“Jocelyn: 'I've dated a few nice boys. Though if things got serious, I ended it. I didn't want to involve some poor guy in all the stuff I was carrying around.'Noah: 'Excess baggage, you mean?'Jocelyn: 'More like three suitcases, a couple of steamer trunks, and a carry-on.”

“I don't like to share," he murmured. "Braden, I'm not yours.""For the next three months you are. I mean it, Jocelyn. No one else touches you.”

“Slippery slope. I carry a spare shirt, pretty soon I'm carrying spare pants. Then I'd need a suitcase. Next thing I know, I've got a house and a car and a savings plan and I'm filling out all kinds of forms.”

“Baggage is how you carry the good stuff.”

“No. I wanted to tell you that I was proud of you."Clary slewed around to look at her mother. "You were?"Jocelyn nodded. "Of course I was. The way you stood up in front of the Clave like that. The way you showed them what you could do. You made them look at you and see the person they loved most in the world, didn't you?""Yeah," Clary said. "How did you know?""Because I heard them all calling out different names," Jocelyn said softly. "But I still saw you.”

“Seriously, Jack, I think you might be the only guy in this city who hasn’t read his stuff. Collin McCann is like the Carrie Bradshaw of Chicago men.”“You mean Terry Bradshaw,” Jack corrected.“No, Carrie,” Wilkins repeated. “You know, Sarah Jessica Parker. Sex and the City.”A silence fell over the room as Collin and Jack stared at Wilkins, seriously fearing for the fate of men.”