Kelly Moran

She broke my heart over and over, day after day, but I love her.

Common sense got drunk and giddy when Olivia was on the premises. Maybe he should just raise a glass, too, and dub reason a lost cause.

She was thinking of doing a little Cuervo therapy.

I give you my love & my luck. Don't throw either away.

For a guy who wore layers upon layers of armor, his give-a-shit was showing.

He was a drool-worthy, panty-drenching, yummy work of masculine art.

Redemption was asking too much, but he could hope. Something told him he__ still be seeking absolution when he took his last breath on some distant day.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was going out with a rifle in his hand.

He slid the photo out and raised it. The sun washed out any distinguishable characteristics. All except her eyes. He didn__ need a picture to remember those. As turquoise as the waters near Cozumel, and just as warm.

He was going to need God Almighty to come down from On High to explain this one.

He'd never need a camera to remember this, and damn if he ever wanted anyone but him to see her like she was at this moment.

She was supposed to be my salvation, and though she wouldn__ be my ruin, the loss was going to thrust my life right back to what started my downward spiral in the first place.

Organization takes the fun out of everything.

Her mother and memory lapses were BFFs.

God. He was an eye-gasm if she ever saw one.

He didn__ know what was hotter, her Star Wars reference or the breathiness with which she spoke it.

Lord, but did he grow up nice.

How southern belle of her.