Quotes from Susan Mallery

Instead he looked dark and dangerous, a man on the sexual edge.

Everyone made mistakes. The measure of a person was what happened afterward. Later

American flag appeared on the screen. "Between 2001 and 2012, nearly sixty-five hundred American soldiers were killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. During that same period of time—" the screen shifted to the face of a battered woman clutching two small children "—almost twelve thousand women were murdered by their husbands, boyfriends or a former partner. Even now, three women are murdered every single day by the man who claims to love them.

When we don't like something in someone else, a lot of the time it's because we don't like it in ourselves.

If you get into trouble, give a shout." "We'll be fine," Gladys said. Famous last words, Zane thought, wishing he could believe them. All the novices looked as if they could be blown off their mounts by a stiff wind. He didn't usually allow for second-guessing, but he was about to make an exception. Deciding to go forward with the cattle drive had been about the stupidest idea he'd ever had.

People have trouble admitting when they act for purely selfish reasons. Telling the truth about something like that forces them to redefine their sense of self. So they make up a story. We all do it. Tell stories to explain the unexplainable. To get by. Sometimes the stories even help us survive that which would otherwise

On her worst days, she feared she was actually less. And that truth had defined the rest of her life.

He was a man on the sexual edge, and she couldn't wait to push him over.

How can you have a book for a friend?" Abby asked. "You can't talk to them." "No, but they can take you away to another place. With books, the world feels safe.

Hi, Zane. How are the preparations coming?" He gave her one of his grunts, then shrugged. She took that to mean, "Great. And thanks so much for asking.

Be comfortable saying no, Pamela. At the same time, be comfortable saying yes. Every now and then life gives us an unexpected opportunity. How sad to walk away without sampling what is offered.

Reason returned and she wanted to wince. Had she really begged him not to stop? "I, um, want to tell you--" She broke off, not sure what she wanted to say to him. She looked at his face, but the night was too dark for her to be able to see what he was thinking. Besides, how was she supposed to think when the man's hands were still down her pants?

She decided she would find out all she could about Bettina then kill off a character just like her in her next book. The death would be grisly, she promised herself. Slow and painful.

The sliding doors opened, and a man entered the baggage area. A tall, dark-haired man with incredibly broad shoulders, a cowboy hat and a gaze so penetrating Phoebe knew he could probably tell what color her panties were.

She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warm dough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Or maybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlic and nuts. Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Something falling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted like heaven.

I have to know," he murmured. Know? Know what? Before she could ask, he moved his right hand across her hip to her belly, then slipped it down between her legs. His fingers slipped across slick, swollen flesh. They both sucked in a breath. He pulled his hand free and carefully zipped and buttoned her jeans. About fourteen thousand questions flashed through her brain, but she settled for the most important one. "What did you have to know?" "That you wanted it, too.

Her mother watched her with that "I'm going to be patient because I love my child, but wow is she dumb" look.

She thought about how she felt when she was around him and how he'd always been the best man she'd ever known. She thought about his kindness and thoughtfulness, how he made her laugh and how she knew, when something bad happened, that he would be there. She thought about how she wanted to take care of him and be there for him, so he would know, no matter what, that she had his back.

Everyone gets to have dreams. Not just you.

He was probably insulting her, but the way he said the word made her feel almost tall and, if not blonde, then certainly highlighted.

To have lost her husband, faced a terminal illness, then to have gone through transplant surgery and come out the other side still believing in love was amazing.

But if your two-hundred-square-foot home was going to stay in one place

None of us is exactly how we want to be. The goal is to be the best person we can be, given our flaws.

Your mother can't hurt me. I have Fletcher and my girls and you. My life is perfect. Any cruelty she speaks comes from a place of pain and while sad, isn't my responsibility.