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“I think I better head to bed. Who won?" I squinted at the board. It was blurry, the little pieces swimming around it like they were chasing one another. I hiccupped again. "Me?"

"Actually, you owe me two thousand dollars and a house on Tennessee Avenue." Katie laughed, starting to remove the Scottie dog, top hat, and thimble from the board. I yawned, my eyes flickering shut as I took spontaneous one-second naps between blinks. Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized I was being a mess, not at all the brilliant, responsible fiancé Chase wanted me to be. Screw him. I owed him nothing. As long as his family was having fun.

"I hope you like fixer-uppers and accept coupons, Katie, because I'm broke as all hell," I snorted out.

"That's all right. It's just a game." Katie folded the board and tucked it back into the box as she hummed to herself. She was so agreeable and docile. The opposite of her older brother. Almost like he'd hogged every drop of ferociousness in their DNA pool before he was born.

"Yeah, well, I'm flat-out broke in real life too." I snickered.

Time to go to bed, Miss Hot Mess Express.

I stood up on wobbly feet. My knees felt like jelly, and there was a strange pressure behind my eyes. Knowing I'd be coming face-to-face with Chase made me break out in hives. I'd tried to postpone our reunion as much as I could, hoping --praying, really--he'd fall asleep before I got back to the room.

"Not for long." Lori laughed.

I laughed too. Then paused. Then frowned. "Wait, how do you mean?"

"Well"--Lori offered me a one-shouldered shrug, picking nonexistent lint from her dress pants as Katie put the Monopoly box away--"you're going to marry Chase, honey. And Chase is ... well endowed."

Katie choked on her soda, while I used every ounce of my self-control in order to not break into giggles. "Oh, Lori, you have no idea,”
― L.J. Shen, The Devil Wears Black

“He. Is. Exquisite.
If there ever was a perfect male form, I'm certain it's him. It's clear he works out, given the cut of his body and the hard lines that drag across his light-tan skin. But it's more than that. It's the ruggedness that his body exudes. The gold-brown hair that runs along the center of his chest and down his stomach, the curly hair dotting his tree-trunk thighs and calves, the spicy smell of his cologne.”
― Sarah Echavarre Smith, The Boy With the Bookstore

“Julian turned deliberately to examine the de Moray girl. She was plumper than was fashionable. Her generously round hips overflowed the seat of her chair, and her pillowed breasts pushed against her stays as if they wanted freeing. She had full cheeks, pink against her white skin, and her hair was a glorious blond red like the dawn of a new day.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, No Ordinary Duchess