“Oh God, my chin. I have a cluster of five hairs on the left side of my chin. They’re coarse and wiry, like boar hair, and for the past couple of years, they’ve been my hideous secret and my sworn enemies. They sprout up every couple of days, and so I have to be vigilant. I keep my weapons—Revlon tweezers and a 10X magnifying mirror—at home, in my Sherpa bag, and in my desk drawer at work, so in theory, I can be anywhere, and if one of those evil little weeds pokes through the surface, I can yank it. I’ve been in meetings with CEOs, some of the most powerful men in the world, and could barely stay focused on what they were saying because I’d inadvertently touched my chin and become obsessed with the idea of destroying five microscopic hairs. I hate them, and I’m terrified of someone else noticing them before I do, but I have to admit, there is almost nothing more satisfying than pulling them out.I stroke my chin, expecting to feel my Little Pig beard, but touch only smooth skin. My leg feels like a farm animal, which suggests I haven’t shaved in at least a week, but my chin is bare, which would put me in this bed for less than two days. My body hair isn’t making any sense.”

“Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin”

“I growl with frustration at my reflection in the mirror. Damn my hair – it’s fifty shades of fucked up. The situation I’m in is fifty shades of fucked up. I’m supposed to be studying for my finals; my roommate, Kathleen, should be the one fussing with her hair in front of the mirror right now. Instead, I’m trying to brush my hair into submission. Why is my hair so kinky? I need to stop sleeping with it wet, because it always ends up out of control. As I brush my long, brown hair, the girl in the mirror with blue eyes too big for her head stares back at me. Wait...I don’t have blue eyes! Then I realize I haven’t been looking into the mirror. I’ve been staring at a poster of Kristen Stewart for five minutes. My own hair is actually fine.”

“I shaved my lady mustache (ladystache) off with my roommate's gay razor (it's a gay razor because it's his razor and he's gay) and now I have man-stubble on my upper lip. Then to make it just a tiny bit sexier I broke out where I shaved. So now I have an acne mustache. I should have left it alone. Like I do with the beard. The Korean ladies at the nail place were right. "You too much hair. You do mustache and arms and chin and back and neck. Please. Too much hair, lady-man.”

“Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver.I looked up. 'What the heck are you doing?''Helping you change your mind,' he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.”

“What I’m not confident in is my ability to resist what Cash isn’t even trying to hide.He’s interested in me. And not just as an employee. Maybe very little as an employee, in fact. Every time my eyes meet his, I feel like he’s undressing me. And, God help me, I love it. Those sexy, velvety eyes are like a touch. I can almost feel them, like hands on my body and lips on my mouth.Admittedly, I have a thing for bad boys, but Cash is…I don’t know. He’s different. I daresay he’s even more dangerous than my usual disastrous finds.”