Time for Wine Tasting 101. “So here’s how this works. When tasting a wine, as opposed to casual drinking, there are four basic steps you need to remember: sight, smell, taste, then spit or swallow.” Nick paused at that last part and cocked his head. “And your personal preference on the latter would be…?” “Only lightweights spit.” His right eye twitched.
Listen and learn: you need fourteen characters, minimum. Use random letters, not words. Here’s a tip: think of a sentence, and use the first letter in each of those words. Mix it up between upper and lower case. Then pick two numbers that mean something to you – not dates – and stick them somewhere between the letters. Put a punctuation mark at the beginning of the password and then a symbol, like a dollar sign, at the end.
Jack leaned over, “Ever get the impression that these women are way out of our league?” “I shot the last guy who said that to me.
He looked again. Longer this time. She may have ‘forgotten’ to put a bra on that morning. Another oops. “Are you kidding me with that?” he asked.
You’re right,” she acknowledged. “I don’t know you, really. We spent all of about thirty minutes together nearly a decade ago. Still, I think the Kyle Rhodes who walked me home and gave me the shirt off his back would do the right thing no matter how pissed he was at my office. So if that guy is hanging around this penthouse anywhere, tell him to call me.
Kyle had to give her credit; it took skill—plus no heart and a serious abuse of the English language— to break up with someone in fewer than 140 characters.
It’s not the place that matters, It’s how good you are when you get there.” -Rylann
It may have taken nine years, and a whole lot of wrong turns along the way, but their story felt complete at last. Because, finally, she was his.
I love you, Rylann." He cupped her face, peering down into her eyes. "And now I finally have a good answer to the one question everyone always asks me--why I hacked into Twitter. I didn't know it at the time... but I did it to find you again." She leaned into him, curling her fingers around his shirt. "That may be the best justification I've ever heard for committing a crime." She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "And I love you, too, you know.
Because nine years ago, I walked up to the most beautiful girl in the bar, and tonight she's still the only person I want to talk to.
Thank God she wasn’t still hanging out in her underpants.
In the business world, what’s the female equivalent of going golfing with a client?” Laney gave this some thought. Payton fell silent, too, contemplating. After a few moments, neither of them could come up with anything. How depressing. Payton sighed, feigning resignation. “Well, that’s it. I guess I’ll just have to sleep with them.” Laney folded her hands primly on the table. “I think I’m uncomfortable with this conversation.
It should've been illegal for a man to walk around like that without some sort of permit.
More like a chocolate molten lava cake. A dessert so sinful, so luscious, so filled with inner heat it made a girl want to lick each and every crumb right off the plate. That was Jack Pallas.
Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?
He didn't care whose league Jordan was in. All that mattered was that she was his.
At least you're learning a thing or two about wine. Good to hear you're making such an effort to improve yourself." "Does the U.S. attorney know how much you like spending your Saturday nights eavesdropping on private conversations?" Nick asked. "The U.S. attorney knows exactly how I like spending my Saturday nights.
Well, Ma, see... there's this girl." Silence. He checked to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. "You still there, Ma?" A sniffle. "You can't be crying already," he said. "I haven't told you anything about her yet." "It doesn't matter, Nick," his mother said through her tears. "Those are the three words I've been waiting thirty-four years to hear.
I told you not to take off work for this." “And miss your big finale? No way.I’m all atwitter to see how things turn out.” “That’s cute, Jordo.” Then he frowned as Nick McCall was suddenly there, in their lives, and Kyle was therefore being a little…cautious before welcoming him into the family. “Be nice, Kyle,” Jordan warned. “What?” he asked innocently. “When have I ever not been nice to Tall, Dark, and You Can’t Be Serious About This Guy?” “I like him. Get used to it.
I see that you’ve had the non-pleasure of meeting my sister.Jordo, this is Rylann Pierce.” Jordan raised an eyebrow pointedly at Kyle. He glared. An entire dialogue seemed to pass between them
You know, if you're trying to mark your territory, you could've just peed on me before I came over here and saved us both a lot of time!
He liked the way her hand felt in his, liked the simple intimacy of the gesture and the way it said - without the need for words - that they were together.
She asked him the question she had been asking herself for the past few days. "Why are you being so nice to me now?" J.D. leaned forward in his chair. He gazed directly into her eyes, and Payton suddenly found herself wondering why it had taken him eight years to look at her that way. "Because you're letting me," he said softly.
You know, Taylor, I told his manager that your reputation in this firm is that you can go head-to-head with any man. And win.
Despite the fact that she was essentially comatose, she somehow made his whole house feel different just by being there. Before it had been just a house—a very impressive house no doubt, but a house nonetheless. But for some reason, with Taylor there it felt more like a home.
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