He wasn't that good looking, he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird

Kiss me....Cassie....Like you mean it.

You decent?” I pulled the towel up a little higher. “Yes, if my wrinkled toes don’t offend.” Marco’s swarthy head popped around the doorjamb. “Naw, they’re cute.

They-" He stopped and just blinked at me for a minute. "You know, people are always saying that you're cuckoo. Looney Tunes. Off the freaking edge. But I tell 'em, no, she's okay. She's got some...anger management issues. But you know what? They're right. You're nuts.

What?” I said defensively, clutching the mink and my dignity. Since I was barefoot, mostly naked and completely hungover, I was pretty sure I grasped only one of them.

He had the look of an atheist who’d just had a visit from God: stunned, disbelieving and faintly ill.

Louis-Cesare. It's good to finally have you in hand.