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352 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published February 3, 2015





"You are one steaming hot mess, aren't you?"
"If only my therapist offered such candid assessments. Incidentally, I'd be grateful if you kept this to yourself."
I'll bet you would.
"Man, I had you pegged way wrong."


“Sex is one of a very few things in this world that I prefer dirty, Ms. Harper.”

“You are one steaming hot mess, aren’t you?”
“My God,” she murmured, riveted. “You can fuck.”
She hadn't been honest and simply said, “I don’t want a man who’ll make me happy. I want to feel relief when things end, not grief. Why would anyone choose grief?” Regrets were ugly, but they scattered like ashes soon enough. It was attachment you had to look out for. Affection. Love. There was a certain line, where emotions were concerned, past which experiences ripened to memories, and it couldn’t be passed over lightly. Love had bones to it. Solid, rattling things bent on cluttering you up long after the soft parts melted into the ether. You had to carry those bones around with you. Make room for them, dust them, trip over them.
“You hide a lot of secrets behind all that tailoring.” Strip me bare , he thought. Take me apart. See me as no one else ever has, then tell me good-bye. He couldn’t live this way; couldn’t be with a woman and show this much, give this much . . .
"I suppose that's fair. I'm exceedingly difficult to date."
"Oh yeah?"
"I possess a winning combination of impossibly high standards and stunted empathy."
"I'm not offended by germs so much as I am perfection."
"Enjoy your life." he said, not looking back. "I was an idiot to hope I'd ever have a place in it."