Cathy

“I start to drift back to sleep when my traitorous nose sends SOS signals to my stomach about the bacon-filled air floating under my door. Being the little bitch my stomach is, she betrays me in the nastiest way and grumbles loudly, churning in on herself, begging for a slice of bacon.”
― Meghan Quinn, My Best Friend's Ex

“Shemar Moore is so hot,” Clove laughed. “He is. They should make the entire show about him solving cases with his shirt off.”
― Amanda M. Lee, Any Witch Way You Can

“Danny . . . dearest man who serves me booze. Do you see the way my eyes are flitting back and forth? Can you feel the crazy exuding from them?” He nods, swallowing hard. “This is my third date here, okay? This is my third time trying to find somebody to love me after two failed attempts from this supposedly perfect matchmaking system. I’m feeling a little out of control, mildly psychotic, and you know what, I will just say it, slightly turned on.” Shit, I didn’t want to say that to Danny. Shaking that thought, I continue, “So please be a gent, and scamper behind your little bar and give me more whiskey. Got it?”
― Meghan Quinn, Three Blind Dates

“Oh my GOD! He’s coming over to your house, isn’t he? I can smell it. I can smell the promise of sweaty, hot hockey sex in the air.” “What’s hockey sex?” Alex asks. “You know . . . the kind where he rips her clothes off, lifts her above his head, and eats her out while spinning around the room like he’s on the ice.” “That’s not fucking hockey sex. That’s figure-skating sex. Hockey sex is more like she holds pucks over her nipples while he fucks her on the bench in”
― Meghan Quinn, Three Blind Dates