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Jill Shalvis

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“Heat skittered through her belly, then directly south. “Sawyer.” In answer, he brought his head up and kissed her. Deep, hungry, tasting her in a purposely slow, thorough manner before pulling back to once again look into her eyes. Oh, God. “Sawyer, what are we doing?” she whispered. He shook his head. “No f#cking clue.”

“I don’t want to scare the guests with a big old guard dog,” Tara protested. “Safety is far more important than worrying about what anyone else thinks,” Sawyer told her. “You’re right, of course.” Tara looked at her sisters. “We’ll think about both an alarm and a dog.” “We can borrow Izzy from Jax,” Maddie said. “Sure,” Tara said. “And she can lick the next bad guy to death.”

“You came here a fighter, Maddie. Maybe you'd lost a round or two, but you were on your feet. You want to stay in Lucky Harbor? Fight for it. You want a relationship with your sisters? Fight for it." "What about you? What about a relationship with you?" He pulled back to look into her face as if memorizing her features. His voice, when he spoke, was low and gravelly with emotion. "I'm already yours. Always have been. All you have to do is step into the ring.”

“I'm done waiting. Done doing things the easy way and letting things happen as they will." Her heart caught. "What does that mean?" "It means this is too important to let slip away again. You're too important." He leaned back against the truck with a low grunt of effort, eyes dark, jaw clenched. "I love you too, Tara.”

“Sugar," Tara said in a voice that was pure Pissed-Off South. "You need to go far, far away." A few weeks ago, he'd have taken that to mean she didn't want to see his face within a six-hundred-mile radius. Now he knew the truth. He distracted her. He could live with that. "Came to see if I can help." "I think I know how to make burgers," she said smoothly. "But bless your heart." In other words, f*** off and die.”

“Mallory dropped her head to the steering wheel. "Look, I'm mad at you, okay? This isn't about me. I know my painful memories are relative. My life is good. I'm lucky. This isn't about how poor little Mallory has had it so hard. I'm not falling apart or anything." He stroked a hand down her back. "Of course you're not. You're just holding the steering wheel up with your head for a minute, that's all.”

“She had time to make room for him in her closet. The cat had time to get used to him. They had all the time they needed, because he'd told her he was hers, and he was a man of his word. "I've got all I need," she told him. He leaned down and kissed her again, then stroked a finger over her temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I want you to know," he said. "That you're the best choice I ever made." "No regrets?" "No regrets.”