She drove like fucking Danica Patrick. Jesus. He'd actually been nervous, speeding over winding mountain roads, weaving around slower traffic--which was everyone. He'd been damn glad to see the hotel.

Her head felt like elephants were doing the merengue on her cerebellum.

Isaac had spent so much of the past year with his head down, focused on the filth around him, that he’d forgotten the beauty of his world.

Save the condemnation for later.

Wrong, asshole. Your body makes you male. Your brain and your heart—big and strong as ever—they make you a man.

They were both riding too fast for reason but just fast enough for sanity.

It’s different when people who’ve been living under somebody’s boot hate the foot the boot’s on. An oppressed people can’t be racist. They can be bigots, but not racist. You have to have power to be a racist...