“She swung the Stetson around and around on her finger, lifted it and whirled it through the air. It landed right on target, sitting up straight over his arousal.”

“The man towered over her five-foot-four-inch frame by a good ten inches. He was big, dark and deadly-looking, with piercing ebony eyes and long, silky black hair secured in a ponytail. Dressed all in black—leather jacket, cotton shirt and jeans—he blended into the night like a prince of darkness. Rorie shuddered at the thought. Whoever or whatever this man was, he was danger personified.”

“Plott's every touch, whether he was beating her or caressing her, was a form of brutalizing manipulation.”

“Ride em, cowgirl,' he said.And she did.”

“Joanna nodded in agreement, not resisting, not putting up a fight of any kind.”

“You'd think after seven years of riding, I'd have you broken in by now.' She licked him intimately.”

“Have you ever done any running or jogging?” Hawk asked.[...]“I walk,” she told him. “I’ve never had any desire to run or jog.”“Why not? Don’t you like to sweat?”“As a matter of fact, I don’t.” She smiled. “Besides, Southern ladies never sweat. We don’t even perspire.”“Then what the hell do you do?”“We glow.”