“Which one are you?" I whispered. "What?" he asked. "Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?" His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it." There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".”

“I used to tell your mother she looked like Sophia Lauren." He looks at me, frowning, and then it registers. "Oh God, some guy's using that line on you, isn't he?""Not just 'some guy'." I tell him. "The guy.”

“Why don't you write a story for me?”“Really?” I squeaked. “Um, what about?”“Well, something with a good guy and a bad guy and a hot chick.”…”Okay, anything else?”“The hot chick has to have pretty blonde hair and kickass blue eyes,”….”And the good guy is a musically talented man who is incredibly sexy...?”He grinned and kissed me. “Not at all – that's the bad guy. And I don't care if he wins or loses – that doesn't make a difference.” He shifted and hovered over me, kissing me again – and again and again and again...His lips lingered over mine as he whispered: “I just want the bad guy to get the girl.”

“-Who's that guy?-What guy?-The one I saw go up the stairs to your room with you.-Oh, that guy.”

“Ask any guy if sex is important in a relationship and the one who says no is lying. I just haven't met that guy yet. When you meet him, let's get him in to the Smithsonian - he's that special and rare.”

“Brendan's not the guy you use to figure your shit out, Brendan's the guy you hope you get once you have figured your shit out.”