Single Minded Quotes

He stops rocking and looks into my eyes. We’re inches apart and I’m mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes. A girl could drown in those eyes. And it wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

The fish is that perfect, amazing guy it can never work out with—you know, a bird and a fish may fall in love—but where would they live? . . . So the fish is your total dream guy, he’s smart, he’s handsome, he gets all your jokes, he loves to talk, he gives you a nine-hour orgasm and then makes you homemade chocolate chip pancakes and serves you breakfast in bed—but he lives all the way across the country and neither of you can move, or he’s married, or next in line for the throne, or he has a terminal disease or something . . . the fish.

He swims easily to the side of the boat and pulls himself up on the ladder, water droplets clinging to his chest and abs. Still hanging on to the rope, he brings himself effortlessly over the side of the railing and onto the deck. His khaki shorts are completely soaked through, and they hang low and loosely on his hips. I have to force myself, consciously, not to ogle him.

It’s like I’m suddenly a hormonally charged teenager or living in a bad romance novel: I suddenly can’t stop myself from noticing every man around me. Which means that Darcy, Samantha, and Michael are probably right. Plus, there was that disturbing dream about Voldemort this morning. I need to lose my gay-husband virginity before I lose my mind entirely. I need to find someone to sleep with me. And the fact that I don’t have the faintest idea how to make that happen is just further proof that it needs to.—SINGLE-MINDED

I rock in his arms under the stars and the blanket of night air, unwilling or unable to tear myself away.

I’d like to say I’m not dressed up for anyone in particular, but that would be a lie.

Dance, cher?” he asks, his blue eyes playful. I nod and he pulls me gently into his arms. He’s warm. We sway to the music and the gentle rocking of the boat. His hand rests on the small of my back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected and adored all at once.

Don’t you worry, darlin’,” he says, his intensely blue eyes full of mischief. “I like surprises

Well, that explains the dreamy accent. And why transvestites would make him feel homesick.—SINGLE-MINDED

You’ll never get a new ending if you keep starting with the same tired beginning.

I linger too long in his embrace; the night is so warm, the rocking of the boat so lulling, I have to stop myself from swaying to the music. Daniel smells really good—a masculine cocktail of saltwater, citrus, and probably just full-on testosterone.

You know that feeling when you’re suddenly startled out of a deep sleep, and you’re in that hazy middle world where you’re not sure what’s real—like maybe you actually could be chasing after an ice cream truck wearing only fishing waders and a canary yellow bridesmaid’s dress, or you’re just one answer away from winning a year’s supply of adult diapers on a Japanese game show?—SINGLE-MINDED

Daniel reaches out and grabs my hand to steady me. His skin is warm and soft, and holding his hand sends an electric sensation up my right arm. He holds my hand firmly until I regain my balance, which takes me a heartbeat longer than it should have.“Thanks for keeping me from falling,” I say. He smiles warmly. “Sometimes we just can’t stop ourselves from falling, cher.

Do you have one where you’re riding a horse or a camel? Or sitting on a rocket ship? Those are always wildly popular with men looking for sex.—SINGLE-MINDED

He gently takes the lead, and I trail behind him up the narrow spiral stairway at the back of the kitchen. His hand is warm, and holding it feels like the easiest thing in the world. Too easy. I’m going to get myself in trouble.