Angela turned in her chair. Resting her chin on folded hands, the mirror reflected the look of a girl in love. ‘Oh, what a blessing fate has bestowed on me.

The strength was always in you. All you had to do was find it.

His lips were approaching hers, but she could not taste sin. Not yet. Not until she knew the name of this golden haired man, so her soul could sing his name for the rest of...

Thinking back on the outing to the theatre, she added, ‘I want a man, not a preening peacock!