She knew her place in this family, always had. Knew why she was conceived. And it wasn't for a photo on the mantle.
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was going out with a rifle in his hand.
He slid the photo out and raised it. The sun washed out any distinguishable characteristics. All except her eyes. He didn’t need a picture to remember those. As turquoise as the waters near Cozumel, a...
Yes, best friend of mine. I am the famous photographer you've admired for years, and the man who's admired you.
Maybe he was going to hell. Except, he could’ve sworn that was where he’d been the past ten years.
Considering I'm a writer, you leave me strangely bereft of words.
Calm down. Ghosts don’t ring the doorbell.
It took a pair of ghosts to open my eyes.
This was sharing office space with wacko and bordering on ludicrous.
Maybe pulling her emotions out and inserting in his logic would change this morbid course. But damn if he’d joke about it like she did.
At least that left hope for him. Except "Beauty and the Geek" wasn’t exactly the proper translation of the popular fairy tale.
I have something I need to get off my chest.”“What’s that?”“This.” He closed his mouth over hers.
She had yet to actually call him by his real name. The psychologist in him had all kinds of theories as to why. The man in him wanted to hear her say it. Just once.
I'd have your back off-site too, if you'd let me." ~Cain, Ghost of You
A city full of eight million people. It was all rather lonely sometimes.
