More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
He’s lucky he’s so adorable, or I might . . . do nothing. Never mind. When it comes to Mr. Bingley, we both know who’s in charge.
Cannae help ye, lass?
Mr. Bingley sits at the end of the bed, giving me a look like I’ve offended his great ancestors. “I know, I’m a disobedient slave. Let’s go get breakfast.”
Thank you, God, for allowing me to sound like a human being and not the screaming playground of kindergarten children that I am inside.
Why am I like this? I silently beg the universe. Why can’t I be a normal person? When are you going to drop a piano on my head and put me out of my misery?
“That’s the second time I’ve left you speechless, lass. Imagine what would happen if I dropped the towel. I’d probably have to call you an ambulance.”
Ticked off that I’m now a two-time unwilling participant in the Mountain’s sexcapades, I holler across the hall, “She totally faked it!”
I suddenly understand how otherwise rational people can lose their minds and commit murder in a fit of rage.
I suspect that’s a topic for a trained therapist.
Jesus? Satan? Aliens from outer space? Anybody who feels like claiming the life of a sad-sack copyeditor can step right up. Bonus points if you hurry.
I’m so mortified, I’d like to kill myself. Instead, I turn around and unlock my front door.
“What?” says Cam to me, not looking up from the cat. “You thought I was all beauty and no brains, darlin’?” I produce an unladylike snort. “More like all ego and no manners.”
“You’re depriving some poor village of its idiot. Can I have my cat back now?”
“I’m going to kill him,” I tell the empty kitchen. “If Mr. Bingley is even a little miffed when he comes home, Cameron McGregor is going to die.”
a thought crossed my mind.” “Must’ve been a long and lonely journey,” I mutter.
Your pie is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Sweet. Succulent. Melting on my tongue.
“I don’t ever wanna hear you put yourself down again, Joellen. Don’t do it out loud, and don’t do it in your head, either. Show yourself some damn respect, woman, or no one else will.”
An expression, if I’m not mistaken, like he wants to pick up the bouquet and smash it against the wall.
“You’re the reason God created the middle finger.”
He takes a moment to answer, then says with a bland expression, “I like your cat.”
“Oh. My. God.” “You can just call me Cam, darlin’. Though it’s accurate, God seems a wee bit formal.”
“You were kicked out of Scotland because you’re so annoying, right? Everyone got together and agreed to throw you out for the greater good of the country?”
Cam deadpans, “Thank you, Dr. Freud, for that excellent diagnosis.” “You’re welcome.”
With the weight of the four thousand unborn grandchildren she so desperately wants, my mother repeats, “He?”
“Hullo, Mrs. Bixby. This is Cameron McGregor. Your daughter and I are in love.”
“Because I hate organized sports and everyone who plays organized sports and would rather burn my eyes out with acid than be forced to watch or read anything to do with organized sports.”
“I have to go now. My mental breakdown is calling.”
don’t do that.” “Do what? Feel insulted when someone insults me?”
“Do you hold yourself tightly in bed at night while whispering sweet nothings into your own ear?”
“Portia,” I reply, just so she knows she’s not the only one who can pronounce a name.
“Y’know, lass, for a bright girl, you’re bloody dense.”
“Be quiet, White Fang. You’ll frighten the neighbors.”
Boy, he’s being a really good friend.
Yours until the sun flames out and all life on earth is extinguished,
As soon as it’s out, I want to commit seppuku with the metal letter opener in the pen cup next to the computer. I close my eyes and bang my head softly against my desk.
“Sure I do. I’m wagin’ war.”
“She was probably just dazed into acting like a person and not a witch because her brain was taking a nice warm dopamine bath brought on by standing three feet away from you.”
A true friend is someone who says “I’m here for you” and proves it.
“And another thing. Learn to stop saying ‘Sorry,’ and say ‘Don’t interrupt me.’ Learn to say ‘No’ and ‘None of your business.’ Learn to be unapologetic for who you are and what you like and the opinions you hold. I know you think that if other people considered you beautiful, all your problems would be solved, but you’d just have different problems. And they’d all still revolve around the fact that deep down, you don’t think you’re good enough. That’s a lie you learned, and you can unlearn it, but it has to start with you. You have to decide to accept yourself. It’s cliché, but you really do
...more
He rests his temple against mine and sighs again, but this time it sounds impossibly sad. “Aye, but you know I say it with love, lass. Always with love.”
“I must be getting my period,” I mutter, angrily wiping the tears from my eyes. “This is ridiculous.”
I wish I was as fat now as I thought I was back then. It makes me sad to think of how long and how hard I tried to be something I wasn’t.
“Aye. It’s a compliment. But if you knew what I was really thinkin’, lass, you’d run back into that bedroom and bolt the door behind you.”
I want to slay.” “Oh, you’ll slay, lass. No doubt about that.
“I knew it wasn’t going to last when we went on vacation to Bermuda over Thanksgiving and he clapped when the plane landed. No self-respecting woman can marry a man like that.”
“You’re not a crutch to me, Joellen. You’re a gift. If you don’t want to come to Scotland because you just don’t want to be with me, have the balls to say it, but don’t feed me any more excuses. And stop applyin’ your worst-case-scenario thinkin’ to this thing between us—keep that negative bullshit in check.”
“You’re just too weird and wonderful to stay mad at for long.”
He looks astonished, offended, and totally angry. “You fucking ghosted me.”
“Here. In case you want to make any more mistakes before I leave.”
So this is love. Man, it’s even worse than Christmas.
