Frankly, the image of his father wearing bell-bottoms, smoking a joint, and calling his mother a “totally groovy chick” was wrong on so many levels he wanted to erase the whole thing from his memory

I think the first thing we need to talk about is you not running around in tight T-shirts and yoga pants.” “Fine. I’ll stop doing that as soon as you shave.” Jack ran his hand along his jaw and grinned. “You like the scruff, huh?” Did she ever.

Oh God, baby...love me.

He maybe, possibly, said that if he got word of anyone getting in your way, they’d find out whether there was any truth to the rumor about him knowing how to kill a man with paper clips.

Time for Wine Tasting 101. “So here’s how this works. When tasting a wine, as opposed to casual drinking, there are four basic steps you need to remember: sight, smell, taste, then spit or swallow.” Nick paused at that last part and cocked his head. “And your personal preference on the latter would be…?” “Only lightweights spit.” His right eye twitched.

Then she would be done with J. D. Jameson forever. No more having to prove herself; no more of those pesky jitters she felt whenever she saw him at work—something like butterflies in her stomach, it was actually quite annoying; no more stress; no more fights in the library; and definitely no more sexy I’m-gonna-kiss-you-now-woman blue-eyed heated gazes. She had no idea why she just thought that.

It’s because your subconscious finds my subconscious irresistible.