Sarah Addison Allen

It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.

I was just telling Claire about a guy I met in bread class. I hate him, but he could be my soul mate.

Sometimes its necessary to embrace the magic, to find out what's real in life, and in one's own heart.

Oh, please. Everyone in this town always says that, like you have to be born here to understand things. I understand plenty. You're only as weird as you want to be.

Happiness is a risk. If you’re not a little scared, then you’re not doing it right.

She finally understood that, no matter how hard you try, you can't make someone love you. You can't stop them from making the wrong decision. There's no magic for that.

The apple tree in the background, just barely visible, was stretching a single limb out to her, as if wanting to be in the photo with her.

Sometimes you weren't supposed to share pain. Sometimes it was best just to deal with it alone.

On the day the tree bloomed in the fall, when its white apple blossoms fell and covered the ground like snow, it was tradition for the Waverleys to gather in the garden like survivors of some great catastrophe, hugging one another, laughing as they touched faces and arms, making sure they were all okay, grateful to have gotten through it.