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What was worse, he couldn't tell her how much he thought he maybe might kinda sorta love her.

Gena Showalter

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Gena Showalter
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Oklahoma
United States
Might
Much
Sorta
Love
Kinda
Worse
Couldn
Maybe
Tell
Thought

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You are mine, woman, and I am yours. Until you, my life was desolate. I existed, but I didn't truly live. Now I live, even in my death.
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I'm William, but you can call me Sexy. Everyone does.
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Strider: Red hots dude. He'd ruin anything for a mouthful of those. Now pull over. William: Gummy Bears. You should have said so.
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This means nothing,” she said. “Less than nothing,” he lied. “I’ll hate myself later.” “I hate myself now.
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There was a pause, static, a muttered Give me that, by an indignant female. Then the normally quiet reserved Ashlyn was demanding, Did you just drunk dial my husband? Yes, ma'am, Strider said, and the other two finally burst into laughter.
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He was royalty. So what? Everyone had a flaw.
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Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a can of Mace in one hand and pepper spray in the other.” - Katie Jorlan's expression turned mocking. “Just in case you get any ideas, know that I’ll be sleeping with a feather in one hand and massage oil in the other.
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Being with a man incapable of telling a lie – a whole lot of awesome. Being with a man who could taste when you lied – sucked the big one.
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See? This was how he’d gotten me to fall in love with him. At times like this he made me feel like the most treasured woman in the world. “So you don’t remember doing this to me? Naked? In the shower? On the bed? On the floor?” With Matt Damon? Okay, how had the Sarah Silverman video gotten in my head, now of all times?
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For gods' sake, Strider, Torin snapped. Open your mouth and form some words. While you're at it, stop staring at the angel like he's a tasty treat.
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