It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.
He’d mesmerized her, held her soul captive. And she couldn’t move. “Unless you want more than a dream,” he said. She did. “Will you stay?” he whispered. “Or will you go?” She stayed. Heaven help her, she stayed. And Michael showed her just how romantic a library could be.