“Harriet had half expected him to be wearing some bizarre 1920s underwear so was as relieved by his Calvin Klein’s as she was impressed by the bulge in them.”

“Harriet dreamt of someone well dressed and flamboyant, who spoke like the lead in a black and white film, who drank champagne like other people drank Carling and who could talk about history and philosophy and life for hours, without making themselves sound like an idiot. Someone who made romantic gestures, who was generous to everyone and extravagant towards her. Someone, for preference, who rowed and had the muscles to prove it. When she was really having a bad day, someone with a title. Every time a well-meaning access scheme leaflet tried to reassure her and all the other state school applicants that Oxford wasn’t wall to wall Old Etonians permanently dressed in tuxedos, she died a little inside.”

“So, did you spend the night with the blond rich wanker or the dark haired posh twat?”

“When you say he’s your soulmate, I think what you actually mean is that he’s utterly gorgeous and you’d really like to get him naked. Let’s not get too melodramatic here.”

“The Cavaliers’ Midsummer Party. Celebrate the lengthening of the nights with us. Dress like it’s your last night on earth. 21st June. Be ready and we will be waiting.”

“You need to be careful around those posh boys when you go to Oxford. They may seem charming, but they’re not like nice dependable Yorkshire lads.”

“When Bay was done she looked down at herself, dressed in a plain white bra, torn bikini underwear, and cowboy boots. “I feel like I’m dressed for the midnight show at the Crazy Horse Saloon,” she muttered. Her mouth went dry when she looked at Owen, who was left wearing cowboy boots and black Calvin Klein’s. The knit cotton underwear hugged him lovingly from waist to thighs. He was a female’s fantasy come to life.They stared at each other, enjoying what they saw. And realizing just how close they’d come to losing their lives.“You look good,” he said.”