Ship Wrecked

My duty as an American forces me to buy Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups wherever I may find them.

One more.” Gently, he unwound his fingers from her hair. Then dropped to his knees. Oh, good. He’d read her mind. She laughed. “Peter, you knäppgök. You never need to ask if you can go down on me. The answer is always going to be yes. Always.” “I’m not—” Ducking his chin to his chest, he huffed out a laugh. “Only you, Maria. Only you would mistake a heartfelt declaration of love and proposal of marriage for an inquiry about licking your pussy. Shit.

Dieting? No fucking way. Taunting the Grim Reaper? No problem!

I thought . . . or maybe I hoped?” She hesitated. “Hoped is probably more accurate. Anyway, I kind of hoped you were, uh . . . past the point of wanting kids?” “Oh, thank fuck.” He exhaled in a rush, sagging with relief. “I don’t want kids either. I have zero desire to take on that responsibility, especially given how hectic and unpredictable our schedules can be.

But empathy requires imagination, and he didn’t have enough of either.

But I’m not you, Peter. I need people I love around me every day to be happy.

Ron and R.J. cast two fat actors for characters not originally specified as fat in the books,” Ivarsson explains. “That never happens, and the showrunners deserve an enormous amount of credit for their decision. It’s a real step forward for body diversity in Hollywood. I’m especially delighted because fat acceptance is a passion of mine, as followers of my social media accounts can attest.

He cared about work above all else. As many Americans supposedly did, probably because they didn’t have much of a safety net if they lost their jobs.

Here it came at last, inevitable as death, taxes, and the fridging of female characters in action films.