“His talking voice was amazing, but his singing was like honey ands smoke had hooked up in the back of a van at a rock concert and had a love child. Smooth and rough at the same time.”

“The sound of his rough voice was…comforting, like there was safety wherever he was. Well, some safety…he certainly had an awful lot of sneaky tricks up his sleeve.”

“Women love to talk. I'll bet Van Gogh had a woman. And I'll bet she talked his ear off.”

“Kingsley did the same, except he also removed his T-shirt, showing off his broad chest, tan and smooth. When had Kingsley had time to work on his tan? Mimi wondered.”

“Claire freed him, and then lifted Ryan to his feet. She pushed back his head to inspect his wound, overly rough. “You’ll live.” Ryan winced. “Thanks, Honey, I love you, too.”

“...every now and then he would tilt his head back so that his sunglasses reflected sky, and would say, "I love her." Every time he said it he seemed delivered of a profundity that amazed him, as though he had coughed up a pearl.”