...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.

Peter is ... adjusting. He's back in school, and he's doing quite well. I wish you could find it in your heart to forgive him." "I've got this funny resentful streak about people who try to kill me.

Love... doesn't happen every day. It doesn't happen at all for some people

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

I noticed you right away." She gave me an approving look. "I like quiet, polite men. And men who wear Hugo Boss. I was hoping you weren't gay. Or that you were only half-gay. Like Paul." "Uh...sorry," I said. "It's pretty much full-time now. The pay's not great, but the perks...

Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.

And why is it the best looking ones are always straight?