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Quote by Amy Andrews

“Poppy Devine did not deserve cancer. Poppy was sweet and industrious and careful and measured and always, always did the right thing. If anyone deserved cancer it was Julia. Julia was loud and opinionated and disagreeable. Rude, some might even say. She went out with bad men, took unnecessary risks, pushed people to their limits, swore like a sailor and flipped the bird more than any female in the history of the world. It should be her number coming up in the cancer lottery.”

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“Why this girl? Why had this girl crawled right under his skin and made an uncomfortable home there? Why did he want to make things good for her, to see her smile, to make her face and her voice make all those interesting shapes and noises? Why did he want to stay up late with her when he knew she should be sleeping, just to hear her talk about maths and politics and the state of the world? This was not Quentin. Quentin did not like skinny girls. He didn’t like serious girls. And he really hated bossy girls. Quentin loved curvy, fun, uncomplicated girls; girls who laughed at his jokes and took off their bras when they danced on tables. If they wore bras at all. Yet here he was, washing up and mopping and feeling like five kinds of an arsehole over hurting the feelings of some skinny, serious, bossy girl.”

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“He shook his head at her question. Did women really think men cared about that stuff? Did he care if she did this all the time? Definitely, definitely not. He could honestly say he did not give a flying fuck whether this girl dragged guys home every other day to have her way with them for seven hours. He was just glad as hell she’d decided to do it with him. Today. And hopefully maybe again. Sometime.”

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“She frowned, and the effect was so pretty he wondered if he was going mad. Why did he find this cranky, kooky woman so damned appealing? He knew for a fact he could go out tonight and drag home some hot, willing chick who would stroke his ego and never argue with him about anything. He closed his eyes and remembered just how good that felt. Willing women; god bless them.”

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“Sie ließen sich jetzt die Hände frei, ergriffen sie aber auf der Stelle wieder und beide sagten gleichzeitig: "Und wie geht es dir auch?" Aber statt sich zu antworten, fragten sie das gleiche aufs neue und die Antwort lag nur in den beredten Augen, da sie nach Art der Verliebten die Worte nicht mehr zu lenken wussten und, ohne sich weiter etwas zu sagen, endlich halb selig halb traurig auseinanderhuschten.”

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