A Love Most Fatal (Morelli Family, #1)

by Kath Richards

I can handle any number of things on my own, but I didn’t realize how nice it is, sometimes, to have someone whose job is to handle things with you.

Watching her do mundane things always feels like I’m being let in on a secret, like when we sit on the couch after everyone’s gone to bed and she falls asleep with her feet on my lap or tucked under my leg.

I’m too tired to pretend I don’t like having someone to fuss after me and take care of me while I give my best attempt to take care of everything else.

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have faith in a man.

I suppose I’d rather be a bitch than a floor mat.