I kinda felt like the first slice of bread in the bag. Everyone touched me, but no one wanted me.

Hazard of the job. That's Ode de Anal Gland you smell.

Just about every available female--and some unavailable--seemed to think the way to his heart was through his blood sugar levels.

That dress was designed to be a kill switch for rational thought.

They were the right counterbalance to one another.

Delicately, she parted her lips, swept them against his, and kissed first his top, then the bottom. Letting her lead, he pinched his brows together and held still. She didn’t come at him with fire. She told him a story. And he’d be damned if it didn’t start with once upon a time like she were proving he was some kind of hero. Specifically, hers.