A thong. God bless the thong. He hooked his fingers in the silk sides and tugged, rolling the silk down her legs until it hit the floor, his favorite place for panties.

He didn't see anything." She rolled to her feet. "I was in your bed! We could have scarred him for life!" "Grace, we weren't doing anything. Well, I wasn't. You were snoring." "I don't--" She smoothed her dress down and searched out her sandals, shoving her feet into them. She glanced at herself in the mirror over his dresser and groaned. Hair, wild. Lips, swollen. Face, flushed. Nipples, hard. "Dammit!" She clapped her hands over them. "It's like they're broken!

Accept that some days you’re the bug, and some days you’re going to be the windshield.

Logan, why aren't you wearing protection?" The radio crackled, and then came Logan's voice. "I have 'protection' in my bag," he said. "But as much as I don't want to say this, darlin', now's not the time to be asking if I'm carrying condoms. I have problems." "A life vest, Logan! I'm asking where's your life vest!" "Oh," he said. "I knew that.

Remember, you’re unique. And so is everyone else.

All you have to do is take a man at face value. Don't go into it thinking you can change them. Men aren't fixer-uppers, not like a house or a car. You buy them as is.

How about we give each other everything we can and not blame each other for what we can’t.