“I have brain damage, remember? I'm not responsible for my actions--or for the actions of my hand, which acted of its own volition and without my knowledge.' Cam to Bailey”

“I loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid, into so much mischiefit's a wonder my hair didn't turn prematurely gray. I loved you when youwere a teenager with long, skinny legs and eyes that broke my heartevery time I looked at you. I love you now that you're a woman whomakes my brain go soft, my legs go weak, and my dick get hard. Whenyou walk into a room, my heart damn near jumps out of my chest. Whenyou smile, I feel as if I've won a Nobel Prize. And your eyes stillbreak my heart.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Don’t kiss me,” she said warningly.“I don’t intend to,” he replied, smiling a little. “I don’t have my whip and chair with me.”

“Well, you've done it now," was her sisterlyopening shot.Jaine rubbed between her eyebrows; a definite headache was forming. After the exchange withDavid, she waited to see where this one was going."I won't be able to hold up my head in church.""Really? Oh, Shelley, I'm so sorry," Jaine said sweetly. "I didn't realize you have the dreadedLimp Neck disease. When were you diagnosed?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said, wheezing with the effort it took to controlhimself. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You littleinnocent. I’m fluent in French, but it isn’t my first language.” Itwas plain by the mortified expression in those green eyes that shedidn’t understand, so he explained. “Baby , if I can still thinkclearly enough to speak French, then I’m not totally involved inwhat I’m doing. It may sound pretty , but it doesn’t meanany thing. Men are different from women; the more excited we are,the more like cavemen we sound. I could barely speak English withyou, much less French. As I remember, my vocabularydeteriorated to a few short, explicit words, ‘fuck’ being the mostprominent.”To his amazement, she blushed, and he smiled at this furtherevidence of her charming prudery. “Go to sleep,” he said gently.“Lindsey didn’t even rate a replay.”