“What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr.Stalker, but could you, like, not?”

“You either fainted or you wanted a much closer look at the cracks in the tile. Either way, you hit hard.""Seriously?"He nodded. "Maybe you shouldn't have been trying to make out with him," he suggested.How did he know that? "I was kissing him good-bye."He snorted and exchanged glances with the nurse. "That's not what it looked like to me."Probably not. But what happened? Could Reyes Farrow take control over me even from a freaking coma? I was doomed.”

“Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.”

“Hey, boss. Where are you?” she asked.“I just picked up something to eat. What about professional belly dancers?”“Um, I don’t know, maybe with horseradish.”

“But have you ever seen one?....They shook their heads. "Not Physically, no. But if you look at this passage - "Man, she liked that Bible. I'd read it and could definitely understand it's appeal, but I didn't have time for this.”

“For one week, all I could think about was drinking margaritas--well, that and running my tongue along Reyes's teeth--but I didn't have salt--or Reyes's teeth. I'd also lacked the energy to leave my apartment to get some--or the desire to stoop low enough to beg Reyes to let me lick his teeth after what he did--so I could only wish for a margarita. And dream of Reyes's teeth.I'd secretly hoped a margarita would magically appear in my hand, but that would mean I would have to put down the remote, and God knew that was not going to happen.”

“You called me at four thirty-four....I hate four thirty-four. I think four thirty-four should be banned and replaced with something more reasonable, like, say, nine twelve.”