Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He whispered in her ear. “He’s not getting near you again, baby, I promise. No one’s laying a finger on you ever again.

You're tough when you need to be, and you can charm the pants off men who have three times your experience. Well, yes. Although I try not to take advantage of that too often. Very awkward negotiating with people who are sitting around in their underwear.

Well, Ma, see... there's this girl." Silence. He checked to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. "You still there, Ma?" A sniffle. "You can't be crying already," he said. "I haven't told you anything about her yet." "It doesn't matter, Nick," his mother said through her tears. "Those are the three words I've been waiting thirty-four years to hear.

I love you,” she said softly. Jason's arms tightened around her. He grinned sleepily. “I know.” Taylor drifted off contentedly. Until through the darkness, she heard a low, sneaky whisper. “Mrs. Taylor Andrews . . .” She didn't bother to open her eyes. “Still not gonna happen.

Now anyone who has ever been on a blind date is well familiar with “The Moment”—that moment where you first walk into the bar or restaurant or coffee shop and scan the crowd and suddenly your heart stops and you say to yourself: oh, please—let it be him.

I heard this theory once that love means your subconscious is attracted to someone else’s subconscious.

My God, Jack - with a look like that, you two should just get a room. And try not to pick the one with a dead body next to it this time.