Nomi was different. A crusader, who still believed there was some good in the world and that it was her job to preserve it.
It was sweet. Misguided.
But so optimistic that he couldn't help but gravitate to her in hopes that some of it would spill onto him.
He desperately needed some of her light.

He didn’t hesitate for an instant, and as his big body settled on top of mine, I experienced a strange feeling of rightness, almost as though we were coming home in some way. It just felt so good to wrap my arms and legs around him and embrace him with my entire body, my entire being.

I didn’t need a jerk like my stepbrother to tell me I was pretty. And I certainly didn’t need him telling me what to do.

But since I was always looking at her, I caught those flickers of despair every time, and every time, I felt her pain in my very core.

“That laugh—” I said it out loud, only I wasn’t completely sure I’d meant to.
“I think it’s kind of shrieky.”
“No, it’s not. If there’s a sound that can add years to a man’s life, it’s the sound of your laugh.”

“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wish there was a way to bottle your laugh. I’d wear it on a chain around my neck. That way, I could listen to it anytime.”
“That is so darn poetic and unexpected. Nothing about you makes sense, Ledger. Do you know that?”
“Learned that long ago, unfortunately.”

“Once you’ve spent time on a battlefield, you get good at seeing into people’s souls. The poor girl has some dark stuff going on. Not quite sure what, but whatever it is, she’s here at Rockwood Beach trying to get away from it. Leaving shadows behind isn’t easy though. Another thing I learned as a soldier. You can’t erase the bad once it’s been etched in your memory. Seems like we hang onto the bad a lot longer and harder than the good.”

“You are good, sir. Not just wicked hot, but you know exactly what to say to turn me into a big, soft mess of girl pudding.”

I hadn’t smiled or laughed so much in a long while, and I was finding it healing.

Her heart beat out the syllables of his name.

“If you put another cold hand on me, Carter Mason Ambrose, I’ll knee you in the balls,” she all but growled at him. That sexy jerk did nothing, but laugh and wiggle his fingers at her. Just as he attempted to slide his other hand inside, her knee came up. He stopped her with a twist of his hips.

“You shouldn’t hide those.”
“Hide what?” Her sweet breath fanned over his face.
“Your freckles.”
“Men don’t like freckles.”
Chuckling, he continued his exploration of her face and eased his hand behind her neck. He wanted to undo the ridiculous bun she’d put her hair up in.
“This man does.” Then he said the worst thing possible. “In fact, I’d like to see if you have freckles in other places.”

“Hold up. I bet you’re back for my drinks. They don’t make them like me in the city, do they? I’ve ruined you for all other bartenders.”1

“You love how irritating I am. Just like I love how fucking irritating you are.”

My breath knocks against my lungs when he reaches forward, clips a fallen strand of hair away from my face, and tilts his head to the side.
“I don’t get it.” I blink, shuddering at his touch.
“Get what?”
“How a man could cheat on you.”

This damn woman has buried herself so deep in my fucking veins that there’s no way I can cut her out.

"I've never heard you admit you're not good at something."
"Well, it happens so rarely."

"I'm sorry," the guy whispers.
"It's okey." But it's not. He called me a freak. I heard it, and so did Noah. Once an insult like that has been released, there's no way to take it back. It becomes one more cut on my soul.

Morelli looked down at my utility belt.
"What kind of a statement is this?"
"Fear."
He gave his head a disbelieving shake. "You know what my biggest fear is? I worry that someday you might be the mother of my children."

Loser? Excuse me? Loser? Okey, that does it. No more Ms. Nice Person. No more reasoning. This jerk is going down. "Open this door!" I yelled. "Open this goddamn door!"