“I have a real low tolerance for parasites, and you're so close to the limit that I'm already reaching for the flea powder.”

“He lifted the arm covering his eyes and turned his head to glare at her. "I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you.""What do you mean, trouble?" She sat up, glaring back at him. "I am not trouble! I'm a very nice person except when I have to deal with jerks!""You're the worst kind of trouble," he snapped. "You're marrying trouble.”

“He snorted. "They were probably scared.""Scared!" For some reason, that hurt, just a little. She felt her lower lip wobble. "I'm not that bad, am I?""Worse," he said cheerfully. "You're hell on wheels. You're just lucky I like hot rods”

“What good is having a friend who's a cop if he won't give me inside information?""So you can ask him to look at a piece of shit pistol after you've already bought it, and pronounce it a piece of shit.”

“Luna was remote and ladylike. The only time anyone had ever seen Luna angry was when someone referred to her as 'African-American'."I'm an American," she had snapped, whirling on the offender. "I've never even been to Africa. I was born in California, my father was a major in the Marine Corps, and I'm not a hyphenated anything. I have a black heritage, but I also have a white one." She had held out one slim arm and studied the color of it. "Looks to me like I'm brown. We're all just different shades of brown,so don't try to set me apart.”

“Okay, you're right; she's so hot I could walk on three legs every time I see her.""Now you're talkin'.""I'll break your back and chop off your legs if you call her.""That's my boy!”

“Is it time for your period, or something?" With unerring instinct, he'd found a great big red button, and pushed it. Wyatt fights to win, which means he fights dirty. I understand the concept because that's how I fight, too, but understanding it didn't stop me from reacting. I could practically feel my blood bubbling with steam. "What?" He turned around, all controlled aggression, and damned if he didn't push the button again. "What is it about having a period that makes women so bitchy?" ... It was an effort, but I said as sweetly as possible, "It isn't that we're bitchier, it's that having a period makes us feel all tired and achy, so we have less tolerance for all the bullshit we normally SUFFER IN SILENCE." By the time the sentence ended the sweetness was long gone, my jaw was clenched, and I think my eyes were bugging out. Wyatt took a step back, belatedly looking alarmed.”