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I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable. How sweet, Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow.
Lisa Kleypas
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Lisa Kleypas
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: November 5
Author
Novelist
Writer
Temple
Texas
Lisa Kleypas Ellis
Woman
Youth
Beef
Father
Sweet
Enjoyable
Dream
Dreams
Shop
Every
Dead
Carrying
Hauling
Told
Cows
Mumbled
Sides
Shops
Sickly
Eyes
Closed
Preferable
Eye
Spent
Pork
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Here's your hat, and by the way, I'm a virgin
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I've always started every day by going to the window for a glimpse of the sky. But now I won't have to. Why not? She asked softly. Because I'll see the blue of your eyes instead. How romantic you are, she murmured with a grin, kissing him gently. But don't worry. I won't tell anyone.
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What kind of wedding would you like? he asked, and stole another kiss before she could reply. The kind that turns you into my husband. She touched the firm line of his mouth with her fingers. What kind would you like? He smiled ruefully. A fast one.
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A man's vanity is more fragile that you might think. It's easy for us to mistake shyness for coldness, and silence for indifference.
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If I'm to change my life for you, I've got to have some hope. I don't want you to change your life for me. You'll have to make the same decision every day, over and over - it must be for yourself alone.
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Fate is the malevolent little jester sitting up in the heavens and pondering over how ridiculous we humans are and he does his best to make fools out of all of us. And sooner or later he succeeds.
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And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.
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I think the busiest people are often the loneliest.
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Christopher heard a pair of women gossiping nearby, whispering in disapproving undertones. ... Ramsey was found flirting in a corner with a woman. They had to drag him away from her. Who was it? His own wife. Oh, dear.
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Haven, don't ask me to define the boundaries of normal. You know how I was raised. My father once struck strands of his own pubic hair onto a painting and sold it for a million dollars.
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Hardy was every loose-limbed cowboy in warn denim, every pair of blue eyes, every battered pickup, every hot cloudless day. -Liberty
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It's drugs, isn't it? Tara was so innocent. She got pulled into that glamorous lifestyle with all her rich friends...all that cocaine dust floating around, she probably inhaled some by accident, and then -' 'There's no such thing as secondhand cocaine snorting, Mom.
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Friends are the support bras of life.
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