He reclined on a delightfully cushioned lounge in the sprawling ranch Paris had rented. In Dallas, Texas, of all places. Promiscuity had decked himself out, too, wearing a Stetson (weird), no shirt (understandable), unfastened jeans (smart) and cowboy boots (weird again). Dude looked ready to rustle cattle or something.

Being with a man incapable of telling a lie – a whole lot of awesome. Being with a man who could taste when you lied – sucked the big one.

Don't kill the messenger, but I'm think you should change your dating profil to balding." -- Paris to William

To you I belong.My heart beats only for you.No other will tempt me,from this day and beyond.To you I belong.

The devil on my right shoulder must have brutally strangled the angel on my left.

Should I pull on a shirt?" he asked with hint of amusement. I WILL NOT BLUSH. "No." He'd be doing the world a favor if he never wore a shirt again, but I wasn't going to tell him that part. "You're fine.

There was something so best-musical-ever when people screamed and begged for mercy, and she could listen to a good musical all day.