“He’s not a food fascist,” I say, feeling an immediate need to defend Eric. “He just…cares about nutrition.” “He’s Hitler. If he could round up every loaf of bread and put it in a camp, he would.”

“To be honest, going out with Ed after Josh is like moving on to Duchy Originals super-tasty seeded loaf after plastic white bread. (I don't mean to be rude about Josh. And I didn't realize it at the time. But it is. He is. Plastic white bread.)”

“He leans forward and his mouth brushes brieflyagainst mine, and I feel... nothing.I was hoping our first kiss would trigger all sorts of memories or sensations, maybe a sudden image of Paris or our wedding, or our first snog. But as he draws away I feel totally, one hundred percent blank.I can see the anticipation in Eric's face and quickly search for something encouraging to say."That was lovely! Very..." I trail off, unable to think of a single word other than quick, which I'm not sure hits the right note. "It didn't bring back any memories?" Eric is studying my face."Well...no," I say apologetically. "But, I mean, that doesn't mean it wasn't really... I mean it was... I feel quite turned on!" The words come out before I can stop them.What the hell did I say that for? I don't feel turned on."Really?" Eric lights up and he puts his briefcase down.Oh no. No no no. Nooo.”

“You know what Hans told me last week?" she says as I open the door of my fitting room. "He told me to write down a list of everything I wanted to say about that women-and then tear it up. He said I'd feel a sense of freedom.""Oh right," I say interestedly. "So what happened?" "I wrote it all down," says Laurel. "And then I mailed it to her!”

“Becky . . .” Luke looks at me carefully. “Have you ever been on a horse in your life?”“Yes! Of course I have!”Once. When I was ten. And I fell off.But I probably wasn’t concentrating or something.“Just be careful, won’t you?” he says. “I’m not quite ready to become a widower.”

“It’s the way he had a cup of tea waiting for me when I woke up. It’s the way he turned on his laptop especially for me to look up all my Internet horoscopes and helped me choose the best one. He knows all the crappy, embarrassing bits about me that I normally try to hide from any man for as long as possible… and he loves me anyway.”

“You’re perfect,’ he says almost fiercely. ‘You don’t need to change one hair. One freckle. One little toe.And if it’s me that’s made you feel you should do this … then there’s something wrong with me.”