“Why are you looking at me I'm chocolate cake and you're PMSing?”

“Collapsing over her, breathing like a freight train, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, "Name's Tim. Nice to meet you.”

“She loved hockey. Loved the speed, the agility. The fights. The men. Brawny, sweaty, messy. They let their hair grown, though no one would ever accuse them of being feminine, not with perpetual five o'clock shadow and bulging muscles. They skated with the grace of ballet dancers and fought at the drop of a glove.”

“Sure, she’d come across one or two things she couldn’t explain. Cold spots, disembodied voices, Lady Gaga. Unfortunately, Bigfoot was not one of them.”

“You know, you're hot and you've got that badass manly man thing going and I'm crazily attracted to you, but honestly, I suspect you're going to be a little too bossy for my tastes. Thanks for the offer on the whole love-me-die-for-me thing, but I'll pass.”

“You can deal with the brain, as I say; it looks sensible, whereas the heart, the human heart, I'm afraid, looks a fucking mess.”

“I'm sorry," he says."What? Why?""You're fixing everything I set down." He nods at my hands, which are readjusting the elephant. "It wasn't polite of me to come in and start touching your things.""Oh, it's okay," I say quickly, letting go of the figurine. "You can touch anything of mine you want."He freezes. A funny look runs across his face before I realize what I've said. I didn't mean it like that.Not that that would be so bad.”