I must be dreaming. Bring that sweet ass over here and I'll show you what God made women and well-hung Scotsmen for.

If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?

His coworker was velvety-skinned, a sexy boy-on-the-cusp-of man.

We've a bit of a problem, Kat. Have you someone to watch the wee lass?"His second use of the word "lass" finally penetrated a brain of concrete. Kat blinked, as slow comprehension dawned. "Christian?" she exploded softly. "Is that YOU?"His lips drew back in a silent snarl. Then "Och, Christ, tell you didn't think I was Cruce! Do I look that bad?"She nodded vehemently, "Yes.""Bloody hell," he growled.

You both talk too much,” the kid says. “Shut up. Don’t make me tell you again.”We shut up, which I find hysterically funny.

A fecking flamethrower! Why didn't I think of that? Best I came up with was a measly hair dryer.