Ty:"It sounds pretty when you say it, but I have no clue what the hell you're talking about."
Imogen:"It's Shakespeare," she said.
Ty:"Well, I was pretty sure it wasn't Kenny Chesney.

Imogen looked at Ty, at the one man who could halt her stone-cold logic and make her just feel.... She needed that, to be caught off guard, to learn to trust her first gut reaction to her emotions. There had been no hesitation on her part - he had asked and her heart had sung out a big fat yes.

I mean, it's okay if you're the one with the low sex drive. We'll just have to adjust and learn to accommodate that.

I was born without the flirt gene. It's truly awful for me." That was no exaggeration. " I mean, look at how I screwed up last night with Ty. He was flirting and tossing off sexual innuendos, and I just looked at him and said I would not have anal sex with him."

"You what?" Suzanne shrieked so loud that Imogen saw half a dozen other fitness patrons swivel their heads to look at them. "Did he ask you to? At the party?"

"No, of course not." Which was what made it all the more ridiculous. "We were in the car and he was hinting about positions, what was to come, etc., and I just blurted out that I wasn't doing that with him."

"Girl..." was Suzanne's though on the matter, her expression one of total horror. "Do not bring up the back door unless he's knocking on it.

You need to decide whether you're willing to risk being hurt, plain and simple. You can go for it and have a wonderful relationship. Or you might go for it and crash and burn brilliantly. It's up to you if you want to take that risk, up to you if it's worth it or not.

But the truth is, I want to be some woman's work boots, not her high heels."
"Work boots?" What was sexy about that? And did women have work boots?
"Yeah. You know, the boots she pulls out when she wants to get down and dirty, hiking or gardening or boating or painting the kitchen. The ones she relies on and trusts and lives her life hard and good and on her terms in. Her favorites.