I Need To Write To Be Happy.

‘was That Like A Cookie?’ She Wondered. ‘hmmm?’ ‘you Know, Have A Cookie. You'll Feel Better.’ She Put Her Hands On Either Side Of His Face, Lifting It As He Laughed. ‘were You Making Me Feel Better?’ ‘i Certainly Hope So. It Worked For Me.’ He Dipped His Head To Kiss Her Lightly. ‘i Wanted You. I Always Do.’ ‘it's Funny How Men Can Wake Up With Their Brains In Their Cocks.’ ‘it Makes Us What We Are.’ Still Chuckling, He Rolled Her Over Him, Patted Her Butt. ‘let's Take A Shower. I'll Give You Another Cookie.’

Luck Is Luck ... What We Do With It Determines Whether It's Good Or Bad.

So, You’re Hitting On Clare The Fair.” “i’m Not Hitting On Her. I’m Exploring The Possibility Of Seeing Her On Social Terms.” “he’s Hitting On Her,” Owen Said Around A Mouthful Of Chips. “you’ve Still Got That Thing You Had For Her Back In High School. Are You Still Writing Bad Song Lyrics About Heartbreak?” “suck Me. And They Weren’t That Bad.” “yeah, They Were,” Ryder Disagreed. “but At Least Now We Don’t Have To Listen To You Playing Your Keyboard And Howling Them Down The Hall.

He Gave Her A Quick, Casual Kiss On The Cheek First. Then Came The Hug, And It Was The Hug That Always Made Laurel’s Heart Mush. Serious Grip, Cheek To The Hair, Eyes Closed, Just A Little Sway. Del’s Hugs Mattered, She Thought, And Made Him Impossible To Resist.

That Was The Biggest Problem With Getting Used To Someone, She Thought. You Were Lonely When They Weren't There.