Just because we haven’t met Mr. Right doesn’t mean we’re doing anything wrong. And by the way, you’re brilliant and awesome, too. If I were a lesbian, I’d totally settle down with you and make lots of in vitro babies.
I could not have written this book the way I wanted to without the insight of one such friend, Brent Dempsey. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being so generous with your time and for helping me get it right. I solemnly swear to never again use the words stakeout or perp.
What about you? Girlfriend? Wife? Kids? Perhaps a gaggle of towheaded, extra large boys who already excel at sports and know how to make fire with the ass end of a lightning bug?
I have a slight oral fixation.
You look like you should be on a Wheaties box with this haircut.
This had been how Sidney’s last three hours had gone – trapped in a leather-interior hellhole with the crazy pregnant lady. She hoped the menfolk were having a nice, relaxing road trip in that souped-up man car they were riding in because as soon as they got to the Robertses’ house, she was pawning the woman formerly known as her sister onto the dude whose sperm had apparently turned her into a she-devil.
Putting aside your blatant patriarchal biases in assuming the necessary presence of a male familial figurehead, yes, I had a nice brunch, thanks.
He traced his thumb over her skin. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to look at me this way?
No use crying over spilled Prosecco.
So here she was, running up and down rocky terrain, slogging through mud, jumping over fences, and sloshing through cold, dirty creek water – all the while hoping that her stupid tampon wasn’t leaking since, for extra fun, she’d gotten her period that day – and the entire time, all she could hear was John’s deep, rich voice shouting at her.
Sweetie, you need to grab that stallion and ride him like a cowgirl.
She hoped the menfolk were having a nice, relaxing road trip in that souped-up man car they were riding in because as soon as they got to the Roberts’ house, she was pawning off the woman formerly known as her sister onto the dude whose sperm had apparently turned her into a she-devil.
He looked exactly the same as he did the last time she’d seen him three years ago: tall, dark, and scowling.
He growled low in his throat. “I don’t think I can do this the nice way, Jessica.
John turned to her, with streaks of dried blood along his face. “Thank goodness we got the easy job.
For the record, you are knocking it out of the park with this speech.
The way she saw it, there were some matters of style that simply needed to take precedence over practicality, and right at the top had to be the rule that said one did not wear black dress pants and pink Uggs to a meeting with the FBI. Not anyone who didn’t want to look like a jackass, anyway.
I’m just wondering what you’re going to do to the next guy who walks in,” the older man said. “They’re gonna start taking them out of here in body bags.
Not the way things typically went when he hit on a woman – not to toot his own horn, but women really dug the FBI thing – but, oh well. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see her again.
Jason stayed there, on the dance floor, watching her go. A rush of emotions swept over him, and he knew then one thing, the only thing that mattered. He loved her.
There’s an Irish blessing that I think fits well here,” Kathleen said. “May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home.