“Why is it women have to bring all this angst into sex? We should be more like men. In. Out. Over. Next.”

“You can’t just come out and say what you have to say. That’s what people do on airplanes, when a man plops down next to you in the aisle seat of your flight to New York, spills peanuts all over the place (back when the cheapskate airlines at least gave you peanuts), and tells you about what his boss did to him the day before. You know how your eyes glaze over when you hear a story like that? That’s because of the way he’s telling his story. You need a good way to tell your story.”

“Well, they asked for it," Essie said. "People should learn not to mess with the Black women.”

“Hey, I'm still the walking wounded, you know," he protested."You were shot on the other side," Rosie said drily. "And since when do you and Dalton agree on anything?""We are men." Pip and Dalton straightened up. "We settle out differences through fighting and drink." He held up the fine crystal tumbler, then frowned at it. "Though maybe not in this kind of glass.”

“No, she doesn't look like she's from anywhere near Central, does she? You a dirt-muncher too, newbie, fresh off the farm? Or are you more of a river rat?""Why?" Rosie said. "You looking for lost relatives?"Gillian snorted and San's face became an angry shade of puce.”

“You are pure flame. I touch you and I ignite. I kiss you and I burn to have more. You consume me… like no other woman before you, and, I am certain, like no other ever could again.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.”