Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. I think everyone should have lots of delicious romance novels lying around for those times when the peanut butter of life gets stuck to the roof of your mouth.

Here's a basic difference between Morelli and me. My first thought was always of cake. His first thought was always of sex. Don't get me wrong. I like sex . . . a lot. But it's never going to replace cake.

He [Ranger] peeled my [Stephanie] clothes off and wrangled me into bed. And then suddenly he was inside me. He once told me that time spent with him would ruin me for all other men. When he said it, I thought it was an outrageous threat. I no longer though it outrageous.

Ranger locked eyes with me. "Please," he said.
Tank and Hal were goggle-eyed. They weren't used to "please." I wasn't used to it either. But I liked it.
Okay," I said. "Be careful. He's insane.

Either get out of bed or else take your clothes off," he said. "I'm not in the mood to compromise.

If I gave you a pity position it wouldn't be in my office.