Kendra

“You probably don’t remember this, and I’m not bringing it up now to embarrass you, but last night you told me that you’d fantasized about me. Well, the feeling’s mutual. You’ve been driving me crazy since the day you moved in. I have made love to you in my mind more than I’m comfortable admitting. But it’s not just about sex. I want to take you out. I want to tuck Annie into her bed at night and read her a bedtime story. I want to sit across from you at the table and watch you smile at something I’ve said. In case I’m not making myself clear, I want to date you, Miracle Emily Grant. You and your daughter.” “Oh.” Emily blushed a fiery red, but didn’t comment further.”
― Susan Stoker, Rescuing Emily

“Lord love a duck, he was lethal.”
― Susan Stoker, Rescuing Emily

“I wasn’t meant to sit at a desk in a formal office environment, doing reports for others. I was meant to sit at a desk in the comfort of my home (or more realistically, my couch) while I wrote about fictional characters falling in love and doin’ it.”
― Andrea Andersen, Written by a Woman

“Pen, you really shouldn’t use the same password for all your accounts. I’ve headed off three hackers in the last week who would’ve gotten into your PayPal, bank, and electric company accounts.” “What?” Penelope was obviously confused at the change in subject, but Cade merely relaxed back in his seat and kept his eyes on Beth as she fidgeted uncomfortably. “Using PenisGod isn’t a good username for things like Amazon and eBay. And you really need to delete your craigslist account because calling yourself a penis god is only attracting weirdos. You probably don’t even remember you had that old ad up when you were trying to sell your bicycle. Well, it’s one of the most clicked-on ads on the site for San Antonio. I’m not exaggerating either. You had four hundred and sixty-nine messages—and I’m not even going to comment on the sixty-nine thing. But three hundred and fourteen of those contained pictures of men’s dicks. Fifty-seven contained marriage proposals, most from overseas; twenty-seven were from women who were interested in a threesome with you, fifty-five were spam, people trying to get you to click on links or buy some crap product, and the remaining sixteen emails were religious in nature, telling you to repent for your soul.” “I should probably be pissed you got into my account, but I trust you, so I’m not. But it’s not penis god!” Penelope exclaimed huffily. “It’s Pen IS God.” Cade burst out laughing. “Seriously, sis? Penis god? Just wait until the guys hear this!”
― Susan Stoker, Shelter for Elizabeth