Great. Just Great. One Glimpse Of His

Being A Journalist Is Good If You Want To Write Books: It Teaches You To Get Beyond The Blank Screen. My Books Have Been Described As Froth But There's Scope To Be Witty And Ironic About Everything In Life.

The Worst Thing A Girl Can Do Is Trail After A Boy When A Love Affair Is Dead.

A Real Relationship Is Two-way.

What Are They Waiting To See?" Sam Follows My Gaze And I Shrug. "who Knows? You Could Always Do A Dance, Or Tell A Joke, Or... Kiss The Bride?" "not The Bride," He Wraps His Arms Around Me, And Gradually Pulls Me Close. Our Noses Are Practically Touching. I Can See Right Into His Eyes. I Can Feel The Warmth Of His Skin. "you." Me. "the Girl Who Stole My Phone." His Lips Brush Across The Corner Of My Mouth. "the Thief." "it Was In A Bin." "still Stealing." "no It Isn't-," I Begin. But Now His Mouth Is Firmly On Mine, And I Can't Speak At All. And Suddenly, Life Is Good.

Except...i Do. Of Course I Do. Because As His Hands Gently Cup My Waist, I Don't Make A Sound. As He Swivels Me Around To Face Him, I Don't Make A Sound. I Don't Need To. We're Still Talking. Every Touch He Makes, Every Imprint Of His Skin Is Like Another Word, Another Thought, A Continuation Of Our Conversation. And We're Not Done Yet. Not Yet.