“If a gorgeous woman hits on me right off the bat, I’m suspicious. I wonder what she wants. If she hasn’t heard my wit, felt my charm, how could I appeal to her? I’m no Brad Pitt. So what is she after? Most likely it’s my horse cock.”

“So here were the facts: I felt possessive of her. Not in a romantic sort of way, but in a "hit her over the head, drag her off by the hair, and fuck her" way. Like she was my toy and I was keeping the other boys in the sandbox from playing with her. How sick was that? If she ever heard me admit to that, she would cut off my balls and feed them to me.”

“It’s fine, Mom, really.” She’s tucking me into my bed, asking me how my back feels for the one hundredth time in the ten minutes that I’ve been home. She smiles and strokes my hair. That’s what I’m going to miss the most about her. The way she strokes my hair and looks at me with so much love in her eyes.”

“And if you can believe it…she slapped me again. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop hitting me!” I finally looked up at her, but she was a blur. She hit me so hard my damn eyes were watering (I was not crying – eyes water. I think we all know I’m a badass and I don’t cry).”

“She turned. ‘I’m quite serious, you know. I plan to murder him tonight.’ She touched my leg again; my muscles tensed. ‘I’ve got it all worked out. It’s a simply delightful plan.’ She cocked her head. ‘No, let me rephrase that. Really, it’s more delightfully simple.”

“A gorgeous turquoise eyed blonde came crashing into my life and knocked me off my feet. She's fiery, strong and infuriatingly stubborn. I was hooked. She stained my shirt and stole my heart right in that shop and I haven't been able to get her out of my mind since. She's amazing and I've fallen head over heels in love with her. She's my happily every after.”