The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient, #1)

by Helen Hoang

For several stomach-twisting moments, she ran through her list of presocialization reminders: think before you talk (anything and everything can be an insult to someone; when in doubt, say nothing), be nice, sitting on your hands prevents fidgeting and feels good, make eye contact, smile (no teeth, that’s scary), don’t start thinking about work, don’t let yourself talk about work (no one wants to hear about it), please and thank you, apologize with feeling.

And last night. Shit, it must have been awful. The TV blasting, the piano, his sisters shouting, everything new . . . “She just wants you to like her.”

“You’re coming with me. Don’t argue. I’m going to feed you.”

“Stella,” he said with a groan. “You feel too good. Sweet Stella, my Stella.”

Leaning over for a closer look, she gave him a gratuitous view of her luscious ass. “You alphabetize them.”

How was he going to set his mind straight when things ended if he had memories of her sitting on his bed, waiting for him, smiling in the way that was just for him?

I like you better than calculus, and math is the only thing that unites the universe.

And since when had his mom started calling Stella hers?

“It means if you want to buy me a car, I want to drive it.” His lips curved with a suggestive grin, and his eyes danced. “If you want to buy me boxers, I want to wear them.” Her chest filled with lightness, and she grabbed his hand so she wouldn’t accidentally float away. “It means you love me.”