“The moment the door opened I knew an ass-kicking was inevitable. Whether I'd be giving it or receiving it was still a bit of a mystery.”

“Kicking ass is surprisingly therapeutic”

“He’d hung up. The words end call printed across the screen on my phone confirmed it. At least a minute later my bedroom door swung open to smack against my knees and Marc stuck his head around the edge to see what he’d hit. He found me still staring at my phone my robe gaping open across one thigh. “You have to push the buttons to make that work ” he said his expression completely serious. “Thanks smart-ass.”

“You soft-skulled, marbel-balled motherf*cker. I´m going to kick your ass next time I see it.” Cam laughed. “You know, my grandmother always said no woman with a decent vocabulary would resort to profanity.” Kori huffed. “My grandmother said, ´Get the hell out of my house, bitch, before I throw you out on your ass.”“Well, you did set the kitchen on fire. Twice. With her in it.”“I fail to see how the facts are relevant here.”

“Leave the door open," my dad said, the second most common warning in his arsenal. Right behind, "Nash, go home.”

“I recognize no other kind of ass.”

“It's suspiciously quiet in here, and there's a Tod shaped dent in the bean bag. For the sake of both my sanity and my temper, I'm going to pretend I can't tell that you're in his lap, so could you pretend that this is still my house and you are still my daughter, and I'm within my parental rights to kick your boyfriend out after 11:00 p.m.?”