Ava

“Yes, I was a twenty-nine year old woman who lived with her mother. One who didn’t do drugs, party, or have sex. I read books, drank the occasional beer on a hot afternoon, and did the Times crossword puzzle on Sunday afternoons. I hadn’t attended college, I wasn’t particularly gorgeous, and I often forgot to shave my legs. On the upside, I could cook some mean dumplings and bring myself to orgasm within five minutes. Not at the same time, mind you. I wasn’t that talented.”
― Alessandra Torre, Hollywood Dirt

“Lev Leokov was an open book. I only needed to discover the language in which his pages were written.”
― Belle Aurora, Lev

“You added the feeding pillow to the list?” he asks as we turn down the nursing aisle.

“I told you I did.” I look down at the iPad though to make sure I really did. (I did.)

When I look up again, he’s holding up the two pumps from a double electric breast pump on display to his chest. “Please, please, please can we get these?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. Are you twelve?” I don’t mention his second slip of the word “we.”

“This is like having a video game on your chest.” He pretends to shoot the pumps in my direction.

I snatch one out of his hand. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like.”

“I’d never leave my house.” He’s examining the remaining pump, as if trying to figure out how he could make one of his own.

“You’d never leave the house if you had breasts, period.” I grab the second one from him and return it to the shelf.

He stands over my shoulder to look at the screen of the registry iPad. “Put it on the list. Put it on. Put. It. On.”

Shaking my head, I add it to the list.”
― Laurelin Paige, Hot Cop

“His hold was tight but tender, his breaths hoarse and ragged. I held his head to my chest for a long time, and I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to let go.”
― Darynda Jones, The Dirt on Ninth Grave