“You from the IRS? The man's voice was deep and wet, like mud slipping down a drain.”

“She swallowed and looked down at the artichoke petals piled neatly on the side of her plate. Her center certainly felt like it was melting, growing soft and wet just from the rasp of Mr. O’Connor’s voice. Why should a man already devilishly handsome also have a voice that could charm birds from the sky? It simply wasn’t fair.”

“Jake wasn't about to be seduced like some schoolgirl. Not by a man who went by the unlikely name of Tornado, not by anyone. He stood as firmly as he could in the mud and tore his mouth from the kiss, staring into too dark eyes. As his hands made their way into Tor's wet jeans he said, "This doesn't mean I like you, you know.”

“The silence seemed to gain weight between us, his face turned hard, and his lips became a thin, grim line. He pushed me away from him. "If I wanted to drain you, Cassandra," he said, his voice deep, "it wouldn't be your blood you should be concerned about.”

“What happens if one day we’re standing in a kitchen, dishwasher empty, oven and air full, you’re washing and I’m drying, and the ring slips down the drain and flushes out to sea?”

“When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer—no matter how eloquent the oration.”