Not in My Book

The only thing every love story really has in common is that it’s worth it. Love is always worth fighting for. I mean, that’s why there’s all the songs and poems and movies about it. It has to be something spectacular if everyone’s chasing it.” “You really believe that, don’t you?” There wasn’t any malice in his voice, just pure curiosity. I nodded. “I don’t think Happily Ever After is an ‘if’ thing. I think it’s ‘when.

Even if it amounted to nothing, and she left me only with memories, I’d take them all. I’d hoard them to turn over in my head and examine from every angle, just to relive the magic of her.

His gaze was intense. We dared each other to back down, but neither one of us would. His jaw ticked. “Perfect. So, we’re not writing about each other.” “I guess not.” “No reason to read in between the lines then, huh?” “None at all,” I answered sweetly. “Then I guess I’ll see you the next chapter.

I thought of a million ways to move out of the country with no notice.

There’s so much more to a romance than just love.

Love should be come hell or high water, and I'm here for all of it with you.

Why We All Should Read Romance,” and my long-lost confidence in writing romance was suddenly regained. She eloquently expressed why women read romance and how it showed women taking control in their lives while still being desired instead of wholly objectified. And how it had expanded to include different gender identities and become a safe space for people of color. No matter how bad life got in the romance novels, there would be a Happily Ever After that proved nothing was unfixable.

I ignored the glass of my own shattered heart as I cut myself trying to put hers back together.

I just … wanted to be loved so badly that I thought being hurt was part of the deal.

If you think that, Rosie, then you haven’t been kissed the way you should be. You haven’t been kissed by someone who really wants you.

You don’t have to lower your expectations. You deserve more than your highest one. Any guy you’re with should be falling over himself to make you happy.

I don’t think Happily Ever After is an ‘if’ thing. I think it’s ‘when.

I shrugged, like it was inconsequential, but my gaze locked with hers hoping she could see what I felt. “I don’t want to be everyone else to you.

I wanted the kind of love you treated gently, like it could break. The kind that was intense and real. The kind you fought for, not against. And maybe I was wrong and love like that didn’t exist. But I wanted to get as close as I could to that feeling.

The act of writing itself was so vulnerable. It was strange to witness someone in those moments of privacy.

No matter how bad life got in the romance novels, there would be a Happily Ever After that proved nothing was unfixable.

Great. And when I’m writing a book for lonely

I'll wait for you, Rosie, I swear it. I'm in it for the long haul. I want all your tomorrows. Every single one you're willing to give me.

I was drunk on this moment,

So, how much tension could there really be? We live in the age of instant gratification. The only tension nowadays is whether your thumb will swipe left or right.

I'm scared of showing who I am and for it to not be enough. I've always wanted to be someone somebody can love. Not just like or admire, but love. I've yearned to find someone who looks for me in crowded streets and smiles in relief. Or wishes for me every chance they get. Someone who genuinely knows me and wants to figure out how to know more. But I feel like I never figured out how to give love, too.

You're allowed to be sad. You're allowed to miss the people you've spent your whole life with. You're allowed to miss the people who were good to you, Rosie.

It’d be the part where I told you not a single day has passed since we met that I haven’t thought about you. And not a single hour passes where I don’t miss you,” he whispered. “But we’re not writing a romance novel.” “No,” I conceded. “But maybe I can change your mind.

The love I had read about in Romance novels was so epic and monumental. I'd spent a lifetime craving grand gestures and sweeping proclamations. I hadn't known the small moments like this would feel as good.

Even in the silence, everything felt right

my mom used to say if I didn't have anything nice to say, then it was besr to say nothing at all.

I've set every expectation too high, bit it's because I'm scared of showing who I am and for it to be not enough.