finally said, "can be so beautiful and so cruel. Cruel and cold. And if you live in the presence of winter you never have summer." Nora stepped close to him and put her nose at his cheek. "You smell like summer.”

“Wesley looked down at her and Nora could barely meet his brown eyes, which bored into her with the fiery love of a guardian angel. God probably had eyes like Wesley's.....anyone who looked into them wanted to immediately apologize for any and all sins ever committed.”

“Nora— Forgive me for copyediting, but it must be said—you have raped the semicolon yet again. Stop it. It wasn’t asking for it no matter how it was dressed. If you don’t know how to use punctuation then do away with it altogether, write like Faulkner and we’ll pretend it’s on purpose.”Bite me, Easton, Nora said to herself as she corrected her sexually compromised semicolon in chapter eighteen. Seriously, bite me.”