“I don’t know why you’re laughing, Miss Thing,” Nick said, turning his gaze to me. “You still fantasize over Joe McIntyre like you are thirteen years old!”“Oh, I own my obsession. If Joey Joe were here right now, I’d break him. I have no shame.”

“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wallbanging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”

“What time was that email sent?" I asked, with my own cocky grin beginning to form across my face. Sara clicked around a few times and then said, "Two-oh-seven a.m." "Shit," Jack said quietyly while I laughed aloud. "I knew it! Your are so busted, Hamilton!" I cried. I was teasing him, but inwardly I was dancing like an imbecile.”

“Yeah, she's right here. She's in the shower, in fact…Oh, Jack! I told Grace the funniest joke about the British invading her hoo—Wait, what?…Hold on…Grace, Jack would like you to know that he has seen the pictures and he thinks you were pointing that shrimp at him far too aggressively…No, she isn't acknowledging you. She's now banging her head against the shower tiles…Oops, now she's glaring at me…she's turning off the shower, Jack…she's coming towards me…she's naked, Jack…and angry…she's naked and angry, Jack…you would probably love angry, naked Grace. It's something to see. She's hitting me, Jack…I think she's going to take the phone away from…”

“The tension was so thick in the room, it was too much. He was too much. I couldn’t take the pressure, so I panicked. Sexy and in control Grace left and twelve-year-old Grace took her place. “Heh, heh, you said nuts,” I burst out. My self-edit button was now turned off for good.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”“No idea about what?” “How thoroughly you own me, Nightie Girl,” he said, leaning in to whisper this part in my ear. “And I know I love you enough to want you to have your happy ending.”

“OK snark, settle. You're telling me you don't have the tiniest crush on him? Tell the truth, Grace," she said, cornering me over by the dishwasher."I don't have a crush," I debated."Well, maybe I have half a crush. I have a 'cruh'," I admitted, giggling."But it's strickly Joshua inspired," I added, knowing that was not entirely true.”