He leaned forward and bit her bottom lip. It was just the right size. He hated women with thin, judgmental lips. Smeared with dark red lipstick. Stingy and manipulative. Bev’s mouth looked ripe and vulnerable. He sucked on that soft lower lip for a few seconds.

I don’t want to see Bev get hurt. Not after all those years of shoveling Roger’s shit, and um…this is awkward. I’m just wondering—” “I’m keeping her,” Tom finally said with exasperation. John choked on his beer. “You’re keeping her?” “That’s what I said.” “Does she know you’re keeping her?” “Nope. Not yet. Keep it under your hat.” “No problem. Good luck.” “I don’t need any goddamned luck. I got daisies.

Ami leaned into his side and inhaled the fresh scent of man. “Uh, no. Sometimes my biological clock threatens to explode like a ticking bomb, that’s all. Rachel is so lucky. Nat is a doll. Doug adores them. Don’t mind me, I’m just wishing my laundry pile was filled with boxer shorts and Cinderella T-shirts. I’ll get over it.”“Why do you have to get over it,” Marcus asked gently. “Sounds like a nice dream to me.” ...a few pages laterThings were looking up. If he could just convince her his boxer shorts belonged in her laundry basket, he’d be right on board with her six-month plan