Excerpt from The Little Rosebush That Could by Cathy Marley:

Regardless of what actually happened that rose has become a source of endless fascination and a symbol of our life. Each day, year round, it produces one unique bloom. Sometimes that bloom is almost miniature, its size, like some days in a long marriage, almost insignificant. Other times the flower bursts forth with all the greatness of a florists Valentines Day offering. Some buds are a jumbled mass of petals. Others have just a bare few. Some days the petals are crisp and almost spiky. Other days they are smooth edged and have a placid aura about them. Usually, the flowers are a brilliant chrome yellow, but not always. Sometimes their color fades away until it is almost white by the time the flower opens fully. Other days, the petals are tinged with hints of red or the roses very heart opens wide to reveal the loveliest coral color I have ever seen. Somehow I think its our roses way of telling us that it could have been red if it had chosen to be, but it finds this life of endless variety a far more interesting way to live.

And what a fascinating symbol that rose bush has become between my husband and me. You see, if you study the meanings of rose colors, you will understand that the colors alone mirror our life. The red that sometimes peeks through represents the love and respect that are at the core of our world. The peach and coral that tinge the petals speak of desire, gratitude, appreciation, friendship and admiration all qualities that have added depth to us. But the yellow is best of all. I believe it is truly the color that we were meant to have, for it is the color of joy, of gladness, of freedom. I believe that is the essence that remains when reds first fiery burst of passion passes and two people intertwine their destinies into one.

Excerpt from I Love You, Daddy by Roseanne Boyle

One time my brother was playing with my Dads golf clubs. He hit the ball as hard as he could to make it fly over the roof of our house, but instead, it slammed into the sliding glass doors on our patio. After a loud bang, everything was quiet for about three seconds, until one little crack started to show. Suddenly, lines were running every which way through the glass. While we both watched, hundreds of pieces fell to the floor all at one time. This is the only way I know how to put into words what happened to my heart, that night I heard my mother say those words to my father.

Excerpt from This Is the Year by Mitzi L. Boles

His touch was sensuous; each gentle caress raised more hair on my goose-pimpled skin. His soft kiss was intensely electrifying. Innocence was restored in me that I thought had died, and for the first time in my life I tasted a moment of how young love was suppose to be. I loved how he made me feel, but I believed he deserved better than a girl who hid in the darkness of her impurity.

Excerpt from Wrinkled Anticipation by Marilyn Haight

I opened my eyes one wink at a time, stretched, rolled over, and stared at the body lying next to me. Was it breathing? I stared for a long time. Yes, its chest rose and fell in adagio. "Sleeping Beauty" was blissfully at rest and completely unaware of my desires. Silly me. Why did I expect today to be different?

Excerpt from Old Spice by Vivia Giovannini

But the tree is not large. Lacey, fernlike leaves spread above me, lightly trembling in the salt breeze. No soft sound, but the tracery of their shadow is on my face and I feel the motion rather than hear it. Clustered, pink blossoms drift around me, floating to the ground like small, fluted wings. I caress the rough bark with my eyes and the branches smile a greeting. We absorb each other, the tree and I. Scent of flowers is in my nostrils along with scent of the ocean, slightly salty and cool, sand and seaweed smells. The shore is stitched together with yarns of sea grape and appliqus of wild poppy. Foam scuds up from the vastness of the sea to bubble on the beach. Strong fingers of dark pumice rock spread out to break the smooth surf into fans of jet spray shot upward, hissing back on itself with every surge. Ceaselessly, forever, forever

Excerpt from Hero Worship by Cathy Marley

Do I still feel some hero worship? Of course I do. The true heroes in our lives dont stop being heroes just because their pedestals shrink or are removed entirely. We just see them differently. My sisters pedestal no longer puts her above my reach. It is still there, but now it is on a level that allows me to step up and be her equal as we both become our very best selves. In some ways that makes us both heroes. Holding tight to one another, we can reach for others who are ready to step up and stand beside us as they seek the best in themselves and the world. You see, the pedestal may not be so very tall, but there is lots of room at the top and all of us, heroes in one way or another, have earned the right to stand on a pedestal every now and then.

Excerpt from KISSES by Virginia Nosky

You taste of honey kisses on my tongue
and my hunger is filled with you.
And a kiss with my lips, what of that?
she questioned me.
Ah, my love, that is the kiss of kisses.
And will you have one then? she smiled.
I will have two if it please you, I answered.