“ 'Sweet magnetic Jesus on the dashboard. On the table?' ”

“Fixing a sneer on her face, she deliberately lowered her toolbox and let it fall with a terrible clatter. That he jumped like a rabbit under the gun pleased her.“Christ Jesus!” he scraped his chair around, thumped a hand to his heart as if to get it pumping again.“What’s the matter?”“Nothing.” She continued to sneer. “Butterfingers,” she said sweetly and picked up her dented toolbox again. “Give you a start, did I?”“You damn near killed me.”

“Dinner's in one hour. If you're not back, sitting at the table, I'll beat you all unconscious with a spatula.”

“What if there's a fire?" Glenna said sweetly, and Cian merely smiled. "Then I guess you'd better open a window, and fly.”

“He trailed off as he saw the books. Piles and stacks of them beside the sofa, another stack on the coffee table, a sea of them on her dining table.Jesus Christ, Dane, you need treatment.”

“She surrounded herself with books at work and at home. Her living space was a testament to her first and abiding love with shelves jammed with books tables crowded with them. She saw them not only as knowledge entertainment comfort even sanity but as a kind of artful decoration. ”

“She heard music. Angels singing? she thought, dizzy. It seemed odd for angels to sing after table sex. She managed to swallow on a throat wildly dry. "Music," she murmured. "My phone. In my pants. Don't care.""Oh. Not angels." "No. Def Leppard.”