Love is such a delicate beast. It tiptoes in with roses and candlelight and stays just long enough to tattoo ...

Seventeen years. That’s not just a number it’s a story. A big one. A living, breathing, sprawling novel with highs, ...

Love—oh, that tender rebellion of the heart—it doesn’t always arrive with trumpets or fanfare. Sometimes, it sneaks in, barefoot and ...

Love’s a sneaky lil’ thing. It shows up uninvited, turns your world into cherry blossom petals and chaos—and leaves you ...

Love, in its rawest form, doesn’t arrive wearing a tuxedo. Sometimes it stumbles in—muddy boots, messy hair, late but still ...

Love. That stubborn little firecracker that sparks even after a storm, even when the wood is soaked. And here you ...

Five years. That’s not just a number—it’s a story carved into the rings of time like the heartwood of a ...

Love, oh it’s that soft ache that stays behind even when the paws are no longer padding through the hallway. ...