I looked from one to the other, and realized that Barrons and my dad were having one of those wordless conversations he and I have from time to time. Though the language was, by nature, foreign to me, I grew up in the Deep South where a man’s ego is roughly the size of his pickup truck, and women get an early and interesting education in the not-so-subtle roar of testosterone.

Being nearly naked around Barrons felt a lot like going to a shark convention lightly basted in blood.

Driving a hot car is a lot like sex to me, or a lot like I keep thinking sex should be: A total body experience, overwhelming, to all the senses, taking you places you've never been, packing a punch that leaves you breathless and touches your soul. The Viper was way more satisfying then my last boyfriend.

Omnipotent not omniscient. We are frequently blinded by how much we see.

Beautiful women rarely possess sufficient depth of character to survive without their pretty feathers.

This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I would have chosen. You must know that. It's important you know that.

If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?