When I love, I love hard. You’re stuck with me for good. In your news report, you didn’t say what happened at the end of the bumpy ride. You didn’t say what it takes to break the curse. But I know. True Love. the kind that doesn’t go away because of a few disasters along the way. I love you, Melissa.

I had to stop him from arresting an old lady who let her dog urinate against the fire hydrant that was in front of Burgerville headquarters."You'll blow our cover.""But what if there is a fire?""The fire department will come and put it out," I said."With what?""Water," I said."Not from that hydrant," Monk said. "It's inoperable.""No, it's not," I said. "It can still be used.""There is urine all over it," Monk said. "no fireman would dare touch it, nor would any other human being.""Firefighters run into burning buildings," I said."They aren't going to care about some dog pee on a fire hydrant.""They would if they knew," Monk said. "We should call and warn them. Call Joe right now. He can get the word out faster than we can.""Every fire hydrant in the city has dog pee on it, Mr. Monk. It's how dogs mark their territory. I can guarantee you that every male dog that has passed that hydrant has pissed on it."He looked at me, wide eyed, "No.""It's what dogs do," I said. "The firefighters knows this."Monk swallowed hard. "And they still use the hydrants?""Of course they do.""They are the bravest men on earth," Monk said solemnly.

He was my age and in my imagination he was a fireman, not the kind that actually fights fires but the kind who travels the country shirtless posing for calendars.

Take me inside. Show me if a fireman knows how to start a fire.

Her breathing hitched and his all but seized in his lungs for the want of her, the taste of her, the feel of her under his hands. His lips whispered against the curve of hers, where her cheek ended and her very sexy mouth began.

Tell me to stop, Sugar, or I'm going to start a firestorm of emotion neither one of us will know how to handle." She smiled. "I've always loved storms." He jerked her face closer and her heart rate kicked up. "Then it's time you were introduced to a Florida hurricane.

Quick! What aisle are the douches in? I've got three bitches at the beach cottage and they all stick to high heaven."... "You do carry Massengill, don't you? That's the best brand, according to my research." "Ah..." What kind of man researches douches? A man who goes to bed with three women... "Would you mind checking your inventory in the back? I'll need more." "I'm not allowed to leave the register, but I'll be happy to page our stock boy." Douche-man grunted and flipped the package around. "It's gonna take at least two boxes for Loa. She's big. Got wide hips. Skinny legs, though. Kinda like a twenty-gallon tank on toothpicks.

You always were the hot head. You got a temper in you that can't be tamed, yet you also got a soft spot for stray dogs, kids in trouble and damsels in distress. See why folks label you a complex conundrum.

A smart woman knows when to listen to her man." Her man? "He is most definitely not my man. He's not my type." "Type? If he was any more your type, he'd have you sitting in his lap.

Ice Man, his friends had called him. She'd give him a different nickname, like Sex on a Stick or Horny Toad.

She tugged on his hair. "I'll have you know I'm no weakling." He grinned and kissed her forehead. "No, it takes a strong woman to kill a truck.

Every so often, in the midst of chaos, you come across an amazing, inexplicable instance of civic responsibility. Maybe the last shred of faith people have is in their firemen.

It turns out that I learned something from my dear old dad after all: firemen are experts at getting into places they shouldn't be.