“The perfect I was looking for wasn’t perfection. The perfect I was looking for was the one. And he was you.”

“Jesus, Laurie, baby, look at you." My eyes followed his, mainly because I wanted him to keep at me and I'd do just about anything he told me to do to get it. But what I saw made my heart skip and my legs fail. Tate, dark, tall, behind me, his hands on me; me, blonde, my face flushed, my eyes hooded, tucked tight against him. A perfect fit, made to be there. A perfect match, made to be together. Made to be there. Made to be together. We looked great. We looked hot. We looked beautiful. My eyes went to his in the mirror.”

“In fact, when he wasn’t being a jerk, controlling or a pain in the ass, he looked at me…He looked at me…Oh hell, he looked at me like I was his life.”

“If I could have wished what I thought was my perfect mate on the wind and had her come back to me in a storm, I could never have come up with anything as exquisite as you.”

“I stopped looking around when I heard a soft “mew” and I looked toward Tate to see he was crouched. He straightened and turned to me.I froze and stared.Tatum Jackson, ex-pro football player, ex-cop, now bartender/bounty hunter, tall, beautiful and more man than I’d ever experienced in my life was standing on the edge of his kitchen holding a cat.And it wasn’t just any cat and he wasn’t just holding it. He was cradling it.”

“Shy, she’s yours, that’s what you say. Control your woman,” High demanded. “Get her ass out.”My eyes went to Shy to see him looking at High, and he wasn’t looking pissed. He was looking reflective. Then he said, “Tab and I don’t play it that way. You wanna order your old lady around, do what you do, not for me to say. I asked her to go, she didn’t go. Not gonna make her. But you try, you’ll deal with me.”God, I loved my guy.”

“No wonder. Puerto Rican, Italian and Cuban –the perfect ingredients for a hot, bossy, badass cocktail.”