“Never agree to marry a man because he has potential. Men are not houses, they do not make good fixer-uppers.”

“All you have to do is take a man at face value. Don't go into it thinking you can change them. Men aren't fixer-uppers, not like a house or a car. You buy them as is.”

“Why do we always fight?” she whispered.“You know why.” Yeah, she did. “It’s science.” “Combustible chemistry,” he agreed. “Dangerous.”

“This one's good. 'Don't expect a man with a hard-on to be able to think. He doesn't have enough blood to run both heads.' Hmmm." He shot her a wicked grin over his shoulder. "I do. Want to see?”

“She closed her eyes. “Okay, here’s the thing. We have some chemistry,” she allowed.“Some? Or supernova?”“Supernova. But,” she said to his knowing grin. Good Lord, he needed to stop doing that. “I really did give up men.”“Forever?”“My gut says yes, but that might be PMS talking. Let’s just say I’m giving up men for a very long time.”“You going to try out women?”

“But you make of it [life] what you can, and you do your best to enjoy the hell out of it, because it's the only life you get.”

“I'm keeping a list of Mr. Wrongs going for you. This one might not make it to the weekend's auction.""Stop," said another woman."I'm just kidding.""I still vote we strip him down." This was a third woman.Wait. Three women? Had he died and gone to orgy heaven? Awake now, Ty took stock. He wasn't dead. And he had no idea who the fuck Mr. Wrong was, but he was very much "going to make it." He was stuffed in the back of a car, a small car, his bad leg cramping like a son-of-a-bitch. His head was pillowed on...he shifted to try to figure it out, and pain lanced straight through his eyeballs. He licked dry lips and tried to focus. "I'm okay.""Good," one of them repeated with humor. "He's fine, he's okay. He's also bleeding like a stuck pig. Men are ridiculous."-Ty and the Chocoholics ladies”