“Max?” “Hmm?” “Will I have to use a litter box?” “Emma!”

“Will I have to use a litter box?"--Emma to Max after he just explained she'll be turning into a puma shifterThe Wallflower (Halle Pumas Book 1)”

“You ass-sniffing, butt-crack licking, litter-box-using fuckhole!”

“Simon told me I should take you home and start making kits. What do you think?” Max looked down at her, love and lust glowing equally in his brilliant smile. “Max?” “What?” His tone was wary; he’d come to expect the unexpected when she used that particular tone of voice. “Will I give birth to a baby or a litter?” “Emma,” he groaned. “I mean, will we be feeding them baby formula or Kitten Chow?” “Emma!” “If they get stuck in a tree, who do we call? Does the fire department do kitten rescues anymore? This is important stuff to know, Lion-O!” “God save me.”

“You know your cat is fucking with you when she poops in the litter box and somehow manages to miss the litter.”

“There’s nothing like that feeling of waiting for a guy. It’s the loneliest feeling in the world. Holding that cell phone in your hand as you take out the trash, use the bathroom, change the litter box. Fearful that the one second you aren’t looking will be when they call. Pathetic. And something I have done as recently as last week.”